by Jada Fisher
2
Rough Start
“And who can tell me the siblings that established the first official dragon riding militia? You, desert girl?”
Ukrah stared at the hawk-nose woman, her arms folded across her chest. She hadn’t raised her hand—she never raised her hand—and yet the professor had called on her anyway.
“I don’t understand why she has to have a translator here. All she does is sit there quietly.”
Ukrah didn’t even bother to turn. She knew exactly who was piping up, because it was the same girl who had taken to bothering Ukrah her entire first week of being at the academy.
Melithindre was her name—a very old, traditional name, apparently—and she was a well-to-do girl from a long line of dragon riders. Slender, with long blond hair and pretty doe eyes, she was the opposite of everything Ukrah was.
It also didn’t help that she seemed to have a whole gaggle of students in her thrall. They too would pester Ukrah, trying to gain Melithindre’s approval.
It was nothing direct, of course, because Ukrah would have defended herself. No, it was always some sly thing, comments she didn’t always understand until later, or quietly being shut out, backhanded compliments that weren’t compliments at all. The list went on and on.
“Miss Ukrah has a special situation that has been arranged by the council. Do you, Lady Phyrra, think you know better than them?”
“No,” the girl responded, and Ukrah could practically hear her batting her eyelashes and giving the professor an innocent look. “I understand that certain exceptions need to be made for some students, but certainly not calling her by her family name is a bit forward, yes?”
Ukrah rolled her eyes, but if she didn’t know better, she would say that the teacher almost looked amused by Melithindre’s passive aggressive comment. Ukrah certainly wasn’t pleased.
“As far as I know, Miss Ukrah does not have a family name. Is that correct, Miss Ukrah?”
She just continued staring at the crone of a woman, training her face to be as impassive as she could. She would not let them rattle her, since that was what they were so clearly trying to do.
“That’s correct,” Crispin answered for her.
“Oh, that seems so strange. Certainly, they have family names even in the savage lands!” Her tone of false concern was grating and Ukrah pressed her fingertips into the table, the only reaction she would allow herself.
“It’s the wilds,” Crispin corrected. “Funny that you sound so surprised considering the governess of our own city has no family name. Or are noble’s daughters just that ignorant?”
There was a chorus of surprised whoops and hollers with a few people yelling in shocked defense of Melithindre before the professor yelled at them to settled down. Eventually everyone did, and Ukrah looked to Crispin gratefully.
True to his nature, the boy just winked and kissed the top of her egg where it sat between them on her desk.
She may have been weird to all other initiates around her, but at least he was just as odd.
At least she always felt at home in the cafeteria, loading up her plate with so much food every day she was surprised she didn’t get sick. But even as much as she stuffed herself, Crispin ate twice as much while remaining a beanpole, and he didn’t even have to do all the running and other exercises that were required of the dragon rider hopefuls.
“Thank the spirits,” he said as they dragged themselves toward the massive table that held so much food. It still shocked her the absolute wealth of resources they had in the civilized lands. Often, she thought they had it too easy and that was why they wasted time on war and bullying. Or why there was such a high demand for slaves. Of course they wanted people to do all the work for them when they were so unused to struggling on a day-to-day basis. “I thought I was going to starve.”
“We just ate this morning,” she said, although her stomach was aching as well. However, she wasn’t sure if that was from all the crunches their field trainer had her do or her hunger.
“This morning was forever ago. Also, they didn’t have these delicious biscuits. Have you tried one of these?”
Ukrah looked to the round thing in his hand, completely unimpressed. “That is a circle of bread.”
“What!? Clearly you have never had a good biscuit, otherwise you would not say such things. Here, open up, I’m going to enlighten you.”
Ukrah gave him a look. “I’m not going to—”
But then his hand darted forward and the biscuit was in her mouth, warm, buttery, soft, and wonderful. She was so distracted by the pleasant flavor and comfort of it that she didn’t even bite at the boy’s fingers like her instincts told her to.
“Ooh muh gushnnss!” she said around her mouthful, knowing her eyes were wide, but she didn’t care. She had never known that such a treat could be so simple but so satisfying. Swallowing it down, she motioned to her plate.
“More!”
“Yes, m’lady. I think I’ll help myself to some as well.”
They did indeed give themselves three of the delicious circles each. Ukrah was tempted to take more, but she reminded herself that there was a whole massive building of others who would probably want them too. She still struggled for a bit after that because, frankly, she didn’t think most of them deserved a treat so nice, but she managed to restrain herself in the end.
“Oh hey, you there, desert girl!”
A voice called her from the long cutout in the wall that allowed the kitchen staff to see what needed to be replaced. Ukrah was beginning to hate the term ‘desert girl,’ but she was relieved when she turned and saw a smiling face instead of a suspicious or disapproving one.
“Hey, yes, you! You’re Eist’s girl, right?”
She relaxed instantly, crossing over to the truly large man leaning out of the window. While he wasn’t a mountain of impossible muscle like Athar, he was nearly as tall, with a barrel chest and a large belly that almost made him look friendly.
