Heart of the Resonant: Book 1: Pulse (Resonant Series)

by B. C. Handler

  My hands scribbled down the characters, but it was all just muscle memory at this point, my mind wandering elsewhere as charcoal etches parchment. The day’s events played back: the awkward wakeup call, Merula’s revelation, coffee time with Koko, and big-bird.

  Though, one thing had crawled up to the mountain of thoughts for my attention.

  I dropped my pencil in the notebook. “Say, Neepa, you know much about dragons?”

  She looked up from her book, a curious look splashing her face. “I’m a little knowledgeable of them, but no expert. Why do you ask?”

  “I shared a cup of coffee with Koko earlier and we had some time to chat.”

  “A cup of what?”

  “Sorry, I meant gahhwat.”

  Neepa’s head flinched back. “Were you two feeling sick? Drinking pure gahwat holds no medicinal properties. At least none I’m aware of.” Neepa tapped her chin while she slipped into deep thought.

  “What we drank wasn’t important,” I said, tossing that bit of information off the table. “Charna and her daughter came in unannounced and I was just curious about them. It felt strange between them… almost tense. Charna is Koko’s nest mother, apparently, and I was a little curious about what that means in a family, or nest, or whatever?”

  Taking interest, Neepa closed her book then cradled her glass of wine thoughtfully.

  “I had a feeling that was the case,” she said, “but I didn’t want to assume.

  “Dragons by nature are prideful and heed honor with utter devotion. Respecting authority is the first lesson all dragons learn through their mothers. While dragons mature to be very mighty and powerful beings, as fledglings, they are just as helpless as human children. They are very dependent on their mothers, or any older siblings. The youngest is always the weakest and has the lowest level of authority. But those dynamics change quite a bit with one adopted into a nest.”

  “Why?” My experience in the system fosters my assumption, but these are dragons we're talking about. Comparing my life to hers would be like comparing apples to... Well, dragons.

  “Once they begin to mature, dragons tend to be very competitive with one another, the once established authority line blurring a little, all of them trying to be in their mother’s favor as the strongest and most worthy of her time. The one who is the strongest gains authority, is groomed better, and receives special guidance. All the competition is to be able to gain permission to leave and start their own nest.

  “For Kokoliniasta, not only is she an outsider, but she is also very, very young in comparison to her nest sisters. I imagine she doesn’t try to compete at all.”

  I made a bewildered face. “But she and Aleih looked to be about the same age, does a year or two really make that big of a difference?”

  “I’ve seen Aleih as well as the other sisters in passing. They all had horns, meaning they’re all at least forty years old.”

  “Really?” Aleih looked like she was in her mid twenties.

  Neepa nodded. “Dragon-beastkin don’t get their horns at least until their thirties. Once their horns come in, that's when their bodies matured and cease aging while steadily growing stronger, then their reservoir of magic begins to swell, as well. Charna is over three hundred and is almost unmatched in might. Kokoliniasta is most likely the weakest, physically and magically; she’s basically a slave to the whims of her nest.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” I admitted to great dismay.

  Neepa rose from her chair and perched herself next to me on the couch. “That’s just how they are,” she said, rubbing my forearm. “Their method of raising their young is why dragon-beastkin are revered to be some of the mightiest creatures between worlds.”

  “I can’t imagine growing up in such a… militant environment.” Learning to respect your elders was one thing, but competing for love, attention, and the right to live an independent life just sounded appalling.

  “Not all of them follow such a strict hierarchy,” Neepa added. “It’s a little rare, but some mothers are more forgiving and raise their young as equals so they each get a fair chance of leaving. And even rarer are the mothers who settle down, perhaps with their mate, and raise a normal family, giving their young the choice to do anything.”

  The bedroom door opened and out stepped Eva, yawning widely. Her eyes settled on Neepa and me. She made a face and said, “You two mind doing that when you’re alone?”

