“No, dear. I didn’t realize that, mostly because you haven’t told me. How did you find the dragons? What led to you being sent on this mission? Once you’ve told me that, we can go over my story. Deal?”
“Okay, deal.” I nod.
I proceed to tell her in great detail how I found Yackros at the age of five, and then again at fifteen. The teasing, mocking, and stern words regarding the existence of mythical creatures. Everything that occurred with Max, getting lost in the forest again.
I tell her how Max got the information from me, and refused to believe me. Every visit with Yackros and occasionally Guthrie, leading up to the night I almost died. She looks at me as though she has questions, but I don’t let her interrupt me.
I keep going, even giving details about Max and his opinion on the matter. Not because it’s important, but I need to paint a picture so I can find out why Rohesia thinks Max is bad news. What does she know about him? Is it fact or a feeling?
It doesn’t matter. I can ask when I’m done with my story. I keep going. I tell her about all the research I did. Starting with where the town, Dragoon, got its name, leading up to the moment I met the haughty librarian who brushed me off and dared to tell me that information on dragons could only be found in the fiction section.
She laughs at this, but otherwise remains quiet. When I’ve told her all there is to tell, I sit back, taking a deep breath and wondering how I’ve stayed sane dealing with all of this alone. I’ve finally unloaded it off my shoulders, and it feels like I can breathe again.
How I’ve kept it bottled up for so long is a mystery to me. Even though I’m not even close to saving Yackros yet, suddenly it feels like maybe I’ll succeed.
“Alita, you are so strong. Oh, how horribly I misjudged you, and for that, I am sorry. You have walked a lonely path, taking on the consequences of a battle you had nothing to do with.” She looks at me with something I can’t quite place. Perhaps praise all the way down to fear? Pain?
“I’ve been doing this for so long, I can’t imagine anything else. And even at that, I am astounded at all that you’ve accomplished without a shred of proof or even a starting place. I would love to see the research you did, but first, I will tell you my story. It’s important for you to understand where I’m coming from and where we have to go.” She adjusts her chair, turning it to better face me.
“Battles of man versus man mean very little to me. I was a peasant girl on a farmland in a time when my duties involved cooking, cleaning, and never leaving. I was born a servant, and my life revolved around that no matter what.
“Days were damp and cold. The world around me was black and white. I did nothing for myself, I never disobeyed, and I did not believe in happily ever after or true love because they were not part of the life I’d been given. Even friendship was a mere illusion. The others like me would pretend to care for one another, but when there was something to be blamed for, it was anyone’s game.
“The master of the house was a gentle man in the presence of dignitaries, but without guests to be fed and catered to, he enjoyed screaming over the simplest things and making sure there was never a quiet moment in which work could not be found. It was hard, grueling work day in and day out. But it was life, and all I’d ever known.
“That is, until my world was forever changed in one moment. It was common back then for dragons and humans to exist together, remain friends, and there was only the occasional spat. Local leaders would take care of smaller issues, and anything bigger would go to the kings. The human king and the dragon king.” She clears her throat, so much talking making her voice go raspy and low.
“It was a day I’ll never forget. Walking into the woodlands just beyond the borders of my master’s property to fetch water from the spring, Lord Ivan’s favorite to drink, I came upon a creature so large, he could have swooped me up and devoured me in a single bite. He was hunched down, his wings folded over his head, sobbing. Though it was not the same sound a human makes, it was still evident that he was upset.”
I laugh at the way she tells the story, though a crying dragon is no joking matter.
“What was a young maiden to do? I couldn’t very well sneak on by. There was no turning back because that would have made the same amount of noise. And in the few minutes it took, standing there debating this, he’d noticed me. He looked up, his dark green eyes sparkling like emeralds, though at the time I wouldn’t know that because I’d never seen one. This great beast was crying.
“He moaned, a sound not befitting the great creature he was. He plopped his head into the tall grass, resting on his large forepaws. Knowing there was no just leaving the poor creature, I approached, realizing his head was as large as my whole body.
“I sat in the grass beside him, set my bucket down, and in the best cool and calm manner I could muster, I asked him whatever could be the matter.”
I lean forward, barely breathing as I wait for the answer.
“A groan escaped him, shaking the ground, causing me to tremble, though I didn’t mean to.” She scrunches up her nose. “He answered, ‘The king of humans, his head too large for his shoulders, an ego bigger than will fit in his fat squat body, is refusing to rest the case set against me. And it does not matter that my father has appeared before him to make the quandary right. The man has it out for me, though I swear it’s not my fault,’” she says in a deep voice, imitating the dragon she was quoting.
She laughs. “He did not like the human king. To say Fyazum was a spoiled brat is an understatement. Even dragons have their teenage years, it seems. And he was a rebellious one, though he did not mean to be. That particular case had been over missing cattle from a far-off field many knew was frequented by the dragon prince.”
I guffaw out loud, not meaning to, but surprised at the behavior of the dragon I’ve seen to be so highly regarded by his … peasants? I don’t know what the other dragons are considered, but whatever is below king in the dragon world.
