Hatchling

by Toasha Jiordano

  Jimmy hid behind Ash, leaning against the tree for cover. When King Ase spotted him by the hut, he’d dropped the slingshot, picked up Ridire-solas, and run.

  Ash spread his wings to shield Jimmy completely.

  Jimmy’s dad stopped. His chest heaved.

  “I was helping,” Jimmy said with no conviction. He didn’t crawl out from behind Ash.

  “Helping?” His dad screamed and tore off his helmet. He paced the edge of the tree line, coming slightly closer with each pass. “Helping who? The Ghadra? I lost good men out there!”

  “I don’t know who that is.” Jimmy stood, anger making him bold. “But that snake was hurting the poor dragon.” Jimmy’s heart ached, remembering the dragon’s torn wing.

  “You don’t… the poor dragon? I can’t believe this!” Jimmy’s dad clenched his fists and teeth. “You cost us this battle. All our hard work. You killed my men. I should —”

  “Your men?” Jimmy answered with equal rage. “Those were your men?” It all made sense now. Jimmy sneered. He pushed past Ash and charged Lord Sweyn. “I should have known you’d fight for the enemy!”

  Jimmy’s dad stepped aside and knocked him to the ground in one swift motion. “Enemy? Do you have any idea what King Deagen has done to this land, boy? He’s sucked it dry and left a barren husk for the people of Valonde to starve. That’s who you felt the need to help!”

  Ash growled and huffed yellow gray smoke toward Lord Sweyn.

  Picking himself up off the ground, Jimmy ignored the sting of ice on his knees. He stood toe to toe with his dad. “Is this what you left us for? To come here and fight over a stupid piece of land. This? This is what’s important to you?” Jimmy’s voice was hoarse with strain and tears.

  Lord Sweyn’s brow furrowed. “Left? What?” He shook his head, pity in his eyes, and turned to leave. “I don’t know what your problem is, kid, but I suggest you run along. I don’t want to see you around here again.”

  A fierce roar erupted from Jimmy. He charged again, this time knocking both of them down the embankment. They tumbled end over end, Jimmy punching and ripping at his dad’s clothes the whole time.

  When they came to a stop, Ash crouched on top of them, clawing Lord Sweyn’s back. Sweyn rolled free and pulled his sword. It glowed bright yellow and crackled.

  Ash roared, smoke and spit flying.

  Jimmy pulled Ridire-solas and dove between them. “Don’t you dare!”

  Leaves rustled behind Jimmy and an even bigger roar rang out, shaking the trees. Lhysa shoved Ash away and wrapped her wings around Jimmy. Again she roared, getting right in Lord Sweyn’s face.

  Tears poured down Sweyn’s cheeks. He shook his head over and over. His terror-filled eyes locked on Ridire-solas. “Where did you get that? What have you done?”

  “I thought my father left it for me to find. Now I’m not so sure.” Jimmy threw the sword to the ground and turned away. Despite the biting cold, his face and neck were on fire.

  Lord Sweyn snatched Ridire-solas from the snow. As soon as he touched it, the world lit up bright yellow. Lhysa and Ash both shrank back from the glow. “Where is Jimmy?” His dad’s voice was a slow quiet threat.

  Jimmy spun around. “I’m Jimmy!”

  Lord Sweyn’s face flew through a range of emotions and landed on disbelief. “Nice try kid. You expect me to believe you’re my Jimmy?” His eyes traveled to Jimmy’s naked cheek, and his hand absently went to his own birthmark.

  Jimmy stepped forward, suddenly aching for the man he’d sworn to hate. He put his hands over his heart to keep it from falling out. “I’m your son.”

  Ash sent Jimmy a wave of calm support down their bond. Another feeling washed over him, stronger than Ash’s but just as caring. Lhysa. A mother’s love.

  “No.” Jimmy’s dad stumbled backward. “No. You’re after the crown.”

  “I don’t want a damn crown! I wanted my father!” Jimmy’s anger boiled over and spilled down his bare cheek.

  Lord Sweyn shook his head. “Jimmy’s four,” he whispered. “He’s only four.”

  Jimmy swallowed the lump in his throat. “I was four when you left. I’m fourteen now, almost fifteen.”

