《Dragonblooded》


 Prologue

    All of this, and more.


    Sheilah stood on some cliff she couldn¡¯t see, some elevated position above the Terrace of the Dragon, even above the Cliffs of the Thunderbird. All the lands of the Redstone Valley, every bit of the canyons and valleys and spires and buttes and mesas stretched out before her, as far as she could see.


    All of this, and more.


    She wasn¡¯t sure where the voice came from. Part of her felt like she knew it intimately, knew it to her bones, so she simply accepted it as part of her dream, the dreams she always had since her mother had taken a single drop of dragon blood and rubbed it on her lips as an infant.


    She blinked and suddenly she was staring up at the rippling canvas ceiling, smelling the comforting smells of her home- the ghost scents of last night¡¯s dinner, the individual smells of each of her family members and the ever-present dry smell of dust- waiting for her thoughts to come back to her.


    She stretched out her arms and flexed her hands, watched her fingers curl and uncurl for a moment before she let out a breath she didn¡¯t realize she was holding, and pushed aside her bedding. She rubbed her face with her hands and discovered she was sticky with night-sweat. She grimaced and stepped out of the sleeping area she shared with her three sisters and dunked a rag into the shared bucket they used and wiped herself down.


    Sheilah looked over at her sisters, nearly the same age. Kellia and Sellia, the twins, slept side-by-side, hands clasped together between them. Caidi slept beside them, a year younger than the two. Sheilah smiled a little in triumph; she¡¯d woken up ahead of them.


    She struggled into her clothing. Whoever woke up last would have to do chores, and she wanted to get an early start on her day.


    Sheilah was thirteen, and today was her birthday.


    *****


    On the other side of the long tent was the sleeping area shared by her mothers and father. Her mother and father slept in their bed, face to face, mostly hidden under their bedrolls. It was freezing cold at night, searing during the day in the Redstone Lands. Her other mother Mayrin slept on the other side of her mother.


    It was a rare thing to wake up before everyone else in the tent. She rubbed her arms briskly and headed down the length of the tent to the central fire and prodded the coals to see if any survived the freezing night.


    She kindled a morning fire as her father mumbled something to her mother and crawled out of their shared bedroll.


    Her father, Davian, eased himself out of bed and absently scratched his face as he stared blankly out at nothing. He eventually blinked, and glanced over at Sheilah.


    He absently popped his neck, first one way, then the other, and then twisted at the waist, popping his back with a subtle, dull crackle. He was covered in scars. His back was webbed in them, his arms and legs looked as if they¡¯d been slashed over and over. What was it that could have done something so terrible to him?


    He wiped himself down with the rag, tugged on his clothes, and joined her at the fire. ¡°Up first, hmm?¡± He mumbled. She nodded as she set the kettle in the fire. She liked to think she shared a kinship with her father beyond just being a parent and child: they were the only two humans in the family. His wives were Wild Elves, and her sisters were half-elven.


    ¡°You¡¯re on water duty today.¡± He offered with a tired grin. She shot a look at her siblings, still sleeping.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s the laziest that gets the water.¡± She countered, pointing at the twins and Caidi.


    He chuckled and offered her a rare grin. ¡°So you¡¯ve learned to argue with your elders!¡± He grinned. ¡°Good. That¡¯s a sign you¡¯re learning to stand on your own.¡± He praised sardonically. ¡°Now get your sisters out of bed. I expect two buckets each from the four of you.¡± he added in a severe voice that wasn¡¯t joking.


    Sheilah frowned at him but nodded.


    He rose to a standing position and twisted back and forth again. She could hear the crackle and pop of his spine as he stretched.


    ¡°Do you know why I¡¯m sending you?¡± He asked, turning to face her.


    She shook her head without thinking about it.


    ¡°Your necklace.¡± He pointed, and she grimaced. She¡¯d taken it off before she¡¯d gone to sleep, and forgot to put it back on when she woke it up. It was a leather thong with a cluster of dragonling teeth, one for each of the years she¡¯d been alive. She was expected to collect sixteen teeth- kill sixteen dragonlings- between the age of ten and the age she was chosen to be sent north into the Ashlands.


    She was supposed to wear it all the time, but it was uncomfortable.


    ¡°It¡¯s your birthday today, so I expect to see another tooth soon!¡± He encouraged.


    ¡°How long did it take for you to fill up your necklace, father?¡± She asked.


    He gave her a wry smile, but his eyes were blank. ¡°It was different for me.¡± He replied simply, ambiguously. He gestured towards the rear of the tent. ¡°Sisters. Buckets. Water.¡±


    He headed back to the sleeping area of the tent himself, but instead of waking his daughters, he crawled into his own bed to affectionately caress the cheek of Ladria his wife and whisper something into her ear.


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    Sheilah strode to her side of the sleeping area, and kicked the feet of her sisters until they groaned and meweled in protest. It didn¡¯t take long; the rule of the Redstone was simple and unforgiving: You lived and died by your own strength.


    She headed back to the central fire, took the kettle off, poured water for tea. The tea itself was bitter and pungent, perfect for waking up quickly.


    She picked up her two buckets and stepped out of the long tent and looked out over the Dragon¡¯s Terrace.


    *****


    The air was thin and dry and arid. In the Redstone, the sun boiled at day and the land froze at night. In these magical hours of the morning, the air was cool and crisp and dry.


    She jogged towards the well as she mentally planned her day. Her father had demanded another tooth, but she¡¯d heard last night that in the territories of the Clan of the Mountain Cat a dragonling had been spotted. If she was lucky, that dragonling would be hers by sunset.


    *****


    Sheilah got a fair amount of ribbing from Doel, the man who watched over the well.


    Wells were important, they supplied a clan with a necessary resource without having to go all the way to the lake, and it fell to him to watch over it.


    ¡°So the little Sheilah was a sleepyhead, hmm?¡± He offered with a smirk.


    ¡°I was the first up.¡± She retorted, and her sisters behind her gave her a sour look. ¡°I have to get chores done early so I can hunt.¡±


    He sobered up quickly at that, and nodded. ¡°I¡¯d heard there was a dragonling about.¡± He agreed. ¡°Down near the southwest forest?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I hope.¡± She replied as he filled her buckets. ¡°There¡¯s also gnoll sign there, too.¡±


    He made a disgusted face. ¡°Gnolls. Never have been quite able to stamp them out. You do your best, hear?¡±


    She nodded dutifully.


    As she received the second bucket, Fialla arrived, sweating and struggling to catch her breath. He gave her a sidelong look. ¡°This one looks to have overslept, too.¡± He offered.


    Fialla was like the rest of the half-elves, with brown skin, pointed ears and silvery eyes.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t oversleep!¡± She protested weakly. ¡°I was waiting for Sheilah.¡±


    Sheilah traded a glance with Doel, who nodded knowingly.


    The girl panted with effort as she passed her empty buckets to Doel. The half-elven girl looked to Sheilah. ¡°You¡¯re going after the dragonling, right? My father asked yours if it was okay for me to come along since there was gnoll-sign there.¡±


    A tribe was a double-dozen families, and each tribe made up a clan. News got around.


    Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°I have a new-made bow. I can keep watch for those man-eaters while you go after the dragonling.¡± Fialla offered.


    Ever since she could remember, Fialla had stuck to Sheilah wherever she went, like a shadow. Fialla could be annoying at times, but the two of them were good friends.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re buying up favors so you can have me watch over you when you hunt yours.¡± Sheilah offered knowingly, and the slightly smaller girl hung her head. ¡°I don¡¯t mind. I do need help.¡± Sheilah added.


    Fialla smiled at her warmly.


    ¡°Thank you, Sheilah.¡± She acknowledged, picking up her buckets. ¡°I¡¯ll be ready to go in about an hour. You?¡±


    Sheilah thought about her morning chores and nodded. ¡°About that long, yeah.¡±


    Another girl joined them, and all the other girls there turned away. Atta was antagonistic and rude; she didn¡¯t get along with the other girls at all.


    ¡°I suppose your father has a new dragonling all lined up for you, huh Princess?¡± Atta snarled. Like Sheilah and Noel, she was human.


    ¡°Everyone hunts equally.¡± Sheilah replied, but that seemed to agitate Atta even more.


    ¡°Everyone except the Princesses,¡± She snarled. ¡°Everyone knows that Davian plays favorites with his daughters. It¡¯ll be the Great Dragon¡¯s own luck if anyone else gets a chance.¡±


    She passed her battered buckets to Noel with a clatter.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stand you.¡± Atta snarled. ¡°All this favoritism makes me want to puke.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to puke, make sure you do it in the gardens.¡± Fialla snapped back. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to listen to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, a touching word from the Princesses¡¯ Shadow. How lucky must I be?¡± Atta spat.


    Sheilah waited for Kellia and Sellia to get their buckets filled, and began the trek back to their tents.


    They collected their buckets, Fialla following behind, since her own family¡¯s tent was nearby.


    ¡°That girl probably slept on a cactus.¡± Kellia muttered.


    ¡°That girl probably slept on a cactus every day her whole life.¡± Sellia returned.


    ¡°It¡¯s not nice to say things like that.¡± Caidi urged, and like that, they changed the subject to something else.


    *****


    The Redstone was a mess of maze-like twisting canyons, buttes, and cliffs that stretched for miles in every direction; the stone of the desert lands as red as their namesake suggested. There was a single river that fed into a lake, but aside from that, the lands were mostly barren and devoid of vegetation.


    While there were places in the Redstone with cool shade, trees, and even grass, those of the Clan of the Dragon disdained them, preferring the even more dry and desolate cliffs that made up the Terrace of the Dragon, a series of stepped ledges high up against the cliff walls of the Redstone.


    ¡°If you woke up before anyone else, you should have woken us up before father woke up!¡± Kellia hissed at Sheilah as they made the trek back to their tent.


    ¡°You live and die by your own strength.¡± Sheilah replied blandly. ¡°Besides, he woke up right after I did.¡±


    Kellia made a bitter face, but glanced at Sellia and Caidi. ¡°There¡¯s gnolls down in the Mountain Cat territory?¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°So I heard.¡±


    ¡°We should go, too.¡± Kellia urged. Sellia added her voice, and after a moment, Caidi did too.


    ¡°You know that I¡¯m there to hunt a dragonling, right?¡± Sheilah replied drily.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one that needs teeth, you know.¡± Caidi argued, her sweet voice still showing her youth. She was barely eleven years old and uncharacteristically meek compared to the other clan members.


    ¡°So you want to come along, then?¡± Sheilah asked. They all nodded.


    ¡°Whoever gets the Dragonling first gets rights of course, but Gnolls are dangerous.¡± Caidi argued. ¡°With all of us, we should be able to put them down.¡±


    Sheilah smiled at that. ¡°I don¡¯t mind killing them, but it¡¯s Mountain Cat territory. Rightfully, it should be their job to deal with them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we¡¯re Dragons.¡± Caidi insisted as if that settled the matter, and in a way, it did.

 Chapter 1

    Breakfast was fried eggs, potatoes, and bacon, harvested from the boars that roamed wild in the area. Flatbread was used as both a bowl and a scoop to eat with.


    ¡°Your plans?¡± Davian asked, as everyone settled down to eat.


    ¡°Dragonling in Mountain Cat territory.¡± Sheilah replied immediately.


    He nodded, a faint smile on his face. ¡°Your sisters look like they¡¯re itching to go, too.¡±


    Sheilah rolled her eyes. ¡°And hunt gnolls, too. As if it was our problem.¡±


    He frowned at her. ¡°Gnolls are everyone¡¯s problem, Sheilah.¡± he corrected. ¡°A Dragon defends its territory. Take your sisters. Fialla too.¡± Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°Father, Mountain Cat territory is not Dragon territory-¡± Caidi began uncertainly, but Davian moved his hand in a cutting-off gesture.


    ¡°How far does a dragon¡¯s territory reach?¡± He asked her, focusing his attention on the young girl.


    She flinched back a little, but responded immediately. ¡°A dragon¡¯s territory...¡± She trailed off. She wasn¡¯t old enough to have received the lessons on the adult dragons that their clan hunted.


    He gave her a little smile. ¡°I¡¯ll teach you a little bit about dragons: A dragon¡¯s territory is whatever exists beneath its gaze, wherever it happens to be.¡± He explained.


    He pointed, and even though they were inside, it was apparent that he was pointing in the direction of the Mountain Cat territory. ¡°Can you see the Mountain Cat territory from the Dragon¡¯s Terrace?¡± He asked, and Caidi gulped and nodded.


    ¡°Then there isn¡¯t a problem, is there?¡± He asked curiously.


    He turned to Sheilah. ¡°The Dragonling?¡± He asked, but she knew the real question behind it.


    ¡°I¡¯d like your sword, father.¡± She replied.


    A feather-light smile touched his lips. ¡°My sword? Are you sure? It would probably go easier with your great-grandfather Lonato¡¯s spear.¡±


    Sheilah pressed her lips together. He was right, it would go a lot easier. A dragonling could be as small as a very large wolf and as large as a horse. A spear was a very reasonable weapon to hunt a Dragonling with. A sword was just reckless.


    ¡°I want to try.¡± Sheilah replied stubbornly.


    He snorted, but left it at that. There was no need for explanations or justifications, so there was nothing more to say on the matter. If Sheilah had decided to try hunting a dragonling with a sword, then that was her choice.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have my bow with me as well. Fialla got one of hers with a bow, after all.¡± Sheilah added.


    Davian rolled his eyes at this, but got up and went to the chest of weapons that was the centerpoint of every household of every clan.


    *****


    Each weapon had a history that came with it, each carried a name. There was Adlan¡¯s sword, her great-great-grandfather. He was legendary in the clan. Adlan¡¯s son Lonato had crafted himself a spear. Davian had crafted himself a sword.


    Each weapon was carved from the tooth of a fully grown dragon, and hafted in dragonbone. When it came time for Sheilah to head to the Ashlands, she would return with her own dragon-tooth weapon which would carry her own history, her own tales and stories.


    Each family of each tribe had a rich and storied history of legends and tales that were spoken lovingly over each weapon, imbuing them with iconic value. Each of them was a piece of living history.


    He passed the sword to Sheilah, who tied it to her waist.


    ¡°You?¡± He asked, eyeing Kellia, Sellia, and Caidi.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to hunt Gnolls!¡± Kellia replied. ¡°We¡¯ll take our bows.¡±


    He gave them a wry look. ¡°And if you come across the dragonling first? What will you do?¡±


    They frowned at him and each other.


    ¡°We¡¯re going with Sheilah, but this is her hunt.¡± Caidi piped up. ¡°We¡¯re hunting gnolls, father.¡±


    Davian nodded thoughtfully. ¡°The gnolls are savage beasts, but don¡¯t underestimate them. They¡¯re crafty.¡± He warned.


    Sheilah nodded, and that was the entirety of their conversation.


    Her mother laid a hand on Davian¡¯s arm, as if to prompt him. He gave her a sour look, but sighed and swung his head back to the girls, picking out Kellia, Sellia, and Caidi. He picked up and chewed on a piece of bacon as he thought.


    ¡°You¡¯re all the same age, and you might think that you don¡¯t need help with the gnolls,¡± He leaned forward and locked his eyes with them, ¡°But don¡¯t underestimate them.¡±


    They nodded again. The division of roles was obvious. Sheilah was going into the Mountain Cat territory with the expectation that she¡¯d hunt a dragonling. The rest of them were going there to hunt gnolls.


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    There were no guarantees that things would happen as planned; Kellia, Sellia, Fialla or even Caidi might chance upon the dragonling- and if that were the case, so be it- but the twins and their younger sister were leaving the tent in anticipation of hunting the gnolls.


    ¡°There are sightings of other Dragonlings in other territories, but if you¡¯ve made the choice to hunt in the lands of the Mountain Cat, then that¡¯s your choice.¡± Davian added.


    ¡°Can you tell Atta where one of those sightings are, Father?¡± Caidi asked. ¡°I think... I think she¡¯d like that.¡± She finished.


    Davian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Their family is...¡± He began, and frowned.


    Nobody liked their family. They only did the barest minimum to get by, and they complained loudly about having to do it all the while. They did not tend their home as well as they should, and their tent was haphazardly patched.


    ¡°Please, Father?¡± Caidi asked again.


    Davian grimaced at that. The standing rule of all the Clans of the Redstone was ¡°You live and die by your own strength¡±. There was no reason to help Atta¡¯s family.


    Caidi was different from the other Dragons, though.


    He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll tell her.¡± Caidi smiled and threw her arms around Davian¡¯s neck and gave him an exuberant hug, which he returned awkwardly.


    Sheilah mentally prepared herself for the fight with the dragonling. She¡¯d started killing them by herself several years ago, and they were fierce, unpredictable, and terrifying. Fighting one alone was considered lunacy by the other Clans who worshiped different Totems, but that only solidified what the Dragons stood for.


    Sheilah¡¯s sisters and Fialla were just to help her with the gnolls. In a hunt with a dragonling, you lived and died by your own strength.


    *****


    The forest in the territory of the Mountain Cat was really just a small stand of trees that ran between a thin stream and some of the high redstone cliffs that made up the Redstone Valley. The ground was softer, richer than where her clan made their home. This area was under the control of the Clan of the Mountain Cat, but where dragonlings were involved, the Clan of the Dragon had permission to go wherever it was necessary to hunt their favored prey, their Totem.


    ¡°It¡¯s a wonder that the Mountain Cats hadn¡¯t hunted the gnolls already.¡± Sheilah complained to Fialla, who nodded.


    ¡°Maybe the dragonling kept them away?¡± Fialla hazarded.


    Sheilah shrugged. ¡°It still makes it a mess.¡±


    Her three sisters trailed behind them, bows strung. A group of five girls, barely into their teens, charged to kill a pack of hyena-men, and one of them was supposed to hunt a donkey-sized dragon by herself.


    ¡°This hardly looks like the Redstone, even.¡± Fialla muttered, and Sheilah nodded. The Redstone was a twisting maze of cliffs and narrow canyons that were harsh and forbidding and difficult to live in. This place was lush, comparatively.


    ¡°Hatchling sign.¡± Caidi called out, pointing to one of the trees. Sheilah eyed the scratches and nodded.


    Actual dragons lived in the Ashen Wastes to the north, a place that some called the Deathlands, or the Ashlands, or any other number of names. According to clan mythos, it was a place of volcanoes and monsters.


    Dragons laid their eggs in clutches wherever they could find places to do so, and eventually the hatchlings migrated south through the passes into the Redstone where they were hunted by the children of the Clan of the Dragon. If they lived long enough to grow bigger, they were considered dragonlings, and the older children hunted them.


    In order to prove themselves adults, they eventually had to travel into the Ashlands and slay an adult dragon themselves.


    ¡°Caidi.¡± Sheilah called, and the girls came to a halt. She pulled out her waterskin and gestured at the river. ¡°Fill the skins. Might as well enjoy some of their water while we¡¯re here.¡±


    Caidi let out a childish giggle, collected everyone¡¯s waterskins, and waded into the shallows to fill them.


    Fialla came up to Sheilah¡¯s side. ¡°You¡¯re using a sword for your dragonling?¡± She asked, eyeing the blade on Sheilah¡¯s hip dubiously.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to try.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°You¡¯re a madwoman, you know.¡± Fialla disputed.


    ¡°You¡¯re just as mad, you know. What were you thinking, taking on a dragonling with a bow? You know their scales are strong enough to ignore them.¡± Sheilah replied, eyes scanning through the trees.


    ¡°Not if you know where to shoot.¡± Fialla replied, a touch defensively. She tapped the spot between her jawline and neck. ¡°There are spots that are soft enough that an arrow can kill.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a skeptical look, and then glanced back at Caidi, who was returning from the river.


    ¡°For now, help me keep an eye out for sign? It¡¯s hard to see anything in this...¡± She gestured around her, indicating the trees, shrubs, and ground cover.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Sure.¡±


    Caidi handed out the skins, and they moved deeper into the dappled stand of trees together.


    A groan came from some nearby bushes; Sheilah mentally cursed as she nocked an arrow as her sisters did the same.


    She glanced down at the ground; how had she missed all the blood soaked into the dirt and splashed on the leaves of the plants? She kicked herself for not being as alert as she should have been. She tested the draw on her bow and approached the bushes.


    A human lay in the bushes wearing metal armor, something that wasn¡¯t done in the Redstone. On the metal armor covering his chest was a device, a symbol, a white castle on a blue shield with golden lightning above. The man¡¯s face was flushed with fever, and his right hand was gone.


    He opened his eyes as they looked down at him curiously, and Sheilah flinched back; it was like he wasn¡¯t even looking at her.


    She edged her foot forward to prod his leg as she¡¯d done to her sisters a few hours earlier; but his legs ended at the knee with some grisly, tattered strips of flesh remaining. She grimaced at the ragged, shredded metal that looked as though it had been chewed along with his legs.


    ¡°You won¡¯t-¡± He spat, fumbling weakly at his belt with his left hand.


    His vision cleared, and it seemed as if he saw them for the first time.


    ¡°Tribes...men?¡± He asked, a puzzled expression on his face. Sheilah nodded wordlessly, ignoring the fact that they were in fact girls.


    ¡°Is... are my legs... are they still there?¡± He asked in a frightened voice. ¡°They didn¡¯t... they didn¡¯t eat them, did they?¡±


    ¡°They?¡± she asked, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°Those... cackling... bastards!¡± he finished, and then passed out.


    Sheilah took a step backwards, feeling her group backing up behind her.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t the gnolls take him?¡± Fialla asked in a very small, trembling voice.


    She got her answer a moment later as a hyena-like cackle echoed across the field.


    He was bait.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°Ambush!¡± Caidi screamed and took several stumbling steps backward, drawing her bow taut.


    Sheilah and the others hastily scrambled backward as three of the disgusting creatures rose up, black eyes glittering, bloody muzzles wrinkled back from brutal teeth in horrific snarls.


    Sheilah distractedly wondered how they¡¯d missed the smell; they reeked of rotting flesh and something savage, a beastly, primal stench that hung in the air. Flies buzzed around them in a cloud.


    Sellia loosed first; the feathered shaft punching through the beast¡¯s throat.


    Sheilah loosed her arrow even as terror wrapped her in a warm, cozy fog of shock. She was a child of the tribes, was used to hunting and killing, was used to using her bow for both, but the gnolls were grotesque, primal, savage, monstrous things that were filled with a baleful and hateful intelligence.


    She had a second arrow nocked, but she hadn¡¯t even noticed the first going down, nor the two with it dropping as well.


    She took a stumbling step backwards and nearly fell on her ass as she stumbled.


    Three of the hideous gnolls down, and she¡¯d only managed to fire once. The gnolls were pincushioned with arrows.


    Fialla shouldered her bow and pulled out her hatchet with casual, businesslike efficiency.


    Sheilah nodded, slowly realizing what needed to be done.


    Kill a gnoll; take its head.


    The rest-


    Sheilah cleared her throat. ¡°Fialla, do it. Everyone else, fan out and watch for others. That couldn¡¯t have been all of them.¡±


    Fialla went to work, and even though Sheilah was supposed to be watching for other gnolls, she couldn¡¯t help but watch with disgusted, horrid fascination as the black blood splashed and flew as Fialla bent to her task. She turned away as much to regain her focus as to watch their backs, bow half drawn.


    She faced the river; it wasn¡¯t likely that they¡¯d come from that direction but she probled the grasses and plants at the water¡¯s edge intently.


    ¡°Done.¡± Fallia called out, and the girls tightened their formation as Fallia rejoined them. ¡°Good shot.¡± She murmured to Sheilah.


    ¡°How many arrows do we have left?¡± She managed to keep her voice firm.


    Each girl called out; they had a little more than thirty arrows between the five of them. There wasn¡¯t a soul in the Redstone that would willingly reuse an arrow harvested from a gnoll¡¯s corpse.


    Thirty arrows. If the gnolls had made a nest it wouldn¡¯t be enough to wipe the gnolls out. An ambush implied there were more of them, but there was no obvious sign of them.


    ¡°Tracks?¡± Sheilah called.


    Sellia stepped away from the cluster and scouted the ground.


    ¡°Plenty, but no idea of their numbers.¡±


    Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Sheilah¡¯s attention, she whirled, bow coming up, arrow fletchings on her cheek. She loosed without thinking, without even seeing her target.


    A dragon hatchling was pinned to a nearby tree trunk, her arrow catching it right behind the head.


    Fialla let out a low whistle of admiration as Sheilah approached her kill, drawing her sword.


    Her sword was handed to her by her father, a blade made from a shard of the tooth of a dragon, the grip dragon bone, bound in strips of tanned dragonhide.


    Dragon teeth were harder and stronger than steel and kept their edge forever.


    The sword belonged to her great-great-grandfather, one of the last true tribesmen that kept to the traditions even as the men from Stormheim tried to take them away.


    Her movements were practiced and sure as she cut the neck away from the head, still pinned to the tree by her arrow. She raised the body of the dragonling to her mouth and began to drink.


    Each clan had a totem animal. Theirs was the Dragon; it was their responsibility to hunt hatchlings and dragon pups. Not just as trials, not just as tests of skill and courage, but also as a ritual. By drinking their blood and eating their flesh, they grew closer to their Totem and gained its strength and power.


    The blood was hot, scalding her throat as she drank, fingers digging into the hatchling¡¯s body in practiced movements, squeezing and draining the blood from it as she drank. Her mind went hazy and a vision of the riverbank and copse of trees boiling with flames raced across her vision.


    She didn¡¯t remember dropping the sword. She didn¡¯t remember falling to her knees, either. A trickle of dragon¡¯s blood ran down her cheek, she wiped it away with a practiced thumb and stuck the thumb in her mouth as she dreamily let the body of the dragonling fall to the ground.


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    She took a breath that hurt her ragged throat as the world steadied around her.


    She blinked as she came back to herself. Dragon blood, even the few swallows a dragonling provided, was a powerful intoxicant. The rush caused her heart to race, her head to spin, and occasionally brought visions like the one she¡¯d seen.


    She picked up her great-great-grandfather¡¯s sword, and using the edge, cut open the cat-sized lizard with practiced ease, something she¡¯d done since she was at least four years old. She plucked the heart out of the things¡¯ chest and popped it into her mouth, disliking the feeling of eating the raw, tough flesh.


    How many had she eaten? There was no way to know. Dragon hatchlings weren¡¯t particularly smart. A child of four could lay a net on the ground and a hatchling would tangle itself up in it, and a well-placed blow from a rock would crush its head.


    Kill the hatchlings, drink their blood. When you were old and strong enough to use a bow or spear reliably, it was time to hunt the much larger and much smarter dragonlings. One for each year of your life, all the way up until you were at least fourteen. When you were old enough you took your families¡¯ dragon-tooth weapons and you headed into the Ashlands to kill your own dragon and bring back bones and teeth to craft your own.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t wait for your dragonling; you had to go for a hatchling as well?¡± Sellia complained.


    Sheilah shrugged weakly as she wiped the blade clean and rose to her feet. Suddenly she felt energized and alert.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t get a couple more of those... beasts.¡± she finished with a grimace, gesturing at the gnoll corpses. She carefully tugged her arrow free of the tree, letting the whelpling¡¯s head fall.


    ¡°...The man?¡± Caidi asked hesitantly. She was somewhat meek and timid in the face of her three older sisters.


    ¡°Caidi, how fast can you run back to camp?¡± Sheilah asked, biting her thumbnail. Ever since she¡¯d started drinking dragonling blood her nails had turned a hard and glossy black, the same as every other Dragon.


    ¡°I¡¯m fast, I think.¡±


    ¡°Can you run and tell someone- anyone- about him, grab another quiver of arrows, and run back in...¡± She consulted the sun, ¡°half an hour?¡±


    Caidi smiled, a lovely, shy smile she only showed rarely. ¡°I can do it in fifteen.¡±


    ¡°Then what are you standing around for?¡± Sheilah asked with a smile.


    Caidi dropped her bow and quiver and bolted back the way they came, her legs flashing as she ran as fast as she could.


    ¡°Kellia, can you find us a trail to follow?¡± Sheilah asked.


    Kellia nodded and began poking and prodding at the gnoll tracks.


    ¡°The rest of us will cover Kellia. Divide up Caidi¡¯s arrows.¡±


    ¡°Wait. What will she use when she comes back?¡± Sellia asked.


    ¡°I did tell her to bring back an extra quiver of arrows.¡± Sheilah reminded her half-elven sibling, who nodded.


    *****


    ¡°...found it!¡± Kellia exclaimed. ¡°We¡¯ve got a trail to follow!¡±


    Sheilah nodded, her head beginning to buzz from the dragonling¡¯s blood.


    ¡°It¡¯s ... difficult to hunt in this forest.¡± Sheilah complained. ¡°I¡¯m not used to it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think any of us are.¡± Sellia replied. ¡°Those gnolls were on top of us without us noticing.¡±


    ¡°The Clan of the Mountain Cat really should be doing this.¡± Fialla complained.


    The other girls nodded. Dragonling or no, gnolls needed to be stomped out, and this was Mountain Cat territory. The Dragon Clan¡¯s territory was much higher up in the cliffs with uninterrupted vistas that stretched for miles.


    Sheilah pointed out something. ¡°Think I spotted something...¡± She called out. The girls hunkered down in a small circle immediately.


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°Was it just one?¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°I just spotted movement.¡± She pointed to a jumble of redstone boulders. ¡°I think we should take the high ground once Caidi comes back.¡±


    The whole of the territories of the Clansmen were the redstone cliffs and canyons. Climbing the sides would be no problem, especially for the Dragons.


    Caidi eventually returned with a quiver of arrows. She¡¯d picked up her bow and followed their trail.


    ¡°Well?¡± Sellia asked.


    ¡°Well, what?¡± Caidi asked, blinking.


    Sheilah rolled her eyes at this as she continued to try and see movement, sign, anything.


    ¡°What about the man?¡±


    ¡°Duren said it¡¯s a man from Stormheim.¡± She reported.


    All the girls immediately frowned at this.


    Years before they were born, the men of Stormheim tried to ¡°civilize¡± the Tribesmen of the Redstone Cliffs. There were all sorts of dark and depressing stories of that time. Even Davian, Sheilah¡¯s own father had been sold as a slave to one of the princes of Stormheim.


    He himself wouldn¡¯t speak of it to anyone, except maybe to Ladria, their mother. If pressed, his face would tighten and he would simply reply ¡°It was a dark time for everyone.¡±


    Even if Sheilah¡¯s father wouldn¡¯t talk about it, there were plenty of stories from everyone else. Fialla¡¯s father, for example, said that Davian killed the Stormheim prince, liberated the Wild Elves, and brought them to the Redstone Cliffs. He dueled the King of Stormheim personally for freedom from Stormheim''s oppression and won.


    It took years for the Wild Elves to be accepted as Tribesmen, but the elves and the men of the clans worked together and brought peace to the Redstone lands.


    Sheilah¡¯s father was a hard man. Strong and proud, he refused to bend his neck to the other Clan Leaders, but that was because he was a Dragon, and the Dragon bent their necks to nobody. But a liberator? A hero? She couldn¡¯t see him pulling off half of the stories that Fialla¡¯s father claimed. One person could not possibly accomplish as much as Fialla¡¯s father claimed.


    Sheilah inched over to Caidi and pointed up to the cliffs. ¡°We¡¯re headed up there.¡±


    Caidi adopted a contemplative look.


    ¡°We take that hill, and then it looks like there should be a way up the cliff from there.¡± She agreed.


    The other girls eyed the low hill, and then the cliffs, and nodded. It seemed like the best bet.


    They started to rise as a group, but hunched back down as the echoing cackle of the hyena-men floated towards them.


    Sheilah peeked up from the grasses they hunkered down in and saw two of the hated creatures carrying fire-hardened spears.


    They can use weapons?

 Chapter 3

    Sheilah stood up, arrow already nocked, and let fly. The other girls stood up too, but she didn¡¯t spare a glance to them, just drew another arrow from her quiver and let a second shaft loose.


    Both arrows stuck true, one sinking deeply in the monster¡¯s throat, the other punching through the open mouth and out the back of the neck. The gnoll staggered and fell with a gurgle, the other took at least four shots to the head from the other girls before crumpling to the forest floor.


    Sheilah ducked back down and eyed her friends. ¡°Mind your arrows... unless you like the idea of retrieving them.¡± she scolded.


    They all grimaced. Nobody wanted to get their arrows back once used on a gnoll. Their blood was foul and diseased, besides.


    ¡°They¡¯ve gotten ahead of us.¡± Kellia pointed out to another hill that wedged itself against the high redstone cliffs where campfire smoke could be seen- along with several gnolls.


    Sheilah grit her teeth at having not even bothering to check the other hills. She felt like she¡¯d failed as a proper hunter, and mentally kicked herself as a small wave of gnolls giggled their horsey-hyena laughter and ran down that hill towards them.


    She stood again, drawing her bow, feeling her heart pound in her chest, feeling as if she was one with the bow, one with the arrow, one with the ground beneath her feet.


    There was a sense of impatience as adrenaline surged in her, she let the arrow fly, drawing a second, trying to pick her target as they bobbed and weaved, chuckling.


    They wore some sort of hide armor on their bodies with crude symbols painted on their chests, tufted feathers at their shoulders.


    They wore armor and carried weapons. They posted lookouts on high ground.


    They weren¡¯t just beasts.


    Her sisters let fly as she did, their arrows punching through the crude leather.


    ¡°With single targets, you can afford the luxury of taking your time and going for the head.¡± Her father had instructed at some point during one of their rare hunts together. ¡°When there are many targets, go for the body.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t sure how many there were. She¡¯d loosed five arrows and then stepped back, dropping her bow and pulling her great-great-grandfather¡¯s sword.


    Her sisters fumbled for knives and hatchets as two of the survivors stumbled towards them, chortling even as black blood bubbled from their muzzles.


    Sheilah lunged for the one closest to Fialla, ramming her blade into the beastman¡¯s throat. Black ichor splashed her hands, she savagely yanked her blade free with a ragged twist, and spun as Caidi let out a terrified shriek as the other bore her under with its weight, growling and snapping.


    Sheilah leapt atop the thing¡¯s back even as she reversed her grip on the dragonbone blade, savagely stabbing the thing over and over again as her arms were splashed with the black blood of the monster.


    Fialla hacked at the thing¡¯s neck with brutal strokes, over and over again.


    Suddenly, the thing shuddered and went still, though Sheilah didn¡¯t seem to get the message, she kept plunging her sword into the thing, over and over again.


    Sellia and Kellia slammed their bodies against the massive carrion-eater to free their sister Caidi underneath.


    ¡°Sheilah!¡± Fialla screamed. ¡°Help us!¡±


    Sheilah looked up suddenly, blinking as she came back to herself.


    She scrambled off the back of the thing and lent her strength to budging the thing that pinned her sister underneath with its own weight.


    Caidi was a year younger than the other girls. She was only eleven. She shouldn¡¯t have come on the gnoll hunt. She should have spent her time back at camp honing her skills and planning her next dragonling hunt.


    These thoughts raced through Sheilah¡¯s head as they heaved the giant corpse off of Caidi, who gasped and spat and shuddered. Her leather clothing was shredded and she was bloodied.


    ¡°Get her out from there.¡± Sheilah muttered dumbly, dropping her sword and grabbing Caidi.


    They hauled the smaller girl away from the gnoll and Caidi cried out as her ankle twisted.


    They half-carried, half-dragged the little girl back to the edge of the path that led back to the Dragon Terrace when Sheilah suddenly jerked her head up in realization.


    ¡°My knife. My great-grandfather¡¯s knife.¡±


    Fialla patted Sheilah on the shoulder and proffered it to her. ¡°I picked it up for you.¡±


    Sheilah let out a shuddering breath. ¡°Thank you so much, Fialla. I owe you so much; it¡¯s my great-grandfather¡¯s knife, it¡¯s his knife, it¡¯s-¡± She babbled.


    ¡°It¡¯s important.¡± Fialla finished for her. ¡°Your little sister is important, too. Let¡¯s get her back to camp.¡±


    Sheilah blinked, nodded, and forced her body into action.


    When each of them had hunted their own dragon, then they would gain the protection of their totem, but they were too young, Caidi was too young, she had clawed by one of the gnolls, her wounds needed to be washed and treated with herbs. Gnolls carried diseases in their bodies, in their claws, their teeth, their blood.


    They washed Caidi in the river and she cried, her body already flush with fever, and then carried her back to camp, Caidi¡¯s body burning hot against Sheilah¡¯s back.


    They made it back to camp, and Davian immediately scooped her up and took her inside the tent. Caidi was already delirious with fever, screaming and crying out.


    Her mothers told her and her sisters to wait outside, and then ducked inside to help her even as Davian rushed from the tent and moved from tent to tent, calling out names of people she thought she remembered. She was exhausted and drained, her head was stuffed with clouds packed with the numbness of shock.


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    People she knew, people she didn¡¯t know, people she¡¯d seen but never met, complete strangers filed into the tent, carrying strange implements, books, spooled parchments. She sat outside the tent, staring off into nothing. She was filled with a strange, panicky lethargy that numbed her even as it caused her heart to pound in her chest.


    Over and over and over again, she could hear Caidi¡¯s crying, occasionally rising to a scream. Every time she tried to go in, to see to her little sister, she was gently but firmly pushed back out by her mothers.


    Her mothers.


    Wasn¡¯t it strange to have two mothers? More, her two mothers were elven. Shouldn¡¯t she be half-elven as well? Why hadn¡¯t she considered the question before? Why was she the only human in her family besides her father?


    The amount of foot traffic increased as the sunlight decreased. She saw people from different clans coming and going from their tent. Sabercat. Glass Spider. Thunder Lizard. Even men from the snowy cliffs that claimed the hated Thunderbird. All the Great Totems. The Lesser Totems waited patiently to try to work their own crafts on Caidi. Mountain Cat, the Worg, the Raven, the Horned Snake, the leaping spider.


    Her father Davian came out and scooped Sheilah up and carried her to a great bonfire that was being kindled.


    ¡°Father, How is Caidi?¡± Sheilah looked up at him from his embrace. His grip tightened on Sheilah for a brief moment, enough that she could feel the tension in his body, the well of great strength that lay within him.


    ¡°She has the blood of the Dragon in her... but not the protection.¡± He replied. He didn¡¯t look at her when he spoke.


    ¡°Will all those people... be able to help?¡± She asked. He glanced down at her, then.


    ¡°We¡¯re hoping. I called in every single favor I had and paid the price.¡±


    She blinked at that. ¡°Paid the price?¡±


    He nodded and lowered himself to sit next to her. ¡°A favor is a debt. A debt, naturally, is something that needs to be repaid.¡±


    She chewed this over in her mind for a bit. ¡°What are they doing to her?¡±


    ¡°Do you know about magic?¡± He asked instead.


    She thought about it very carefully. Her father oftentimes spoke in cryptics and left whoever it was he was speaking to figure out- or not- what it meant.


    ¡°I have heard of it, but I don¡¯t know what it is.¡± She finally decided. He nodded.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have need of it. There isn¡¯t a totem out there that allows the use of magic.¡± he replied, and then sank into silence for a while. She was going to speak up, but decided to hold her tongue.


    ¡°Our totems are power and authority. They cannot abide any power that does not come from them. Magic is a power that comes from outside the totems, so they find it offensive and abhorrent.¡± He looked over at Sheilah and gave her a tired sort of smile. ¡°If we were to use magic, the dragon would punish us for the offense.¡±


    ¡°Punish?¡± She asked cautiously. He nodded.


    ¡°When I was-¡± he cut himself off. ¡°In the past,¡± he stressed, changing whatever it was he was going to say, ¡°I was tested for magical aptitude. To see if I could use spells.¡± He paused, clearly considering what he was going to say. ¡°I nearly drowned in my own blood. A punishment from the Dragon. The Dragon is the Absolute Authority; we bend our necks to nothing and no one. So to use magic is to defy the Dragon.¡±


    She nodded. She was familiar with what he had taught her. All of the people of the dragon were taught that.


    She waited for him to continue.


    ¡°The Wild Elves, before they became part of the Clans, could use magic. Naturally, our totems don¡¯t allow magic to be used.¡± He gestured to the people crowding their tent. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t change the fact that they still remember the ways of magic. Caidi... She doesn¡¯t have the protection of the Dragon. So I asked the Wild Elves, those who still remember the ways of healing magic, to try and heal her.¡±


    She bit her lip at that. What price would each of those men and women- those elves- have to pay to try and heal her little sister?


    ¡°They¡¯re going to have to pay a price to their totems to try. And I will have to pay a price to them, because I asked them to try.¡± He paused again. ¡°You understand? It¡¯s all interconnected. We all have a price to pay.¡±


    ¡°What price do I have to pay?¡± She asked after a bit. ¡°Caidi shouldn¡¯t have gone on the hunt. She¡¯s younger than us.¡±


    He shook his head, dismissing the question. ¡°We underestimated the gnolls. Wearing armor, using weapons, using tactics... we all paid the price for that. But a hundred hunters will go into those lands tomorrow and make sure that the gnolls pay the blood price.¡±


    He eyed her speculatively for a moment. ¡°Lean on me and sleep, if you need to. It¡¯s going to be a very long night.¡±


    She laid her head on his leg and closed her eyes. He stroked her hair a little, but the comfort was too little. To whom should she turn? The Totem? Her ancestors? Her family? No matter which direction she sent her thoughts, she came up at a dead end. Caidi didn¡¯t have the Totem¡¯s protection. Her ancestors, revered as they were, were dead. Her family was already doing everything they could.


    She struggled with the contradictory feelings of guilt for bringing Caidi along and the motto of the Redstone, that you lived or died by your own strength.


    In the Clans, everyone built up within themselves a certain hardness, a sense of independence and aloofness, because death could come at any time. If one person drank from a river and another, who was dying of dehydration collapsed near the water just out of reach, the natural reaction would be to let the other die.


    But it was different for Caidi. Everybody liked Caidi. In a way, they doted on her. It showed in how her father called for everyone to come and help her. No one else would do the same for anyone else.


    Sheilah, as her older sister, could have easily told Caidi to stay on the Terrace, or to do chores, or any number of other things. She could have, but she hadn¡¯t.


    She didn¡¯t want to sleep, but somehow fell asleep anyway.


    In her dreams her great-grandfather Lonato stood with eyes of flame, nails dark as jet, dark as ebony. Beside him was his wife, eyes burning. Behind them was an older man, perhaps her legendary great-great-grandfather Adlan. Rings and rings of people circled her, with eyes of molten gold, and looking over them all was the shadow of the great totem, the Dragon of Dragons.


    They all stood somberly, quietly, with an intensity that nailed her heart to the cold ground. Each and every one of the people dressed in embroidered and dyed clothes, in decorated leathers were her ancestors, going back centuries.


    She scrambled to her knees and knelt properly, but they stepped past her silently, like wraiths. None of them seemed to see or acknowledge her.


    ¡°Is it all right if I come with you?¡± A young voice, a familiar voice rose behind her.


    ¡°Do you want to come with us?¡± Her great-grandfather asked kindly.


    Sheilah whirled around, but her ancestors were only glittering trails of light whirling in the air like sand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go, Caidi!¡± Sheilah shrieked. ¡°Stay with us!¡±


    The dream wavered and broke up as her heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline icing her veins. She jolted awake; aware that at some point her father had put a bundle of leather under her head and draped his coat over her as she slept.


    The bonfire still burned; she couldn¡¯t have been asleep long, right?


    She narrowed her eyes; her father carried a bundle in his arms and gently placed it in the heart of the bonfire. Her heart clenched at what she knew lay in that bundle. The flames leapt up as they greedily consumed it.


    Davian stepped away from the bonfire and Sheilah¡¯s mouth dropped open in shock as his eyes suddenly turned into molten orbs of boiling flame. He sucked in a huge breath and blew a blast of flame so great that even the bonfire couldn¡¯t compete with it.


    Each member of the Clan of the Dragon approached the pyre and added their own flame.


    Over and over, they spat the Dragon¡¯s Breath into the pyre, and that¡¯s how Sheilah learned her little sister had died.

 Chapter 4

    For Sheilah, the days that followed were wrapped in a gray fog. She was numb and disconnected. She did her chores with only a distant attachment. All of Caidi¡¯s things except her necklace were burned alongside her body; her necklace was given to Mayrin, Caidi¡¯s mother.


    Her parents tried talking to her, her sisters talked to her, Fialla talked to her, even Atta came to talk to her, but their words passed through her, as empty as the air on the Terrace. She didn¡¯t want words, she wanted her sister back.


    Ever since Caidi had died, people had tried to talk to her. They talked and talked, and they all said the same thing. ¡°Life in the Redstone was harsh.¡±


    ¡°Caidi had gone to be with the Dragon.¡±


    ¡°Caidi was with the ancestors, now.¡±


    She got tired of hearing it, so she stopped listening. Once they stopped talking, things got a little better, though it didn¡¯t fill the hole within her breast, and more importantly, it didn¡¯t bring her littlest sister back.


    Nobody bothered listening to what she wanted to say. It was like whatever she said- regardless of what it was- was simply a foothold for someone else to say whatever they felt like saying. So she stopped talking.


    Whenever someone would try to talk to her, she would turn away and start walking and hope they didn¡¯t follow after. There was no comfort to be found in words.


    Climbing was a little better. Nobody bothered her when she climbed. Other tribes didn¡¯t understand it, but they often said that the soul of the Dragon Clan was in climbing. Dragons liked to climb; they liked the high places, the windy places, the lonely places. But eventually they came up after her and dragged her down.


    She knew what was coming before they even did it- discipline. At first it was chores, an endless wave of chores. Working in the communal gardens, the forge, the tannery scraping hides, fetching water until her hands blistered, even peeling the dragon metal scales from the dragonling hides of others and helping the forgemaster forge them into ingots.


    Dragons and their spawn dug themselves burrows and dens, swallowing great chunks of rocks that were digested and refined into metal scales that adorned the backs of their leathery hides. Whatever was left rumbled around in their stomachs like a chicken¡¯s gizzard, helping to break up and grind down the food they swallowed. Dragon metal was rare and precious.


    She mindlessly went through her chores, mind turned inward, dwelling on how her own ancestors hadn¡¯t even looked her way, dwelling on Caidi¡¯s easy surrender to death, dwelling on her incompetence on the hunt.


    She ran every morning. She carried heavy rocks every afternoon. She fought in the melee every evening.


    It didn¡¯t matter if she won or lost in the fights, she simply picked herself up again and threw herself into it again and again until she was dragged away, bruised and bleeding, barely conscious.


    She stopped eating until her father thrashed her and forced her to. It didn¡¯t matter. Her food was ashes in her mouth.


    She grew gaunt, her glossy black hair sweat-streaked and dirty, her blue eyes dim and unfocused.


    Sheilah took to wandering the empty, desolate places of the Valley and earned herself a thrashing when she had to be dragged back. It didn¡¯t matter what her father did to her, though.


    In her mind she berated herself, over and over again, for bringing Caidi along on the hunt. She upbraided herself for not paying attention. She scourged herself in her mind for not paying attention. Over and over in her mind, she replayed the events of the hunt and punished herself for each mistake, each failure. She could have done better. As a descendant of the First Blood of the Dragon, she should have done better.


    *****


    She seemed to come back to herself when she found herself in Mountain Cat lands, where Caidi had taken her wounds against the gnolls. She marveled at the scorched grasses and charred bones of the hyena-men.


    The Clan of the Dragons had brought their wrath of fire to the lands that belonged to the Mountain Cat, and the whole area was scorched to the earth. She counted skeletons; even if Caidi had lived, they would have been up against fifty of the carrion-eaters.


    Her mouth twisted bitterly. Caidi had been much too young for a hunt this large. Rather, their group had been much too small overall.


    The strangely metallic scent of blood reached her nose, and she instinctively dropped to her knees, seeking cover against a cracked boulder.


    The light came back to her eyes as she glanced around; adrenaline forced her heart to beat harder than she was used to, her chest cramped with pain and her hands clenched into bony fists, her nails digging into her hands as something scraped against the stone ahead of her, just around the stone she was crouched behind.


    The scraping noises continued, alongside a grisly sound of flesh being torn, bones snapping.


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    Sheilah peeked around the boulder, and her jaw dropped in soundless shock as the largest dragonling she¡¯d ever seen tore apart some animal it had caught for its prey.


    She silently leapt atop the boulder she was cowering behind, eyes scanning the terrain. It seemed as though she could get closer if she climbed a short ridge to her right, so she scrambled as quickly as she could, as silently as she could, up the short ridge.


    The dragonling paid her no mind as it ate.


    She reached for her bow and belatedly realized she hadn¡¯t brought it with her.


    She reached for her waist for the short-bladed sword she often took with her and stopped. The sword was gone; she¡¯d stopped carrying it at some point. Her families¡¯ weapons felt strange in her hands, so she¡¯d abandoned them.


    She still had her knife, but the dragonling couldn¡¯t properly be called a dragonling anymore; the thing had a body much larger than a horse, and its bloody maw was capable of tearing her in two.


    How had such a monster been allowed to wander so far south without warning?


    She glanced about, looking for a proper weapon, as if she expected one to materialize before her. She could push down a scorched sapling onto it, but it would be out from underneath it in a flash, and then her life would be over in a searing blast of flame.


    She recalled one of the stories that had been told about her father¡¯s trial in the Ashlands- The story went that he had heaved a boulder down on the dragon from above and crushed its head.


    There was no way that had happened, of course, but-


    She attacked the sooty soil beneath her and clumsily tipped over a large rock, her nails gouging into the stone, striking sparks.


    She could hurl it down on the dragonling¡¯s head; if she was lucky that would be enough to daze it long enough for her to get a killing blow. Who knew, maybe it would crack the thing¡¯s skull.


    She picked it up; the thing slipping in her hands as she raised it to her shoulder. The stone was large and heavy; she could definitely do some damage with it. She judged the distance, settled her feet, and hurled it with all her strength.


    She knew it wasn¡¯t going to hit the moment it left her fingers, but she had no way of snatching it back. She was riding the edge of malnourishment, she¡¯d lost most of her normal strength as she¡¯d vacantly wandered the Redstone.


    Her foot slipped, her toss went awry as the stone slipped in her fingers, and as she heaved she realized it would never reach the head of the young dragon and could only helplessly watch as it floated through the air as if in slow motion and dropped on its back, right above its rear legs.


    She heaved herself back as the dragonling screeched its surprise and whirled. It roared a warning as Sheilah dropped in the blackened soil in an attempt to avoid its followup fire breath.


    When no such attack came, Sheilah poked her head up and dared a peek at the dragonling.


    The dragonling twisted its head left and right, cocking its head as it sniffed the air. It roared again, and waited. Sheilah stayed perfectly still as it eventually stretched out its sinuous neck and snatched up its prey and went back to work tearing it apart.


    She carefully eased herself up; the only thing she was certain she could reliably use was a sapling, but something like that could never harm a dragonling, let alone one that was so clearly close to adulthood.


    She could change ground, however. The area she was in was like a box canyon, and if she went down the side she¡¯d gone down and climbed back up on the opposing side...


    She scrambled backwards, heading back the way she came.


    Hatchlings, dragonlings, and, according to lore, dragons, had a skull plate that protected the vulnerable joint where the head met the neck. If she was very lucky, she could wedge a sapling into that joint between the head and neck and with even more luck, force it to keep its head pointed down, saving her against the dragon breath that was certain to immediately follow such an attack.


    She scrambled up the other side of the box canyon, but the dragonling heard her and tried to face her. Bafflingly, its rear legs didn¡¯t want to support it correctly. Even so, it spat a spectacular jet of flame into the trees she was near, causing her to once again land flat on her belly as it struggled to properly turn around and face her.


    She poked her head up after no followup blast came, and watched with shocked fascination as the dragonling turned and twisted, dragging its rear legs behind it as it turned, its hindquarters refusing to function correctly.


    This was clearly a chance; she planted both of her hands against the trunk of a sapling that was burning merrily, planted her feet and heaved.


    The wood beneath her hands was heating up as she groaned, sweated, and heaved. She dug in with her feet and shoved. Her feet paddled the ground as she put her strength into it.


    The sapling groaned and shuddered and finally heaved over just as the wood was getting blisteringly hot.


    The sapling, a little bigger around than her clenched fist, toppled off the cliff and fell, scattering burning leaves. The dragon struggled to move, but the young tree simply struck its body and clattered off.


    Sheilah shook her head and grit her teeth in frustration; she knew that the sapling wouldn¡¯t do anything, but she¡¯d tried anyway.


    The smoke was thickening now, embers and bits of burning leaves floated around her, and it was getting harder to breathe. She wanted to choke and cough; she grimly held it back as she peeked over the edge.


    Once again she glanced around frantically, despite knowing the futility, hoping that some weapon, some great equalizer would suddenly appear and solve her problems.


    Some of the other saplings that dotted the edge of the box canyon began to topple inwards as they burned, churning up the soil and dislodging rocks as they tumbled over the edge, trailing fire and thin streamers of smoke.


    Her eyes watering, Sheilah spied a much larger rock that had been partially unearthed and stuck out of the dirt like a molar tooth.


    She stared at it numbly for a few moments, trying to understand what it was that caught her attention.


    Rock. Half-torn from the ground. Smoldering sapling nearby.


    Her eyes widened and immediately teared up; she moved to rub them, but instead picked up a fallen sapling and jammed it into the crevice between the rock and ground and heaved on it over and over, trying to pry the rock out of the ground.


    She lost track of time; how long had this been going on? Had the clansmen from the Mountain Cat noticed the smoke from the fires? Surely they had already. Had those of the Dragon? The Dragon¡¯s Terrace offered impeccable sights over the whole of the Redstone, a blaze this large should have been easily visible.


    Eventually someone would come. They had to.


    She dropped to her knees and coughed and choked as the wind blew smoke over her, burning her eyes and blinding her.

 Chapter 5

    Blinking through her tears, Sheilah realized that she¡¯d been trying to lever out the rock in the wrong direction. She lunged forward, pushing her whole weight on the sapling that she¡¯d wedged down as far as she could in the gap, then planted her feet on it and shoved with all her strength.


    The rock shifted under her feet; she sank the sapling down and heaved again, and suddenly the rock, roughly as large as she was but many times heavier, heaved over.


    She fell on her face and scraped her arms, but she shoved her sapling into the new gap and heaved again, and the rock slid off the ledge with a heavy grating sound, and plummeted off edge of the cliff with hollow booms as it clattered down the side.


    A furious roar of pain blasted out from the canyon floor; Sheilah scrambled down from the cliff waving smoke and dust from her face, tears streaming from her eyes, blood trickling from her arms, her legs, her hands, dragging the shattered, smoldering sapling along with her.


    The dragonling was pinned. For some reason its rear legs weren¡¯t working properly, and the rock she¡¯d levered out from the cliff had crushed one of its forelegs, pinning it to the ground. Its wings flapped impotently, pushing clouds of dust and smoke around as it tried to free itself, its one remaining foreleg tearing gashes in the ground as it tried to find some purchase in pulling itself free.


    She wasn''t as strong as she should have been. She was hurt, exhausted, winded, battered, bruised, and bleeding. She didn¡¯t even have the right weapons to fight a dragonling, let alone one of this size. How had one this size gone unnoticed?


    She staggered towards the dragonling and, using her knife, quickly hacked a point into the sapling she¡¯d dragged with her with her knife. A knife was carved from shards of dragontooth; it carried no history, it was a simple tool for anyone to use.


    However, a dragontooth was something that had been forged in the furious flames of a dragon¡¯s breath over and over. It was unbreakable, never lost its edge, and could cut through anything.


    A sapling¡¯s wood proved vulnerable to it just the same as anything else.


    Sheilah lifted up the smoldering sapling in her hand. It wouldn¡¯t be useful as a weapon unless she was really, really lucky, but when it came to things like luck, hers seemed to be all used up.


    Besides, things like ¡®luck¡¯ didn¡¯t exist in the Redstone. You lived and died by your own strength.


    *****


    She didn¡¯t have a plan; there was no room for one. There was simply a dragonling and her, and one of them had to die.


    She ran forward, bare feet slapping in the ashy remains of had been rich soil, lands that the Mountain Cat had claimed for themselves. She had no real right to be there except for two reasons: the first was the dragonling; only a member of the Dragon Clan could hunt them. The second was the Dragon Clan went where they liked, and bent their neck to no one.


    The second was actually something that was carefully managed and dealt with through negotiation and complex exchanges of favors. Technically, the Dragon Clan could go where they liked and technically do whatever they wanted, but the cost would be high, politically speaking. Since the Dragon Clan didn¡¯t want to be burdened under the weight of endless favors owed, territories were usually respected, with the exception of Totem hunting.


    The sapling she carried blazed like an inferno as she raced towards the dragon, small branches and leaves scattering sparks and embers. She couldn¡¯t see anything; the smoke caught in her eyes and blinded her, but she could hear the screeches of the trapped and pinned dragonling.


    The air cleared for a moment, and she could see the monstrous head that could chew her head off with one bite swing towards her.


    Grabbing the sapling with both hands, she dragged the burning end of the sapling in a pivot and swung it behind her.


    The Dragon¡¯s mouth opened in a horrific yawning arc; for a moment she thought she could see into that yawning maw, see the dreadful fires that seethed in the monster¡¯s body, ready to blast her to ash.


    She settled her feet and swung the sapling around like a club, planting the knife- carved butt of the sapling into the ground as she heaved with all her might to bring the burning end around with a furious scream of her own.


    The burning branches and limbs of the sapling slammed into the dragonling¡¯s head, scattering embers and flames across the dragon¡¯s head.


    A dragonling wouldn¡¯t be damaged by something so pitiful, a sapling could no more damage a dragonling than a feather swung against a human. A dragonling was immune to fire; she hoped that the scattering embers would cause it to close its eyes by reflex.


    She heard the drake close its mouth with a snap; saw it turn its head away; she let the sapling drop and drew her knife.


    All of the weapons of the Clan of the Dragon were carved and ground from the teeth of dragons. Dragon teeth were stronger than steel and tempered by the flames a dragon spat.


    Dragonhide was strong, able to turn aside any steel weapon, but a dragon tooth- a dragontooth could pierce dragonhide. A dragontooth knife, polished and ground to a razor¡¯s edge, could cut dragonling hide.


    Fialla had pointed out... when had she mentioned it?- that the wattles around the neck were especially weak. Sheilah had only one chance to use her knife, one chance to kill the beast.


    She leapt up off the dragonling¡¯s foreleg, drew her knife and reversed the blade in her hand and brought it down with a terrific impact that jarred her arms and numbed her hands.


    The dragonling screamed and swung its head about to shake Sheilah loose, flapping its wings futilely. Her grip slipped; she firmed her grip and swung her body as the dragonling struggled to deal with an extra  hundred pounds of weight dangling off its head.


    It swung its head left and right, trying to dislodge Sheilah with a ferocity that she knew would kill her if she let go. She hung on for dear life as the dragonling thrashed about wildly.


    Suddenly she slipped, and a spatter of liquid drenched her arms and slimed her grip. She opened her eyes and realized that her knife had cut a gash in the tender hide as the dragonling thrashed about.


    She grit her teeth, but realized her jaw was already clenched tight with effort.


    Now she swung her body, trying to get gravity to work in her favor as she dragged the knife down and dug it deeper, opening the gash wider. Dragonling blood splashed her face; she laughed maniacally, bathing in it, tasting it, drinking the scalding hot lifeblood of the dragon, spluttering laughter as she struggled not to choke as it washed over her.


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    She lost her grip on her knife, a blade that had been passed down from father to son from her great-great-grandfather to her father, to her.


    The dragon screeched again, a scream she¡¯d heard before; a scream of mortal hurt. She hit the dirt and swallowed more of the blood, dizzy and euphoric, panting and desperately struggling to stay cogent.


    She was possessed by visions of the world on fire, a massive spire of a mountain that oozed molten fire like the dragon¡¯s own blood.


    She licked the blood off her hands, tasting iron and the grit of dirt, and struggled to her feet. The Dragonling let out a weak scream as blood spurted and streamed from the wound in its neck.


    She staggered towards the nearly full-grown dragon as its head hit the ground. She knelt and drank from the wound she¡¯d cut in it, feeling her insides sear in fiery pain, feeling her mind blast apart as strange visions flooded it.


    *****


    She couldn¡¯t remember when she did it, but she retrieved her great-grandfather¡¯s knife and cut through the tender, weaker skin behind the dragon¡¯s forelimb and into the body of the beast and cut out the drake¡¯s nine-chambered heart and ate that, too.


    Drinking the blood and eating the heart of the hatchlings and dragonlings gave the people of the Dragon Clan a fraction of their power. As a result, everyone in the Clan of the Dragon gained black hair, and razor sharp, unbreakable black nails.


    When it came time to hunt a fully grown dragon, they would gain the full benefits of eating the flesh of their totem, a secret revealed only before they left to become adults as they began their hunt into the Ashlands, far to the north.


    *****


    Fialla had watched the entire fight from her vantage. She¡¯d wanted to help her friend several times, especially when it was obvious that Sheilah didn¡¯t have a weapon, but a hatchling fight, a dragonling fight, a dragon fight- all of them were done alone.


    You lived and died by your own strength.


    Fialla considered herself Sheilah¡¯s very best friend. She followed the human girl everywhere she went, struggled to do everything that Sheilah could do.


