Obsidian (The Dragon Kings)

by Kimberly Loth

  She peeled away her sock in search of two tiny dots. Instead, a swirl of black covered her ankle. She gasped.

  The intricate inch-wide tattoo looped and swished, encircling her entire ankle. The pattern was deliberate, a marking of some kind. Where on earth had that come from? She thought for a minute of what would suddenly cause a tattoo to appear on her ankle. Unless it hadn’t suddenly appeared. Had she done something dumb the night before? She thought about the evening and couldn’t find any gaps.

  Could it have been the dragon? She never heard a dragon marking a person before. Then again, as far as she knew, no one ever got close enough to a dragon to touch one. Did he mark her so he could find her, or was it something that just happened?

  She looked up again and watched the black speck fly over Eagles Peak. Then she quickly slammed the hatch shut and got in her jeep. Rappelling would fall flat compared to touching a dragon. She headed his direction, determined to find him again.

  Aspen drove for hours, not finding even a hint he had been around. Tourists shivered when she asked them if they saw the black dragon. One young mother gave her a ten-minute lecture on politeness when her kid burst into tears and screamed about wanting to go home. The cloud-free sky contained not one speck of black. Though several gold and silver dots glittered high in the sky.

  Around midnight, Aspen accepted the darkness wouldn’t make it any easier to spot him, and so she went home. Everyone in the house was asleep, which was odd because normally Rowan, her twin brother, stayed up late. She snuck into her room and closed the door with a soft click. The floor was difficult to navigate in the dark with clothes and climbing gear strung everywhere.

  She tripped and cursed silently, not wanting to wake anyone and draw attention to her late entry. After successfully making it to her bed, she turned on the light on her nightstand and peeled away her socks. In the dim light the tattoo looked more mysterious and ethereal. It was bigger than she originally thought, more like two inches wide, with an occasional loop escaping the careful pattern.

  Aspen’s parents would be livid. They were amazingly cool about a lot of things. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent a weekend at home. But unlike some of her friends with similarly cool parents, she did not spend the time passed out from alcohol. She spent her time in the backcountry camping, or crashed on the bunks at the airport so she could get an early start skydiving.

  But her parents did have a few rules to keep this freedom.

  Rule number six: no tattoos or body piercings. And Mom would laugh if she said she was marked by a dragon. She’d think Aspen broke rule number two: no drugs. Which of course, she hadn’t. Well, except once, but that was a huge mistake that tied in directly with rule number one. Funny, how sex and drugs often went together. And no, her parents didn’t say no sex. They said, “Take your birth control pills.” She still took her pills, but she didn’t see the point now. Sex was in the past, along with the drugs.

  When combined, they led to the worst two days of her life. Which involved Marc and her frequent nightmares.

  She kept her face free of piercings and her body inkless. She stayed away from drugs and took her pills. And she checked in with her folks every twenty-four hours or so. Less in the summer.

  The dragon marking would have to remain a secret. No flip-flops in Hawaii. She’d have to stick to scuba diving and volcano climbing. After a while, she found a clean pair of socks and drifted into dreamland filled with gigantic black dragons and sea-blue eyes.

  She didn’t set her alarm, Hawaii forgotten.

  Becoming the dragon king had always been a possibility; Obsidian never thought it would become reality. Five of them were potential heirs: Kingston the pious, Raja the realist, Marcellus the arrogant, Prometheus the leader, and Obsidian the slacker. They spent years studying both their own history and human history, because royalty must walk the line between both worlds. The king always referred to the five of them as brothers even though they all came from different parents. He hoped it would instill a sense of family between them instead of competition because it was up to the gods who became king—nothing they did could influence who was chosen.

  Each one of them took a turn completing their human experience. Kingston and Raja were always on Obsidian’s case, constantly asking when he would be ready. He never saw the point because they all knew Prometheus would be the next king. Why bother? Obsidian played along with all the rules. Except that one. He hated his human form, taking it only when they were forced to read. Dragons could do a lot of things, but reading was difficult when the books were so small. Why would he subject himself to ten years of that wretched state? Humans were small and vulnerable. He couldn’t bear the thought of being like that for so long. Raja argued that it was his duty.

  Ice formed on his wings, forcing him to lower his altitude. Prometheus would hate him. He spent the last three months training by the king’s side, while His Majesty transitioned from this world to the next. Everyone expected Prometheus to take the throne. Especially Obsidian. Prometheus was his best friend and the most suited for the job.

  Obsidian thought back to the girl on the mountainside. Her pure excitement still flowed through his veins, even remembering all that had taken him there. It made this all bearable—the kingship, his ten-year hiatus from the dragon world, Skye, everything. He had hope. Hope that being human would not be horrible, that Prometheus would forgive him, and Skye would be happy. Strange though, as he flew home, his focus was not on Skye, but on the girl in the field.

  Raja met Obsidian at the entrance to the king’s cave.

  Where are the others? Obsidian asked.

  Marcellus and Kingston are with the body, waiting for you. Prometheus took off right after the rest of us arrived. He said to go ahead and perform the requiem without him.

  Do you know where he was heading?

  No. Come, we must perform the ritual, and then you must meet with the council.

