by J. C. Harker
But she didn’t envy any of the royal bastards. Born from a political arrangement and destined to serve their father’s country, they never had the choice she had. For them it was Ascend or die. And all that for what, a life at court filled with back-stabbing and politics.
“About time,” a young red-headed girl said. “What was it, three generations that they’ve been trying?”
“Apparently they were so fed up with the wait that they paid up for a royal escort to follow her around till she Ascended. You know, just to make sure she didn’t get killed like her siblings and the six before that,” the older one continued.
“Should have done it the first time ’round. It’s not like Oristan is running low on gold,” added the red head with a sneer.
“Maybe that’s why the taxes were raised there last year… five thousand Denars is a lot of money,” the older one replied.
“No way! Five thousand?” the red head asked, wide-eyed.
“I heard it was five thousand per guard,” a petite brunette cut in. “Rumor has it that the prince was adamant he would not go through it again, probably for the same reason his father and grandfather tried only once too. They say he still has nightmares from the experience. Well, at least we now know he can deliver in that department…” The small group broke into laughter.
“Was there any doubt about that? I thought half the kids at court were his bastards…” they giggled but soon stopped, looking in Tharia’s direction.
Only then did Tharia realize she had stopped while eavesdropping. She felt her cheeks burn as she quickly marched toward her tree. On the way, she couldn’t help pulling at the sleeves of her shirt to reassure herself that none of her scales were showing.
But the incident did not linger in her mind. Carrying basket after basket full of apples, she worked up a sweat. For Tharia, that was the measure of a good day: hard labor, getting physically involved, and working up a good appetite. And she especially enjoyed the orchard because the trees would tell her tales, whispered by the leaves. If only the other people could hear them, she thought, teenagers would spend a lot less time under those canopies. That pear tree can be snarky! Tharia thought, laughing.
At the end of the day, she waved the farmer good bye and picked a basket-full of apples as part of her payment for the day. The walk back to her house was short. She pushed the door open, entered the kitchen, and dropped the heavy basket just next to the entrance. Exhausted, she fed Dru, had a quick supper, and readied herself for the night. Bonded with her dragonling, she curled up on the bed and soon fell sound asleep.
* * *
Her eyes were still shut when Tharia heard whispers coming from the porch. She sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes. Who could it be at this hour, she wondered, noticing that the sun wasn’t even up yet—though dawn loomed on the horizon. As she slowly became more awake, more questions formed in her head. Why didn’t they knock or call her? Why did they whisper? She took a dagger from underneath her bed and got up. Still half asleep, she forgot to unbond and leave Dru behind. Tharia stood in the bedroom doorway listening in.
A fumbling noise came from the front door, followed by the click of a broken lock. The door creaked as it opened and the whispers continued. Tharia cautiously entered the living room. She was now only one room away from the intruders and could hear them whispering in the kitchen.
“Quickly, you fool, we don’t have much time till the sun is up.”
“No worries boss. There’s nowhere for it to run, and he said the Draphony lives here alone.”
Tharia momentarily froze. She was dressed only in her nightgown; even her wig was left at the nightstand. They were not from here, they weren’t even burglars. Someone sold her out. Another group of hunters who wanted to skin her. And there were definitely more than two attackers. She frantically looked around the room for a solution. She didn’t want to face them, even if she could stall them until sunrise. It would be a bloodbath if she won, and that was always hard to explain to local authorities. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if she didn’t win.
She grabbed the cloak from the chair and rushed back into the bedroom.
“There it went!” She heard one of them shout after her.
She wanted to grab her shoes but there was no time, she put the blade in her mouth and flung the shutters above her bed wide open with both her hands. The dim light flooded the room, and Tharia burst out the window and took off into the air.
“Don’t let it get away!”
An arrow swooshed right by her ear, and two others tore through her left wing. She cried out in agony and crashed to the ground, bruising her knee. But Tharia ignored the pain, and after a quick glance over her shoulder, she sprinted to hide behind the nearest building. She ran between houses, trying to create some distance between herself and her pursuers.
Most of the villagers were still asleep. The few that looked out their windows, alerted by the noise, closed their shutters when they saw her. It didn’t matter whether they thought she was a Draphony or recognized her as a Toivoan Dragon, the effect was the same. She spelled trouble for them, and they would rather stay safe in their homes than get involved.
Soon she was at the edge of the village near a group of barns. The houses were a lot sparser here. She stopped to catch her breath, hiding around the corner of one of the large buildings. She looked in the direction she came from. She couldn’t see her pursuers yet, but she heard their voices getting near. They would be upon her soon. Tharia looked at the huge barn door and tried to pull it open. It was locked with a solid chain.
“Damn dawn,” She hissed, venting her frustration.
“Psst!” Tharia turned toward the sound.
Next to one of the other barns stood a young boy waving his hand at her, signaling her to follow him. Surprised by the kindness, she limped toward him, her bruised knee starting to hurt.
“Follow me, I know a good hiding place.” He grabbed her hand and led her to the back of another barn. She looked for the familiar skin itch of a lie, but it didn’t come, so she followed him.