    Sheilah was a human, which meant that she was taller and stronger than the slim, lithe Fialla, who was half-elven. It seemed that it was decided from birth that she¡¯d always be smaller and weaker than Sheilah, but it didn¡¯t stop the girl¡¯s determination to try and be Sheilah¡¯s equal in all things.


    She wasn¡¯t sure if Sheilah had fought a fully-grown dragon or a nearly full grown dragon, but the fact that Sheilah had killed it with a knife resonated within the elven girl¡¯s breast, reaffirming her faith in the human girl.


    Sheilah could do anything.


    *****


    After a very long time, a time she couldn¡¯t remember, Sheilah staggered to her feet. She was dizzy and gazed at everything around her vacantly.


    ¡°Sheilah!¡± Fialla called, appearing from nowhere and throwing her arms around the taller girl with exuberance.


    Sheilah stared at the girl blankly.


    ¡°Fialla.¡± She finally managed, her throat raw and ragged.


    ¡°That was a-¡± the elven girl gave her a wide-eyed look. ¡°It was like the stories!¡± She exclaimed, picking up her spear and dancing around the taller girl in her exuberance, shaking her spear over her head.


    Sheilah gazed at Fialla blankly, and then, turning to the dead drake, went to its head and began forcing the mouth open. She needed a tooth as proof of her kill.


    ¡°That thing¡¯s huge!¡±Fialla exclaimed as Sheilah grimly bent to her task. ¡°Those teeth- You should talk to your father. They¡¯re much too big to be dragonling teeth. You might not even need to go to the Ashlands!¡±


    Fialla was right. The tooth that she cut from the beast¡¯s mouth was long enough to be ground down into one of the Dragon Clan¡¯s famous short-bladed swords.


    A normal dragonling¡¯s teeth were only finger-length.


    Sheilah wordlessly cut the tooth from the dragon¡¯s mouth, and then stepped back, her eyes fixed on the large wings of the dragonling.


    ¡°What?¡± Fialla asked, curiously following the taller girl¡¯s gaze.


    Sheilah climbed up on the drake¡¯s back and out onto the wing, where she began dismantling the wing closest to Fialla.


    ¡°What? What are you doing?¡± Fialla asked, watching Sheilah go to work, digging her knife in between the gaps between the bones, cutting carefully.


    Once she was done with whatever it was she was hoping to do with that wing, she strode over to the other wing and began cutting there, too.


    Fialla watched with unabashed curiosity, comfortable with Sheilah¡¯s silence. Sheilah didn¡¯t need to explain anything she did to the half-elf girl, she simply needed to do whatever it was she wanted, and once it was done, Fialla would understand.


    When Sheilah returned, she had a number of dragon wing bones and several sheets of the webbing that stretched and flexed between the wingbones. Sheilah wrapped up her trophies and turned to the dead beast.


    She opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head, hefted her bundle to her shoulder, and walked away, Fialla following shortly after.


    *****


    When Sheilah returned home covered in dried, flaking blood, her mothers exclaimed and worried over her and checked her for wounds. She didn¡¯t say anything or respond to their questions, simply draped the wing-webbing over the leather racks to be stretched, washed her hands in the bucket and threw herself into bed.


    ¡°She¡¯s getting further and further away from us.¡± Ladria complained to her husband Davian after the girl had gone to sleep.


    ¡°She blames herself for Caidi¡¯s death.¡± Mayrin added in her cool, crisp voice. She always sounded indifferent and disinterested, no matter what it was she talked about- or to whom.


    ¡°It was explained to her that it wasn¡¯t her fault.¡± Davian replied. ¡°She just needs to learn that herself.¡± He added.


    ¡°I think that you should try talking to her again.¡± Ladria insisted. ¡°And this time, make sure she understands that it wasn¡¯t her fault.¡±


    Davian rolled his eyes. ¡°What she needs is-¡± He cut himself off and then shook his head. ¡°Something that doesn¡¯t exist in this world.¡± He finished lamely. He picked over the things she dropped and eyed the dragonling tooth she¡¯d brought back.


    ¡°What do you make of this?¡± He asked curiously.


    ¡°Did she-¡± Ladria started to ask, but cut herself off, looking up at her husband.


    ¡°You think she slew a Dragon.¡± Mayrin added. ¡°It¡¯s certainly the size of a Dragon¡¯s tooth.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to see the corpse for myself.¡± Davian muttered. He stepped out of the tent briefly and eyed the sky. ¡°I¡¯ll go have a look.¡± He explained to the two elven women. ¡°Keep an eye on her.¡±


    When Sheilah awoke, she drew buckets of water as lifelessly as she had before, hauling the full buckets to fill the stone pots they used to hold the water they used before the others awoke.


    Once that was done, she settled herself down to work with her knife on the dragonbones, using the flexible strands of webbing to bind them to each other, and then from there, affix them to a bowstave for strength.


    She sat outside the tent, tending a small fire while she cooked her breakfast when Davian returned.


    He saw the fire and let out a short, frustrated sigh.


    A family member cooking their food outside of their family home held many cultural meanings to the Clansmen of the Redstone, none of which were positive.


    ¡°Go inside, Sheilah. There¡¯s a warm fire that you can eat at.¡±


    ¡°Chores are done.¡± She replied indifferently, fishing out the scraps of meat from the fire and stuffing them into her mouth. She kicked the fire apart, shouldered her dragonling bones and trudged away.


    He grit his teeth in frustration, and debated going after her against getting a couple of hours of sleep before dawn arrived.


    He turned towards the tent, and then turned back to her, but she was already gone.

 Chapter 6

    Nothing mattered anymore, so Sheilah walked away from her home.


    She¡¯d eaten outside because it was convenient to eat her meal outside while she worked on her weapon. She knew what it looked like, was aware of the social implications, but she didn¡¯t care anymore.


    It probably hurt her father¡¯s feelings to be seen like that, but since nothing mattered, she dismissed it from her mind.


    She wasn¡¯t certain what did matter, so she let her mind wander as she wandered the Redstone.


    She wasn¡¯t certain how long it would take for the wingbones to cure properly, but she was certain that once they¡¯d cured, she could try using the bow she¡¯d crafted. How strong would it be? Could she kill a dragonling with it? A dragon?


    Ever since that night, that night her sister had died, that night that her ancestors had appeared and none of them had even looked at her,  Her families¡¯ weapons felt strange in her hands, as if they refused to be used by her.


    Her knife was something that had been made from a broken chunk of dragon tooth that had been chipped away when her great-great-grandfather Adlan had made his sword. It was later fashioned into a knife that anyone could use.


    ¡°Are you fighting with your family? With Davian?¡± She was asked when she approached the forge. Today it was her turn to work at the forge.


    She stared vacantly at the smith for a while, not comprehending, and then turned back to the bellows she was supposed to be working and got to work.


    It would take time to explain that she was working outside and it was more convenient to eat outside while she worked.


    She would have to explain to the smith what it was she was working on, perhaps even show it to him. There was no point in it, so she swallowed her words and worked the bellows.


    The smith shrugged and went back to work.


    *****


    Down at the lake, there was a boar that was known for its ferocity and stubbornness. It was known to many as ¡®Longtusk¡¯, but Davian referred to it as ¡®Boarzilla¡¯ for reasons he kept to himself.


    It was much larger and heavier than the boars that the Clans had tamed, and everyone had learned to keep a healthy distance from it, lest they incur its wrath.


    Clan legend said that no one had ever been able to successfully hunt it, and from her vantage, she could see broken-off arrowheads and spearpoints embedded in its tough, leathery hide. It took absolutely zero shit from anybody, and had killed several people who had tried.


    Sheilah eyed the monstrous beast from her perch atop a stony outcrop for a while, and satisfied, took from her pouch a coiled bit of thin, twisted strip of dragon wing webbing and tried to string her new dragonbone bow.


    Stringing her bow took every ounce of strength she had, and she was only able to do so because the bowstave the bones were lashed to was flexible enough to allow it. Once the sinew was affixed to the long, thin, and somewhat flexible wingbones for a bowstring, she lay an arrow across her new bow and discovered that she¡¯d need to make newer, longer arrows for it.


    She tested the draw, and discovered that it had a much stronger pull than she was used to.


    She tested herself; drawing and relaxing the bow over and over again, getting used to its pull. Eventually she sighed, frustrated. She wasn¡¯t nearly strong enough to draw the bow on her own. She tucked her feet into the grip of the bow, nocked an arrow, gripped the bowstring in her hands and then sat back, which drew the bow as far as the short arrow would allow.


    She lined up her shot, and when ¡®Boarzilla¡¯ came into her sights, she released the bowstring and watched as the arrow sailed across the intervening space.


    The arrow smashed through Boarzilla¡¯s head, shot through the other side, and disintegrated in a spray of shattered wood, blood, and fletchings.


    She rose to her feet, shouldered her bow, and eyed the collapsed wild pig with a numb surprise, watching it as it bled out down near the lake.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t nearly as fearsome as everyone made it out to be.¡± She muttered, unaware she¡¯d spoken aloud.


    *****


    She went down the slope to check her kill, mind turning inwards, already reliving the moment when the gnoll forced itself on top of Caidi, burying her under its massive weight.


    When she got down to the hulk of the body, she grimaced. The boar was unbelievably massive. It would be nearly impossible to get it home on her own.


    She cut its throat and let the blood run as she considered how to get it back home, then tied its feet with a bit of rope and gave it a tug. It moved surprisingly easily for something of its weight. Was it lighter than it appeared?


    She tucked one of its hindlegs over her shoulder and stood experimentally. It was unbearably heavy, and there was no way she was going to be able to carry it herself.


    ¡°Need some help?¡± Fialla asked solicitously, appearing next to Sheilah as if she¡¯d been hiding in Sheilah¡¯s shadow.


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    ¡®Sheilah¡¯s Shadow¡¯ they called her because of the way she¡¯d constantly chased after Sheilah, practically since birth.


    Fialla struggled with her portion, and the two of them dragged the gigantic boar of legend away from the lake and back to the Terrace of the Dragon.


    ¡°What... is that?¡± Mayrin asked, her face in a cool, disapproving grimace as Fialla and Sheilah dismantled it.


    ¡°You should have seen it! ¡° Fialla exclaimed. ¡°Sheilah took out Longtusk with a single shot from her bow!¡±


    ¡°Your father will need to hear of this.¡± Mayrin muttered, and then sighed. ¡°We didn¡¯t have any plans to do any boar-slaughtering... though I suppose an exception can be made for such a beast.¡±


    She drew her own dragontooth blade and bent to work, indifferently pushing up her sleeves to prevent blood from getting on them.


    ¡°You should know that wild boar will be tougher and harder to eat than the ones we have in pens in the valley, so it will take longer to cook.¡± She explained crisply.


    Sheilah continued cutting apart the giant boar silently.


    *****


    The death of Boarzilla- Her father called it Boarzilla for so long to his family that they couldn¡¯t help but call it anything else- caused something of a stir in the tribe, and so an impromptu feast was planned, portions divided and handed out to the other families that made up the tribe.


    Sheilah kept trying to leave, but Ladria kept a firm grip on her, and made certain she remained throughout the whole thing, something Sheilah resented.


    After dinner her parents sat her down next to one of the large earthenware jugs they used to store their water, gave her a bucket and a handful of rags.


    ¡°You¡¯re starting to stink. Wash yourself.¡± They commanded, and so she did. She could hear the conversation they held over her head as if she wasn¡¯t even there, and wondered what it meant.


    ¡°So was it really an adult dragon?¡± Ladria asked Davian. ¡°How did it get so far into the Redstone?¡±


    ¡°Nearly full-grown, I think. Great-grandfather Adlan would know better; he was something of an expert.¡± Her father replied.


    ¡°So, she...¡± Mayrin cut in worriedly.


    ¡°It¡¯s too early to tell. We should keep an eye on her for the time being.¡±


    ¡°...and ¡®Boarzilla¡¯?¡± Ladria asked.


    ¡°I dunno.¡± He replied simply. ¡°Just testing out her new bow?¡± He offered with a laugh. ¡°It¡¯s fantastic, by the way. Incredibly strong pull.¡±


    ¡°The tooth?¡± Ladria asked as Sheilah splashed water over her head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. Just keep an eye on her in case the worst happens.¡± He decided.


    Supervision. She didn¡¯t much like that. Children were rarely supervised once they started hunting dragonlings. It was part of the transition into becoming an adult. By the time you learned to hunt a dragonling, you knew how to do your chores, how to arrange your own schedule so that you could take care of your responsibilities and balance them against your hunts.


    In the early mornings, there were chores. In the late morning, you took a turn at helping around the camp. Afterwords, you were free to hunt until the early evening, at which point there was clan or tribe storytelling, the melee, dinner, there was some time that the family talked about things that needed to be said, and then everyone went to bed before it started freezing.


    Supervision meant that she was no longer capable of being responsible for herself.


    *****


    If she¡¯d lost the independence that everyone else had, then she¡¯d there really was no meaning to anything.


    Nothing truly mattered anymore.


    She awoke the next day in the early morning, before anyone else. She dressed quickly, quietly, while everyone else in the tent was still wrapped in their sleep, huddled in their beds against the cold.


    Being sent from your parent¡¯s bed was itself an unspoken rite of passage. ¡®You are old enough to face the cold of the Redstone nights on your own.¡¯ How long before even that was taken from her?


    She left the tent and looked up at the stars for a moment, breathing in the crisp, dry air. She exhaled fog, picked up her gear, shouldered her bow, took a quiver of arrows, and walked away from the camp.


    Twenty minutes later, she¡¯d walked away from her tribe. Several hours after that, she¡¯d left the Dragon¡¯s Terrace and the Clan.


    *****


    The Redstone was vast, housing a number of separate Clans, each with their own territories, each clan composed of any number of individual tribes. The further one headed north, the more sparse and empty the land became, and the more deadly the land. All sorts of things came from the Ashlands to the north, but they weren¡¯t the only things that could kill.


    *****


    Dragons, dragonlings, and hatchlings all liked high places. Barring high places, they took any place with a vantage, a place where they could bask in the sun and look down upon everything. Dragons were at the pinnacle, the apex of everything, and just as their position was determined at the top, so was the places that they liked to haunt.


    There were plenty of cliffs and buttes that could house a dragonling, and Sheilah herself sat on a tiny cliff ledge that was covered in dragonling sign, furrows cut out of the rock by their claws.


    She herself was busy leaving her own sign, carving her clan sigil into the side of the tiny perch she was on with a fingernail when a dragonling crawled out of a niche in the rocks and greeted the world with a roar that echoed and reverberated against the cliffs. It was followed by a puff of flame, and then the dragonling began looking for food.


    In this area, ¡®food¡¯ was likely to be goat.


    Sheilah herself had eaten part of the goat that she¡¯d staked out on the ground below in the hopes it would attract a dragonling.


    Dragonlings weren¡¯t scavengers, but the kill was fresh, it would draw their attention.


    She slowly and carefully nocked an arrow to her bow as the dragonling drew closer so that she could get a clear shot. You had to be unfailingly precise when you used a bow against a dragonling- you had about one good shot against them before they turned their fury upon you.


    ¡°Patience makes a great hunter.¡± She muttered quietly to herself, unaware that she¡¯d spoken aloud. ¡°Sometimes the best hunts happen when you do nothing at all except wait for them to come to you.¡±


    The dragonling moved over the ground with a sinuous, snake-like slither, its wings taut against its body.


    This one was the size of either a very large wolf or a very small donkey. ¡°A size I¡¯m most familiar with.¡± She whispered to herself as the dragonling chased away other predators and scavengers with two long jets of flame.


    A little closer and the dragonling would be within range.

 Chapter 7

    Sheilah shifted her position slightly to keep the dragonling in view. She had to raise the bow, draw the bow, and fire quickly, before it noticed. She had to kill the dragonling before it saw her, since she had neither spear or sword with her.


    The dragonling snaked its head towards the goat, and that was the absolute best that Sheilah could hope for.


    When shooting from above, the best shots for a dragonling were either through the neck just behind the head, or in the unarmored part where the wings joined the body. For Sheilah, with a new bow with a strength that hadn¡¯t been fully tested, a shot between the wingbones might hit the heart, in which the kill was ruined. The heart had to be undamaged.


    She struggled to keep her aim on the dragonling; her arms quivered with the strain of keeping the bow steady.


    It shot out a blast of fire at the goat itself as a proof of capture, and began eating, tearing chunks of half-cooked flesh from its prey as the smell of charred goat hide wafted up to Sheilah.


    There would never be a better time to shoot.


    Her arm quivered with the strain; she lined up her shot and fired; the arrow sailed downwards and missed the dragonling, shattering on the stones next to the dragon¡¯s head.


    The dragonling immediately looked up, leathery lips wrinkling back from brutal teeth like daggers, wings flaring. A heartbeat later it roared and launched itself upwards towards her, wings beating briskly.


    Without thinking, without considering the consequences, she leapt off her perch and fell, slamming into the dragonling midair, struggling to avoid the claws that dug and slashed and gouged, and the hissing, snapping head.


    They hit the ground together; Sheilah knifing the dragonling in the throat and latching onto the wound with her mouth so that she could drink.


    Once again, her mind was blasted apart with strange visions and incomprehensible, cold, alien thoughts.


    The blood was searing hot; it felt like her body was cooking from the inside out. She carved the heart out of the dragonling¡¯s chest and ate it, her hands absently carving strips of meat from the flesh of the animal.


    She slowly came back to herself as shadows flitted past herself; a number of dragonlings had taken flight, swirling around the sides of the butte and flying away.


    She cursed herself. She¡¯d sacrificed a chance at several dragonlings for a chance at a single dragonling.


    She cut out the teeth of the dragonling and tucked them into her pouch. She needed to get better, get stronger, get smarter in her hunts.


    She struggled away from her kill, stumbling against the rocks, feeling the pain from a dozen deep gashes from the dragonling, feeling the pain from the jarring impact slamming the dragonling into the ground.


    *****


    ¡°So this is where you were.¡± Ladria¡¯s voice snapped Sheilah out of her fugue, causing her to whip around, lightning quick.


    Her mother was even faster, easily ducking Sheilah¡¯s wild kick.


    There was a cold part of Sheilah¡¯s mind that made the brutal calculation, considered the distance between herself and her mother, and whether or not she could attack with bow or knife, but she squashed it.


    Sheilah¡¯s eyelids flickered. The second instinct was to ask; the third was to disregard the second.


    Asking would only lead to another pointless sermon. There was nothing to say; there was nothing to be heard. The conversation was over before it began.


    She turned away and began walking in the direction the dragonlings had flown.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Ladria demanded.


    Sheilah paused, debated on what Ladria would tell her, decided that it would be irrelevant, and continued walking away.


    Her whole body hurt. She was covered in scratches and scrapes from the dragonling¡¯s claws, and the impact from the fall had rattled her bones and left telltale bruises that would be purple by nightfall.


    ¡°I said, ¡®wait¡¯.¡± Ladria stated flatly, in the voice of a mother that would not be denied.


    Sheilah stiffened and turned back to her elven mother.


    Despite being a young teen, Sheilah was only a little smaller than her elven mother. Elves were a petite, slim, and lithe people, while humans were taller and stronger by nature.


    ¡°You¡¯re just here to tell me things, right?¡± Sheilah croaked. Her throat was seared and raw from drinking dragonling blood, and her mind wavered and wandered.


    She wasn¡¯t entirely sure that Ladria was even real.


    Ladria frowned in that stubborn way that only a mother could express.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. You won¡¯t say anything I haven¡¯t heard before.¡± Sheilah concluded, awkwardly picked up her bow with one bloody hand, and turned away.


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    ¡°I said, ¡®wait¡¯.¡± Ladria repeated, her voice harder than before.


    Sheilah turned around, and Ladria held up a small satchel that had been crafted from dragonling hide.


    ¡°Food.¡± She stated flatly.


    ¡°...food.¡± Sheilah repeated dully.


    Ladria nodded, face smooth and her expression easygoing, but her eyes were flinty and hard.


    *****


    Ladria set out a hearty repast of cold meats, baked potatoes, eggs, a block of goat cheese, and a number of vegetables.


    ¡°Eat.¡± She insisted.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡± Sheilah replied listlessly, and then pushed herself to her feet, trying to ignore the silent scream of her bruised muscles.


    Ladria yanked her back down insistently.  ¡°Eat. Every bite.¡± She insisted.


    ¡°I eat enough.¡± Sheilah argued, getting back up, but Ladria yanked her back down.


    ¡°Every bite.¡± She insisted again.


    Sheilah surrendered. Ladria wasn¡¯t asking the impossible, and as long as she didn¡¯t launch into the usual empty platitudes, it was fine.


    Besides, she was hungry.


    Sheilah obligingly put a slice of cured meat in her mouth and chewed, trying to ignore the insistent feeling of hunger that roared from her midsection.


    ¡°You¡¯re at the age when your body is growing in all sorts of ways.¡± Ladria began, and Sheilah frowned.


    ¡°You told me this two years ago.¡± She complained. Another irrelevant conversation.


    She got back up, and Ladria smoothly kicked Sheilah¡¯s feet out from underneath her.


    Sheilah hit the ground and smacked her chin on a flat rock, cutting the inside of her mouth.


    ¡°You¡¯re not listening.¡± Ladria shot back coolly. ¡°Your body is growing in all sorts of different ways, and in order to do it the right way, you need to eat.¡± She continued flatly. ¡°So eat this. All of it.¡± She finished.


    Sheilah ate in silence, upset and knowing full well that Ladria would not let her leave until she¡¯d eaten every single bite.


    There was meat of course, but also a large helping of greens, carrots, and corn. There was a small bundle of rations at the bottom of the pack, something she thought she needed to set aside for later, but as she went to store them in her own pack, Ladria gave her a villainous grin and repeated,


    ¡°All of it.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a withering look, but complied, stuffing the rations into her mouth mechanically, chewing and swallowing until they were gone.


    ¡°Good.¡± Ladria praised when the satchel was empty. They sat quietly together for a while. As the silence stretched to the breaking point, Sheilah reached for her bow.


    ¡°Why have you stopped talking to us, Sheilah?¡± Ladria asked curiously.


    ¡°Should I?¡± Sheilah replied listlessly. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if I talk or not.¡±


    ¡°Yes it does.¡± Ladria insisted. ¡°It helps us to understand what¡¯s going on inside you-¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing it again.¡± Sheilah remarked irritably. Her anger was rising.


    Ladria folded her hands on her lap. ¡°What is it that I¡¯m doing?¡±


    Sheilah rolled her eyes.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I say. It¡¯s just an excuse for you to say whatever you want. Nobody ever listens to what I want to say.¡± Sheilah spat. ¡°Nobody cares what I want to say. There¡¯s no point in saying anything.¡±


    Ladria took a breath, adjusted her posture, and folded her hands in her lap, somehow becoming a touch more regal.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening, daughter.¡± She began, all of her attention focused on Sheilah.


    Sheilah stared at Ladria for a long moment, and then, feeling the hot prickle of tears in her eyes, suddenly stood.


    ¡°I... ¡° She began, but her throat choked up. ¡°I...¡± She shrugged helplessly. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to say now.¡± She complained.


    ¡°We can try again.¡± Ladria replied. ¡°Over and over again, until you can say what you need to say. And no matter what it is you say, I will still love you as my daughter, and I promise that I will listen to you.¡±


    This time, when Sheilah shouldered her bow, Ladria didn¡¯t try to stop her.


    ¡°Make sure you¡¯re home by dark. Davian has something for you.¡± Ladria commanded. ¡°You might think that it¡¯s a pain, but it¡¯s important, Sheilah.¡±


    Sheilah shrugged indifferently as she walked away. She was filled with an indescribable feeling, something that was a mix of frustration, disappointment, apathy, a deep-seated pain and self-loathing.


    *****


    She didn¡¯t bother listening to her mother, deciding to spend her night in the untamed wilds, something many people often considered to be suicidal. There was a variety of plants and animals that would kill you in the daytime; likewise there were a number of others that specifically hunted at night, hungry for the flesh of other living things.


    Sheilah didn¡¯t care. More, she didn¡¯t have the room to care. When she wasn¡¯t hunting, her mind turned inwards, endlessly regurgitating and dwelling on the things she was preoccupied with. She kept reviewing everything in her head, over and over again, trying to find answers for herself.


    What she didn¡¯t expect however, was that every morning she would wake up to find the same dragonling leather satchel filled with three meals¡¯ worth of food.


    Ladria was nothing if not persistent. And unbearably stealthy. Sheilah could wake up when a desert mouse scampered across her camp, but for some reason Ladria could drop off her food while Sheilah slept without disturbing her.


    It was frustrating.


    She was merciless in her hunts; where she would once have been satisfied with the thought of hunting a single dragonling in a month or even a year, she instead relentlessly sought them out every day in the untamed lands of the north.


    Each was a monster the size of a donkey or a horse, crafty and clever, able to breathe fire. Each fell to her arrows, which were now crafted from fire-hardened wood and tipped with dragon-tooth points.


    Her new arrows were much longer than the arrows she¡¯d left with, and frustratingly, Ladria was right; the food she¡¯d been given had allowed her to grow stronger.


    The further she ranged away from the lands where the Clansmen hunted their Totems, the fewer and fewer she was bothered, until finally she was completely and utterly alone.

 Chapter 8

    Sheilah was wholly feral; the only time she felt truly alive was when she drank the blood of the dragonlings she hunted. In those moments she was herself again, her heart was aflame, but her mind was clear, she felt like she was aware of herself in a way she¡¯d never been before, from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.


    But those moments faded quickly.


    Her meals largely consisted of the dragonlings she hunted, raw, stringy flesh going down her throat in handfuls. There were plenty of times that she wasn¡¯t able to find dragonlings, and for that, she ate whatever she could find and chewed the spongy, bitter cactus flesh to drink in the water.


    Caidi, Caidi, Caidi. The brief times she was aware of herself she could think nothing else but of her little sister and how she shouldn¡¯t have brought Caidi along to hunt gnolls. Everything else was a blurry smear of tracking and hunting.


    She hunted to forget, but the memory of her little sister would not lay quiet. It haunted her, chased her through the Redstone, wove between lonely spires and deceptively deadly box canyons, always dogging her heels, refusing to be forgotten.


    There was a disjointed memory that persisted in Sheilah¡¯s mind and filled her dreams; she was in a place she shouldn¡¯t have been, fighting gnolls. The place was burning with a furious blaze as the hyena-men screamed and laughed in their high-pitched voices.


    The flames refused to be doused, which only seemed to encourage her.


    She awoke from those dreams shuddering and shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her black nails digging into her skin hard enough to draw blood.


    *****


    Her dream- or was it a memory? Started out clearly enough: She was where she shouldn¡¯t have been.


    There were three places that were considered forbidden and taboo by Clan Law: The Keep, the Tower, and the Town, all three remnants of the Stormheim occupation.


    The Stomheim Keep in the Redlands was placed on a short rise with cliffs on every side. It was bordered with thick stone walls and the gates themselves were made with thick wooden beams harvested from trees that didn¡¯t exist in the Redlands themselves.


    The stones that made up the keep weren¡¯t native to the Redstone either; they were dense gray things carved and fitted together. The whole keep stood out from the reddish-brown soil and stone of the Redlands, an obvious intrusion, something foreign and alien that didn¡¯t belong.


    There was a steep path that led up to the imposing structure; Sheilah jogged up the incline easily.


    There was a strange sense of defiance and rebellion that burned in her breast. If her father had forbidden something, she would do it. Her depression and apathy had hardened into a bitter canker that occasionally flared into a resentful stubborn belligerence.


    A strange, bitter smell wafted across her nostrils, something that immediately evoked feelings of hate, fear, and despair. She fell on her ass and nearly rolled back down the incline.


    What was that smell, so rancid and bitter? She couldn¡¯t place it, despite its familiarity. She unlimbered her bow and rose into a crouch, pushing her shoulder against the cliff of Redstone and nocking an arrow. Her skin crawled with the sense of danger, and she warred with the demanding sense that she stand proud and defiant against whatever it was that terrified her so, and the more hardheaded and grounded belief that she approach cautiously.


    She struggled with the conflicting impulses, struggled to keep her breathing under control. Her heart was trying to punch its way out from her ribcage and her veins were filled with molten fear.


    She strained all of her senses to catch the slightest hint of what it was that terrified her so, even as she struggled to force her frozen legs into movement.


    Her legs didn¡¯t want to move. They didn¡¯t want to move at all. She grimaced, gritting her teeth. She wanted to go on, but something within her denied that impulse, rejecting it with terror.


    It would be so easy to give up.


    She wasn¡¯t sure how she was able to take her first step. There was no catharsis, no great revelation, There was just a sense that her feet had moved and she was moving up the incline slowly.


    That bitter stench wafted over her again, but she kept moving. That was important.


    A shadow appeared from further up the trail; Sheilah immediately planted her back against the cliff face and tensed her bow string. She couldn¡¯t forget the familiar stench that drifted down from above; it was something she was intimately familiar with.


    She stepped around and looked up the path; a gnoll stood between two boulders and sniffed the air.


    She immediately brought the bow up and drew the arrow and released without thinking. There was no need to think about such things; a gnoll was a blight to the land, a bringer of death and suffering.


    The arrow punched through the gnoll¡¯s skull; the beast dropped limply.


    Sheilah nocked another arrow quickly and advanced up the path leading up to the keep.


    Three more gnolls suddenly appeared; she fired quickly, drawing more arrows from her quiver with quick, dextrous movements.


    When you were on your own in the wilderness, there was nobody else to rely on except yourself.


    *****


    She walked up the path cautiously, arrow nocked, bow ready.


    The gnolls wore bits of leather armor, some of them carried battered, rusted weapons. She stared blankly at them for some time, trying to put the pieces together. Metal was somewhat rare in the Redlands.


    In fact, aside from the Dragon Metal that the Dragon Clan used for some of their tools, most of the metal that was used throughout the Redstone had originally come from Stormheim.


    *****


    Up ahead, there would be the front gate into the keep. She scampered past the bodies, wondering how she was going to get inside.


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    Her fears were unfounded; one of the keep doors had fallen over, the metal corroded and warped. She crept forward in a crouch, an arrow nocked but not drawn, peeking into the keep¡¯s interior.


    The main keep was a large garrison, designed to host hundreds of Stormheim soldiers during their occupation of the Redlands. Between the outer wall and the keep was a training yard where a half-dozen or so of the giggling hyena-men growled and yipped at each other. Some had spears, others carried swords, each wore bits of armor, some of it leather, others wearing battered metal.


    She froze when she recognized the symbol on the armor they wore, lightning over a castle.


    Somehow the gnolls had occupied the keep and appropriated the weapons and armor left behind?


    These were far, far more dangerous than the ones she¡¯d faced with her sisters.


    She focused her attention on each of the gnolls, picking her targets, judging them, trying to figure out how to pick them off one at a time.


    After about twenty minutes of careful, quiet observation, she realized that there was simply no way that it could be done. The moment she killed one, the others would be on her too quickly to retaliate against. She wasn¡¯t sure her arrows could even get through that armor.


    She shouldered her bow and glanced up.


    Of course.


    A Dragon¡¯s strength came from the highest heights.


    She climbed up the gray stone blocks, quickly but carefully, at times forcibly digging her nails into the stone for handholds. People from the Clan of the Dragon had immeasurably strong and sharp nails; a natural result of constantly taking in the flesh and blood of dragon hatchlings and dragonlings.


    She scaled the wall, and reached the fortified top, slipping between the battlements.


    Once she climbed through, she eyed everything quickly- left, right, up and down.


    The other side of the battlements looked down on the same yard she¡¯d observed from outside the gate, and for that she was immeasurably glad.


    She¡¯d only seen six of the gnolls, but tucked in the corners there were several more. She¡¯d have faced at least ten if she¡¯d attacked from the front.


    She drew an arrow and nocked it, and, while still crouched, scooted cautiously across the battlements. There was a much larger part that looked over the gates; she headed there and sat down and did something her father often complained that she didn¡¯t do enough of; she thought.


    With her bow, she could kill several of the gnolls in the yard, but then what? Were there many ways up here to the battlements?


    It made sense for the walls to be patrolled. That meant that there had to be ways up the walls that weren¡¯t nearly as creative as her way up. There was one all the way across the yard, a ramp of stone stairs that joined the walkway that eventually wrapped around where she was. Was there one on this side as well?


    She couldn¡¯t tell.


    She peeked over the wall and eyed the gnolls again. She had a clear line of sight on all of them.


    ¡°For Caidi-¡± she croaked- unaware she¡¯d spoken aloud.


    She picked her first target and let fly, and then ducked back behind one of the stone battlements as she listened to the whinney-like laugh of the gnolls below.


    She peeked again and after a long moment picked another target, drew and released in a smooth motion. That one dropped, and then she dropped another, who fell to the earth, screaming and scraping at the ground in the yard with its brutal claws as its lifeblood gushed from a gaping wound in its neck.


    Suddenly they started screaming and milling around; she scuttled across the battlements and hid, worried that she¡¯d been spotted.


    *****


    Sheilah¡¯s arrow ripped through the throat of one and pinched into the guts of a second; a lucky shot.


    There was now even more of the damned things, and they waved battered swords and spears as they searched for whatever it was that was killing them.


    Several of them got into a fight, at first flailing about at each other with swords, but eventually casting them aside in favor of teeth and claws.


    They snarled and ripped at each other, blackened blood splattering, broken yellow teeth flashing.


    She watched them fight until there was only one left, and was about to reward the winner with an arrow when it toppled over, groaning and thrashing.


    She took a shaky breath, and then a second; then refocused her attention on the rest of the training yard.


    There were at least fifty gnolls down there, just in the yard alone. She didn¡¯t have nearly enough arrows. She¡¯d need at least four times the amount of arrows she had at the start, and that was assuming they obediently let her shoot them.


    The remaining gnolls fell on the corpses of their fallen and savagely ripped them apart; Sheilah watched their grotesque cannibalism with a horrified look on her face.


    A much larger, more muscular gnoll came out of the keep, then. It was massive. She¡¯d never seen a gnoll that huge before. It looked as if it could have torn apart a dragonling with its bare hands. Not only did it wear bits of leather and battered metal armor, strange designs were scrawled all over it, swirls and zigzags. Feathers from hunting hawks dangled from its snarled and matted fur, along with what looked like claws, bits of stone, and pieces of what looked like bits from a Glass Spider.


    Strange black mist curled from its claws as it looked over the milling mass of its brethren.


    It let out a heavy bark, and many of the gnolls went inside the keep. It gestured with its mangled paws and whiplike extrusions of that mysterious black smoke lashed at the others that weren¡¯t quick enough to obey.


    Whatever was touched by that strange smoke rotted away; the gnolls afflicted by it screamed in pure pain even as their flesh rotted off of their bodies in rancid slush, revealing decaying, crumbling yellow bones beneath.


    Sheilah raised up, aimed carefully and fired; the arrow punched into the thing¡¯s face and it screamed and tore the arrow free, even as she launched a second shot that caught it in the throat.


    The gigantic gnoll tore that one free as well, heedless of the freshets of black blood that splashed down its body. Sheilah launched arrow after arrow at the thing, each arrow finding a vulnerable spot in its neck, throat, head, and even its eye.


    Still, it contemptuously tore each arrow out of its body.


    Its eye rolled Sheilah¡¯s way, and it raised its hands and the black smoke lashed out at her. She threw herself backwards and saw the extrusions of smoke wrap around the stone block she¡¯d been near flake and crumble away. She skittered back on her ass as the black substance snaked across the ground in pursuit of her, eroding the stone as it advanced relentlessly.


    She kicked with her feet and pushed with her hands, finally in an ecstasy of self-preservation, she heaved herself over and ran as hard as she could to the spot that she¡¯d climbed up.


    After that her dream- or her memory- grew hazy, disjointed. There was screaming, there was darkness, and there was fire. Endless fire, fire that flowed and seared and roared with all the ferocity of a dragon.


    *****


    This morning, she awoke from her nightmare and opened her eyes to see that she was only a few inches away from one of the more deadly venomous snakes that made the Redstone its home.


    She had a vague and dim memory of crawling under the cleft of a boulder and curling up in a tight ball to preserve body heat the night previous; apparently the snake had decided to do the same.


    She bit back a scream, bunched her hands into tight fists, and desperately tried to figure out a way to live. She was absurdly aware that her toes were clenched and curled in her tattered shoes as she desperately tried to make no movement to provoke the deadly predator.


    The blunt head of the snake¡¯s head lifted up; she could see its forked tongue tasting the air as it quested back and forth slowly.


    Miraculously, it turned away from her and slithered out into the morning sun.


    Once it was well and truly gone, she crawled out herself and stretched in the sun, feeling the dry wind chill and then dry the rivulets of sweat on her skin.


    The terror of her immediate death had returned lucidity; she looked around herself, briefly wondering where she was.

 Chapter 9

    The morning was Sheilah¡¯s favorite type of morning- the air was cool and crisp and dry, the sunlight was warm and featherlight, warring with the breeze for dominance.


    The Redstone formations this far north were a deeper, more vibrant red than they were at the Dragon¡¯s Terrace. It¡¯d been some time since she¡¯d really been aware of who she was or even where she was, so she looked around herself carefully while checking the knife at her belt.


    Her clothes were ragged and tattered, the light leather worn and shredded.


    ¡°Ugh.¡± She muttered, fingering the ragged remains of her shirt. There were parts that looked ... clawed, and one of her sleeves was scorched. How had that happened?


    Her mind shied away from the memory, so she shook her head and gave it a thump with the heel of her head.


    ¡°Breakfast.¡± She muttered to herself, and then froze as something caught her eye.


    The Redstone was a maze of spires and canyons and wide open spaces, tufts of sage and other plants struggling for a tenuous foothold in the unforgiving soil. This far north, plants were few and far between, many of them carnivorous, poisonous, or both.


    What caught her eye wasn¡¯t the plants, however. What caught her eye was a massive spire that seemed to stretch all the way to the heavens. The top was scorched and melted, black char staining its top.


    ¡°Adlan¡¯s Rest.¡± She muttered to herself in wonder.


    Adlan was her great-great-grandfather, and a legend in his own right. He¡¯d known more about dragons than any other of the Clan, and he had been the last to follow the Ancient Ways. She picked up her quiver and slung her bow over her shoulder and began to climb.


    *****


    The spire was nubby and filled with hand and footholds; climbing it would not be a problem for anyone, even someone who wasn¡¯t from the Clan of the Dragon. She scaled it easily, hands and feet finding easy purchase until she reached the top.


    She pulled herself up and from the top of the spire, she had uninterrupted vistas in every direction, like her dreams. She could even see the pinnacles where those of the reclusive Thunderbird Clan made their homes.


    Her mind went hazy, and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, her chest tightening. She wanted- needed- something. She was suddenly seized with a desperate sense of urgency and an overwhelming feeling of being incomplete, as if part of her was missing an essential component- more, a grievous sense of loss, a loss so deeply personal and profound that it felt as though her heart was being torn from her chest.


    She didn¡¯t notice the tears streaming down her face, or the trickle of blood from her nose as she screamed, screamed with all the grief and fury of her soul.


    *****


    She vaguely remembered climbing down from the spire, slipping a few times, scraping her knee, bumping her elbow.


    ¡°Dragons are great at climbing up; not so great at climbing down.¡± She muttered, quoting Fialla.


    Adlan, a hero recognized not only by the Dragons, but by all of the clans in the Redstone, had loved his wife dearly, and her loss had unmade him. According to the legend, he¡¯d climbed this spire and let the power of the Dragon consume him.


    Sheilah trembled and shook as she stumbled away from the spire, her knees wobbled, her eyes wandered and it was difficult to hold on to her bow because her hands were slimy with sweat. She wiped her nose and stared as her hand came away bloody.


    She wondered what she was doing all the way out here.


    ¡°...dragonlings. Right.¡± She muttered to herself, absently wiping the blood off on her pants leg. She looked around her area for places where a dragonling might go to roost, but there didn¡¯t seem to be any of the usual places where a dragonling might sun or rest.


    Where was she?


    *****


    She returned to her camp at the boulder she¡¯d chosen to sleep under, and without warning, a trickle of icy cold sweat slid down her back and she froze as her skin crawled. She immediately squatted where she was, and looked around as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it on her bow.


    She couldn¡¯t see it, but she knew, could feel something just out there. She eyed her camp carefully.


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    Was it one of the hive lizards?


    She eyed the sky. No hunting eagles in the sky.


    The plants were poisonous, but only if eaten. They didn¡¯t stir, there was no wind.


    Nothing crawled or slithered on the ground, nothing patrolled the skies, so where was this inexplicable sense of danger coming from?


    She strained her senses to the max, desperate to figure out exactly what it was that stalked her.


    One of the shadows at the top of the boulder shifted and she suddenly realized that it wasn¡¯t a shadow, it was a pattern of mottled red and black.


    She struggled to keep it in her vision, it was hard to see where the boulder left off and the beast- whatever it was- began.


    She raised her bow and drew it smoothly- when had it become so easy to draw?- aimed, and released.


    The arrow hurtled across the intervening space and slammed into the animal, which let out a screech of pain.


    The beast rose up, and as it did, Sheilah¡¯s eyes grew wide with shock and she took a startled breath. It was a dragonling, and it somehow had the ability to change its color.


    She fumbled another arrow from her bow and released; the second arrow punched through the dragon¡¯s mouth and lodged in there somewhere.


    Sheilah tossed her bow to the side and charged forward, yanking her knife free from her belt.


    After she completed the necessary ritual of drinking its blood and eating its heart, she began skinning the thing.


    She wasn¡¯t certain if the hide was particularly valuable, or if it would even continue to change its color after the beast was dead, but a red hide would be striking to look at, since dragonling hide was mostly shades of gray in striated patterns. Dragonhide was usually dark charcoal black with regular spots of yellow and orange that seemed to glow like embers.


    Along the back of the dragon were plates, metallic scales that acted as armor. This was unrefined Dragon Metal- as whelplings matured into dragonlings and further into dragons, they refined metal in their bodies that eventually ended up in their scales. Those scales could be refined into metal that could then be turned into tools.


    She dug her knife into them, levering them off and setting them to the side. Part of the preparations one made before their trip into the Ashlands for their hunt was to collect them for tool forging.


    As she worked, she cut strips of meat from the dragonling for food, sometimes stuffing a raw strip into her mouth as she worked.


    She cut one of the dragonling¡¯s teeth from its mouth and stuffed it into her pouch, rolled up the hide and tied it tightly, tucked the plate-like scales into her pack, scuffed some dirt and gravel over her firepit, and left.


    *****


    There was something important she needed to do. She couldn¡¯t remember what it was, so she set her mind to think about what it was while she let her feet find her path.


    She was deep in thought when it occurred to her that she was being stalked.


    Her head came up alertly.


    She was being watched.


    She stilled her breathing, trying to pin down the sensation. Which direction was it coming from? Above? Behind?


    Things seemed to come together slowly. Where was she? Something was coming for her.


    Where was her bow? Knife?


    It would take too long to ready her bow. Her knife, then.


    Something was coming for her.


    Danger.


    She shifted her position, feet digging in the grit of the gravel. She was ready to launch herself away.


    Away?


    Why?


    Wasn¡¯t she a Dragon?


    There wasn¡¯t anything that didn¡¯t bow before the might of a Dragon.


    She took a deep breath, readying herself. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen soon; a matter of heartbeats.


    Something launched itself at her; she shoved the ground with her legs, but her feet slipped in the gravel. Still, she managed to push off and roll a couple of feet.


    Something grappled with her, a blow slammed into her wrist, knocking it numb and forcing her to drop her knife.


    She twisted; somehow she¡¯d lost the ability to see; everything had gone dark in her vision. It didn¡¯t matter; she could somehow sense what was going on.


    Something slammed into her again; she tried to push herself away, but suddenly she felt the familiar sensation of a classic arm-lock and again, she knew what was going to happen: a classic shoulder toss.


    She slammed into the dirt on her back and suddenly the sky was bright and a painful blue.


    An elven woman appeared in front of her; Sheilah reacted by instinct, hand balling into a fist. She tried to swing, and discovered her arm had been pinned. When had that happened?


    She let out a wordless scream of fury and struggled, twisting, jack-knifing, and squirming as violently as she could to get whatever was atop her off.


    Something was shouting, trying to cut through her screams, she paid it no mind as she tried to get some leverage, some movement so that she could at least use her nails. She would not go down without a fight. She was of the Clan of the Dragon. Her father was the Patriarch of the Clan of the Dragon. She was of the First Blood. She had the blood of heroes and legends flowing through her veins. She would not submit to anything.


    Something slammed into her head with a hollow crack and her mouth dropped open as a wave of dizziness and disorientation washed over her. What had happened? She raised her head, and something slammed into her head again. Everything was a bleary smear of colors and a hollow ringing in her ears.


    Her head hit the dirt as darkness claimed her.

 Chapter 10

    Sheilah opened her eyes, headache pounding dully behind her eyes.


    Her body groaned and ached with exhaustion; she hadn¡¯t slept well since she¡¯d left the Terrace of the Dragon.


    How long ago had that been?


    She reached and gingerly touched the swelling lump on her head. Whatever- whoever- had hit her had known how to do it.


    The Clans were not always harmonious. There were deeply bitter feuds between them, and only worked together reluctantly- and at the behest of the Dragon Clan.


    She was surprised that a Clan would venture this far north when it wasn¡¯t even time for the prospective adults to venture north into the Ashlands.


    She turned her head.


    She looked up at her friend with a dazed expression.


    ¡°What is it, Fialla?¡± She croaked.


    ¡°Are you awake?¡± The other girl asked cautiously.


    ¡°I¡¯m always awake.¡± Sheilah rasped. ¡°Are you going to headbutt me again?¡±


    ¡°Are you going to try to kill me again?¡± Fialla retorted.


    Sheilah grunted, and winced at the feeling of her throat feeling shredded.


    ¡°I hurt everywhere.¡± She complained.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t slept in some time.¡± Fialla agreed.


    Sheilah nodded, rubbing her head where the elven girl had headbutted her. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept well... since.¡± She shook her head a little and immediately regretted it.


    Fialla gave her a compassionate smile. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t it have been me?¡± Sheilah pleaded plaintively.


    Fialla embraced her without saying anything. They lay like that for what seemed like eternity, each embracing the other.


    Fialla wiped at the crusted dragonling blood on Sheilah¡¯s face with a finger.


    ¡°You should probably take a bath. How long do you think you¡¯ve been out here?¡± She asked curiously.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you been following me?¡± Sheilah asked, vaguely aware that she¡¯d been followed here and there during her rambling hunts across the Redstone.


    ¡°You caught me.¡± Fialla replied, and then affectionately kissed Sheilah¡¯s cheek. ¡°We¡¯re not far from a pool. Shall we take a dip?¡± She asked solicitously.


    Sheilah took a breath and all the days and weeks of her relentless hunting seemed to catch up with her.


    ¡°I think if I do, I¡¯ll fall asleep in the water.¡± She replied, her body suddenly heavy with exhaustion.


    Fialla laughed a little. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you don¡¯t drown.¡± She promised, and then pulled away.


    ¡°You know your father asked me to skin the dragonlings you hunted and bring back the hides?¡± Fialla asked, tapping her thumb against her dragon-tooth dagger at her hip. ¡°I think he¡¯s making your armor.¡±


    Dragonling hide armor. It took months to make. Sheilah blinked. Just how long had she been wandering?


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯ve been skinning them?¡± She asked, confused.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°You haven¡¯t been doing that at all.¡± she accused. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to do that, you know.¡±


    Sheilah did know. It was important to skin the dragonlings you hunted. Dragonling hides would be cured and tanned into leather, that leather would be turned into armor that would be worn into the Ashlands.


    How had she missed something so important?


    ¡°Thank you, Fialla.¡± Sheilah thanked her friend.


    ¡°It was nothing. I got my share of dragonlings, too.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°So, about that pool?¡±


    ¡°Pool?¡± Sheilah asked, struggling to a sitting position.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone else knows of it.¡± Fialla confided, rising to her feet. ¡°It¡¯s in one of the box canyons that¡¯s not far from here.¡± She pointed.


    ¡°Box-¡± Sheilah started, and then glared at Fialla. ¡°You know those things are death traps.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid.¡± She defended herself while slapping the dirt from her hands. ¡°I checked out everything very carefully.¡±


    Sheilah let out a sigh and pushed herself up, staunchly trying to ignore the ugly, sick pounding in her head.


    ¡°Lead on.¡±


    *****


    Fialla led Sheilah into a cave where the air was heavy and thick with moisture, a pool of water, warm to the touch, bubbled gently.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± Sheilah asked, her head spinning.


    ¡°I found it when I was tracking you. I don¡¯t know if anyone knows it¡¯s here.¡± Fialla replied, indifferently stripping off her dusty leathers and climbing into the pool. She kept her dagger and her belt pouch close to hand.


    Danger lurked in the redstone valleys everywhere.


    Sheilah stripped out of her clothes self-consciously, suddenly reminded of the sorry state of them.


    ¡°If you turn around and lean back in the water, I¡¯ll wash your hair for you.¡± Fallia offered, and Sheilah complied. How long had it been since she¡¯d even done something like that? Dirt and small bits of twigs and leaves spread out in the water.


    ¡°There you go, you certainly look better with clean hair.¡± Fialla murmured as she worked her fingers on Sheilah¡¯s scalp.


    ¡°How long...¡± Sheilah asked, and then swallowed. ¡°How long have I been out here?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Fialla murmured as her hands moved to Sheilah¡¯s shoulders, digging into the muscles, releasing knots of tension she didn¡¯t even know she had. ¡°You¡¯ve been here hunting dragonlings enough to make the entire Clan wonder if you planned to hunt every dragonling in the Redstone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not really an answer.¡± Sheilah argued, sitting up and nearly losing her footing. The nearly-boiling water had relaxed her body enough that it didn¡¯t seem to want to function properly.


    ¡°Months.¡± Fialla replied simply. ¡°You¡¯ve hunted enough dragonlings that I¡¯ve lost count.¡±


    Most of the Clans understood simple math. Anything roughly above twenty was considered ¡°a lot¡±, and it mostly revolved around tribes. A tribe could only afford to feed so many families, so when a tribe grew to ¡°a lot¡±, it was divided.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.At least twenty dragonlings over the course of... months. It was only necessary to hunt that many between the ages of ten and sixteen- before you headed to the Ashlands. Traditionally, it was one dragonling for every year you¡¯d lived, though you no longer needed to hunt them after your dragon hunt.


    ¡°Where... where am I?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    ¡°You''re near the passes that lead into the wastes.¡± Fialla answered honestly. ¡°I was worried you would head into the Ashlands, so I made my move.¡±


    Sheilah immediately moved to retort ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I head into the Ashlands?¡± but eyed her leathers. Her simple clothing wouldn¡¯t stand up to the harsh environment of the Ashlands.


    A wave of dizziness and exhaustion washed over her. She was going to fall asleep in the water if she wasn¡¯t careful.


    ¡°So far.¡± Sheilah muttered in awe. It would take months to return to the Terrace of the Dragon.


    ¡°Will you... will you come home with me?¡± Fialla asked. ¡°By now your father has made your armor.¡±


    ¡°I think...¡± Sheilah muttered thickly, the hot springs waters loosening her tension, ¡°I think...¡± She tried again, and fell asleep in Fialla¡¯s arms.


    *****


    Fialla chuckled, and carefully lifted Sheilah from the water, staggering against the uncertain footing.


    Fialla was Sheilah¡¯s shadow, had been since childhood. Whatever Sheilah did, Fialla was quick to duplicate. Fialla was strong and quick and flexible, and when Sheilah began her death march through the Redstone Valleys, Fialla followed after.


    She hadn¡¯t hunted nearly as many dragonlings as the relentless, dead-eyed girl she loved and idolized with all of her heart, but between skinning and carrying hides back and forth from Sheilah¡¯s rampage, she¡¯d proved herself an excellent and efficient hunter.


    She hoped that when it was time to go into the wastes, she would be able to go with Sheilah.


    She ran out of the cave, her lithe, coltish legs scissoring in the moonlight as she dashed to her cache of goods she kept with her as she stalked Sheilah. Retrieving it and hurrying back to the cave, she wrapped Sheilah and herself into the bedroll and dreamed sweet dreams of Sheilah that made her heart ache.


    *****


    Sheilah dreamed once again of the Tyrant Dragon looming over everything, its enormous eyes pitiless orbs of unlimited fury and flame, and all of the Dragon Clan ancestors inexorably walking past her to collect Caidi.


    A dream she hadn¡¯t had in... how long?


    She opened her eyes and was confronted with the tip of one of Fialla¡¯s ears and a drift of the half-elves¡¯ hair, glossy black like hers.


    The Wild Elves and Half-elves all had silvery-white hair except those that had become part of the dragon clan. When you fed on the flesh of the dragon, it changed you. Your nails and hair turned glossy black.


    Fialla¡¯s breathing was slow and steady, and Sheilah could feel Fialla¡¯s heartbeat next to hers.


    Even though they were nearly the same age, days apart, Fialla seemed to behave like the younger of the two of them, trailing after Sheilah like a shadow, learning and copying everything Sheilah did.


    It must have been hard for the half-elven girl to keep up with Sheilah. Sheilah was a full-blooded human. She was taller and stronger than the lithe girl. She hesitantly ran her hand down Fialla¡¯s back and the half-elven girl mumbled something incomprehensible.


    There was no doubt about it; Fialla¡¯s back was corded with muscle. The girl had been struggling to keep up with her.


    She struggled free of the smaller girl¡¯s embrace, kindled a small fire, eyed Fialla¡¯s rations and grimaced in disgust. The nutrient-rich blocks of corn, meat, fruits and nuts no longer appealed to her. She climbed out of the small cave and into the sunlight, her stomach rumbling.


    She wanted- The thought of killing a dragonling, savagely hacking out its heart and eating it, drinking its blood, smearing it all over herself, tearing into the meat, digging her teeth into the raw flesh-


    She blinked and shook her head.


    She was human. She wasn¡¯t a beast. She needed to return home.


    She eyed the passages that would lead into the Ashlands, and then turned her head to look back towards the Redstone Valleys.


    Which of them was her home, though?


    ¡°It¡¯s a happy sight to see you up and awake, Sheilah, but I think you should get dressed.¡± Fialla called out from behind her.


    Sheilah blinked a few times, and looked down at herself. Her thoughts seemed to be especially sluggish this morning.


    Clothes.


    She needed her weapons. No one should be this far into the Redstone Valley without a weapon close at hand. Several, really.


    ¡°Clothes.¡± She repeated dully, and then nodded. ¡°Right.¡±


    She suddenly shifted her foot and stomped down; a lizard squirmed beneath her foot. She plucked it up from the ground, effortlessly ripped off its head with her clawlike fingernails, and while dropping the head into the sandy dirt she bit into the body.


    Fialla eyed Sheila with a mixture of shock, admiration and a certain amount of disgust and revulsion. The lizard Sheilah had stepped on was known for its extremely venomous bite and its blurring running speed. For the girl to stomp on it and rip its head off was both shocking and admirable. However, seeing the girl bite into the thing¡¯s body, chomping into its innards hungrily- this was not a thing to admire. It was savage and disgusting.


    There was something else, too. A thin golden ring burned around Sheilah¡¯s eyes that was bright in the dark.

 Chapter 11

    Once back inside the grotto, Sheilah eyed the individual pieces of clothing she¡¯d worn since... She couldn¡¯t remember. Months? Did it matter? She couldn¡¯t figure out how to put them on. It seemed like she¡¯d been putting clothes on for years, but for the life of her she couldn¡¯t remember how to dress herself anymore.


    She ran her tongue over her lips; the bitter, metallic taste of the lizard was good. The thin and brittle crunch of its bones against her teeth was good. The feeling of its meat and innards sliding down her throat was good.


    ¡°Sheilah.¡± Fialla called, and Sheilah blinked again, struggling to keep a coherent thought in her head.


    She turned back to look at the half-elven girl curiously.


    ¡°Clothes?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Right.¡±


    Sheilah struggled into her clothes, berating herself mentally. She knew how to put on clothes. She¡¯d been dressing herself since before she could remember. It was easy. She helped Fialla pack up her bedroll, and struggled to eat one of the girl¡¯s travel rations.


    ¡°As expected, it¡¯s not very tasty.¡± She muttered with a grimace.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably better than that lizard you ate, at least.¡± Fialla chided. Sheilah blinked at that. Had she eaten a lizard? When? Where?


    Her head was dizzy, and it was difficult to concentrate. It felt... weird... to be herself. To exist within her own skin, to hear her own thoughts after so long.


    After so long? Fialla had said ¡®months¡¯, but that was so vague. How long was that?


    There was a pair of bundles that was a part of Sheilah¡¯s belongings that she couldn¡¯t identify by sight alone. What were they? She opened the drawstring on one and blinked a few times at what greeted her; the sack bulged with dragonling teeth.


    ¡°Whuh.¡± She muttered. She¡¯d only needed a few dragonling teeth before her necklace was full and complete. She cinched the drawstring bag up, packed her things up, and turned to Fialla, who was doing the same.


    ¡°You were really chasing me all over the Redstone?¡± She asked after a bit.


    The half-elf nodded. ¡°I was asked to.¡± She replied simply. ¡°I¡¯d¡¯ve done it anyway; someone has to keep an eye on you, after all.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s expression soured. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Sheilah asked, a touch of petulance and irritation in her voice.


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember? I watched your fight with that dragon.¡± She replied. ¡°The one you killed with your knife.¡±


    ¡°That was...¡± Sheilah started, but let it go. ¡°Was it really a full-grown dragon?¡± She asked.


    Fialla shook her head. ¡°Almost.¡± She replied. ¡°That¡¯s what your father told my father. There were a lot of questions as to how something that huge managed to get so deep into Clan lands.¡± She finished.


    Sheilah nodded. Something that big shouldn¡¯t have happened. Someone should have said something. If a Glass Spider were to wander through Dragon territory, they¡¯d immediately report it to the Glass Spider clan. Part of it was politics, but the main reason was the simplest: Killing another clan¡¯s totem animal was offensive.


    ¡°I have something for you, by the way.¡± Fialla took out a small pouch and emptied the contents. ¡°Father says there is turquoise in the Redstone, though I¡¯ve never seen it.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°The Timberwolf clan sometimes trades a few pieces, the same way we trade Dragon Metal.¡±


    ¡°Father says that We- that is to say, the Wild Elves- had turquoise in our lands before the High Elves and Dark Elves took our lands from us.¡± Fialla said, and offered Sheilah a short necklace. It was a simple leather thong with a turquoise bead in the middle. The bead was a sinuous teardrop shape, and had a hole bored through the larger part.


    ¡°My father helped me make this.¡± Fialla mentioned as she spooled it in her hand. ¡°It¡¯s turquoise, like the kind found here, but from the Wild Elf homeland, across the sea.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a sea?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    The half-elven girl laughed. ¡°That was my first question to my father, when he told me about the Wild Elf homelands. He told me it¡¯s like a great big lake, but so big you can¡¯t see the other side.¡±


    Sheilah tried to imagine it, but shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine it.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Me either.¡±


    What was Fialla doing?


    ¡°Among the elves, something like this is given to a family member or a very close friend.¡± She explained, her milk-chocolate skin blushing heavily.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Sheilah grew more and more alarmed at Fialla¡¯s behavior, remembering her affectionate embrace and kiss from the day prior. It seemed more and more like her friend had deeper feelings for her than she¡¯d realized.


    She moved to sit down, but realized she was sitting down already. She took a breath.


    ¡°Is this something I should...¡± She paused. She didn¡¯t know how to ask, and it was an incredibly awkward question, anyway.


    ¡°I mean, do I need to give you an iron knife?¡± She managed to ask, even as her heart pounded in her chest and her face heated up.


    Fialla returned an awkward laugh, blushing just as heavily.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s a different gift entirely.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°I just... I think of you as my sister, that¡¯s all.¡± She added.


    Sheilah nodded, and tied the necklace around her neck. Clearly she really was reading too much into Fialla¡¯s intentions. In Adlan''s time- the time of her great-great grandfather- husbands gave their wives an iron knife.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do that anyway, until you kill a dragon.¡± Fialla pointed out as they exited the cave.


    Sheilah looked around. She was immeasurably close to the Ashlands. All she had to do was cross the passes. Was it possible that she¡¯d been working herself up to cross the passes and chase down a dragon?


    ¡°I think I¡¯m nearly ready.¡± She muttered. She suddenly glanced at Fialla and her face flushed again. ¡°To hunt a dragon, I mean.¡±


    Fialla offered her a look. ¡°Well, you¡¯d need your dragonling armor, but I think you could do it.¡± Fialla encouraged. ¡°A dragonbone bow with dragon-tooth arrows, I think you could definitely pierce the hide of a dragon.¡± She exclaimed.


    Sheilah eyed her arrows curiously. How many teeth had she used for arrowheads? She felt for her necklace at her throat and discovered it was filled. One of her sacks bulged with teeth already ground to arrowhead points. When had she done that?


    ¡°Apparently I¡¯ve been very busy.¡± She muttered to herself.


