Hatchling

by Toasha Jiordano

  A dragon-shaped darkness passed overhead. King Daegen’s beast roared a warning down at King Ase. Then, with a heavy wing flap, it dove toward Lord Sweyn and his men.

  King Ase turned toward the sea, sweat pouring down his cheek. He itched to wipe it away, but the faceplate prevented relief. Through the few trees lining the cliff and thick fog, he could see the tips of the Basalt Islands rising from the sea.

  Childhood stories flashed through his head. Trolls turned to stone and banished from the kingdom. If only the tales were true, he’d call upon them now for help.

  As if reading his thoughts, the dragon turned its attention back to Ase and his men. They’d managed to trek the first tight curves of the narrow path. The dragon roared another, final, warning.

  King Ase made fleeting eye contact with Lord Sweyn across the smoke and flame filled battlefield. With a nod, Sweyn assured Ase that his men would be fine. “Don’t worry about us,” the nod conveyed.

  “Gu Buaidh!” King Ase raised Gwrinhan high in the air, waiting for the return cry of his men.

  “No bas!” There were much fewer voices this time, but intense just the same. The massive Jotnar, with its stride the length of two men, quickly overtook King Ase and walked ahead. Even in the midst of war, Ase had to stifle a laugh at the fourth and fifth trophy shields across its back.

  The sky burned green and gray, a new fire assault from Daegen’s weapon. It screeched and snorted, diving for the giant. Two wooden arrows flew over Ase’s head, both missing the beast as it swooped, mouth aimed to fire.

  “Again!” Ase shouted.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jimmy sat alone at the small kitchen table eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The table was made of a bunch of small branches glued together. Jimmy wondered if Grandpa James built it himself. It looked neat, way beyond his skill level, but the bark hurt his elbows.

  He’d hoped being inside would calm him after so much outside today. But the farm still felt foreign. He couldn’t relax. He kept telling himself to stop scanning the room for somewhere to hide. There were two adults in the house now. He was safer than he’d been in a long time.

  Mom and Grandpa James talked under their breath in the living room. The old black and white TV was on full blast. The anchor reported unusual flashing lights in the sky. One witness swore it had to be ‘those darn Russians bombing us to Kingdom Come.” Another witness, a lady that sounded older than Grandpa James, complained about a shadow covering her field but not her neighbor’s. Jimmy tried to tune them out. He wanted to hear what his Mom said to this stranger about him. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t do it.

  With a frustrated sigh, Jimmy flipped through the magazines to distract himself. He almost took them straight to his room, his dad’s room, but he needed more time to prepare himself. Good thing, too. The colorful pictures almost held his interest.

  All of a sudden, a burst of fear shot through Ash. Jimmy jumped up. Their magic bond buzzed. The magazine he was reading dropped to the table. On his way out the door, he felt for the slingshot in his pocket. The broken rubber band hung limp in his fingers. Useless.

  Jimmy ran out the back door as fast as he could, letting it slam behind him. Ash’s terrified scream filled Jimmy’s head. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” Jimmy cried back with each step.

  When he reached the barn doors, the smell hit him before anything else. Electric danger. Jimmy never knew that was a smell before today, but now he did. Barreling through the double doors, Jimmy almost stumbled over Ash. The poor thing had his wing caught in the slats between the doors. Now free, Ash flapped frantically for Jimmy to pick him up.

  “It’s alright,” Jimmy cooed, petting Ash and holding him close. “You’re fine now. Let me see it.” Jimmy turned Ash around to get a better look at his wing and maybe even kiss it better.

  But Ash wouldn’t calm down and they weren’t fine. The hairs on Jimmy’s arms prickled. The electric danger smell closed in on them.

  Although his first impulse was to run and - as much as he hated it - call for his mom, Jimmy didn’t do either of these things. Instead, he set Ash on the ground, hiding him in the shadows of the barn’s gloomy furnishings. “Stay here,” he told Ash. “I’m gonna check it out.” Ash made an upset sound but obeyed. Their bond turned dark and crackled with fear.