  Neepa looked down at how close she had gotten, even going so far as to press my arm in between her cleavage. She threw her hands in her lap and scooted away. Eva hopped over the couch and reached for the bottle I’d been sipping from.

  “What do you know about dragons?” I asked Eva.

  “Blood thirsty,” she said after taking a hearty drink. “They’re never assigned to small specialized groups because they kill well. If a Null army rips into an allied world, dragons are at the frontline; a battlefield is like playground to most of them. Dragons are of the most magically competent species. A little twisted with how they operate, but they’re effective.”

  Given how Eva described them, those weird vibes I felt from Charna and Aleih made sense.

  “Koko certainly doesn’t seem like the bloodthirsty type,” I said when the woman came to mind. A tad distant and cold maybe, definitely not violent.

  Eva nodded in agreement. “She has to be if she didn’t rip out your heart when you touched her. Then there was that guy who slapped her. I’ve haven’t been around many, but from what I hear, they always get their asses kissed. Hers seems to be kicked all over the place.”

  “Yes. It’s rather strange to have a dragon as a servant,” Neepa agreed. “But, after what you’ve shared, it appears to make sense.”

  “What’s that?” Eva asked.

  “Kokoliniasta is Charna’s adopted nest daughter.”

  “So she’s the runt?”

  Neepa sighed. “Yes.”

  “I’d leave if I were her,” I said. It may have been an easier idea for me to fathom because my birth parents abandoned me; the thought crossed my mind several times when Mom and Dad took me in. At least until I felt actual love.

  “Charna would kill her,” Neepa said grimly. “Honor is everything to a dragon. Breaking one’s word is forbidden. Leaving without a blessing is the most disrespectful thing a dragon could do to their mother.”

  “Challenging chain of command is the fastest way to chaos,” Eva added. “Killing the trouble-maker fixes the problem and sets an example. It makes sense, considering.”

  “Jesus. Is there any other way for her to have her own life that doesn’t involve indentured servitude or fighting?”

  Neepa swirled her glass thoughtfully. “Hmm, I’m not sure. The knowledge I’m going off of comes from all over: books, old stories from Olea, and whatever I overhear. But I believe there may be something where the mother relinquishes their daughter to another, a kind of deal or trade. The word escapes me, but I think it’s just handing over ownership, or passing off, handing off…?” Neepa sighed when the term failed to come. “Though, it must only be a dragon tradition.”

  “She’d be free from her mother, but she wouldn’t have her own life,” I said. Hearing how mothers treat their children like assets is starting to make me loath Charna. It’s wrong to own anyone like that, period. “How can such a thing stand here?”

  “It doesn’t violate any of Scintillion’s statutes,” Eva said while she lay down and kicked an ankle over her knee.

  “Treating people like slaves doesn’t violate laws here?” I asked with a dangerous rise in my voice.

  She turned her head towards me. “What? You think we get to govern all our allies as we please? Loads of other civilizations have their own cultures and ways of doing things; we just can’t expect them to abandon over a millennia of ideals based off our own beliefs, that’s hypocritical.”

  “I figured if everyone’s banding together for the greater good that there’d be a sort of universal moral standard or something
. Like, oh, I don’t know, no slavery?” More heat transferred than I wanted. Difficult not to when hearing slavery and pawning off kin was a tolerated practice.

  “We do, it’s the Allied Agreement. It’s far from perfect, but it is what it is. Each world has a standard legal requirement they must uphold, but each world has its own unique laws and standards. Slavery’s legal in many worlds, but it’s not legal to take any on Scintillion. But if foreigners visit or immigrate with slaves they claimed prior, it’s considered legal. Kokoliniasta is Charna’s daughter, Charna’s responsibility, her property. Quit wasting your breath fussing about it.”

  “I’m afraid she’s right, Al,” Neepa admitted with a touch of bitterness. “Natives here aren’t recognized as independent adults until they’re sixteen, so until then, they’re at the mercy of their parents. Since Kokoliniasta isn’t native and a dragon, she’s at the mercy of Charna till she gives her permission to leave the nest. There’s not anything you can do.”