“Lady W’allenhaus is my sponsor, yes.”
The man let out a large, jovial laugh. “Lady W’allenhaus! So funny to hear her be called by that name when I’ve known her since she was a wee lass. Well, I suppose for all her years, she’s still wee.” The man grinned broadly at her, the scars on his face flushing with color. “Never met a youngling who appreciated a good meal as much as that lass and her friends, so any of her kin is good in my book. You ever want something special, you just come right up to ol’ Braddock. I only work here during supper now, as her husband helped me open my own bakery in the city, but I’ll make sure to keep you fed. I see you’ve already had my biscuits. Those are right nice, aren’t they?”
Finally, a friend! Ukrah’s first week had been so rocky and people had been so standoffish that she had wondered if the whole idea had been rotten from the start. “Thank you, Sir Braddock. That’s very kind of you.”
“What? I thought you weren’t supposed to speak common that well. You speak plenty fluent for me!” He laughed again, but it wasn’t like he was making fun of her. No, it was something else entirely, something that made her spirit lift and her toes curl in her shoes. “But it’s just Braddock, ya wee lass. I spent far too much time in the stocks to be any sort of sir.” Another boisterous, hardy laugh. “You know what, I’ve been trying a new recipe on this here brisket I’ve been smoking out back. You wait here and I’ll have ya try it out for me. Only my best of friends get to taste-test my recipes.”
The man hurried off, leaving Crispin and Ukrah to stare blankly at the spot he had just been occupying. The boy opened his mouth a few times as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out. Before they knew it, the man came back, holding a plate piled high with delicious-looking meat.
“Here you are!” he said, putting generous portions on both their plates with a slightly rusty-looking set of tongs. “You come back when you’re done and tell me how you like that n’ I’ll make sure you get lots of tasty things.”
“T-thank you,�
� Crispin sputtered while Ukrah just stared at her plate that was practically drowning in meat. “We appreciate it.”
“Ain’t nothing for family. And Eist is definitely family, so you are too. Now go on, before your food gets cold.”
Ukrah nodded emphatically, and the two of them rushed off to a table. Somehow, they managed to find an empty one, and they never really had to worry about people crowding them. It’d been a whole week, and no one had ever tried to sit with them.
“You don’t think that it’s poisoned or something, is it?” Crispin asked. “I’ve never met anyone that friendly.”
But Ukrah took a page out of Eist’s book and just shrugged. “If he’s the one who made the biscuits, I think it’s worth dying for.”
“You know, you may have a point. Besides, the day I say no to food is the day you can bury me right then and there.”
“Good to know.”
They dug in, and just as she suspected, it was absolutely delicious. The meat melted in her mouth like butter and whatever he flavored it with lingered on her tongue and the back of her throat just right. The biscuit was the perfect complement to it, and she found herself wiggling happily in her seat.
“I can’t wait until our little guy hatches so he can try all this,” Crispin blurted out.
“Our little guy?” Ukrah teased, eyebrows raised.
“Well… yeah. I mean, I know he’s your dragon, but I dunno. I feel like I’m at least helping a little, you know?”
“Yes, you’re very motherly to my egg, and I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m the egg’s mama and that’s that.”
Ukrah chuckled, shoving more food into her mouth as she thought. “Whatever you say, Crispin.”
“Yeah, that’s right, whatever I say. Because I’m definitely the one running this show and not the girl who had Governess Dille shaking in her breeches.”
Ukrah did smile at that. It was funny that Crispin thought she was running the show, because she rarely ever felt in control. There was some sort of class politics going on all around her, and she was still trying to figure out some of the basics of a properly civilized life.
Alright, if the two of you are done with your banter, perhaps you could break off one of those biscuits for me?
3
Lesson Learned
She was flying again. High in the sky and free, unattached from all the responsibilities on the ground. She still couldn’t quite make out the details of the dragon beneath her, as cloaked and as shadowed as it was, but she knew without a doubt that it was her little guy.
Except he wasn’t so little anymore. No, he was so big that his back hurt her thighs a bit with how they were stretched, and her hands were barely large enough to grasp the spines going up his neck and all the way to the crown of his head.
The ground moved below them—desert, marshes, the settled lands—but none of it mattered. They were above it all.
Her mount grumbled, slowing from its speed moving forward and instead hovering in place. Shielding her eyes from the bright sun, Ukrah scanned the horizon to see what had stopped him.
It was that same cloud of gold from her magic test. Undulating, pulsing, flickering with so much inside.
And yet…it was smaller than before, fragmented, with large parts of itself falling off and crashing to the ground.
Those spots glimmered, bright and shining and pulsing…and dangerous.
Her stomach flipped as those five flickering lights called to her in a way she couldn’t describe. That thrumming grew inside of her then, making her vision shake with its vibrations and even her heart skipped in its rhythm. She needed to…do something. She wasn’t sure what, but she felt the need to gather up all those burning bright points in her arms until they were safe.