  Bright sunlight burned Jimmy’s eyes as he opened the barn doors slowly. He’d only been in there a minute but the darkness was complete. White spots twinkled in his vision so he couldn’t see where the smell came from. His whole body now knew it was closer than before. Again he reached for his dad’s slingshot and chided himself for not taking a decent weapon from the barn. All those scary tools and he only had a broken toy. If he got out of this alive, he’d never allow himself to be unprepared again.

  The dusk kicked up from under Jimmy’s feet. For the first time, he noticed the dirt was black, not clay red like back home. The slightest movement on his part created a fog that followed him and swirled up ahead. It threatened to give away his location. He slowed, but now every step crunched on the dry hard ground. Up on his toes, with his hands out for balance, Jimmy snuck across the backyard. First he crossed to the side of the house and flattened himself against the wall.

  The house was built with log cabin wood like the lumpy kitchen table. Splinters snagged Jimmy’s shirt as he slid across it. One jagged piece stabbed the back of his neck and he had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep a cry from escaping.

  When the pain calmed, Jimmy peeked his head around the corner. The white dots had disappeared but he still couldn’t see anything that would cause that smell. He only knew it meant him harm. His fingers buzzed with the electricity, as if the smell traveled through him and wanted out.

  Grandpa James’s house had a long porch wrapped all the way around it. Mom had said how lovely it was when they’d pulled up earlier, but now it blocked Jimmy’s view of the front yard. He’d have to investigate.

  Jimmy’s whole body told him not to step around the screened-in porch into the wide open. But whatever waited out there had gained ground. If he stayed put, it would be upon him in no time. He was only a few feet from Ash. If it got him, Ash was next. He couldn’t let that happen, no matter how much his hands trembled.

  The thought of any harm coming to Ash pushed Jimmy forward. His fingers, not quite as brave as the rest of him, clung to the log wall for one last moment. Jimmy yanked the broken slingshot from his pocket, ready to throw it at whoever or whatever.

  With his arm raised, Jimmy ran around the house, screaming.

  A man, as old and spindly as his new grandfather, walked back and forth across the yard as if searching for something in the grass. The old man’s head jerked up, either from Jimmy’s roar, or the creak of the front door.

  Grandpa James and Mom appeared on the front step. An ancient looking rifle rested on Grandpa James’s arm. The barrel pointed at the intruder who had gone still. Mom tried to push the gun down and away since Jimmy had run himself right up next to the stranger. They rifle had both of them in its sights. Jimmy backed away slowly.

  “Ach, this is private property. State yer business or git.” Grandpa James growled.

  The intruder wrung his hands, then lifted them above his head. “I don’t mean ye no harm. I was comin’ to introduce myself to ye. I bought the Gordon farm over the hill and I reckon that makes us neighbors.” All the while, the man’s eyes darted around.

  “Why didn’t ye knock?” Grandpa James lifted the gun’s barrel to the man’s head.

  Without flinching, as if being on the wrong end of a gun was a common occurrence for him, the man stepped forward. “Well, I…I didn’t think nobody was home.”

  Everyone’s eyes turned to the battered rust-bucket truck parked on the other side of the yard. Jimmy could easily see how someone might mistake it for junk. The man continued, “I’s just turnin’ ta leave when this fine young man here,” he pointed at Jimmy. “He came a’runnin to protect his land. Yep, that
’s a mighty warrior you got there.” The intruder punctuated his comment with a yellow-toothed smile.

  Jimmy’s chest puffed. “You hear that, Ash?” Jimmy asked down their magic link. The bond filled with the brownish gray color of an eye roll.

  Grandpa James lowered the gun, but not all the way. “I didn’t ken the Gordons was sellin’.” From behind him, Mom waved Jimmy back further, a look of pure terror in her watery green eyes.

  “Naw, they wut’n. Death in the family I think. Happened fast.” The visitor put one hand down by his side and the other outstretched toward Grandpa James. “Name’s Angus. Angus MacLauren.”

  With that, the rifle lowered the rest of the way and stood upright on its tip, forgotten. “Why I’ll be. You any kin to the MacLaurens back home in Aberdeen?” Grandpa stepped forward, hand out.

  “Sorry ta say I am!” They both laughed and hugged like old friends.