Rohesia nods, clearly understanding my shock and laughter. “Indeed, he was not what anyone would expect from such majestic creatures, royalty or not. But I listened to his woes. We spoke for several hours. I felt drawn to him unlike anything before in my life.
“Where the world around me was only blacks and whites, he was color. He was life itself. His scales the colors of that like a peacock’s feathers. Blues and purples creating vibrant patterns. He was the air I needed, the light in my dark world.
“He did not know who I was—no one did.” She shrugs. “But he came back every day to talk to me. To tell me how his day in court went. How his father handled the issue of the missing cows. He told me everything and asked for nothing. On days when I struggled to handle the life I realized wasn’t what I wanted, he would let me cry on his shoulder, he’d encase me in his tail and keep me warm. He took me flying, and I saw the world in a way no one else had. My eyes were opened to magic, to friendship. To life outside being a slave to a heartless master.
“And then one day, he didn’t show up, and I was afraid it had all been a dream. That I’d wasted hours in the forest with a figment of my imagination. I assured myself that couldn’t be. But still, I worried.
“More than a fortnight later, I packed up my few possessions, knowing that no matter where I went, I could no longer remain there. I waited for nightfall before sneaking into the woods with every intention of walking across the globe to find where I belonged. And that’s when he returned. He landed before me, his appearance disheveled. Tiredness in his eyes. He looked at me and said, ‘My dear human, I am so sorry. I never meant to leave you. But my father died. And I am the king now.’
“I wept and shook and stood there speechless, unsure what to say or do. But he leaned down, doing his best to level at my height, and informed me that he knew I had been distraught while he was gone. He could feel what I felt because our bond had begun. I wasn’t feeling any of his pain because he had used his magic to stop it, not wanting me to suffer through his grief.”
“I didn’t even know that possible. Yackros certainly didn’t mention it. The way they spoke of the dungeon, I worried he could be hurt while he’s there. Do you think there’s a chance he’s blocking his pain from me?” I hadn’t considered this, but I feel physically ill, now concerned even more for his safety.
Rohesia’s hand covers mine again, just like in the library, and a calming sense rushes over me. “Either way, he will be okay, dear. Trust me. If he reaches a point where his life is at immediate risk, you will know it whether he wants you to or not. But I certainly hope we can save him before then.”
“Thank you. I hope so too. Anyway, sorry to interrupt your story. Please continue.” I slip my hand off the table, folding my arms again and sitting back.
Rohesia clears her throat and does the same, repositioning into a different—and in my opinion, more comfortable-looking—position. “So he came that day and told me what had happened with his father. How he had suddenly become the ruler of the dragons. It wasn’t a task he was ready to take on, though it never is, but he certainly didn’t expect to deal with that and his bond with a human at the same time. Torn between two duties nearly equally important, he had to leave me be until his councilors and advisors could take over long enough for him to rescue me. And that he did,” she says with a far-off look, grinning ear to ear.
“Where did you go?” I take a sip of my drink.
“Oh, child, we went everywhere and nowhere. That day, he scooped me up and flew into the mountains where his charges lived, a climate they preferred. He built me a home there, he took me anywhere I asked, we did anything I wanted, and he constantly brought me gifts. We were inseparable. My eyes were opened to opportunities I didn’t even know existed as a maid. He loved me with all his heart, and I him. The day he was taken from me was and is the darkest day I’ve ever had.” She wipes tears from her eyes before they can fall.
“We were flying here to meet with the other dragons that had already gone into hiding. Yackros was to place a symbol within the barrier that only myself or the king could see. We flew in circles, keeping close to the ground, searching, knowing just about where it should be, but not close enough to find it without that hidden door.”
She grows quiet, just staring at a spot on the floor, I assume recalling that time, that moment, what must have been at least a few human lifetimes. How long has she been alone? Without her dragon, knowing he’s so close, but so far away, completely unreachable? Or at least I assume as much, given the circumstances.
“Where is King Fyazum?” I remind myself why I trust her. It dawns on me that she hasn’t revealed that, or why she hasn’t saved him. But I still feel safe, and I believe I wouldn’t if she were working for Ruxsiu. And how could she betray her dragon like that? The way she talks about Fyazum is the way I feel about Yackros.
The older woman shakes her head ever so slightly, becoming more emotional than I expected. “I didn’t know for a long time. When we got to a place I know now was just beyond Runavelius, I was snatched, my head covered, knocked out, drugged, and locked away. I could hear Fyazum’s roars fill the air like thunder. He spoke to me in my mind, needing to know I was okay. He asked for my location, but whoever separated us knew what they were doing because for that time, I didn’t know who he was or how he was talking to me, and I freaked out. I had a psychotic episode. By the time I came out of it, it was too late. Fyazum was gone. I couldn’t hear him—I couldn’t feel him. I had no idea where he’d gone. And for a long time, I feared the worst, believing he was dead.” Her voice breaks, her hands are shaking, goose bumps covering her arms.
I feel her pain just by looking at her. “I’m so sorry. What did you do?” I lean forward, elbows on the table, my eyes wide as I’m entranced with this tale, all the information. Daring to hope that she now knows where he is.