  I rubbed my temples to quell my anger induced headache. “Christ, it’s just like Cinderella; evil stepmother and evil stepsisters, only the ball is her fucking freedom.”

  “Cinder-what?” Eva asked, sitting up.

  “Cinderella,” I repeated. “It’s a fairytale.”

  “What’s a fairytale?” Neepa asked.

  “Cinderella is a fairy tale––an old story. Haven’t you two ever…” Of course they haven’t. Everyone ever has seen or heard of Cinderella, but I forgot that I wasn’t on Earth anymore. “It’s just a story about a Princess.”

  “Oh, like the life of Princess Laterveria III?” Neepa asked.

  I gave Neepa a blank look. “No?” Was that someone important? “It’s just a story about a girl who lived with her evil stepmother and two evil step sisters, and they forced her into servitude by having her doing all the cooking and cleaning.”

  Eva’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Princesses don’t do servant work. Unless her kingdom is extremely poor. Where does the name Cinderella yield from? Arros?”

  “Is that a place?” I asked then quickly shook my head. “Wait, no, it’s just a story. Cinderella isn’t a family name; it’s just the name her evil sisters gave her.”

  Neepa was the one who looked confused now. “Why would the sisters name her?”

  “Wha––no, it wasn’t her real name. When Cinderella had done the day’s work, she would go into the chimney corner and sit upon the cinders, hence her name: Cinderella.”

  “Then how is she a princess?” Eva asked, Neepa nodding in agreement.

  A heavy sigh tumbled from my mouth and I dragged a hand over my face. “How about I just tell you guys the story?”

  The girls looked at each other and shrugged. Neepa joined Eva on the other couch, both of them waiting for me. A strange tangent but a welcomed distraction to keep my mind occupied elsewhere.

  Taking their silence as my queue, I started. “There was once upon a time, a gentleman who married…”

  It was never something I openly admitted to anyone before, but I loved the old fairytales. My mother took up the practice for two reasons. One was to bond with me while my father worked late with construction contracts, the other to help with my sleep troubles.

  Growing up in an orphanage and a few abusive foster homes instilled the habit of sleeping with one eye open; the slightest disturbance in the mute night kept me up, waiting. Ten might’ve been old to be humoring such fanciful tales, but mystical stories took the place of bad memories, stories lulling me away into grand fantasy to usher in calm sleep.

  The stories were more than just entertainment; it was wisdom. And Mom always had something to add to the stories, going beyond a simple tale and bringing out the moral. Sometimes it was clear cut; others left vague and leaving one to their own devices to derive meaning.

  Two loud knocks at the door disrupted me when I got to the part in the story where the clock struck midnight.

  “I’ll get it,” I offered as I clamored to my feet and made for the door.

  “Wait,” Eva called. “What happens?”

  I turned and saw her watching me, her eyes blazing with curiosity. Neepa, too, was enamored. She leaned forward with her hands firmly on her knees, hanging on for the very next part.

  Entertainment must be fairly drab here.

  Neepa took fascination to anything I said, but I certainly didn’t expect Eva to be so absorbed in a child’s fable.

  I smirked at her. “Hold your horses, I’ll finish it. Just let me see what this is about.”

  Behind the door was Koko, a sizeable wine bottle that had a wax-sealed cap in her arms.

  She bowed. “Good afternoon. Was lunch acceptable?”

  “Scrumptious,” I lied.

  Koko presented the bottle. “I heard you requested extra wine and only deemed it appropriate to gift you one of our vintages.”

  The wine she carried was housed in a green bottle and had a label, as opposed to the nondescript clear bottles stoppered with corks we’ve received with our other meals. The label looked to have some information, all just gibberish to me, still.

  I stood aside and welcomed her in. “That’s very generous. Thanks, Koko.”

  “I-Is that… aged Corin wine?” Neepa asked, eyes wide and her face lit with awe as she avidly studied the bottle.