  Mom caught the rifle before it fell to the ground and the two men turned to go inside. The talked loudly in a mix of English and that rough language Jimmy couldn’t understand. To him, it sounded like a couple dogs grunting and coughing. Mom followed them inside and placed the gun behind the dresser next to the door. Jimmy made a mental note of its location just in case.

  Jimmy passed them and went to the kitchen to get his leftovers for Ash. He sent a quick message through their magic tether. “Everything’s fine, for now.” He wasn’t sure why he added that last part.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  While the grown ups talked about grown up things, Jimmy stayed in the barn and fed Ash some of his sandwich. Ash spit it onto the floor and tried to light it on fire with his breath. Still only smoke came out. After a while, he gave up and swallowed the stale dirty bread whole.

  “We really need to work on our defense system,” Jimmy said as he paced along the barn wall. His heart still hadn’t stopped pounding. “A stranger got too close to you today. We need to be better prepared. We’re a sad pair aren’t we. A boy with no weapons and a dragon with no fire.”

  From the noise Ash made, he did not agree. His pointy ears twisted backward.

  “We need to practice your fire. You really oughtta’ be able to do that. And flying. We’ll get you airborn in no time.” Jimmy smacked a fist into his palm.

  Jimmy was so caught up in the plan he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. His foot kicked the edge of his dad’s box, which fell into the stack of things he had piled up earlier. His dad’s memories scattered across the dirt floor.

  Jimmy fell to his knees. He scooped everything up as fast as he could and gently placed them back in the box. Then he carried them to the far back corner of the barn and covered the box with a blue tarp.

  As he turned back toward Ash, something caught his eye. Shoved behind some old tools, an odd-shaped piece of pale wood stuck out. Jimmy grabbed it by what looked like a handle and pulled. It was a wooden sword. Had he just made a sword appear out of nowhere? Ash made a definite ‘Idunno’ sound in his throat and their magic bond turned to gray fog.

  About half as long as Jimmy was tall, the wooden sword had swirling designs carved into one side of the dull blade and a black tape handle.

  “Ridire-solas” Jimmy said, trying to read the name scratched along the blade’s dull edge. “Ridire-solas,” he tried again, more sure.

  Ash began to flap his wings frantically. Red and black fear shot through their magic bond. The sword buzzed in Jimmy’s hand. The tape handle writhed beneath his fingers then settled into a perfect fit.

  Jimmy dropped the sword and snatched his hand back.

  “Did you do that?” he asked Ash, who still flapped wildly. The hatchling half-flew half-ran to the sword and danced around it, screeching. His little baby talons scratched at the floor, trying to push the sword away.

  Jimmy picked up the pale wooden sword slowly. The handle felt like it was made for his hand. He swung the sword back and forth, testing it. Although large, it had a nice balance. It wasn’t heavy at all.

  Ash stopped screaming but kept flailing around, trying to fly up to the sword. Smoke billowed from the baby dragon’s mouth and nose.

  “Here,” Jimmy said, and lowered the sword for Ash to climb on. Ash looked at Jimmy, then the sword, then back at Jimmy.

  “It’s alright, come on.” Jimmy nodded.

  As soon as Ash’s feet touched the sword, the buzz came back. A pure yellow glow traced all the designs etched into the blade.

  “Whoa,” Jimmy laughed.

  Ash made his purring noise.

  “I think we found our weapon.”

  Jimmy couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He and Ash spent every second of it intensely focused on training. First they worked on Jimmy’s sword handling. Jimmy sliced the air with Ridire-solas and jabbed imaginary bad guys. Every time he got one, Ridire-solas played along and lit up bright yellow. Then when his arm gave out, they switched to Ash’s fire drills.

  A wooden block, a metal garden tool that looked like a fork, and an old green bottle waited on the floor in the middle of the barn. Ash worked up a good roar, stretched his neck way back, pointed his ears back even farther, and blew. All he managed was a lot of huffing and puffing and a smoke-filled barn.

  “Good job, look at that.” Jimmy picked up the bottle. The cloudy green glass had slight char marks on one side. “You’re getting it!”

  Ash flopped down, exhausted but content. His chest heaved and he coughed black smoke.