    Fialla scratched her cheek with a finger. ¡°You really have.¡±


    Sheilah remembered something from their conversation the night previous. ¡°You said that you¡¯ve been skinning them?¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°You didn¡¯t seem too interested in them, but dragonling hide is important, Sheilah.¡± She paused, and then added, ¡°You¡¯ll need at least that much armor when you head into the Ashlands.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head and smiled. ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard the stories of my father, Fialla?¡± She asked. ¡°Apparently he went into the wastes and killed a dragon without armor.¡±


    Fialla shook her head. ¡°Right, and he defeated the dragon by kicking a rock on its head.¡± She rolled her eyes, showing her belief in the credulity of the story.


    Sheilah laughed, warming up to the tale. ¡°He climbed atop the cave where the dragon was making its lair, waited for the dragon to come out, and kicked a boulder off the top of the cave to knock it out. Then he killed the dragon.¡±


    They traded the usual series of tall tales, stories, myths and legends back and forth, stories they¡¯d practically taken in with their mother¡¯s milk.


    The first man of the Clan of the Dragon, the primogenitor was supposedly immortal and barely human. The Dragon Clan were his descendants, and Davian was the direct inheritor of his blood.


    There was a story of an ancient clan member that grew dragon wings, there was one that could regenerate any wound, no matter how grievous. Heroes and villains, tyrants and kings, and each of them had marched into the Ashlands, the Burning Wastes, had killed a dragon and returned.


    Sheilah was almost ready. She could feel it. She¡¯d craft her set of dragonling armor, forge a set of tools for everyone in her family from Dragon Metal, take one of her family¡¯s weapons into the Dragonlands, and face a dragon.


    ¡°You¡¯re planning on turning around and heading into the passes, aren¡¯t you?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°...sort of.¡± Sheilah admitted. ¡°I have to face tradition, first.¡±


    ¡°I never understood the point of forging tools.¡± Fialla offered with a disgusted frown.


    Sheilah rubbed her chin and ignored the gnawing rumble in her stomach that demanded food as she thought.


    ¡°I have a guess.¡± She offered.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hear it.¡± Fialla eagerly pestered Sheilah.


    ¡°If you die, that¡¯s one less person to till crops, butcher animals, prepare food, so on and so forth. It¡¯s an apology for dying.¡± Sheilah offered.


    Fialla frowned. ¡°That sounds incredibly stupid.¡±


    Sheilah shrugged. ¡°You remember that I did say it was a guess.¡± She took an exaggerated swing at Fialla, who dodged adroitly.


    Fialla looked up at the sun, and shielded her face. ¡°It¡¯s going to take weeks to get home. Maybe a month.¡±


    ¡°You said I was gone for longer than that.¡± Sheilah observed, though she thought she knew the answer already.


    ¡°You roamed around a lot- and I mean a lot. You barely slept.¡±


    Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°You ... even went to the forbidden places, so... you¡¯ll probably be punished.¡±


    There were three ¡°forbidden areas¡± in the Redstone Cliffs. There was the Tower, the Castle, and the Town. Stormheim had tried to forcibly occupy the Redstone Valley several decades prior, and they had left their mark on the Valley.


    They built a town to educate the ¡®savages¡¯ and give them jobs so that they could be useful and productive members of society.


    They built a keep with towers and imposing stone walls to garrison soldiers- ostensibly to prevent things from the volcanic wastes to the north spilling into the civilized lands to the south- but really it was emplaced to make sure the civilized barbarians stayed civilized.


    Finally, as an insult to the Totems, they built a great Tower for the study of magic.


    Each of them- the town, the keep, the tower, each of them were considered forbidden places.


    There was nothing good that could come from visiting such places, and it was possible a great deal of harm could come from visiting them, so the Council of the Clans had decided to label them as ¡°forbidden¡±.


    Besides, who wanted anything that had to do with Stormheim?

 Chapter 12

    Sheilah squatted, wiped her forehead, took a sip of water from Fialla¡¯s canteen, and considered what might happen. The greatest punishment was exile. Family was everything in the Redstone. To be abandoned, to be alone, to have even your Totem stripped from you was the worst punishment. In the face of such a thing, death was preferable.


    At first, she considered asking Fialla to keep her secret, but it was quite likely that other people had seen her do these things.


    ¡°Should I turn around and head for the Wastes now?¡± Sheilah asked despondently. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what the criminals do? Head to the Wastes to plead their case before their totems in the hopes that they will be redeemed at least in their eyes?¡±


    ¡°You seem bent on heading to the Ashlands, Sheilah. I think you should meet with your father and figure out where you stand before you go rushing headlong into danger.¡± Fialla disputed.


    ¡°There¡¯s no chance that I¡¯m not a criminal, Fialla.¡± Sheilah replied, rising from her squat and continuing the long trek home.


    *****


    A month and a half later, the two girls stumbled into camp. Davian eyed them both with a careful eye, and took them both inside his family¡¯s tent.


    ¡°Good job finding my wayward daughter.¡± He offered to Fialla. ¡°We¡¯ll have a small feast to celebrate her return, of course. If you like, I¡¯ll give you the first cut.¡±


    First cut was exactly what it meant. Whatever animal they killed, chicken, sheep, pig, goat, whatever, when they sat down to eat, she would be able to choose for herself the most delicious part of the meat for herself.


    ¡°This is ... sudden.¡± Fialla stammered.


    ¡°We were expecting a different reception altogether.¡± Sheilah added.


    ¡°Well... True.¡± He allowed reluctantly. It was obvious that there was a great deal that he wanted to say, but couldn¡¯t... or wouldn¡¯t. When Fialla glanced at Sheilah, she could see the same thing in Sheilah¡¯s face as well. Davian and Sheilah eyed each other as complete strangers.


    ¡°Drink your fill from the jug, and when you¡¯re done, go and show your face to your parents. I¡¯m sure that they¡¯d love to see you after so long.¡± Davian offered to Fialla.


    Fialla, recognizing it wasn¡¯t a suggestion or a request but an order, immediately moved to the water jug by the door. That one was offered to guests, to wash their face and hands, and to drink.


    ¡°Not that one, the one by the fire.¡± Davian corrected Fialla, without turning his back. He continued to eye Sheilah speculatively, a hard glint in his eye. Strangely, Sheilah was doing the same with him. She sat calmly, loosely, hands in her lap, but her eyes were intently focused on his, and that brilliant ring around her irises was back.


    The jug by the fire was used by the family. Fialla washed her hands, splashed water on her face and cleaned herself with the towel, and headed to her family¡¯s place.


    Davian rubbed his chin. ¡°She was probably upset, no matter how welcoming I was, but I guess there¡¯s just too much going on for her to think in any way that she¡¯s safe.¡± he remarked after Fialla left.


    ¡°Is she?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°Of course. She was quite insistent on following you, and so even if you did go where it¡¯s forbidden to go, she¡¯s safe.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± Sheilah asked.


    He suddenly smiled. ¡°That is a good question. That depends entirely on you, I should think. Are you safe?¡±


    *****


    ¡°I have a lot of questions for you.¡± Sheilah began, but Davian shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to understand my question, daughter: are you safe? Are you safe to be around? Can I bring my wives and daughters in here, in the same tent where you are right now?¡±


    Sheilah blinked a few times in confusion. ¡°What? What? What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Exactly what it¡¯s meant to mean, Sheilah. You¡¯ve been eating the dragonlings, haven¡¯t you?¡± he asked, tapping his finger against his eye, and then pointing at her.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asked, confused.


    He got up and moved to Ladria- her mother¡¯s- area of the tent. Ladria and Mayrin were both Wild Elves, but they treated her as their daughter, and she had always treated the both of them as her mothers. It did raise the question of who her actual mother was, but it was enough that she had a family.


    He rummaged around in a chest, and took out Ladria''s mirror and proffered it to her.


    She could see the thin but visible ring of molten gold running around her irises.


    ¡°What is this?¡± She breathed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± He asked curiously and held out his hand for the mirror. She passed it back, and he set it aside carefully.


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    He sighed and closed his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s the power of the Tyrant.¡± He opened his eyes, and from the edge of his pupils to the edge of his iris was suddenly molten flame. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. ¡°To the world... and to the other clans, we are the clan of the Dragon. But the Dragon is Supremacy, the power of absolute authority that rejects everything else but its own might. That is tyranny, Sheilah, and so, to the other Clans, we are the Clan of the Dragon, but amongst ourselves, we are the Clan of the Tyrant.¡±


    He opened his eyes, and they were normal again. ¡° So tell me... have you noticed any other changes?¡±


    She gave him a baffled look. ¡°You¡¯re the one that pointed out that change. And to answer you... I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Can you breathe fire?¡± He asked. ¡°You know that we can breathe fire.¡±


    She nodded. She was there at Caidi¡¯s funeral.


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    ¡°No fire.¡± She replied.


    ¡°Anything?¡± He prompted.


    She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m always hungry.¡±


    He threw back his head and laughed at that, startling her. ¡°Of course you are. You¡¯re constantly filling yourself with the power of the Dragon. You¡¯re probably burning your food as fast as you can eat it because you¡¯re not controlling it.¡± He decided. ¡°If you can stop this, you can get your appetite under control.¡±


    She blinked a few times. ¡°Really?¡±


    He nodded easily. ¡°Sure. You just need to control it.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± She immediately asked.


    His mouth twisted at that. ¡°It¡¯s not a thing that can be taught like farming or forgework, Sheilah. You have to learn how to let it go yourself.¡±


    She glowered at him, and he waved his hand in her face. ¡°Your Supremacy is weak, daughter. It won¡¯t work on me. Close your eyes and think on how to release the power of the Tyrant.¡±


    She obediently closed her eyes. ¡°I seem to keep finding excuses to head north.¡± She finally admitted.


    He nodded at that. ¡°It¡¯s time for you to begin your Hunt. We¡¯ll get you started on that, too.¡± He paused. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if that girl heads north with you. I don¡¯t mind that either, as long as you remember that she has to hunt her own.¡±


    She nodded.


    He leaned forward, then. ¡°The first thing, though: Can you control it, Sheilah? Can you subdue the dragon within you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never tried.¡±


    ¡°You have to try, or you¡¯ll have to leave. If you can¡¯t control your power, then it will control you, and we will have to send you away... for our own safety.¡±


    She closed her eyes again.


    ¡°Everyone in our tribe- in our Clan- has to learn this?¡± She asked, and he nodded. ¡°There aren¡¯t many reasons to unleash the power of the Tyrant, Sheilah, and so we are the first tyrants, demanding the power to remain under our control.¡±


    ¡°You said that the Dragon¡¯s power is Tyranny?¡± She asked, her eyes still closed.


    ¡°Mmm. A complicated question. One I¡¯m willing to answer later.¡± he replied comfortably.


    Sheilah drifted in her own mind, trying to find the part of her that needed to be controlled and suppressed.


    ¡°A different question, then.¡± She offered, eyes closed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll permit it. Ask.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s Dragon Metal?¡± She asked curiously.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± He asked curiously, a chuckle on his lips.


    She nodded, her eyes still closed.


    ¡°Dragons... dig themselves dens. Caves.¡± He replied as he watched Sheilah. ¡°They eat up the dirt and rocks, somewhat like the way our chickens have a gizzard to grind up food. The metals in their scales are used in their scale plating. Dragon Metal is stronger than normal metal because it has been refined in the body of a dragon.¡± He paused and took a sip of water. ¡°The Redlands are a hard land to live in. You need to be strong to live here, and you need strong tools to live here. The Dragons and dragonlings give us those strong tools.¡±


    ¡°Why am I not half-elven?¡± Sheilah asked suddenly.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you the last time you asked?¡± Her father asked in response. He always did this. ¡°We will have a very long and complicated conversation about it when you return from your dragon hunt.¡±


    ¡°I need to go north.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°You will.¡± Her father replied.


    ¡°...they never even saw me.¡± She complained in a quiet voice.


    Davian raised an eyebrow at this complaint. ¡°Who? Who didn¡¯t see you?¡±


    ¡°My ancestors. They looked at me, they looked through me as if I wasn¡¯t even there, and then they looked away.¡±


    ¡°...what?¡± Davian asked, baffled.


    ¡°I saw my great grandfather, I saw his wife, I saw his parents, and their parents before them, and above them all, I saw the Tyrant staring down at them with eyes of flame... but they never once looked at me.¡± She replied, fat tears rolling down her face. ¡°I thought that they didn¡¯t see me because they¡¯d come for Caidi... but in the ruins of the town I saw the spirit of my grandfather. He was lost, because nobody came for him.¡±


    Davian took a breath at that. His father¡¯s spirit.


    ¡°He looked at me but didn¡¯t see me either. So lost. So alone.¡± She opened her eyes and looked at her father.


    ¡°Who am I, if my own ancestors can¡¯t even see me?¡± She asked, tears streaming down her face.


    Davian pulled her into his arms and held her. ¡°I see you. As for the rest... It¡¯ll have to wait for your dragon hunt.¡±


    ¡°You always say that!¡± She yelled, twisting free of his embrace.


    He frowned, face twisting. ¡°I¡¯ve said this before, Sheilah: There are some conversations that can only happen when you have come face to face with the dragon and returned.¡±


    She straight-armed him, pushing herself away. Her emotions were in turmoil again, and she didn¡¯t much like the idea that he was keeping things from her.


    ¡°Give me the things I need to face the Ashlands, then.¡± She demanded petulantly, rising to her feet.


    ¡°You¡¯re not ready yet.¡± He replied, his voice rising in anger.


    ¡°Is there anything you and I can say to each other that does not require my hunt in the Ashlands, father?¡± She spat at him angrily.


    He turned his head away and sighed in frustration as he struggled to find something to keep her from simply shouldering her things and leaving.


    ¡°Wait.¡± He urged, and there was a tug-of-war within her between her simply leaving anyway and her desire to be with her family.


    ¡°What?¡± She frowned.


    ¡°You said... in this vision of yours, you said... you could see the Tyrant Dragon.¡±


    Her eyes widened at this sudden change of topic.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Not clearly.¡± She replied coolly, biting off the ends of her sentences.


    ¡°Did he look at you?¡± Davian asked, troubled.


    ¡°The Tyrant is a she.¡± She corrected, and then added, ¡°I think so.¡±


    He adopted a complicated expression at hearing this.


    ¡°Another conversation for when I return?¡± She asked acidly.


    He shook his head. ¡°Not many of us have had visions like you describe.¡± He explained, and gestured for her to sit. ¡°It¡¯s a rare gift to see one¡¯s ancestors, after all.¡± He explained. ¡°You should be proud.¡±


    Her brows drew together. ¡°I might have seen them, but they didn¡¯t see me.¡± She repeated bitterly.


    He shook his head at that, and waved his hand. ¡°It¡¯s even more rare to catch the eye of the Tyrant.¡± He paused and scratched the side of his face. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a good omen. Maybe a bad one. I don¡¯t know. My great-grandfather would know, were he alive. But the short answer is that it¡¯s a strong omen.¡±


    He gave her a sloppy half-smile and a shrug.


    ¡°Tell me of the Dragon.¡± She demanded.


    He snorted. ¡°Later. Wandering around killing dragonlings hasn¡¯t exempted you from chores.¡± He pointed to the tent¡¯s entrance and made a dismissive gesture. ¡°You¡¯ve got obligations to your family, friends, and to the clan. See to them. We¡¯ll talk about the Dragon Totem over dinner.¡±


    He paused. ¡°If you see Fialla, tell her that I really meant what I said about giving her first cut.¡±


    He gestured at the tent flaps again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been in the Valley by myself for months, father. I¡¯d like to clean up and sleep, at least.¡± She complained.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to rest, knowing my daughter is safe.¡± He countered with a shrug. Rest came when you had seen to your responsibilities.

 Chapter 13

    She stepped outside and took a deep breath of the thin, dry air of the Dragon Clan¡¯s home.


    Home.


    The Redstone Valleys were possessed of a certain merciless savagery. The sun was always hot and bright, the air always arid.


    Her tribe¡¯s tents were scattered irregularly in the valley they claimed for their own. Shade was creeping in at the edges of the valley; evening was coming.


    Sheilah didn¡¯t have a bucket or a basket, so she wasn¡¯t certain what chores she was expected to see to. Instead, she descended to the valley floor, where the ground had been beaten, crushed, and turned into soil. Likely her mothers were here, harvesting crops.


    Ladria and Mayrin didn¡¯t actually harvest any crops themselves, though they could if asked. Being the wives of the man who was both the tribe and clan leader, they could exercise a little leeway.


    Instead, they consulted with the people that were responsible for farming and directed which parts of the communal farmland would be allowed to rest, which would be fertilized, mulched, and plowed in preparation for planting, and they oversaw the division of crops equally amongst the families.


    ¡°Look Mayrin, it¡¯s Sheilah, finally come home to us.¡± Ladria observed, pointing at Sheilah, who came over to be greeted.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, mothers.¡± Sheilah greeted.


    ¡°The same for us too, of course.¡± Ladria replied, and Mayrin nodded. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve grown some.¡±


    Sheilah blinked, and looked down at herself. Had she grown? She couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°A little taller, but a bit on the scrawny side. I doubt you¡¯ve been eating well, wherever it was that you were roaming.¡± Mayrin replied to Ladria¡¯s observation. She was always cool and collected, where Ladria was usually a bit more lively.


    ¡°Have you seen Kellia and Sellia? They would be happy to know you¡¯ve returned.¡± Ladria asked as she hunted in her pouch for something.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen them.¡± Sheilah replied.


    Ladria nodded, and fished out her pouch a small sack of honey candies. ¡°Have a few of these, and share them with your sisters.¡± She passed the sack over and embraced Sheilah warmly. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to know their sister has returned.¡±


    Mayrin nodded gravely at Ladria¡¯s words. ¡°You¡¯ve been gone a long time, so you¡¯ve missed the announcement.¡± She patted her rounded belly. ¡°You¡¯ll have a younger brother or a sister soon.¡± she explained in that same cool voice that always seemed disinterested.


    Sheilah¡¯s eyes opened wide at the announcement of Mayrin¡¯s impending delivery, and quickly offered her congratulations.


    As she left the fields, she silently prayed for Ladria to also become pregnant. While there wasn¡¯t much in the way of difference between men and women in terms of strength in the Redstone, it was always wished that a son would be born, because a son could inherit.


    Mayrin was considered a second wife, though it didn¡¯t particularly mean that Mayrin¡¯s child would be unable to inherit Davian¡¯s lineage, but ideally, Ladria would birth a son so that the bloodline would be considered more secure, at least in the eyes of the other clan leaders.


    Politics in the clans were complicated.


    Sheilah thumbed a crystalized honey drop into her mouth, which awakened her hunger. Her body seemed to scream at her at the sudden intrusion of something sweet after months of eating... She couldn¡¯t really remember what all she had eaten while she was gone.


    Where would Kellia and Sellia be? Hunting in the cliffs perhaps, or helping at the forge, or with the leather workers. The large jugs of water in the tent were full, so they¡¯d already seen to fetching water at least.


    Sheilah decided to head to the forges. The heat wouldn¡¯t do her any favors, but she could at least check.


    Dell was at the forges, a powerful human covered in brawny muscles. While technically any clansman was capable of working at the forge, or at the leathersmiths, or at the gardens, or at any single job in the tribe that needed doing, Dell and his family spent the most time at the forge, and had for generations. Sheilah herself could work at the forge, though she wouldn¡¯t be doing anyone any favors by doing so. Her skill left a lot to be desired.


    ¡°You¡¯ve given us quite a boon, Sheilah.¡± He greeted with a wave. ¡°So much Dragon Metal! We¡¯ll have plenty of tools for trade this season.¡±


    She gave him a smile, and unlimbered her bow and quiver.


    ¡°Can this be made stronger?¡± She asked. ¡°I think... I¡¯ll be heading north soon, and I¡¯d like to hope that my bow will offer me a chance.¡±


    He eyed the bow critically, crafted from dragonling bones, and then the arrows themselves.


    ¡°Bold of you to think a bow would mean anything in a fight with a dragon.¡± He finally replied after a lengthy examination. ¡°This would drop anything that made it through the passes, certainly... but a dragon?¡± he added dubiously. He tugged experimentally on the draw, and his eyes widened, and then he adopted a different expression, settled his feet and drew the sinew to his cheek with a grunt.


    He released the draw. ¡°I stand corrected. That¡¯s a fine bow. A fine one.¡± He complimented. ¡°I can make it stronger. The draw will be tighter, but you seem like you¡¯re still growing.¡±


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    She nodded.


    ¡°When do you think you¡¯ll be heading north?¡± He asked.


    She bit her lip. There was a restlessness inside her that demanded she head north immediately.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s going to be very soon. Maybe in a couple of weeks.¡±


    He blinked a few times at that announcement. ¡°It¡¯ll have to be a priority job, then. Can you pay the price?¡±


    Her mouth twisted at that pronouncement. She didn¡¯t have anything to barter.


    ¡°All that metal wasn¡¯t enough for you?¡± She offered with a bargainer¡¯s smile, and he gaped at her, and then laughed. ¡°Fair enough, I suppose. No, more than enough. You¡¯ve been downright industrious, sending so much back here.¡±


    Sheilah made a mental note to thank Fialla for skinning and sending back however many dragonling hides she¡¯d been responsible for.


    *****


    Dragon Metal tools were valuable items for trade, she remembered. It wasn¡¯t often that there was a surplus of metal to spare for trade. Offering several tools at the Clan Gatherings brought the Dragon Clan significant bargaining power when it came to exchanging goods that they couldn¡¯t get on their own- like cloth, rope, and wood.


    Having accomplished her goal at the forge, she set off for the leatherworkers. The hike from the smith¡¯s place was a lengthy one, but she figured she could make it. Maybe, if she was lucky, her sisters were there. Likely they were hunting the elusive dragonlings, but she could hope.


    The ground beneath her feet was packed red earth and stone; a few stray weeds were scattered here and there. The land that the Dragon Clan inhabited wasn¡¯t as forgiving as the lands the other clans claimed, and in a strange way, the Clan of the Dragon was prideful of the fact. Sheilah, too, could feel the pride of the Dragon Clan.


    Any member of the Dragon Clan could tend a forge, scrape a hide, build a shelter, hunt and forage for food, or sing the songs of their clan. It was said that amongst the other clans that they delegated each of the jobs to specific people, specific tribes. What if the person that was taught to make leather were to die? Who would take up that role? It didn¡¯t make sense to her.


    She reached for the quiver at her hip and grimaced; her bow and quiver were at the forge. She felt exposed and naked without it, despite carrying her knife.


    With luck, one shot from her bow could drop a dragonling in its tracks; two if the first shot went awry. How would it fare against a dragon? There were several places she could try shooting at. The eye, the jaw, the back of the head, between the forearm and the body, those were vulnerable points.


    She closed her eyes and turned her mind inward, once again trying to sense the feel of the power of the dragon that had nearly consumed her. It was her responsibility to subdue that power, but first she had to find it.


    She could feel her heartbeat, could feel the way her chest moved as she breathed, could think back and remember things, skills, her parents¡¯ faces, the twins¡¯ reliance on each other... her mind and body were her own.


    So where did the power of the dragon come from?


    Time was wasting. She should return to the tribe and help prepare dinner.


    *****


    By the time she¡¯d returned to camp, dinner was already being prepared. She received a small but gentle chiding from her mother Ladria for being late, and was told to grind herbs for the dishes. She settled down with a stone bowl and pestle. Her sisters, Kellia and Sellia came over to watch her like a curiosity.


    ¡°You were gone a long time.¡± Kellia opened hesitantly.


    ¡°Where were you?¡± Sellia added.


    Sheilah eyed the two of them as they stood, hand-in-hand. ¡°Don¡¯t you have chores?¡± She asked. Normally this would have sent them away, but instead they hung over her.


    ¡°Where did you go?¡± Kellia asked curiously, mirroring her sister.


    How should she answer? She¡¯d been numb with shock and grief.


    Caidi had died, just like that. It didn¡¯t matter that there was an understanding- the Redstone was a harsh land, and you lived and died by your own strength- it was altogether something different when your little sister, one that looked up to you, looked to you for guidance, suddenly died overnight.


    ¡°I saw great-great-grandfather Adlan¡¯s Rest.¡± She finally admitted.


    The twins¡¯ eyes widened. Adlan was a figure from the tales told around the fires. He was a mighty warrior, wise beyond all measure, and it was said that in his trial, he¡¯d slew two dragons- one in its den, and the mate as it was returning for the evening. He was of the ancient ways, and had stolen his bride properly.


    When his wife died of old age, he ventured north, in grief. There was a rock formation like a spire that was seared and blackened at the top. It was said he¡¯d climbed the spire alone, without tools or help, and upon reaching the pinnacle, released the power of the dragon and allowed it to consume him utterly.


    ¡°What else did you see?¡± Sellia urged excitedly.


    Sheilah closed her eyes and sighed. ¡°Two sisters shirking chores.¡± She replied sourly and added more herbs to the mortar. She didn¡¯t bother looking up as she focused on her task, and eventually she sensed them wander off.


    *****


    ¡°I have a gift for my idiot daughter who ran off to wander the northern wastes of the Redstone.¡± Davian announced as he sat across from her.


    She looked up at him expectantly.


    ¡°First, some of your questions will be answered tonight. You¡¯ll learn about the Dragon, and what makes them so terrifying.¡± He explained, and presented her with a wrapped bundle.


    ¡°The second is this. It belongs to you, it belongs to the family, it belongs to the tribe, and it belongs to the Clan of the Dragon.¡± He repeated carefully.


    This was something that was spoken when a new dragontooth weapon was crafted. A dragon-tooth weapon wasn¡¯t just something you owned and used, it was something that was passed down through the family as part of a living heritage. Her children would use it. Her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren.


    She took the proffered bundle and unwrapped it, revealing a short dragontooth sword with a dragonbone hilt, sheathed in dragonhide. The blade was about as long as her forearm, slightly curved, with a clipped point.


    She picked it up with a frown of confusion. How was it hers? She hadn¡¯t yet slain any dragons that she was aware of.


    She picked it up and examined the ivory-gold blade. A clan sword was a blade that was meant more for chopping and slashing than it was for piercing. It was a short blade that could be used to cut underbrush, dismember animals for food preparation. It was more for utility than a weapon.


    ¡°I had the tooth you took from that oversized dragonling ground out into a proper blade. If you hadn¡¯t run off, I¡¯d¡¯ve given this to you a long time ago.¡± He explained drily. He pushed himself up to a standing position with a grunt of effort and massaged his back.


    ¡°Hurry up with those herbs.¡± he gestured, and left.

 Chapter 14

    A spark of irritation burned in Sheilah¡¯s gut. Davian was true to his word, the dinner was a tribe feast.


    This, for a wayward daughter that couldn¡¯t accept the Law of the Redstone? That couldn¡¯t accept that the strong lived, the weak perished, and you lived and died by your own strength?


    Concurrently, it fell to the strong to direct the weak in ways that they too could cultivate their own strength. Caidi had no business being on that hunt. Sheilah should have chosen differently.


    She¡¯d failed her sister, failed her tribe, failed her clan, failed her Totem, and that was the real reason she¡¯d left.


    ¡°Because so many of our tribe will be heading to the lands of ash and fire to test themselves against what awaits them, we¡¯ll teach them about what they¡¯ll be facing: the lore of the Dragon Totem.¡± Davian announced, and just like that, the arrangement of the families and children around the piles of foods and fires shifted. All the boys and girls that would head into the ashlands were pushed forward into a group where they faced the tribe¡¯s leaders: Davian, Ladria, and Mayrin.


    Sheilah felt alone, alienated within her own shame, despite the feeling of Fialla pressed next to her.


    The families of the ones that were planning to send their young into the Burning Lands grouped up loosely behind them. Despite being surrounded by friends and family, Sheilah felt alone and cold. She needed to leave. She didn¡¯t belong with them.


    The fires danced, throwing strange, leaping shadows on the walls of the red cliffs behind them.


    ¡°The Dragon presides over four Domains.¡± Davian began, and suddenly the mutters and murmurs stilled and hushed.


    ¡°What defines and makes a Dragon a Dragon is Immortality, Calamity, Indomitability, and Supremacy.¡± Davian taught, his eyes glowing. ¡°A Dragon isn¡¯t a Dragon if it is not Immortal. The Tyrant is eternal, demanting subservience and destruction for all time. When you hunt your Dragon in the Ash Wastes and take in its power, that power of Immortality is passed to you in the boon of healing.¡±


    He drew his great-grandfather¡¯s sword and ran the blade down his arm. Blood flowed and dripped in a thin stream from the wound into the ground, where it pooled and reflected the firelight in strange shimmers. Even in the uncertain light of nightime and firelight, it was apparent to everyone that the wound was closing in on itself, sealing itself.


    ¡°A Dragon is defined by its thirst for endless, perpetual destruction. Nothing satisfies; everything must burn.¡± His eyes glowed like molten fire and he sucked in a great breath- was it Sheilah¡¯s imagination, or could she hear the hissing sound of her father sucking in the air of that great breath?


    She knew what coming next. She¡¯d seen it at Caidi¡¯s funeral. She didn¡¯t want to see it again.


    Davian blew a jet of flame that seared the stones, incinerating the floods piled up like offerings, overwhelmed the campfires.


    Something leapt in Sheilah¡¯s breast, hot and insistent. Did she really feel that way? If she were the one to command such power, might she feel different? Wouldn¡¯t things be so much more convenient if she could command that power herself?


    Was that it? Was that the power of the Dragon that she¡¯d obtained for herself?


    Davian listed on his feet, and Ladria reached up to steady him, but drew her hand back. It was obvious she wanted to help him, support him in his moment of weakness, but he was Davian. Davian the Hero. Davian the Liberator. Davian the Destroyer. Davian, the leader of the entire Clan of the Dragon.


    A man lived and died by his own strength.


    ¡°For the strongest among you, you¡¯ll be able to do that only a few times in a day. The price of destruction is a heavy one, and it will demand you pay that price. Use the power of Calamity frivolously and you will pay the dearest cost and find your soul in the talons of the Tyrant, having to explain why you were so stupid.¡± His face twitched; it might have been a smile. ¡°Not a conversation I think anyone would want to have.¡±


    Some of Sheilah¡¯s contemporaries murmured amongst themselves at this. It was a rare thing that you did not see the Dragon¡¯s Breath, though it was never used without preparation and premeditation. It was a devastating power, certainly, but it exacted its cost on the wielder.


    Daveth took a drink from his goblet, and straightened his back imperceptibly. Sheilah wondered if anyone but her saw it. Perhaps her mothers; they had nothing but eyes for him.


    ¡°Indomitability is to have a body that defies the strongest attacks and most debilitating injuries. The Tyrant will shrug off anything that is unworthy of its might. When you succeed, the boon that will be passed to you is a resistance to plague and poison.¡±


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    Caidi.


    Sheilah remembered the conversation with her father shortly before her sister¡¯s body was placed on the pyre. If Caidi had this boon, the gnolls would never have killed her with their pestilence.


    ¡°The final element of the Tyrant is Supremacy. Supremacy of the sky, supremacy of all that lay beneath it, the absolute defiance against any authority that is not itself and the indomitable will to refuse any authority that does not come from itself.¡±


    ¡°This authority is why we stand at the pinnacle, standing above all the other Clans. We cannot abide the idea that anything refuses to acknowledge us.¡± He eyed the young adults arrayed before him, and Sheilah could feel the others flinch back from that gaze. ¡°That is the essence of tyranny, and you would do well to remember that this is the power you must struggle to master the most. Supremacy without strength is arrogance. Strength without wisdom is meaningless. Wisdom without strength is barking into the wind. You must hone your mind as much as you hone your bodies so that you do not make the mistake of relying on the conviction that ¡®just because you say it, it must be so¡¯.¡±


    His eyes seemed to linger on Sheilah¡¯s for a moment when he said this.


    *****


    The hunt for the Dragon was nothing more than a repeat of every other hunt: Whelplings were to be hunted alone. Dragonlings were to be hunted alone. Dragons were to be hunted alone.


    There were a great many monsters in the Ashlands besides the dragons, as well as many differences in the lands themselves. Water was far more scarce, for another. There were places where the air itself was poison, burning rain fell from the skies, lava flowed and pooled on the ground, and ravenous giants stalked the lands, fully sixteen feet tall, searching for anything that could be eaten.


    The monsters and behemoths that stalked the savage lands of the burning wastes could be hunted in the waste in groups, but a dragon hunt was something that was fought alone.


    After the feast, everyone returned to their tents except for Sheilah, who lay on her back and stared up at the sky, watching the slow, incremental wheel of the stars overhead. That strange, savage fire with its insistent need burned in her chest, but her heart was cold. She was strangely impatient and lethargic.


    ¡°Davian seems to think you are punishing yourself for Caidi¡¯s death.¡± Mayrin¡¯s voice appeared behind her, cool and crisp. It was easy to believe it sounded dispassionate. She hid her emotions well.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have let her come. It was too soon for her to fight gnolls.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°She was certainly ready to fight the gnolls we knew.¡± Mayrin replied. ¡°Their ability to set ambushes, use weapons and armor, that was unexpected.¡± She replied simply.


    ¡°Then, we should have left. It was my call to make.¡±


    ¡°Nothing changes. You would have been forgiven if you had; but you were also forgiven for doing what you did. The blame for Caidi¡¯s death lies with the gnolls, not with you.¡±


    ¡°I am unfit to be a leader.¡± Sheilah objected.


    Mayrin said nothing to this, simply stood behind Sheilah¡¯s head.


    ¡°The Wild Elves have had a very difficult time adjusting to life in the Redstone.¡± She spoke quietly, coolly. ¡°While our homelands were no less harsh, we lived supporting and relying on each other. Water and food was plentiful, if you knew where to look for it. Nature is terrifying, and it takes a strong will to live in it.¡± She paused. ¡°When the Princess decided to escape the yoke of the High Elves and join hands with the Redstone tribes, we thought it would be similar to our own home.¡±


    Sheilah said nothing, simply letting the stars glare down at her with their strange, flickering alien light.


    ¡°Uncounted thousands were lost in the rebellion. Thousands more were lost in our exodus. And when we arrived in the Redstone, we lost even more. We were forced to give up our magics and embrace the Totems of the Redstone. So many were lost that it makes the previous sacrifices pale in comparison.¡±


    She paused again. ¡°But the Princess endured. She loved the man that brought her and her people out of bondage. She loved her people that followed.¡±


    Her voice was cool and smooth.


    ¡°The years that followed were very hard for the Wild Elves. There were many that ... didn¡¯t take well to the Redstone.¡±


    The pause in her voice was laden with meaning that even Sheilah could understand: Rebellion. Dissent.


    ¡°But the Princess persevered. She endured the loss of so many of her people, and persevered. Now the Wild Elves are part of the Redstone, and our children understand the shared values of our people.¡±


    Sheilah looked up at Mayrin, who looked down at her. Mayrin¡¯s face was filled with caring.


    ¡°You make your choices the best you can in hope for the best result, and you endure and grow stronger for the losses.¡±


    She paused again. ¡°I continue to follow the Princess because I believe that every choice she makes is for the whole of our people. Not just for the Redstone, or for the Wild Elves, but for all of us together.¡± She paused again. ¡°A single misstep is easy to forgive, because you can learn from it.¡±


    She eased herself down and touched Sheilah¡¯s forehead lightly with her fingers, brushing the girl¡¯s hair away from her forehead. ¡°I grieve the loss of Caidi, but I know with conviction that she did her best. I know that you and her sisters did their best to protect each other. I know that you will return from your trial, the same as the Princess and I did. I know that you will lead, and I know that you will make mistakes, and will be ever the stronger for it.¡±


    She stood up with a sigh and rubbed her lower back. ¡°Come inside. It¡¯s cold. You have a home to welcome you, food to fill your belly, and a bed that needs to embrace you.¡±


    Sheilah chose to lay there for a little while longer. She¡¯d seen things, after all, things that changed the nature of how things were in the Redstone, and perhaps the way she viewed her father.


    She closed her eyes.

 Chapter 15

    She¡¯d drifted off without going inside to bed. She gradually became aware of someone standing over her. Was it Mayrin, with a stronger insistence that she head back inside where her family awaited?


    She looked up and eyed her father, who stared down at her.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t matter how many times I went back there, father.¡± She explained when she recognized him. ¡°I killed and I killed and I killed, but there were always more of them than I had arrows.¡± She blinked and refocused her gaze. Exhaustion was digging deep into her, and if she wasn¡¯t careful, she¡¯d fall asleep on the spot. ¡°If you had to ask for my opinion, that¡¯s where they¡¯re nested. That¡¯s where they come from. That¡¯s where they¡¯ve always come from.¡±


    ¡°What, Sheilah?¡± He asked curiously.


    ¡°Gnolls.¡± She replied simply. ¡°I went there with as many arrows as I could carry four times, and there were always more of them than I had arrows.¡± She rolled on her side as her need for sleep crawled inside her head and insisted itself with a bone-cracking yawn. ¡°There was the one with the strange power, too. Always there, always waiting. It didn¡¯t matter how many arrows I put through it, it tore them out and kept laughing.¡±


    He squatted next to her. ¡°Where?¡± He asked.


    ¡°The Keep.¡± She replied. ¡°If you want to drive them from the Redstone once and for all, you¡¯ll have to go there.¡± She explained in a quiet, broken voice. ¡°But there¡¯s one you can¡¯t ever kill. It refuses to die.¡±


    Her father brought her into the tent and sent her to bed, a bed that felt strange after so long apart from it.


    She tossed and turned, struggling to fall asleep even as her body demanded sleep. She couldn¡¯t settle down. It was strange, but the somewhat soft, comfortable bedroll felt alien to her.


    She curled up into a ball, imagined the naked stars that flickered down over the Redstone, and after a while, laying there, breathing slowly, she felt herself relax, bit by bit. She drifted alone in her mind, trying to put pieces together. There were parts of her memories that were simply gone.


    What had happened in those times? What happened to her as she rambled all over the Redstone, killing dragonlings and eating their flesh? She poked and prodded her memory, but there wasn¡¯t anything that grounded her, nothing that made sense.


    As she struggled to recall things that she couldn¡¯t remember, she gradually realized that there was a part of her that felt... different from her. It existed within, parallel to her, but not her at all. It dreamed of flames and violence, subjugation and fury, and an overwhelming, insatiable hunger.


    That was it. That part of her was the Dragon, wasn¡¯t it? It was the part of her that constantly demanded acknowledgement. It was the part that hid behind her eyes and consumed her food as fast as she could eat it.


    Her father said she needed to learn to control it.


    Totems were more than just powerful beasts. They were living representations of strength and power and interminable wisdom that defied comprehension. They were creatures of power and majesty in their own way, each at the pinnacle of their respective histories.


    But above them all was the Dragon. Immortal. Indestructible. Demanding obeisance, bringing destruction and leaving ashes and terror in its wake.


    Her eyelids glowed subtly as the eyes beneath them slipped back and forth in sleep as the dragon within her reached out to her as she slept, filling her mind with dreams of limitless flames and endless subjugation.


    She dreamed of the Supreme Tyrant again, massive eyes as large as she was tall, brilliant orbs of molten gold, rows of teeth so large she likely wouldn¡¯t even feel them as she was swallowed whole.


    Its massive brain was awake and asleep at the same time, thinking and dreaming strange, alien thoughts as it rejected everything that was not itself.


    One thought focused itself on her, and Sheilah buckled to her knees, the Supreme Tyrant¡¯s power of Supremacy focused exclusively on her.


    The pressure of the Supreme Tyrant, the Dragon of Dragons, that behemoth that defied everything, rejected everything, demanded everything abase itself beneath its overwhelming might was a palpable intimidation that crushed her beneath its weight. The air was squeezed from her lungs, the marrow from her bones, the blood from her pores.


    In a moment she would awaken in her bed, slick with sweat and shame, in a moment she would be safe, in a moment she would feel the shame and crushing loss of her sister as her mind rewound itself and replayed the fight with the gnolls, over and over again.


    In a moment, it would all be over.


    But first, her own power, the feebly fluttering spark of defiance, the power of the Dragon that had grown within her as she fed on dragonlings during her long, wandering journey across the Redstone demanded she answer power to power, defiance to defiance, power for power. She would face this thing, this Supreme Tyrant on her feet. She could do that much, at least.


    Sheilah forced herself to her feet as the titanic creature shifted itself in the massive caldera, blackened wings unfurling. If the Mother Tyrant ever deigned to take flight, those wings that defied words for size would darken the skies and blot out the sun for miles in every direction.


    One of the titanic eyes opened and shifted to look in her direction, pupil narrowing as it focused on her. If it was a gap between two stone cliffs, she could have fit in the slit pupil.


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    I see you.


    The cold shock, the icewater in her veins, the terror of being seen, of being recognized by that thing, that indescribable, godlike thing that demanded everything, destroyed everything, and defied everything, was too much; her heart burst in her chest and she awoke in her bed with a gasp.


    She wasn¡¯t just soaked in sweat, her entire bed seemed soggy with it. She struggled out of her bed, feeling disgust and revulsion. She struggled out of her drenched night clothes and tossed them to the side where they lay in a rank, wet heap.


    She was weak and desperately hungry. She wobbled on her feet and collapsed to the rugs that covered the flooring of the tent.


    Her head floated dizzily, and seemed impossibly heavy, too heavy to lift. Her legs were too weak to support her; she crashed to her knees. Her body boiled with heat; she was freezing. She was unrelentingly hungry, she felt like puking up everything she¡¯d eaten since she was born.


    She struggled to move to the central fire. There would be a bucket there, she could drink from it and wash herself.


    It wasn¡¯t far.


    In just a moment, she would make it.


    She could reach it with her hands if she tried.


    ¡°Mayrin, see to her bedding.¡± A voice, distorted and strange, slipped into her head. ¡°Sellia and Kellia, help your mother.¡±


    Her head lolled powerlessly on her neck as she was rolled over onto her back. Her vision was strange, and it was an impossible struggle to focus on anything, so she gave up.


    ¡°We need to get some food into her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s covered in sweat; we need to get some water into her, husband-¡±


    ¡°Broth will be fine for her right now.¡±


    Something was placed to her lips, which felt like numb bits of shredded leather.


    She drifted between waking and unconsciousness.


    People spoke to her, or maybe she spoke to them.


    She felt herself being washed, but felt powerless to move, to hinder or help.


    ¡°Breathe.¡± someone told her, but she couldn¡¯t remember how, and it was a bother anyways, so she decided not to do it.


    It didn¡¯t matter, so she slipped back into sleep.


    She opened her eyes an eternity later and discovered that aside from some lingering exhaustion, she felt a lot better. She stared up at the inner lining of the tent she¡¯d been born and grew up in and waited for her mind to come back to her.


    Something had happened to her, right?


    One of the Mother Tyrant¡¯s eyes snapped open, the nictitating membrane flicking to the side. Its massive iris shifting between the myriad colors of molten gold and flame. Suddenly, without warning or preamble, the iris tightened, the slit pupil of the dragon constricting as it focused on her.


    I see you.


    Sheilah¡¯s heart clamped painfully in her chest as she remembered. She struggled to breathe, the muscles in her chest like taught iron bands.


    Eventually, reluctantly, they loosened and she was able to take a gasping breath. Once she did that, her heart seemed to relax and slow down in her chest, though she seriously believed that if she tried thinking about it again, that overwhelming sense of terror would slam into her again and rip her to shreds from the inside out.


    She blinked a few times, and eventually, she felt like she was able to move.


    She tried moving her fingers which seemed to work. She moved her arms a little, and suddenly realized that there was someone else in her bed. She turned her head and saw Sellia was to her left. She turned her head and was unsurprised to see Kellia on the right.


    She tried to move her arms again, and despaired at the fact that they seemed to feel as if they weighed fifty pounds.


    She couldn¡¯t get out of bed without waking her sisters, but she had a more pressing need; she needed to relieve herself.


    She struggled out of bed and was dismayed to see that she was scrawny, scarcely a bundle of sticks in a wrapping of skin.


    She maneuvered herself over the pot used for such things and eyed her sisters, who had migrated across the space she¡¯d once occupied to embrace each other. Whoever was decided to be their husband would have problems keeping them apart from each other. She was absolutely certain that they would never settle to marry separate men.


    She struggled into her clothing, despairing over how laborious it was. When the time came, would she be able to draw her bow?


    ¡°So you can move around, now.¡± She heard her father call out.


    ¡°Barely¡± she tried to reply, but it came out in a ragged croak, instead.


    ¡°Come on in here and try and eat something.¡± He offered, and after the fight with her clothes ended in a victory for her, she wobbled and stumbled her way into the main room of the tent and let gravity pull her down by the central fire.


    He eyed her cautiously. ¡°Feel like telling me what happened?¡± He asked simply.


    What happened? She didn¡¯t want to remember. That molten eye, that throaty acknowledgement.


    She took a breath and tried to find a way to begin without that monstrous terror crushing her under its weight.


    ¡°I dreamed of the Tyrant.¡± She managed in a strangled voice.


    He passed her a bowl of porridge and rubbed his chin in thought. ¡°You¡¯ve dreamed of the Tyrant before.¡± He replied.


    ¡°She saw me.¡± She managed around a mouthful of food. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she ate.


    When she finished a few bites, she settled the bowl in her lap.


    ¡°She saw me. She recognized me. She spoke to me.¡± She added, and he gestured at the bowl in her lap. She obediently ate some more.


    ¡°Keep eating. You¡¯re going to eat a lot more in the immediate future. Expect to be eating while doing your chores.¡±


    She blinked at him. ¡°Chores?¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m going to let someone lay about when there¡¯s chores to be done? We¡¯ve all got responsibilities, and yours just got larger by two: You¡¯re to eat as much as you can and recover what you¡¯ve lost as quickly as you can.¡±


    She shot him an unhappy look, which earned her a laugh.


    ¡°You live and die by your own strength.¡± He replied simply.

 Chapter 16

    At first, it was chores around the house.


    Emptying water buckets into the large jugs that everyone used. Breaking twigs and branches into kindling, stacking cordwood, organizing the kitchen, cooking and preparing her meals.


    As she worked, he questioned her on the various parts of her dream, digging for every minute detail.


    She tried asking him about what it all meant, but he shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m no shaman, I don¡¯t know what it means. I just want to know what it was, and to try to figure out what it means on my own. It¡¯s a lovely puzzle you¡¯ve given me, Sheilah.¡±


    She had no idea what a shaman was.


    She moved to doing laundry and hewing wood. It surprised her how quickly she regained her original strength, and soon she was hauling water, running to fetch things, working in the gardens, at the forge, at whatever the tribe needed.


    ¡°This¡¯ll be your last chore for the evening.¡± Davian announced to her after a particularly vigorous day spent fetching things for the leather workers who were finishing up the armor she was to wear to the Wastes.


    He handed her her bow and quiver.


    She secured the quiver on her waist and adjusted it until it sat comfortable on her hip, and then tested the draw on her bow. It was stronger than she expected, but it wasn¡¯t impossible to use.


    Once she¡¯d gone through her checks, he handed her his sword, which was as long as his arm. She eyed it, and then him. He was never without it, even while he slept.


    ¡°The pass between our lands and the lands of Stormheim have been invaded. Kellia says at least three men wearing leather are in the lands of the Clans.¡±


    A cold splash of adrenaline froze her in place.


    ¡°Stormheim?¡±


    He nodded, and then wiggled his hand. ¡°They come from the lands of Stormheim, but they¡¯re not dressed like soldiers. Spies, mercenaries, bandits; something like that. The men of Stormheim that we deal with dress in metal armor.¡±


    ¡°Wait. You just said something important: We deal with Stormheim?¡±


    ¡°A different conversation for another time. Intruders, Sheilah. Unwelcome ones. Kill them. Hunt them down, all of them, and kill them.¡±


    ¡°Just me?¡± She asked.


    ¡°You think you can go anywhere without Fialla following you wherever you go?¡± He asked curiously. ¡°But this is your responsibility. You are from my house, my tribe, my clan. You know what that means. Now run.¡±


    He shoved her out of the tent, a dozen unanswered questions on her lips.


    As he¡¯d expected, Fialla was there as well, in her own set of dragonhide leather.


    ¡°I wish I had a bow like yours.¡± Fialla said by way of greeting, holding up her own, which was a finely made bow in its own right, even if it was an ordinary bow that hadn¡¯t been crafted from the bones and sinew of dragonlings.


    They started off at a trot.


    ¡°I heard it was at least three men.¡± Sheilah explained. ¡°How are we to tell the difference between them and those from the Redstone?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I think their armor will be different from ours.¡± Fialla explained, slapping the chest of her dragonhide armor.


    Certainly, that was true enough. No whelplings or dragonlings made it past the clans.


    ¡°Will you show me how to make my own bow before we head into the wastes, Sheilah?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°I heard you were going to be taking your family¡¯s spear.¡± Sheilah rebutted, and Fialla nodded.


    ¡°I will be taking my grandfather¡¯s spear with me, that¡¯s true. But I would like to learn how to make a bow like yours for myself.¡±


    Ever the shadow.


    It was late evening when they arrived at what used to be the passes leading to the forests beyond the cliffs of the Redstone.


    In the time of Rawls, the father of Davian, Stormheim had carved the passes into a paved road, wide and easy to travel. Rawls was never mentioned, or spoken of by name. He was a traitor to the Clans of the Redstone, a toady to Stormheim and their Church of the Light. When spoken, Sheilah¡¯s family was her father Davian, her great-grandfather Lonato, and her great-great grandfather Adlan.


    Rawls was caught in the in-between: Not enough faith in the Church of the Light to be accepted by their god, and not enough commitment to the Totems of the Redstone Valley to be claimed by them. He wandered the abandoned town, a forlorn spirit, unable to pass on.


    Sheilah and Fialla crept to the road, eyes probing the steadily lengthening shadows for a hint of the intruders.


    ¡°Tracks in the dirt there, Sheilah.¡± Fialla pointed.


    Sheilah nocked an arrow, and nudged Fialla. ¡°I¡¯ve got you covered. Get down there and get me a count.¡±


    Fialla didn¡¯t hesitate, she slipped through the boulders and approached the road, and began casting back and forth as Sheilah scrutinized the boulders and cliffs and niches where someone might take a potshot at Fialla or herself.


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    Fialla returned. ¡°At least five. There¡¯s a horse and cart.¡± she offered.


    ¡°How old?¡±


    Fialla thought for a few minutes. ¡°I think they¡¯re several hours old.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°We¡¯re on the hunt. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They paced the tracks stealthily, carefully for several miles, and stopped as soon as they arrived in the lands owned by the Mountain Cat Clan territory.


    ¡°Should we leave it to the clan of the Mountain Cat?¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°We¡¯ve got their scent, and it¡¯s our responsibility, anyway.¡±


    Fialla nodded uncertainly.


    ¡°What?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°You think it will be fine for the two of us to take on five of them?¡± She asked worriedly.


    Sheilah paused. She could send Fialla for help, but it would be dusk at least before help falled.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can find them, at least.¡±


    Fialla nodded.


    The intruders, whoever they were, stuck to the road, which meant that they would cut briefly through Mountain Cat territory, and then nearly double back as they approached the remains of the former Stormheim town.


    As Sheilah and Fialla chased their backtrail, it was apparent that the intruders made no attempt to hide their presence. They made for the town as quickly as they could, and Fialla judged that the intruders likely meant to make the town their destination.


    As Sheilah and Fialla followed, Sheilah herself came across another set of tracks.


    She frowned irritably. She knew those tracks as well as she knew the scars on her hands- Sellia was tailing the men as well.


    It suddenly made sense to Sheilah: Sheilah, Sellia and Kellia- all of them were hunting the intruders in the name of Davian, the leader of the Dragon clan. With Fialla, that changed the odds to a much more manageable four to five.


    She was much more confident of their success now.


    The town was carved into two layers, with one layer higher than the other, both of them facing the one lake in the entirety of the Redstone.


    The intruders drove their cart directly into the stable, there was smoke chuffing easily from the chimney of the inn.


    ¡°This is too simple.¡± Sheilah muttered. ¡°Did they think they could do this and get away with it?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t go here.¡± Kellia piped up matter-of-factly from Sheilah¡¯s side.


    ¡°So do we go in there and kill them that way? Set the building on fire?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°Set the building on fire.¡± Sellia piped up. ¡°Your bows won¡¯t be too good in there.¡±


    Sheilah took her father¡¯s sword and drew it, feeling the weight of it, the grip against her hand.


    Like all of her family¡¯s weapons, they now felt alien and strange to her, as if an invisible line had been drawn between herself and the rest of Davian¡¯s family. She was alone, she was an outsider. These weapons did not belong to her by right of blood.


    She circled the building and discovered a door that was nearly flush with the ground. After several minutes spent in thought, it seemed as though perhaps the door opened into a lower level of the inn. She couldn¡¯t figure out why such a thing was needed, however.


    She tugged on the doorhandle, but it came away from the door with ease, the corroded and rusted metal clinking in her hand.


    She investigated the door with her hands, as light was failing.


    The door was thick, but the wood was spongy and rotted. It would be easy to break.


    She placed the point of Davian¡¯s sword against the wood, and leaned on it. The dragontooth blade slid through the wood like butter, surprising her into nearly overbalancing and landing directly on it.


    She pulled down and watched a long chunk of the wood split away, yanked the blade out, and tossed the chunk into the weeds. She dropped into the cellar, with Fialla, Sellia and Kellia right behind her.


    Once in the cellar, she nocked an arrow and tried to listen to the people one floor up.


    They babbled incomprehensibly back and forth while Fialla paced back and forth under them, following the conversation.


    There was always a sense that Sheilah was nearly able to understand them, that they were speaking the same language, but their accent, cadence, and nuance was so different from her own that it was impossible to figure out.


    ¡°Any idea what they¡¯re saying?¡± Sheilah asked, and the other three gave her wide-eyed looks.


    ¡°You don¡¯t... know?¡± Fialla asked, confused.


    ¡°Should I? I can¡¯t understand a word they¡¯re saying.¡± She replied.


    The three of them traded wide eyed looks.


    ¡°They¡¯re looking for something called ¡®gold¡¯.¡± Fialla offered helpfully. ¡°Apparently it was popular in this town.¡±


    Sheilah adopted a baffled look. What was that?


    ¡°One of them is ... coming this way.¡± Fialla broke the silence, and then pointed to a stairwell vaguely illuminated in the darkness.


    There was a crunch of breaking wood, and a chorus of raucous laughter, and suddenly the stairwell was lit from behind.


    Sheilah dropped Davian¡¯s sword and quickly nocked an arrow. In her periphery she saw Fiala do the same.


    A large boot appeared on the stairs, whoever it was wasn¡¯t taking any chances with the rotted wood.


    He carefully took a few steps down into the cellar, and then Fialla loosed, catching the man just above the knee. He collapsed with a scream, and as the rest of his body fell into view, Sheilah fired, her massive bow driving an arrow through his face and out the back of his skull as the stairway groaned and collapsed with a crash.


    There was a rattle of boots on the floor above them, headed towards the stairwell, followed by a tentative step down that was quickly withdrawn.


    There was a bit of chatter; again Sheilah felt like she was almost able to understand it, or was just on the cusp of understanding it, but it sounded like gibberish.


    There was a rattle of boots tattooing on the floor upstairs that faded away.


    ¡°They¡¯re either leaving or... they¡¯re coming around this way to get to their friend.¡± Sheilah decided, turning to face the cellar door that she¡¯d came through. She picked up her father¡¯s sword and sheathed it, then tucked a handful of arrows in her fist.


    It was easier to nock, draw, and release quickly when you had several arrows in your hand.


    There was an exclamation over the cellar door, and then a torch dropped into the cellar, revealing a series of stone steps just below the entrance that Sheilah had dropped through. She drew her bow, the fletchings tickling her cheek, and took two steps into the shadows as a man dropped through the hole.


    He bent and picked up the torch, and waved it around, then turned and yelled up at his comrades.


    They broke away the cellar door and clambered down the stone steps.


    As soon as Sheilah was certain they were all in, She loosed.

 Chapter 17

    Sheilah¡¯s bow was made from dragonbone and thin, flexible strips of Dragon Metal, with a tough, dried and twisted bit of sinew for the string. It was tougher, larger, and stronger than a normal bow crafted from wood and ram horn nocks.


    Her arrows were made from dragonling bone that had been turned on a lathe, and fitted with dragonling teeth that had been ground to even points.


    Originally, the arrows had been made with fire-hardened wood, and this was sufficient to kill a dragonling in one or two shots. With dragonling-bone arrows, the arrow¡¯s strength was increased further.


    A dragon¡¯s hide was difficult to penetrate, and could easily and effortlessly turn aside swords and spears made from metal, but dragon teeth, teeth that had been tempered in the flames of dragonfire, ground to points could punch through the tough leathery hide of a fire-breathing monster.


    Sheilah herself had been similarly forged in the savage and inhospitable lands of the Clan of the Dragon. Her body was wrapped in corded muscle, she could run for miles, for hours, every single day.


    When she released her first arrow, it punched through the leather armor of the first man holding the torch, exited out of the back, and punched through the second man¡¯s armor just as brutally, exiting and shattering the stone step next to the third man, who hadn¡¯t yet reacted.


    She nocked and drew a second arrow, drawing a bead on the third man when suddenly, as if by the grace of the totems, an arrow blossomed in his throat. He made a brief choking sound while Sheilah, feeling a savage fire raging in her breast, tracked her her bow to the right and loosed another arrow that dispatched the fourth man.


    All five had died.


    Sheilah let out a breath she didn¡¯t realize she was holding and staggered as she suddenly became aware of how hard her heart had been pounding in her chest.


    ¡°That was...¡± Sellia gasped.


    Sheilah couldn¡¯t yet look at her sisters. That hot fire was still rampaging within her, and it was something that she finally recognized; it was the Supremacy of the Dragon, demanding more things to subjugate beneath its all-consuming rage. She tried to let go of her bow and discovered, to her dismay, that she couldn¡¯t. Her hand had cramped to the grip.


    She closed her eyes and struggled with the Dragon in her heart- now she realized why it was so important for Davian to ask her if she was safe to be around.


    It was no good. She needed to get away from everyone. She needed...


    Well, she needed to head north. There were plenty of things that needed to be subjugated there, and she couldn¡¯t wait to go there and try.


    How to calm the dragon in her breast?


    How had she done it, months ago, in Davian¡¯s tent?


    ¡°Is everyone all right?¡± She asked, her eyes still closed.


    ¡°We¡¯re fine.¡± came a chorus of replies.


    ¡°What¡¯s our next step?¡± Sheilah asked, her eyes still closed.


    ¡°I want to go upstairs and check to make sure there are no more left!¡± Sellia and Kellia chirped.


    ¡°Fialla, what do you think? Are there more than five that came in?¡±


    ¡°There could be? They did come in a wagon. More of them could be up there, sleeping perhaps.¡± was Fialla¡¯s response.


    What would be the appropriate response?


    ¡°We drag out the bodies of the men we killed.¡± Sheilah decided, ticking the points off on her fingers. ¡°We put them in the cart they came in on. We move the cart out of the stable. Horse, too. Kellia, Sellia, and Fialla, go in and check the building for others. If there are any, kill them and add them to the cart. In the morning, we take the cart back to the pass and leave it there as a reminder to Stormheim as to what happens when they intrude on the lands of the Clan.¡±


    ¡°Will you be coming with us?¡± Fialla asked.


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t. The dragon is awake in me and I need to calm it down. I¡¯m... dangerous.¡±


    Her words silenced them as effectively as a knife.


    ¡°Dragon?!¡±


    She was bombarded with a hail of questions.


    She wanted to answer them, but she was also afraid that if she did, she would be an irresponsible older sister, putting ideas in the minds of impressionable little sisters with plenty of energy but very little sense.


    ¡°Fialla, take these two chatterbugs upstairs and check the building. Be careful. Be safe.¡±


    She was finally able to relax her legs enough to fall back against the cold stone floor of the cellar.


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    She took a deep breath and could smell the rank, coppery smell of blood, blood she¡¯d spilled.


    She took another deep breath, held it, and let it out.


    The painful heat in her chest seemed to loosen and settle down. She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, covered in cobwebs.


    ¡°I¡¯m so hungry.¡± She muttered to herself.


    Her sisters were able to haul the bodies of the men they killed out of the cellar and Sheilah was even able to help, though she felt weak and exhausted while she did it.


    After a somewhat lengthy discussion, it was decided that they would haul the bodies out to the pass in the wagon to what was generally decided to be ¡°Stornheim lands¡±, and left there.


    They¡¯d ask Davian what to do about the horse. Could a horse be used in the Redstone? Should it be kept? Butchered? Left with the wagon?


    It was night, so everything would be done in the morning, after first light, depending on how Davian answered.


    Sheilah was able to retrieve her arrows, which was a boon as she only had thirty of them, and it was likely she''d need all of them in her fight against the dragon when she headed north.


    The return to her tribe was anticlimactic.


    ¡°You did as you were asked?¡± was his question. She nodded, and relayed the group¡¯s decision.


    He gave her a sloppy half smile. ¡°There¡¯s not much use for a horse this high up in the Redstone, but we can trade it to one of the other clans. There are some clans that would use it for food, others for labor. It depends on a great many things, and how we can best benefit from the deal.¡±


    In the Redstone, the Clans worked together to support each other, but at the same time there was a great deal of competitive and aggressive bargaining. Favors were important.


    In the morning, the cart with the bodies were dragged out to the passes that guarded the Redstone Valley from the lands of the Stormheim, and abandoned. The horse was traded to the Mountain Cat clan, and Sheilah received her dragonling armor.


