Scanning the other faces, surprise struck me when I spotted the soldier, Ashe Carrick. He stood over a work table with a map, speaking with a frail, old man. I moved closer to listen to them.
"Listen, this way will work better. The waterfall will be covered up with snow, unlike in the summer, so we can take the river all the way up the valley."
The other adults grumbled, and a few nodded.
A bearded man shook his head, "No way, that is way too dangerous. I think we should follow the summer route…"
"No. The summer route is too long and too cold," Dr. Weaver piped in. "Besides, that path goes directly through avalanche zones. I think Carrick is right. The river should be safer."
When the old man raised a hand, the group quieted and waited for him to speak. But as he spoke, I realized that he was actually a she.
"The river is frozen. We will take the route Ashe Carrick laid out." When her pale eyes landed on me, she smiled warmly. "Nice to finally meet you in person Miss Miller. I'm Headmistress Angeven. You seem to be causing quite the fuss for our little school."
Everyone turned toward me, and I looked at them all in the eye without speaking.
The headmistress closed the space between us and reached over to cup my cheek with her gnarled hand. "You look so much like Celine. She has been sorely missed."
My gaze lifted to her eyes, and I wondered what memories she had of this mysterious woman I'd never known. Celine. A name so familiar but foreign all at once.
My mother had been like a ghost, in my mind, but never a reality. Besides, I'd always had my dad, and he'd been enough.
Although standing here with all these people who'd known the woman who'd given birth to me, I began to have more questions about her. My dad rarely spoke about Celine, and when he did, it was brief and hesitant.
"We'll talk later," the headmistress told me quietly. Then with a quick movement, she tapped the paper bag I held. "You need to eat before we go."
I grabbed her arm. "We don't need to do the ritual."
My comment earned a hearty chuckle from a few people who were near enough to hear it. As if not doing the ritual was ridiculous.
After everyone loaded onto the snowmobiles, two per machine, we were off. The morning air was clean and crisp, and so cold that each breath was like breathing fire.
I sat behind Dr. Weaver, my eyes on the scenery. I couldn’t help but contemplate my mother. My dad didn’t like speaking about her. When he did, a strange expression would come over his features. I’d always thought that the subject had been too painful for him to talk about, so I never asked.
All I knew was that she died from cancer—that’s it. Why hadn’t I asked these questions of my father? What if he died in the hospital and took everything he knew about her to the grave?
My lack of knowledge about my mother haunted me on that ride. She’d never seemed like a real person to me, just some DNA incubator who popped me out and then disappeared. Celine had never been anything but a face in a photograph, but now it seemed she was all around me.
My gaze flicked across the trees and snow, but my mind was on my mother.
Tendrils of my hair escaped and whipped at my cheeks, stinging with cold. After a while, we rode into a clearing and away from the trees. This allowed the sun to warm us with its rays.
When the snowmobiles ahead slowed, Dr. Weaver followed suit several meters behind them.
“Why are they stopping?” I asked.
“We’ve been on the river. It’s frozen here, but there are hot springs ahead, so we need to find a path through the trees instead.” She pointed near us and shouted to the headmistress, “Angeven! There’s a break in the trees just there. Do you want me to check it out?”
After a nod from the boss, she backed up before revving the engine to gain some speed.
Flying up a snow-covered bank, we slowed to navigate through the evergreens before pulling to the side to wait for the others.
As Headmistress Angeven passed, she slowed and shouted above the engine noise, “Good call!”
The next part of the journey nearly turned me to a block of ice. We drove slowly through the thick shadows of pines and skeleton-like leafless trees. Bits of ice and snow rained down on us from the above only to melt and leave us wet and even colder.
But the lower speed meant less noise from the engine, and I nudged Dr. Weaver. “Can you tell me about the ritual? What should I expect? I mean, I didn’t even know about this place or the dragon people a day ago.”
“You mean Balaur Academy and the Dragonborn?”