  “Fifteen?” Lord Sweyn’s eyes inspected Jimmy, seeing him fully for the first time, from head to toe. Though Jimmy was still too thin and a head shorter, their resemblance was unmistakable. Until, his eyes rested on the empty cheek. “Where’s your birthmark?”

  “I traded it to get here.” Jimmy shrugged. He wiped hot tears from the cheek in question.

  “You what?” Lord Sweyn stepped tentatively toward Jimmy, arms out.

  “There was this gate in front of the mountain. It was the only way I could get up there. I had to save Ash. Adriel —”

  “What did he say?” Lord Sweyn grabbed Jimmy by both shoulders. “When he took it. What did he say?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Something about a piece of myself, something precious. Who cares? I hated it. I’m glad it’s gone.” Jimmy tried to shrug but his dad held him too tight.

  “The crown will never pass.” Sweyn said it more as a whisper to himself than to Jimmy.

  “What crown? You’re talking nonsense.” Jimmy pulled away. “Why are you called Lord Sweyn? What’s going on?”

  Suddenly, everything about this new world felt alien to Jimmy, intrusive. The blue and white trees hovered over him, swaying ominously. The dark smoke rising from the camp took on a sinister curl. He wanted out of here now.

  “You have to get your birthmark back.” His dad ignored every question.

  “I can’t. It’s gone. We’re gone…” Jimmy pointed over his shoulder where the mountain used to be.

  “Your poor mother,” Lord Sweyn whimpered and let go of Jimmy. “Oh, Angela.” He crumpled to the snow. “What have I done?”

  Before Jimmy could move to comfort him, or decide if he wanted to, green fire filled the air. Screams of agony and clashes of metal soon followed.

  Lord Sweyn leapt to his feet, sword drawn. Ridire-solas still glowed in his other hand. He shoved Jimmy back, handing him the sword. “Stay here.”

  “What? No.” Jimmy struggled against his father’s strong arm. “I’m tired of —”

  Lord Sweyn turned to Ash and Lhysa. “Protect him.”

  Ash’s posture stiffened, standing at attention, and a fierce magic heat enveloped Jimmy. Ash seemed to grow before his very eyes.

  Lhysa’s magic bond clouded black and hot. She began to growl, a low rumble in her throat. The air turned to sulfur.

  Jimmy heard a gasp come from his dad. Then he saw it.

  Lhysa’s tattoos swirled dark electricity. She spread her wings and roared.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  A matching roar came from the battlefield, deeper and more vicious.

  Jimmy shrank back.

  King Daegen’s dragon flew over the camp, spewing fire down upon them. The grass huts burst into flames. People fled from every open shadow.

  Lhysa made another low noise and dug her talons into the frozen ground. Still, she threw back her head and roared again. The intensity matched that of her counterpart. Smoke billowed from her nostrils. Her tattoos turned tar green and sizzled.

  Even as she clung to the ground, she began to lift off. Soon she hovered over their heads, clumps of muddy snow falling from her talons. Another roar, and she was off.

  Jimmy and his dad exchanged quick confused glances, then both turned to Ash.

  He had no tattoo, and yet, Jimmy could see it in his eyes.

  “No, Ash. You don’t have to. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. If you go out there —”

  Ash leaned down and nuzzled Jimmy, cheek to cheek. A low, sorrowful noise rose up from his chest. Their magic bond turned yellow, then green, and Jimmy knew he would go.

  “Please,” was all Jimmy could say before Ash vanished.

  The battle grew closer; everything turned gray as smoke rose up the embankment toward them. Screams and cries rose with it.

&
nbsp; “You have to go!” Jimmy’s dad shook him. “Now!”

  “I can’t!”

  There was a loud crash as one of the buildings caved in on itself.

  King Daegen rode his horse through the crowd of fleeing people, slashing left and right.

  “You have to!” Lord Sweyn pulled a small box out of his pocket and pressed it into Jimmy’s hand.

  Jimmy opened the box. As soon as the sunlight hit the stone inside, a beautiful note began to play. A voiceless song.

  Jimmy’s dad snapped the box shut. “Give this to your grandfather. Tell him the queen is underground.”

  “How?”

