Dragonfly Ignited

by Aimee Moore

  Mindrik gave a laugh. “My dear girl, the university breeds nothing if not the world's best sleepers. One learns early to either sleep to the raucous sounds of laughter and explosions among the strangest discomforts imaginable, or get no sleep at all. In addition, my cloak was gifted to me from a very wealthy courtesan, it is enchanted for warmth. I will sleep better than you could ever hope to with that beast so near.”

  “Why would so many students be awake at night? Does no one sleep at the university?”

  “Different gifts thrive best in different ways. The light benders were the worst, as their gift was most easily learned in the dark. Imagine finally attaining sleep when a bright flash of blue pierces your lids. This, after having finally gotten used to the general din of university life.”

  Mindrik let off a wistful sigh. “No, I tell you I am now the world's best sleeper, and not you nor cold nor impending doom shall keep me from the sweet bliss that is dreams.” Then Mindrik gave Dal and me a slight glare. “Good night,” he said in a curt tone, wrapping himself tight in his robes and huddling against the wall.

  I looked up at Dal, whose face was fading fast in the dimming light. “I don't think he could sleep through a Kraw battle,” I said in mixed Kraw and Common.

  Dal huffed a laugh. “Let us hope that we do not find out.”

  Chapter 6

  Obligation and Desperation

  The weeks progressed on with Mindrik's teachings, and he warmed to me. Dal stayed withdrawn, except to teach me more of his language and keep me warm at night; which Mindrik found appalling. One day, a large male Kraw entered the hut empty-handed. Mindrik and I were on our knees in the center of the hut, our brains cooking with effort while our bodies froze.

  Dal came to stand in front of me, doing his job. I could understand a lot of Kraw now, thanks to Dal exclusively speaking Kraw to me, but some of the language was still patchy at times. I had a hard time with the verbs that wrapped themselves around children, as their section of the language was different.

  “Patroma wishes to know if the human flame is lit yet,” the Kraw said in his barking language.

  “She learns every day. Human gifts take years, she has not had years.”

  “Weakness is born of privilege and complacency. Strength is born of obligation and desperation,” the Kraw said.

  Dal frowned at the opposing warrior. “Time also breeds strength, and I will use mine on you without care if you force the human.” Dal raised his sword.

  The Kraw barked a laugh. “You think I fear a rotting husk of Kraw who has not seen battle in months?”

  “Come closer and know my complacency,” Dal growled.

  I backed away, not wanting to be in the middle of a skirmish. I had never compared Dal to the other Kraw before, but the large one was right, Dal was thinner. They had starved him so that he was not a threat.

  They could not take away Dal's exercises, though, and so his muscled bulk was as intimidating as any other Kraw. It all made sense now, why he used me as a weight and spent his idle time sweating. Mindrik cast me a worried glance and joined me at the edge of the hut.

  The larger Kraw laughed. “You will know more complacency soon enough, traitor.” And with that, he motioned through the door behind him, and a Kraw female sauntered in with a basket of raw meat. No water. She smiled a nasty grin at us, then they both left, slamming the door.

  Dal relaxed, turning to the basket with a frown.

  “What in the world is this?” Mindrik said.

  Dal let off a sigh. “This is obligation and desperation.”

  Mindrik scowled at Dal. “That makes no sense whatsoever. You Kraw are mad. This is a basket of raw meat. Do Kraw eat raw meat? Because humans most certainly do not.”

  Dal settled at the edge of the hut, leaning against it in his usual indifferent posture. “Kraw can adapt. Humans cannot.”

  “If you are such a traitor then why would they send the humans food they can't eat while you are free to gorge yourself on our shares?”

  “It's for me,” I said, glum. “They're trying to push me to learn my gift faster so that I can cook the meat. Obligation and desperation,” I finished on a whisper.

  Mindrik threw his head back with a dramatic sigh. “And I'm the water. Of course.” He straightened. “Kraw truly are vile beasts.”

  I flicked a gaze at Dal to see complete indifference.