  The king was stretched out on the floor, his black body faded back to gold. He looked peaceful. Obsidian took his position at the deceased king’s head. Marcellus sat at the rear, and Raja and Kingston each took a side. Obsidian would go last. Marcellus began.

  He opened his jaw wide and let out a jet of golden flame. It engulfed the tail, and the body of the king began to disappear. Raja and Kingston joined Marcellus when he reached the flank. The gold light was blinding. Soon all that was left was the king’s head. All three cut off their flames and waited. Obsidian looked at the face of his king one last time. A jet of black flames escaped him, and the king was gone. They each let out another blast of flame, and a gold gem appeared where the ashes had been. It would sit in the king’s hall with the rest of the dead kings.

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  Obsidian, it’s time to see the council, Raja said.

  Obsidian didn’t answer him but flew down the hall. The walls were covered with ruby gemstones. Torches with multi-colored flames lit the path. A sudden realization hit Obsidian—this was his hall now. His cave. He planned to change the gemstones to sapphires. The ruby stones looked too much like blood.

  The council met in a deep pit. It was large enough to hold a hundred dragons. In Obsidian’s lifetime, there had never been a need to hold such a meeting. Now only seven dragons inhabited the space. It was wide and well lit.

  Obsidian flew down to meet with them. Their eyes followed him. When he landed, they all bowed. The bow was unnecessary. They all knew he had no power at that point. They held the power and could have him killed if it was their wish.

  A menacing voice entered his head. Foolish dragon. You knew this was a possibility, yet you made no effort to be ready. Now you put us all at risk while you make your preparations.

  Anasazi, the large orange canyon dragon, sneered at him.

  Obsidian’s sister answered before Obsidian had a chance. Be nice. I’m sure he’s still in shock. Obsidian, the time has come for you to complete your human experience. When it is over, you will
take the throne as a proper king. We all know that you becoming king wasn’t the ideal situation. But the Gods have chosen you. I see no reason to prolong this. Are you ready?

  Obsidian sat tall and looked at each member of the council. From the tiny underground dragon to the monstrous white dragon.

  I’m ready.

  Obsidian squeezed his eyes, forcing them to stay closed. But he still couldn’t sleep. He kicked off the blanket and rolled over, the bed sinking. Air, he needed air, and a nice rock floor. The quest for sleep was pointless. The whole house was squishy, the floor, the bed, the chairs. The only rock he could find was the kitchen counter.

  Covered in dying vines, the battered brick manor, home to many dragons during their human experiences, had been empty for years. Obsidian’s house was bigger than most caves he’d lived in. Ironic since he was smaller than he had ever been. In the last few weeks, a crew updated the interior with all the modern conveniences but left the outside untouched. The inside of the house blinked, flashed, buzzed, and emitted noises like dying birds. It smelled horrible, unnatural. Obsidian missed the quiet of the forests, the fragrance of the wildflowers, and the companionship of Skye. Her absence left him empty.

  A door slammed somewhere in the house. It didn’t worry him. He assumed it was still some of the crew updating the house, or his mentor. He abandoned the many flashing boxes and went to the bookshelf, hoping to find something that could keep him occupied until his mentor showed up. He crouched down to look at the books on the bottom shelf.

  His fists clenched unconsciously, and anger flared in his chest. The feeling was not his own. He turned. Prometheus stood next to the door, his hands gripping the frame.

  Look, Obsidian said, standing up. I understand you are angry.

  “Angry? You think I’m angry? You stole my future.” Prometheus stalked toward Obsidian, his fist raised. The hand came toward Obsidian’s face with blinding speed. He registered pain as it connected with his jaw. Then he saw blackness.

  “Obsidian…Obsidian? You okay?” Prometheus’s face swam into view, his blonde dreadlocks tickling Obsidian’s nose.

  “Um yeah, I think so. What was that for?”

  Prometheus held out his hand. Obsidian grabbed it, and Prometheus pulled him up.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” he said and punched Obsidian again. His nose exploded with blood.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” Obsidian held his nose with both hands, the metallic taste draining down the back of his throat.

  Prometheus stood there, his chest rising and falling. His hands were up near his face, waiting.

  “Fight back.” Prometheus punched Obsidian in the stomach, causing him to double over. “Hit me back.”

  Prometheus’s rapid breath reverberated in Obsidian’s ears. He stood straight, still gripping his nose, the blood trailing through his fingers. His jaw ached, his nose throbbed, and his stomach felt like he’d eaten a live bear, but with each punch he could feel Prometheus’s anger subside a little.

  “Come on.” Prometheus motioned with his hands. “Fight me.”

  “No,” Obsidian said, pushing past him to get to the bathroom.

  What was Prometheus doing here? The only dragon Obsidian was supposed to have contact with was his mentor. Obsidian was under the impression that his mentor would be his sister or one of his parents. He washed the blood off his face and tried not to look at his swollen features in the mirror. Prometheus hated him, and he could do nothing about it.

  When Obsidian walked back into his room, Prometheus sat at the desk pushing buttons on several different boxes, which whirred and blinked and flashed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but, dude, next time someone hits you like that, you need to hit them back, ‘kay?”