She squeezed her knees just as she had done with Fior, and they pitched forward, sweeping down as if she could just scoop them up in her hand. But before they even made it halfway, the very earth shook, fissures forcing their way through the ground and splitting it open.
Her dragon reared up, shadows wrapping around the two of them, but Ukrah fought to see what was happening. Fire and burning, liquid stone bursting from the cracks, an apocalypse in full incendiary fury, but there was something else in the flames. Something she could barely glimpse, sliding between green and gray and purple in her peripheral vision.
But even though she could hardly see it, she could feel it, and those strange, sliding colors trickled through the chaos until they were surrounding each point of light.
And then, one by one, they swallowed up the lights. Winking them out until there was only fire left. Ukrah stared, unable to do anything. With every bit of light that faded, she felt like her heart broke.
She didn’t understand what was happening, but fear flooded her, drenching her in cold, cold ice as the last of the lights winked out. Those little greedy tendrils became much more solid, much more menacing, growing more visible as they coiled together, forming something that she didn’t want to meet.
One arm formed, then another, both pressing into the burning, molten ground as if it was going to lift itself to meet her. Ukrah allowed herself one loud scream before she threw herself from her own body.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The young woman sat up so fast that her back cracked and her shoulders twinged in response, a ragged gasp escaping her mouth. Her eyes looked about wildly, seeing only darkness and unfamiliar shapes, until her eyes landed on Crispin.
Oh, right. She was in her room at the academy. She was safe.
…but it certainly didn’t feel that way. Dread, leaden and heavy, sat in her belly. Her entire body seemed covered in a thick layer of chilling sweat and her heart was pounding so hard inside her chest that she worried about breaking a rib.
“Here, I brought you some water.”
Ukrah blinked again, looking at the glass of water he extended to her like it was going to attack her. Eventually, however, she managed to take it with a shaking hand.
“Bad dream?” he asked, leaving her side only to return with a damp cloth that he patted her face with. Where he had gotten the fabric or the cool water was beyond her, as she remembered drinking the last out of the heavy jug in the room. Surely, he hadn’t gone all the way to the well-bucket at the very end of the hall to fill it and then brought it back just for her?
“Yeah,” she answered, taking a slow sip. It felt good down her parched throat, cooling her burning insides even though her outsides were so clammy.
“You haven’t had one of those in a while.”
“How do you know that?” Their rooms were separate back at Eist’s home, and while they were across the hall from each other, the wood and stone of that manor was far too thick for him to have heard her tossing and turning.
“You talk in them in your native language. Or at least I’m assuming it’s desert talk. Not exactly a linguist myself.”
Ukrah flushed at that, embarrassed, and finished drinking her water.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Crispin asked, taking the empty cup when she was done and setting it on her nightstand. Ukrah shook her head. She was so bone tired and sore from her day of training and learning, but when she thought of just laying alone in the dark, her heart began to hammer. Funny how the darkness of real life was so different from the shifting, active shadow she saw in her visions. She liked those shadows. But the pitch around her, looming and hiding who knew what? Not so much. “Alright then. Do you want to just go to sleep?”
She sat there a long moment, unsure of what to do. She really was uncomfortable and scared at the thought of being isolated in her room. But eventually, her exhaustion won out.
“I’m really tired.”
“I don’t blame you. Alright, scoot down then.”
“What?”
Before she could really ‘scoot’ anywhere, Crispin was clambering onto the bed. He sat all the way up against the headboard, the outside of one of his thighs pressed against it while hi
s back was against the wall. His long legs made his feet hang off the edge, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Alright, come ’ere.”
Ukrah stared at him with owlish eyes. While she thought much of the ‘civilized’ traditions around the separation of the sexes was bizarre and benign, she’d never had a boy in her sleeping area since she was old enough to really notice and understand the difference between them. Surely she hadn’t given Crispin the impression that…
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, patting the bulk of his thigh, which was not much bulk. “Rest your head here and I’ll sing you a lullaby and brush your hair.”
He… What? “You don’t have a brush.”
“That’s what you think.”
He smiled and bent forward, sliding open the drawer in her nightstand to reveal a brush that she definitely hadn’t put there. “Wait, my thighs aren’t nearly as big as Elizeth, who used to do this for all us kids if we had nightmares after something happened to a parent.” He looked around a minute as if puzzled, before grabbing one of her pillows and putting it in his lap.
“There! Perfect. Now come settle down and we’ll see if we can get you to drift off nice and easy. Our little guy needs his rider to be strong and rested, right?”
Ukrah still stared at him for a few more beats before doing as he said. Shifting, she scuttled back a bit more then turned her back to him, letting herself slowly lean until her head made contact with the pillow.
There was still more shuffling and adjusting, and after a few minutes, she was laid out on the bed with her head in his lap while he gently unbraided her hair and brushed through it.
She was stiff at first, unused to this kind of affection and worried that…something terrible might happen. But the more moments that passed, the more she felt at ease, until finally her eyelids started to flutter, and she didn’t feel so anxious.