They passed a few bales of hay before reaching a smaller door, likely a back entrance to the large building. He unlocked the padlock with a key, took down the chain, and opened the latch before pointing inside.
“Thank you so much,” Tharia whispered as she entered the dark space that smelt of hay.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied. He slammed the door behind her. She heard chains being wrapped back around the lock.
“I saw what you did to my dog.” She heard a distinct change in his tone of voice—there was something malicious about it. And he still wasn’t lying.
“That mutt deserved to die. And then you put him back together. At least before he’d do what I told him to.” As he spoke Tharia heard him splash some liquid around and then the smell of alcohol filled her nostrils. “But after you did your stuff it wouldn’t listen. I had good money on it in a fight, but the mutt bit me and run off. And it’s all your fault.”
She heard a click of a lighter. A whoosh sound followed as it ignited the substance and the haystack just next to the door. The boy ran off, his footsteps trailing off in the distance.
“Hey! This way, this way! She’s locked in that barn!” he shouted, and Tharia figured he was giving instructions to the hunters.
The little bastard must have been watching the whole thing from the start, she thought. Very likely it was even him that sold me out to the hunters.
Tharia was trapped inside the barn. It was now only a question what got to her first—the flames or the mercenaries. She looked around the barn. She saw plenty of hay for the fire to burn—but she also noticed a small ladder leading up toward the roof. Dim light came from that direction, and she hoped she would find a window there. At night she could have easily dealt with the high temperature of a fire. Unfortunately, once the dawn came she was as vulnerable to fire as any other mortal.
Tharia stretched the injured wing, grabbed the end and pulled it toward her to
check the damage. The tear was sizable, she would have to repair it before she could fly. The fire was spreading quickly. Her eyes frantically jumped from object to object. She needed to find some living plants and fast.
The floor of the barn was formed from solid ground, some loose straw spread here and there. She pushed boxes and bags around and moved a bale, desperate to find even some tiny weeds. Coughing from the smoke that was beginning to fill the confined space, she reached the end of the barn.
“You idiot, we needed the body,” someone shouted, scolding the boy. She recognized the voice from her house and assumed it belonged to the mercenary leader. They weren’t far, she worried they might risk breaking in to get her.
Finally, in a damp corner, she caught a hint of green. Indeed a few weeds had rooted there. She dug her nails into the hard musky ground, trying to expose more of the plant roots. She would need as much as she could get, even an inch more could mean the difference between life and death. Tharia knew she had only one chance, and timing would be everything.
She ran to the ladder with her dirt-covered hand clasped around the plant. The cloak hanging over her other arm was getting in the way, but Tharia was reluctant to leave it behind. She climbed up the ladder. Her eyes were filling with tears and breathing was becoming hard. But luck was with her, there was a small opening in the roof. She heard people shouting below. She recognized the barn owner’s voice. Joined by some other locals drawn by the fire, he was arguing with the mercenaries over what had happened. Someone called for water buckets in a desperate attempt to put out the flames.
Tharia perched near the opening. The platform she crouched on started to crack, and the heat was unbearable. Sweat was dripping all over her body. The sun was almost up and she could feel her Verdure essence returning. She clasped her hands together with the plants inside.
“Please work, please work…” she whispered to herself, rocking back and forth.
She drained the life force out of the weeds and a delicate green mesh formed over the tear in her wing, stitching it together. She pushed herself off the edge using her heels and jumped out through the opening.
The dried plants crumbled between her fingers as she spread her wings. The platform she leapt from fell down from the jolt of her launch. Still shrouded in smoke, she flapped her wings to rise higher. It worked—just about. She felt a strain in the wing, and the mesh ruptured. The thin threads unraveled one by one.
Desperate, she focused her energy and called once again on her healing powers. For a moment, she felt a surge of energy go through her. Suddenly the mesh not only repaired itself but tightened and formed an almost solid surface. Her knee pain was gone and her lungs felt clear again.
She flew upward at first, using the smoke as cover. Once she was out of crossbow range, she headed toward the sun. Had she looked behind, she would have seen several withered corn fields below—the unintended side effect of the desperate use of her power. But there was only one thing on her mind—escape and survive.
* * *
Tharia had fallen asleep curled up between branches high in the treetops, exhausted from hours of flight. Even though it was barely after noon, she needed a break before she could go on. Not that she knew where to go. She was in a sorry state, in a dirty nightgown, barefoot, with just the cloak to cover herself up. Somehow she managed to hold on to the dagger, but she had no other possessions.
A weird dream came to her, likely fueled by the gossip about a recent Ascension and the events that brought her to this place. At first she felt a presence nearby, as if someone was watching her. Then, as if the observer focused attention on Tharia, the presence moved closer. Tharia braced herself for what seemed like an imminent mental attack. But instead she felt a gentle touch, as if someone lovingly stroked the magical strings that formed her Name.
That’s when she recognized the presence. It was her sister, Jalo, who always was the best Word Weaver of the three of them. Tharia couldn’t see her, but Jalo’s presence was strong and her name vibrated with power. Tharia was surprised and slightly overwhelmed by the pleasant and soothing glow that enveloped her person, a gift from her sister.