  Lord Sweyn raised his sword. There were words inscribed on it, but Jimmy couldn’t read them. They lit up with powerful magic which ran through the sword and into the empty space beside Jimmy. The ball of light alternated, hot and cold. It stretched, up and out, until it was bigger than both of them.

  “Go!” Jimmy’s dad struggled to hold the sword steady with both hands. “Now! I won’t let you be conscripted. I’ve seen too many boys your age die by Daegen’s sword. My son won’t be one of them!”

  “I can’t leave Ash. My friends! I can’t.” Jimmy struggled, but his father was larger. He backed Jimmy up until the only move he had was to step through. “I can’t.”

  Another flash of green light tore through the sky as Lhysa set the last roof on fire.

  People ran for the woods. Jimmy recognized the giant, and Rowan in his arms. Where was Isaac? He didn’t see Isaac.

  When the swarm of people reached the forest, the giant threw Rowan toward the portal. Jimmy pushed past his dad to catch her, but she landed on her feet and took off running.

  “Your leg…” Jimmy stared, mouth open.

  “It was incredible. You should have seen —” Rowan ran past him.

  “Isaac!” Jimmy yelled. “Ash!”

  “Go!” Jimmy’s dad yanked him by the arm and shoved him toward the portal. “Please go.” His voice cracked. He pushed Jimmy and Rowan through the ball of light.

  Jimmy reached back toward Valonde, toward his father, “Save them!”

  The world went dark.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Jimmy landed with a heavy thud on the hard road. Rowan knelt beside him, already getting up and dusting herself off.

  Jimmy sprang to his feet. Everything seemed back to normal. Green grass, brown trees, blue sky. He felt for his birthmark.

  Rowan shook her head. Her hair tumbled in her face and he could tell she’d been crying. He went to her. For a minute, they stood there, in the middle of the road, holding each other.

  “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into his shoulder. Her tears soaked the animal pelt his dad had wrapped around him in the frozen forest.

  Jimmy sighed. She was the only person he had left. He didn’t want to fight with her anymore. And if his father's words had any truth to them, he'd just done something equally horrifying to the families of his own men. He didn't want to think about any of that right now. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Some day, I’d like to hear them.”

  Rowan looked up. “They’re all gone.” She heaved, her breath catching, and laid her head back on his chest. “Gone.”

  As he held her, Jimmy felt out into the world, searching for his magic bond with Ash. For a moment, he felt something flitter under his skin, but he couldn’t be sure. Nothing like it used to be.

  “What are we gonna tell Isaac’s aunt?” Jimmy wondered out loud. The question made Rowan start up again, harder.

  “It’s all my fault.”

  Jimmy couldn’t come up with a good argument, so he stayed quiet and let her cry it out. He choked back his own tears, waiting to lose it in the cover of darkness.

  After a while, they began walking down the road. Nothing looked familiar to either of them, but they kept going. Soon, Jimmy had to peel off the hot animal fur and wrap it around his waist.

  They hadn’t gotten far when they heard a noisy truck ambling up the road toward them. Never had Jimmy been so happy to see that ugly thing.

  Grandpa James waved and pulled over. “Got here as fast as I —” His voice cut off when he saw Jimmy’s face. “What in Odin’s name did ye do, child?”

  “It’s a long story.” Jimmy helped Rowan in the truck and scooted in behind her.

  “Yeah, I reckon we both got some stories to tell.” Grandpa James looked around, probably searching for Isaac. When he saw nothing, he revved the engine and they sped off in silence.

  They finally reached the road leading to Grandpa’s farm as the sun moved high in the sky. How long had they been gone? Overnight? Days? Jimmy didn’t think he wanted to know.

  When Grandpa James turned the wrong way, Jimmy straightened in his seat, trying to get his attention.

  “It’s alright boy,” Grandpa James whispered.

  As they bumped down the dirt road, Jimmy saw a dilapidated farm in worse shape than theirs. In the driveway was MacLauren’s tractor, still with the same bales of hay hanging off the back of it.

  MacLauren stood on the porch, wringing his hands. The old man looked haggard, spent. He had a cast around his leg and a bandage over his forehead. It was a pitiful sight, but it didn’t make Jimmy hate him any less.

  His fists balled up in his lap.

  When the truck stopped, neither Jimmy nor Rowan moved to get out.