    The armor was simple; a pair of fingerless gloves with the backs shod in thin plates of Dragon Metal. The arm she used to hold her bow came with a bracer.


    The chest was a vest that hung to her thighs, held snug with a leather belt; along with a pair of dragon-leather pants, and her boots were dragon-metal shod. Over it was a longcoat of dragon leather that hung to her ankles.


    Dragonling leather wasn¡¯t wholly proof against the fires that a dragon could breathe, but it was a protection. The armor itself was tailored to fit the style and disposition of the one wearing it. Each one was, in a way, a work of art, reflecting the wearer¡¯s personal style.


    The armor itself would be kept as part of the users personal belongings; if they came back as an adult, then it was something that was considered their first possession as an adult. Sheilah herself in a way defied that tradition in a small way; her bow and quiver were weapons she had crafted herself, rather than relying on the heirloom weapons that her family had collected throughout the generations.


    Many Dragon Clan members that faced the trials would bring their oldest family weapons as a way of showing prestige and honoring the ancestors that first crafted them, while others would bring the weapons their parents had used in their hunts as a way of honoring the people that were closest to them, while others would bring the weapons that they were the most familiar with, without regard to where they had come from in their family¡¯s lineage.


    Each family had their own ideas of what was appropriate and which brought the most honor.


    An heirloom weapon was crafted from a dragon tooth, a dragon bone, and bound in dragon hide. There were spears and swords and daggers of varying lengths and styles depending on the size of the dragon that the hunter managed to kill. Dragons were often difficult to track because they had the ability to fly, so often a dragon fight boiled down to a ¡°first-come, first-served¡± basis.


    There were other Totems that lurked in the Ashlands as well, just as fierce and just as terrifying as a dragon. Part of the hunt involved avoiding these, since attacking one would anger the totem as well as creating unnecessary friction in the clans.


    There was the rest of the world, there was the Redstone Clans, there was your own clan, then there was your tribe, but ultimately, it was just you, in the waste, representing yourself before the Great Totems.


    ¡°You¡¯re taking your bow into the Ashlands?¡± Davian asked Sheilah as she was trying the fitting on one of her gloves.


    She nodded. She couldn¡¯t figure out a way to explain how it felt, that her families¡¯ weapons had rejected her. They felt strange and foreign to her in her hand, as if they didn¡¯t belong there.


    ¡°A bow, no matter how finely crafted, will likely not have the power to hurt a dragon.¡± He warned. ¡°Their hides are tough.¡± He paused. ¡°There are stories that an arrow to the eye might kill one if it penetrated deep enough to reach the brain, but...¡± He shook his head. ¡°I think they¡¯re fairy tales. You¡¯ll understand when you see one. A dragon is a monster, a creature so large it can bite you in half and swallow you in two gulps.¡±


    He snorted. ¡°Personally, I wish I¡¯d had a bazooka when I went on my hunt, but even if I had, I don¡¯t think it would have done any good.¡±


    She gave him a baffled look, but he waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Nevermind that. You should at least have a sword or a spear with you as well, for when your bow fails.¡±


    She gave him a hurt look, but he ruffled her hair.


    ¡°Listen: Dragons are strong, and they¡¯re armored. Their hides are tough, and their ferocity is unmatched. Regardless of the size and age of the dragon you stalk, you will find yourself overpowered very quickly.¡±


    ¡°Size? Age?¡± She asked. He blinked, but nodded.


    ¡°The young dragons have one horn. The older dragons will have two horns growing from the back of their skulls.¡± He made a sweeping gesture at the back of his head.


    ¡°The oldest dragon has four horns. The two above, and two more on the skull plate, in order to protect its neck. Your great-great grandfather Adlan would be able to tell you more, he was a collector of draconic lore.¡±


    He took a long breath and let it out. ¡°A bow doesn¡¯t stand a chance.¡±


    ¡°You dropped a rock on one, right?¡± Sheilah asked.


    He snorted. ¡°That¡¯s the story. I¡¯ll tell you the truth, though: I found a den and I was lucky. I heard the dragon coming out and I shoved a boulder off the top of the cave mouth. It happened to fall off the dragon¡¯s head by luck. The rock happened to be above the dragon¡¯s cave by coincidence. The tales say I stood above the cave and hurled boulders on it until it was dead.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I was lucky... and I was terrified.¡± he admitted.


    He took her shoulders. ¡°Take my sword. It¡¯s my responsibility that you¡¯re as prepared as possible, and I want you to come back alive. I want you to come back alive with a dragon bone and a dragon tooth as proof you¡¯ve succeeded... but above all that, I want you to come back alive.¡±


    Her face twisted. He wanted her to come back, even if she failed? His expectations of her were that low, that he expected failure, he expected her to come back in shame?

 Chapter 18

    Sheilah tossed and turned all night.


    Dragonling blood was intoxicating, invigorating, what would the blood of an adult dragon be like?


    Where should she shoot? Under the jaw, in the tender place between the jaw and the neck? In the eye? Behind the jaw? There was a weak point where the hide was flexible behind the forearm, where it joined the body. Should she fire there, and risk a shot to the heart?


    What were the Ashlands truly like? Was the air truly poison? Was it a land filled with demons and monsters? Were there really giants? There were many totems, but there was no Totem of the Giant.


    There would be plenty of time to sleep on the trip to the Ashlands, she supposed. Once the tension wore off on the trip, she¡¯d be able to sleep. Who would be coming along with her? Likely Fialla, they were nearly the same age. Kellia and Sellia weren¡¯t quite old enough, and they hadn¡¯t filled their necklaces, either. There might be others from other tribes; she wasn¡¯t sure. The important part was that each hunt was done alone.


    A man (or woman) lived and died by their own strength. That was life in the Redstone, and that¡¯s how it was in the Trial as well.


    There were hundreds of stories from successful hunts. Some used spears, some used swords, some used the natural advantages of the Ashlands to lure dragons into opportune spots, but the results were the same: You killed a dragon, you drank some of its blood, you ate its heart, you cut out one of its mighty fangs and took a bone from the body as well as some of the hide so that you could craft your own weapon.


    If you died, whatever was left of you was eventually brought home to the Valley. Dragon tooth weapons were impossible to break; they were forged from a dragon¡¯s teeth, teeth that devoured unknowable beasts, teeth that crushed boulders, teeth that had been flame-tempered and forged in the fury of a dragon¡¯s breath. Eventually, the weapons found their way home back to the Valley.


    When she came back from the hunt, she would be considered an adult. No more leniencies would be allowed. She would be treated as an adult, with an adult¡¯s responsibilities. She would be ready to choose a husband, mother children, and teach them the stories and songs, send them to trap whelplings.


    She wasn¡¯t ready at all to be an adult. She wasn¡¯t ready to be an adult, but she¡¯d outgrown the role of a child. It fit her like too-tight clothing.


    She tossed aside the blankets and moved to the central fire, and nursed the coals into a small flame.


    Eventually her father Davian joined her. He didn¡¯t say anything, simply put a small pot over the firepit and brewed tea.


    ¡°When I was your age, Adlan and Lonato taught me, together, what it meant to be a child of the Dragon Clan. What it meant. The responsibilities, the stories, the rituals, the ancient ways and what they meant to us. They taught me what it meant to be of the Clan of the Tyrant.¡±


    He paused. ¡°My father didn¡¯t like it. He ...¡± he let out a sigh. ¡°Father believed in the men from Stormheim. He worked in the stables. He made horseshoes for the Stormheim horses that the Stormheim men rode through our valleys.¡± He let out another sigh. ¡°I believed in my grandfather and great-grandfather more than I did my father. Everyone treated him like a traitor. Worse, they looked at him as less than a man. He didn¡¯t hunt; he¡¯d never even been to the Ashlands.¡±


    He spoke in a low voice, and prodded the fire with a stick.


    Sheilah¡¯s eyes were wide at this. Nobody spoke of Rawls, her grandfather. Not by name, not by mention. He wasn¡¯t in their songs and stories.


    ¡°My grandfather and great-grandfather had an argument with my father. He was a disgrace. A humiliation in the eyes of the Tyrant. He was leading us down the path of ruin.¡±


    The fire cast flickering light on the face of her father, he was irritable and moody.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t take it. I took my grandfather¡¯s knife, my great-grandfather¡¯s sword, and I headed for the Burning Wastes on my own. I was impatient, angry, frustrated, upset.¡±


    He let out a breath. ¡°There, I found my dragon. I bested my dragon. I came home in triumph, a song of valor on my lips and a dragon tooth on my back. I thought... I thought it might... mean something to my father. Show him what it meant to me, what it meant to all of us.¡±


    His face twisted.


    ¡°He was there when I was sold as a slave to the Stormheim men. The Clans are savages, with no understanding of the culture of men. It was perfectly fine to buy and sell the Clansmen because we weren¡¯t human.¡±


    He spat into the fire.


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    ¡°The Tyrant will judge me for this, but he... wasn¡¯t completely wrong, you know.¡±


    She gave him a puzzled look.


    ¡°The men of Stormheim were once clansmen like us, though from a different land. They¡¯d come together and put aside their differences. They stopped living in huts and caves and tents and built homes from wood and stone. Taught themselves how to do it, generation after generation.¡± He sighed again.


    ¡°In a hundred years- or a thousand, our clans will do the same. We¡¯ll set aside differences. Rites and rituals and stories and songs will be forgotten. We¡¯ll build our own cities. That¡¯s what people do. In a way, the men of Stormheim just wanted to hurry us along.¡± He paused. ¡°What they did was wholeheartedly wrong in every way you can describe it... but it will eventually happen to us in the way it happened to Stormheim.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t accept that.¡± Sheilah spat.


    He gave her a sardonic chuckle. ¡°I wonder if you¡¯ll feel that way two years from now. Ten. Fifty.¡± He gave her a lopsided smile. ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you long after my bones are dust and ash, and when you die, I¡¯ll ask you again, soul to soul.¡±


    He poured tea for the both of them.


    ¡°If you can¡¯t wait to leave for your hunt, your things are just outside. I was young and impatient too.¡± He paused. ¡°I still am, in some ways. Ladria accuses me of it from time to time.¡±


    ¡°I can... leave? Just like that?¡± She asked.


    He nodded. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely free. If you want to go, you¡¯ll go with my blessing. Fialla might yell at you when she catches up, however.¡±


    He took a drink of his tea and eyed her over the cup.


    ¡°And when I come back, we¡¯ll have a conversation, right?¡± She asked.


    He nodded. ¡°No secrets.¡±


    She swallowed her tea. ¡°I ... think I¡¯ll go.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I was impatient, too. There¡¯s value to be found in patience, though. Remember that.¡± He levered himself to his feet. ¡°Before you go, though...¡±


    He disappeared into the area he shared with his two wives, and came back with a bundle that he indifferently tossed at her. He moved into the kitchen and selected meat, several wheels of goat cheese, a bottle of water, and some bread.


    She opened the bundle and discovered a change of clothing, and some of the absorbent strips of cloth that were used to deal with the feminine condition.


    He came back from the kitchen, and then sat down opposite the fire from her again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you some advice, first: Don¡¯t go into the Ashlands if you¡¯re... if your monthly visitor has arrived. They¡¯ll smell the blood.¡±


    ¡°The dragons?¡± She asked.


    He shook his head. ¡°Everything.¡± He replied.


    She nodded.


    ¡°Secondly, take my sword. It doesn¡¯t have a storied history of legend and lore.¡± She frowned at that, but took it anyway. It didn¡¯t quite feel as alien and strange as the other weapons her family carried, but it wasn¡¯t her weapon.


    ¡°Finally...¡± there was a great deal of reluctance in his posture in his voice. Whatever he was going to do, he didn¡¯t want to do it.


    He pulled out a very slim steel dagger, with a blade as thin as her two fingers and a bit longer than his hand. The handle was some carved yellow ...thing that didn¡¯t seem to be stone or bone. An iridescent stone glimmered between pommel and blade. The blade was very fine and sharp, the sheath was steel as well, with some sort of leather padding inside to keep the blade from slipping out.


    ¡°You should take this with you when you face the Tyrant.¡±


    She eyed him narrowly across the fire. The people of the Clan used dragonbone, dragon teeth, and dragon metal. Only the people from Stormheim used steel.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll answer that when you come back. For now, know that you should take it with you into the Ashlands.¡±


    ¡°This-¡±


    ¡°-Has a story that goes with it, one that I can only tell you when you come back.¡± He cut her off.


    She finished her tea, took the bundles, and stepped out of the tent.


    The nights in the Valley were freezing. She dressed in her leathers, which had been waiting outside, in the cold. She knew they¡¯d eventually warm with her body heat, but it wasn¡¯t doing her any favors now. The leather was cold and stiff and difficult to move in. She belted on her father¡¯s sword and tucked the sheathed dagger into her boot. She settled her quiver on her hip, took up her bow, and began walking out of camp with a determined stride.


    The passes to the Ashlands called to her with a siren song she didn¡¯t hear, only felt in her bones and blood, and she hurried towards them as quickly as she could. The mazes of twisting canyons, hills and steppes was vast and stretched for miles in every direction that brought confusion to those that didn¡¯t call it home. Even the Clans that called it home didn¡¯t know the whole of it, if what Sheilah had heard of the land from the Clan leaders was true.


    It was possible that they were lying; you kept your territory secret, after all. The Clans were one, but your clan came before the others. The Clan was everything, but the Tribe came first. The Tribe was everything, but your family came first.


    Your family was everything, but before that, you lived and died by your own strength.


    If you completed the preparations, then you were sent into the Burning Lands to hunt your Totem, subjugate it, make it yours. By making it yours, you joined the line of your ancestors that reached all the way back to the Beginning. The Trial. The rite of passage that made adults of children.


    Sheilah had been preparing for it for as long as she could remember. Her little sisters were still preparing. Her friend Fialla had been preparing. Sheilah had no doubt that Fialla would be right behind her.


    By the time she hit the valley floor, she was running.

 Chapter 19

    ¡°You¡¯re very good at sneaking up on me, aren¡¯t you?¡± Sheilah observed dryly without opening her eyes.


    ¡°Rude.¡± Fialla accused. ¡°I haven¡¯t ¡®snuck up on you¡¯ at all. I was keeping watch.¡±


    Sheilah sat up, dusted the dirt from her hands, and rubbed her face to clear her mind; her dreams had been especially vivid.


    ¡°A man lives and dies by their own strength.¡± Sheilah replied, and Fialla laughed.


    ¡°I have roots and vegetables I baked in the coals, as well as some fresh meat.¡± She offered generously.


    ¡°Tempting. I have to make some water, first.¡± Sheilah replied, and Fialla nodded.


    Sheilah returned to the campfire and accepted the food with a wry look. Fialla passed the food over as if she hadn¡¯t seen the look and they ate in silence.


    After they ate, Fialla buried the remains of their meal along with the fire, shouldered her spear, and gestured for Sheilah to lead.


    ¡°You seem eager to go.¡± Sheilah remarked, and Fialla nodded.


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s not just you that¡¯s been having... problems.¡± She explained. ¡°I feel... irritable. Eager. Frustrated. Impatient.¡± She paused and shrugged. ¡°I can¡¯t explain it, but I just know that I...¡± She held up her hand and examined it. ¡°I don¡¯t belong there alongside Sellia and Kellia, preparing. I¡¯m ready. I feel the call.¡±


    Sheilah passed Fialla a honey drop, who examined it briefly, eyes wide, and tucked it in her mouth with a murmured thanks.


    ¡°I dream of my ancestors, calling to me. It¡¯s strange to see my human great-grandmother that I have never met urging me to hurry to the Ash Wastes.¡± She gave Sheilah a baffled look. She paused and then added, ¡°It¡¯s hard, seeing them all human. I love my mother and my father, of course,¡± she explained, ¡°but my father is a Wild Elf. He tells me stories of the Wild Elves so that I will remember my heritage, but they¡¯re so different from what my mother teaches me of the Valley.¡± She frowned, looking down at the ground. ¡°I stand between them, neither human or elven.¡± She fixed her gaze on Sheilah. ¡°It¡¯s hard for me, to have one foot in one people, and to have the other in another.¡±


    Sheilah blinked. She¡¯d had no idea her friend felt that way.


    ¡°My family¡¯s weapons feel strange in my hands, as if I don¡¯t quite belong.¡± Fialla continued. ¡°How should I feel about that?¡± She asked the taller girl. ¡°You¡¯re truly from the Valley, right? Do you know what I should to do to...¡± She paused, and Sheilah, could see Fialla¡¯s eyes flicking back and forth as she racked her brain for the best way to finish her sentence, ¡°...belong?¡±


    Sheilah didn¡¯t have an answer for her. She felt the same way, as if she both did and did not belong. She didn¡¯t know how to answer the half-elven girl.


    ¡°I think that if you¡¯re going to keep an eye out for things, you should probably keep an eye out for things.¡± Sheilah offered, and pointed to a short cliff off in the distance, roughly half her height.


    At the base of the cliff was a number of lizards, each about as long as her hand, slim and nimble. They were predatory and carnivorous by nature. A single bite from one of them wasn¡¯t difficult to deal with, though they were mildly poisonous. What made them dangerous was that they moved in swarms. Somewhere under that cliff was a vast nest of tunnels, and inside that nest was the queen, a much larger lizard that required a steady supply of meat in order to lay more eggs and breed more of their kind.


    ¡°Have they spotted us?¡± Fialla asked in a whisper.


    ¡°If they had, we¡¯d be running until they caught us.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°We¡¯ll go east for a bit.¡±


    Fialla nodded, and the two of them backed away from the nest as quickly and stealthily as they could.


    After several miles, Sheilah and Fialla let out relieved sighs that they didn¡¯t know they were holding.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do better, Sheilah.¡± Fialla promised. She impulsively threw her arms around Sheilah in an embrace. ¡°I won¡¯t fail you. I¡¯ll do better.¡±


    Sheilah patted the half-elven girl awkwardly on the back. ¡°We both will.¡± Sheilah promised, and Fialla agreed.


    They resumed their march towards the Ashlands, keeping an eye out for all of the things that could kill them. The Valley was a harsh place to live, and there were a number of things that could kill the unwary, from deadly monsters, animals, and insects to risky terrain. Giant boulders that could crush you, gravel pits that could suck you to unknown depths, plants with lethal poisons and deadly spines.


    ¡°Tell me about the Wild Elves.¡± Sheilah urged her shadow.


    ¡°Even though you ask me like that, I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± Fialla replied.


    ¡°Well...¡± Sheilah trailed off in thought as they carefully picked their way through a path of shale. The thin, flat rocks snapped and crunched under their feet as they traversed it.


    ¡°Wild Elves... we came from the northern continent.¡± Fialla explained.


    ¡°What¡¯s a continent?¡± Sheilah asked, to which Fialla shrugged.


    ¡°Anyway, Father says our homeland was similar to the Valley, but we had forests and rivers, and that¡¯s where we lived until the High Elves came and took us away.¡±


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    ¡°What¡¯s a High Elf?¡± Sheilah asked. Fialla shrugged her shoulders again, and prodded the ground ahead of her with the butt of her spear to test the ground.


    ¡°There apparently are three types of elves: The High Elves that rule over everything, The Dark Elves that do whatever the High Elves ask, and then the Wild Elves, who preferred to live with neither of them.¡±


    ¡°...okay.¡± Sheilah replied, watching where Fialla placed her feet and following the shorter girl¡¯s path.


    ¡°The Wild Elves were made slaves to the High Elves. As for the rest... well, your father probably told you that part already.¡±


    Sheilah stopped suddenly, while Fialla continued prodding forward with her spear. She stopped and looked back at Sheilah.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Sheilah asked dumbly.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Fialla replied back, a confused look on her face.


    ¡°Father doesn¡¯t speak much of anything about ... what happened before.¡± Sheilah replied numbly.


    Fialla blinked in shock. ¡°Well, there are stories aplenty. You¡¯ve heard them as well as I.¡± She gestured. ¡°There¡¯s better footing just up that way. Let me check it out and then we¡¯ll have a water break.¡±


    The lithe half-elf carefully prodded her way over to a slight rise, peered over the side, , and then waved for Sheilah to follow.


    Sheilah followed Fialla, again in the other girl¡¯s footsteps, until she was on the slight rise with her friend.


    ¡°Your father, who was a slave to the Stormheim prince, met the princess of the Wild Elves, who was a slave to a High Elf.¡± Fialla passed a skin of water to Sheilah, who took a small swallow to cut the dust in her mouth, rinsed and swallowed, took one more, and then passed the skin back.


    ¡°According to my father, Davian accidentally courted Ladria in the same way a potential suitor might; and between the two of them, they organized a revolt against the High Elves and their Dark Elf underlings.¡±


    Sheilah took a breath in shock. ¡°Mother is a princess?¡± She exclaimed, baffled. ¡°I never heard of this!¡±


    Fialla stared at her, her mouth agape. ¡°They never told you?¡±


    Sheilah shook her head numbly. ¡°In retrospect it¡¯s obvious, but they never spoke of it directly and I never put it together.¡±


    Fialla rubbed her face lightly with her fingertips. ¡°I had no idea. I thought you knew.¡± She murmured.


    She took a breath. ¡°The rest is like the stories say: He led us from the Northern Continent, through Stormheim lands, fought a duel with the king of Stormheim and won the right for us to live in the Valley and the ownership of the Redstone Valley would remain with the Clans. Stormheim was driven out, and here we are.¡± Fialla finished.


    Her head whipped around and she stood in a flash, leveling her spear.


    Sheilah scrambled to her feet, nocking an arrow.


    Off in the distance, a lone figure trotted toward them.


    As the figure got closer, it resolved into a young man with silvery-white hair, who, once he spotted them, waved his hands over his head.


    Sheilah tucked her arrow back in her quiver.


    ¡°A clansman.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°Not a Dragon.¡± Fialla replied back quietly. ¡°Maybe a Thunderbird, or a Spider.¡±


    Sheilah nocked her arrow again. It wasn¡¯t unheard of for clansmen to kill each other, nor was it unheard of for clansmen to kill each other in the Trials. There was plenty of bad blood between the Thunderbirds and the Dragons in particular.


    A man lived and died by his own strength in the Valley.


    He drew closer and hollered up at them. ¡°My name is Olin, of the Glass Spider Clan. Can I rest with you?¡±


    ¡°We have nothing to spare for you.¡± Fialla called down, and he shook his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± He called back.


    ¡°Should we let him up here?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°My judgement hasn¡¯t been so great lately... I¡¯ll leave it to you.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I will keep my arrow nocked, though.¡±


    Fialla settled her spear and waved him to come ahead.


    He scurried up the hill nimbly and then threw himself down with a sigh. ¡°You have no idea how happy I am to find a safe spot to rest!¡± he gasped. He fumbled out a waterskin and drank a few swallows.


    ¡°Your Trial?¡± Fialla asked, and he nodded.


    ¡°I set out with my brother.¡± He explained. ¡°We ran into... Hive Lizards.¡± He paused, and shook his head. ¡°He didn¡¯t make it.¡± He was out of breath and sweating profusely.


    Fialla and Sheilah traded looks at that.


    He looked up at the two of them. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about me. I figured if it was safe enough for you two, it¡¯d be safe enough for me. I needed a spot to rest.¡± He paused. ¡°I haven¡¯t stopped running since...¡± He shrugged.


    He fumbled out a ration bar and wolfed it down, and chased it with another drink from his skin.


    ¡°So, what clan are you from? Mountain Cat? Horned Snake?¡± He asked curiously.


    Sheilah and Fialla¡¯s faces both went flat and cool.


    ¡°Dragon.¡± Sheilah replied.


    His eyes went wide at that and he scrambled to his feet. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have bothered you!¡± He immediately barked, flinching back.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t our territory.¡± Fialla remarked drily. ¡°Rest as much as you like. We¡¯re on our way to the Deathlands as well.¡±


    He nodded and straightened. ¡°Can I sit?¡±


    ¡°Sit, stand, crawl or walk, it makes no difference to us.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°We¡¯re heading for the pass, same as you.¡±


    He slumped to the ground in relief and visibly relaxed.


    ¡°I heard Adlan¡¯s Rest was nearby.¡± He offered. ¡°I think I¡¯d like to see it.¡±


    Sheilah raised an eyebrow at that.


    ¡°You know of my great-great-grandfather?¡± Sheilah asked, incredulous.


    Olin¡¯s eyes popped open at that, wide with shock. ¡°You- I- He-¡± He stammered, and then he ran his fingers through his hair.


    ¡°He¡¯s famous in the Clans. Who wouldn¡¯t know of him?¡± He asked in a baffled voice. Sheilah nodded. Adlan was famous, a man who followed the ancient ways.


    Sheilah could suddenly feel the pressure of the Dragon behind her eyes, and so she closed them for a moment, trying to force it down and back.


    They stayed that way for a long moment while the arid wind blew through the Redstone. Olin turned over on his side, and Sheilah elbowed Fialla. The boy had fallen asleep, it seemed.


    Fialla gave Sheilah a baffled look, and pointed north. Sheilah nodded, and they quietly left Olin to his nap.


    A man lived and died by his own strength.

 Chapter 20

    ¡°Well, this certainly looks familiar.¡± Sheilah offered drily as she surveyed the area. On one side of the pass that led up to the short box canyon that led to the spring she¡¯d recovered with Fialla some months before was the skeleton of a dragonling. Scavengers had been at it, leaving nothing behind but the bones.


    On the other side of the box canyon was a gnarled and twisted tree with leafless branches and a somewhat desiccated, sooty look.


    ¡°You were very busy.¡± Fialla complimented, drawing a scowl from Sheilah.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s a compliment or a curse.¡± She replied. ¡°I was barely in my own mind most of the time.¡±


    ¡°Are you now?¡± Fialla asked as she used the toe of her boot to prod the bones.


    ¡°Very funny. Wasn¡¯t the cave with the pool somewhere around here? You led me there before. We might be able to rest for a bit.¡± Sheilah asked.


    It had been a month and a half since they left Olin to whatever fate he faced, a little more than two since they¡¯d left the steppes of the Dragon Clan.


    Fialla eyed the sky, cupping her hand to shade her face. ¡°We can try. It might make food difficult.¡±


    Sheilah frowned. ¡°What are we expected to eat in the Burning Lands?¡± She complained. ¡°We were only expected to take as much food as we could carry.¡±


    Fialla glanced at Sheilah. ¡°We¡¯ve hunted enough to eat here... it¡¯s probably the same past the passes.¡±


    Sheilah took a step towards the narrow entrance of the canyon, but Fialla reached out, super-quick, snatched her collar, and dragged her back. ¡°Wait.¡±


    Sheilah gave the half-elven girl a confused look. ¡°Wait? Why? Don¡¯t you want a hot bath?¡±


    ¡°I do, but wait. I need to think.¡± the smaller girl muttered with a frown.


    ¡°Okay, but while you think, I¡¯m going to go-¡± Sheilah began, but Fialla hooked her foot around Sheilah¡¯s, dropping the taller girl to her knees.


    ¡°I¡¯ll follow you anywhere, even to the Lands of the Traitorous Dead in the heart of the High Elf territory Sheilah, but please, I just want you to wait a little bit.¡± Fialla urged.


    Sheilah looked back at the half-elven girl, and recognized the studious frown on her face.


    ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll wait, but I will remind you that there¡¯s a hot bath in that canyon.¡± Sheilah argued, pulling herself to her feet.


    ¡°I know. I¡¯d like a bath, myself. But something seems off.¡±


    ¡°What seems off?¡± Sheilah demanded truculently.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that tree was there before.¡± Fialla finally replied reluctantly.


    Sheilah eyed the thing. It looked like a dead tree, with gray, fissured bark and a few leafless limbs. It wasn¡¯t particularly tall, only about twelve feet in height.


    Plants were important things to be aware of in the Redstone. Which were helpful, which were harmful, which could keep you alive, and which could kill you.


    Trees only existed in the lands that belonged to the land of the Mountain Cat, and they didn¡¯t look at all like this one, Sheilah reasoned, and took a couple of steps away from it.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s dangerous?¡± Sheilah asked Fialla.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t even been a year since we were here last.¡± Fialla offered by way of explanation. ¡°Look how thick it is; if the tree just started growing before we left, it¡¯d be tiny.¡± She paused. ¡°I think it¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. There were carnivorous plants here and there that ate insects and small animals, there were constricting vines with poisonous thorns that would kill you; it would feed on your decaying remains. There was even a kind of flower that would shoot its seeds out like darts. The seeds were barbed so that they would pierce skin and flesh and work their way inwards, where they would germinate inside, gaining nourishment from your blood. Once that happened, death was certain, as they were impossible to cut out of the flesh without killing the victim.


    If you didn¡¯t know what a particular plant was, It made sense to steer clear of it.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    ¡°Fire seems like the best idea.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°I have a few branches, we can start a small fire and toss them at the tree and see what happens.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, and helped Fialla kindle a small fire.


    They tossed the burning bits of wood at the base of the tree, and stumbled backwards as the thing swelled, balloonlike, the bark losing its gray tones, turning a brilliant, vibrant red, as if suffused with blood. The trunk split open in a vertical gash, peeling back to reveal sharp, hooked teeth. Tendrils slithered out from the mouth, probing, seeking.


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    The branches at the top of the trunk likewise had swollen along with the rest of the body, sprouting eyes  that swiveled and swung about, blinking wetly and searching for a target.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of this!¡± Sheilah blurted, stepping further back and nocking an arrow. ¡°Father told me about them when I was a child- this is a Blood Tree!¡± She explained as Fialla scooped up her spear and leveled it at the creature.


    ¡°Did he tell you how to kill it?¡± Fialla yelled as it started pulling its roots from the ground and started lurching towards them.


    ¡°They¡¯re hard to kill.¡± Sheilah panted as she backed up, head on a swivel. She spotted a boulder; that might be a good spot to climb up on if things got serious. She drew the arrow she¡¯d nocked and searched for a specific spot she¡¯d try to use to gain an advantage.


    ¡°Beware the Blood Tree." Her father offered as they ate their dinner meal. ¡°It looks like a dry, withered tree, but it¡¯s not a tree at all. When you get near it, the beast splits open and tentacles will spit out of its mouth and stab themselves into you. It¡¯ll inject its young into you, and they¡¯ll feed on you from the inside, planting themselves through your feet and into the ground... and then there will be two trees, lurking and waiting for someone to get close.¡±


    ¡°How do you kill them?¡± Sheilah had asked curiously, all nine years of age.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard. It¡¯s damn hard. They¡¯re smart, and the thing has layers of bone armor under the skin. If you injure them, they¡¯ll heal up right away. You stab them through the heart and it¡¯ll die, but it¡¯ll inject some of its young into the ground, and they¡¯ll stick up like little hooks like this¡± he hooked his index finger to demonstrate, ¡°perfect for slicing through the feet of the next sorry bastard-¡±


    ¡°Language.¡± Ladria called from her spot, working on a bit of embroidery in the firelight.


    ¡°- well, you get the idea.¡± He offered with a roll of his eyes and a half smile. ¡°The key is to find the brain. I found the brain at the base of the Blood Tree. There was a sort of a ...white- gray spot in the skin. The brain is right there. No bone there at all. It¡¯s a small spot, though. Until you¡¯re an adult, the best thing for you to do is run away and tell an adult.¡± He paused in thought. ¡°The only one I know of that ever successfully managed to kill one on his own was Adlan... and that was so long ago it may as well have been just a story.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Sheilah announced to Fialla. ¡°We¡¯re fucked, but... maybe not that bad. I don¡¯t know.¡± she added.


    The Half-elven girl gave her a dubious look and kept backing away.


    ¡°You can¡¯t attack with the spear. It¡¯s got a longer reach than you, so get behind me and act as my eyes so I don¡¯t step into something worse.¡±


    The Blood tree surged towards them, its myriad root-like tentacles spidering across the ground, digging into the gravelly purchase of the Redstone Valley in chase after the two girls. The tentacles from its mouth squirmed and writhed as the branchlike eyestalks that sprouted from the top of it glared at them in mute, insensate hatred. A number of holes along its sides opened and closed in rhythmic breathing, sucking air in whistling gasps and letting it out.


    Sheilah kept eying the base of the monster, looking for that one spot her father had mentioned, but the thing twisted and pulsated so much that she couldn¡¯t spot it.


    ¡°Higher ground ahead!¡± Fialla warned, and Sheilah hazarded a quick glance. There was a low stone shelf that she was only a few steps from tripping over. She stepped up on it and kept backing up.


    ¡°Maybe it won¡¯t climb up here-¡± Sheilah began and just as quickly cut herself up as the tentacle-roots squirmed up onto the rocky shelf and heaved it up onto the stony shelf. The gaping mouth opened and closed, the spiracles hooting, a viscous liquid dribbling from all of its orifices.


    ¡°We¡¯re fucked!¡± Fialla shouted nervously. ¡°We¡¯ve got nowhere to back up to, now!¡± Sheilah glanced back, and realized that they¡¯d arrived at the boulder she¡¯d spotted earlier.


    ¡°Climb up!¡± Sheilah urged. She heard Fialla scaling the boulder behind her, and wondered if the thing that squirmed and wriggled its way towards them would give her time to make the same climb.


    ¡°I... can¡¯t make the climb, Fialla. It¡¯ll get me if I try.¡± Sheilah realized aloud. ¡°I think I¡¯m fucked.¡±


    Fialla¡¯s spear cut across the air and slashed one of the eyestalk-branches, chopping into it, splashing blood everywhere. It let out a weird, bleating scream at this, and its mouth-tentacles surged out straight for Sheilah.


    Sheilah herself launched herself off the stone shelf onto the gravelly floor of the Redstone Valley that led to the passes. The Blood Tree squealed in frustration as it missed its target.


    Sheilah rolled, her quiver spraying her arrows everywhere, even as Fialla chopped at the eyestalks with her spear safely from atop the boulder, where its tentacles couldn¡¯t reach. Sheilah grabbed an arrow, her clawlike nails scraping in the gravel, striking sparks.


    As the thing probed the side of the boulder with its tongues to try and find a way up to get the half-elf girl that was hurting it so much, Sheilah nocked- and spotting the pale gray-white blotch of its brain bulging beneath the membrane of its flesh- loosed her fearsome bolt.


    The whole thing seized up, every limb shivering for a moment before it slumped over.


    Fialla peeked over the boulder.


    ¡°Is it dead?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t fuck with it.¡± Sheilah replied, scooping up her fallen arrows. ¡°Can you jump down from there?¡±


    The lithe girl jumped down nimbly from the boulder and helped Sheilah pick up her arrows.


    ¡°That thing is... disgusting.¡± She observed, and then added, ¡°You¡¯re all bloody.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one that made it bleed all over me.¡± Sheilah complained, and then hugged the smaller girl. ¡°Thank you for... thank you for everything.¡± Sheilah finished, exhausted.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I think we need that bath now.¡± She decided, and Sheilah nodded with a dry chuckle.


    The path that led to the cave was a short winding trail into a box canyon that passed through a thriving meadow and terminated in the entrance to the cave. How the meadow came to be, how it was able to flourish in a desolate land like the Redstone was a complete mystery.


    Since there was only one river that fed into a lake in the heart of the Redstone, and since the area itself around the river flourished, perhaps the springs that Fialla had found so long ago also nourished the land in some way.


    Sheilah was barely coherent when Fialla had led her into and out of the narrow canyon, so she didn¡¯t remember anything of it before.


    What occupied her attention, however, were the giants that had set up camp in it. Red-skinned and titanic, the smallest at least twice as tall as her father, they ambled through the clearing, and grouped up around a somewhat large campfire in front of a large-ish tent that could have housed several families.


    The sight of the double dozen of them was enough to make the two girls sigh in frustration.

 Chapter 21

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to give up on the cave.¡± Fialla decided.


    ¡°Who says we have to?¡± Sheilah asked. ¡°They¡¯ll be easy compared to... that... thing.¡± She pointed out. ¡°A few arrows, burn the tent down, and we¡¯re done.¡±


    Fialla glared at the other girl. ¡°Are you out of your mind? We should just go to the pass!¡± She argued. ¡°We¡¯ve got more important things to do besides-¡± She cut off as the golden ring appeared in Sheilah¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°They don¡¯t belong in our lands.¡± Sheilah stated flatly. ¡°Our lands. These lands belong to us. That meadow belongs to us. This canyon is ours. The cave is ours. I will not allow them to think that they belong here.¡± She finished in a snarl.


    Fialla wanted to argue with Sheilah, but couldn¡¯t find the words. Any member of the Clans would feel the same, and they¡¯d do exactly what Sheilah was planning on doing- murder them all.


    ¡°We can do it after the trial.¡± Fialla decided.


    ¡°No.¡± Sheilah decided, nocking her first arrow. ¡°It starts now.¡±


    Fialla watched Sheilah stalk across the meadow, examining her kills, tugging her arrows out of the bodies of the fallen giants, tossing burning logs into the tent until it blazed furiously.


    Where had the giants gotten the cloth? Where had they gotten the wood? There were no trees this far north.


    One of the giants struggled to rise; apparently Sheilah¡¯s arrow hadn¡¯t been wholly lethal. Sheilah shoved her sword into the giant¡¯s ear, causing it to flop down again limply. She jerked her blade out and wiped it on the back of the giant¡¯s skull.


    She herself sat with her grandfather¡¯s spear across her knees, watching Sheilah work. Her friend had been ruthless, firing arrows into the giants with an almost surgical precision. Many of the giants had dropped without even knowing that they¡¯d died.


    ¡°Her bow certainly is something.¡± Fialla muttered, but that wasn¡¯t how she really felt. What she was really in awe of was Sheilah herself.


    Fialla- and the other elves and half-elves that lived in the Redstone Valley- always felt a little separate, a little distant from the human occupants of the Redstone. The elves were welcomed as kin wherever they went, but there was always a bit of distance, a brief hesitation from the elves. The humans, they were the true owners of the Redstone. The land was hard and pitiless and yet they thrived here. They had their ways, their language, their customs and culture, and were stubborn in them. They refused to give an inch of this harsh and pitiless land to anyone. If one clan had a rock, and someone from another clan dared sit on it, that was enough to draw an argument. It was baffling- who would fight over something as simple as a rock?- but it was part of their lives.


    Fialla envied Sheilah a little. She belonged here in the Redstone. She was a part of the people in a way that the elves couldn¡¯t hope to be, no matter how hard they tried. They had histories here. Stories, legends, heroes, and unbroken lines of ancestry stretching back centuries.


    What did the elves have in the face of that? They were refugees. Welcomed and embraced by the Clans, surely, but they had no such histories. Fialla was part of a generation that bridged the gap between the elves and the clansmen that dwelled here, but what then? Would the elves eventually disappear? Would the Elves intermarry into the clans until the elves themselves were nothing more than pointed ears and an inclination to be shorter and slimmer than others?


    Would they truly belong, then?


    Where did they truly belong?


    Her father talked about their lives as slaves, stripped of homelands, histories, identities.


    They had nothing until Davian gave them a home that wasn¡¯t theirs, Totems they didn¡¯t understand, and a way of life they didn¡¯t completely understand, all under an ultimatum that every single one of them spoke daily: You live and die with your own strength.


    It took a ferocious strength to live in these lands. It seemed like a land that existed to kill them. It hammered the weak until they broke, and then mercilessly ground them under.


    Sheilah, at least, belonged here fully. She could recite her family going back generations, could fight and run and hunt and did everything expected of her. The girl, still not even fourteen, strode to where Fialla sat, her quiver filled with bloody arrows and a fire in her eyes that belonged to the Dragon.


    Fialla herself felt the call of the Dragon herself; she¡¯d killed her share of dragonlings while chasing after the taller human girl. She¡¯d drank their blood, eaten their hearts, skinned their hides and eaten their flesh the same as Sheilah.


    Sheilah was Fialla¡¯s hero, seemingly able to do anything and everything asked of her.


    ¡°How about that bath?¡± Sheilah asked Fialla.


    Fialla levered herself up with a spear that was made before her parents had been born. Her family had told her that she was just as welcome to use it as her other family members had. They¡¯d earned the right, and by right of blood, so had she.


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    Part of her belonged to the Valley, and she would do her best in her own hunt so that her children and her children¡¯s children might tell stories of her.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it already.¡± She replied to Sheilah. ¡°Did you lose any arrows?¡±


    The taller girl shook her head. ¡°The only one I lost was to the Blood Tree, and I¡¯m not getting that one back.¡± She replied with a grimace.


    Fialla followed behind Sheilah as they moved towards the caverns that held the underground springs they¡¯d used months before. Sheilah was much like every other human girl in the clans at her age; a little taller than the half-elves, almost a full head taller than the full-blood elves, wiry with muscle, a little gangly about the limbs since she was still growing, and just like the others, covered in scrapes, scars, and bruises.


    Like everyone in the Dragon clan, her hair and nails were a glossy black and she was quite a bit stronger than people from other clans. Fialla wondered which Domain governed the strength that embodied the Clan of the Dragon. Was it Supremacy that made the Dragon Clan so physically strong? A physical strength that defied subjugation by anything else? Was it Indomitability that gave them that strength? Was it a manifestation of Calamity that allowed them to use their weapons and tools with such power that they were peerless? Was it Immortality that simply decided that a strong body was necessary to live longer? How did it fit together? Fialla wanted to ask Davian, but she wasn¡¯t sure if she could. The man was inscrutable and wary of questions.


    They went into the cave, instantly aware of the sudden drop in temperature and the immediate rise in humidity. There were also giant¡¯s footprints in the wet dirt of the cave floor; Sheilah and Fialla drew their swords at this sight and tried their best to be as quiet as possible as they moved through the irregular and uneven footing of the cave¡¯s mouth.


    The last time they were here there was a species of cave moss that gave off a dim light to see by. It looked like it had been scraped off in places, likely by the giants. It made sense that they¡¯d set up a camp near a reliable source of water, but again, where had the giants come from? Where did they get the wood from to build their tents and fuel their fire? There were a lot of unanswered questions.


    As they bathed, Fialla asked Sheilah a myriad of questions.


    ¡°What do you think it¡¯ll be like?¡±


    Sheilah grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ve asked my father that a lot, over the years. He¡¯s only described it vaguely. ¡®It¡¯s a land of smoke and fire and monsters.¡¯ and things like that.¡± She replied. ¡°He doesn¡¯t like answering questions.¡±


    ¡°Have you asked anyone else besides your father?¡± Fialla asked.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°I asked my mothers. They had to go to the Burning Lands, the same as us.¡± She splashed Fialla a bit. ¡°They weren¡¯t very helpful either. ¡®A place I¡¯d rather not go of or speak about ever again¡¯.¡±


    Sheilah glanced at Fialla. ¡°What did your parents tell you?¡±


    Fialla ticked off a few things. ¡°Acid storms, ash clouds so thick you can¡¯t breathe, monsters everywhere, no shade or respite or safe place to rest.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°More than what my father told me.¡± She complained. ¡°I wish they¡¯d told us at least what¡¯s edible or at least where drinkable water could be found.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I think if we pressed them, really asked them over and over, I think they¡¯d¡¯ve given us an answer.¡±


    Sheilah snorted. ¡°I know what answer they¡¯d give me: ¡®You live and die by your own strength¡¯.¡±


    Fialla nodded at that.


    ¡°Should we stay the night here, or head into the passes?¡±


    ¡°The passes.¡± Sheilah immediately replied. ¡°We ... shouldn¡¯t have wasted so much time with the blood tree, and again, with the giants.¡±


    ¡°Fine time to argue that, now.¡± Fialla remarked pointedly.


    ¡°I just... couldn¡¯t abide it. The monster was one thing, but the giants? I don¡¯t know what happened. I was just so furious.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I know what you mean. I felt it too, you know.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see you killing any giants.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a bow that can down a giant in one shot.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°You were very quick.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to be quick to get a dragon.¡± Sheilah retorted. ¡°Father said they¡¯re big enough to swallow someone in two bites.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I have some ideas I want to try.¡±


    ¡°Father said we¡¯re not supposed to help in the hunt... but if you need help escaping, I think that¡¯ll be fine.¡± Sheilah offered, and Fialla grimaced, but nodded. ¡°Same with you. I¡¯ll help you get away if that bow doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    They ate a little of their rations, filled their waterskins and left the cave and canyon. The Blood Tree corpse was already being ravaged by scavengers. Taking that as a good sign, Sheilah waded in and retrieved her arrow from the body. It was one thing to say that you wouldn¡¯t retrieve something, but was another thing altogether to simply abandon a weapon.


    ¡°Looks like people from the Clans have been through here.¡± Fialla called, pointing at some tracks.


    Sheilah eyed them briefly and nodded.


    She hefted her bow and headed towards the passes that led out of the Redstone and into the Ashlands.


    The passes were a series of narrow notches where only three or so people could walk abreast. There were a few stone blocks scattered here; remnants of a time when Stormheim had attempted to block up the passes to prevent anything from coming through them.


    They¡¯d sent an expeditionary force into the Ashlands and immediately retreated, what walked there walked alone, and it did not suffer intruders. Their immediate response to that was to keep whatever lay on the other side of the passes from coming through.


    That was a point of contention between Stormheim and the Clans. Part of what made the Clans what they were relied on things coming through the pass. For Fialla, Sheilah, and the other members of the Tyrant Clan, that meant dragonlings and whelplings. For the other Clans, it meant their own Totems.


    A dry, searing wind washed through the pass, bringing dust and ash, drying the throat and irritating the eyes of the two girls.

 Chapter 22

    The Ashlands lived up to their name when Sheilah and Fialla stepped out of the long, narrow passes. Everything was uniformly gray and lifeless, including the sky, which was thick with heavy clouds that hung low. Embers sifted down from the clouds themselves.


    There was a patter of footprints in the ashes; it was obvious that once the others got through the passes they had scattered in search of their prey.


    There was a short mesa with an easily scalable cliffside off in the distance; Sheilah pointed it out and began trotting towards it, bow in hand. She wasn¡¯t certain if Fialla would follow her or if she would find her own place to hunt.


    The air was hot and dry and tasted of strange chemicals; here and there cracks were broken in the ground venting clouds of oddly-colored smoke. Sheilah steered clear of those and kept trotting, never stopping.


    Her feet never made a sound in the soft, ashy soil; all she could hear was the creak of her leathers, the dim rattle of the arrows in her quiver, her short, quick breaths.


    Most of the time spent in the Redstone was spent running- fetching water, going to the tribe¡¯s farm, fetching tools for the family at the forge, checking the traps laid for whelplings, checking the Clan¡¯s territory for dragonling sign, running to the training area to learn how to fight using the weapons your ancestors left behind, and always running down to the passes that bordered the lands between the Redstone Valley and the lands claimed by Stormheim.


    There were many different ways to run; hers was a steady, ground-eating trot that wasted no energy, something that could be done for almost forever. She could carry a bucket and run at this pace and never spill a drop.


    As she approached the mesa, part of the sheer cliff split open with a crack of shattering stone like thunder, and molten rock jetted out in thick syrupy ropes. The blast washed over Sheilah like a wave, knocking her on her ass in the ash-strewn wastelands while the ground thrummed and heaved underneath her.


    ¡°Wait, you were running towards that?¡± Fialla shouted behind her, pitching her voice to be heard over the roar of collapsing stone.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d take the high ground; get a good vantage.¡± Sheilah replied over her shoulder as more ash jetted into the sky, along with an unpleasant brown smoke.


    Fialla helped Sheilah to her feet, and then pointed with her spear. ¡°If you¡¯re taking suggestions, I think we should head out towards that gap in the mountains, there.¡± She replied. ¡°It looks defensible.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, and followed the smaller elven girl towards a short pile of boulders and an overhanging cleft of stone.


    As they rounded the boulders, a hand stuck out and waved them in.


    Sheilah and Fialla exchanged glances; Sheilah slung her bow and pulled her sword, knowing Fialla was doing the same.


    In the cleft created by the overhang and the boulders were several clansmen, all their age.


    ¡°Seems like you had the same idea as all of us.¡± A half-elf girl Sheilah didn¡¯t know chirped brightly. ¡°Neera, of the Horned Snake.¡± She finished by way of introduction.


    ¡°Sheilah, of the Dragon.¡± She offered neutrally.


    ¡°Fialla, also of the Dragon.¡± her shadow added.


    The others quieted their murmur of conversation at this announcement.


    ¡°Well, I say you¡¯re welcome.¡± Neera offered, and then pointed to the boulder, and the lip of the overhang. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of Dragon marks here.¡±


    Sheilah glanced at what the others were doing, hunched against the side of the boulders, and realized that they were trying to carve their own clan marks into the stone.


    ¡°Which direction did you come from?¡± Neera asked.


    ¡°We came from the north.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°We were going to climb the mesa, but it blew up on us.¡±


    ¡°That must have been the rumble we felt.¡± Neera nodded. ¡°Some of them were worried that this place would collapse.¡± She jerked her thumb at the others.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you come here?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°Well, we were talking, you know? There¡¯s no reason why we shouldn¡¯t work together, right? Like, we¡¯re going to be clan and tribe leaders someday, right? Why not help each other out now, and in the future we¡¯ll help each other out later.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla immediately backed out from the shelter. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll get along very well.¡± Fialla offered, Dragging Sheilah away.


    ¡°I was going to-¡± Sheilah growled, and Fialla nodded.


    ¡°So was I.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Work together? They should be ashamed. It¡¯s a test of Individual skill.¡± She spat.


    Sheilah eyed Fialla at that. ¡°Says the one following me around.¡±


    ¡°When I spot a dragon, you¡¯d better believe that I¡¯ll face it alone.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°And I won¡¯t interfere with your hunt, either.¡±


    ¡°Then why-¡± Sheilah began, only to be cut off by Fialla.


    ¡°We need to secure food and water, right?¡± She asked.


    Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯ll do together.¡± Fialla replied.


    Sheilah sighed, and then nodded. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    They set off down the slope together.


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    After several hours, Fialla pointed out a mountain. ¡°There¡¯s trees on that mountain. Towards the top, that is.¡±


    ¡°Never expected to see that in the Ashlands. I thought everything was supposed to be on fire.¡± Sheilah observed.


    ¡°It was described that way to me, too.¡± Fialla replied, rubbing her mouth in thought.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. We¡¯ll dip down over there, and then we should be able to climb up over there.¡± Sheilah replied, pointing out their path.


    Fialla nodded, adjusted her spear, and followed Sheilah. Overhead, the sky rumbled and lightning crackled.


    As they traveled up the slope of the mountain, Sheilah realized this was a path that had been tended.


    ¡°This was made.¡± She observed, and then sheathed her sword, unshouldered her bow, and nocked an arrow.


    ¡°Made by who?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°We¡¯ll probably find out soon.¡± Sheilah replied, trying to hear over the thunder in the sky and the pounding of her own heart.


    It looked like the trail wrapped around the side of the mountain. If it was anything like the trails in the Redstone, there would be a point where they¡¯d be exposed, and she intended to sneak around that bend as much as she could, just in case.


    Suddenly, a giant appeared around the corner, holding its dress out. Things seemed to hang down from it, as if she was using it as a makeshift container.


    Sheilah took a half-step back to brace herself, drawing the fletchings of the arrow to her ear; Fialla immediately rammed her spear into the giant¡¯s knee.


    The giant spilled the contents of her dress, some large unidentifiable roots with a roar that was cut off as Sheilah¡¯s arrow lodged in the giant¡¯s throat. As the sixteen-foot tall woman crashed to the ground, Fialla immediately lunged forward, thrusting her spear forward into the giant¡¯s skull.


    She jerked her spear free, panting, and turned to look at Sheilah, her face running with sweat.


    ¡°Well, now we know where the giants are coming from.¡± Sheilah opined, and Fialla nodded. She picked up one of the roots the giant was collecting and cautiously sniffed it.


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Gather up a few and we¡¯ll see.¡± Sheilah replied, drawing her sword. ¡°There¡¯s probably more giants around though, so we¡¯ll eat later.¡±


    Fialla picked up several of the roots as Sheilah cut her arrow free of the giant¡¯s neck, and then peeked around the corner of the mountain path they¡¯d been following.


    She ducked back and spat a curse.


    ¡°What? What is it?¡± Fialla asked as Sheilah sank to her knees and rubbed her face.


    ¡°Have a peek and tell me what we¡¯re going to do next.¡±


    Fialla dropped to the ground as Sheilah used her sword to cut a swath of fabric from the giant¡¯s clothes and wiped her face with it.


    Fialla inched forward and peeked around the corner.


    Below the mountain was a settlement of giants. More than a settlement; the ground was churned up and stone laid down for streets.


    ¡°A city.¡± Fialla breathed. ¡°A city for giants.¡±


    ¡°Tell me you think we¡¯re in the Ashlands now.¡± Sheilah dared her in a tired voice. ¡°Where are the dragons? The Horned Snakes? The Thunderbirds? The Glass Spiders?¡± Sheilah asked rhetorically. ¡°I think we need to go further north- through the city.¡±


    Fialla peeked again. Certainly, there did seem to be a path that led further north, but she wasn¡¯t certain. She¡¯d need to get closer- much closer- to tell.


    ¡°I think we¡¯re screwed.¡± Fialla observed almost clinically.


    ¡°We can¡¯t go back without a dragon.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°So the only recourse is to go on.¡±


    ¡°We could go gather those weaklings-¡± Fialla began, but Sheilah reached over and slapped the half-elf¡¯s ass.


    ¡°Rely on them? I¡¯d sooner wed one.¡± She spat vehemently.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re outnumbered.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think you have enough arrows to deal with all of them.¡±


    She edged over to the mountainside and peered down. ¡°If any of them have a head on their shoulders, they¡¯ll be coming this way eventually, anyway.¡±


    Sheilah let out a small chuckle. ¡°A useful diversion.¡±


    Fialla frowned at that. ¡°Weak as they are, Sheilah, they are fellow Clansmen. We should be leading them, not waiting for them to walk into a trap.¡±


    ¡°What would Father do?¡± Sheilah asked, addressing the dragon-tooth sword in her hand.


    She pushed herself to her feet. ¡°Gather the roots; as many as can fit in both of our packs. Help me push this giant down the slope. We¡¯ll go down and find our clansmen and lead them like true Dragons would.¡±


    Fialla nodded.


    Neera jolted when Fialla and Sheilah appeared from the shrubbery in front of her, raised her dagger, carved from the horn of one of the horned snakes, inlaid with one of the fangs.


    ¡°Dragons.¡± She observed coolly, much less friendly than before. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve come bringing gifts of food.¡± Sheilah began, her eyes lighting up. ¡°And you all are going to help with a little problem.¡±


    The teens from the various Clans listened with rapt attention as Fialla and Sheilah explained the giant¡¯s city. Fialla even drew a layout of the buildings and streets, something that surprised Sheilah.


    ¡°So what do you expect us to do?¡± Neera asked irritably.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a terrible thing we¡¯re asking.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°We¡¯re just going to kill them.¡±


    Neera looked back at the other Clan teens.


    ¡°There¡¯s not many of us, and it seems that there¡¯s more of them.¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t even reached the Ashlands yet. To get there and challenge our Totems, we¡¯re going to need to go through- or around- them, and then again, on the way back.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Like it or not, this is part of our trial.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll eat... and then we¡¯ll have a look at what we¡¯re dealing with.¡± Neera decided. ¡°So... how do we cook these things?¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla led them back up the mountain after baking the roots in the coals of a small fire. They turned out to be quite delicious.


    As they passed the corpse of the female giant Neera eyed Sheilah and Fialla speculatively.


    ¡°This path is certainly easier than the one we were following.¡± Neera observed. ¡°Leave it to the Dragons to find an easier route.¡±


    ¡°We like high places.¡± Fialla replied simply.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s well-known that you like to look down on everyone else.¡± Neera sneered.


    Fialla let the insult slide. Maybe it was the dragon blood, maybe it was the Dominion of Supremacy at work, maybe it was just clan custom, but something in the Clan of the Dragons caused them to seek out the high places in the Redstone. It wasn¡¯t even intentional. If there was a flat place with a small hill, the Dragon Clan would choose the small hill, even if there was no merit to it.


    ¡°So then... what¡¯s the plan?¡± Fialla asked Sheilah.


    Sheilah blinked at the realization that everyone looked to her for guidance.


    It made sense. She was the daughter of the Dragon Clan. She was the daughter of the First Blood. She was the daughter of a Clan chief. It was her responsibility to lead them to victory.


    She took a breath.


    ¡°First-¡± She began.

 Chapter 23

    It didn¡¯t matter which Clan you were born to- if you were born to the Clans of the Redstone, you were a hunter. You knew how to stalk your prey, to move quickly, quietly, to come up with strategies on the fly.


    Hunting the Totem animals required a certain degree of precision. Each type required a degree of skill. For the Dragons, who ate the hearts and drank the blood of the whelplings and dragonlings that roamed the Redstone, it was important to kill them in a way so that very little blood was wasted.


    As a child, the simplest and most effective strategy for whelplings was to toss a net on the ground, wait for a whelpling to get tangled up in it, brain it with a rock, then cut off the head and drink the blood from the neck-stump.


    In the end, it was Sheilah that came up with the idea on how to deal with the giants and their city.


    She led the group of Clansmen into the city as night was falling, slipping between carved stone walls and into the town proper. The city wasn¡¯t that big, roughly the size of an individual Clan, several hundred of the giants or so.


    Wherever the giants had come from, they posed a threat to the Valley, so it was important to defeat them quickly, and if they couldn¡¯t do that, demoralize them so that they had to move on.


    Since this was a question of survival and the necessity of triumph, they targeted the women and girl children. Without women, they couldn¡¯t reproduce. They¡¯d have to leave and go back to wherever it was that they came from to find new women.


    The Glass Spiders in the group trapped the men in webs, the Horned Serpents used their poisoned knives where they couldn¡¯t finish the women off in one blow, the Manticores flung paralytic spines from who-knew-where, and swords and knives were used to quickly dispatch them.


    The group of Clan Children then ventured through the furthest passes of the north into the true Ashlands, where the sky burned and the whole land was poison and death.


    ¡°Well Sheilah, where should we go to find ourselves a dragon?¡± Fialla asked curiously, as the other Clan children scattered to find their own hunting grounds.


    ¡°We follow the edge of the cliffs that way.¡± Sheilah replied, pointing west. ¡°The footing looks good, and I think we¡¯ll have a good vantage to see the entire Burning Wastes. We can make our plans there.¡± She replied simply.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°You Dragons and your love of high places.¡± She mocked.


    ¡°Try telling that to the Thunderbirds and see how well you do.¡± Sheilah grouched. The Thunderbirds were nominally part of the Clans, but were extremely secretive and didn¡¯t communicate often with the rest of the Clans, except for the Dragons. Even then there was animosity, neither of them could stand the other.


    ¡°I think that I¡¯ll avoid them if at all possible.¡± Fialla replied with a grimace.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky. I do have to deal with them.¡± Sheilah countered. ¡°You don¡¯t want to. Now, let¡¯s get going. I think there¡¯s a ledge we can get to.¡±


    The trip along the cliffs was difficult and perilous, a struggle to find hand and footholds in the bleak stone.


    One advantage they had was their nails, which were harder than steel and could pierce the stone. They never questioned why this was so; it was something they simply understood as part of their bodies, like breathing. They climbed carefully, testing each foothold, gripping each handhold, minding their center of gravity.


    Climbing was second nature to the Dragon Clan. They really did like high places, and there were many places to climb in the Redstone.


    They spidered up the cliff and along it, their nails sometimes digging furrows in the stone.


    They found a place where they could rest, a short lip of stone barely wide enough to accommodate them sitting on it, and eyed the lands they were expected to locate a dragon in.


    Far off in the distance, there was a massive spire that thrust itself through the clouds that streamed lava down its flanks. From Sheilah¡¯s dreams, that was where the Great Mother Tyrant lived, somewhere above the clouds, above everything, where she glared down at the world from her molten nest and judged all who dared subvert her overwhelming supremacy over everything.


    There were none who could challenge her. There was very little air to breathe up there, and even if they could, the rivers of molten lava would destroy them. Even if they didn¡¯t, the Tyrant lived in the heart of a caldera of liquid rock. It was impossible to defy her.


    Below them, perched on the cliff, munching on baked roots and sipping water, were a number of canyons and smoking mountains, lumpy piles of stone that were obviously left from previous eruptions.


    ¡°There?¡± Sheilah asked, pointing to a squat chunk of rock that bubbled with steam. Every so often, a geyser would erupt from the summit, shooting hot jets of steam and water into the air.


    ¡°Might be worth checking out.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s drinkable.¡±


    ¡°Do you not have the heart of a dragon beating in your breast?¡± Sheilah growled, and Fialla giggled.


    ¡°I still have water from the city of the giants. I¡¯m okay for now.¡± She replied, and then pointed to a crumbling valley, shrouded in low-hanging clouds.


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    ¡°I think that¡¯s a good place to start.¡± Fialla decided.


    ¡°Why there?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°I think I saw a dragon¡¯s wingbeat in the clouds. See how they¡¯re swirling now?¡± Fialla asked, and then began peering down the edge of the cliff to see if she could spot a way down.


    ¡°If there¡¯s one, there may be more.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Let¡¯s head down there.¡±


    Heading down was more difficult than heading up, each move threatening to send them sliding down the sheer cliffside.


    ¡°I wish we¡¯d brought some rope.¡± Sheilah cursed, to Fialla¡¯s delighted laughter.


    ¡°Dragons go up, they do not go down.¡± She called, scampering down lightly.