  “Mindrik, we need to speed this up. I can make a small flame, not a roaring bonfire.”

  “My dear woman if I have to tutor you any more than I already do then I fear I might lose my sanity.”

  “You will lose your life if you do not,” Dal's deep voice vibrated in the room, and Mindrik and I looked up to see Dal's hostile stare aimed at Mindrik.

  “This is impossible,” I said.

  Mindrik waved away my concern. “Not impossible. Look, I'll take care of the water. Get your beast to dig a large hole in the center of the room so that we will have a pit for water.”

  “I am no one's beast, human.”

  “I believe that obligation makes you her beast for a time,” Mindrik grinned at Dal, gesturing at me. “And she needs water. Snap to it.”

  Dal gave Mindrik a bored look before resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. “You think yourself a master of intellect and water. Prove it, human.”

  Mindrik scoffed, looking around the hut as if a shovel was going to appear in the dirt. “You expect me to work miracles now, Kraw? I know you think highly of my species, but this is—"

  “Use the water to force the dirt up,” I said.

  “What?” Mindrik tilted his head at me.

  “Your water. Call it and force the dirt up, making a hole.”

  Mindrik's expression changed from hostility to appreciation. “Yes, yes that will work.” Mindrik stood with a flourish, hands moving like water, pushing and pulling, and soon a ball of water had coalesced in front of him. With more flowing gestures, Mindrik commanded the water to the dirt, calling more to the ball as the dirt absorbed it into mud.

  Dal and I watched as the water swirled in a forceful circle, banking mud on the sides of the hole that was forming. Soon there was a wide dip in the center of the hut, and Mindrik called the water back to him, making a deeper hole off to the side of the hut.

  Then he lowered his hands, forming upturned claws, and pulled up with shaking hands. Nothing happened. Mindrik shook his head and sucked in a deep breath, trying again, sweat beading on his forehead. This time, the small hole filled with water.

  I gasped. “We'll have clean water when it clears.”

  Mindrik sat down with a sigh, wiping the hem of his robe over his forehead. “I called the water from below. There's rivers of it down there, always rivers of water below us.”

  I gave half a smile. “What are we to do with the hole in the center, if not use it for water?”

  “Bonfire,” Mindrik said.

  I looked up. “Even if I could, it would catch the roof on fire.”

  “You can snuff it as surely as you can create it,” Mindrik said. “You only have to learn.”

  It sounded so simple.

  ✽✽✽

  We worked through sluggish exhaustion and food deprivation for days. On the first day, upon seeing that we would not be able to cook the food, Dal consumed the entire basket. Mindrik was furious, but I understood that Dal needed it as much as we did, and we were not going to cook it before it festered.

  Over the next week, Dal suffered minor pain while he adjusted to eating raw meat, and Mindrik and I became snappy with each other. I began to understand the plight of two horses being forced to pull a cart together when they'd rather tear each other apart.

  A Kraw female strutted into the hut with another basket of raw meat. “The humans will die of frailty. We bring them food and they will not eat it.”

  “Cannot. There is a difference,” Dal said in a bored tone.

  She sneered. “And yet you can eat your fill. Why do you allow them to grow in po
wer so that they can take your food? Are you soft on the female?” She dropped the basket with a heavy thump.

  “Are you jealous, woman?”

  The female stalked over to Dal, leaning over him. “I take whichever mates I choose, and I do not choose you.”

  “That is good, because I would not have you.”

  The Kraw female growled, straddling Dal in a rough move and grabbing a fistful of his hair.

  “By the heavens you must be joking,” Mindrik said, face pale with disgust.

  My breath hitched as jealousy lanced through me.

  The Kraw woman, using the fistful of Dal's hair like a handle, tilted his mouth toward her. He let her, a look of boredom on his face. “Maybe you have forgotten the taste of Kraw women,” she growled.

  “And you think to remind me.”

  The female thrust her breasts in Dal's face, grinding in his lap with dominating control. “No man turns me away. No man can wash the taste of me from his mouth once I have had my fill.” She drew one clawed finger down Dal's lips, drawing blood as she watched with desire.