  “Jimmy!” Mom’s voice echoed from just outside the barn doors.

  Forgetting his exhaustion, Ash jumped up and ran to hide.

  “In here!” Jimmy called back. He shoved Ridire-solas in his belt.

  “Can you… come inside please? I’d like to spend time with you before…” She trailed off.

  Jimmy looked toward where Ash had disappeared and lifted a finger to his mouth. He didn’t know if that was an appropriate shushing motion where Ash came from, but he gave it a shot.

  “Coming!”

  When the doors opened, Mom stopped pacing and turned her head away like she didn’t want to see inside. He didn’t blame her. Jimmy didn’t figure she was having as much fun here as he was. Then he smiled a little at the realization that he was having fun. He’d expected this to be the worst summer ever, and so far things had been pretty awesome.

  In the darkness, which surprised Jimmy - he didn’t know they’d taken so long - he couldn’t see the expression on Mom’s face. But he imagined it was that thing she always did when she didn’t want to have a tough conversation. She’d bite her lip and stare at her shoes.

  Jimmy took a deep breath and smiled wide for Mom’s sake. “Can we play some games?”

  The barn doors slammed shut and Mom exhaled. “I’d love that.”

  Inside, Jimmy could still hear Grandpa James and Mr. MacLauren talking. He scrunched his face and strained hard to make out a few of the words between their strange language and thick accents.

  “… lights flashin’ and stuff. Craicte! I tell ya. Crazy!” Mr. MacLauren sat across from Grandpa James. Both men looked to be swallowed whole in their large recliners. The visitor pointed a bent finger at Grandpa James. “Keep yer eyes peeled for it, caraid.”

  “What’s he saying?” Jimmy whispered to his mom. “I can’t understand a word.”

  “Me either, sweetie. It’s Gaelic, and quite a bit of farmer.” Mom chuckled, then recovered quickly. “They’re Scottish. Your father is… was Scottish. He didn’t speak much of the old language, but he had their accent.”

  “This is gonna be a long summer,” Jimmy said before he could stop himself. He felt Mom stiffen beside him.

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t have a choice. You know that, right? I would never leave you unless I absolutely had to. Besides,” Mom added, brightening her smile, “you’ll learn it quick. By the time you come home I’ll need a translator to understand ye.” Mom affected her best southern Scottish accent.

  “What’s all that goin’ on in t
here?” Grandpa James started to get up from his chair but fell back. “Blasted knee!”

  Mom stepped forward into the living room. “We were just wondering if you had any games.” Mom squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder.

  “Games?” Grandpa James asked as if it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Why, I reckon if there’s anything it’s back in Jim’s room.” He jutted a thumb down the dark hallway. “But who knows. I ain’t done gone in there nigh on ten years now.”

  It was Jimmy’s turn to freeze. He’d been avoiding that room all day. He forced himself to breathe.

  “Great, either of you want to play if we find something?” Mom asked while gently shoving a reluctant Jimmy toward the bedroom.

  Grandpa James agreed to play for a bit, but Mr. MacLauren said he had to get back home to Rowan. He rose with an audible groan and a brittle bone somewhere cracked loud enough for Jimmy to hear it down the hall. As he entered the room, Jimmy caught a few last words about a fair in town and the grown ups making plans for the kids to play together.

  Again Jimmy groaned. He did not play. And he did not want to spend his summer babysitting some weird old man’s grandkid. He’d have to find a way out of it.

  The room was dark when Jimmy opened the door. No light filtered through the small window above the bed. Night had come on fast. Jimmy felt exhausted all of a sudden, like the weight of the entire day - entire summer - hit him all at once.

  “You doin’ alright?” he asked Ash through their bond.

  A warm comforting glow filled the link between them and Jimmy relaxed.

  “I’ll try to come see you tonight before I go to bed.”

  The glow turned blue-cold and scared.

  “I can’t let you in here tonight, not with Mom around. You might scare her.”

  A flash of red.

  “Not on purpose. Just… practice… flying.” Jimmy’s next thought was, ‘Please don’t practice fire breathing without me,’ but he kept that one to himself. No use giving Ash ideas.