    Sheilah silently cursed the dextrous half-elf¡¯s nimbleness, and struggled to keep up.


    There were no edible plants in the Ashlands. There were tufts of grass here and there, but they were rank and bitter, with a pungent odor that dug into the sinuses. The floor of the Ashlands was a nest of piles of stone, valley walls, upthrusts of volcanic rock, magma pools, volcanic vents that pumped jets of thick smoke into the air, obscuring everything.


    ¡°Fialla, do you know where we are?¡± Sheilah cried, waving her hands in front of her face for a hint of visibility.


    There was no response from her ever-present shadow. Sheilah unslung her bow, inspected the sinew that functioned as her bowstring, and nocked an arrow while blinking back tears from the foul smoke.


    She stumbled backwards, squatting down to get under the fog of rancid smoke.


    She could see better, but the smell was atrocious. She fished a scrap of cloth from her backpack and wrapped it around her face, then waddled down into a pile of boulders and curled up in a ball while she struggled to breathe.


    She had no idea how long she was there, how long she¡¯d dozed, but she suddenly snapped awake, every muscle in her body aching.


    Where was she?


    The Ashlands.


    She struggled to a seated position, and then, using her fingernail, carved in the stone her family¡¯s sigil. She¡¯d been there.


    In reflection, she should have done it when they were up on the cliffside, though it hardly mattered now.


    She nibbled some of her rations and took a sip of water, and crawled out of her little niche. The ground went steadily downward from here, unless she wanted to climb up the edge of the canyon on the northern side.


    It wasn¡¯t too much of a climb at this point, more like a scramble, so she did so, making sure to stay as far away from those jets of smoke as possible.


    No matter where she went, Fialla was always by her side. Sometimes annoying, sometimes teasing, sometimes uncomfortably affectionate, but always there. Fialla was a part of her, the same way that her arm was. She¡¯d never been separated from Fialla in this way before. This was dangerous territory; it would be nice to have the girl by her side.


    She walked along the edge of the cliff, occasionally stopping to carve her sigil into the boulders as she passed. It¡¯d help her find her way out, and if she died on her hunt, it¡¯d help those who came in search for her family weapons.


    A feeling she couldn¡¯t put a name to began gnawing at her innards. It sank rusty barbs into her guts, wrapped an icy claw around her heart, and made tears well in her eyes.


    The boulders disappeared until there were only small stones, the stones disappeared into gravel, and suddenly she realized she was on the edge of a smoke-covered chasm.


    ¡°Shit.¡± She muttered, and then glanced up. There was a small lip above her; if she had any strength left in her she should be able to jump up there.


    She shouldered her bow, tucked her arrow back in her quiver, and made her awkward leap, catching the edge of the stone with her fingers alone. She scrambled with her feet, but there was no footing. If she fell, it would be right into the smoky chasm, a chasm she wasn¡¯t sure had a bottom.


    Suddenly, Fialla appeared on the lip of stone she was dangling from and grabbed Sheilah¡¯s wrist.


    All the strength went out of Sheilah as she sagged with relief; Fialla hadn¡¯t disappeared.


    ¡°I can¡¯t pull you up by myself. Climb up, girl.¡± Fialla groaned.


    Sheilah reached with her other hand and caught the lip, scrambling with her feet, grabbing a stronger handhold, and hauling herself up.


    She plopped herself next to the other girl and embraced the half-elven girl, pulling her tight.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever disappear on me like that again.¡± She complained, squeezing her tightly.


    Fialla returned Sheilah¡¯s embrace. ¡°I thought you¡¯d disappeared on me.¡± She accused.


    Sheilah explained what she¡¯d gone through; causing the other girl¡¯s eyes to widen.


    ¡°You got a nap? I¡¯m jealous. Do you have any idea how exhausted I am?¡± Fialla complained.


    Sheilah looked around; what she thought was a tiny ledge was in fact larger than that, so she scooted back, and planted her back against the stone of the canyon, settling her bow to the side. She grabbed Fialla and pulled her close so that the smaller girl was straddling her.


    ¡°There. Now you can sleep comfortably.¡± She offered, and Fialla melted into the taller girl¡¯s embrace. She was asleep in seconds.


    ¡°A woman cannot take another woman as a bride, you know.¡± Fialla  mumbled into Sheilah¡¯s chest a couple of hours later as she woke up.


    ¡°Where did that come from?¡± Sheilah asked.


    Fialla lifted her head. ¡°Months ago, at the pools. You asked me if you needed to give me an iron knife.¡±


    ¡°There are some that... think we¡¯re too close.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I think it''s natural to reach that idea when your friend starts kissing you with so much passion.¡±


    ¡°I was glad you¡¯d returned to your senses. You¡¯re my friend. My best friend.¡± She paused. ¡°My only friend.¡±


    Shielah simply allowed the girl to talk.


    ¡°You know your mothers, Ladria and Mayrin? They were so close that they would not let a man come between them. It was something of an arrangement; if Ladria found someone to be with, someone she was willing to spend the rest of her life with, Mayrin would follow. The circumstances are different with us, I know. Ladria was the Princess of the Wild Elves and Mayrin was her ... right hand? Her Maiden of Honor? I guess that¡¯s the Clan equivalent.¡± She looked up at Sheilah. ¡°That¡¯s the kind of relationship I want with you. I want you to know me, to trust me, to love me as a sister, and in turn I will do the same for you. When you marry, I want to be beside you.¡±

 Chapter 24

    In the ancient times, hundreds of years before Sheilah was born, the Clans performed what was known as ¡°Bride Stealing¡±. A man would choose for himself a woman that suited him, and gathered his ¡®Best Men¡¯, which were all the single men in his tribe, and then raid the tribe and steal the woman away to become his. Later, he would send gifts to the woman¡¯s family as an apology for stealing her away.


    Naturally she would have to relinquish her Totem and accept his, which was a dangerous prospect. Totems were jealous and did not like to be usurped. If she survived the process of releasing her Totem and taking in a different one, he would send additional gifts to her family.


    In the more recent but old times, arrangements would be made between the man¡¯s family and the woman¡¯s family in advance. Gifts would be exchanged, and on the promised day, the groom would assemble his ¡®Best Men¡¯ and raid the tribe, and the bride would assemble her ¡®Honor Maidens¡¯ to protect her. A great mock battle would take place, and if the groom was very skilled, he could steal the bride away. The matter of the ¡®best men¡¯ and ¡®honor maidens¡¯ doing quite inappropriate things with each other was often overlooked.


    One of the constants of each marriage was the presentation of an iron knife from the groom to the wife. That knife belonged to her, and it served a very specific purpose: If at any point he had offended her honor in any way, she was welcome to drive that knife through his heart, thus signifying divorce. Neither the groom¡¯s family, the tribe, or the Clan could go against her choice, or bring retribution. She was allowed to take her things and return to her original Tribe.


    Fialla was always trailing after Sheilah, doing her best to equal the girl. Fialla would copy everything Sheilah did, so much so that she was often called ¡°Sheilah¡¯s Shadow¡±, which didn¡¯t seem to bother the half-elven girl at all. Instead, she redoubled her efforts to keep up with the human girl, who was taller, stronger, and had a more robust constitution than the smaller Fialla.


    Fialla was also known for her spontaneous and aggressive displays of affection towards Sheilah, which made Sheilah herself uncomfortable. When Fialla gave Sheilah the string of turquoise beads, Sheiah thought Fialla had finally decided to go against all Clan convention and try to marry her, something that made the thirteen-year-old girl uncomfortable.


    Sheilah hadn¡¯t even considered taking a partner. Everything she did was focused on training for this moment, where she would slay her first dragon and be recognized as an adult. Finding a husband could come after that. She had plenty of time for that.


    Fialla pushed herself up from Sheilah¡¯s embrace and looked her in the eye. ¡°I might consider marrying you if nobody else chooses you, horse-face.¡±


    ¡°You want to get shoved off the side of the cliff?¡± Sheilah asked, and the half-elf grinned in response. She climbed off Sheilah¡¯s lap and scrawled her family¡¯s symbol on the cliff¡¯s ledge, and then glanced down.


    ¡°Oh! Oh! Look!¡± Fialla exclaimed, pointing down.


    Sheilah peeked down and her heart froze in her chest. Above the mist-shrouded gorge, a dragon flapped lazily. The beast was monstrously huge; there was no way for Sheilah to apprehend its size because there was nothing she¡¯d seen of that size she could compare it to. It was charcoal gray and covered in zigzagging red and yellow streaks, like warpaint.


    ¡°...¡± Sheilah¡¯s heart locked up in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to jump down and kill it. She wanted it. She was nearly overwhelmed with a greedy sense of hunger that pervaded every aspect of her being. She wanted it. She needed it. More, she knew that Fialla would defer to her.


    She unlocked her jaw. ¡°You saw it first.¡± She made herself say. Her throat was dry as the dirt and ash she was sitting on. ¡°Show me you belong to the Dragons, Fialla.¡±


    Fialla stared at Sheilah, wide-eyed with shock for a moment, and then grabbed her spear, and without saying another word, leaped off the cliff to plummet toward the dragon like a comet.


    ¡°By the ancestors.¡± Sheilah breathed. The girl was fearless.


    The dragon below screamed; Sheilah peeked over the cliff; Fialla had impaled the beast just between the wings, where there were no thick armored plates made from Dragon Metal. Fialla hung from her spear as the dragon desperately tried to keep airborne. Both disappeared into the low-hanging clouds.


    ¡°Good luck, Fialla.¡± Shielah prayed.


    A strange, alien thought slipped into her mind like a blade, cold and oozing, slowly resolving itself into something she could barely comprehend. Impressions, feelings, sensations that came from outside, from a mind that wasn¡¯t at all human.


    She could sense the intelligence behind it; strange, foreign, and hungry.


    Sheilah threw herself back against the cliff, grabbing for her bow, nocking an arrow. She looked around; trying to pinpoint the source of the voice that scrawled through her thoughts like claws.


    There you are.


    ¡°Who?¡± She asked, but there was no response. She could feel the presence weighing on her mind, demanding she kneel and abase herself. It pressed down on her with almost tangible weight, as if it was-


    ¡°Above!¡± She screamed, throwing herself onto her back, bringing her bow up and the arrow to her cheek in one motion.


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    A titanic dragon head loomed above her, dipping down to look at her. She fired her arrow and cheered as it punched through the soft underjaw. The Dragon pulled its head back and roared its frustration even as the overwhelming pressure disappeared from Sheilah¡¯s mind. Sheilah drew another arrow from her quiver and nocked it, flat on her back, pointed at the cliff¡¯s top directly above her.


    A runnel of blood, crimson-black, ran down the rocks in a stream.


    Sheilah rolled to a sitting position and watched the dragon¡¯s blood pool in her palm before bringing it to her lips.


    The blood of a Tyrant carries a strong power. Strong enough to change even you.


    The thunderous thread of movement, a pattering of sand and gravel from above let her know the Dragon was still alive.


    The blood was fiery hot, rich and intoxicating. Her head spun, her whole body throbbed. She greedily wanted more; her head whirled and her heart thundered in her chest. She took a deep breath and released it suddenly as her muscles, nerves and blood were set aflame.


    She shook and trembled as the Dragon¡¯s blood seared its way through her. She couldn¡¯t even keep her hand on her bow as she shuddered and convulsed.


    If it was like this after a single swallow, what might it be like if-!


    She struggled to calm down and grab her bow. She couldn¡¯t grab an arrow and pick up her bow, her nerves seemed to be scrambled, so she patiently picked up her bow, struggled to affix an arrow to the sinew, struggled to grasp the grip, struggled to draw it.


    It hurt to breathe, her guts were hot and loose in her belly, her thighs quivered and trembled, she could feel her whole body slick with sweat.


    Come, human. There¡¯s no need for this. Come to me and I will reward you. The cold reptilian thought cajoled her. Kneel before me and I will devour you without suffering.


    Sheilah trembled, her body icy cold, her heart burning fire. She knew the feeling, had felt it before, had lain cheek-by-jowl with the feeling since she could remember. It was fear, and it demanded that she flee, she run without looking back.


    But The Redstone would not welcome her back. Her clan would not welcome her back. Her tribe would not welcome her back. Her family would not welcome her back. There was no room for cowardice or fear in the Redlands. You lived and died by your own strength.


    There was something more, too: She had felt this terror before, when she dreamed of the Great Mother Tyrant. That terror had awakened the nascent spirit of the dragon in her blood, desperately burning calories to resist the avalanche of Supremacy that baked off the dread Mother.


    She¡¯d nearly died then.


    A realization sparked in her chest. This was weaker, by comparison.


    She filled her lungs with heat and defiance and shouted up at the dragon even as she trembled.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to understand, Tyrant: My Supremacy is stronger! I will have you kneel before me as I tear your heart from your chest!¡± She screamed through blood-flecked lips.


    It roared in response, a booming sound beyond sound, something that split and shredded the air. Sheilah instinctively covered her ears and curled up at that ferocity, bones trembling in their joins.


    As the roar fell silent, Sheilah uncurled and looked up towards the cliff face where the dragon had appeared.


    There was a deep, horrible noise, a sucking, a rumbling as the dragon breathed in and in and in. It never seemed to stop inhaling.


    Just when it stopped, she stupidly, dumbly realized what it meant.


    A wave of fire washed down the cliff, melting stone into molten gobbets, roaring past the cliff¡¯s edge and out into the open space that Fialla had jumped into.


    The heat blasted away the life-providing air Sheilah needed to survive, but miraculously didn¡¯t touch her.


    As the flames receded, she could see the dragon¡¯s massive maw- she could climb inside comfortably with room to spare as it swallowed.


    She loosed and the titanic jaws snapped closed and another scream of pain blasted through her mind.


    The dragon once again moved away from her line of sight as a light drizzle fell from the sky, cooling and cracking the melted stone.


    That caught her attention, too. A Clansman could start a fire that burned wood, heated metal, turned hides to ash, but this... this flame melted stone.


    Sheilah ran up the rocks, ignoring the searing heat through her gloves and boots, scrambling. She needed to finish this fight. She hoisted herself up and came face to face with the dragon; a monstrous thing, much larger than the one Fialla had speared.


    Six massive horns sprouted from its crest, sweeping back along its body. Most dragonlings were ash and charcoal, and many dragons were as well- one only needed to look around the Dragon Terrace to see this reflected in the dragonhide leather that was worn- but this one, this dragon''s scales were a brilliant, eye-catching red that screamed danger. The crimson of blood. Others were an iridescent yellow pattern that flickered between ambers and yellows, those scales shimmered like flames, like fire. Bonelike spurs sprouted from joints, ran down the spine and the length of its tail. Many animals blended in with their environment, either to avoid being preyed upon, or to better conceal themselves to sneak up on their prey, but this dragon demanded to be seen, to be acknowledged and feared. It refused to hide, and dared anyone or anything to approach.


    Its great mouth opened, and Sheilah fired another shot down its gullet. Its return roar was titanic, shaking the ground Sheilah stood on.


    She stumbled towards the dragon even as it howled, legs feeling like jelly, mind blank, heart surging with fierce determination, the knowledge that existed without thought: It was either it, or her.


    The wound she¡¯d inflicted in its jaw with her first arrow was a pinprick compared to the actual bulk of the dragon, but it bled in a constant, thin stream.


    The head of the dragon was massive, covered with overlapping scales and bony protrusions. Its six long horns swept back from its head, heavy leathery lips wrinkling back from bloody teeth and terrifying fangs.


    A horrible, seething intelligence burned in those hateful eyes that glowed with frightful intensity. Sheilah had downed a number of dragonlings with a well-placed shot from her bow to the eye, but those shots had been fired from ambush, catching them unawares. This dragon had her in its sights, and glared at her with dreadful focus. A slight turn of the head and her arrow would clatter uselessly off the brow ridges, bounce harmlessly off the scales.


    One slip, and the hunter becomes the prey.

 Chapter 25

    The region known to the Clans of the Redstone as the Ashlands was a vast stretch of volatile lands that went unmapped- no one wanted to venture there for long. Ash, strange gasses and geysers of chemical-laden water belched into the air constantly, the ground trembled and flexed from the hidden turbulence beneath while deadly predators stalked the volcanic wastes, each searching for prey.


    The hellish landscape of the Ashlands was dominated by the nameless mountain that rose to pierce the clouds, the mountain that the Dragon Clan believed held the Great Mother Tyrant, the dragon of dragons, the supreme authority.


    Many of the Totems the Clans served dwelled in the hellscape; ferocious, deadly predators that brooked no rivals and fought with unrelenting savagery to maintain their position in the hierarchies, and yet all of them fled when the dread shade of the Dragon¡¯s wings darkened the skies.


    The dragon¡¯s head rose up and up on a sinuous, serpentine neck, towering over Sheilah.


    She could see the flicker of flames behind its teeth even as blood dribbled from between them. Either the shot she¡¯d put through its lower jaw or the one she¡¯d shot into its mouth was bleeding it, but nowhere near enough to inflict a telling, mortal wound.


    She should have brought a spear. She should have listened to those that suggested she bring a spear. She should have chosen a different path to take. She should have-


    She tore her eyes away from the dragon¡¯s and shoved herself forward, practically kicking with her feet to launch herself forward into a run. She lunged forward even as the dragon shifted, twisting to follow, to keep her in its sights.


    She threw herself forward, arms ahead of her, twisting so she slid in the dust and gravel on her back, aiming for the gap between the dragon¡¯s forearm and torso.


    She had no idea what she was doing, no thought of strategy or plan, just the desperate throb and animalistic, instinctive need to survive.


    The mammoth dragon twisted and shuffled, one of its great, massive wings flexing just above her as she slid. She rolled to her feet and chased the dragon¡¯s hindquarters even as the massive tail, covered in glimmering plates of Dragon Metal and bone spikes whipped her way.


    She rolled, diving under the tail, coming back up and yanking back the sinew of her bow to her cheek and loosed, targeting the vulnerable point where the leathery skin of the dragon was softer and less armored at the junction where the leg met the body. She targeted one of the rear legs and watched as the arrow punched into the hide and disappeared inside the body of the dragon.


    Blood splattered from the wound and the dragon roared, the air shivering with the immense fury baking off of it.


    She glanced around for a place to hide, a vantage, some way to get some sort of purchase that she could use to at least survive-


    Realistically, there was none. If at any point she tried to disengage and flee, the dragon would kill her with no more effort than Sheilah would a whelpling.


    Win or lose, she was in it until the end.


    The dragon twisted, tried to leap, but the leg she¡¯d shot at didn¡¯t seem to behave right and so it stumbled a little.


    It was still wicked fast, the difference between heartbeats, but in that spare heartbeat Sheilah threw herself at the hindquarters of the dragon, aiming for one of the spurs that jutted from one of the legs.


    Her own legs were trembling, her lungs were on fire and her head was swimming, but there was only one thing in her mind from the start- survival.


    She grabbed on to one of the spurs and kicked with her feet against the leg of the dragon to propel herself upwards onto the dragon¡¯s back, but suddenly the dragon''s tail whipped around and its back flexed, forcefully blowing her off the dragon and slamming her into a small, short outcropping of rock.


    She let out a cough of blood and moaned in pain; she was fairly certain that something inside her wasn¡¯t working right anymore. Was it a rib?


    The pain radiated through her body, her head wanted to drift off in a haze of fog; instead she dug into the ground with sizzling fingers and struggled to her feet. She glanced up at the outcrop of rock and forced herself to climb even as the dragon unfurled its wings with the whipcrack of furiously ripping cloth.


    She gained the rise and pulled an arrow from her quiver even as it lunged into the air, whipping a cloud of dust and gravel into the air.


    She felt her mouth move; she knew she was saying something, but had no idea what it was. She drew the fletching to her cheek and loosed, watched the streak of the arrow even as her hand nocked another arrow, drew and released.


    The dragon roared, twisting in the air.


    Some part of her realized that the dragon hadn¡¯t intended to flee, it had launched itself into the air as simply a faster way to turn and deal with her.


    Its dread wings spread across the sky, filling her vision, blotting out the dim sunlight. That was her Totem in all its horrifying glory: inimitable fury, unrelenting dread, unsurpassed destruction.


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    Its Supremacy slammed into her with a palpable weight, demanding subservience, crushing the weight from her lungs, the blood from her heart.


    She loosed again, and the dragon roared again, but this time in pain.


    Some foresight borne of terror and instinct caused her to leap forward even as the dragon blew out its rage and pain in a great furious blast of liquid flame, right where she had stood but an eyeblink earlier.


    She rolled and rolled, feeling something in her chest snap wetly, even as the dragon slammed into the ground, its great claws scything into the stone near her head.


    It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. She wasn¡¯t sure if her arms worked properly, she could feel blood trickling down one of her legs.


    She had to keep moving.


    Sh pushed herself upright with arms that didn¡¯t feel like they belonged to her, spat blood from lips that felt numb and rubbery, shoved with legs that felt leaden, and grabbed onto one of the hard, bony protrusions that ran along the dragon¡¯s foreleg, still struggling, still fighting.


    The dragon twisted, rising up to shake her off, ironically this gave her a moment of purchase where her booted feet could shove off the leg.


    She struggled upward and caught the edge of one of the plated scales of Dragon Metal that ran down the dragon¡¯s back and dug her fingers in, clamping down with all the strength she had in her.


    The Dragon twisted and shook, Sheilah closed her eyes and held on as it bucked and twisted, feeling her body jerk and flop against the side of the monstrous beast.


    She took a pained breath; it hurt if she breathed too deeply, and pulled herself up to the ridge of spikes that ran down the spine of every dragon, whether whelpling, dragonling, or dragon. Her bow dangled from one shoulder; when had she shouldered it? She shoved with her feet, hung on to each spine as she crawled upwards while the dragon bucked and heaved, trying to dislodge her.


    She didn¡¯t remember drawing her sword. She climbed desperately, feet seeking holds between the massive armor plates as she yanked herself up the bony ridges of the spine with her hands.


    What did she plan to do? She couldn¡¯t remember. There was no plan except survival, and that wasn¡¯t so much a plan as it was a basic imperative.


    The dragon unfurled its wings with that horrid rippling snap of webbing stretching to catch the slightest bit of wind, and even through her haze of pain, through her desperate focus for survival, she knew what was going to happen next; the dragon was going to launch itself into the air, was going to fly as hard and as fast and as ruthlessly as possible in order to dislodge it.


    Dragons were unsurpassed monsters. They were at the peak, the apex. There was nothing that did not fear the dragon. When their wings blacked the sky, when their shadow fell across the earth, everything got out of its way. They did not know fear, for they were fear incarnate. Even the proud Thunderbird, self-professed king of the skies and lords of the storm fled from the shadow of the dragon.


    And yet, Sheilah had taught it something that it did not know before, something simple, something that everything living understood from nearly the beginning: pain.


    She¡¯d hurt the Tyrant Dragon. Not just once, but several times. None of them were mortal hurts, but pain was an entirely new experience for the ancient terror.


    Sheilah¡¯s blank eyes focused on the jointed bones at the base of the wings and some idea, a concept, a shape of a thought dredged itself up from her consciousness.


    Her gaze, once blank, sharpened. This, this was something that she could do. Maybe.


    She drove her father¡¯s blade down between the wings, using her tiny weight as leverage as she slashed through the hide of the titanic monster, working the blade.


    Stupid human, what do you hope to accomplish?


    ¡°You think I¡¯ve never cut up a chicken before?!¡± Sheilah shouted, digging her blade in deeper. ¡°I cut this one tendon and your friends will be calling you ¡®The One-Winged Dragon¡¯. They¡¯ll all laugh at how you were made flightless by an insect!¡± She screamed. The Dragon roared again and spread its wings- too late realizing its mistake as her questing blade found the tendon and sheared through it. The Dragon¡¯s wing immediately went limp and useless, and the great beast stumbled awkwardly.


    She unlimbered her bow and fired three arrows into the weak, unprotected area behind the skull plate. The dragon screamed again, shaking its head, tossing Sheilah off.


    Sheilah hit the ground and watched her remaining arrows bounce away from her hand and over the cliff edge.


    Her father¡¯s sword was buried in the dragon¡¯s back. Her bow was too far away for her to grab and even if she could grab it, there were no more arrows. The dragon was turning towards her, likely to blast her point-blank with its breath.


    There was no hope. There were no more options.


    Belatedly she remembered the steel dagger her father had given her. It wasn¡¯t much, but she¡¯d go down fighting.


    She yanked the knife from her boot with greasy, bloodstained fingers, pulled herself to her feet and leapt at the dragon¡¯s skull.


    There were many stories about shooting an arrow into a dragon¡¯s eye and into its brain, killing it. Truthfully, she''d killed many dragonlings that way. She¡¯d do her best.


    She clung to the beast¡¯s head, dangling one-armed from one of its crest horns, and thrust with her dagger.


    The dragon closed its eye and the dagger bounced away, skidding on the eyelid. She swung away and then back, swinging her dagger back with all the force she could muster. Once again, the blade skittered across the eyelid as if it was impervious to her attacks.


    Well, the dagger was only made out of steel.


    As she swung away again, still clinging to one of the dragon¡¯s horns, she noticed its earhole, which was large enough to-


    As she swung back, she changed her target.


    Her arm went into the earhole of the dragon. She shoved it in deep, all the way past her elbow, and when she encountered resistance, she twisted the knife, shoving her arm even further into its head. There was a crunch that was more felt than heard, and her blade punched through something into something warm, wet, and jellylike. She slashed about with the knife and jerked it out as the dragon slammed into the ground.


    She tumbled away from the dragon, which was breathing erratically.


    Truthfully, she wasn¡¯t feeling too great, either.


    The dragon was spasming, its limbs twitching and convulsing at random; its head trembling. Its eyes popped open and its eyes were dilating, tightening; dilating.


    Something was seriously wrong with it.

 Chapter 26

    Sheilah stumbled away from the gigantic dragon, limbs weak, weariness dragging at her whole body. Her chest burned with the pain from the impact earlier, and her arm was wrenched and slimy.


    She stumbled over a small stone and nearly tumbled off the cliff, barely catching herself before she fell. She stared down at the still-smoking shelf she¡¯d shared with Fialla; a small pile of her arrows had fallen down there.


    She eased herself down and picked up her arrows with trembling fingers, stuffing them into the quiver that hung from her belt. She looked back up at the cliffside where she¡¯d fought the dragon, and wearily dragged herself up, the aching burn of her broken rib making it difficult to breathe, to move.


    Once she reached the top, she eyed the dragon, which was still shuddering and spasming unnaturally.


    She¡¯d done something to it. She wasn¡¯t sure what it was she¡¯d done, but she knew she¡¯d done something.


    She dragged herself up the back of the dragon and dragged her father¡¯s sword out of the dragon¡¯s back. A freshet of blood began jetting from the beast; she knelt and let the blood gush into her mouth, drinking as much as she could.


    Her vision went weird, her head felt like it would detach from her body; her body felt hot and itchy, numb and tingly. There was a great roaring in her ears, and she fell forward into the bloody wound in a faint.


    Her dreams were strange and filled with all sorts of baffling things she couldn¡¯t understand. She slept, bathing in the blood of a Tyrant Dragon, and dreamed terrible dreams of subjugation and conquest, soaring through the air, defeating all those that stood against her. Her dominion was unquestioned, her will was unbending and for a thousand, ten thousand years, she ruled with a fist of molten flame.


    Then The Voice reached out to her. She didn¡¯t know who or what The Voice was, but it excited and terrified her with what it promised.


    She agreed, and then she sank deeper into sleep, the deepest sleep reserved for those who truly need it.


    When she awoke, the dragon was still twitching and bleeding from the wounds she¡¯d inflicted on it.


    Her vision was weird, colors and details seemed to smear and blur when she turned her head. Whelpling blood was intoxicating, dragonling blood addictive, this dragon¡¯s blood was scrambling her senses beyond comparison. Her whole body thrummed and tingled, she seemed weirdly conscious of her breathing, her head pounded with her heartbeat and it was hard to focus on anything.


    Her gaze fell to her father¡¯s sword, splattered with dragonblood, and slowly, carefully, she tried to pick it up, but missed her reach by a good margin. She stared numbly at her hand, streaked with drying blood. She opened her hand, closed it.


    Yeah, hand still worked.


    She reached down again, concentrating all of her focus on her hand.


    She felt the tattered wrappings on the grip, and she studiously closed her hand, gripping the weapon in her hand.


    An idle thought, as distracting as a mosquito humming about her ear, wondered if she would lose her father¡¯s weapon if she took her eyes off of it. It didn¡¯t make sense, it was irrational, some part of her insisted that she didn¡¯t need to look at something to know it was in her hand, but it was so difficult to focus, to concentrate. If she let herself get distracted, she¡¯d-


    She came back to herself as she pitched off the back of the dragon and hit the ashen dirt.


    Again.


    She tried to push herself upright and realized she was death-gripping her father¡¯s blade in her fist.


    What came next?


    A storm of images, feelings, ideas, faces whirled through her mind as she sat upright.


    She was supposed to do something.


    Where was she?


    She looked up at the steel-gray skies, the heavy clouds of ash and filth, and blinked, confused. Where was she?


    She looked around herself- dirt and ash, tumbled rocks, the trembling, quivering body of a dragon-


    ¡°Dragon!¡± She shouted, pushing herself to her feet. She stumbled backwards and hit a stone outcrop and a blast of pain wracked through her chest.


    Her delirium faded with that impact, splintery shards of pain pushing back the fuzzy clouds that puffed through her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.


    ¡°Right.¡± She grimaced. ¡°Focus, you idiot.¡± She spat through ash-streaked lips.


    She used her father¡¯s blade to cut into the dragon¡¯s armpit, the vulnerable gap between shoulder and ribcage, and forced the blade down and through. Blood gushed out again, and she drank again, but this time, there was no sense of disorientation and disconnection.


    She carved her way into the dragon¡¯s chest, where the massive heart still twitched spasmodically. She cut the thing free and wondered how she was expected to eat the whole thing, considering its size.


    She settled herself down and began to eat.


    She ate and slept, woke and ate, slept and dreamed, woke and ate, she wasn¡¯t certain how long it took for her to devour the entire thing.


    From time to time it seemed like someone spoke to her, but if they did, it didn¡¯t make sense, and she didn¡¯t care, anyway.


    She awoke some evening, some morning; she had lost track of time again. She pushed herself to her feet and wobbled. It felt weird somehow to stand on two feet. Her vision seemed weird, and there was a bizarre sense of everything around her, as if she knew where everything was around her without looking.


    She looked around herself, and noticed a half-elf sleeping next to her for the first time. She felt like she should know who the half-elven girl was. She licked her lips and tasted strange metals on her tongue.


    She looked around herself, and then back down at the girl.


    The girl would know what she should do.


    Yes, that¡¯s right. She just needed to command her. Subjugate her.


    ¡°Wake up.¡± She croaked, and then coughed. Her throat felt parched. Wasn¡¯t there.... She searched her memory... water? Ah. Yes. Water. She was suddenly very thirsty.


    ¡°Hey.¡± She demanded. ¡°Wake up.¡±


    The girl turned over in her sleep and then opened her eyes and looked up at Sheilah.


    ¡°Are you... you?¡± The girl asked, some strange expression on her face.


    ¡°Who do you think I am?¡± She shot back. ¡°Give me water, puny thing.¡±


    The girl suddenly rolled to her feet and backpedaled away, eyes wary.


    The gall.


    ¡°Give me water, creature.¡± She repeated. ¡°I have commanded it.¡±


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    Her will was strong; she reached out to the girl, a wave of dust and ash stirring as she moved. The girl suddenly slipped and fell to her knees, eyes wide and fearful.


    Good.


    ¡°Water.¡± She repeated, and the girl fumbled a waterskin from her belt and pushed it towards her.


    Her hands felt strange as she picked up the skin- at least she had proper talons. She struggled to manipulate it with her hands, finally popping the cork and guzzling the water. By the Tyrant she was so thirsty!


    When her belly was full she dropped the waterbag, no longer interested in it, and turned back to the fallen Tyrant Dragon. There was something she was supposed to do, wasn¡¯t there?


    There was a noise behind her, but before she could turn her strange body around, something slammed into her from behind and knocked her to the ground.


    Tyranny only lasts as long as the one with the fist. The moment you lose your fist, I will be there.


    Sheilah opened her eyes and looked up into the face of Fialla.


    ¡°Did you have to hit me so hard?¡± She complained.


    ¡°Are you... you... again?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°For now, it seems.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°The other... is waiting for me to slip.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I feel it inside me too. It keeps wanting to get out.¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s absolutely terrified of what¡¯s in you, though.¡±


    ¡°Help me with the teeth and bones?¡± Sheilah asked, and Fialla let out a chuckle with a dubious expression.


    ¡°Those teeth are huge, Sheilah. How are you going to get them home? And the bones?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll drag them if I have to.¡± She replied. ¡°Do we have a way out of here? I don¡¯t think I can climb down the way I came up.¡±


    As she said that, she experimentally rolled her shoulders; the horrible grinding, splintery pain had vanished, leaving behind a dull ache.


    Fialla nodded, and then helped Sheilah cut one of the massive teeth out of the dragon¡¯s mouth. While they were working, Sheilah found she was able to retrieve several of her arrows, which she stuffed into her quiver.


    For the Clan of the Dragon, their weapon of choice was a weapon ground from a tooth of a dragon, a tooth that had been flame-tempered to be stronger than steel, ground to an edge that would not break or dull or chip. The knife or sword or spear or whatever was sheathed in dragonbone, a material that was used to bearing up the crushing weight of a dragon. The bone of choice was typically a fingerbone, though in the instance of a spear, one of the armbones was taken instead.


    In Sheilah¡¯s instance however, the dragon¡¯s tooth was larger than had been collected before. The average sword in the Redstone was a bit longer than the forearm, but the tooth she hacked out of the Tyrant Dragon came up to her shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stick to tradition.¡± Sheilah joked with Fialla. ¡°I¡¯ll take a fang, and one of the finger bones.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s still a lot to drag. What about the hide?¡±


    Dragonhide was used in making their first clothes as adults. It was part of the rite of passage from childhood to adulthood, from someone that relied and depended upon the tribe to someone that protected and defended the tribe.


    The bones, the teeth, the heart, everything about them, from within and without was Dragon, an inseparable tie to the Great Mother Tyrant, the Totem of their Clan, the proof of an inseparable bond stretching back countless generations, all the way to the beginning.


    Sheilah shook her head.


    Fialla prodded the thick, heavy hide and used her knife to lever up one of the scales, huge and thick. It was impossible to use as leather.


    Sheilah used her father¡¯s sword to carve her family symbol in front of the dragon to show proof of her kill, and then, using strips of dragonhide, bound her trophies together and they began the long trip back home.


    The way down from the cliffside was actually pretty easy because there was a nearby slope that Sheilah wasn¡¯t aware of, given her unorthodox approach. Still, they had a long way to go to cross the Ashlands, plus the long trek back through the mountains and the long journey across the Redstone back home to the territory of the Dragon Clan.


    ¡°We could have come up this way; much easier.¡± Sheilah complained, rolling her eyes at Fialla. There was still a strange sense of awareness that she hadn¡¯t had before, a sensation she wasn¡¯t used to.


    ¡°I- I don¡¯t think that I could have done it, sister.¡± Fialla replied in a low voice, head down, eyes on her toes. ¡°I would have run away.¡± She whispered, but Sheilah heard her anyway.


    Sheilah didn¡¯t need to ask Fialla about her own hunt; the girl had her own bundle of dragonhide, the tip of a dragon tooth peeked out from it.


    The journey to the Burning Lands, it was explained by her father, was meant to hone your mind and prepare your body for what was to come; the long trip back was to give you the chance to regain possession of yourself. It was easy to lose yourself in your Totem¡¯s power, which was dangerous not just to yourself, but also to the people around you.


    It was especially important to those of the Dragon Clan, who were considered the apex of the clans. Great power required a strong will to keep it in check.


    The massive parts of the dragon weighed heavily on the girls, who had to drag them behind. Fialla¡¯s tooth was enough to craft a long dagger, or perhaps a short sword; Sheilah¡¯s was perhaps the largest tooth ever collected.


    As far as Sheilah knew, not even Adlan, champion and her own great-great grandfather, had slain a Tyrant Dragon.


    She wanted to experiment with her abilities, but they were too new, and the feeling of the Tyrant within her too strong to risk it, but she didn¡¯t get a choice in the matter.


    Supremacy was nothing like it had been before. When a massive Glass Spider clattered across several boulders towards the two girls, something boiled out of her with a searing heat, pushing away dust and ash away from her, washing over the shimmering arachnid, sending it into paroxysms of convulsions while a heady, giddy sense of superiority washed over her. The world lit up with vibrant colors, prismatic hues she¡¯d never seen before as her heart quickened in her chest, hands clenching into eager fists. There was an almost overpowering urge to race towards it and tear it apart. She tore her gaze away from the spider, and hit the ground on her knees as the heady rush drained out of her, colors bleeding back into the monotonous grays and browns of the Ashlands.


    Fialla stumbled away from Sheilah, eyes wide, trembling and gasping, hand on her chest, coughing and spitting dirt, struggling to keep her footing.


    ¡°I just...¡± She mumbled as the Glass Spider, much larger than the horse and cart the Stormheim intruders had used to steal into the Redlands, curled in on itself.


    ¡°I just...¡± She tried again, but she couldn¡¯t find the words. She vacantly gazed about her, and then down at her hands. She unclenched her fists, watching the dark crescents in her palms fade.


    ¡°Fialla-!¡± She twisted, looking for her shadow.


    The half elf offered her a half-shrug, and a complicated expression that troubled Sheilah more than anything.


    ¡°It just wants to come out.¡± Sheilah complained.


    Fialla nodded at that. ¡°It¡¯s so hard to keep it in check.¡± She agreed. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    The two girls discussed Calamity as they carefully picked their way across the broken landscape.


    ¡°My father told me that I¡¯d probably want to try that most of all.¡± Fialla opined. ¡°He¡¯s not wrong- I really do want to try it- but I really want to wait until we get back to the Dragon Terrace, first.¡± She added. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to take so much out of you, and there¡¯s too much out here-¡± She gestured around them, ¡°to risk it.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, but her own father had told her that it didn¡¯t matter what was sensible, when you were new to the powers of the Dragon, you wanted to try them as quickly as possible, indifferent to the risks and dangers.


    ¡°Strong will.¡± Sheilah grimaced, determined to keep in the urge to unleash her own Calamity.


    ¡°It might be necessary to fight our way through the remaining giants.¡± Fialla reminded Sheilah as they struggled up the long slope towards the passes. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯d be wise to do it while dragging this load.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°Obviously. But are they even there? Have they moved on? I think we should scout them out before making any sort of plan.¡±


    Fialla rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ¡°I haven¡¯t spotted any tracks from the other clansmen. Should we wait for them? Attack the giants in numbers again?¡±


    Sheilah squatted down and took a sip of water. Fialla joined her, but there was a noticeable distance she¡¯d put between herself and Sheilah; either the half-elf was struggling to master her own gifts, or she was simply terrified of Sheilah¡¯s own.


    She felt lonely at that prospect. Fialla was her shadow, a comforting, teasing, and sometimes obnoxious part of her life she¡¯d grown used to having, and her obvious distance upset her, especially given the straightforward and passionate vow she¡¯d made ... previously. How long ago? How long had she spent next to the Tyrant¡¯s corpse, devouring its heart?


    ¡°Do you think we can take a peek without getting spotted?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Fialla replied, and then patted her chest. ¡°The Dragon wants out, and...¡± She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s so hard to control!¡±


    Sheilah sobered up at this. She knew the struggle as well. The Dragon did not want to be denied. It did not want to sneak. It wanted to demand, it wanted to crush everything before it, anything that stood in its way needed to be brought low, scourged with fire. Only the strong survived.


    ¡°You live and die by your own strength.¡± Sheilah muttered, clenching her fist to her chest where a furious fire burned.


    Suddenly, the Dragon seemed to quell within her, calming down and settling itself within her; a strange sensation that prickled through her whole body.


    She looked to Fialla.


    ¡°You live and die by your own strength. That¡¯s what my father has been saying since the very beginning. Now I understand the meaning.¡±

 Chapter 27

    The two girls, human and half-elf, Sheilah and Fialla sat side-by-side, trying to think around the problem of dealing with giants while struggling to hold back the urge to try out their newfound abilities.


    It wasn¡¯t a simple matter of ¡°I will do this¡±, or ¡°I will not do that¡±, it was an impulse that burned in the chest and demanded to be let out with all the ferocity of a dragon¡¯s roar.


    Although the Tyrant within Sheilah had subsided, it simply refused the idea of stealth or sneaking.


    Supremacy was just that: the unwavering idea that all things should bow before it. Caution, stealth, sneaking- these were all ludicrous ideas that simply could not be countenanced.


    If Supremacy wasn¡¯t sufficient, Calamity would solve the problem. If Calamity and Supremacy didn¡¯t solve the problem, Indomitability and Immortality would allow it to grow stronger for another try. There simply was no reason for subtlety. This grated on Sheilah harshly since she was an ambush hunter, Attacking from range, attacking from stealth, singling out her prey one by one.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Fialla. The Tyrant is strong.¡± Sheilah replied, frustrated. ¡°It doesn¡¯t much like the idea of being careful. Marching into the city and burning it flat is its idea of solving the giant problem.¡±


    Fialla nodded.


    ¡°Let¡¯s eat, try to calm ourselves down, and try again.¡± Fialla suggested. Sheilah nodded, suddenly realizing she was famished again.


    Using a Dragon¡¯s power consumed the nutrients in your body like fuel; this was something that was known. What they were just learning for themselves however was that being enamored by the new powers that dwelled within them and demanded to be let out also consumed them.


    They settled down to a meal of rations, strips of meat, the coal-roasted tubers they¡¯d stolen from the giants before, and their remaining water, stuffing themselves full.


    ¡°I still think we should wait a while for the others. It would make it easier.¡± Fialla argued.


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°Likely what would happen is that the Dragons within us would see them as something to be subjugated.¡± She rebutted cynically.


    ¡°I¡¯m... kind of worried what might happen if I go to sleep.¡± Finally muttered, but Sheilah heard it anyway.


    ¡°You live and die by your own strength.¡± Sheilah reminded her. Fialla nodded doubtfully.


    Shailah shouldered the mound of materials, vaguely wondering what could be made from such a boon, when Neera showed up.


    ¡°It seems you two were successful.¡± She observed, her eyes thin reptilian slits.


    ¡°Yourself as well.¡± Sheilah replied as the Tyrant churned in her breast.


    Neera shook her head. ¡°Three of the Horned Snakes didn¡¯t come back to the camp we set up, so... I think they failed their hunts.¡±


    ¡°You think? I thought you were planning on working together?¡± Fialla asked, her eyes alight with the power of the Dragon.


    Neera grimaced, turning away from Fialla¡¯s gaze. ¡°We decided to do it properly.¡± She grumbled. ¡°Nobody likes being looked down on by anyone, especially by the Dragons.¡±


    She eyed the load Sheilah carried. ¡°That¡¯s quite a haul. Do you think you can make it past the giants?¡±


    Sheilah clenched her jaw; the Tyrant did not want to be addressed like this.


    ¡°We were just talking about that. Scout for us.¡± Fialla finished with a frustrated grimace.


    ¡°Strange way of asking for a favor.¡± Neera snorted derisively.


    Sheilah stepped back and struggled to turn away. The Tyrant demanded subjugation, violence, destruction, a savage message to any and all who dared oppose it so that all could see who was in charge. She closed her eyes and focused her attentions inward to keep from tearing Neera apart.


    Sheilah opened her eyes and discovered that somehow she was on her hands and knees, her sweat dripping from her face into the ash and dust to form dark clumps of mud.


    ¡°Are you... you?¡± Fialla asked again.


    ¡°I am.¡± Sheilah replied, pushing herself to her feet. ¡°I am unbearably hungry, though. Neera, do you have any food?¡±


    The Horned Snake woman eyed her cautiously. ¡°If I did, why should I share it with you?¡± She asked petulantly.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m asking you nicely.¡± Sheilah replied. She wanted to add a threat, but figured it¡¯d be counterproductive. A threat was a promise of violence, and if it came to that, wasn¡¯t Supremacy the better threat? To see her cowering and broken beneath her?


    Careful.


    She took a breath. She wanted to explain that it took a great deal of nourishment and sustenance to keep a Dragon¡¯s abilities satiated, but a Clan¡¯s powers were secret, and even discussing them obliquely was forbidden.


    ¡°Please.¡± She repeated.


    Neera let out a little sigh. ¡°I have rations and water from the three that didn¡¯t return.¡± She forwarded, and then added, ¡°I will trade them to you now for a future favor from the Dragons.¡±


    A shitty trade, no matter how you looked at it, but Sheilah nodded and stuck out her hand, which Neera took.


    The snake-eyed woman handed over the rations and waterskins; Sheilah and Fialla devoured the food, but forced themselves to drink the water sparingly. There wasn¡¯t much water to be found on the way home, after all.


    ¡°We certainly hurt the giants badly when we came through several weeks ago.¡± Neera mentioned as they sat in a small circle.


    Sheilah blinked at that; she¡¯d lost a lot of time while she was with the Tyrant.


    ¡°They have no womenfolk. Those we didn¡¯t kill outright were poisoned. They still have food and drink, which will be helpful to us.¡± Neera paused. ¡°I wish the Manticores were about. Their ability to paralyze would be welcome.¡± She waved her hand to show it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°If the giants were smart, they¡¯d leave. Go back to wherever it is they came from. Move on to wherever it is they think will be safe. With their women and girlchildren dying practically overnight, they have to know they¡¯re not welcome.¡±


    ¡°So you think we¡¯re safe to simply go on up?¡± Fialla asked brazenly, and Sheilah grimaced as she discovered she was driving her nails into the palms of her hands.


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    ¡°They¡¯re smart enough to build a city with stone, but they might be dumb enough to believe they need to protect it when there¡¯s no reason to stay.¡± Neera replied with a shrug.


    ¡°So... take a peek?¡± Sheilah asked, and Neera nodded. ¡°Take a peek.¡±


    The giant¡¯s city was just as they¡¯d left it, though there were many abandoned buildings on the outside. The remaining giants congregated towards the center.


    They discovered through Neera that during their raid, they¡¯d missed some of the women, who all apparently had been brought together and protected after their first raid.


    Sheilah and Fialla set up a camp in one of their food stores and gorged on their supplies. Meats, vegetables, roots, fruits and nuts, even their supplies of honeycomb.


    ¡°What do you think? Take the rest when we leave?¡± Fialla asked after gorging.


    Sheilah smiled around a mouthful of meat. ¡°As much as we can carry, sure. Though I think you¡¯re after their honey more than anything else.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t eat many sweets in the Redstone, after all.¡± Fialla replied.


    Sheilah laughed. ¡°Certainly true enough.¡±


    Neera returned to the storehouse, finding the two Dragons stuffing their packs with fruits, nuts, and honeycomb.


    ¡°You two certainly are having fun.¡± she scolded.


    ¡°We don¡¯t eat many sweets in the Redstone.¡± Sheilah replied, chewing on some beeswax, savoring the sweetness of the honey.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving me a share, right?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Fialla replied with an expansive gesture at the food stores around them. ¡°As much as you can carry.¡±


    ¡°Did you get their women?¡± Sheilah asked, but Neera shook her head.


    ¡°Too tightly guarded. I couldn¡¯t even get close. I¡¯ll need your help.¡± Neera replied succinctly.


    ¡°You should go, Sheilah.¡± Fialla encouraged. ¡°You¡¯ve still got your bow; you can kill them from a distance.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll help much.¡± Sheilah disputed.


    ¡°You cleared out most of that camp in the Redstone without them making a single noise.¡± The half-elven girl reminded her.


    ¡°So I kill the guards? Then what?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°Then Neera and I will kill the women. Hopefully they¡¯ll leave after that.¡±


    Sheilah closed her eyes and thought. What if they didn¡¯t leave? What if they moved into the Redstone and started a vendetta against the Clans?


    Show them fury.


    The path over the mountain. The way home.


    ¡°Load this cart with food and the things we¡¯ve gathered from the Ashlands.¡± Sheilah muttered, slapping one of the carts inside the food store with a free hand, and then looked to Fialla. ¡°Will you catch me if I fall, sister?¡±


    The Half-elf blinked a few times in confusion. ¡°Always. You should know this more than anyone.¡±


    Sheilah turned to Neela. ¡°Do you think you can drag this monstrous thing to the path we used on the mountain?¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s big, and looks heavy. Plus all of the things we¡¯ll toss in it.¡±


    Neera tugged on it experimentally. ¡°I think I could get it to the base of the mountain. I don¡¯t think I could get it up the mountain.¡±


    Sheilah looked to Fialla. ¡°Could you?¡±


    The half-elf pulled on it, wiggled it back and forth.


    ¡°Maybe if Neera helped. The stuff isn¡¯t so bad, it¡¯s just... huge.¡± That much was obvious, a cart sized for a giant was significantly larger than one for a human.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°All right. Load it up with as much as you think you can drag.¡± She looked to Fialla for a moment. ¡°This¡¯ll be my first time trying this, and I think it¡¯ll knock me out.¡±


    Fialla¡¯s eyes widened, and she nodded. She knew what Sheilah was talking about.


    Calamity, the unrelenting destructive power of the Dragon that allowed no quarter, that showed no mercy.


    The cost for using it was a difficult one. It had been explained to them. The power of the dragon was not something men were meant to wield.


    I will destroy them so that they will never set foot in the Redstone. I will destroy them so that they will never stand against my sisters. I will destroy them because they dare to stand against me.


    ¡°Neera, draw us a map here so that I can get as close to them as I can. Then take the cart and head for the mountain. Fialla will come with me to catch me ... if I fall. She¡¯ll meet you at the base of the mountain.¡±


    She looked to Fialla, looked to Neera, and then pulled the elven girl to the side. ¡°If I don¡¯t get this done right and I die... tell my father. Tell my sisters.¡± She whispered.


    Fialla got a panicked look on her face. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± She whispered back, shocked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never breathed fire before in my life!¡± Sheilah whispered to Fialla. ¡°What if I blow up or burn to a crisp or something?!¡±


    Fialla nodded at that. ¡°I tried it once, before I found you.¡± She whispered. ¡°It¡¯s... intense.¡±


    Sheilah nodded back, and then turned back to Fialla, a wordless shout of surprise on her lips. ¡°You-!¡± She blurted suddenly. ¡°I thought you said you were going to hold off until we got back to the Terrace!¡± She accused.


    ¡°I¡¯m allowed to make the wise choice after I learn from my stupidity!¡± Fialla snapped back, causing Sheilah to burst into laughter, which Fialla shared.


    The two of them joined Neera, who was drawing on the storeroom floor with a bit of wood, and hunkered down across from the map.


    Neera pointed as she explained where the patrols were, where the women likely were, and the path she¡¯d take out of the city.


    Neera snuck her way to the gate leading towards the mountains, dispatched the guards there and pushed the gate open, returned to the storehouse, and wrestled the cart through the gatehouse.


    Fialla and Sheilah made their way through the streets and scaled their way up one of the giant¡¯s peculiar dome-shaped buildings.


    Fialla gave Sheilah some increasingly peculiar looks as the human girl settled herself to watch the patrols.


    ¡°I notice you¡¯re not doing anything.¡± Fialla observed.


    Sheilah shook her head minutely. ¡°I¡¯m trying my best not to do something.¡± She replied simply, and then gestured behind her without looking. ¡°The next time the guard passes, throw a rock or something over there to catch his attention.¡±


    Fialla nodded, descended the building, and then climbed back up with a chunk of paving stone.


    As the giant passed, Fialla tossed the rock down the side of the building with a clatter. The giant moved, his heavy tread sending tremors through the building. Shielah rose up, drew an arrow to her cheek and loosed it in one smooth motion.


    The giant let out a cry, and Fialla leapt off the roof in much the same way she had the cliff edge in her hunt, driving her spear into the body of the giant, who tottered, tried to yell again, but collapsed to his side.


    Fialla retrieved Sheilah¡¯s arrows and climbed up the building.


    ¡°What next?¡± She asked, but Sheilah was already firing into a growing crowd of giants.


    Sheilah gestured. ¡°Over there, if we can make it.¡± She replied, pointing to another, similar dome-shaped building.


    Fialla nodded, and slid down that side, even as a mammoth spear shattered near her head. Sheilah joined her, and they buttonhooked around the building.


    ¡°So now what¡¯s the plan?¡± Fialla asked, panting. Sheilah shook her head and pointed in front. Across broad street was a building, and through that doorway the two clanswomen could see the giant¡¯s women.


    Sheilah took a long, deep breath, held it, and let it out. ¡°Be ready, Fialla.¡±


    ¡°What are you expecting to do from here?¡± She whispered tightly. ¡°There¡¯s no way you can reach them from here!¡±


    ¡°The Tyrant seems to think I can.¡± Sheilah whispered back.


    ¡°Maybe a bigger dragon will give you a bigger flame- I don¡¯t know- but they¡¯re in buildings made from stone!¡± Fialla worried.


    Sheilah closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining in her mind the great inhalation the Tyrant Dragon had done, remembering how the stone cliffs melted and smoked from its breath.


    This would be the giant¡¯s punishment for their affrontery. How dare they raise a city in front of her! How dare they stand in their way! How dare they try to live in front of her, under her very nose without bending to her overwhelming might! The audacity!


    She could feel the heat burning behind her eyelids. She could feel the seething furnace in her chest.  She opened her eyes, felt the fire in her chest reach its peak, opened her mouth, and then everything went white, and then black.

 Chapter 28a

    Note from the author:


    I seem to be missing the final copy of this chapter. I looked for it, and it simply isn''t there. How frustrating is that?


    I have the draft, but it''s a horrible, ugly thing that should never see the light of day. Something I''m ashamed to admit even exists, much less publish.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    I need to rewrite it again, apparently from scratch. Nobody is less happy about it than I am.


    I''d promise to publish it as soon as humanly manageable, but I also happen to be heading to the emergency room. Forgive me.


    My deepest apologies, and I''ll have the actual chapter 28 up next week.

 Chapter 28b

    ¡°Happy Birthday, Derek.¡± With that, his girlfriend placed an envelope in front of him.


    Derek didn¡¯t really like parties; he wasn¡¯t a terribly social person, and in deference to that, his birthday was held in his apartment with just him and his girlfriend. His friends would likely bombard him with well-wishes online and presents at work, but for now, it was just Danielle and Derek.


    He picked up the envelope and opened it up. It was a pair of tickets to a concert He''d wanted to go to.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m happy and all, and I¡¯m looking forward to going, but...¡± Derek trailed off. ¡°Would it be bad for me to say that I¡¯m not looking forward to the drive? Downtown is a mess of traffic at the best of times. I can¡¯t stand driving through it.¡±


    She laughed. She had a great laugh. ¡°Good thing you have a girlfriend willing to do it, huh?¡±


    ¡°I have the best girlfriend.¡± Derek immediately decided.


    ¡°Good answer.¡± She replied back. ¡°If you want to make your girlfriend even happier, you mind heading down to the store really quick and picking up some milk? I think we¡¯re just about out.¡±


    He nodded and scooped up the car keys.


    Derek stepped out of the air-conditioned apartment and the heat hit him with a moist, thick impact.


    Derek wasn''t used to living in Florida yet.


    In the beginning, he¡¯d started working at his job fresh out of college on the west coast of the US, got promoted and told to open a branch in Japan, then was told to open a branch in the Philippines, then in Texas, then Costa Rica, then Colorado. But then the economy started riding a roller coaster, and through no fault of his own, the branches started collapsing.


    He was moved to Colorado, and then two years later, to Kansas. Two years after that, Florida.


    Florida was where he met Dani, a schoolteacher.


    They hit it off right away.


    Florida however... Derek and Florida were still eyeballing each other warily across a table. It was always hot, it was always humid, and the air was always unbearably thick. There were times when Derek thought he could reach out with his hand and pull off a chunk of the air and eat it, it was so thick.


    He twirled his car keys on his fingers as he headed out to the parking lot, and spent a few minutes shooing away the lizards; tiny little things two or three inches long.


    He¡¯d learned that if he didn¡¯t do that, some would find their way into the car and crawl all over the place, including him. It was worse when they died inside the car from the heat.


    If there was one good thing Derek could say about Florida though, was that it was perpetually green. So much growth, everywhere. A riot of color, so vibrant and explosive.


    In most of the other places he¡¯d lived, everything was dirt brown, concrete gray, and asphalt black.


    He hopped in the car and drove to the grocery store, his mind a thousand miles away.


    He¡¯d have breakfast with Dani, then head into work, do his thing there, probably get bombarded with presents from his coworkers, head home to a dinner with Dani; same as every other day except with presents. In a few days they¡¯d go to a concert together.


    He arrived at the store, grabbed the milk, got in line, and groaned.


    An elderly woman stared myopically at the credit card reader just ahead of him, massive glasses perched on her birdlike nose.


    ¡°What¡¯s my PIN Number, dear?¡± She asked the cashier in a trembling voice.


    Oh boy.


    The cashier eyed Derek with a trapped look of despair. He gave her a sympathetic shrug.


    It took a while, but the old woman got squared away and made her way towards the doors, pushing her cart ahead of her like it was her walker.


    The cashier scanned the milk, Derek tapped his card, and he wished the cashier a good day. From that last exchange, it looked like she needed it.


    He took the milk and winced against the slap of humid air as he stepped out of the store.


    When someone opens a cold one and water beads on the outside, it¡¯s because the drink is colder than the surrounding environment. Water condenses on it.


    In Florida, people are the cold drink, and the air condenses on them.


    He strode across the parking lot, already slipping into the groove of commonplace routine: Go home, have breakfast with Dani, maybe steal a few kisses, go to work, deal with the eight hour slog-


    Movement out of the left side caused him to turn his head. A liquor truck was pulling into the parking lot, and the driver-


    Derek jolted- he tried to leapfrog out of the way, but the truck turned towards him. He bounced off the grill and rebounded off of it; he hit the asphalt on his back. The milk flew out of his hand and split on the pebbled asphalt in a garish white spray. The wheel ran over his leg and he didn¡¯t even have time to scream as the driver overcorrected and drove across his body, forcing a gush of blood from his mouth.


    Strangely, there was very little pain. Maybe someone in the gray matter was asleep at the switch, or maybe this was what shock was like, everything in his body was struck in numb silence.


    He could even feel the bump on his head when he hit the ground, bizarrely enough.


    He tried to take a breath and realized he couldn¡¯t.


    Could he scream? He couldn¡¯t even whisper. The split milk jug was laying nearby, its remaining contents gurgling out of the cracked plastic.


    Everything was fading. Derek couldn¡¯t see anything, anymore. Maybe it was white, maybe it was black, He couldn¡¯t tell. He couldn¡¯t see anything.


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    What a shitty way to die.


    *****


    ¡°Well, this is a nice-looking resume.¡± A voice called out to Derek, and he tried to bring everything into focus.


    He was ... where was he? Everything was blurry and indistinct. A fog of white.


    Someone was in front of him, but he couldn¡¯t tell who they were. Completely androgynous.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve been all over the place.¡±


    Where the fuck was he?


    ¡°You¡¯re where old folks go after Florida, hun.¡± The person replied snarkily.


    ¡°Funny.¡± Derek replied, suddenly remembering that he could, in fact, reply. ¡°So... that¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it. You¡¯re dead.¡± They replied, waving their hand dismissively.


    ¡°I ... well. No chance for a do-over? A miracle?¡±


    ¡°No do-overs from me, hun. If you come to me, you don¡¯t really deserve a miracle, if you catch my drift.¡±


    ¡°Deserve?¡±


    The figure nodded. ¡°No close ties at all. Your friends are just co-workers. You haven¡¯t been close to your family... ever.¡±


    ¡°Dani?¡± He asked hopefully.


    ¡°She¡¯ll get over you in a year, tops.¡± the figure replied with an indifferent shrug. ¡°You¡¯ve made some great strides in your life, but frankly, not a lot of attachments, if you catch my drift.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. That can¡¯t be true,¡± Derek argued.


    The figure gave him a patronizing look.


    ¡°If you had close friends, close family, if you¡¯d have actually developed a real relationship with Dani... well, you wouldn¡¯t even be talking to me.¡±


    Derek let that sink in, but the wheels were already spinning in his head.


    ¡°So... what comes next? Heaven? Hell? Valhalla?¡±


    The figure laughed, a strange, genderless, hollow laugh.


    ¡°If you actually believed in them, you wouldn¡¯t be talking to me.¡± They replied.


    ¡°So then... what? Nothingness? That can¡¯t be fair.¡±


    ¡°¡®Fair¡¯ he says.¡± they chuckled again. They waved a hand. ¡°I¡¯m the Great Equalizer. I am the epitome of ¡®fair¡¯. Death is always fair. It comes for everyone.¡±


    ¡°So... you¡¯re Death?¡± Derek asked dubiously. They nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯m who you speak to when you care too little and believe in nothing and nobody.¡± They waved a hand. ¡°If you believed in anything or anyone else, you¡¯d be talking to them, and maybe they¡¯d give you a miracle. They¡¯re in the business of miracles.¡±


    ¡°So... I fucked up.¡± He replied.


    ¡°Who am I to care what you did or didn¡¯t do?¡± Death replied. ¡°Nobody wanted you, so you came to me. That¡¯s life.¡± Death chuckled at the joke.