I nodded but then answered, “Yeah.”
“Hmm. I wondered. You must be completely confused,” she said, a tinge of bitterness to her tone.
“I’m adaptable,” I told her.
“Well,” she paused. “Dragonborn can see spirit dragons that the rest of the world cannot see. And some particular Dragonborn are gifted with their own dragon or wyvern.”
My chest shook with mirth at the ridiculousness of her words before realizing that she wasn’t joking. “What? No. You’re serious? Dragons don’t exist.”
The older woman shook her head, her long gray braid shifting down her back like a snake. “Well, they aren’t common… usually, they don’t cross the spirit boundary, but they can and affect our physical plane when needed.”
I frowned and shook my head, looking up at the trees. Oh, my God! What kind of crap was I walking into?
But Dr. Weaver, Mrs. Moorhead, Ashe Carrick, the Headmistress, and those two others? They were all very serious and seemingly rational people.
I rubbed the spot between my eyes, trying to figure out what could be going on here. Were they using drugs like LSD or Ayahuasca to have visions or see hallucinations?
My voice dripped with cynicism, but I couldn’t help it. “Okay, so Dragonborn people get their own dragon?”
Her chest rumbled with laughter. “I can understand your skepticism, but if you are Dragonborn, then after this ritual, you’ll see the dragons. Now, I don’t want you to get your hopes up for having your own dragon. You’re only a half breed, so the chances of even the sight are slim.”
I narrowed my eyes at the words half breed. “You know eugenics went out with the Nazis. This half breed stuff is all just discrimination.”
“No, there is Dragonborn blood passed down to each generation. Even some full-blooded Dragonborn don’t have the sight.” She turned to catch a glimpse of my face.
“So, why the ritual? Can’t you tell if someone has the sight without it?” I asked.
“The ritual is the only way to open one up to the other realm. It’s a way to break into the potential of a Dragonborn. Without it, there is no Dragonborn sight and no dragon.”
I groaned. “So, I’m going through all of this for nothing, really?”
She reached out and patted my leg. “Not for nothing! For Celine. If she’d been alive, you would’ve gone to the academy years ago. You would’ve done the ritual and known then.” She sighed, and her voice took on a sad tone. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Most likely, you are too old and don’t have the blood. The older one becomes, the more difficult and unlikely it is to tap into the dragon world.”
I scoffed, “If no one actually believes I’m a Dragonborn, why do the ritual? This seems like a lot of hassle for nothing.”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let me stew in my own thoughts and listen to the wind.
I spotted a rabbit darting between trees, its pristine white pelt blending into the snowy ground.
“It doesn’t matter what we think. This is about you… and Celine. So, in the end, it’s up to you.”
I let out a miserable laugh, “Seriously? Up to me?” My mind mulled this thought over. It would be easy to say no and walk away, but thoughts of my mom played at the edges of my memory. This was a chance to peer into her life, an opportunity that I’d never get again. Finally, I said, “Okay. I guess I’m in. I’ll do it for my mother. She must’ve bee
n pretty special if everyone is so willing to go to all this trouble, and make all kinds of exceptions.”
Again, more silence.
For several minutes she didn’t answer, and I thought that maybe she hadn’t heard me. But it didn’t matter; I doubted she would turn this entire caravan around at my word.
Dr. Weaver slowed the snowmobile to quiet the engine before turning to me and asking, “Do you know who your grandfather is?”
“Uh… no. I’ve never met him. Do you know him?” I asked.
It was her turn to laugh sardonically. “Your grandfather, Arthur Lambert, is the Dragonborn PL—you really don’t know what that means, do you?”
My brows rose into my hairline. How could I know so little about my mother and her family? Was dad protecting me or keeping me from them?
When I didn’t answer, she continued, breaking into my train of thought, “Arthur Lambert is the Prime Leader—the chosen ruler of the Dragonborn. So, when the PL says, ‘Give my granddaughter the ritual and enroll her into Balaur Academy,’ we do it. This day has been a long time coming. Do you know how long they’ve been trying to find you?”