  I was at war with what I was witnessing. I had come to think of Dal as mine, but not mine in the way that lovers possess each other. Or did I hope for it to become that? Was this what was expected between two people?

  “You would take a traitor?” Dal growled up at her.

  My heart pounded as I realized that he was taking her seriously.

  The Kraw female leaned down and bit Dal's lip, licking the blood and grinding herself in his lap in slow, rhythmic motions. “I will take whomever I choose,” she said. “And when I am done with you, you'll beg for me to come back so that you may taste me again. And I will laugh.”

  “I think not,” Dal said.

  She stilled, the heat in her eyes freezing, before warming again. A slow smile curved her lips. “I am not asking, I am taking,” she said with a rough tug on Dal's hair, reaching for his pants.

  Dal let off an impatient sigh before reaching up to grab the hand that was gripping his hair. “Get off.”

  She shoved his refusal away with confident strength, tilting his head at a painful angle, and resuming her grasping at his pants. Dal used both of his hands then, grabbing the female's wrists, and shoving her off of him to land on her rear.

  “You want it rough,” she growled, getting up to come at Dal again.

  He stood at his full height, ready for the wild woman to come at him. When she did, Dal grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her, hard. She cried out and bent over, cursing and swinging with the other arm. Dal spoke into her ear.

  “I have no taste for my captors. I have taste, least of all, for you, woman.” Dal twisted harder, and the female cried out a guttural sound. “Do not come to me again, your smell is offensive.” And with that, Dal shoved her down in the dirt.

  She sat up, shooting Dal a look of the utmost loathing. “You are a weak fool,” she hissed.

  Dal sat down in his spot, spitting blood in the dirt before resuming his bored stance. “And you are a harpy, wounded by the quill of her own pride.”

  With a vicious snarl, the Kraw female got to her feet to make her retreat. She turned and looked at me and Mindrik, both wide eyed at the odd display we had just witnessed, and she picked up a hunk of raw meat and threw it at us. We ducked behind our hands as the meat slapped against Mindrik's elbows, and she was gone, the hut vibrating with the anger of the slammed door.

  I looked over at Dal, heart fluttering in my throat. Blood was smeared over his chin, but the wound appeared to have healed already. His eyes were closed, as if he was ready for a nap.

  “What in the seven hells was that all about?” Mindrik asked with equal parts horror and disgust.

  I stood, ignoring Mindrik, and walked over to Dal. He did not acknowledge my presence, but I sat next to him anyway. Still, he did not open his eyes or say anything, even as I pressed myself into his heat, and I found myself wishing he had something to say. Questions warred through my mind. If all Kraw took, then was there any tenderness and love in the species? Was lovemaking just another battle to these people, blood and sweat being a constant in their lives? Were the moments of tenderness that Dal had shown me only pity?

  “I am sorry, Sera,” Dal said in Kraw.

  I looked up at him. “For what?” I asked in his language.

  “That you had to witness that.”

  I frowned, repeating the word witness. Dal whispered the translation to me, and I looked away with a slow nod.

  “I hate it when you two speak that awful language,” Mindrik said with a pout.

  We ignored him.

  “It was not your cause,” I said to Dal, not knowing the word for fault.

  Dal huffed half a laugh before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall again.

  “Dal.” I looked up at him.

  “Yes.” He did not move, and yet the deep rumble of his voice moved me with its openness and honesty.

  “Is that… Normal?” I couldn't bring myself to look at him, but detected no laughter from the large body I was pressed against. Time seemed to span into minutes, and I didn't think he would answer me.

  “No,” Dal said on a breath.

  Dal's hesitation halted the rest of my questions. Even though his answer had produced so many more.

  ✽✽✽

  The days crawled by, and still, I could not produce more than a flame. And still, we were hungry, staring at the basket of fresh meat that would turn rancid within the day if we did not find a way to cook it.