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®nobody wanted me¡¯?¡± Derek blurted angrily.


    Death pointed a finger upwards and then downwards. ¡°Them. Gods. Devils. Those that watch the world.¡± They leaned forward. ¡°If you believed in them, you¡¯d be talking to them. But you didn''t, so you¡¯re talking to me.¡± they jerked a thumb at their chest. ¡°I don''t do miracles.¡±


    ¡°We can spit platitudes at each other all day. What do you want?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Actually, that was my question to you. You don¡¯t have enough attachments to this world to send you back. I could give you a true death, if you like. Scatter your soul across the endless nothingness. I could give you a rebirth in that world. You¡¯d lose all your memories, everything. You wouldn¡¯t be you anymore.¡±


    ¡°... that doesn¡¯t sound like a lot of fun.¡± Derek admitted, a thread of fear working its way inside him. ¡°I might not have a lot of ¡®attachments¡¯ as you say, but I happen to like being me. I¡¯ve been me for as long as I can remember, and I think I¡¯m quite good at it.¡±


    The figure laughed. ¡°Well, it does say here that you¡¯ve got a sense of humor.¡± they suddenly rattled a folder filled with paper at me.


    ¡°Any way I can continue to be me?¡± He asked.


    ¡°What, like, the way you are now? Not in this world, hun. I could send you somewhere else, though. You¡¯d be you there.¡±


    Somewhere else? ¡°What, like a parallel world? Something else in the space-time continuum? A different time? Or would I be an alien?¡±


    They laughed. ¡°So you saw the PBS special on parallel world theory and how it extended into space-time. Good for you!¡±


    ¡°They played it when I was in the hospital when I was recovering from surgery, I didn¡¯t really have a choice. No, but for real. Where are you sending me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bad place for someone like you. It¡¯d be a much better place if you weren¡¯t a cynical asshole, though.¡±


    ¡°I prefer ¡®constantly disappointed optimist¡¯, thank you very much.¡± He snapped back, and they went off into gales of laughter again.


    After the laughter tapered off, The figure leaned forward. ¡°All right. I don¡¯t mind. Dead is dead, after all, and it¡¯s not like anyone cares what I do with your soul anyway. I¡¯ll send you there. You¡¯ll be born there, live there, and die there. You¡¯ll keep your memories.¡± The figure tapped a finger on the table Derek just realized they were sitting across from each other at.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing: You¡¯re a fully developed soul. A baby can¡¯t handle that sort of thing. It¡¯d die in vitro. That¡¯s how these things work. So parts of you will be sealed off for a while so you can grow up in your new body, in your new world. You should come fully awake... say... around puberty. Try not to die this time.¡±


    The figure leaned forward, and tapped their finger on the desk. ¡°Word of advice? Do yourself a favor and believe in something this time.¡±


    *****


    Davian opened his eyes and stared up at the tent, his wives nestled closely against his side, the cooling embers of the tent¡¯s fire ticking to themselves as they died.


    How long had it been since he¡¯d last had that dream?


    How long had it been since he¡¯d last thought of himself as Derek?


    How long had it been since he realized that nothing he knew previously was useful in this world, where only the strong survived?


    He¡¯d been born into the Clan of the Dragon, had taken in the lore of his tribe, taught to him by his grandfather and great-grandfather.


    He¡¯d been sold into slavery to another country by his own father for a handful of coins.


    For a while, every day had been a desperate scramble to keep his sanity.


    This world couldn¡¯t abide weaklings. A moment¡¯s laxity and something would kill you. If it didn¡¯t kill you, it broke your fucking heart.


    This last year with Sheilah was the hardest. There was so much he wanted to do with her, so much he wanted to do for her. He¡¯d even considered raising the banner of war for her.


    He wanted to comfort her more, to hold her close and tell her everything she needed to hear, to listen to everything she needed to say. To tell her that things would be alright, even if they wouldn¡¯t.


    He wanted to cry with her over his daughter¡¯s death, share his grief with hers.


    He wanted to do so much for her, but he couldn¡¯t. When Sheilah came back from her trial- if she came back- he hoped she¡¯d come back- He¡¯d have to hurt her again, and he wasn¡¯t looking forward to it. He¡¯d seen what Caidi¡¯s death had done to her, and he didn¡¯t want to see that again.


    It didn¡¯t matter that he was of the First Blood, the leader of the Dragon Clan, leader of the strongest Clan, the leader of the strongest tribe in the strongest clan in all of the Redstone.


    Despite being the strongest, he was the most powerless of them all.

 Chapter 29

    To the Clans of the Redstone, taking in the flesh and blood of their Totem animals was an important act- it connected them on an intimate and personal level. Not only did it create a symbolic bond between them, those of the Clans found their bodies changing, taking on some of the characteristics of their Totems.


    In the strictest sense, those from the Clans were something more than human, and the more they ate, the more they changed, deviating further and further from humanity. An unspoken but emphatic rule existed in cautionary tales told in each Clan: that you only hunted one adult in your lifetime, lest you lose your humanity. There was a Dragon Clan story, a man who had eaten from the flesh of several dragons. He¡¯d grown wings himself. He¡¯d also lost his sense of humanity and disappeared; more dragon than man.


    Sheilah¡¯s flame blazed white-hot, lighting up the evening glow of the city into daylight. It seared across the street, melting the stone in a glassy streak.


    Fialla¡¯s eyes widened at the molten stream of fire that blasted out from Sheilah. It punched through the building housing the women, melting stone like candle-wax, turning the giants she could see into ash as they were caught in the wake of her flame.


    The collapsing building still burned, its stone melting and puddling, a furious heat baking off of it like the sun in noontime summer.


    Fialla was both in awe and jealous of Sheilah¡¯s blast. She herself could only produce a jet like Sheilah¡¯s father had demonstrated- a short-ranged jet of flame- something that could likely kill one of the giants if it was aimed directly at the monster¡¯s face.


    Such power came at a price, however: Sheilah immediately collapsed, emaciated and trembling.


    Fialla grabbed her friend, feeling the weak and thready pulse in the girl¡¯s wrist as she went completely limp.


    What did Sheilah need? Food? Water? Air? Rest?


    What she needed was to get out of there. Fialla wasn¡¯t certain how many giants were left, but the two of them needed to leave, and quickly. She shouldered Sheilah¡¯s bow briskly as she heard the howls and strange, thunderous tongue of the giants as they rushed towards the conflagration, and got her shoulder under Sheilah¡¯s and pulled her away in the shadows.


    She took a scant second to take in Sheilah¡¯s condition; the girl was limp, unconscious, stick-thin as if she hadn¡¯t eaten well in months. Fialla tried to get Sheilah to her feet, but the human girl couldn¡¯t stand on her own. Sheilah was much too big to carry in her arms. It was possible Fialla could carry Sheilah on her back, but for her to do that, she wouldn¡¯t be able to use either Sheilah¡¯s bow or her own spear.


    You live and die by your own strength.


    Will you catch me if I fall, sister?


    You live and die by your own strength.


    Will you catch me if I fall, sister?


    Fialla¡¯s expression twisted in anguish.


    So much of the lifestyle of the Clans revolved around independence. Self-reliance. The certainty that if you got in over your head, you were on your own. If you fell down, it fell to no one but yourself to pick yourself up.


    By all rights, Fialla should abandon Sheilah, walk away and not look back. There was no reason to not just walk away. If she did, she could use her spear. If she did, she could use Sheilah¡¯s bow, take the other girl¡¯s quiver. Fialla¡¯s chances of survival would be more realistic.


    But Sheilah had asked. She¡¯d asked.


    Fialla, after several moments in agonized reflection carefully propped Sheilah against the side of one of the giant¡¯s buildings, and then hefted her spear, and climbed the side of the building, nimble as a cat.


    She peeked out at the swarm of giants that roared and jabbered in their incomprehensible tongue. There was a scalding hiss and a burst of steam as one of them tossed a bucket of water, trying to douse the flames. More giants appeared with buckets, each trying to quench the blaze that burned stone.


    Fialla slid back down, propped Sheilah up, hoisted the taller girl onto her back, and scuttled into an alley that was dim and shadowy.


    Sheilah had asked, after all.


    Fialla took a break- Sheilah was larger than her and unwieldy, but not heavy enough to cause the smaller girl concern- and went through the girl¡¯s pouches. She found a small sack of honey candies- She had no idea how Sheilah had come by them- tucked one in Sheilah¡¯s mouth and one in her own, hoisted the girl up, and continued moving towards the outer edges of the city, specifically to the food store the girls had claimed as their own.


    Sweat trickled down Fialla¡¯s face as she marched grimly, moving from shadow to shadow, building to building. She ignored the burning in her arms and legs, the ache in her back as she carried Sheilah.


    When Fialla arrived at the warehouse, Neera eyed Fialla with wide eyes. ¡°What happened out there? What¡¯s with that fire?!¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Fialla replied. ¡°The Dragon Clan happened.¡± She replied as she rested Sheilah on the floor of the warehouse. ¡°I thought you were supposed to take the cart out of the city?¡± She prompted.


    Neera let out a breath that sounded more like a hiss. ¡°The giants were on the move, so I couldn¡¯t. I was just about to, when you arrived.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Help me get her on the cart, then.¡±


    The two girls got Sheilah into the cart, who still hadn¡¯t woken up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take one of the cart grips, you take the other.¡± Fialla offered as she jumped down beside the Horned Snake Girl.


    Neera immediately frowned. ¡°Night¡¯s nearly here. I¡¯m not going out there at nighttime. If you want to try, I¡¯ll wish you well, but...¡±


    Fialla sighed. Each Clan¡¯s gifts were different. Dragons had no problem seeing at night, but it might not be easy for the Horned Snakes.


    ¡°Is it because you can¡¯t see, or is it because you¡¯re tired?¡± Fialla asked directly. Neera immediately looked away from Fialla. ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡± She complained.


    Fialla eyed the contents of the cart: A barrel of water, a barrel of some type of alcohol, some boxes of fruits and vegetables, meats and cheeses, cloth, and the materials Fialla, Neera, and Sheilah had collected from their Ashlands hunt.


    She pulled out the fabrics from the boxes, and wrapped Sheilah up in them to keep her warm. She broke off a piece of cheese and stuffed it into her mouth and jolted. It tasted completely different from the sharp goat cheese she was used to. It seemed richer, somehow. Tastier.


    She ran her finger through Sheilah¡¯s mouth; it seemed the girl had eaten the candy at some point. Fialla nodded. Good, she was still alive. She trickled a little water into the girl¡¯s mouth and watched as she reflexively swallowed.


    She nodded again, and grabbed the great handholds on the cart experimentally. It would be difficult to drag it. The thing was made for someone much, much taller than she was.


    ...if only Sheilah was awake. She¡¯d find a way. Sheilah could do anything.


    Fialla grabbed one of the handholds on the cart and began to drag it out of the city. With the fire to keep the giants busy, there was no problem at all getting out of the city. There was a sense of irritation with Neera, who had decided she was either unwilling or unable to pull the cart herself, but Fialla focused her attentions to putting one foot in front of the other, dragging the giant cart forward, step by step.


    Fialla was young, strong, well-fed and well-rested. More, she carried the blood of a Dragon in her veins. She heaved and struggled, dragged and hauled the cart up the mountain. Sweat gushed from every pore. Her limbs throbbed, ached, burned. She refused to give up in front of a Horned Snake.


    Once they were on the path, Neera sighed, earning a particularly barbed look from Fialla, since the girl had done nothing at all to help.


    ¡°Finally. We can have a campfire and some real food.¡± Neera offered.


    ¡°Did your wits escape you?¡± Fialla argued, and then pointed down at the giant¡¯s city, which still burned.


    ¡°They¡¯re probably very pissed off about what we did. The moment a campfire goes up where they can see-¡± She let it go. Neera probably knew it, too.


    She climbed up on the handcart, gave Sheilah more food and water, and then lay down next to the girl and fell asleep, her knife close at hand, her spear within reach.


    When Fialla woke up, Neera was gone. She expected as much. Neera wanted to get home as quickly as possible, to craft her own weapons, to show her proof of adulthood.


    Fialla kindled a small fire, and cooked a broth made of meat and vegetables they¡¯d liberated. After it had cooled, she fed Sheilah, who was able to swallow, which was a relief to the half-elven girl. Really, Fialla wanted to pump her as full of food and drink as quickly as possible so that Sheilah could at least be up and around and able to talk.


    She ate her own meal and drank some broth, resolutely not thinking about the immeasurably long journey home. She made water, buried the fire, and began dragging the cart along the path the giants had created. The ground would be rocky and probably untenable further along, but she could at least hope that Sheilah would be up and about by then.


    It was midday when Neera reappeared, looking bashful and ashamed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I thought I¡¯d...¡± She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Let me help.¡±


    Fialla nodded, and the two of them dragged the cart around the mountain.


    Neera pointed at a slope that looked like an easy downward grade. ¡°I think that would work, if we turned the cart around and then held on to it as it went down. What do you think?¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I¡¯m going to feed Sheilah first, and drink some water.¡±


    Neera nodded.


    Sheilah¡¯s eyes were cracked open when Fialla climbed up on the cart. ¡°Decided to wake up?¡± Fialla asked her, but got no response. She poked some food and broth into her, drank some herself, nodded to Neera, and eased the cart down the mountain.


    There was still the plains, which was littered with volcanic jets, but she figured that they could get through it if they were careful. If they could get through it, then all that was left was the narrow passes into the Redstone Valley.


    As they started planning their trip across the valley, a few of the kids- young adults- from the other clans caught up to them. Naturally, the story on everyones¡¯ lips was the burning city of the giants.


    ¡°Will you help us get the cart to the Redstone Valley?¡± Fialla asked, and they nodded.


    With their help, they were able to get through the passes and into the Redstone. The others decided that their duty to the Clan of the Dragon had been discharged, so they left, including Neera.


    Fialla sat on the cart for a while, trying to sort out her feelings; a hot, jumbled mess of anger, frustration, disappointment and despair.


    There was no way she would be able to wrestle the cart all the way back to the Dragon Terrace by herself. There were places in the Redstone that were much too narrow. There was no smooth, even ground. In retrospect, the cart had been a terrible idea, more trouble than it was worth.


    She was suddenly filled with a spiteful hatred towards Sheilah. How could she just burden her like this? Force her to care for the stupid girl that didn¡¯t even know how to use her power correctly?


    Stupid, spiteful bitch.


    Fialla tried to squash the feelings in her heart, but she suddenly realized she couldn¡¯t. Suddenly everything pissed her off. All of her emotions were erupting, all at once, and each one flowered into anger and fury. She petulantly punched the cart, and a hard, splintery delight erupted in her, hot and savage, and she vented her spleen on it, punching, kicking and clawing at it with her long black nails while she panted and growled.


    She came back to herself as she realized she was trying to bite one of the slats on the cart- what was she doing?- and then she threw her head back and screamed out her frustrated rage, letting out a jet of fire that soared to the heavens before shivering apart into sparks and embers.


    She stumbled back away from the cart, feeling weak and numb, limbs rubbery, her head feeling hot, loose and empty, as if it might detach itself from her body and drift away.


    She stumbled and sat down abruptly, all the strength gone from her limbs.


    ¡°Oh.¡± She muttered through numb lips. ¡°I made a mistake.¡±

 Chapter 30

    Fialla didn¡¯t quite pass out, but she wavered between waking and sleeping, on her back, in the dirt, in the wastelands of the Redstone.


    The Dragon was in her, now. She wasn¡¯t certain what could or would rouse it, but she realized that if she wasn¡¯t careful, it would leap out from her with the slightest provocation. It was pure lunacy at how easily she¡¯d lost herself to the Dragon, to the power that burned like a furnace in her chest.


    ¡°Dragon.¡± A male voice suddenly sneered, full of contempt.


    ¡°There¡¯s two of them.¡± a feminine voice replied. ¡°This one looks bad.¡±


    Fialla opened her eyes and struggled to her feet, yanking her knife from her belt, and grimaced as dizziness washed over her in a wave, threatening to knock her off her feet.


    Three clansmen stood next to the cart where Sheilah lay. Their hair was variegated streaks of white and gray, their eyes shifted from gray to blue and back again.


    ¡°Thunderbirds.¡± Fialla growled, her voice dripping with equal contempt. ¡°What are you doing in the Redstone?¡±


    The girl eyed the two boys, and then Fialla.


    ¡°Returning home.¡± She replied matter-of-factly. ¡°Are you well? Do you need help?¡± She asked curiously.


    ¡°We¡¯re fine.¡± Fialla replied. It was obvious to anyone that had eyes that neither her nor Sheilah were fine, but Dragons never bent their necks to the Thunderbirds.


    The three exchanged looks between themselves, shrugged and moved off, heading deeper into the Redlands.


    Fialla let out a breath she didn¡¯t realize she was holding, and approached the cart. Sheilah lay on her side, clutching a steel dagger of all things in her hand, eyes slitted, jaw clenched.


    ¡°Thunderbirds.¡± Fialla muttered to Sheilah. ¡°What do they know?¡± She asked rhetorically.


    Sheilah¡¯s lips quirked up a little at that, but her hand loosened and her eyes closed.


    Fialla took some time to eat some food, sharing it with her sister Sheilah, washing it down with sips of water. Despite having a barrel of it, the habit remained; you only took the smallest sips of water to stretch out what you had. She gave some to Sheilah, who swallowed, but didn¡¯t seem to wake.


    The closest place she could think of where they could rest was the box canyon with a cave in the back, the cave that held curiously hot pools of water, so once she¡¯d fed herself and rested a little, she grabbed the enormous handles of the cart and struggled to drag it further into the Redlands.


    Fialla scouted out the box canyon carefully; nobody had claimed it as theirs, and it still bore the obvious signs of Sheilah¡¯s massacre. Giant bones, cracked and broken open for the marrow, were scattered around, picked clean by scavengers.


    Fialla carried Sheilah into the cave, and eased her into one of the pools of water. Sheilah bobbed in the water, occasionally drinking some of it as Fialla rinsed herself off.


    Fialla fed Sheilah some more, and Sheilah was finally able to speak in a whispering croak.


    ¡°I¡¯m ... sorry...¡± She mumbled hoarsely, but Fialla ignored it, bundled the human girl back into the pile of cloth they¡¯d liberated from the giants, and tucked her back onto the cart.


    She ate again, feeling her strength returning with every bite. As she ate, she poked Sheilah¡¯s mouth with food, watching the human girl eating more and more.


    ¡°Things are looking up.¡± Fialla muttered as she glanced at the sky, holding her spear in her lap.


    She resolved to herself that she would use her own tooth and dragonbone to make one like it; her family¡¯s weapon had performed admirably, and she¡¯d been able to dispatch her dragon quickly. She couldn¡¯t wait to tell her family the tale.


    It happened so quickly, it was almost anticlimactic. She¡¯d thrown herself off the cliffside, letting gravity yank her down as she plummeted into the gorge, thrusting at the last minute as she hit the dragon right between the wings, feeling the grisly crunch as her spear punched through skin and bone.


    The dragon had roared with mortal hurt and dropped like a rock, slamming into the floor of the gorge, a place that was thick with a bitter fog that prickled the eyes and throat. She¡¯d fallen off the dragon¡¯s back  but hadn¡¯t let go of her spear as she tumbled, rolling over and over and over.


    She¡¯d pushed herself to her feet, feeling her eyes weeping tears as she desperately peered into the thick fog, trying to find her dragon.


    Her Totem roared in the gloom, a roar of dying and frustrated, impotent rage against it. She launched herself forward, and as the haze cleared she lunged, shoving her spear with all her might, catching the drake right under the jaw, right in the soft spot, punching through the dragon¡¯s wattles. She shoved harder, and felt the spearhead punch up into the dragon¡¯s brain. The beast gurgled, shuddered, and died. Fialla drew her knife and cut into the drake, seeking its heart, drinking its blood as she did.


    Fialla came back to herself with a shake. Sheilah¡¯s dragon had been a monster, comparatively speaking. It was a wonder that the girl had succeeded at all. She crushed her feelings of inadequacy- it was expected that Sheilah¡¯s dragon would be impossibly large, impossibly powerful. Sheilah could do anything, even if it meant pushing herself to the absolute limits, like she did in the giant¡¯s city. One breath of dragon¡¯s fire, of Calamity, and they were able to solve the problem of the giants.


    ¡°Still, you¡¯re kind of a bitch.¡± Fialla muttered.


    ¡°...sorry...¡± Sheilah croaked.


    ¡°I promised.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°Can you eat on your own, at least?¡±


    ¡°Think so.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°Then eat and keep eating.¡± Fialla replied brusquely. ¡°I want to get home.¡±


    ¡°Me too, sister.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I should have brought Lonato¡¯s spear.¡±


    ¡°The bow?¡± Fialla prodded.


    ¡°They were right. Not as good as I¡¯d hoped.¡± Sheilah whispered between bites. ¡°I probably would have had better luck if I¡¯d surprised it, instead of the other way around.¡±


    ¡°And if you¡¯d had a spear instead?¡± Fialla asked curiously.


    ¡°...I¡¯ve done a lot of dumb things.¡± Sheilah admitted. ¡°Using a sword when a spear was better. Using a knife. The bow... it¡¯s good, but not good enough against dragons.¡±


    Fialla mulled this over for a moment. ¡°Good thing you don¡¯t have to kill any more dragons, then.¡± She replied.


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    ¡°Heh.¡± Sheilah replied simply. ¡°I still think I¡¯ll have a spear made.¡± She decided, and rolled onto her back. ¡°The Dragon wants to fly.¡± She muttered to herself.


    ¡°A couple of Thunderbirds came by while you were out of it.¡± Fialla offered as she stuffed a piece of honeycomb into her mouth.


    ¡°Thunderbirds.¡± Sheilah spat contemptuously.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Fialla agreed.


    ¡°What¡¯d they want?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    ¡°They wanted to know if we needed help.¡± Fialla replied.


    ¡°As if we¡¯d take help from them.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Self-appointed lords of the sky.¡±


    Fialla nodded.


    ¡°I want to try walking, sister.¡± Sheilah mused. ¡°Would you mind helping me up?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll want to put on clothes first.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°I didn¡¯t dress you after the pool.¡±


    ¡°Fair point.¡± Sheilah agreed.


    Sheilah was able to dress herself, albeit slowly, and she was able to hobble around, with Fialla assisting her.


    ¡°This won¡¯t do. I want to walk onto the Dragon Terrace on my own feet.¡± Sheilah complained, easing herself onto the cart, and eating again. She was ravenously hungry, and it seemed like no matter how much she ate, she was never full. She knew that part of it was her body, desperate to restore lost nutrients, part of it was also the Dragon, needing vital essence to unleash its Calamity upon the world.


    ¡°Ugh.¡± Sheilah complained, and relayed what she was feeling to Fialla.


    Fialla took a long breath, and shared what had happened to her.


    ¡°You lost your temper? Just like that?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    Fialla nodded.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll pay attention to it.¡±


    Over the next few days, Sheilah became more animated, becoming able to feed herself, stand and walk about for short distances, and take care of her personal needs, all of which was an immense relief for the two of them.


    ¡°I can¡¯t wait to get out of here. Anything comes into the canyon and we¡¯re done for.¡± Sheilah complained, sitting idly in the cart, kicking her feet, devouring the food that was piled in the cart. Fialla could almost visibly see her friend recovering her lost weight, padding out her musculature with natural body fat, returning to the lean, somewhat shapely figure she¡¯d been before she¡¯d blown that great blast.


    ¡°Your fault.¡± Fialla immediately accused.


    ¡°Yeah, my fault.¡± Sheilah agreed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting it to hit so hard. It almost felt like my soul was getting sucked out with Calamity.¡± She lowered her head. ¡°I¡¯m really, really glad you didn¡¯t leave me behind.¡± She admitted in a low voice. ¡°You should have, but you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I promised.¡± Fialla replied, and turned an angry face to Sheilah. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have done it for anyone else but you.¡± She paused, ¡°But it was really unfair of you to do that. To ask that of me! I had to carry you through the city- I had to drag this stupid piece of shit cart all the way here! You owe me, Sheilah of the First Blood!¡±


    ¡°I owe you beyond what words can say and deeds can do, Fialla.¡± Sheilah replied formally. ¡°Name it, and it¡¯s yours.¡±


    Fialla sighed and changed the subject.


    ¡°You¡¯re eating quite a bit.¡± Fialla observed.


    ¡°Hungry.¡± Sheilah replied, tossing a fruit to Fialla, who caught it and began eating, herself.


    ¡°Feel up to walking?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d like to try and haul the cart for a little bit. Just to see if I can.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°I think that¡¯d be nice to see.¡± Fialla agreed.


    Sheilah had recovered completely by the time they¡¯d discovered Olin¡¯s corpse. The boy had died where he¡¯d spoken to the two girls before they¡¯d left, his body desiccated, leeched of moisture, a riot of deadly flowers blooming from his body, the kind that shot seeds that burrowed into the flesh.


    He was curled up in the same position as he had been when they¡¯d left him.


    It didn¡¯t make sense to them. If you were smart and quick and didn¡¯t mind a little pain, you could cut the seeds out with a small knife before they worked their way in deep enough to be a danger.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t he do it?¡± Fialla wondered.


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°You live and die by your own strength.¡±


    ¡°Well, get hauling.¡± Fialla replied, glaring at Sheilah and tucking a piece of cheese into her mouth.


    ¡°Your mother was a Desert Rat.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°My mother was a Dragon, the same as you.¡± Fialla replied simply.


    That actually needled at Sheilah, however. Her father was Davian, leader of the Dragon Clan, who in turn, led the other Clans. Both of her mothers, Ladria and Myrin, were Wild Elves.


    Sheilah however, was a full-blooded human. Who was her mother? Her real mother? It bothered her, from time to time. Worse, Davian was closemouthed about everything. He didn¡¯t answer questions, he never told stories about the things he had done, he never explained anything.


    It vexed her to hear of her father¡¯s history from other people besides her family.


    Sheilah spotted something familiar in the distance and closed her eyes, trying to find answers within.


    ¡°Hey, Fialla.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Sheilah?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to try something really stupid.¡± She offered, which drew a snickered comment as to whether or not Sheilah had ever done anything really smart.


    ¡°Ass.¡± Sheilah accused, but laughed along with Fialla.


    ¡°What are you going to try?¡± Fialla asked after the shared moment passed.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to try and control my breath so that it doesn¡¯t knock me into uselessness.¡± Sheilah explained.


    ¡°So... If something happens to you, you want me to look after you again. Right?¡± Fialla asked, a frown growing on her face.


    ¡°Yes please.¡± Sheilah offered.


    ¡°Has anyone ever been able to control the strength of their Calamity?¡± Fialla asked.


    Sheilah blinked at the comment. ¡°I don¡¯t... actually know.¡± She replied. ¡°I don¡¯t... I¡¯ve never asked.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s wise to do it so far from home?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s best to do it out here, away from anyone else.¡± Sheilah replied. She pointed around. ¡°The ledge over there drops down into the Forest Spider territory. That¡¯s the wall of the Redstone.¡±


    She pointed out an upthrust of rock. ¡°Over there is the rock with the Hive Lizards, right?¡± Sheilah pointed, and Fialla nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s my target. My goal is to not fall flat on my face, gutted out like I was the first time I used it.¡± Sheilah decided.


    Fialla frowned again, was silent for a while, while she mulled over what Sheilah had decided.


    ¡°If you do it from the back of the cart, then I can take you home. If you get down from the cart, then you¡¯re on your own.¡±


    You lived and died by your own strength.


    ¡°All right.¡±


    ¡°Well, let fly when you think you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Once again, a streak of flame boiled out from Sheilah with a terrific heat that nearly pushed Fialla backwards, searing across the ground. The rock that the Hive Lizards lived under vanished, the streak of flame continued, boiling the stone, slamming into one of the Valley walls and boring a hole into it.


    Shielah immediately collapsed in the back of the cart.


    Fialla sighed and began dragging the cart with her for a ways, and then stopped as soon as she felt a rumbling beneath her feet.


    An atonal crack of stone that was more felt than heard rumbled like a thundercrack; part of the Redstone Valley wall sheared away, hit the ground and shivered into mammoth splinters of stone. Suddenly water seethed and gushed from the wall Sheilah had punctured with her Calamity, boiling forth with frothy streamers as it surged around the shards of rock, slid down the glassy streak that Sheilah¡¯s flame had left, and continued across the ledge, eventually falling down into the Forest Spider¡¯s territory.


    Fialla watched the water flowing with a certain sense of wonder. There was only one river and one lake in the entire Redstone; Sheilah had changed that.


    She peered over the cliff; below them were the lands of the Forest Spider, what was considered a Minor Totem because they didn¡¯t need to go into the Ashlands for their trials. They¡¯d likely welcome the water.


    She sighed, then went back to Sheilah, who was once again emaciated, gasping and shaking.

 Chapter 31

    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.

 Chapter 32

    In the morning, a new change.


    Well, several new changes. First, she needed to get her own bowl and utensils, instead of being handed them by her mothers.


    Secondly, she had to get used to eating with missing teeth. She¡¯d lost a few when she¡¯d last used Calamity, and she was worried that they wouldn¡¯t regrow. She¡¯d lost her baby teeth a long time ago, after all. There was the chance that the dragonblood within her would regrow them, but she wasn¡¯t sure, and she wasn¡¯t sure if she should ask.


    Normally, around the breakfast meal, Davian and her mothers would confirm the girl¡¯s plans for the day. However-


    Davian looked to Ladria, who gave him a small smile. ¡°I¡¯m quite busy with the gardens, you know. I¡¯ll be there.¡±


    Mayrin simply looked to Ladria, but the other woman gave her a small frown. ¡°It¡¯s a long walk, Mayrin, and you¡¯re pregnant. Are you sure?¡± she asked, a touch of worry in her voice.


    Mayrin nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a lot less stressful than working the forge or tanning leather.¡± Mayrin replied coolly.


    Davian looked to Kellia and Sellia, who gave him complicated looks and a side glance at Sheilah. ¡°We¡¯ll be heading north to look for dragonlings.¡±


    He nodded at that, gave Sheilah a slight, subtle glance, but nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve been¡± he paused and grimaced, ¡°given permission to hunt in the Timberwolf territory.¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°As if I needed such a thing.¡±


    Everyone besides Sheilah decided the meeting was seemingly over- nobody had asked or told- even acknowledged Sheilah¡¯s plans for the day. Further, she wasn¡¯t actually certain what she should do. All of her life had been doing chores and preparing for her Dragon hunt.


    Her dragon had been hunted, she was an adult now, but... what did that mean? There were certain things that were expected of her of course, but what did that mean, concretely? What was her day to be like?


    Davian stopped the two girls. ¡°Listen, Kellia, Sellia: With the Minor Clans, many of them live in tune with their Totems- their Totems live in their land, and they share the same food. So they make sure there¡¯s enough food for their Totems to eat. This time, I had to exchange favors with the Timberwolf in order to hunt on their lands.¡± His mouth twisted. ¡°Some things need to be tolerated, even if we don¡¯t like to do them.¡±


    The conversation with the two girls over, he turned to leave. None of the others so much looked at Sheilah.


    Sheilah looked to Davian. ¡°Father, I-¡± she began, and gave him a helpless look.


    He gave her a tiny smile. ¡°Get a bow- not yours- and come with me.¡± He paused. ¡°First, tend to your dishes, and then come along with me.¡±


    She blinked and realized that neither of her mothers had taken her dishes after the meal was over.


    She grimaced, and tended to her chores quickly before stepping out of the tent, where her father was waiting for her.


    He passed her a bow and quiver wordlessly, gestured to the trail that would eventually lead to the Timberwolves territory.


    ¡°It¡¯s expected that an adult will decide for themselves their schedule.¡± Davian began, answering Sheilah¡¯s unspoken question. ¡°You¡¯re an adult now. Fix your own meals, clean your own dishes-¡± he gestured to indicate ¡®so on and so forth¡¯, ¡°and decide for yourself what you¡¯re to do. There¡¯s no real need for us to ask what you plan, and there¡¯s no real need for you to tell us. You are an adult now, with an adult¡¯s responsibilities.¡± He explained, and then paused. ¡°It¡¯d be nice if you told us. We¡¯re part of your family, your tribe, your clan, so there¡¯s a certain degree of accountability there, too.¡±


    He looked to Sheilah. ¡°You understand?¡±


    She nodded.


    He rubbed his chin. ¡°Further, you shouldn¡¯t sleep with your sisters anymore. It sends a mixed message. You¡¯re supposed to be an adult, so you shouldn¡¯t sleep with children.¡± He explained. ¡°There¡¯s a separate part of the tent that I need to set up for you to move into. It¡¯s something that hasn¡¯t been needed to put up since...¡± He trailed off, ¡°Since before you were born.¡±


    She nodded. She was an adult, but unmarried. She couldn¡¯t sleep in the portion of the tent that was reserved for her parents; nor could she sleep with her siblings.


    ¡°Should I move out?¡± She asked.


    He shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t have to until-¡± He caught himself, ¡°unless you find a husband.¡± He gave her a side look with a smile, ¡°though you haven¡¯t seemed interested in that.¡±


    She gave him a bewildered look. ¡°I¡¯ve been focused on preparing for my Dragon hunt! When was I supposed to do that?¡± She asked indignantly.


    He gave her a stunned look. ¡°The tribal gatherings and the Clan gatherings are for that. You¡¯re supposed to.. meet others you¡¯ve never met, make friends, find partners.¡± He gave her a honestly curious look. ¡°You didn¡¯t know that?¡±


    She shook her head, and he gave her a laugh and slapped her on the back. ¡°Well, now you know!¡± He joked, still laughing.


    It was so strange, seeing him so unrestrained, and she told him so.


    ¡°Eh... well...¡± He began, and then shrugged. ¡°There aren¡¯t many times for things like this.¡± He finally admitted. ¡°It¡¯s all of the ... unspoken rules and traditions of the Clans. We need to be... cold and aloof.¡± He replied. ¡°You understand.¡±


    She nodded.


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    ¡°But now that you¡¯re an adult, we can speak to each other as equals.¡± He admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve... been looking forward to this.¡±


    He looked ahead and pointed. ¡°Those foothills are the Timberwolves¡¯ territory.¡± he explained, as if she didn¡¯t know that for herself. ¡°When we¡¯re hunting we won¡¯t be able to speak to each other easily-¡± he looked at her significantly, ¡°-you understand?¡± He asked.


    She nodded, and she deliberately slowed her pace, so that she could talk to her father that much longer.


    Over the next few days came the crafting of Sheilah¡¯s weapon, something that her father saw to.


    As she¡¯d promised to herself, she demanded a spear, but her father merely looked at her and laughed.


    ¡°From a tooth like that?¡± He¡¯d asked with a chuckle, and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll see to your weapon. There¡¯s so much material here, we can afford to be creative.¡±


    She wanted to watch her weapon being crafted, but he simply shooed her away and worked on it in secret.


    Her mothers, Ladria and Mayrin, were somewhat distant to her, and had been since she¡¯d returned. It took her some time to think it through, but she eventually realized that they were no longer treating her as ¡°Sheilah the child¡± and were instead treating her as ¡°Sheilah the adult¡± which made her a little sad, since she missed their closeness.


    It was a necessary change, however. She had survived her trial. She was no longer a child. She had passed through the fires of her rite of passage and had come out the other side. She could no longer be a child; she had to start behaving as she was: an adult.


    Her sisters, the twins Kellia and Sellia however, still treated her as they always had; as an older sister, albeit with a certain reverential awe. She had gone into the volcanic wastes of the Ashlands and had killed a dragon and returned.


    She began to spend time away from the tent, but this time no one stopped her or complained when she left. She was an adult now, and so she was able to set her own hours.


    ¡°It feels weird.¡± Fialla mentioned to Sheilah as they sat together on a knuckle of rock that overlooked part of the Dragon Terrace. ¡°All I did was kill a dragon.¡± She added. There was a pause, and then she added, ¡°It wasn¡¯t even that hard.¡±


    ¡°You had the advantage of catching it by surprise.¡± Sheilah reminded her.


    ¡°True enough, I suppose.¡± Fialla replied, and produced a waterskin. ¡°Drink?¡± She proffered.


    Sheilah took a drink and then choked. It wasn''t water, but some potent alcohol.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Sheilah sputtered, and Fialla laughed. ¡°Some of the drink we snatched from the giants.¡±


    Sheilah took another drink. ¡°You could have warned me.¡± She remarked sourly.


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty popular right now, you know. We don¡¯t have much fruit here in the Redstone, so this is a rare treat.¡± Fialla pointed out.


    ¡°Be careful.¡± Sheilah warned. ¡°Nobody appreciates a drunk Dragon.¡±


    Fialla laughed. ¡°My family said the same thing. Well, I have no plans to rampage across the Terrace, starting fights and blowing fire.¡±


    ¡°Like Atta¡¯s father?¡± Sheilah asked. The man had gone on a drunken rampage like that several times in the past, before Davian had brought him into line.


    ¡°Just so.¡± Fialla replied, taking a small swallow and passing the skin to Sheilah.


    Sheilah took another small drink and wordlessly passed the skin back to her friend as night descended on the Redstone.


    ¡°Father wants me to think about taking a husband.¡± Fialla muttered.


    ¡°Already?¡± Sheilah asked. ¡°You just got back from the-¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°It makes sense. I have a lot of brothers and sisters, Sheilah. They need the room.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°You could barter a tent, supplies.¡± She offered.


    Fialla shrugged. ¡°I meant what I said in the Ashlands. I¡¯ll marry whoever you choose to.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter who?¡± Sheilah chided.


    ¡°Just as long as it¡¯s not from Atta¡¯s family, please.¡± Fialla begged, and they shared a laugh.


    ¡°Okay, then- I guess we get a tent and things.¡± Sheilah offered. ¡°We don¡¯t do bride-stealing anymore, after all.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°That could work.¡± She took a drink and passed the skin to Sheilah. ¡°I¡¯m heading in. I¡¯ve got an early start tomorrow. It¡¯s my turn at the farm.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, and after she¡¯d shouldered the wine, she climbed down from their perch.


    ¡°Ah!¡± Fialla called, and trotted back. ¡°I¡¯ll have my favor from you now.¡± She demanded.


    Sheilah nodded immediately. She owed Fialla that much, and more.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re busy crafting your own weapon, but I¡¯d like you to help me with mine.¡± She urged. ¡°It¡¯s hard; I don¡¯t have the strength-¡± She began, and then sighed. ¡°Help. Please.¡± She pleaded.


    Sheilah waved her hand. ¡°My father seems to have decided for himself what my weapon is to be, and he won¡¯t let me do it myself. I¡¯ll happily help.¡± she replied. ¡°I need to learn to do it myself, so I can do it for my own children.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Even better.¡±


    Dragon teeth were harder than stone, stronger than metal, and while they were difficult to be worked, they could be worked, though it took the efforts of many people and plenty of tools.


    To work a dragontooth required strength, skill, and those specialized tools, some of which involved dragon metal, the only thing strong enough to resist the strength of a tooth from the ferocious Totem.


    The outside of the tooth needed to be prepared; notches needed to be ground carefully into the root, and then the outer edges were flaked away with chisels.


    The pieces that flaked away, if they were large enough and removed skillfully enough, could be ground into knives for common use.


    After the chisels came grinding, a laborious process that took days to turn a thick, somewhat bulbous tooth into a long, curved blade.


    After all of that came the final grinding and polishing, something that Sheilah and Fialla did in turns.


    Before all this of course, Fialla spent days with her tooth, wrapped in the power of the Dragon, the tooth cradled to her chest while she sang and recited the stories of her ancestors, going all the way back to the beginning of her line and ending with her own stories of her hunts, her skills in the melee, and her fight with her dragon. She exulted in the histories of her family, She gave thanks to her ancestors and her family; she praised and thanked the Tyrant for the dragon she had hunted, and she honored and thanked the dragon for the gifts she¡¯d been given, the least of which was the hide and tooth she¡¯d been given.


    She¡¯d do it again after the weapon had been finished, as she carved her personal sigil into the tooth itself.


    Sheilah had done the same, though hers had been particularly taxing, since her family wasn¡¯t able to approach the tent they¡¯d given her for the purpose; the dread and terrifying aura of Supremacy radiating out thickly.


    It wasn¡¯t just Supremacy that made it difficult, but also because she was directly descended from the First Blood. Her stories were longer, her praises took longer.


    It was easier the closer she came to her own family, from her great-great-grandfather Adlan and his wife, to her great-grandfather Lonato and his wife, to her father Davian, and finally, to herself.

 Chapter 33

    When she returned to her parents¡¯ tent, she discovered her father was drunk. He slurred, he rambled, he spoke in a language nobody could understand.


    When he spotted Sheilah, he fixed her with a drunken, baleful eye.


    ¡°Siddown. This¡®s ¡®mportant.¡± he grumbled.


    He started to lean, but Ladria gently propped him upright.


    Sheilah sat across from him and briefly considered the wineskin, but seeing how drunk her father already was, she elected not to offer him any.


    ¡°I could do it, you know.¡± He confided with all the deadly seriousness of the catastrophically inebriated, pointing at Sheilah. ¡°I could gather them allll up, and we¡¯d have a great time of it.¡±


    She gave him an uncertain look. ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°War.¡± He stated emphatically.


    ¡°War?¡± Sheilah asked, tasting the word. The Redlands hadn¡¯t had a war since they¡¯d driven Stormheim out.


    He nodded. ¡°Say the word, Sheilah, and I¡¯ll rally the clans. We¡¯ll march to Stormheim and burn it to the ground. Fuck ¡®em.¡± he made a strange gesture with his hand, all his fingers curled except his middle finger.


    Her confusion grew at this deadly proclamation. ¡°Why?¡± She asked, and Ladria and Mayrim both looked away from her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± He asked, puzzled. ¡°Oh, right. That.¡± He took a long breath and let it out. ¡°I never liked ¡®em. Couldn¡¯t stand ¡®em. So why not? We got enough warriors. March out there and kill the lot of ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°Father, I don¡¯t understand.¡± She begged. ¡°Why war? Why now?¡±


    He balled up his fists. ¡°Because I don¡¯t have any time left!¡± He argued. ¡°There¡¯s still so much that I need-¡± He interrupted himself. ¡°Great Mother Tyrant, get the bucket-¡± he suddenly swore, and dove for the bucket, where he proceeded to vomit the contents of his stomach.


    ¡°Mothers, what¡¯s going on? Why is he-¡± She tried to ask, but Ladria shook her head.


    ¡°I think it¡¯d be best if you asked him after he¡¯s had a good night¡¯s sleep.¡± she offered in a wry voice. ¡°I think this is probably the third time I¡¯ve seen him drunk like this, and every time, he¡¯s lived to regret it.¡±


    Mayrin let out one of her short, testy sighs. ¡°Your father has been under a lot of pressure lately. He¡¯s been putting off-¡± Ladria touched her arm, and the two exchanged looks laden with meaning. Mayrin let out another short sigh. ¡°-something he should have done a long time ago.¡± Her voice was cool, crisp, and neutral, though she stroked Davian¡¯s back fondly as he groaned and vomited.


    ¡°His procrastination has led to this.¡± She finished, as Davian sat up.


    Ladria handed him a towel; he wiped his face even as Mayrin handed him a small wooden cup of water.


    ¡°So? Davian of the First Blood has asked you a question, Sheilah: Should the Clans of the Redstone go to war with Stormheim for you?¡±


    Sheilah gave them a bewildered look. ¡°This is stupid. This doesn¡¯t make sense at all.¡± She moved to push herself to her feet, but Ladria waved her down.


    ¡°As a Dragon, as a-¡± She cut herself off and it was obvious she was changing what she was planning on saying, ¡°-as an adult, you¡¯ll have to face the need to make decisions like this. Your father is the most stubborn and levelheaded man I have ever met, and yet even he¡¯s moved to make ... decisions based on passion and emotion.¡±


    Davian moved to say something, but Ladria pushed the towel into his face and held it there. She looked to Sheilah.


    ¡°Think carefully, Sheilah: The most powerful man in the Redstone is offering to rally all the clans to go to war against our mortal enemy, Stormheim. All he needs is your word.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°If this is some test, then-¡±


    Ladria frowned. ¡°This isn¡¯t a test, Sheilah. We¡¯ve been talking about this for some time.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head, her chest was boiling with emotion. ¡°Since when?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Since always.¡± Mayrin replied, as if it were self-evident. ¡°Since before the Clans drove out Stormheim. There¡¯s always been the opinion that we should leave the Redstone to crush them. We are not safe if we just keep pushing them back.¡±


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t I heard of this?¡± Sheilah asked, her heart pounding.


    Mayrin gave her a look of condescension. ¡°Because you were a child. It¡¯s an adult¡¯s responsibility to think of such things.¡±


    Sheilah rolled her eyes, but it made sense.


    ¡°So why now?¡± She asked. ¡°This is very sudden.¡±


    Ladria gave her a baffled look. ¡°We¡¯ve been talking about it seriously since Caidi¡¯s death, Sheilah.¡±


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    Davian gave her a steady look, and although he had developed a lean, and it was obvious he was still drunk, his eyes were clear.


    ¡°Pacification.¡± He offered. ¡°I should have thought of it, I should have realized it, but it just never came to mind until you gave me the last puzzle piece.¡±


    ¡°Sheilah gave him a confused look. ¡°What piece?¡±


    ¡°Gnolls can live practically anywhere, but they¡¯re from a land to the south of the Westlands. Growing up, I always thought that the Gnolls were always here, but-¡± He paused, and drank some water. ¡°Stormheim uses them, Sheilah. They can live anywhere. They breed in large numbers. They can eat anything- even each other.¡± He paused. ¡°You told me- You mentioned that they were up at the Keep. I went up there, you know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s forbidden.¡± Sheilah immediately accused, and he grinned.


    ¡°That place was still burning. I don¡¯t know what you did, but-¡±


    Sheilah winced as a spike of pain lanced through her temple at the thought of the Keep. She wasn¡¯t sure what she did, but-


    ¡°-you were right. The gnolls main nest was there. The alphas were there. They were smart. The alphas could even use magic. They¡¯d hunted and eaten the Totem animals for sport.¡± His voice was aghast and disgusted, but there was also disappointment in there, too. He stopped and stared at his hands in his lap.


    ¡°I should have known. I was there, as a slave, when the Prince was being told how they were used. I should have put it together then, but I didn¡¯t. I only remembered when I was up at the Keep after you told me.¡±


    He let out a long, shaky breath. ¡°Stormheim never really left. We¡¯ve never really been free of their torment.¡± He looked up at Sheilah. ¡°Stormheim killed Caidi, Sheilah. It wasn¡¯t you, it wasn¡¯t any mistake you made, it was Stormheim and I should have known it from the beginning.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s hands curled in her lap, nails digging into her palms at that.


    ¡°If-¡± She began, but he overrode her.


    ¡°There¡¯s another consideration, separate from the gnolls, but no less important. But the question remains: Sheilah, should we go to war with Stormheim?¡±


    The dragon in her breast surged up, hot and fierce and demanding release. She did want vengeance, she did want judgement, she did want to vent her spleen on the world. She wanted everything wreathed in fire and ash, she wanted-


    Ladria collapsed with a gasping cry, arm outstretched towards Sheilah, Davian and Mayrin were huddled together, whimpering


    ¡°Shit-¡± Sheilah swore, forcing the Dragon down and back, stuffed in the corner of her mind.


    Her parents lay where they fell, gasping and choking.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry-¡± She gasped, tears springing to her eyes.


    It took several minutes for them to pull themselves back together, but after they sat back up, arranging themselves as they had before, Davian cracked, ¡°Well, if there was ever a cure for drunkenness-¡± but Ladria fisted him in the ribs.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Sheilah repeated. Davian shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s going to take time to master the Dragon.¡± He paused. ¡°Normally it¡¯s not this intense, but you still have to control it; release it when you want.¡±


    Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°Back to what we were talking about earlier: Sheilah, should we go to war with Stormheim?¡± He asked seriously, thumbing blood from his split lip. ¡°Say the word and we go.¡±


    ¡°Why me?¡± She asked. He compressed his lips together, and looked down and then away.


    ¡°What¡¯s the other condition?¡± She asked.


    He looked at Ladria, who nodded, and then looked to Mayrin, who gave him a somewhat helpless shrug and a nod.


    ¡°Do you-¡± He paused, and then looked to Mayrin. ¡°Go and find Kellia and Sellia. Tell them to eat with Rollan¡¯s family.¡±


    Her mouth twisted, but he gestured. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t start without you.¡± He replied to her unspoken request. She nodded and left the tent.


    ¡°We¡¯ll put this conversation on hold until Mayrin comes back.¡± He announced, and then struggled to push himself to his feet. ¡°I¡¯ll make tea.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be up all night, beloved.¡± Ladria warned.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be up all night anyway.¡± He replied, his voice heavy.


    Sheilah sat and went inside her head. War with Stormheim?


    She¡¯d been raised in the shadow of fear from Stormheim. Stormheim could raid, enslave, slaughter and kill them at any time. Stormheim could march in at any moment, and it was only their vigilance that kept them safe.


    But to leave the Redstone? It was a desolate, deadly place, but the Redstone was a reflection of the Clans: pitiless and deadly to outsiders. It was all that and more, but overall, it was home. The world outside of the Redstone might be completely different, but that was for others, other peoples. The Clans only needed the Redstone.


    The Clans had protected their home for generations, all the way back to the First Blood, the primordial ancestor that had marched into the Ashlands and slain his first dragon. As far as she knew, they had never left the Redstone to march to war.


    War was an unfamiliar concept. From time to time there was fighting between the Clans- it was unavoidable- but as far as she knew, there had never been outright war.


    ¡°What is a war?¡± She asked to herself.


    ¡°Well, it depends.¡± Ladria interjected before Davian could say anything. ¡°Nation against nation, army against army. Some say that if you kill a tenth of an enemy- one out of every ten people- then you have won. Others say that you have to kill two out of every three people to claim victory in a war.¡±


    One out of every ten people? Sheilah¡¯s tribe was a little more than twenty- so only two people dead? That wouldn¡¯t be enough to deter her tribe. Two out of every three people? Her mind reeled at the idea. Only one of her parents alive. Only one of her siblings.


    And they would have to do this thing to Stormheim, an unknowable enemy, with uncountable forces and untold defenses.


    ¡°Could we do it?¡± She asked in a whisper.


    Davian gave her a considering look. ¡°We could. The way we fight is incompatible with how Stormheim fights. We could easily do it in a matter of days.¡± He paused, ¡°Well, it would take a long time to get to their city, but once we began, it wouldn¡¯t take long at all to kill them.¡±


    Kill.


    Sheilah had never killed another person before. Could she do it?

 Chapter 34

    Stormheim had robbed the Clans of many things during their occupation. Their lives, their freedoms- had even tried to take away their traditions. They¡¯d seeded the Redstone with Gnolls to keep them busy, had sold them into slavery, had even tried to strip away their faith in their Totems.


    All of the Clans... against Stormheim. A premeditated strike against their city. Sheilah suddenly realized she was famished, the earlier release of Supremacy leaving her ravenous.


    She moved to get up, but Ladria was already putting leftovers from their earlier meal in front of her. She dug in with a will, thinking as she ate.


    Mayrin returned, and eyed the three of them carefully, but seated herself next to Ladria, who rubbed her shoulder affectionately.


    ¡°Do you still have the steel dagger I gave you?¡± Davian asked after drinking the last of his tea.


    Sheilah nodded, and rose to fetch it.


    After she had retrieved it from her belongings, he held out his hand and she obligingly passed it over. He eyed the dagger, bounced it on his palm, slid the stiletto out of its sheath, tapped his finger against the point, and resheathed it.


    ¡°Honestly, this isn¡¯t a conversation I ever wanted to have.¡± he began morosely, and slumped his shoulders. ¡°I mean, I knew I had to have it with you, I had to tell you, but I always felt, in my heart, that I never wanted to have it. It¡¯s stupid, it¡¯s selfish of me, but I couldn¡¯t help it.¡±


    It was strange to see her father acting this way. He seemed more... human. He was always tight-lipped about everything, always stoic and distant.


    He twirled the dagger on his hand. He set it to spin, rolled it through his fingers, set it to spin again, back and forth, over and over again.


    ¡°I was a slave. You¡¯ve probably heard the story from others. I don¡¯t like talking about it. My house was not a happy one. I loved my great-grandfather, who would tell me great stories of his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather. A line unbroken back to the First Dragon.¡± He spoke in terse sentences, a frown etched in his face.


    ¡°My father...¡± He sighed. ¡°Stormheim had come to the Redstone. My father was the scorn of every other man in the Clan. Instead of following ritual and tradition, he became a blacksmith for the men of Stormheim when I was born. My grandfather Lonato and great-grandfather Adlan tried to raise me in the way of the Clan. My father wanted me to join Stormheim. There were a great many fights in that home. I ran away to the Ashlands to kill a dragon. Stupidly, I thought that then my father would see- he would understand-¡± He broke off.


    ¡°When I came back, he told me that I was no longer part of his household. He sold me to them, to Stormheim.¡± he drew a shaky breath, held it, released it.


    ¡°I was taken and tested. I had no aptitude for magic. For those of the Clan, magic is poison. Our Totem refuses to allow any other power except itself to dwell within us. However, I could fight, and I could read and write. So I became a slave to the prince of Stormheim.¡± It looked like he wanted to say more, but held himself back.


    ¡°The prince was sent to a school run by the High Elves. A place of learning. That school had different ... types of learning. There were human teachers and there were High Elf teachers. The High Elf teachers always believed that humans couldn¡¯t figure out what they were teaching, but I figured it out for myself. It was all math and sciences and the like. A bit more complicated than the human courses, but nothing a human couldn¡¯t learn with a little diligence. Elven arrogance coupled with human stupidity is a dangerous thing. It robs you of your power." He warned.


    He continued, ¡°While the Stormheim prince struggled with his human studies, I was teaching myself their elven letters and numbers while my prince could barely understand the human course.¡± he shook his head.


    ¡°Your- that is to say, Ladria was a slave to some High Elf Princess. My prince got sick, her princess became indifferent, we met, fell in love, and I burned the face off the High Elf princess¡¯ skull, which kicked off the Wild Elf uprising.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Sheilah asked.


    Davian snorted. ¡°Well, there¡¯s a bit more to it than that, but I¡¯m summarizing.¡± He replied with a wry smile.


    ¡°There were more Wild Elves than there were High Elves and Dark Elves. They won through numbers. We took a number of ships and sailed to Westland, a land far to the west. We took the ships because I¡¯d killed the prince and stole his symbols that allowed him to command ships.¡±


    ¡°We were free.¡± He paused and drank a little soup. ¡°I promised Ladria the truth. The Redstone Valley was a hard land, but they could live in it with me. Sheltered, protected, welcomed, safe... free. The only caveat- the only rule- was that they had to work just as hard as we did to survive.¡±


    ¡°To get from Westland to the Redstone, we had to cross Westland, cross the central Stormheim lands, then through Thorheim forest, and finally, come through our southern passes.¡± He looked down at his hands. ¡°I snuck into Stormheim, dragged the king out of bed, and we had a conversation.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°The stories say I dueled him.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Stormheim was like us, once. A collection of Clans and Tribes of men. Eventually, they gave up their rituals and traditions and came together as one people, the Stormheim people. They built Stormheim, houses and buildings and churches and armies and ...¡± he shrugged.


    ¡°Eventually, the people of the Redstone will figure out how to do the same.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that one bit.¡± Sheilah spat hotly. ¡°We aren¡¯t at all like Stormheim.¡±


    Davian looked up at the tent ceiling while her mothers avoided looking at her altogether.


    ¡°It¡¯d be hilarious if-¡± he shook his head.


    ¡°Eventually, all the old grudges will be set aside. All the little politicking and honor codes and rites and things will disappear. Maybe there will be a pandemic and a clan will be lost. The remnants will be absorbed into another clan. Another clan will grow tired of being under the thumb of another clan, and they¡¯ll ally with another clan. Over and over and over again, until there¡¯s only one clan, the Redstone Clan. They will build cities and forget the totems.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Hopefully I will be long dead when that happens.¡±


    Ladria rubbed his back kindly at that.


    ¡°The Thunderbirds don¡¯t like having to acknowledge the Dragons. The Mountain Cats hate the Timberwolves. On and on and on.¡± he let out a long sigh.


    ¡°I told the king that sooner or later, we will be like them. It may take decades, it may take centuries, but eventually, we will be like them. But we¡¯re not ready yet. We need time to put aside our differences. We need time to struggle amongst ourselves. I asked for time. I asked for them to leave, and I asked for time. Time for us to decide who will lead that Redstone Clan. Time for us to build our own cities, create our own laws, build our own roads.¡±


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    ¡°Since I quite literally had his life in my hands, he was more than happy to agree to leave the Redstone, and to give us the time we needed. To seal the deal... he gave me the fourth princess of the Stormheim; newly born as a hostage. She¡¯d be raised ... for fourteen years, in the Valley.¡±


    He paused. ¡°Eventually, as per the agreement the men of Stormheim will come for her and she will leave the Redstone and return to Stormheim. When a princess or a noble turns sixteen, they have what¡¯s known as a ¡°social debut¡±. She¡¯s announced to the people of Stormheim, and she can choose a husband, or ... do whatever.¡± he added, flapping his hand to show his complete lack of interest.


    ¡°Her mother, the Queen of Stormheim, gave her daughter this knife.¡± he flipped it up, and pointed the handle at her. ¡°Since you have no ancestors here in the Redstone, I thought it best that you take it with you into the Ashlands to represent your family.¡±


    He let the knife drop from his fingers when she refused to take it. ¡°In about six months or so you¡¯ll be escorted back home to Stormheim, where you will be taught how to act like a lady of Stormheim.¡±


    Sheilah was stunned, shocked, numb beyond all measure. She couldn¡¯t stop shaking.


    ¡°I knew that Ladria and Mayrin weren¡¯t my mothers.¡± she tried to find her words, ¡°but I¡¯m not your daughter?¡±


    His face went through a number of expressions. ¡°I raised you as my daughter... I cared for you as if you were my daughter. I treated you as my daughter. I was as hard on you as I was Sellia and Kellia. I was as kind to you as I was my daughters.¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯ve even thought of you as my daughter.¡± He gave her a sort of bleak half-smile; ¡°I even thought of going to war with Stormheim so that I could keep you here as my daughter.¡± He wiped his eyes. ¡°That was when Caidi died. I ... couldn¡¯t countenance the thought of losing another child.¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯m still willing to do it. As far as I¡¯m concerned, you are my daughter, and I¡¯ll kill anyone that says different.¡±


    ¡°...does anyone else know?¡± She whispered.


    ¡°Only the people in this room.¡± He replied. ¡°I¡¯d like to keep it that way.¡±


    Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was struggling to hold back a scream. The room washed in and out in shades of gray. She felt like sicking up.


    ¡°...and when I leave?¡± She whispered again. She was struggling to hold back her tears.


    ¡°You¡¯ve completed your trial. You¡¯re an adult now. You¡¯re expected to do what everyone else in the Redstone does, but there¡¯s no explicit rule that says you can¡¯t just... leave.¡± He hesitated. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to leave. You... you can stay here. With us.¡±


    Her fingers were wet; she looked down and saw blood running down her legs from digging her nails into them.


    ¡°I¡¯m... I- I don¡¯t belong here?¡± She gasped, hot tears splattering down her face.


    ¡°You absolutely belong here.¡± Davian objected. ¡°You¡¯ve always belonged here.¡±


    She pushed herself to her feet and struggled into her dragonling armor, stuffing her dragonling knife in her waist, shouldering her bow and quiver.


    She stepped out into the evening of the Dragon Terrace.


    The Redstone was cold and quiet as night deepened. The Redstone captured and amplified the heat of the day; at night it cooled quickly to nearly freezing. The high walls of the Redstone brought night quickly and deeply to those that sheltered in its shadows.


    The People of the Dragon Clan couldn¡¯t fly, but they could run, and they had the stamina to keep running for a very long time. Sheilah had the heart and blood of a Tyrant Dragon, so when she ran, she ran quickly, and did not feel the need to stop until human exhaustion cut her down in her tracks.


    Her legs stuttered, tangled together, and she fell, just barely bringing her arms up in time to shield her face. Still, she could feel one of the bones in her arm break on impact.


    Her head was next, she tried to roll like she was taught, but as she spun up into the air her shoulder dislocated, and her whole body slapped down on the cold rock flooring of the Redstone.


    Sheilah rolled over onto her back with a groan. One arm was broken, the other dislocated. Still, the Tyrant wouldn¡¯t let something as trivial as a broken arm stop it from popping the other arm back in its socket. She took a few breaths as she tried to calm down.


    Putting a shoulder back into place by yourself wasn¡¯t hard to do, but the key points were to be relaxed and calm, both of which were beyond her. She laid back down on the cold ground and cried, cried until her face felt stiff with dried tears. After the tears stopped, she screamed, howling out her hurt and betrayal into the uncaring, pitiless Redstone.


    Eventually she fell asleep.


    When she woke up, her legs were cramped bars of metal, every muscle clenched so tight it was pure agony.


    The pain made her hazy and dizzy; she pounded the knotted muscles in her thigh with a fist, demanding that they un-knot and behave like leg muscles. Eventually, begrudgingly, they seemed to uncramp, little by little. Once that was done, she went to do the same with her other arm and remembered it was dislocated.