  “That it is,” Koko answered.” You know your wine.” She paused and eyed the empty bottles across from her. “Clearly,” she said in a neutral tone that still managed to sound condescending.

  Neepa shifted nervously in her seat and turned her face away.

  “Is Corin wine special?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Neepa and Koko answered simultaneously.

  Koko shifted her gaze to Neepa. Neepa regretted letting knowledge guide her mouth and went to tugging at her dress.

  “Yes,” Koko continued. “Corin is a village in a mountainous region on the western seaboard. Their topographical location receives unique climate characteristics unseen anywhere else. The grapes they produce yield some of the finest wine on this world. Especially when aged. This one is twenty years old.”

  “Wow, that’s a bit much,” I confessed.

  When faced with an expensive gift, one should smile and accept. Though, for the longest time, I thought eating out for my birthday at Giada’s Italia was the finest dining. Giada’s was one step below Olive Garden, but one step above a dive bar. So I’m not the kind of guy comfortable with having such a fancy thing.

  “Esteemed guests of the Grand Mage deserve as much.” Koko busied herself and broke the wax seal, then fixed three glasses from our leftover glassware.

  Eva snatched up her glass and eyed the drink. “Let’s see if this stuff is as good as they say.”

  Those chilled eyes of hers watched mine as she offered a glass. The command in the gesture made it seem like she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Doing the easy thing, I accepted her generosity.

  “At least pour yourself one. Share a drink with us,” I proposed.

  Her wings flexed behind her. “After you’ve all tasted it first. It’s only natural for guests to go before hosts.”

  Eva had already knocked hers back. She smacked her tongue a couple times and said, “Not bad.”

  Neepa took a slow draw from hers, taking a moment to pause before going again. After savoring the drink across her tongue, she swallowed and hummed, holding a hand to her cheek. “Oh my, so fine.”

  Koko watched me as I stared at my drink. Without further delay, I downed a large mouthful.

  I wasn’t one who called their palette refined. Knowing the difference between twelve dollar whisky and forty dollar whisky is all my tongue can really do. As my scarce experiences with drinking wine goes, this stuff certainly took the cake. The sweet smokiness of the maroon liquid sent tingles across my mouth and went down gently.

  “Wow, that is good.” The surprising buzz from just one glass made smiling easy. "Thanks for sharing.” Koko said nothing, and continued to watch me, but her sharp eyebr
ows angled aggressively. “It something wrong?” I asked.

  Glass shattering forced me to jerk my head at the girls. Eva dropped her glass and was slumped over the armrest. Neepa sagged halfway off the couch with her glass at her side, eyes closed.

  I made a move towards them, but the room swayed like a boat at sea. My glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the floor. The tingly warmth I felt spread through my body until I couldn’t feel anything but a light buzzing in my limbs, as if I were wearing a coat of yellowjackets. Colors around the room swirled and bled like rain ruining a canvas yet to dry. The floor came at me once up and down became indiscernible. My fall ceased as arms wrapped around my torso. I craned my head over my shoulder and saw the blurry bloom of red and white, the features of Koko’s face blending until only her dull, staring eyes remained.

  ✽✽✽

  Several long moments of me swimming through darkness went by before I realized I was conscious. My brain booted up like an IBM from the '80s; slow and incrementally. Sensation radiated from my hands, then they slightly flexed on a belated command. Familiar fine linen brushed my skin, then I recognized the sensation of a mattress holding me.

  I was in a bed.

  As more sensation processed, one particular feedback took precedence. Immense pleasure coursed along my limbs in a steady wave. The feeling brought a clam that almost drove me back into the destitute of unconsciousness if not for the rising hammering in my chest.

  First I saw the ceiling once my eyes parted after some effort, letting me know I was in my room, and then my gaze drifted down towards my waist.

  There I saw Koko tentatively blowing me.

  She lay on her side perpendicular to my waist, where she continued to slowly, and awkwardly, work her head up and down my shaft, her eyes pinched shut.