Once Sheilah had calmed down, Fialla set up camp and fed Sheilah broth while the human girl returned from the brink of death.
Fialla let her rest while she tried to face the implications of what Sheilah had done, what she was capable of doing... and what she was incapable of doing.
Sheilah held a power that could reshape the Redstone. A new river flowed in the Valley. People would be intensely greedy for it. The Forest Spider would benefit, but at least the river was started on Dragon Clan territory. Water was a hotly contested resource in the Redstone, and so the power dynamic was about to change.
Fialla didn’t think there was a way to control the power of Calamity. A dragon didn’t want to control its power, reduce it. Everything they did was with full power, full strength, full rage, all the time. There was no hesitation. The only thing they could do is choose when to use it.
That meant that Sheilah was effectively useless when it came to using Calamity. If she used it at the wrong time, without someone there to immediately help her, she would die.
Fialla once more fed Sheilah over the next few days until she was up and walking again, and then they continued onward towards home. Sheilah was shocked and disappointed at what she’d done.
“I thought for sure that I could control it.” Sheilah complained.
“Maybe you can when you’re older?” Fialla offered.
Sheilah snorted. “You know that as you grow, it grows. I’ll be stuck like this until I die.”
“I ... don’t think you should ever use it again.” Fialla offered. “People will want you to, you know. They’ll want changes made. More wells dug. They’ll want you to try and make more rivers.”
Sheilah sighed despondently, and lifted her lip. “I lost some teeth this time, too.”
At least there would be no contests for her marriage outside the Clan. Since she was part of the Dragon Clan, the only people she could wed to were the Dragons. Giving up the Dragon for any other totem would kill her, especially considering she’d taken in the flesh and blood of a Tyrant Dragon, the largest and most powerful dragon discovered so far.
That solved the problem of marrying into another Clan in a nice tidy fashion, but it might threaten her father’s leadership.
She was nearly fourteen, but even she knew that Clan politics were complicated in the Redstone.
When she returned to the Dragon Terrace with Fialla, dragging a giant handcart with her that was loaded with foodstuffs, cloth, and other things, there was a small uproar. When they saw the dragon bones and teeth, they were stunned and wondering.
Davian took her inside their tent as soon as he was able, and with an arched eyebrow he sat her down, sat down across from her, and opened the conversation with five words.
“Tell me everything that happened.”
She began with meeting up with Fialla, their careful avoidance of the Hive Lizards, the fight with the Blood Tree, the purge of the giants in the box canyon.
She talked about meeting with the others and their discussion on helping each other, but he waved his hand dismissively at that.
“Everyone says that, every year. Every year a Dragon is there to give them a withering look, and that’s usually enough to shut them down.” he replied simply.
She explained about the giant’s city, which made his eyes widen in surprise; he was further surprised with how they handled it.
“You could have come home and we would have dealt with it for you.” He offered sympathetically. “There would have been no shame in that at all. Still, I’m proud of you for the decision you made. It was a good one.” He gestured for her to continue.
Her description of Fialla leaping off the cliff to spear a dragon brought a laugh from him. “That one’s got courage. How many horns did it have?”
“Only one.” She replied, and then described the fight with her dragon.
“Tyrant Dragons. Nobody thinks they’re real. I doubt Adlan himself knew of them, and he was a collector of dragon lore. If you weren’t telling me you fought with one, I wouldn’t believe they were real either.”
She described how she’d stabbed it through the earhole with the steel dagger he’d given her, and he gave her a thoughtful look, but urged her to continue.
She drank its blood, she cut out its heart and ate it, she nearly lost herself, she took what she could from it, and then she described the return trip.
“If you need, you could have others go back and take the other teeth and-” She began, but he made a sharp motion with his hand.
“No. We are not scavengers, we are Dragons.” He stated flatly. He then added, “Oh, sure, we could harvest its bones and horns and teeth. Like I said, nobody has ever even realized that Tyrant Dragons were real. Even me. Even Adlan. The things we could craft with those resources?” He shrugged. “But we aren’t scavengers.”
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She nodded, and explained what happened on their way back.
“The giants again.” He muttered. “Your breath...” He thumbed his chin. “It seems you’ve inherited at least two gifts of the Dragon.” Davian finally said. He didn’t look happy at that announcement. “Supremacy and Calamity.”
Sheilah barked a bitter laugh. “Calamity... will nearly kill me whenever I try to use it. There’s no way to reduce its power, father. It always comes out at full force, at full power.”
She shook her head. “I’m a failure as a daughter. I’ve taken the blood and flesh of a Tyrant Dragon into me and if I use the power given to me, I will kill myself.”
“Making a new river in the Redstone. That’s going to take some fine dealings to manage at the council of Clans.” He grumbled.
His attention went away from her for a few moments, no doubt already thinking of how it would complicate things in the future, but his focus returned back to her.
“You said you’ve used Calamity only twice.” He asked.