    She took a deep breath, carefully raised the arm over her head, and then reached down and touched the nape of her neck. Her bones seemed to strain at this, her muscles weak and rubbery, and her hand wouldn¡¯t stop trembling. Slowly she moved her hand towards her opposite shoulder, and with a sickening feeling that was more felt than heard, her shoulder slid back into place.


    She lay back on the ground, taking little puppy breaths as the pain disappeared. She was so focused on getting her shoulder back into place that she didn¡¯t notice that her other leg had released its cramps on its own.


    She eyed her arm, which was mottled with bruises along the break. ¡°Some Tyrant you are. Can¡¯t even fix a broken arm overnight.¡± She complained bitterly. ¡°Even I was able to put my shoulder back together before I even killed a dragon. You¡¯d think having a Tyrant roaming around in your body isn¡¯t enough to heal your fucking arm.¡± She spat, berating herself.


    Wait, where was she?


    Further, where was her bow? Her quiver?


    She started looking around herself and realized she hadn¡¯t just taken a spill. The ground was covered in shreds and bits of her dragonhide coat. Apparently she¡¯d hit the ground and slid, shredding it.


    She stumbled as she walked; her legs had apparently put her on probation as she followed her backtrail. Her bow had fallen by the wayside, her arrows were strewn all over the place. She counted them as she tucked them into her quiver. She¡¯d gone into the Ashlands with thirty arrows, arrowshafts made from dragonling bone, arrowheads made from filed dragonling teeth. She¡¯d come back with seventeen.


    She looked around herself. This looked like... she couldn¡¯t tell what part of the Redstone she was in. It definitely wasn¡¯t Dragon territory.


    It didn¡¯t matter.


    She turned north and began walking.


    Her neck itched; she reached back to scratch it and something dry and flaying came away with her hand. She stared at the powdery red stuff in her hand for a while before she realized it was dried blood. She probed her head and realized in a disinterested sort of way that the reason for her skull-splitting headache was because she¡¯d split her scalp at some point.


    It didn¡¯t matter.


    As she walked, it seemed at times someone was walking with her, sometimes a little ahead, sometimes a little behind. Whoever it was had a longer stride than her, was taller than her. She caught glimpses of him from time to time. His clothes were worn, but well-mended with care. His dragon-skin armor was well-broken in and hung from him comfortably. There was no way she could have made armor from a Tyrant¡¯s hide. It was entirely too thick to work into any sort of wearable goods.


    It didn¡¯t matter.


    At some point she thought she might¡¯ve fallen asleep somehow and kept walking. It didn¡¯t make sense, so she let it go. It didn¡¯t matter.


    A weathered hand, knotted with age but still possessing the strength of the Dragon reached past her, and touched a massive part of the Redstone that she was about to walk right into. She jolted abruptly as the man stepped around her- through her? - and began climbing.


    Dragons liked high places. Everyone in the Redstone knew this. The Dragons knew this. Part of it was the dragon nature, both in the need to be as high up as possible and also to look down those that were beneath them. Part of it was cultural; the Dragons held the highest parts of the Redstone Canyons... with the exception of the Thunderbirds, who lived above the Redstone valley.


    Sheilah blinked. The man- if there even was a man- was nowhere to be seen. She touched the Redstone, though, and it felt strangely cool to the touch. She rested her face against it briefly; her head was still hot, painful and it was difficult to concentrate. The cool of the stone seemed to help.


    What was she doing here? Did it matter?


    It mattered. She reached up, searching for fingerholds, pulling herself up, digging her dragon-hardened nails into the stone as she reached for another handhold.


    This. This mattered.

 Chapter 35

    Most places were easy to climb in the Redstone, if you knew the trick. Some stone had horizontal handholds, some had vertical, some were simply irregularly textured; those you could simply spider up to the top with very little effort.


    This stone, however, was different. It resisted handholds, it was nearly completely smooth. Sheilah had to embrace it as wide as her arms could go, digging with her feet, fingers aching and tense.


    She¡¯d lost track of time again. How long had she been climbing? Hours? Minutes?


    Davian wasn¡¯t her father. She had no family in the Redstone. She was alone. Her mothers were strangers, her sisters were strangers.


    Worse, she was the dreaded enemy. Stormheim. No one from there was allowed into the Redstone lands.


    She was as alone as alone could possibly be.


    ¡°What makes someone ¡®belong¡¯ to the Redstone?¡± A voice asked her.


    She jolted, cursed as she nearly lost her grip.


    She didn¡¯t dare turn her head in search of the owner of the voice. Turning her head would push her away from the wall just the tiniest of bits, sure, but she was only hanging on by the tiniest of bits.


    ¡°Blood.¡± She replied.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve lost a lot of it. Does that mean you belong here?¡± the owner of the voice asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t belong anywhere.¡±


    She squirmed up a bit, leveraging her foot against the stone. If she could dig in just a little bit further, she¡¯d have the leverage to push herself up a bit more.


    ¡°You¡¯re making this harder than it has to be, you know.¡± The voice observed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t belong here!¡± She yelled.


    ¡°Who said that?¡± The voice asked.


    ¡°Everyone.¡± She replied.


    ¡°Everyone.¡± The voice repeated.


    ¡°Everyone has a family here. Everyone has a history here. Now I know why my ancestors didn¡¯t look at me so long ago, back when Caidi died.¡± She sobbed. ¡°They didn¡¯t see me because I didn¡¯t belong here!¡±


    ¡°Your ancestors didn¡¯t look at you because they weren¡¯t there for you. They were there for her.¡± The voice replied.


    ¡°Eh?¡± The surprise nearly made her lose her grip.


    ¡°The Wild Elves- do they belong here?¡± he asked her.


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    ¡°They have no blood kin here.¡± The man¡¯s voice replied easily. ¡°And yet they were accepted, welcomed, and embraced. They accepted the Totems, they made the contract.¡±


    She was quiet.


    ¡°If you move your fingers just a bit on the left hand side, you should have a better grip.¡± He encouraged.


    She took a small breath and moved her hand, a grip appeared, as if by magic, under her hand.


    ¡°Which Totem do you belong to?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡¯ She complained, and he laughed, but said nothing.


    ¡°...the dragon.¡± She finally replied.


    ¡°Lift your right foot a bit, Dragon.¡±


    She dragged her right foot up, and again, there was a foothold for her. She pushed herself up.


    ¡°Who is your father?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She replied sullenly.


    ¡°You belong to the Clan of the Dragon, but you don¡¯t know who your father is?¡± he asked curiously.


    It tore at her heart. ¡°The King of Stormheim.¡± She replied.


    He snorted. ¡°Did he teach you how to hunt the Dragon?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Who taught you to hunt the dragon?¡±


    ¡°My fa-¡± she cut herself off. ¡°Davian.¡±


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    ¡°Did he teach you how to climb? You¡¯re doing a poor job of it.¡±


    ¡°Bastard.¡± She spat, and he laughed.


    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting word. A bastard is someone who doesn¡¯t know who his father is.¡± He observed. ¡°Do you know Davian?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do!¡± She complained.


    ¡°Good. There¡¯s a handgrip to your right, you know.¡±


    She shifted her weight and experimentally tried to grab for it.


    It seemed to come into her hand naturally.


    ¡°Did he teach you the songs? Did he tell you the stories of the First Dragon, the first man that traveled into the Burning Wastes and made the first contract?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°He taught you the songs and traditions, taught you how to hunt dragons... How could he be anything but your father?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not his blood.¡± She replied.


    ¡°There¡¯s that ¡®blood¡¯ thing again.¡± he replied.


    Suddenly exhaustion washed over her like a wave. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I think I¡¯m going to fall.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to fall unless you want to.¡± He replied condescendingly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I have a choice.¡± She replied fatalistically.


    He laughed again. ¡°The climb is as easy or as hard as you want it to be. If that¡¯s true, then whether or not you want to fall is also up to you.¡±


    She said nothing, but the exhaustion burned in her limbs.


    ¡°If you have the blood of the Dragon in your veins, you should be able to climb up here.¡± He suggested. ¡°It¡¯s not that hard. Embrace the blood within you. Embrace the love you¡¯ve been given. Embrace the home you were given. Embrace the kindnesses and instruction you were given.¡± He added. ¡°If you¡¯re really a Dragon, you shouldn¡¯t be pressing your face into the rock. A Dragon doesn¡¯t bend or bow to anything.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fall.¡± She growled.


    ¡°We talked about that already. Raise your head, Dragon, and look at me.¡±


    She looked up and suddenly realized she was inches from the top. All she had to do was pull herself up.


    The man himself was simultaneously young and ancient beyond words. His eyes boiled with the fires of the Dragon, unquenchable and unyielding. He smiled at her, and held out his hand to her.


    She shifted her weight, and reached up; his hand, strong and weathered, wrapped around hers and she hauled herself up to the top.


    ¡°Sit down.¡± He encouraged as a blast of wind threatened to force her off the top, which was barely wide enough for the both of them.


    She sat herself down and let out a ragged breath as the icy winds dried the sweat on her body. She felt curiously lightheaded and dizzy.


    ¡°You know... my son, he was a son that would make anyone proud. A bit fond of drinking, but still... a good son.¡± He offered.


    She didn¡¯t say anything. She didn¡¯t really have the right.


    ¡°My grandson...¡± He sighed. ¡°He got lost.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s easy to lose your way, but... he- he somehow managed to stay lost. His head was filled with all sorts of ideas and hopes and dreams, and ... he lost his way. Back then, I was angry with him. ¡°Some things are simple!¡± I wanted to yell at him, but...¡± He shook his head. ¡°Now he can¡¯t hear me.¡±


    He suddenly grinned. ¡°My great-grandson was filled with the Dragon¡¯s fire practically from birth. I taught him all the songs and stories. I taught him everything I could, and...¡± He paused. ¡°Maybe I should have taught him caution.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about Davian.¡± She replied.


    He nodded.


    ¡°If it¡¯s a blood tie that you¡¯re looking for, we¡¯re all connected by the blood of the dragon. If it¡¯s more... well, he taught you everything you ever needed to know about how to live. If it¡¯s more than that... what do you need?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I need him to be my real father. Really real. I¡¯m... supposed to go back to Stormheim. I wasn¡¯t born here. I don¡¯t belong here. I¡¯m alone.¡± She repeated. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to Stormheim.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be here, in the Redstone, to be of the Dragon. Davian traveled to places I can¡¯t even imagine, and even there, so far away, he was still Dragon.¡±


    He rubbed her back. ¡°No matter where you go, you are a Dragon. Breathe your fire and dare anyone to tell you different.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± She replied.


    He raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I killed a Tyrant Dragon.¡± She replied. ¡°I... can¡¯t breathe its fire. I can burn a city to the ground, but...¡± She shrugged.


    He laughed and clapped her on the back, and then held out his hand, counting on his fingers. ¡°Whelpling, Dragonling, Dragon, Great Dragon, Tyrant Dragon. Fantastic. I¡¯d always wondered if there were such things.¡± He eyed her. ¡°It makes you wonder if they come from the Great Tyrant Herself, or if there¡¯s another, larger, greater dragon out there!¡± he exclaimed.


    ¡°For a dead man, you¡¯re certainly excited.¡± She offered, a smile of her own on her face. A wave of dreadful exhaustion washed over her, and everything seemed to fade out, briefly.


    ¡°And yet I came back for you.¡± He replied, looking up at the sky. ¡°I always wanted to fly. They say some of us did, in the past. I wanted to be like that. To swoop down and blast everything with my fire, like a real dragon would.¡± he bumped her shoulder. ¡°My wife kept me grounded, though. All the way up until the day she... she died, she kept my feet firmly on the ground.¡± Tears fell from his face. ¡°Once she was gone, I gave myself up to the sky.¡±


    ¡°...You said that you came for me. That I¡¯d lost blood.¡± She looked at him, then, worry squirming in her heart. ¡°Am I dead?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re close.¡± he admitted.


    She pressed her lips together. At least, she thought she did. She couldn¡¯t feel them anymore.


    ¡°You can choose, you know. You can choose to live, or you can choose to come with me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not family, though.¡± She immediately replied.


    ¡°We talked about that already. You are Davian¡¯s daughter. You are my great-great granddaughter. By right of blood, I can take you with me, if that¡¯s what you really want.¡± he paused. ¡°He asked for me, you know. ¡°Keep her safe. She¡¯s my precious daughter. If not by blood, then by bonds.¡± is what he prayed.¡± he looked at her. ¡°I can help you. I can teach you how to heal yourself. But if... if you think you can¡¯t go on, then you can go to sleep right here and we can join our ancestors.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t use the Tyrant¡¯s power. It¡¯s too strong.¡±


    ¡°You subjugated it, right? You made it yours, right?¡± He asked curiously.


    She nodded.


    ¡°Then it really isn¡¯t the Tyrant¡¯s power anymore, now is it?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯re the Tyrant, now.¡±


    She closed her eyes. The darkness was warm, relaxing, and comforting.


    She made her choice, and the pain that had weighed so heavily on her heart went with a gentle, painless tug.

 Chapter 36

    ¡°I think you should have gone after her.¡± Mayrin prodded Davian. ¡°She¡¯s a strong girl, but all of this had to have come as quite a shock to her.¡± She paused and then added, ¡°I¡¯m sure no one would fault you for it.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the argument you¡¯d use, then I¡¯d say that you should have stopped her from leaving in the first place.¡± Ladria rebutted Mayrin.


    ¡°I should have.¡± Davian replied. ¡°She¡¯s a strong girl though, and the ancestors are watching over her.¡±


    The two elven women glared at Davian. ¡°She has no ancestors to watch over her, Husband.¡± Ladria objected.


    Davian gave the two of them a baffled look. ¡°All this time, and you still don¡¯t understand?¡± He asked simply. ¡°All of us are connected by the blood of the Dragon.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what would my mother think if she learned I¡¯d married a relative~?¡± Ladria bemoaned dramatically.


    ¡°Hush, you.¡± Davian scolded gently. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s not just blood that makes a family. We¡¯ve all struggled together. Shared food together. Mourned together.¡±


    Mayrin gave him a look of skepticism. ¡°From an elven perspective, you weren¡¯t mourning with her at Caidi¡¯s death.¡± She accused. ¡°She wandered the wastes for months because of it.¡±


    ¡°Not because I didn¡¯t want to, you know.¡± Davian rebutted, a touch of exasperation and petulance, of all things, in his voice.


    His two wives nodded at that.


    ¡°Still, do you think she¡¯ll choose to go to war with Stormheim?¡± Ladria asked.


    Davian sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a tough choice to make. The Clans haven¡¯t ever marched to war like how I proposed. We defend ourselves and our home, but to leave the Redstone?¡± He shook his head. ¡°An impossible task, but I¡¯d accomplish the impossible to keep her with us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not our way, you know.¡± Ladria replied. ¡°No one would approve of the idea of dying so far from our ancestral grounds.¡±


    ¡°Calling for war would have been more realistic twenty years ago. Or when I returned. Even if we remember, our blood has cooled. Stormheim hasn¡¯t sent any retributive force against us.¡± He agreed. ¡°It wouldn''t take the whole of the Redstone, either. Maybe fifty people could take that castle.¡±


    Ladria looked thoughtful. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of assassinations and sabotage, then.¡± She decided. He nodded.


    ¡°In a stand-up fight we wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. We¡¯re not like that, we¡¯re not equipped for that. We¡¯re hunters. Predators, really. We don¡¯t have soldiers, not in the conventional sense.¡±


    His wives nodded at that.


    ¡°An assassination of the royal family might not be enough to dissuade them.¡± Mayrin advised. ¡°After all, they would eventually realize that the last surviving blood of the royal family is here. It would make sense to rally their armies to retake their princess.¡±


    Davian nodded. ¡°I thought of that. We¡¯d also take out the heads of state, their generals, soldiers of rank. Poison their wells and food stores. That would set them back at least forty or fifty years. Long enough for Sheilah to find her place as an adult, take a husband, have children, send them to the Ashen Lands.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not a terrible idea. Horribly optimistic, but not a terrible idea.¡±


    ¡°And the High Elves?¡± Ladria prompted. ¡°They¡¯re allies of the humans. It wouldn¡¯t take them long to muster their forces at all.¡± She clamped her lips tight for a moment. ¡°We¡¯d find ourselves victim of the Dark Elves'' depredations once again. I don¡¯t want my children, or their children¡¯s children to grow up in that fear.¡±


    Davian gave her a puzzled look. ¡°The Dark Elves are odious, sure, but-¡±


    Ladria shook her head. ¡°You never learned what sort of monsters they are, Husband. How they treated ... my people.¡± Mayrin nodded at that.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never told me.¡± Davian accused.


    Mayrin spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s enough for you to understand that the Redstone Valley is a solace for the Wild Elves. Even if there¡¯s an entire ocean between us and them, there are enough of us who remember the nightmare and stay awake at night, wondering when they¡¯ll show up and take everything from us again.¡±


    She shuddered, and Ladria slipped a comforting arm around her former handmaiden¡¯s shoulders and pulled her close.


    Davin pulled his wives close for a moment, offering his own comfort briefly. He silently sent a prayer for his ancestors and the Great Tyrant Mother to watch over Sheilah while he also wondered at the fear the Dark Elves invoked in his wives, even after all this time.


    *****


    When Sheilah awoke atop Adlan¡¯s Spire, she understood that there was too much to take in all at once, so she simply decided to accept it all and figure it all out later.


    Adlan was right; his spire was easy to climb; she had been making it difficult for herself by intentionally ignoring the obvious hand-and footholds that were everywhere.


    Anyone could have climbed it. A child of four could do it. She¡¯d somehow ignored every hand and foothold.


    Her father was Davian, her mothers were Ladria and Mayrin. She had two little sisters that were nearing their time to head into the wastes.


    Her power was easier to manage, now. She had to understand what it meant before she could use it, and she hadn¡¯t been doing that before. She understood it and accepted it.


    She was different, now. She was no longer the woman she¡¯d been when she¡¯d left her father¡¯s tent. She understood and accepted that as well.


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    Things had changed. She had changed.


    Acceptance was an ambiguous, malleable concept that could be put into any shape, but for Sheilah, ¡°acceptance¡± meant ¡°change¡±.


    She accepted her life in the Redstone; she changed from whatever it was she was supposed to be in Stormheim into a member of the Dragon Clan. She¡¯d taken in the blood and flesh of a Tyrant Dragon; she¡¯d accepted the pact between herself and her Totem.


    She accepted, she changed.


    She¡¯d eaten whelplings, dragonlings, a dragon, and a tyrant dragon. She¡¯d accepted that power. Was she even considered human anymore?


    Did it even matter? She was of the Dragon Clan, and that was enough.


    She had some choices to make. She could ask Davian to go to war. He wanted to. He would do it. He had enough of a hatred in his heart for it. But could she see it through? Though she didn¡¯t know her family in Stormheim, could she countenance the idea of her family here hunting down and killing her family there?


    She was also an adult, now- she would likely also have to march in that dread pack.


    She could stay in the Redstone. In that situation, nothing would change except that Stormheim would come to them.


    She could go to Stormheim. Try to become one of them. It didn¡¯t seem possible- there was too much dragon in her, after all- but she could try.


    Choices.


    It surprised her that she was somehow able to run all the way from her tribe¡¯s land all the way through Dragon Clan territory to Adlan¡¯s Rest, far to the north, so quickly.


    It certainly explained her injuries, her cramps, her exhaustion.


    Still, Adlan had explained things to her in a way that was easy to understand and accept, so when she arrived back at her tribe¡¯s land and Davian embraced her, she was able to understand and accept that, as well.


    ¡°I wish that I was Adlan¡¯s daughter rather than yours, father.¡± She complained when he embraced her. ¡°He at least explained things to me much easier than you did.¡±


    ¡°I often wished he was my father, too.¡± He replied simply. ¡°So what sort of choice have you made, daughter?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I-¡± She paused, and switched what she was going to say. ¡°War is a difficult idea, father.¡± She replied. ¡°Getting the other clans to do as you command is hard enough, despite being the Dragon.¡±


    He gave her a curious look. ¡°And what do you know of war, Daughter?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Adlan told me a little.¡± She replied. ¡°And his father, and the father before him.¡± She paused and thought for a bit, considering what she should tell him, what she could tell him. There were things she had been told that she wasn¡¯t certain he should know.


    After a long moment of silence, she looked up at him. ¡°I¡¯ll go to them. See them with my own eyes. I¡¯ll decide if my family should war with them.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of things I think I want to ask.¡± Davian began, but shook his head. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s go take a look at the sword I¡¯ve been crafting for you in secret.¡±


    She gave him a complicated look and for a moment she was shrouded in a veil of menace, but she nodded at him.


    She¡¯d wanted a spear- had said as much- but he¡¯d instead decided on a sword for her. She gave him a frustrated look- she¡¯d told him that she wanted a spear, not a sword- but held her tongue. For the length of a heartbeat the Dragon radiated out from her, but followed after him, part of her listening to the voice in her heart.


    For her dragon-tooth weapon, they made her a sword and a knife, though not in the traditional Dragon Clan fashion. A dragon-tooth sword was usually fashioned much like a machete with a short, thick, curved blade that was designed more for chopping or slicing than it was piercing.


    The sword they¡¯d made for her was unlike anything she¡¯d ever seen before.


    It was straight, as slim as two fingers, twin-edged, with a chiseled tip for thrusting. The blade was much longer and much slimmer than the blades she was used to.


    ¡°Why this design?¡± She asked, as she turned the blade over and over in her hands. It hadn¡¯t yet been hafted in dragonbone.


    ¡°A couple of reasons:¡± He replied. ¡°First, we¡¯ve never gotten teeth this big.¡± Davian explained simply. ¡°A bigger tooth means we can make different types of weapons. I figured something like this would appeal to you.¡± he explained, taking the blade from her and twirling it in his hands. ¡°Besides, a weapon you take out of the Redstone has to have some elegance and refinement to it, lest they think we¡¯re nothing but savages.¡±


    She frowned at that.


    ¡°Will they really think that?¡± She asked.


    He nodded immediately, without hesitation. ¡°Absolutely they will. Everything you do, everything you say will be judged. Everything you don¡¯t do and don¡¯t say will also be judged. It¡¯s just- that¡¯s how they were raised. They live in a city, they are better than the people that do not. They live in a mansion, they are better than those that do not.¡±


    His face twisted. ¡°If you show up with a barbarian¡¯s spear, they will think of you as a barbarian.¡± He explained. ¡°This will be a weapon that you can take pride in, as a Dragon and as a princess of Stormheim.¡±


    ¡°Mansion?¡± She asked, frowning.


    ¡°It¡¯s a really big house.¡± He replied simply. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I know, but... I don¡¯t know much. I never needed to know, and I never cared to know.¡±


    She nodded, and then paused. ¡°All of this- you knew I was going to go?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I guessed. I¡¯ve been watching over you for fourteen years, I¡¯m not so stupid I can¡¯t guess your thinking.¡± he answered. ¡°Still- I would have loved to go to war with Stormheim.¡±


    He adjusted his stance with the blade in one hand and twirled it. ¡°I think it went something like this...¡± He muttered, relying more on his wrist and forearm to move the sword rather than his shoulders.


    ¡°A sword like this is meant more for thrusts and flourishes...¡± He trailed off, ¡°but since it¡¯s made from the tooth of a dragon, you can do so much more than that.¡±  He shifted his stance and made a few quick slashes to demonstrate.


    ¡°What about the blade that was made earlier?¡± She asked curiously.


    ¡°What do you think should be done with it?¡± He asked. ¡°You can entrust it with us, or take it with you. Either choice is correct.¡±


    She looked to him, but he gave her a simple gesture.


    ¡°You can take that blade with you, as a blade of the family. Or, you can leave the blade with us, a gift to the generations that will come after.¡± He gestured again. ¡°Either choice is correct.¡±


    She nodded at that.


    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for advice, I¡¯d suggest that you don¡¯t tell Fialla. If you tell her... and I think you will anyway; you¡¯ve picked up my habit of immediately wanting to defy someone when they say ¡®don¡¯t do this¡¯ or ¡®don¡¯t do that¡¯,¡± he added with an eyeroll,


    ¡°Think of what will happen: In a few months you will go to Stormheim. She will find some way to follow after you. She might think it¡¯s a kidnapping. She might think she needs to save you. She might think she needs to go to war to bring you back. Stormhiem is rightfully afraid of Redstone, and her going to war with them means that they will kill her... and then go to war with us.¡± he paused. ¡°Even if she just leaves, even if she gets permission from her own father... that will be a gap in her own family.¡±


    She nodded, but she had made a vow with Fialla.

 Chapter 37

    There wasn¡¯t any reason for Sheilah¡¯s belief, no way to justify it to herself, but for some reason the sky seemed lower than at the Dragon Terrace, somehow.


    At the Terrace, despite being the highest point in the Redstone, the sky was limitless, stretching out endlessly, and yet impossibly high and unreachable. Maybe it was the dragonblood that sizzled in her veins, but it inspired an intense yearning for something unreachable.


    Somehow, inexplicably, the sky here felt like it was just within reach. Just a little bit out of reach. So close.


    Was it part of the gift that her draconic ancestors had passed on to her? Sheilah wondered.


    A great many things within her had changed since her night with Adlan.


    She herself had changed.


    Her parents had attributed it to the shocking things they¡¯d revealed to her- and to some extent that was true- but the greater changes had come from within.


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± Sheilah muttered to herself as she stared up at the sky that seemed to be just barely out of reach. ¡°But then again, who would?¡± She asked, but internally, she knew Adlan would.


    She wished again that Adlan had been her father; he would have been so much easier to speak with about so many things.


    He understood the Dragon so much better than even Davian. There was so much more to the Dragon than simply Supremacy, Immortality, Calamity, and Indomitability.


    Part of her demanded that she keep an eye on her surroundings as she sat, perched on her boulder, but there was another part of her that simply didn¡¯t need to.


    Sheilah sat on top of a boulder, her bow in her lap, with an arrow nocked and ready to draw, while her dangling feet beat against the stone rhythmically. Her long black hair shifted with the wind, her blue eyes studious. She waited and watched while the ancient runestone loomed behind her.


    When she¡¯d first arrived here after leaving the Redstone, she¡¯d inspected the weathered plinth curiously, picking out the sigils of all the clans she recognized.


    There were a number of sigils that she didn¡¯t know, and she suspected that aside from these markings, they were probably forgotten to time.


    Who were they?


    Which Totem did they give their allegiance to? What songs and stories did they tell amongst themselves as they prepared for their hunts? Who were their heroes?


    She wondered if Davian even knew.


    His speech didn¡¯t do her any favors. How many clans would be lost over the centuries? Who would sing their songs?


    She looked back at her tiny camp, wedged between the boulder she sat on and that ancient, carved spire. It was a meager thing, nothing more than a bedroll, her pack, and the embers of her campfire. Everything else, she wore.


    She turned back to the rich deep forest that marched up to the stone and refocused her attention.


    Eventually she¡¯d spot something that she could eat.


    While she waited, she carved her symbol into the boulder she sat on with her finger, a sign that she at least had been there, that she lived and breathed and sung the songs of her people. How long would it last? Would anyone see it and know it for what it was?


    Anyone from the Dragon Clan would instantly be able to recognize the mark with her fingertip. There was the sigil for the Tyrant, of course. Most people thought of it as the Dragon, but the Dragon Clan knew it for what it was, the sigil of the Tyrant, bold and fearless, glaring down imperiously upon all She saw. Below the Tyrant was the mark of the main bloodline, the First Hero who no longer had a name, the one who had eaten the flesh of the dragons and taught his people to do the same. That was her family mark. Her personal sigil was directly below it; a swirling series of comma-like talon marks in a pattern. Anyone from the Clans would recognize it as being from the Dragon Clan, from the First Bloodline.


    There were places in the Burning Lands that she¡¯d marked with her personal mark. Hopefully they survived the test of time. Maybe someone would see them a century from now and know that someone from the Dragon Clan had been there, just like they were.


    An animal she didn¡¯t recognize, but was close enough to the deer she¡¯d hunted with her father in the Timberwolf Clan stepped out from between the trees. Sheilah went as still as the stone she sat on and watched.


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    It was variegated brown, with glittering antlers and hooves and dark eyes that seemed to see everything.


    She¡¯d tried to take a shot at one before, but she hadn¡¯t even began to nock her arrow before it bolted in weird elongated leaps, shadowy afterimages scattering in other directions. She wouldn¡¯t make that mistake today.


    It stepped away from the tree it had appeared from, moving with delicate, careful steps, ears probing for the slightest noise in every direction as it nibbled at the ground.


    She gently shifted the bow towards the deer, already planning how she would draw and release, replaying the movements in her mind over and over again. This is how she would do it. She willed the animal to move out of cover just a little further so she would get a clean shot.


    Part of hunting was patience. Sometimes you could get a clean kill quickly, without forethought, but sometimes- most times, really- you had to play the waiting game.


    It lifted its head, and for a moment she had a perfect, clean shot. She took it, raising her bow smoothly while drawing the arrow so that the fletching tickled her cheek, then immediately loosing her fearful bolt.


    Her arrow flew so quick it was difficult to track it in flight, punching through the neck of the deer right below its head, tearing it clean off.


    She dropped from the boulder and shouldered her bow as she headed towards her meal, drawing the knife at her waist.


    As she approached the headless deer, still spasming and kicking as if to deny that it was dead, she spotted some mist wrapping some trees nearby. It was much too warm for fog and mist, but she knew what it was, anyway. There were things in the forest that wanted to make a meal of her.


    She plucked her arrow from the dirt, struggling to pull it loose from the rich, dark soil, tucking the arrow back into her quiver, unwound a rope she¡¯d wrapped around her waist, tied it around her prey, picked up its head, and headed back to the sigil stone.


    She dressed her kill quickly at the edge of the forest, trying to be more alert than her prey had been. There were predators of some kind in that fog that drifted through the trees, predators that used it to their advantage, blinding those who wandered into it. She¡¯d seen it happen from her perch.


    She stripped the hide off of the deer, hauled out the guts, and dismantled the carcass in the same way that she¡¯d been taught to handle the goats that had been selected for their meat.


    The meat she intended to keep was sliced up and placed on the still-wet hide and rolled up; the rest went onto a slab of rock for the scavengers.


    She examined the head of the deer curiously; the antlers were seemingly crystal, black and glossy, tiny flecks glittering in the depths.


    She hung the head from the antlers at her belt; something to examine later. She was on a timeline right now; the patches of fog were gathering, approaching, milling about in the forest. She couldn¡¯t see what was in the mist, only that it was there.


    Once everything she didn¡¯t need was piled up, she used puffs of dragonfire to heat up nearby rocks, gathered up her hide with the deer steaks, and retreated back to her campsite.


    She staked out her deer steaks over her small campfire, eyes up in search of predators or scavengers looking for an easy meal, and while they cooked, she tossed the deer head onto the hide.


    Once she stripped the flesh from the skull and removed the brain; she could mash up the brains and grind it into the hide.


    The joke went, ¡°an animal had just enough brains to preserve its hide¡±, but really it was something of a lesson, a learning tool: when brains were ground into the hide during the curing process, it would turn into supple leather, just the same as any other beast she¡¯d hunted in the Redstone. But that was for later.


    She reclaimed her perch atop the boulder and waited.


    As one of the patches of fog entered the area she¡¯d put the deers innards, the heat from the stones- or perhaps just being in the sun itself- melted away to reveal something similar to the timberwolves that lived in the Redstone, but much larger.


    The wolf- if it was a wolf- was big enough to ride, with a thick pelt and snowy-white fur.


    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s who¡¯s been bothering me.¡± She exclaimed quietly as it bent to the messy pile and began to eat, massive jaws shearing through bone easily, tongue lapping up blood, gulping slithering organs quickly.


    She raised her bow.


    ¡°Hello and goodbye.¡± She greeted, and loosed. The wolf dropped immediately, and she raced down to add a wolf pelt to her collection.


    Sheilah took her time cleaning off the knife she¡¯d used for her kills. Davian had said that it¡¯d been made from a piece of Adlan¡¯s weapon, but with knives there was no real provenance or value except that it belonged to the family. It was just a flake of a tooth hafted in a scrap of leftover bone, the grip bound in scraps of dragon leather.


    But for her, it was something more. She¡¯d killed a dragon with it. Adlan had confirmed it; it was an extremely young dragon, but it was a dragon nonetheless, having passed whatever mysteries of transformation from dragonling to dragon.


    It bothered her sometimes, she¡¯d taken in the flesh and blood from both a dragon and a Tyrant Dragon, and historically speaking those that took in more than one became something more dragon than human.


    She sheathed the knife and set it aside, and went to work on the deerhide, occasionally taking bites of freshly cooked meat as she worked, part of her mind focused on her task, another part of her mind worrying about whether she would lose her humanity, a third part of her mind spreading her awareness as wide as it could go, wary of predators and intruders.


    Each part of her mind was vaguely aware of the others, though none of them were aware that this degree of partitioning was itself evidence of her transformation into something else.


    Those that could have warned her were centuries dead, and those that could have safeguarded her against it were in the Redstone.


    But she had left the Redstone, and was alone.

 Chapter 38

    It¡¯d only been recent that his wife Magdalene had stopped sleeping in her private chambers and had begrudgingly returned to their shared bedroom.


    She still wouldn¡¯t let him touch her, but to him it felt like a small victory in a long-fought cold war that had brewed between the King and Queen of Stormheim ever since that strangely brilliant barbarian Davian had demanded the liberation of the Redstone.


    Toril had given Davian his newborn daughter as hostage to prove his sincerity, and since then, Magdalene had moved to her own rooms, and outside of formal functions where they were required to speak to each other, was icy cold and bitterly silent.


    The damnable High Elves weren¡¯t doing him any favors, either.


    Supposed allies, equal partners in their shared struggles to tame the lands that threatened to kill them at every opportunity, the terror of other countries out there, equally cruel and monstrous, eager to wage war on an ill-prepared nation...


    The High Elves didn¡¯t look at Stormheim as an equal partnership. They looked at humans the same way that a human might look at a rotting dog carcass in the street gutter: down their nose, indifferent, with a sense of disgust and revulsion.


    Toril had seen the power and indomitability of Davian when he¡¯d marched through the city, through the castle, and demanded negotiations with him.


    Toril wanted, even if it was just a fraction, some of that power for himself. It wouldn¡¯t be long before he sent the envoy to the Redstone Spire to pick up his daughter. He hoped that Sheilah had managed to take in some of that relentless nature; they could certainly use some of it here.


    His wife, normally bitter, cold, and uncommunicative, had returned to his bed. Once Sheilah Stormheim returned, perhaps some happiness would return to his life. Perhaps he would find a way to get some advantage over the High Elves.


    Toril sat up in bed and scratched his beard, now mostly white.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re awake, Magdalene.¡± He greeted with a bitter chuckle. ¡°If you¡¯re happy with only a platoon of soldiers for protection, would you be amenable to be the one to greet Sheilah?¡±


    For the first time in a very long time, his wife looked him in the eye.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that more than anything, but don¡¯t pretend to tell me that you¡¯ve forgotten we have an appointment with the High Elves over the Silverlands.¡± She reminded him, her voice brittle.


    He let out a bitter sigh. ¡°The Silverlands were a mistake.¡±


    ¡°A mistake your grandfather made and we have been unable to escape.¡± She remarked, her voice still cold and brittle, like a jagged shard of ice.


    She was baiting him again. He was not responsible for the disaster that was the Silverlands; that was a mistake made by his grandfather, a mistake handed down from father to son, a mistake they had no easy way out of.


    ¡°It¡¯s a three month trip. Six weeks out there, six weeks back.¡± He mused thoughtfully. ¡°They¡¯re not expected for four months. You could make it.¡±


    She did sit up then, and faced him.


    ¡°You really think it can be done that easily? There¡¯s no real roads out that way, not anymore.¡±


    He stroked his beard in thought.


    ¡°It¡¯d be uncomfortable for you.¡± He allowed. ¡°You¡¯d have to forgo the usual amenities, I think. Two carriages, one platoon of soldiers on horseback. Riding from dawn to dusk.¡± He scratched his beard. ¡°I think it could be done.¡± He raised his arms over his head and twisted and listened to the bones in his spine creak and pop.


    ¡°And the elven ¡®advisor¡¯?¡± She reminded him. Nothing happened in Stormheim without Damiel¡¯s scrutinizing eye falling on them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something.¡± He promised weakly.


    She gave him a dubious look, but nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll consult with the Generals and make the necessary preparations. If all goes well, I¡¯ll try and set out by noon.¡±


    They offered each other tentative smiles for the first time in fourteen years.


    *****


    When Magdalene explained her request to the Generals- that she wanted to accompany the platoon east to the Redstone Valley, they immediately decided to scale up the mission in order to accommodate her.


    There would be a fleet of wagons for supplies and tents, carriages for riding, carriages for sleeping, for both her and for all her attendants, maids, and servants. Naturally, the troops would need to be increased, and the expected trip would take months.


    ¡°This simply will not do.¡± She replied. ¡°I do not mind a small discomfort. I alone will accompany the soldiers on the trip.¡±


    There was a wave of denials and refusals directed at her for this statement, all under the guise of politely worded explanations of propriety and necessities to protect her honor and alleviate her discomfort for such an arduous trip.


    Frustrated, she summoned the lieutenant in charge of the escort to one of her public rooms. He was young, though he had a small scar down one of his cheeks.


    ¡°I permit you to speak freely.¡± she began after the appropriate bows and introductions were given to her. ¡°I want to know exactly what sort of hardships and discomforts you expect to encounter on the trip between here and the Redstone Spire. Omit nothing.¡±


    He gave her a confused look. She gestured imperiously. ¡°I am someone who is unused to travel in the manner of soldiers. I wish for you to explain to me, who is unused to such things, what you expect to face, from the perspective of a commoner.¡±


    His face grew more sickly. Why did she want to know such things from a commoner¡¯s perspective?


    ¡°Well, Your Highness-¡±


    She cut him off. ¡°I told you to speak freely. Forgo the usual honorifics and provide me with the explanations I require.¡±


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    ¡°Ugh.¡± He sighed, and scratched his cheek with his finger. ¡°We don¡¯t... take a lot of food with us on missions. Most of it is foraged. There are times when there isn¡¯t anything to forage and we go hungry. There are dangerous beasts in the forests. Sometimes there are bandits.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°And? Go on.¡± she gestured imperiously.


    ¡°You said ... I am to speak freely.¡± He offered tentatively. She nodded.


    ¡°I... would like to know why, so...¡± He paused as his eyes roamed around the opulent sitting room as he scrambled to think of a reason. ¡°S-so that I can give you the answers you need!¡± He stammered out in a half shout.


    She took a breath, held it, and let it out.


    ¡°Because I intend to be a part of your mission to pick up Sheilah Stormheim. The expedition is to leave in four hours and I don¡¯t intend to keep you from your duties. Be quick, be frank, and omit nothing.¡±


    His face grew even more sickly at that.


    ¡°There are no... amenities that you would need for such a trip. No tents, no room for your maids and attendants-¡±


    ¡°I will not bring them. I will go alone.¡± she replied imperiously.


    His face went red. ¡°There is no way two platoons would be sufficient to protect someone of your status!¡± He argued.


    ¡°And yet two platoons would be sufficient to protect my daughter?¡± She asked, confused and angry.


    He dropped his gaze to his feet.


    ¡°You will not be able to bathe, Your Highness. Nor are there... appropriate means for... relieving yourself. There will be no way to ...protect your honor and... dignity.¡± He offered delicately.


    Her eyebrows shot up at this. She hadn¡¯t thought of that at all. It occurred to her that there would be no way for her to change clothes either, with no handmaidens.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring along one handmaiden to assist me with my ...difficulties. We will use two carriages as planned; one for riding and one for sleeping. The one for sleeping will carry the necessary... amenities while not in use.¡± She decided firmly. ¡°Make the necessary adjustments. I will be coming along, and we will be arriving on schedule, in six weeks.¡±


    He gulped at that, but nodded reluctantly.


    It was the right of the nobility to demand the impossible; it was the responsibility of the commoners to make it possible.


    *****


    Toril sat in his office, not seeing the hanging tapestries, the wooden paneling, the gilt-edged furniture, or the expensive carving done on the edges of his desk. He didn¡¯t notice the maid tending the roaring fireplace, the enormous paintings in golden framework. All he could see at this point was the stack of paperwork in front of him; things he refused to allocate to his ministers, who were expected to oversee everything. He liked to audit random things to make sure the kingdom of Stormheim remained prosperous.


    Once again the settlement in the Silverlands had been wiped out. Men, women, children. Soldiers, craftsmen, farmers, so on and so forth, all of them were irretrievably lost in what the High Elves reported to be a monster attack.


    Of course nobody had survived.


    Of course, the High Elves had done everything to assist in protecting them.


    The Silverlands was a coastal region in the Northern Continent, known for its silver deposits. The Northern Continent was home to the various races of elves, and the Silverlands was no different.


    Toril¡¯s grandfather had made a deal for a portion of the Silverlands to be gifted to Stormheim. However, colonizing the Silverlands was fraught with peril, because it was untamed lands, populated with all manner of savage beasts.


    No matter how often or how aggressively they tried, Stormheim was unable to successfully establish a beachhead on the Silverlands. Stormheim could no longer sustain an attempt to establish a colony in the Silverlands. Regardless if they were capable of establishing a colony there Stormheim still had to pay tribute to the elves for the land.


    Many many times Stormheim had attempted to give up the Silverlands, give it back to the Elves, but the Elves refused to end the contract- and had hinted at war if Stormheim broke contract.


    The kingdom dangled on the precipice of bankruptcy because they couldn¡¯t get at the silver, they couldn¡¯t pay the elves the yearly tribute. Without money, they couldn¡¯t afford a standing army, field a navy, or feed their people.


    The door to his office opened, and Damiel strode in, a slight smile on his ebon face.


    Damiel was a Dark Elf, with pitch-black skin, shockingly light blue eyes, and reddish orange hair. He came and went as he pleased, without regard to formality or privacy. He was there, ostensibly, to assist in the elf-human alliance, but really he was a mole for the elves, reporting everything back to them with the weight of diplomatic immunity behind him.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice the gathering of soldiers in the Common Square of the Horse.¡± He began without waiting for Toril¡¯s approval or acknowledgement. ¡°Do tell- what is going on down there?¡±


    Toril frowned at him, and then exaggeratedly pulled a paper from the pile; a report on grain production from the westlands and pretended to examine it.


    ¡°If they¡¯re following their orders, they¡¯re erecting scaffolds.¡± He offered, and then eyed Damiel. ¡°There¡¯s been reports of people walking into rooms without requesting the owner¡¯s permission. It¡¯s gotten so bad, apparently, that the highest offenders will have to be lynched.¡± He set the paper down. ¡°Do remember to knock. It¡¯d be a tragedy if something were to happen to you.¡±


    Damiel chuckled. ¡°Everyone, from the highest to the lowest, should know by now that I am immune to your laws. I can go where I want and do what I want and none can lift a finger.¡±


    ¡°Do the farmers in the westlands know this? Do the clansmen in the Redstone? Do the pioneers in the Shadowlands?¡± Toril asked. ¡°Be careful where you step, elf. Some overzealous but uneducated might put an arrow... or a pitchfork through you.¡±


    The elf laughed again. ¡°I actually pray for that to happen, you know. Then we can finally let go of this petty farce of an alliance and take your lands for ourselves once and for all.¡±


    Toril felt his rage boil up, struggled with it, tamped it down. ¡°Was that it? You were curious about some soldiers following orders in the commoner¡¯s district?¡± He asked, feeling an augur of pain building in his head, the start of a headache.


    ¡°Actually, I was wondering where your Queen was.¡± the dark elf replied. ¡°She¡¯s been gone all morning.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± He replied.


    ¡°Awww, and after you just managed to patch things up with her! How cold of you!¡±


    Toril tucked the papers he was looking at into his desk, pushed the elf outside of his office, slammed the door and locked it.


    If he was lucky, the bastard would pay no more mind to the soldiers than that. If he was lucky, Damiel would fuck off and bother someone else. If he was lucky, his wife the queen would be heading off to the Redstone Valley to pick up their daughter without that obnoxious elf tagging along.


    He settled himself into his chair and leaned back to relax a bit before he got back to work.


    Like a mosquito that won¡¯t fuck off, Damiel opened to door to his office and strolled back in.


    ¡°I have a question for you about something you mentioned.¡±


    Toril closed his eyes and pretended the elf wasn¡¯t in the room. Eventually the creature would give up and go away. He hoped.


    ¡°What¡¯s the Redstone?¡± The elf asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a land of canyons and cliffsides. I hear that it¡¯s pretty unpleasant; that it boils in the day and freezes at night.¡±


    ¡°And people live there?¡± The dark elf asked, curious.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend visiting them.¡± Toril advised honestly. ¡°They don¡¯t like visitors, they¡¯re immune to magic, and I hear they eat dragons.¡±


    ¡°Oooh.¡± The elf gasped theatrically.


    This time, Damiel left for real.

 Chapter 39

    On the continent the High Elves called ¡®Erasmus¡¯, there were three Dark Elves, and all of them lived in the city of Stormheim: Damiel, Artrus, and Eatha.


    It was their responsibility to report the comings and goings and business that happened in Stormheim to the High Elves back in their homeland so that the High Elves could take appropriate measures if necessary.


    Really, the work was divided between Damiel and Artrus, since Eatha refused to leave their apartments, listing so many complaints about the sights and smells of barbarity the two men had simply given up.


    It was Artrus who had reported the gathering of soldiers in the common district; Damiel refused to step into the common district at all, preferring to roam around the upper districts of nobility and the castle.


    Artrus greeted him with the announcement that two platoons would be leaving the city, heading east. The official word was training exercises, but the real word was ¡®monster subjugation¡¯.


    The forests that bordered Stormheim were filled with all sorts of magical beasts, and made for excellent targets for training, it seemed.


    ¡°Follow them and see where they go and what they do. Normally I wouldn¡¯t care what these creatures do, but it is quite sudden. I don¡¯t much like the idea of them springing something on us unexpected.¡± Damiel decided.


    Artrus nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t let them see you.¡± Damiel added as an afterthought.


    *****


    Sheilah dreamed strange, many-threaded dreams.


    In one dream, she regretted not telling Fialla that she was leaving the Redstone.


    She should have told her, but she was afraid her friend would insist that she follow, which would prompt Sheilah to explain that she was really from Stormheim. She was terrified of how Fialla would think of her, then.


    They had always been friends, and the both of them had killed Stormheim invaders together. Would Fialla turn against her? What would she say? What would she do?


    Sheilah had left rather than trying to find out.


    In her dream Fialla¡¯s expression had cooled, her face had hardened, and she¡¯d raised the spear that the two of them had made together, and leveled it at Sheilah¡¯s heart.


    In another dream, she faced off from Fialla, her Supremacy warring with Fialla¡¯s own, the girl marching towards her regardless, spear in hand, filled with grim determination.


    In a different dream, Adlan gave her a smile that was edged in sadness.


    ¡°Oh Sheilah.¡± He lamented, and shook his head sadly.


    She struggled to reach him, but there was some barrier, some insurmountable obstacle that seemed to separate them. He shook his head again, but this time it was a simple negation, not one of sorrow.


    ¡°I¡¯ve one final gift for a girl that should have been my daughter.¡±


    She stopped trying to reach him, then.


    ¡°What is it, ancestor that should have been my father?¡± She asked, and he broke into laughter.


    ¡°Something you should have had from the beginning.¡± He replied simply, growing strange, wispy, insubstantial.


    In another dream she was hunting another wolf, this time stalking between trees, focusing her attention on the clots of fog the wolves somehow managed to find themselves in, lunging through the vapors with flames flickering between her new teeth, hands curled like claws, eyes burning with brilliant and savage purpose.


    In yet another dream, she was not even Sheilah herself, anymore. She was the dread shadow, true lord of the sky, trailing ribbons of ash and flame, and wherever she passed, trees burned, animals howled as their bodies caught alight, rivers and lakes boiled, and those that knew fear scattered in front of her as she laughingly brought the end-


    Sheilah woke with the sound of gritting sand on hard stone near her feet. She snatched her sword and threw herself into a roll, bringing her blade across in a savage arc that was suddenly stopped.


    ¡°You¡¯re not nearly as fast with your sword as I am with my spear, Sheilah.¡± Fialla called out in the dark tauntingly.


    Sheilah stood up, letting the wolf pelt fall from her shoulders.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± She immediately demanded.


    Dawn hadn¡¯t yet arrived, but the sky was lightening towards it, the sun threatening to peek above the horizon; the air was more humid than in the Redstone, cool and laden with the scents of the forest, of herself, of Fialla, of old dried blood.


    Fialla was silently staring at Sheilah, even as Sheilah wondered what Fialla might say, worried what Fialla might say, dreaded fighting the half-elf girl, planned how to win against the girl, considered how to dismantle the the thing in front of her-


    ¡°What are you doing here, Fialla?¡± Sheilah demanded a second time, heart thundering, an ache forming behind her eyes.


    The young Wild Elf girl smiled at her instead. ¡°What an obvious question.¡± Fialla retorted. ¡°It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out where you¡¯d gone, and after tracking you for so long, it wasn¡¯t hard to find your trail.¡±


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    Sheilah rubbed her face with her hand. ¡°Do your parents know you are here? They¡¯ll kill you if they know that you¡¯ve left the Valley.¡±


    Fialla laughed at that, and poked the fire with the tip of her spear.


    ¡°I¡¯m an adult, and I can go where I want.¡± She replied. ¡°So I took my things and followed you.¡±


    Sheilah sighed.


    She moved to the other side of the fire, where she kept a small pile of wood she¡¯d gathered. She tossed two pieces on the fire and then sat, gesturing to the other girl.


    ¡°Not only did I follow you, but I come bearing gifts.¡± Fialla announced, unshouldering a quiver that rattled with arrows.


    ¡°Dragonling tooth arrows?¡± Sheilah asked, and Fialla nodded.


    ¡°Another thirty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s-¡± Sheilah began, but cut herself off.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I know how much you like them, so I had them made with my extra teeth.¡± The elfin girl replied casually, joining her at the fire. ¡°I brought water, if you¡¯re thirsty.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, accepted the waterskin, took a few greedy gulps before handing it back.


    ¡°You still-¡± Sheilah began, but Fialla shook her head.


    ¡°I already answered you. I¡¯m an adult, I can go where I want. So I¡¯m choosing to go with you.¡± Fialla replied.


    ¡°They really will kill you, you know.¡± Sheilah finally said.


    ¡°The people that are coming to meet you, or my parents?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°Your parents, obviously!¡± Sheilah retorted hotly.


    Fialla held up her hands and shook her head. ¡°We had a talk. Also a talk with Davian.¡± She shuddered. ¡°He gave me a thrashing.¡±


    ¡°Then he¡¯ll kill you.¡± Sheilah offered, but Fialla shook her head.


    ¡°How do you think I knew to come here? He told me.¡±


    Sheilah rubbed her face, frustrated. There was too much she wanted to say, contradictory things. She wanted to hit the girl, hug her, she wanted Fialla go back to the Valley, she wanted to embrace her and thank her for not leaving her completely alone.


    She closed her eyes.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She finally said quietly. ¡°I was lonely.¡±


    Fialla nodded at that, then laid down her bedroll next to Sheilah¡¯s.


    ¡°I think I need a nap, if you don¡¯t mind taking a watch for a couple of hours.¡± the elven girl announced.


    Sheilah shrugged and nodded.


    Sheilah climbed up onto the boulder she had sat on since she¡¯d gotten here, and settled herself to think.


    A few hours later, Fialla woke up, stretched, and inspected the meager camp.


    There wasn¡¯t much to inspect: Sheilah¡¯s bedroll, campfire, and pack. There were a couple of deer hides and quite a few wolfskin furs she¡¯d collected, as well as several pairs of the curious crystalline antlers the deer here had.


    Fialla briefly rolled around on the thick wolf hides, exclaiming over their softness, until Sheilah tossed her empty waterskins.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re-¡± Sheilah began, and then frowned in thought. ¡°If you¡¯re-¡± She tried again.


    ¡°I think you should tell me why you¡¯re out here. Davian was as tight-lipped as you¡¯ve always said. He didn¡¯t explain why you¡¯d left, except that it was your choice, and that people were coming to pick you up.¡± her tone turned up at the end, making it half a question.


    Sheilah sighed at that; a conversation she¡¯d dreaded having.


    ¡°Davian... told me... He¡¯s not really my father.¡± Sheilah admitted quietly. ¡°My real parents are- are from Stormheim.¡± She added, and rubbed her face with her hands. ¡°He said I was given to Davian as a promise that Stormheim wouldn¡¯t attack the Redstone.¡±


    Fialla listened attentively, and gave her a puzzled look at the end. ¡°You¡¯re going back to Stormheim?¡± She asked.


    Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°Does that mean that Stormheim will attack the Redstone again?¡± Fialla asked.


    Sheilah gave her a baffled look. ¡°I have no idea.¡± She replied. ¡°I¡¯ll stop them myself if they try.¡±


    Fialla nodded and stood. ¡°I¡¯ll think of more to ask later.¡±


    Sheilah nodded at that. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re staying, then we¡¯ll divide up the chores.¡± She decided. ¡°I¡¯ll get breakfast together- it¡¯s just meat- and I¡¯ll have you get some water. There¡¯s a small pool in the forest.¡± She pointed. ¡°It¡¯s about two paces across and about knee deep. Go fill the skins. Keep an eye out for fog.¡±


    Fialla glanced at her as she was picking up the empty skins. ¡°Fog? Why?¡±


    Sheilah pointed at the furs.


    ¡°Those monsters make it somehow. They surround themselves in fog and hide in it. It blinds their prey.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh.¡± Fialla exclaimed in awe.


    Sheilah grinned. ¡°They like to hunt in packs, too. Be careful.¡±


    ¡°How will I find the pool?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty obvious.¡± Sheilah replied, and gestured for Fialla to climb up on the boulder. Once the smaller girl was beside her, Sheilah pointed.


    ¡°If you head that way in more or less a straight line... you¡¯ll smell it in about an hour.¡± She explained. ¡°There¡¯s a few small rocks around the edge, too.¡±


    Fialla nodded, and headed in the direction Sheilah pointed.


    *****


    Fialla eyed everything carefully as she entered the forest. It didn¡¯t matter where she was, she knew that it was imperative that she keep an eye out in every direction. The Redstone killed the unwary; it was likely that this forest was just as deadly, perhaps in different ways, but still the same in its lethality.


    There could be small predators that hid in the plants, larger ones that lived in the trees, even things that dropped down from above.


    In order to survive, she needed to learn the forest¡¯s dangers. Sheilah had already told her about one; wolves that somehow could summon mist around themselves.


    People lived outside the order of things. They could kill or be killed by the savagery of the land around them. They had the need to establish dominion over whatever land they were in and become the apex predators.


    That¡¯s what it meant to be a member of the Clans. That¡¯s what it meant to be a Dragon.


    She was ill-suited to hunting in the forest. Her dragon armor was made from the hide of her dragon, a leather that was mottled charcoal and black, with spots that glowed like the embers of a fire in a regular pattern. If she was in the Ashlands she would blend in; the reddish-gold spots a warning to everything that death was nearby, but in the verdant forest, it stuck out.


    Still, she was proud of her armor, the spirit of the dragon burned in her heart, and its hide protected her body.


    She was a Dragon, inside and out, and no one could deny her power.


    Well, except her parents, Davian, and Sheilah, She admitted to herself.


    Where had Sheilah gotten her armor?


    The hide of a Tyrant Dragon was much too thick to be turned into leather, and dragon leather armor was made to fit, personalized to fit the wearer.


    Up ahead was the pool of water, and crouched nearby was a man filling a waterskin. Fialla froze and dropped into a crouch, watching his every movement. He was an elf, that much was obvious, but his skin was so black it was almost blue.

 Chapter 40

    Fialla had never seen a Dark Elf, but her family had talked about them.


    Her father had told her that they were the arms and legs of the High Elves, doing whatever they bid.


    They were a villainous people, and had enslaved the Wild Elves at the command of the High Elves, tortured and killed them in vast numbers.


    Fialla, young and curious, had asked her father,


    ¡°How many, Father?¡±


    To which he replied, ¡°More than all the Wild Elves in the Redstone today.¡±


    Her own uncle, her father¡¯s older brother, had been the victim of the depredations the Dark Elves had visited on her people.


    A swell of anger bloomed in her breast; before she could think, she¡¯d reached to the dragontooth knife on her belt, flipped it up so she gripped it by the point, and hurled it with all of her strength.


    He spun quickly, as if expecting the knife, swinging his waterbag in an arc that knocked her blade to the side, and bolted for the depths of the forest.


    She rose up, adjusted her grip on her spear and hurled it at his legs as she chased him. His legs tangled in the shaft of her spear as she dashed towards him, scooping up her knife.


    He hit the ground and bounced back up to his feet adroitly; she hurled her knife at him again and that time caught him in the thigh.


    He squealed and tried to roll away, but she was on him then, yanking her spear out of the ground and slamming into him.


    They crashed to the soft, rich ground of the forest together. They struggled together, trading blows. He was an accomplished fighter, Fialla realized, but he was no Clansman, did not know how to truly fight with hands and fists and feet. She grabbed him and rolled, pinning him underneath her, slamming the length of her spear against his throat. He let out a rattling croak.


    His hands reached for her, she batted them away and slammed her fist into his nose, spraying blood.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± She demanded, hitting him again. He croaked at her, and she hit him again.


    He grabbed her arm and it instantly went numb; she glanced at the useless limb and saw a long needle buried in it. She grit her teeth and used her spear as a lever to press down on his neck as she tore the needle out with her teeth.


    ¡°You... You can¡¯t-¡± He blurted in a strangled voice, so she hit him again with her off hand. It wasn¡¯t as strong a blow as her dominant arm, but his head bounced off the soft dirt of the forest floor anyway.


    Her whole arm was numb now, traveling up her shoulder. She slammed her head into his, and he went limp.


    She was supposed to be blessed by the Dragon, immune to poisons and disease. Was it not working? She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and reached for the power she carried within her. Fire bloomed within her breast, searing through her veins.


    Her useless arm prickled and needled as if it had fallen asleep and cramped up, she let out a moan that wanted to be a scream and grabbed her useless arm with her other, biting her lip to stifle the scream that wanted to rip its way out of her.


    The heat faded from her arm and relaxed the muscles; she gasped in relief as tears ran from her eyes.


    The fire faded from her breast, replaced by a horrible, gnawing hunger that roared from her guts.


    She struggled off of him and wolfed some of her rations, the trail mix that everyone carried with them, a mix of vegetables, grains, and meat. The dragon within her resisted, demanding the raw, bloody meat of her prey.


    She grimly chewed and swallowed, refusing the savage urge to tear into the Dark Elf with her teeth and rend his flesh, swallow it in great gulps.


    Eventually the urge to cannibalize her victim faded to a dull ache; the blood that leaked from his leg whet her appetite every time she saw it.


    She stripped him of his clothes, as black as he was, discovering a similar sort of ration on his belt and eating that, too.


    There was a coil of rope wrapped around his waist; she used that to bind his arms and legs.


    She retrieved her waterbags and his, filled them at the pool, and then began dragging him towards the camp she shared with Sheilah. Sheilah would know what to do with him.


    She paused only for a moment as a thought occurred to her; the memory of Sheilah eating a raw lizard with great relish right in front of her.


    ¡°Is that why she did it?¡± Fialla wondered, but started walking again.


    *****


    Artrus woke to find himself in a humiliating position; stripped naked, hands and feet bound with his own rope, being dragged through the forest. His leg was bleeding and nearly useless.


    He struggled to recall what had happened, to figure out how he¡¯d gotten into such a position.


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    ¡°Hey-¡± He croaked, tried to wet his lips and tried again. ¡°Hey-¡± he called, trying to look around himself.


    All he could see was the water pool he¡¯d been using to refill his skins receding. He¡¯d been using it while he waited for the patrol he was shadowing to catch up.


    Something had slammed into him, all black and gray and glowing coals, something monstrous and terrifying-


    Some sort of monster, some predator was taking him back to its den to devour-


    But why- how- would a monster tie him up?


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± He croaked, trying diplomacy again.


    ¡°No.¡± the one who was dragging replied simply.


    ¡°Listen: I have connections. High connections. I can get you anything you want.¡± He offered.


    He couldn¡¯t figure out what happened for a moment. The world whirled around him; he slammed into the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.


    He opened his eyes and met a pair of silvery-gray eyes glaring back at him. Her skin was a warm, light brown, her ears were long and pointed like his; her hair was glossy black, and in her hands was a long spear; the head was some creamy, milky material with an orange heart. The blade looked very sharp.


    ¡°You look familiar.¡± He managed to say after he got his wind back. The blade immediately touched his throat. Adrenaline splashed into his veins; he was certain that if he swallowed, his throat would be cut.


    ¡°The only thing I want, Dark Elf, is your head on a stick.¡± She spat at him.


    He blinked at this barely-restrained savagery. He looked in her burning eyes and all he saw was immediate, brutal violence. All he saw was his death.


    ¡°Wait.¡± He whispered. It would be prudent for him to whisper, so he did. He needed to calm her down.