  “Uh, sure,” Obsidian said, confused by some of his words. Prometheus didn’t look up, but his fingers were flying across the board in front of the screen.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m your mentor. Ten more years in this glorious body.” Prometheus was not happy about anything right now. Obsidian could sense his sarcasm.

  “Why did you hit me anyway?” Obsidian asked.

  “I’m pissed as hell that you’re king. It’s not your fault, but I feel a little better now. Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “My face feels like it exploded.”

  Prometheus surveyed Obsidian for a minute. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’ll heal quickly. You’re a dragon.”

  “Not right now. Remind me again how long I have to do this.”

  “Ten years give or take. Not that long really. Seriously, calm down.”

  “I’m good at being a dragon. I understand how my world works. This,” Obsidian said, gesturing around his room. “This is all new. I don’t understand any of it, and I have no idea how to interact with them. On top of all that, I’m king, which is something I never wanted.”

  “Dude, chill. You’re gonna be fine. Yeah, high school sucks, but you’ve only got to go through a year of it. College is much better. Except the girls don’t understand why we won’t mate with them.” He smiled. “But bro, that is a lesson for another night.” He whirled around in his chair. “I’ll teach you everything I know. Oh, and hey, don’t call me Prometheus either. Humans like simple names. I’m Theo, and you’re Sid.”

  Obsidian struggled to make sense of his words. Chill, girls, mating, dude, bro, Sid. He knew Prometheus finished the human experience in Laguna Beach about six months ago, but he didn’t understand how he could be so different.

  Your Human Years was a book that listed all of the things that must be done during the ten years a dragon spent as a human. From the start of the human race, dragons had kept this book. The list ranged from the mundane—learn how to boil water, to the outrageous—discover the stench of the sewer. From simple—have a conversation on a telephone, to complex—get a college degree. Every dragon who went through the human experience added to the list. Some only listed one or two new things, and others added pages. This list was thousands of entries long.

  All royal dragons had to go through the human experience since they were the liaisons between the dragons and the humans. They had to know how to communicate with them and relate to their ways of thinking. Sid had put off his own experience, but knew it was eventually inevitable. He didn’t expect to be king though. That changed how his experience would go. He’d be watched like a hawk.

  Sid closed his eyes and put his finger on a random spot in the book. “Get a Job.”

  Gardiner, Montana, a small town designed for tourists, sat just outside the north gate of Yellowstone. Sid’s driver took him into town. Once they hit Main Street, Sid asked him to stop so he could walk.

  Several signs hung in quirky shops advertising “closing for the season, everything 50% off.”

  “Wait here. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  The driver nodded.

  Sid wandered around for a while, observing the people. He often found conflicting feelings existing within the same human. A couple across the street argued. She had tears rolling down her face, and he clenched his fists. The girl put her hands on his chest and pushed. Sid could feel anger, hatred, and rage coming from them. Yet underlying that was a form a love. He walked away shaking his head.

  Sid looked for the signs that Theo told him about: “Help Wanted” and “Now Hiring.” After a quarter of a mile, the strip of shops ended, and enormous old houses began. Most had signs outside advertising their business. Lawyers, dentists, accountants, etc.

  He spotted one on an enormous house with two blue turrets that framed a whitewashed porch. The sign hanging over the porch read “The Purple Dragon.” Seemed like a good enough omen. The screen door slammed behind him as he walked inside. An intense bitter smell permeated the space. Tables and couches were strung around the room, and two cats slept on the window seat.

  Sid stepped care
fully around the tables to avoid knocking off the chairs that were stacked on top of them. Someone said, “We’re closed.”

  The voice came from behind the bar. A young woman stood in the shadows. Her purple hair hung past her shoulders. She had a ring in one of her eyebrows and another in her painted black lip.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m actually here about the job,” Sid said.

  She came to the front of the bar and sat on the counter. She wore a black T-shirt with the letters “AC/DC” on it and short shorts with ripped tights.

  “You new around here? I thought I knew all the kids in town.”

  “Yes, my family and I moved here about a week ago.”

  “Where do you live?” she asked, popping her gum.

  “Down on Shelby Street.” The lone house on Shelby spooked most of the local residents, or at least that’s what Theo said.

  She snorted. “Yeah right, in the haunted house. Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

  “I don’t know about haunted, but my family owns the home, and we moved back in.”

  “Explain to me why someone whose ‘family’ owns King’s Castle needs money.”

  “My parents feel I need to learn how to work a real job.”

  “Huh,” she paused, twirling her hair. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll need to find a ‘learning experience’ somewhere else.” She jumped off the counter and went back to the sink.

  “That doesn’t explain why.” Sid followed her, hoping to understand her immediate rejection of his possible abilities. He didn’t feel anger coming from her. On the contrary, she was attracted to him.

  She turned to face him, her shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor. Sid stood only a few inches from her. She inhaled and squeezed her eyes shut. He backed away, realizing he may have overstepped his bounds a little.

  “Because you obviously have no previous work experience, and as soon as it gets busy, you’re gonna quit. You’ve no incentive to keep the job. Offer me one good reason why you’ll still be here in November, and I’ll consider it.”