  “Now,” Grandpa James said, closing his door and sticking his head through the window, “he’s right sorry for what he done. And I can’t blame the man none.”

  “You can’t —” Jimmy felt the rage bubble up inside him.

  He was just about to fling open the truck door and charge the hobbled old man when he heard the sound of a screen door bang shut.

  Aunt Sarah stepped out, wearing a bloodied apron and wiping her brow. She looked expectantly toward the truck, then her tender face fell. Her knees buckled and she caught herself of the door.

  “Tell her how much you forgive him,” Jimmy spat and slouched down in his seat. His cheeks burned and he held his breath to stop the tears from falling. Not yet, he willed them. Not yet.

  Rowan climbed out Grandpa James’s side since Jimmy wouldn’t budge and walked slowly around the truck. Jimmy watched her face transform from the same fury he felt, to pity, and finally soften to love. She threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck, almost knocking him backward.

  Sarah patted them both on the back, her own eyes full of tears. She nodded to Grandpa James who got back in the truck.

  There was no sound beyond the ragged engine trying to get them home and the occasional intake of breath as if Grandpa James wanted to speak. But he never did. He let Jimmy have his space to seethe.

  When Jimmy could take it no more, he asked, “How can you let him get away with this?”

  “He’s nae to blame for any of it. We are.”

  Jimmy looked at Grandpa James like the old man had lost his mind. “Isaac’s probably dead because he helped Adriel.”

  Grandpa James flinched at the mention of that name. He knew it. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Angus’s… Rowan’s whole family is dead because of our war.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  When they pulled up to the farmhouse, Jimmy stormed inside and slammed the door to his room. Everything was wrong. The bed smelled like Ash. The plate of old hot dogs still sat on the floor, half eaten by Ash.

  The closet door stood slightly open, his dad’s board games peeking out. The books Jimmy had found in the barn sat stacked beside the bed, the Knights and Armor picture book on top. Jimmy picked it up, feeling its weight in his hands. He ran his fingers along the raised cover, a medieval depiction of a helmet much like the one he’d seen on his father. He wondered if his dad’s fingers had touched this same spot.

  The side of the nightstand caught Jimmy’s eye. The shiny brass handle glinted in the sunlight coming through the window. He felt around on himself for the rune, but it was gone. The medieval carvings and overall misplaced look of the nights
tand made a lot more sense now. He went over to it and pulled out the drawer, searching for… he didn’t know. Jimmy retrieved the coin-shaped piece of metal from his pocket. At least that hadn’t been lost, though whatever bravery it gave him had been a waste. He tossed the charm into the draw.

  Tucked way in the back behind the medallion’s box, was a crumpled piece of paper with his mother’s name on it. He began to unfold it, and a sense of dread washed over him. Could he handle any more surprises right now?

  There was a knock at the door. “I think it’s time we talked.” Grandpa James’s voice sounded muffled.

  Jimmy shoved the letter back in the drawer. “I just can’t right now, Grandpa.” Jimmy blinked. It was the first time he’d called him that.

  “I ken it’s hard, but what we’re about to face is much harder. Best to get started before ye lose yer nerve.” The door opened a bit, but Grandpa James didn’t come in. Jimmy wondered if he’d ever crossed the threshold since his dad disappeared.

  “My nerve is long gone.” Still, Jimmy crossed the room and opened the door.

  Grandpa James put his arm around Jimmy. “Ye’d be surprised how much ye still got in there,” he said, and poked a crooked finger in Jimmy’s chest.

  They walked together down the hall. Grandpa James led Jimmy to the living room where an old chess board sat on the coffee table. The pieces were already in place, squat figures of carved ivory and obsidian. Their features reminded Jimmy of the men he’d seen in Valonde. Rugged and ancient, yet so like him.

  “We don’t have time for games.” Jimmy pulled away from Grandpa James. “We have to go back. Now!”

  “In time. But first, ye learn. Chess is no game. It is a lesson in strategy.” Grandpa James lowered himself into his chair and pushed a black pawn out two spaces. “War isnae won on the battlefield. ‘Tis won in the minds of the leaders.”

  Jimmy sat in the chair across from Grandpa James, more from exhaustion than acceptance.

  “Now, tell me.” Grandpa James motioned for Jimmy to make his first move.