  “You must eat,” Dal said to me.

  “Don't you think I know that? I'm trying.”

  Dal waved an impatient hand. “Enough of this. He can cook it.”

  Both of us looked at Mindrik, who blinked up at us. “I beg to differ. I call water, that is not fire.”

  I turned questioning eyes up at Dal, who was helping himself to a smaller chunk. “I don't understand,” I said.

  “Yes, enlighten us, friend,” Mindrik said with a scowl.

  Dal let a patient sigh out of his nose, looking at Mindrik. “You can move water.”

  Mindrik gestured with his hand for Dal to go on. “And?”

  “Heat is movement.”

  Mindrik frowned. “Kraw really are barking mad.”

  I looked down at the basket, thinking about Dal's words. I pictured my hands, kneading bread dough. Soft, calming strokes. With strength. And warmth. Even on cold mornings, the movement gave the dough heat, and my body heated as well.

  Dal gave Mindrik a bored look. “How do you make fire, human?”

  “I don't know, that's her specialty, and she-”

  “Without your magic.”

  “Flint and tinder.”

  “There is a striking movement that creates heat. Motion creates heat. Put your water in motion and heat will come.” Dal looked exasperated, as if he was explaining this to a very small child.

  Mindrik glared.

  “I understand,” I said. “Like rubbing your arms on a cold day, the faster, the more heat. Create movement within the water and it will create heat, Mindrik.”

  Mindrik inflated to speak, then paused and let off a gust of air, shaking his head. “What you two are asking of me has never been done before. I am not sure I can heat water, that is outside my realm.”

  “Then don't heat it, move it fast against itself,” Dal said, retreating to his usual exercise spot. The dirt had been packed flat there from sweat. Dal began a series of movements that involved intense balance and strength.

  I turned hopeful eyes to Mindrik. “Please. Just try.”

  Mindrik watched me for a moment, setting his mouth in a firm line. With a nod, he rolled his sleeves up, and began the careful movements of his hands. In moments, a large glob of water had coalesced in front of him. Mindrik closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as he continued the elaborate motions. I glanced at Dal, who was standing on his hands, legs curled back, upper body taught, watching as well. Seconds spanned into minutes, and
I began pacing as Mindrik worked, chewing on my one clean finger nail as I thought.

  Perhaps this was not going to work after all. Perhaps he really was incapable and we would starve. Would Patroma take pity on us when we could barely move anymore, and offer nourishment?

  “Sera,” Dal whispered from his upside-down position.

  I looked up from my pacing fidget.

  “The meat,” Dal said.

  I glanced at Mindrik and sweat was beading on his temples. Even more remarkable, steam was coming off of the glob of water. I sucked in a gasp and got a large hunk of meat, carefully sliding it into the globe of water. As the steam came faster, the water changed color, and the meat did, too. Whatever the meat was, it smelled awful as it began to boil, yet somehow my mouth was watering.

  I turned a grateful look to Dal. “How did you know?”

  “Kraw have keen minds for problem solving,” Dal said, lowering himself with carefully controlled precision, then rising again.

  “Then problem-solve us out of here.”

  “That problem was solved months ago,” Dal said with a grunt as he lowered.

  “You mean to tell me you could have escaped months ago and you didn't?”

  Dal only looked at me for a moment before resuming his exercise.

  I sighed.

  “Seraphine,” Mindrik said.

  I turned to him to see him watching the cooking glob of water. “Get the beast's weapon and remove the meat.”

  Dal did not look up as I retrieved his sword and approached the steaming glob of water. The heat coming off of it was a welcome change from the arctic cold within the hut, and I skewered our meal and removed it from the water.

  “Keep the water, it will add more flavor to the next hunk,” I said to him.

  “My dear woman this is not easy,” Mindrik said.

  “Then I'll try to make it quick,” I said, bending over the basket and grabbing another slab of meat. I slid it into the glob of water suspended in air and it began to cook as well. As Mindrik concentrated, I waved at the food on the end of the sword, trying to cool it.