“I panicked at first. I was manic. Inconsolable. Dropped in a desert far away from what I was used to and all alone. But I couldn’t let that stop me. I took my surroundings and used them. I mapped out the land, dug through every scrap of trash, paper, cloth, any items left in the small cottage where I’d been hidden away. I called to Fyazum repeatedly, waiting for a response. After a time, it felt like a desperate act only a crazy person would continue doing because I was getting nothing. But on a dark day when the sun barely shone down, in the lowest whisper, there was a voice in my head, calling out to the best of his ability, begging for mercy for the pain in his heart because he had to know if I was alive.
“That’s the moment his ability to hide his pain from me stopped because all that he had endured became too much. He thought I had died, and would kill the kidnappers for that. He had begun to fight through whatever magic they’d put on him. He was calling my name to give him strength, but he broke through the barrier between us, and called to me.”
With every word she speaks, chills go down my spine, and hope fills me to the brim. I need to know more. “Did you find him?”
“Yes and no.” She covers her face with her hands. “I found him, Alita. I tried to rescue him, but unfortunately, it’s not something one person can do alone. And until today, I was the only one who knows dragons exist. I have waited more than a thousand years for someone to come along who could help me rescue my dragon and repair the damage our kind has done to theirs.”
A sense of pride fills me, knowing I’m no longer alone, and that the one person who knows aside from me shares my views, though she certainly knows more than I do. “Tell me what to do, Rohesia. We’re going to save your dragon. And then mine.”
16
I wander around the woman’s living room, marveling at all of the knickknacks scattered on mismatched furniture.
It’s like everything I would expect in someone like Rohesia’s house—old dusty leather-bound books, glass bottles filled with ingredients such as fairy dust, and wolfsbane—and everything I couldn’t possibly see someone like her having, such as the spinning ballerina music box, butterfly decorations, vases filled with mismatched fake flowers, air fresheners, and sewing supplies.
There’s the beginning of a crochet project sitting on the chair in the corner, and a beauty magazine on the coffee table. Sitting beside that is a USB drive and a dirty mug.
“What are your physical capabilities?” Rohesia asks, reentering the room as though she didn’t just disappear in an awkward manner.
“Um … I go hiking a lot.” Mostly to see Yackros.
“The peak we must reach in order to get to Fyazum is going to take incredible physical strength, agility, and perseverance. I assume training would be in order. Fair warning—it’s going to be grueling, but it’s necessary if we ever hope to reach the hidden peak in the Santa Rita Mountains. Which is why I’ve brought a little help. Boys?” she hollers.
Two men walk in. They look as though they could be twins if not for an age difference of twenty years or so. The older one is still young in appearance. He’s wearing a sharp suit, and a white button-up shirt, though the first few buttons are undone. His short dark hair is slicked back on the sides and stands on end on top.
The younger of the two is closer to my age. His hair matches the man’s beside him except for the bit of curl and wave on top. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt—a hint of a six-pack beneath—and jeans. His thumbs are hooked in the belt loops, making his incredibly muscular arms stand out.
There is undoubtedly a blush on my face, and I feel horrible about it. I have a boyfriend, but this guy is hot.
“This is my son, Rhys.” The older one waves. “And his son, Wren.” He nods. “And they’re going to help me train you for our marathon.” She looks at me, beaming.
“Ou—our mara-what?”
Rohesia smiles at me, her head tilted to the side, eyes widened. “Our marathon, Alita. Obviously. What else would you need training for?” she says tight lipped.
“Oh, of course! Duh!” I smack my forehead. “Silly me. I didn’t sleep well last night. Can you tell?” I joke, even though it’s true. And feel
ing like a complete idiot in the process.
I wish she had told me beforehand that her son and grandson had no idea about dragons, though. Or that she was bringing them over to help train me. I wasn’t expecting that, and now I feel even more self-conscious than before.
“So, shall we begin?” Rohesia claps her hands down on her knees before getting up.
I thought I was pretty healthy—until I was handed some gym clothes and had to put them on. Now I’m standing in a vastly empty room with one wall entirely made up of mirrors, mats on both ends, and standing in front of my new personal trainer, Wren.
He’s looking at me with a grin on his face, popping all of his joints and looking far too excited about this. Why Rohesia thought this was a good idea, I’ll never know. I don’t understand any of it. I mean, I guess it makes sense that I need to be fit to go wherever we’re going, but did she have to spring this on me?
And why didn’t she tell her own family about her life? Do they have any clue whatsoever how old she is? Where she’s from? How could she keep it a secret like this? All this time, she had people she could have been training, teaching, helping make sure they were on the dragons’ side for when they become a part of our world again.
Instead, she lived a lie and made sure no one knew it. Knowing she has a family also begs the questions, where is her husband? Is he as old as she is? Does he have any clue about the dragons? Did something happen to him?
All these questions go through my mind one right after another. When I hear my name called, it sounds distant.
I come back to earth and look at Wren, who’s standing in front of me, looking concerned. “You okay?” he asks.
“Sorry, yeah. I’m good. So, where do we start? What exactly does training look like?” I try to laugh, but it mostly sounds like I’m choking. Which I am, on how freaking idiotic I am.
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