When Tharia woke up blurry eyed, yet strangely invigorated, she realized she hadn’t merely been dreaming. Everything seemed brighter and more pleasant. Birds were cheerfully chirping nearby and the sun seeped through the leaves. She almost forgot about her miserable situation. And then she noticed a small, purple butterfly fluttering in her direction. Its fragile wings were covered by circles of various shades of purple and violet, and it reflected the light as if sprinkled with glitter. She instantly knew the tiny insect was a message for her, and Tharia extended her hand so it could land in her palm.
A moment after touching her skin, the butterfly burst, with the quietest of puffs, into a purple cloud of tiny particles. The glimmering cloud floated in the air right in front of Tharia, and staring from within it was the face of her sister. Older than she remembered—they had been separated for nearly fifteen years—but still very familiar. After all, they were triplets.
“I am glad to find you alive, sister. I’ve Ascended,” whispered the purple lips formed from dust. Although nearly silent, Tharia felt their power vibrating through her loud and clear. “It’s everything they said and more. As you know, I’m not allowed to communicate with you or Brila, but I had to. I’ve seen both your Names and you’re far apart, so don’t worry about hurting each other. I’m staying with mom. I hope to see you both soon…”
Tharia felt a warmth come over her as if Jalo hugged her before the dust cloud dissolved in the air.
Tharia’s eyes filled with tears. She was relieved to find out that both her sisters were alive and to hear of Jalo’s Ascension. At the same time, she felt overwhelmed by the situation. She thought she’d be able to settle down somewhere and lead a quiet life in the countryside. But with all that happened the last few years, Tharia was beginning to believe that to fulfill her dream she would need to Ascend. She hated the thought of taking the life of one of her kin—in fact not one life but two—but there really weren’t many other options left open.
She traveled away from the village through the remainder of the day and rested at dawn. With her mind made up, she needed to try to see if she could sense any Toivoans in the vicinity. Tharia closed her purple eyes and went into a meditative state.
She had never been a strong Word Weaver, and with little practice she could only hope to cover a small area. Her vision filled with spots of light that surrounded her like a sphere—so many that they practically blended together. She had to focus hard to dull down Names of items, then those of living creatures, followed by common people. Next she worked around the brilliant shine of all the powerful mages, royalty, heroes, master artists, already Ascended Toivoans and other people of fame—their strong Names often obscured whatever was in their vicinity. She narrowed her search down to just the small region around her, and being a Verdure dragon, she only tried to find the earthy brown glow of a Tellurian dragon or the fiery glimmer of a Blaze.
And she was in luck. She detected a Tellurian just days away. With good fortune she would arrange the fight at night when her offensive, Obsidian magic would give Tharia a likely advantage over the air magic of the other Toivoan. Such timing could help her weaken her opponent during the physical battle preceding the actual power struggle.
* * *
The other Toivoan was on the move, so it took Tharia a few days more than she had anticipated to catch up. But she was finally near. This time she recognized the sensation straightaway. She felt the Tellurian’s nearby presence with every inch of her body. Like an animal in heat. She could sense the other Toivoan’s dragon essence like pheromones.
Tharia walked down a narrow, empty road that led up to a small village. She stopped for a moment to make sure it was the right way. Dressed in ill-fitting clothes she had stolen from a farmer, she marched toward her goal. She pulled the hood over her bald head, but the old cloak barely protected her fro
m the chill of the autumn days.
The few trees on the roadside whispered to her, confirming that the Tellurian had walked by them that same day. The golden fields, heavy with crop, glistened in the afternoon sunlight. They swayed as she passed by like a crowd cheering for a hero going into battle. With Dru perched on her arm, she walked with her head high.
At the top of the hill ahead she could already see the first houses. She followed the road there.
As she got closer, the pull got stronger. She knew the other one was nearby. Tharia’s energy stirred inside her with anticipation and excitement—but also a hint of fear. She only had one chance, and this first encounter could be her last.
With each house she passed, Tharia was followed by the noise of closing shutters. Their eyes filled with fear, women rushed their children inside at the sight of her white scaled arms. The villagers likely knew what two Toivoans in the same place meant. Those of her kind that lived in the open were usually quite welcome in such small towns—people were keen to pay for their services. As long as there was just one.
Her senses led her to the small town square in the middle of the village. One of the bigger buildings was a tavern with a sign that read, “The Wet Hog,” rocking back and forth in the wind. Dru moved nervously on her shoulder and Tharia found it harder and harder to control her dragonling. Dru was eager to give in to the urges that filled both their bodies. Tharia walked up to the establishment.
The smell of a pig roast and the sounds of a crowded tavern seeped through the crack underneath the door. She put her hand on its wooden surface—a rune flashed on her skin. She wondered if the writing was there all along, invisible without the surge of power that now filled the symbols like emerald green ink. Tharia paused for a moment and watched the runes slowly pulse in and out. Even though it wasn’t the first time she had seen this happen, it was always mesmerizing to watch.
With a strong push she opened the door and walked inside.
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