A strange shiver ran through me, not from the cold but from something else.
I would’ve trusted my dad before, but now, knowing that he’d kept so many secrets made me question him.
I knew nothing about my mother—nothing about her family. He’d led me to believe that I had no one else. That it was just him and me—all the while, skillfully avoiding questions about my mother, Celine.
Chewing my bottom lip, anger began to build inside me.
So, what if they were a cult or whatever—these people were part of my life and always would be.
I had no idea that my mom’s family had wanted me or even cared for me.
My mind raced back to the day after the accident when they finally let me see my father. I held his hand in mine. His injuries were so bad that they’d placed him in a medically induced coma.
Then a pretty, brunette, older woman strode into the hospital room, and I thought she was lost. Elise just stood there staring at me, a small smile on her lips. But before I could speak, she introduced herself as my grandmother. I was confused and relieved all at the same time, but mostly I was happy to not be alone.
Wiping away the tears from my frozen cheeks, I opened up the paper bag and took a large bite of the now cold sausage roll.
What would my life have been like if Celine hadn’t died? I’d probably have already been going to this school for almost five years now—FIVE YEARS.
What would my life have been like if I’d had more than just dad? Fuller? Happier?
For the first time in my life, I missed her—I missed the mother I’d never known.
4
After several breaks for lunch, snacks, and necessities, we parked the snow machines inside a small open-sided barn with a slanted roof. From the smell, I guessed that horses were probably kept there in the summer.
“We’re here?” I asked Calla as she began to unpack her snowmobile.
“No, we’ve got a bit of a hike,” she told me, handing me a pair of snowshoes.
I glanced up at the sky, confused as to what we were going to do.
“But it’s getting dark.”
She shrugged. “We’re lucky we made it this far.”
Some round packaged biscuits in a paper sleeve were passed around the group. I took several, pocketing all but two.
As I nibbled the cookie, I spotted Private Pantydropper up ahead. He leaned against a tree, talking to a girl in a white snowsuit. She had large pretty eyes and a thick brown braid that hung out of her stylish jacket. Unlike me, she wore winter clothing from this decade.
Covertly, I watched them as they laughed and smiled at each other. When he leaned forward and kissed her, my stomach turned sour. This must be ❤️Lacy❤️.
Puke.
They were definitely a couple, and their ease with each other spoke to a long shared history.
I tried to shake off the resentment I felt toward her but struggled. I didn’t have any kind of claim on this guy… or any hope of a claim on him. Yet, something deep inside me felt like I did.
I scoffed at myself and tried to force my mind elsewhere.
Besides, If he was dating a teacher, he had to be at least twenty-five.
Sighing, I turned my back on the pair and began following Dr. Weaver up a steep trail alongside the snow-covered river.
Sulfur filled my nostrils, and I dallied, glancing over the edge into the shallow ravine. Steam rose like smoke off the thick black ribbon of water.
With my curiosity satisfied, I made my way back to the trail.
As I continued, the Headmistress waited for me behind the others.
“Dr. Weaver said that you know nothing about the Dragonborn,” she said, gauging my expression.
“Oh, yeah. It’s okay. Dr. Weaver told me why everyone is going to all this trouble. It’s because of my grandfather… he’s some kind of leader. It’s fine. I’d rather be out here than in a classroom. Besides, I’ve seen a few rituals before. My dad took ayahuasca with a shaman in Peru, so I know not to believe everything I think I see.”
I narrowed my eyes, considering a future in Anthropology when the old woman interrupted my thoughts.
“Yes, well, we’ll see,” she chuckled.
After walking in the dark illuminated with only the pale moonlight, a million questions began to flood my mind. But by the time I’d worked up the courage to ask them, we’d come to an immense black abyss that blocked out the star-studded sky.
A man—the bearded teacher—lit an electric lamp that illuminated a circle of light.