She nodded. The cost was much too great for her to do otherwise.
“Supremacy?” He asked curiously.
“Once-” She started, thinking of the Glass Spider, but then remembering she’d used it against Fialla. “Also twice.”
His eyes narrowed a bit. “Try it on me, daughter. Let me feel the strength of your Supremacy.”
The words had scarcely left him when there was a feeling in his chest; an impact with no sound, a blast of heat that tightened the skin on his face. His chest clenched and his heart screamed as it seized. His lungs locked and he clutched at his chest as adrenaline dumped in his veins. Sparks whirled from the fireplace as the pans in the kitchen rattled.
“...please...” he wheezed, and for a moment he was certain she wouldn’t be able to control it.
The overwhelming pressure faded, his heart thundered in his chest and he wheezed, gasping as sweat broke on his face.
“...Jesus.” He muttered to himself, but Sheilah caught it anyway.
“What?” She asked curiously.
He waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing, nevermind.” He replied, and then took a long, deep breath, held it, and let it out as he calmed himself down.
“You could kill with that alone.” He muttered. “Supremacy... It’s like... bloodthirst. Killing intent. It’s the dread that radiates from a dragon when you first look into its eyes. When a mouse looks up and sees the hawk bearing down on it from the heavens, it feels the same thing.” He explained, but shook his head. “But with Dragons, it’s the absolute tyranny.” He paused. “For us, it’s...” He smiled wryly. “A touch of Supremacy at Clan meetings reminds others why the Dragon is the most respected, despite the chattering of the Thunderbirds. Even they fear the dread of the Dragon.”
He let out a testy breath. “Were you to use it like this, you would kill instead of instill fear.” He rubbed his chin. “Right. The meridians. I nearly forgot.”
He gestured towards the sleeping area of their tent. “Go lay down on your belly. Lonato did it for me, and I had to do it for Ladria and Myrin.”
She gave him a puzzled look, but got up. He stopped her. “You won’t need your dragonling armor.” He pointed out, and waited for her to change into her clothing. As she undressed, he asked, “You did bring back the dragonhide from that Totem, right?”
She shook her head. “It was much too thick, too heavy to make anything with.” He gave her a dubious look, but nodded.
He began working over her back, pressing down with almost painful force. “For the most part, the people of the Clans are as they look; they’re human.” He paused, and then added, “Or elf.” He measured with his hands, and bore down with his thumb on her back until she squirmed. “The part of us that isn’t human is- well, for us it’s dragon. We have a power that fundamentally doesn’t belong to us. It creates an imbalance within us.”
He measured again, and then pressed down again. “In the ancient times, we didn’t need to do this. The stories speak of ‘becoming the dragon’, but Adlan didn’t know the method, and the practice is taboo now.” He measured with his fingers and pressed down again. “This rebalances the flow of power in your body, makes it easier to accept it. Lonato, your great-grandfather, used to warn that if this wasn’t done, you would start to change- the power of the dragon would drive you more and more to act like a dragon.” He moved his fingers down her spine and pressed again until she was kicking her feet at the pain.
“What does ‘become a dragon’ mean?” Sheilah gasped.
“I have no idea, but I can tell you what Adlan told me: He said that by eating the heart of a dragon, we took in part of its soul. That’s the part we all stand guard over. Before his time, however, there seemed to be a method of merging with the dragonsoul within you. It changed you from what you were.” He paused. “No one knows how it’s done now, so instead, we do this.” He pressed down on her hip, right where it joined her spine, and she yelped. “You are the steward over the soul of the dragon within you. You have to keep it controlled.”
“With this-” She clenched her teeth as he dug in again- “will I be able to use my power without it killing me?” She asked.
“Nope.” He replied simply. “It won’t change the strength of the power in you.” He went on to explain. “It just helps redress the balance.”
“I don’t understand.” She complained.
He dug into the meat of her thigh and she yelped and tried to get away, but his grip was iron.
“I’ve told you everything you need to know.” He replied, and continued his work, digging for each pressure point and bearing down on it for a while, then releasing it.
“There’s a lot of things that we need to talk about- things I’ve promised that we’d talk about- but I’d ask you to be patient just a little bit longer. We have to craft your weapons. You have to tell your story.” He paused. “There’s a lot of things that are difficult for me to say, and even though I’ve promised to say them... I’d like time to figure out how to say them.” He added in a lower voice, a voice that was tired and filled with regret. “Let me be the father to a stubborn daughter just a little bit longer.” He urged.
After he was done digging his thumbs into what seemed like every painful nerve cluster in her body, it was as he’d said: The power of the dragon didn’t seem to be wholly coalesced in her chest, but seemed to thrum and buzz throughout her whole body. The dragon was there, behind her eyes and sizzling in her blood, but she no longer felt like she was wholly beholden to it. If this had been done before, she realized, she would have never had a problem with sneaking past the giants on the return trip. The dragon’s influence in her thoughts seemed to have lessened.