I blinked from the brightness. We were in a cave with a dark creek bubbling up from its depths and spilling out the mouth into a tumble of partially snow-covered boulders.
The party members had begun unpacking large backpacks, but I just stood there, tired and wary of what was to come.
Ashe and the bearded teacher began erecting two large tents.
Feeling unhelpful, I made my way over to the group with Dr. Weaver, Mrs. Moorhead, Headmistress Angeven, and my soldier’s girlfriend.
I nodded in her direction and held my hand out, “I’m Sydney.”
She smiled and gripped my fingers instead of my palm. Her eyes crinkled a bit at the edges as she laughed. “I know who you are. You’ve made a pretty big splash coming in several years late and in the middle of the year. I’m Lacy, or as my students call me, Miss Bryant. I teach middle school, and AP English, so if you’re a grammar nerd, you’ll be in my class!”
I just stared at her for a moment.
Who had this much energy after the day we’d had?
However, I guess no response was needed because she said, “Oh, don’t get comfortable here. We’re going farther inside. Just the guys are staying here.”
“Farther inside the cave?”
The Headmistress’s voice echoed in the space, cutting through our conversation as she addressed me, “This is a sacred place. Please refrain from speaking. If you have questions, please wait until later. Now, come along.”
Angeven held her lamp out and began leading the way down a smaller passage near the cave’s back. I pulled my phone out to light my steps so I wouldn’t trip. The cave floor had been worn smooth by years… or maybe even decades of foot traffic.
I thought we’d follow the water, but instead, our path wound up and around boulders and part of the roof that had collapsed. Then we met up with the cave river again. Steam hugged the surface of the water like a low cloud. The scent of sulfur grew more potent, and I could feel the temperature rising the farther in we walked. I knew these were both signs that there must be more hot springs deeper down.
Sleep pulled at me, and I yawned. Even though I’d spent the day sitting down, my body longed for a warm cozy bed. Instead, I had only a damp, cold cavern that stunk and no bed in sight.
The women finally stopped and my hopes of sleep were dashed wh
en I realized they were stripping off their clothes in the dim lantern light.
Mrs. Moorhead whispered to me, “We’re going to cleanse ourselves before we begin.”
My eyes went to the shallow stream at the edge of the tunnel. There wasn’t as much steam coming off it, and I nearly groaned when I spotted Lacy wading in naked.
My relative gripped my arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture but was more bruising than helpful. “It’s shallow and mostly warm. The cold water is frozen above us as snow.” She nodded, trying to reassure me. “It’ll be okay, we’re all doing it with you.”
I began to peel my clothing off until I stood there in just my stretchy bralette and undies.
From the faint reflection off wet skin, I could tell that all three except Calla had gone naked into the shadowy river.
“Shit,” I whispered, not exactly wanting to get into the inky-black stream inside a cold cave. Reluctantly, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and waded in.
A shape neared me, and I held my hand out, touching Lacy’s wet arm. The only illumination came from a small LED lamp the Headmistress had carried on our trek. It left almost everything in shadow.
“Here,” Lacy said, handing me a bundle of leaves. “Squat down. I’m going to say the cleansing blessing over you and wash you with these herbs.”
I squatted into the shallow stream and flinched as the cold liquid touched my warm areas.
The four women surrounded me and dipped bundles of leaves into the water before shaking them at me, splattering me with cold drops.
They began to chant in some ancient language, too quick for me to follow.
The foreign words were like a prayer, and while they repeated the same phrase, Lacy brushed my hair, face, and skin with her herb bundle.
“Sik at du kan bli sprukket åpen for drakens vilje,” she finally said alone.
When it ended, I blinked in the darkened room and waited. I’d been soaked to the skin and still squatted uncomfortably, shaking with cold.
“Was that Norwegian?” I asked, my teeth chattering. “That sounded like Norwegian.”
Cracked Open: The Dragon Born Academy Page 3