    ¡°What.¡± Her voice was slick and smooth, like the feeling of silk sliding across fingertips. Her accent was strange, her cadence and pitch all wrong, but he was certain.


    ¡°You¡¯re a Wildling, right?¡± He asked in that tiny voice. ¡°A Wild Elf.¡±


    She didn¡¯t say anything, so he pressed further. ¡°What are you doing here, in these lands?¡±


    ¡°Living.¡± She whispered back, her lovely lips curving in a predatory grin. ¡°Living free of you.¡±


    ¡°Please-¡± he began, and relaxed as the spear was removed from his throat.


    ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind.¡± Fialla decided. ¡°I was going to take you back to camp and let my older sister decide what to do with you.¡± She sat down next to him and smiled a lovely, dangerous smile. ¡°But I remembered some things my father told me about Dark Elves; things that they did to my people. Things they did to my family, before I was even born. Things the Dark Elves did in the name of the High Elves.¡±


    She showed him her knife, the blade carved from that same strange creamy material.


    *****


    Sheilah was up on the boulder again, bow in her lap, arrow nocked, when Fialla returned, using her spear as a walking stick.


    ¡°Run into any problems?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°This... forest... is very different from the Redstone.¡± Fialla replied.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll get used to it.¡± She agreed.


    ¡°Are we going to stay here long?¡± Fialla asked. ¡°We¡¯ll need to build a shelter.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°I was- Davian told me that some people would be along to ... pick me up... and take me to Stormheim.¡± She replied.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here for some time.¡± Fialla observed, and Sheilah nodded.


    The half-elf sat herself next to Sheilah after dropping her waterskins.


    ¡°You seem to have a new waterskin?¡± Sheilah questioned, but Fialla shook her head at the question.


    ¡°Do you think...¡± Fialla began, and then adjusted her position on the large boulder. ¡°Do you think that you¡¯ll make your family proud, even separated from them like this?¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°I know it.¡± She replied simply, and tugged on her armor with a finger.


    Fialla nodded at that.


    ¡°How did you get that armor, by the way?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°How did you get blood on yours?¡± Sheilah fired back.


    ¡°Ah.¡± Fialla blurted. She took a breath. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you if you tell me.¡±


    Sheilah let out a breath. ¡°It was a gift.¡±


    Fialla twisted her face up. ¡°You can¡¯t just do that. It¡¯s not something you do. It¡¯s practically a part of you. It¡¯s something that you¡¯re buried with, along with your necklace.¡± She argued. ¡°You can¡¯t just be gifted dragon armor.¡±


    Sheilah waited for Fialla to wind down from her completely correct tirade before revealing the answer. ¡°Adlan gave it to me.¡±


    Fialla immediately shut up at that. She reached out and touched it with her fingertip. ¡°Is it his?¡± She whispered.


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°He didn¡¯t explain it to me... but it was made for me.¡±


    Fialla eyed it carefully. ¡°This pattern definitely looks like it was taken from the Tyrant Dragon you killed, but how did he..?¡± She wondered. ¡°That hide was thick, Sheilah. There was no way we could have made it into leather.¡±


    Sheilah shrugged. ¡°Ask nothing of the spirits.¡± She replied, and then bumped her shoulder against Fialla¡¯s. ¡°The blood?¡±


    ¡°I ran into a Dark Elf.¡± She replied, her hands curling into fists. ¡°My father told me about them. What they did to my people. Why they did it. How they enjoyed it.¡± Her face twisted into bitter anger. ¡°That thing recognized me.¡± She looked up at Sheilah. ¡°They tortured us, Sheilah. They did it and laughed. My father told me all about what they did. He looked down on me. Even with my spear at his throat, he was looking down on me.¡±


    She shook her head, letting her hair swing. ¡°I could not let that stand.¡± Tears gathered in her eyes. ¡°I want to go home and tell my father what I did so that he can hold me and tell me that I did good.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long trip, but you could go see him, Fialla.¡± Sheilah offered as she held the wiry elf.


    The girl shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m staying with you. Where you go, I go.¡±


    ¡°Well then, I guess I¡¯ll have to tell you that I¡¯m proud of you in his place.¡± Sheilah whispered and held her close.

 Chapter 41

    Magdalene Stormheim, Queen of Stormheim, eyed her breakfast with disgust. A bowl of indifferently cooked meal, a handful of jerky, and a skin of water. There was a wineskin, but the wine was so coarse it was nearly unpalatable. She had very nearly emptied it out of the carriage in disgust.


    There would be no lunch, and another bowl of meal, perhaps supplemented with some mysterious meat that the guards had hunted for dinner.


    She had to admit that her lieutenant had been absolutely correct about the inconveniences they¡¯d suffer in their trip.


    She was worn out, tired, and felt unimaginably filthy. There was no place for her to bathe, she relieved herself in a box that grew more and more foul the longer she used it, her food was indescribably unpleasant, and her nights offered her no satisfying rest.


    Strange animals slithered, hopped, or trotted past her carriage during the night. The air was split with howls, growls, snarls, chatters, and other unspeakable noises at all hours of the day and night, not to mention the coarse mutters from her guards.


    The entire trip was unbearable. She found herself dreaming of the simple luxuries she¡¯d taken for granted back in Stormheim.


    Water was at a premium, so the best she could do was wipe herself down with a cloth.


    ¡°Your Highness.¡± A voice, the voice of her lieutenant, spoke up from her carriage. Her maid tensed.


    ¡°Report.¡± Magdalene replied crisply, despite feeling absolutely miserable.


    ¡°We¡¯ve sighted the Redstone Spire. It should be no longer than a day to arrive. Two on the outside.¡±


    Magdalene let out a sigh of relief. Almost there, which meant they¡¯d nearly arrived at the halfway point.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She replied, reminding herself to respond in a dignified tone. She was deeply regretting her choice to come along on this expedition.


    She ordered her maid to break out the barrel of water they used to wash themselves, a barrel of water that the soldiers eyed with stone faces and contemptuous, greedy eyes. It was written in the blankness of their faces- how dare someone use precious water- water that could be better used to drink, water the horses, to bathe?


    Her maid helped her wipe herself down, unbraid her hair, soak her head, dry off, and then helped her into one of her dresses that she¡¯d unfortunately had to rotate through as if she were a peasant- and then she had to wait impatiently as her maid tended to herself.


    Once they were presentable, she signaled the troops to advance.


    ¡°I do hope this goes well.¡± She muttered to herself. She would reclaim her daughter, bring her back to her rightful place at Stormheim, prepare her for her social debut, and perhaps, just perhaps, she could work on mending her relationship with Toril. He hadn¡¯t done wrong by her, not really, but he could be oddly stubborn at times.


    ¡°Well,¡± she admitted to herself, ¡°I suppose that I can be a bit stubborn, myself.¡±


    It was the next day that everything went horribly wrong.


    Magdalene had finished her bland breakfast of boiled oats with some sliced fruit her lieutenant said was edible- That was it? It was edible?- and returned to the riding carriage, expecting another long day of bumps, jostles, and a sickening swaying sensation she was never able to quite get used to.


    About halfway into her ride, there was a shout, and the sound of steel being drawn.


    A loud, clear voice called out.


    ¡°Name yourselves if you wish to live!¡±


    *****


    Magdalene peeked out the curtains, and saw a young woman with tousled black hair standing on a boulder.


    She was dressed in some leather outfit of crimson red with brilliant yellow streaks, and brandished a massive bow she aimed down at them. She stood there, proud, defiant and dangerous, glaring with the surety that she could slaughter all of her troops before they reached her.


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    Suddenly, she realized that she was terrified of the young woman.


    ¡°Lieutenant.¡± Magdalene called through numb lips.


    ¡°My Lady, stay in the carriage, and stay low, if you can. We have a situation.¡± her soldier replied back tersely. Sweat was trickling down his face, and he seemed nervous, jittery.


    ¡°That might be who we need to meet.¡± She replied back, struggling to keep her voice even.


    She hadn¡¯t told her troops that they were coming here, to this stone, to retrieve her daughter. Commoners- even soldiers- liked to gossip, and she didn¡¯t want any more rumors spreading as necessary.


    ¡°What shall we do?¡± Her lieutenant called back hoarsely.


    ¡°Ask her what her name is.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°If it¡¯s Sheilah, that is who we are to meet here.¡±


    *****


    Sheilah spotted the troops coming long before they arrived.


    ¡°Fialla, pack up the camp as much as you can.¡± She instructed. ¡°We have guests, maybe the ones I¡¯ve been waiting for.¡±


    She picked out the troops marching in a protective formation around the carriages; she wasn¡¯t certain why such a thing was necessary, so she decided to wait until the carriages were within bowshot. She¡¯d been able to kill beasts and dragonlings with her bow before, a flimsy thing of wood and metal would be easier prey.


    ¡°Should I circle around them?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°You forgot your bow.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Stay here with me, out of sight.¡±


    ¡°You never taught me how to make my own.¡± the smaller girl retorted hotly.


    ¡°A mistake I regret to this day.¡± Sheilah replied casually, vaulting to the top of the boulder, releasing Supremacy the way Adlan had taught her, rather than the way the Dragon wanted.


    She nocked an arrow, drew it to her cheek, and hollered out her challenge.


    ¡°Name yourselves if you want to live!¡±


    Her first shot would go right into the heart of the carriage. They were arranged about it in a protective formation; to take that away from them was the first crucial move.


    The soldiers all drew their swords at the first sight of her; as Supremacy washed over them.


    After her challenge there was a small stir among the men and one of them rode his horse a little ways away from the protective knot. It was obvious from the ways the horses behaved that they absolutely felt the effects of her Supremacy.


    He sheathed his sword, and raised his hands in the air. ¡°We were instructed to meet someone here. If you could tell me your name, I¡¯m sure we could-¡±


    ¡°I told you to name yourself, first.¡± Sheilah replied, dipping her bow to center on him.


    ¡°I am Lieutenant Thorfin of Stormheim.¡± He replied, nervous. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°Sheilah, first blood of the Dragon Clan.¡± She replied.


    ¡°We¡¯ve come for you.¡± He immediately shot back. ¡°Can you lower your weapon so that we can talk?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t have any problems at all talking like this.¡± She replied sardonically.


    He gave her a frustrated look, which made her smile. She relaxed the draw on her bow and tucked her arrow in her quiver. She slung the bow over her shoulder, adjusted the sword on her hip, and called to Fialla in a low voice. ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to him. If I blast him with fire, I think you know what to do.¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to protect you this way?¡± Fialla growled in a strangled voice. ¡°I¡¯m coming too.¡±


    Sheilah leapt from the top of the boulder to the ground below, and approached Thorfin easily, mentally going through the exercise of drawing her sword and taking his head off. Would it be better to follow it up with a blast of flame, or should she immediately duck behind a tree and use her arrows?


    Thorfin dismounted, and Sheilah grinned. His horse would make excellent cover, and a decent meal when it was all over. The horse was between the troops and Thorfin, so any attack the soldiers made had to first go through the horse.


    He knelt in front of her and bowed his head.


    She stopped in her tracks. What was this? Her father hadn¡¯t taught her anything about this.


    ¡°My Lady, please allow me to escort you.¡± He announced hoarsely.


    ¡°So am I to ride one of these beasts, or do I sit on the pretty wagon?¡± She asked, and he gaped at her, quickly smothered.


    ¡°I, uh-¡± He began, but cut himself off.


    ¡°Lieutenant, I will speak with her.¡± A woman¡¯s voice called out.


    Sheilah¡¯s eyebrow went up at the sound of the woman¡¯s voice. She reached under her coat and produced a small waterskin, which she handed to Thorfin. ¡°For the time being, it seems as though we¡¯re not killing each other. Drink up.¡±


    He took the small waterbag, popped the cork, cautiously sniffed the contents, and drank quickly, throat working as he swallowed. He turned back to offer his thanks, but she was already moving past the horse and heading towards the carriage.


    She approached the carriage, trying to figure out how to open it up. Obviously it did, people climbed in and out of it, right? It didn¡¯t look like any cart or wagon that she was familiar with, however.


    Part of the side opened up, revealing a plush interior with cushioned benches on either side. There were two women inside, both eyeing her expectantly.

 Chapter 42

    Sheilah stared up into the carriage, part of her wondering how she¡¯d fit into the thing with her bow, quiver and sword, part of her wondering what she should say once inside, part of her wondering what it would be like to launch her breath into the confined space, part of her alert and wary of all the men and horses around her, part of her marveling that yes, she was aware of even the mice lurking in the grass nearby.


    She turned away from the carriage, and let out a whistle; Fialla moved to join her. The soldiers all stiffened and muttered amongst themselves at the sight of Fialla; Shielah overheard some of them remarking about her elven features in low, dangerous tones.


    Well, Fialla should be able to take care of herself, if things got bad. She had enough faith in her friend for that.


    Sheilah handed off her bow and quiver of arrows.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get these back from you.¡± Sheilah murmured, and Fialla nodded.


    She awkwardly climbed into the carriage, laying her rapier across her lap, making sure her belt knife was close at hand. She might not be in the Redlands, but it was always prudent to keep a knife within reach of a hand.


    Once she was settled, she eyed the two women carefully.


    One of them was an older woman with a certain severity to her face, her hair was a mix of blonde with streaks of white from age, and her eyes were pale blue. The other was much younger, with dark eyes and hair.


    After a long moment of silence while the three women eyed each other, ¡°Well, who are you?¡± Sheilah asked brusquely, breaking the silence.


    Magdalene let out a short breath. ¡°I¡¯m your mother. You¡¯re my daughter. You¡¯re coming home with me.¡± She replied matter-of-factly. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. ¡°It would probably be better if we weren¡¯t staring at each other like complete strangers.¡± She added in a lower tone.


    Sheilah adopted a complicated expression as her parallel thinking developed several replies. ¡°I learned that my parents weren¡¯t my parents only a couple of months ago.¡± She replied and then added, ¡°and that my real parents were from our enemy, Stormheim. For now, strangers suits me just fine.¡±


    ¡°Enemy? The Clansmen think of Stormheim as... the enemy?¡± Magdalene replied, baffled.


    Sheilah gave her a confused look. Wasn¡¯t it well known?


    ¡°Yeah. Enemy.¡± Sheilah agreed, a touch of challenge in her voice, daring the woman in front of her to violence.


    Why was she trying to provoke the woman?


    Her gaze shifted to the other woman. ¡°Who is she?¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes dismissively. ¡°She¡¯s my maid.¡±


    ¡°An answer that doesn¡¯t explain anything.¡± Sheilah replied, irritated. What was a maid? She wasn¡¯t getting anywhere with this woman. Ladria at least offered understandable explanations to why things were.


    She pulled her knife from her boot and twirled it on her hand. ¡°I¡¯m given to understand that you gave me this knife.¡±


    Magdalene nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    Sheilah nodded and tucked the knife back in her boot. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°To protect yourself.¡± her mother replied.


    Sheilah nodded.


    The silent tension stretched indeterminately.


    ¡°Do you have any belongings we need to pack?¡± Magdalene asked.


    ¡°A bit. Also my shadow.¡± She replied with a smirk. ¡°She¡¯ll be coming along, too.¡±


    Both Magdalene and the maid traded confused glances with each other and then with Sheilah.


    The soldiers exclaimed over her pile of wolf furs; they named it as a Mist Prowler, or a Fog Wolf. They were notoriously difficult to kill, and the fact that she had a mound of cured hides instantly earned their respect. They were likewise impressed with the crystalline antlers; apparently the deer were impossible to hunt.


    Sheilah pondered their words briefly; the deer required patience, but the wolves were, as they said, difficult. The difference between them was only that she had the power of the Dragon.


    They were extremely happy with the discovery of the pond, and happily led their horses to drink.


    Sheilah introduced Fialla to her mother, which elicited a strange reaction from the latter. She stiffened, her blue eyes became hard, brittle chips of ice.


    ¡°You did not say your ¡®shadow¡¯ was an elf, Sheilah.¡± Magdalene offered coldly.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Shailah asked indifferently. ¡°We grew up together.¡±


    Fialla bobbed her head, rested her spear in the crook of her neck and offered her hand in the manner of the Dragon clan.


    Magdalene stared at the girl¡¯s extended hand like it was a viper.


    ¡°It¡¯s a greeting. You¡¯re supposed to take her hand.¡± Sheilah offered helpfully, though it was obvious to Magdalene that Sheilah was distracted, her attentions focused elsewhere.


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    Magdalene grimaced and took the girl¡¯s hand. It was warm, dry and strong. Like Sheilah¡¯s hand, it was dry and tough, with callouses.


    ¡°I kind of imagined your mother would be taller.¡± Fialla joked to Sheilah, and then waved her free hand over her head. ¡°Maybe you get it from your father?¡± She asked.


    She looked up at Magdalene and frowned a little. ¡°Could you not look at me like that?¡±


    Magdalene seemed to catch herself. ¡°Ah, forgive me. It¡¯s just... there are ... elven problems... in Stormheim right now.¡±


    Fialla¡¯s eyes immediately narrowed at that. ¡°There are no Wild Elves in Stormheim.¡± She replied coolly. ¡°Do not think of me as the same as Dark or High Elves. I will be offended.¡± She looked up at Sheilah. ¡°Think of me as Sheilah¡¯s little sister and we should get along.¡± She added helpfully.


    ¡°...sister.¡± Magdalene muttered, and Fialla nodded.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been that way since the beginning.¡± Fialla offered. ¡°She was the one that taught me how to hunt properly.¡±


    ¡°That was your family, idiot.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°You learned how to make your kills from them.¡±


    ¡°No, that was you. I learned by watching you.¡± Fialla urged.


    ¡°Yeah well, you killed a dragon before me, so we¡¯re on equal footing.¡± Sheilah disputed, ignoring Magdalene.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one that killed a Tyrant.¡± Fialla argued. ¡°You¡¯re still ahead.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a dragon?¡± Magdalene asked, trying to keep up with the conversation.


    Sheilah and Fialla eyed each other.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had to explain what a dragon is to someone who doesn¡¯t know what they are.¡± Fialla offered lamely.


    ¡°Me either.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°Draw it, maybe?¡± Fialla offered with a shrug.


    Sheilah nodded.


    Fialla used the butt of her spear to draw a series of sinuous lines in the dirt.


    ¡°It¡¯s a very large... beast?¡± Sheilah offered as Fialla drew. She couldn¡¯t think of any other words to use, and to call it a monster would be blasphemous, to name it as a Totem in front of people from Stormheim sacrilege. ¡°It breathes fire, and is the absolute pinnacle of everything.¡± she added in a voice that was edged in reverence.


    ¡°How... big... is this beast?¡± Magdalene asked in a concerned voice.


    Fialla blinked, and looked around for something she could use as a scale.


    ¡°The one Sheilah killed was... about as long as...¡± She trailed off in thought. ¡°From the rearmost carriage to... over there, perhaps?¡± She gestured with her spear. ¡°It could swallow a horse whole.¡± She shrugged. ¡°The one I hunted was much smaller. It could only swallow me.¡± She offered.


    ¡°You... hunt these things?¡± Magdalene asked, horrified.


    Fialla and Sheilah traded looks and shrugged.


    The soldiers began returning, lugging barrels of water and leading horses.


    ¡°How long will it take to get to Stormheim?¡± Sheilah asked Magdalene.


    ¡°About six weeks, give or take.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°It¡¯s not a very comfortable trip, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks again. In this forest, where water and food was plentiful and the land wasn¡¯t as harsh and unforgiving as the Redstone, how difficult could it be?


    ¡°This is not very comfortable.¡± Fialla opined to Sheilah as the carriage lurched into motion.


    Sheilah nodded in agreement. She peeked out the window and noted the crawling pace they were making.


    ¡°It¡¯s not particularly fast, either.¡± Sheilah observed, and elbowed Fialla. ¡°Do you think we should go ahead?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unthinkable.¡± Magdalene retorted. ¡°The Princess of Stormheim cannot go anywhere unaccompanied.¡±


    Sheilah glanced significantly at Fialla, which made Magdalene frown.


    ¡°A proper retinue is needed.¡± her mother explained.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, and you¡¯re not explaining it.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I am capable of seeing to myself, and even if I weren''t, I have Fialla at my side. She has always been there to catch me when I fall.¡±


    Magdalene sighed and rubbed her forehead. ¡°Things might have been different where you grew up, but in Stormheim, how you are seen by others is critical.¡± She gestured with her hands. ¡°If you dress and behave like a savage, then all they will see is a savage. If you are seen as a princess, then you will be treated as a princess.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m a savage.¡± Sheilah mused, and looked at Fialla. ¡°I don¡¯t think this was a very good idea.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Do you think we should go back home?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m beginning to think we should.¡± Sheilah replied warily.


    Magdalene tsked under her tongue. ¡°I did not mean that you- either of you- are a savage.¡±


    ¡°We dress and behave like savages, though, right?¡± Fialla asked.


    Magdalene sighed forcefully. ¡°That is not what I said.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks again.


    ¡°You- I suppose the both of you- will need to be educated so that you can become proper adults.¡±


    Fialla snorted at that. ¡°She doesn¡¯t understand.¡± She remarked to Sheilah, who nodded.


    Magdalene gave them both a confused look. ¡°What is it that I don¡¯t understand?¡±


    Sheilah let out her own sigh, and reached towards the sword that was propped against the side of the carriage. She picked it up and laid it across her lap.


    ¡°When you grow to the point where you can no longer be a child, you ...¡± she paused, uncertain as to how much she could tell Magdalene, especially in front of a complete stranger. ¡°You take ... your weapons, and you hunt a dragon.¡±


    She paused again, searching for the right words. ¡°When you return, you are an adult, with all the responsibilities it entails.¡± She unsheathed her sword partway and laid it across her lap. ¡°This blade is proof that I am already an adult.¡±


    She looked up at Magdalene. ¡°When you speak of me as a child, when you speak to me like I¡¯m a child, to me that¡¯s a step backward.¡± She paused again, searching for the right words.


    She took a breath and firmed her voice. ¡°I will allow you to talk to me as a mother to her daughter, but I will not allow you to speak to me as a child.¡± She pushed the half-unsheathed blade back into the scabbard with a click.


    There was a long silence then, as Magdalene digested this.


    ¡°Very well.¡± She stated after a long consideration. ¡°It¡¯s not too far of a stretch to do this.¡± She nodded to herself. ¡°You¡¯ll still need an education, especially in language. It¡¯s a mess.¡± Her gaze shifted to Fialla. ¡°Something will need to be done about you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving her side.¡± Fialla immediately announced.


    ¡°I imagine not.¡± Magdalene replied.

 Chapter 43

    The first night on the trip to Stormheim, Magdalene and her maid sat awkwardly around the small campfire that Sheilah and Filla had kindled, struggling with their meal. It was obvious to them that neither Sheilah nor Fialla had any problems with their food, though they gingerly tasted the bowls of porridge carefully before eating it quickly, alongside meat, fruits, and some nuts they¡¯d gathered from the forest.


    Magdalene flinched a little every time one of the girls cracked a nutshell with their teeth; their behavior seemed nearly feral.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask this just for confirmation, but you are my daughter, right?¡± Magdalene asked, interrupting a conversation the two girls were having in low voices.


    Sheilah looked at her speculatively for a moment, and then glanced at Fialla, and then back to Magdalene. She adopted a pensive look, and then she smiled predatorily, displaying those bestial teeth.


    ¡°What makes you ask that?¡± She asked curiously.


    Magdalene pressed her lips together. ¡°The people of Stormheim- those of the bloodlines that comprise the royal family, certainly- have light hair and eyes.¡± she stated, fingering her own pale locks. ¡°I cannot reconcile that with a dark-haired daughter.¡±


    Sheilah shared looks with Fialla again.


    ¡°Will you tell her?¡± Fialla asked quietly.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like I have a choice.¡± Sheilah replied back, just as quietly.


    ¡°But she¡¯s not-¡± Fialla objected.


    ¡°I know.¡± Sheilah replied, cutting her off.


    Fialla subsided, albeit sulkily. ¡°That other one, though- she doesn¡¯t need to hear, at least.¡± Fialla griped. ¡°Send her away.¡±


    Sheilah turned part of her attention back to Magdalene. Well, it wasn¡¯t like she had stopped paying attention to Magdalene, it was just- she seemed to be able to pay attention to several things at once, independently of each other.


    ¡°Send her¡± she gestured at Magdalene¡¯s maid, ¡°away. There¡¯s no reason she needs to hear this.¡±


    Magdalene frowned. ¡°She¡¯s my maid, and her family has served mine faithfully for many years. She has my absolute trust.¡±


    Sheilah sent a baffled look to Fialla- what was a maid? She still didn¡¯t understand what that was. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Is she family?¡± She asked.


    Magdalene gave Sheilah a frustrated look. ¡°She¡¯s not family, she¡¯s a maid.¡± Magdalene replied testily.


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks of confusion between each other.


    ¡°If she¡¯s not family, then she doesn¡¯t need to be a part of this conversation.¡± Fialla suggested, and Sheilah turned back to Magdalene.


    ¡°Just so.¡± She agreed. ¡°Family matters stay within the family.¡±


    Magdalene inclined her head to Fialla. ¡°Then that one- she should leave as well.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s my sister.¡± Sheilah immediately rebutted. ¡°Besides, she shares the same-¡± She paused, and looked to Fialla. ¡°Trait?¡± She asked. ¡°Would that be the right word?¡± She asked curiously.


    Fialla shrugged. ¡°I think so?¡± She half-asked.


    Sheilah¡¯s expression firmed. ¡°Regardless, she leaves.¡± she gestured towards Magdalene¡¯s maid, who hadn¡¯t introduced herself at all the entire time they¡¯d spent together.


    Magdalene sighed. ¡°Go back to the carriage and wait for me, Andrea.¡± She ordered in a tired voice.


    The girl nodded, but looked fearfully out at the darkness.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where it is, Your Majesty.¡± She worried.


    Sheilah and Fialla exchanged looks again, but Fialla stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll show you the way.¡± She offered drily, contempt in her voice.


    After the maid- Andrea- was out of earshot, Sheilah held out her hand, calling attention to her nails, which were glossy black, and sharp.


    ¡°My Clan is the Clan of the Dragon.¡± She explained, picking her words carefully. ¡°When you hunt... them...¡± she decided to avoid revealing too much about the rites of drinking their blood and eating their hearts- that was ritual, that was important, and outsiders- especially Stormheim- didn¡¯t need to know about it. ¡°...you start to take on a little of their characteristics.¡± She finished. ¡°For Fialla and I, it¡¯s hair and nails. They turn this color because of the Dragon.¡±


    Magdalene gave her outstretched hand a contemplative look.


    ¡°Further, I¡¯ll explain what my father- what Davian- told me about myself.¡± She offered, and relayed everything that Davian had told her- that Davian had brokered a removal of Stormheim¡¯s influence from the Redstone, and that Sheilah had been offered as a hostage to guarantee it.


    ¡°I wish-¡± Magdalene muttered in a bitter, forlorn voice, ¡°that there was at least some part of you that remembered me.¡± She complained. ¡°As it stands now, you are completely-¡± She bit off what she was going to say, and wiped her tears.


    She took a breath. ¡°You¡¯re going to need to be taught everything- everything you need to know- in two years.¡± She complained, and then looked towards the direction that Fialla had gone. ¡°And that one-¡± She broke off and shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to begin with that one.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a flat look, and repeated herself- again- to Magdalene.


    ¡°She¡¯s my sister.¡±


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    Magdalene rubbed her forehead. ¡°Elves are not welcome in Stormheim. They are not liked or respected. The Dark Elves have been a complete nuisance to everyone, and have made sure that they are hated.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a confused look. ¡°Why not simply kill them?¡±


    Magdalene sighed. ¡°Because if we do, it¡¯s an excuse for them to invade us. We don¡¯t have the money or the resources to fight them off. Even if we could do so, the High Elves would make sure any victory was a short-lived one.¡±


    Magdalene¡¯s head came up. ¡°Can you use magic?¡± She suddenly asked. ¡°Can that one?¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s distracted, indifferent look suddenly focused completely on Magdalene, and the older woman shivered, and all at once found it difficult to breathe as her spine turned to ice.


    ¡°That one has a name. Fialla.¡± She corrected as the fire suddenly guttered. ¡°She is my sister.¡± She stated firmly. She held her mother¡¯s gaze with her own. ¡°Acknowledge it.¡±


    It might have been some trick of the light, but it seemed as though the campfire was reflected in Sheilah¡¯s eyes. Tight bands seemed to have locked around Magdalene¡¯s chest, an icy hand gripped her heart.


    ¡°I-¡± She gasped, barely able to speak. ¡°I-¡± She tried again. ¡°She-¡± She whispered, and some distracted, terrified part of her worried she was going to pass out, soil herself, or both.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She wheezed.


    Her chest unhitched; the icy hand vanished as if it had never been there, and she was suddenly able to breathe normally.


    Sheilah shifted where she sat, shooting a complicated look down at the dragon-tooth sword she wore. Compared to the lengths of the normal blades the Dragons used, it was unnecessarily long, and so it was always banging against her leg, and it made everything difficult. Sitting, standing, walking, all of it was suddenly awkward to do because the blade was so long.


    ¡°We can¡¯t use magic.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°We¡¯ll die if we try.¡±


    Magdalene gave her a baffled look at that. ¡°That¡¯s- that¡¯s not how that works, at all.¡± She disputed as Fialla returned. ¡°Either you can, or you can¡¯t use magic.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head at that. ¡°We can discuss that later,¡± she disputed, ¡°but I¡¯m tired. And hungry again.¡±


    Fialla chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re always hungry.¡±


    ¡°I think I have a reason to be.¡± Sheilah argued back.


    Fialla handed over a small bundle of rations. ¡°True enough. Here, a last taste of home, Sheilah.¡± She offered quietly.


    ¡°We¡¯ll eat it together.¡± Sheilah decided, and the two of them moved away from the fire, unintentionally leaving Magdalene to find her own way back to her carriage.


    ¡°Sheilah, I think we need to have a serious talk.¡± Fialla remarked as they ate rations made in the Redstone.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°All right. I¡¯m listening.¡± She replied, and focused most of her attentions on Fialla.


    ¡°Are you seriously going to live in Stormheim?¡± The half-elf asked with a concerned look. ¡°I don¡¯t like them. The way they look at you- the way they look at me- their attitudes- even their smells.¡± She let out a breath. ¡°Your own mother- if she even is your mother- looks at you with such contempt. Like she¡¯s somehow better than you. She needs help to shit in a box.¡± She spat. ¡°Let¡¯s ditch them. Let¡¯s just go.¡±


    ¡°Go where?¡± Sheilah asked. ¡°Back to the Redstone?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°Yes! Or somewhere else, just away from them!¡± Fialla exclaimed hotly.


    Sheilah fingered a bit of the crumbly ration bar in her hand. ¡°And if that brought Stormheim back to the Redstone?¡± She asked curiously.


    ¡°So now we have to go?¡± Fialla demanded petulantly.


    ¡°Hmmm.¡± Sheilah muttered in thought, as Fialla produced a leather waterbag Sheilah hadn¡¯t seen before.


    ¡°Here.¡± Fialla proffered.


    Sheilah took it and frowned at the smell of alcohol.


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± She asked, taking a sip of the unfamiliar drink. It was made from an unfamiliar fruit, wasn¡¯t particularly strong, but tasted good.


    ¡°It was in their carriage.¡± Fialla replied.


    Sheilah took a longer drink, and then passed it back to her sister.


    ¡°I want to see them. I¡¯ll try to live with them for a time.¡± She decided. ¡°I¡¯m going to see them with my own eyes.¡±


    Fialla drank, then, deeply. ¡°And what else?¡± She asked.


    Sheilah smiled, showing teeth. ¡°What¡¯s the first lesson in hunting? Wait. Watch the prey. Wait for the best moment to loose the arrow.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll kill them?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°If I have to.¡± Sheilah replied, spreading her hands. ¡°But first, I have to know them. I have to make sure the choice is the right one.¡± She finished, and wordlessly gestured for the skin of wine.


    Fialla passed it back.


    ¡°Davian told me of Stormheim. Your father- and the mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers told us all about Stormheim- what they did, what they can do.¡± Sheilah explained. ¡°But he also told me that I am a Stormheim. That their First Blood runs through my veins.¡± She added after taking a long drink. ¡°So,¡± she patted her chest, ¡°I have to know them, I have to make sure.¡±


    Fialla took a long breath.


    ¡°Okay, so how long are you going to put up with them?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°A day at a time.¡± Sheilah decided. ¡°And the day I can¡¯t take it anymore, I¡¯ll leave.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s not spend the entire trip stuck in that tiny box.¡± She stated, notes of displeasure in her voice.


    Sheilah laughed at that.


    *****


    Fialla and Sheilah eyed the city as it came into view from atop the carriage. Weeks had gone by at an agonizing crawl.


    ¡°So that is a place where legends go to die.¡± Sheilah muttered, drawing Fialla¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Fialla asked, eyes roaming over the walls and turrets.


    ¡°Something father told me. He said that the people of Stormheim were once tribesmen like us. They came together, forgetting their stories and traditions, and made this city. They don¡¯t even remember where they come from.¡± Sheilah explained.


    ¡°What a terrible thing.¡± Fialla agreed.


    ¡°Father says it will happen to the Redstone, eventually.¡± Sheilah replied, and explained what Davian told her.


    ¡°What a horrible thought.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°Hopefully the Dragon is the tribe that survives.¡±


    Sheilah bit her lip. ¡°As Dragons, it¡¯s our right to rule. But we cannot allow the Tyrant in our blood to demand the other clans abandon their ways, their stories, their heroes.¡±


    Fialla nodded, though in her heart she wanted the Dragon to rule forever.


    ¡°Magdalene says this city has Dark Elves in it.¡± Sheilah mused. ¡°That they demand subservience in the name of the High Elves.¡±


    Fialla barked a laugh. ¡°Dark elves die the same way that anything dies.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°Attacking the Dark elves will invite war between Stormheim and the Elves. Right now, elves hold the upper hand. Trying to stab someone while standing in a Hive Lizard nest accomplishes nothing. It¡¯s important to pick the battleground.¡± She laughed, then. ¡°But if a High Elf shows up, however, I will do what my father did, and burn their faces off.¡±


    Fialla burst out laughing. ¡°I knew there was a reason I chose you as my sister.¡±


    Sheilah waved her hands to embrace the city. ¡°This is our new Clan, Fialla. My family is the ruling Tribe. We will protect our Clan.¡±

 Chapter 44

    ¡°Now that we¡¯re in sight of the city, get down from there.¡± Magdalene called up from inside the carriage. ¡°It¡¯s important that we get you into the castle without being seen by the Dark Elves. Myself as well. We can¡¯t let them know you¡¯re here until the right time.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks, but slipped inside the carriage. Although it was meant to sit six people comfortably, it still felt stuffy and cramped with the four of them inside.


    Part of it was the pile of weapons; Fialla wasn¡¯t willing to let anyone touch her spear, or pack it away, so it slanted at a weird angle. Sheilah¡¯s bow took up a spot on the floor, as well as her quiver and sword. Sheilah and Fialla sat comfortably together, but Magdalene and her maid Andrea sat uneasily together, forced into uncomfortable closeness by Fialla¡¯s spear.


    Part of it was the awkward silences that permeated the air when it came to Magdalene¡¯s conversation gambits falling flat.


    Sheilah and Fialla didn¡¯t have any problem talking with each other; they shared stories and amusing anecdotes with each other, making references and allusions to stories that they¡¯d been told growing up.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s time for Kellia and Sellia¡¯s-¡± Fialla cut herself off and glanced at Magdalene and Andrea- ¡°you know?¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°Certainly not. I doubt they¡¯ve even-¡± She paused, and touched her necklace. Fialla nodded, absently touching her own.


    ¡°The both of you keep trying to speak cryptically, but you¡¯re making it too obvious.¡± Magdalene observed drily.


    ¡°Do you know what we¡¯re talking about, then?¡± Fialla asked curiously.


    ¡°Not really.¡± Magdalene replied easily. ¡°But I know it¡¯s important. Will you tell me?¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re not a Dragon.¡± she replied dismissively.


    Magdalene frowned at that, and Andrea studiously stared at her hands, waiting to be called on.


    ¡°Those... beasts?¡± Magdalene asked, curiously. ¡°The one you talked about before?¡±


    Fialla made a face, but Sheilah patted the girl on the knee. ¡°We can talk about that later.¡± Sheilah replied to Magdalene¡¯s question.


    ¡°Your language is atrocious.¡± Magdalene complained.


    ¡°It¡¯s just fine.¡± Sheilah disputed. ¡°We don¡¯t really speak the Stornheim tongue often, but we learn it.¡±


    Thorfin rode close and warned that they were approaching the gate.


    ¡°The Clans don¡¯t really have a name for their tongue, but there¡¯s an ancient form, and there¡¯s the normal tongue, and then there¡¯s also the Stormheim tongue we¡¯re taught as kids.¡± Sheilah repeated.


    ¡°Well, you said that Stormheim was the enemy. Why would you learn-¡± Magdalene began, but cut herself off and rolled her eyes. ¡°Either way, your language is atrocious, and you¡¯ll need a tutor.¡± She folded her hands as they moved through the commoner districts.


    Sheilah and Fialla eyed the buildings and streets curiously, shops and stalls, inns and smithies and watched as those all disappeared as they moved further into the city.


    ¡°Not looking forward to seeing those damnable elves.¡± Magdalene remarked pensively, and Fialla¡¯s gaze sharpened.


    The Queen of Stormheim glanced at Fialla¡¯s growing anger whenever she mentioned the elves. ¡°How do you feel about Dark Elves?¡±


    Fialla looked up at the queen. ¡°They liked to kill my people for sport.¡± She snarled. ¡°My uncle- my father¡¯s brother- was tortured for a bet.¡±


    Magdalene covered her face and sighed. ¡°Then you especially need to be hidden. We can¡¯t have you killing them, and we can¡¯t have them killing you, either. Follow Andrea through the maid entrance. I¡¯ll be behind you shortly.¡±


    Fialla chuckled darkly. ¡°You don¡¯t need to kill them to teach them to leave you alone.¡±


    Magdalene muttered an oath under her breath, but apparently Andrea heard it; her eyes widened briefly, in surprise.


    ¡°Thorfin, take us ¡®round to the servant¡¯s access.¡± Magdalene ordered. ¡°We¡¯ll let Andrea and the two girls off there. Load them up with the wolf pelts. Andrea will lead them in while you take me in through the front.¡±


    She locked eyes with the maid, and passed her an ornate key. ¡°Take them to the apartments- use the service passages. Try to make sure they¡¯re not seen. I don¡¯t know if any of the servants have been bought off- I pray to the Sun and the Storm that they haven¡¯t- but all the same, it¡¯s best that they aren¡¯t seen yet.¡±


    Andrea nodded, and looked to the girls, who were listening. ¡°You two will follow, yes?¡± She asked, and Sheilah nodded. A moment later, Fialla nodded as well.


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    The carriage came to a halt, Sheilah and Fialla scooped up their weapons as Andrea piled on the wolf pelts until they were sufficiently weighed down and covered, then she took the lead.


    They took servant passages and empty hallways, following the dark-haired, dark-eyed maid while carrying their luggage. The maid was clearly unhappy with Sheilah, and by extension, Fialla, carrying their own luggage, but given a choice between disputing the matter and potentially getting spotted or letting them do as they wanted, it was simply easier in the moment to bow to expediency.


    They were led through a number of extremely narrow twisting passages, crossed much larger corridors that seemed large enough to accommodate dozens of people only to enter more narrow passages, climbing steadily upwards until they arrived at another corridor, this one ending with prominent and heavy doors that were opened to reveal another set of doors that were much narrower, but just as tall.


    Andrea used the key on those doors and ushered the two girls inside. The maid explained to them that when Sheilah had been born, a whole suite of rooms had been prepared for her to use as she¡¯d grown up, but they¡¯d lain unused while she remained in the custody of Davian.


    For Sheilah and Fialla, the rooms were ridiculously expansive. They were huge enough to host an entire tribe with room to spare. Each room was dedicated to specific functions, too. What was a ¡®kitchen¡¯?


    Even if they were overzealous in their size, they all had one thing in common; the nearly oppressive feel of abandonment. The rooms had been cleaned of dust and dirt, the carpets had been cleaned and the tapestries beaten, all the furniture had been polished, but even so, there was the sense that the rooms had seen long years of neglect.


    Her balcony that was accessible by several of her rooms, wrapped around part of the upper edge of the castle. It had a view of the city and the mountains that butted up against it to the north. When she leaned over the railing on one side, Sheilah could spy the very edge of a river that the city depended on.


    Sheilah and Fialla went out on the balcony after unceremoniously dropping their bedrolls and mounded pile of Mist Wolf pelts onto the massive bed, big enough to sleep Sheilah¡¯s entire family.


    Sheilah looked up after looking out curiously, and frowned at her half-elf companion. ¡°It¡¯s not nearly high enough.¡±


    Fialla burst into laughter at that, but nodded. She turned and pointed up, and Sheilah eyed the stone blocks that went up and up above their balcony.


    ¡°Looks easy enough to climb.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a feeling like the Mother Tyrant.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I¡¯ll never be satisfied until I can see everything beneath me.¡±


    Fialla laughed again and nodded.


    ¡°...climb, My Lady?¡± Andrea asked in a confused voice, looking up where Fialla pointed.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°It certainly looks easy enough.¡± She looked at the maid, who was covering her mouth with her hands. ¡°What¡¯s at the top?¡±


    The maid gave her a baffled look that turned alarmed as Sheilah took off her gloves and tucked them behind her belt.


    ¡°Princess, please don¡¯t-¡± She began, but cut herself off as Sheilah elbowed Fialla.


    ¡°Race you to the top.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d best not be a sore loser.¡± was Fialla¡¯s reply.


    ¡°You mustn¡¯t!¡± the maid blurted, causing the two girls to turn to the woman.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Fialla asked curiously, eyeing the maid and Sheilah.


    ¡°It¡¯s just- it¡¯s just not done.¡± The maid stammered.


    Sheilah and Fialla eyed each other, and then looked up at the stone walls.


    ¡°It certainly looks safe enough.¡± Sheilah remarked thoughtfully.


    ¡°Definitely easier than the Redstone.¡± Fialla agreed.


    ¡°And the cliffs in the Ashlands.¡± Sheilah pointed out.


    Fialla nodded at that. ¡°And no dragons to worry about.¡±


    Suddenly, Sheilah stiffened and turned to look into the rooms beyond. ¡°Someone¡¯s here.¡±


    She hurried back into the bedroom, picked up her bow and a fistful of arrows, and nocked one. She lowered her center of gravity as she drew the arrow to her cheek and Fialla scooped up her spear.


    ¡°A bow, in these rooms?¡± Fialla offered skeptically.


    ¡°Oh, hush. It was you that pointed out that I wasn¡¯t good enough with the sword, Fialla.¡± Sheilah complained, and gestured to the door that led into the connecting rooms.


    As Fialla moved towards the door, it opened and Magdalene walked in. She eyed the two girls with some alarm, and then put her hands on her hips.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the correct way to receive guests, you know.¡± The older woman admonished.


    Fialla and Sheilah traded glances, and Sheilah lowered her bow and tucked the arrow away, rising from her crouch.


    ¡°There are plenty of rooms here.¡± She observed, leaning her bow against a couch. ¡°Which one is mine?¡± Sheilah asked. Taking her lead, Fialla settled her spear and leaned on it.


    Magdalene let out a sigh. ¡°Come with me- and leave the weapons.¡± She instructed.


    Sheilah rested her hand on her sword and wondered if she needed to leave that as well. However, it was a sign of her heritage, a reminder of where she had come from that she was loath to let go.


    After a long moment of frustrated debate, she straightened. ¡°I am ready.¡±


    Magdalene eyed the sword and frowned. ¡°You will not need that.¡± She replied.


    Sheilah frowned back at her. ¡°Show me what needs to be seen, and then I will explain why I cannot leave it.¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°Agreed- for now. But you will need to learn that a princess does not go about armed.¡± She gestured for the two girls to follow her.


    ¡°I would think that with Dark Elves around, everyone would go about armed.¡± Fialla remarked to Sheilah.


    ¡°You say that, but are they really monsters?¡± Sheilah asked curiously in a low voice to Fialla as she followed Andrea and Magdalene.


    The smaller girl nodded fiercely, her eyes set and determined.


    She touched Sheilah¡¯s hand. ¡°You don¡¯t know because you haven¡¯t been told, so I¡¯ll explain later.¡± she replied in an equally low voice.

 Chapter 45

    Magdalene explained after Sheilah¡¯s hushed conversation with Fialla that somehow all of the rooms beyond the great doorway were hers.


    Sheilah¡¯s head swam as the older woman explained that there were rooms set aside for cooking, a separate one for eating, and yet others for reading, for receiving guests, for studying, for bathing, for drying, for dressing, and that her clothes were to be stored in a room big enough to serve as the communal space for her family back in the Redstone.


    Further, it was explained that servants- strangers- would tend to her kitchen, cleaning, laundry, and other ¡®menial¡¯ tasks, and had their own separate living spaces in all of these rooms.


    Another discontinuity. Anyone in the Dragon Clan could do anything, from running the forge to scraping leather to washing clothes to hunting, to working in the farm. In order to stand above the rest, it was necessary to be able to do anything.


    ¡°... how many... servants will there be in this place that is supposed to be mine?¡± Sheilah asked awkwardly.


    Magdalene gave her a confused look, and glanced to Andrea.


    ¡°At least fifty, all told.¡± She replied. ¡°Though, that can change, depending on the circumstances.¡±


    Magdalene gave an indifferent shrug- she didn¡¯t pay much attention to the comings and goings of the servants in her estates herself, and left the management of servants to her attendants, who oversaw them for her.


    Sheilah traded looks with Fialla. A Tribe in the Redstone, regardless of Clan, was roughly twenty tents- twenty families. The amount of ¡®servants¡¯ that were to live in this vast collection of rooms was enough to make up a somewhat large tribe, and all of them were there to serve... her.


    Well, her and Fialla.


    Sheilah and Fialla were dizzied. The entire apartments were enough to house a tribe, and they were all for her?


    ¡°What an extravagant waste of space.¡± Fialla muttered to Sheilah, who nodded. They only needed a small room with a bed and a fire.


    ¡°Where do we hunt? Where do we fetch water?¡± Fialla asked cautiously.


    ¡°Hunt? Water?¡± Magdalene asked, puzzled, and then she worked it out. ¡°Ah. Your servants will prepare your meals, bring refreshments, and clean your things.¡±


    She gestured to Andrea.


    ¡°She- Andrea- her family has served ours for generations. She¡¯s the third daughter of a Viscount. From now on, she¡¯ll be managing the servants in your apartments.¡± Magdalene added. Andrea gave her a startled look, but bowed her head.


    ¡°Given the circumstances, we have to manage Sheilah¡¯s appearances carefully.¡± Magdalene explained to Andrea. ¡°We need to accomplish a lot in a very short amount of time, and I need someone I can trust, Andrea.¡±


    Andrea nodded. ¡°As you say, my Lady.¡±


    Sheilah rubbed the palm of her hand over the pommel of her sword as she worried in thought. A family¡¯s weapons belonged to the family. There were no explicit rules, but... only family members handled family weapons. For her it was doubly important- Nobody could touch them, except for her. Only she could clean them. She was the only member of her family here in this foreign place.


    ¡°Would you stop doing that?¡± Magdalene complained, exasperated. ¡°I¡¯ve been tolerant of it so far, but a line has to be drawn somewhere.¡±


    Fialla eyed Sheilah, who returned the look.


    Sheilah sighed. ¡°I will try to explain it.¡± She replied to Fialla¡¯s unasked question.


    She glanced around; was there a place where they could sit, or was it more appropriate to sit on the floor?


    She offered the question to Magdalene, who returned a horrified look.


    ¡°Sit? On the floor?¡± She replied, horrified. ¡°There is a sitting room for that.¡± She gestured for the two girls to follow, and she led Sheilah to a ¡°sitting room¡±, who was baffled that there was a room set aside exclusively for sitting.


    Once they were seated around a low table, Sheilah took her sword and long knife from her belt and set them on the table. She added Adlan¡¯s knife as well.


    ¡°So tell me about the sword and why it¡¯s so important to you that you can¡¯t be parted with them for a heartbeat.¡± Magdalene complained.


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    Sheilah fidgeted as she struggled to find the right words.


    ¡°These are mine.¡± She stated, tapping her hand on the hilt of her sword. She struggled to find the right words. ¡°These swords are me. No one can touch them but those that come before... and those that come after.¡± She scratched her head. ¡°It¡¯s a thing of family.¡±


    Magdalene¡¯s face visibly darkened at that, though she said nothing, her expression spoke volumes.


    ¡°Do you have a weapon?¡± Sheilah asked the older woman. ¡°One that has been passed down from father to son, from mother to daughter...¡± She gestured with her hands. ¡°Like that.¡±


    Magdalene shook her head. ¡°A weapon? No.¡±


    Sheilah sighed, and took the knife from her boot. ¡°Father gave me this blade, when I headed- when I went into the Ashlands.¡± She began, trying to find the right words, without revealing Clan secrets. ¡°When I returned and he told me that my mother had given me this knife to protect me, I thought it was something like that. Something like these.¡± She tapped her swords again. ¡°Something passed down from the beginning.¡± She added.


    ¡°When you are too old to fit into the role of a child and need to step into the role of an adult, you take up the weapons of your family, and you go into the Ashlands and you use them to make your kill.¡± She explained. ¡°From there, you craft your own weapon. That weapon is a weapon that your children and grandchildren, and on from there will take with them when it comes time to make their kills.¡±


    She took a breath. ¡°My family, the First Blood, those with the blood of the Dragon going all the way back to the beginning take up the weapons of the family, and sing their songs and tell their stories and remember their heroes.¡± She struggled here.


    ¡°These aren¡¯t just weapons. They aren¡¯t just swords. They are a shared heritage that stretches back through the ancestors.¡± She drew the smaller of the two blades and ran her fingers down the flat of the blade. ¡°Someday, someone that calls me ancestor will take up this blade and add their own story to it.¡±


    She looked up at Magdalene. ¡°Do you understand? I cannot leave this blade for someone who is not my blood to ¡®clean¡¯. This is my history.¡±


    Magdalene¡¯s face grew stony. ¡°You speak of them- those people- as your family, as if your own mother were not sitting across from you!¡± She spat. ¡°Your father is not far from here, and you¡¯ll likely see him this evening!¡± she shouted, rising to her feet. ¡°I carried you! I birthed you! I am your mother!¡± She reached for the sword, but Sheilah moved it away from her grasp easily.


    ¡°This is the weapon you handed down to me, mother.¡± Sheilah replied, pushing the dagger towards Magdalene. ¡°If it meant something to you, if it was something you carried and treasured, then I will carry it with pride.¡± She explained, ¡°But this sword doesn¡¯t carry your history.¡±


    She looked up at Magdalene. ¡°Did this knife mean something to you?¡± She asked.


    Magdalene looked at the dagger, even as her daughter mocked her, insinuating that she was not family to her face. It wasn¡¯t much of a weapon, a thin two-edged dagger with a somewhat large pearl set in the handguard and an aged ivory handle.


    ¡°It was my grandmother¡¯s.¡± She finally explained. ¡°She gave it to my mother when she married, who gave it to me when I married. I¡¯d hoped...¡± she trailed off, and then shook her head, as if coming back to herself. ¡°well, it¡¯s a stupid tradition passed down in my family.¡± added with a negligent wave.


    Sheilah breathed a sigh of relief. There was some common ground for them.


    ¡°Well, it might be unimportant to you, but I¡¯m curious, at least.¡± Sheilah encouraged.


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°A long, long time ago, before my grandmother¡¯s grandmother- or something like that, before Stormheim in fact- this knife was to protect yourself. It was given to women for that purpose.¡±


    Sheilah picked up the aged ivory handle and examined it curiously. She hadn¡¯t bothered before, there had never been any need to do so. In the yellowed ivory there were faint, faded lines carved into it. Loops and curves.


    Fialla reached for it curiously, and also traced her fingers over the lines. ¡°This means something.¡± She murmured.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest idea what it is.¡± Magdalene replied as Fialla passed the blade back to Sheilah. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone does.¡±


    Sheilah raised an eyebrow, and took up her long knife and bared some of the blade. At the base of the blade, carved into the dragon tooth, was the mark of the Tyrant, the First Blood, and then her personal mark. Its twin was carefully marked on the blade of her sword as well.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a family mark.¡± Sheilah remarked, showing the mark of the blade. ¡°This is mine.¡±


    She set down the dragon tooth knife and picked up the knife Magdalene gave her and traced the marks with her fingernails. ¡°This was probably the mark of your family.¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean much, now.¡±


    Fialla spoke up, then. ¡°It could be a family knife, or something like an iron knife.¡±


    Sheilah nodded.


    Magdalene gave her a nonplussed look. ¡°An ¡®iron knife¡¯?¡± She asked.


    Sheilah smiled a little. ¡°In the ancient times, a bride was given a knife made from iron that she could use to kill her husband with, if she felt he¡¯d wronged her. If she did use it, she was allowed to return to her family unmolested.¡±


    Magdalene barked a dry laugh. ¡°I might¡¯ve wanted to use it on Toril, your father, a few times.¡± She remarked.


    Sheilah reached out and set her mother¡¯s knife on the low table, and touched her sword.


    ¡°These carry a story- would you like to hear it?¡± She asked.


    Magdalene hesitated for a moment- she wasn¡¯t terribly interested in hearing about life among savages, but on the other hand, it was a story about her daughter.


    She nodded.


    Sheilah closed her eyes and tried to find a place to begin. ¡°On my thirteenth birthday, I woke up ahead of everyone else...¡± She began.

 Chapter 46

    After Sheilah finished the story of her last year with the Dragon Clan, Magdalene wiped her eye a little. She wished that she¡¯d been there for her daughter- surely she would have comforted her much better than that Davian, would have encouraged her and kept her safe, but- she paused at that.


    Many of the things that Sheilah explained to her- the plants that killed, the flesh-eating insects, the constant need for vigilance against so many different things that were ready for a moment¡¯s lapse, a hint of weakness- those things terrified her, and she wasn¡¯t at all certain that she would be able to keep Sheilah safe from all those hazards.


    She keenly felt Sheilah¡¯s loss of Caidi, the helpless, powerless feeling of being unable to reconcile whether or not she made the right choices. She awed at Sheilah¡¯s dragonling hunts, and shuddered as Sheilah described her fight with the dread Tyrant Dragon. In Sheilah¡¯s descriptions it was a titanic, massive thing that refused to be limited by a paltry concept of ¡®size¡¯.


    It was clear that Sheilah was leaving things out, too. Things she probably felt she needed to keep secret.


    Through it all though, Magdalene realized that it would probably be impossible for Sheilah to become a proper lady. She was a warrior, a fighter, with an inner strength and indomitability that would not fit within the confines of dresses and banquets and socials. This strange, dangerous girl- and she was dangerous, of that there was no mistake- wouldn¡¯t fit in well with Stormheim.


    Magdalene couldn¡¯t even recall what her own fourteenth year was like. Maybe study, or lessons on etiquette with her governess, perhaps. She wasn¡¯t sure.


    By the time they had finished talking, Fialla was a small brown elvish ball curled up in the chair next to Sheilah¡¯s.


    ¡°There are plenty of other stories I could tell you about my family, but it¡¯s getting late.¡± Magdalene concluded, after telling her a story about her own mother, ¡°Since we haven¡¯t yet chosen your servants- or how we¡¯re going to deal with the Dark Elves discovering that you¡¯re here- I¡¯ll have a meal sent up to you.¡±


    Fialla sat up and yawned. ¡°I am very good at dealing with Dark Elves.¡± She replied, and stifled a second yawn.


    Magdalene eyed Fialla carefully. In Sheilah¡¯s tale, the half-elven girl had indeed been Sheilah¡¯s shadow, following her wherever she went.


    ¡°Right now, we can¡¯t do anything to them. If we harm them, it will plunge Stormheim into war- a war we can¡¯t win.¡± Magdalene warned. ¡°For now, we suffer their intolerable presence and try to build up our forces so that we can eject them when the time is fortuitous.¡± She explained. ¡°If a Dark Elf appears, do not attack them.¡±


    Fialla frowned at that.


    ¡°Do not attack them, no matter what they do.¡± Magdalene repeated.


    Magdalene took her leave, and the two girls wandered through Sheilah¡¯s apartments, with Andrea in tow.


    ¡°All of this is our territory?¡± Fialla wondered to Sheilah.


    ¡°All of this is our home.¡± Sheilah corrected. ¡°Though, I suppose that it would be fair to call it a territory, since it¡¯s so large.¡± she replied. ¡°Are you going to carry your spear around?¡±


    Fialla grimaced. ¡°Only until I learn this place.¡± She replied. ¡°Then, I think only my knife should be useful.¡± She looked up at Sheilah. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that.¡± She mused. ¡°These aren¡¯t meant for daily use, right?¡± She asked, patting the pommel of her sword.


    ¡°Did your father say anything about that?¡± the lithe elfin girl asked.


    ¡°He carried Adlan¡¯s sword and his own, when he was in Stormheim¡¯s lands.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I might carry mine the same.¡±


    ¡°Your... mother... might not like that.¡± Fialla replied.


    Sheilah nodded, a distracted look on her face as she carefully eyed every nook and cranny of each room that they passed through.


    ¡°Is there something... that displeases you, My Lady?¡± Andrea the maid piped up behind the two girls.


    Sheilah scrutinized the woman carefully. ¡°These are mine, correct?¡± She confirmed.


    Andrea nodded immediately. ¡°They definitely belong to you, My Lady.¡±


    ¡°Then isn¡¯t it important to learn every part of it?¡± She asked curiously.


    Andrea blinked a couple of times, then took a step back and nodded. ¡°It is as you say, My Lady.¡±


    She followed at a discrete distance as the girls climbed around, crawled under, peeked, prodded, and examined every nook and cranny of each room.


    Suddenly Sheilah straightened and turned back towards the entrance.


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    ¡°Someone¡¯s here.¡±


    Fialla glanced quizzically at Sheilah, but followed the taller girl as she marched towards the door that lead from the study to the hall.


    Andrea followed after, leaving Fialla mystified. The girl scooped up her spear and scrambled after the two and discovered a trio of people dressed similarly, pushing a series of carts with covered trays.


    ¡°Speak, creature.¡± Sheilah demanded, her voice and pitch lower.


    A shiver ran up Fialla¡¯s spine; she could tell Sheilah had directed Supremacy at the intruders. She knew what that felt like, the terror, the feeling of raw panic that crammed the body with fear.


    The three strangers stumbled backwards, one falling on his ass.


    ¡°We- we were asked to bring food-¡± He blurted, but Sheilah had already turned away.


    Sheilah turned away from him, already dismissing him, and eyed Fialla, rings of fire glowing around her irises.


    ¡°You.¡± She stated, her voice cool and yet laced with the sense of cool, cruel authoritarianism. It was a voice that demanded instant submission, but it was Sheilah¡¯s eyes, her eyes that captured and mesmerized and subjugated all that met them.


    ¡°You...¡± She muttered as the light in her eyes flickered. ¡°You...¡± She took a breath. ¡°You need to learn...¡± She struggled with the words.


    Fialla reached into her heart and drew upon her own sense of the Dragon and let it fill her.


    ¡°I will learn, sister.¡± She replied, staring defiantly up at Sheilah as the human girl loomed over her.


    Defiance and overwhelming tyranny warred with each other for a moment, and then Sheilah closed her eyes and took a breath.


    She opened her eyes again, and the thin golden ring was still there, burning, glowing in her eyes. She embraced Fialla and rested her forehead against Fialla¡¯s.


    ¡°Food, little sister.¡±


    Fialla nodded, and looked towards Andrea.


    ¡°Is that not your... job?¡± She asked, stumbling over the unfamiliarity. ¡°Or should I-¡± She began, but Andrea, who had seen the entire thing, immediately stepped forward.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it all, My Ladies. Please retire to the dining hall, and I will bring it to you.¡±


    Fialla nodded and twitched her head at Sheilah, who nodded.


    As they strode to the dining area, Fialla eyed Sheilah. ¡°You seem to have mastered the Dragon much better than last time.¡± She observed, and then blinked. ¡°Back then, too. At the Sigil Stone. You weren¡¯t using the full power of the Tyrant.¡± She lowered her voice. ¡°How did you do it?¡± She asked quietly.


    Sheilah glanced around. ¡°A secret lost.¡± She replied quietly. ¡°It¡¯s...¡± She took a breath, and faced Fialla.


    ¡°I am the Dragon.¡±


    Fialla blinked, confused. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Sheilah rolled her eyes. ¡°If you like, I¡¯ll guide you through it tonight, before bed.¡±


    Fialla nodded.


    The food was delivered, and they eyed each dish curiously, as well as the complicated layout of silverware placed before them.


    Both of the girls looked to Andrea, who sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not my responsibility to teach you how to-¡± She began, but shrugged. ¡°I will teach you what I know.¡±


    She set a place for herself at the table, something she normally wouldn¡¯t be allowed to do, and explained each step.


    Fialla and Sheilah eyed each other and followed along with Andrea¡¯s explanations, working their way through their meal.


    ¡°Will those... servants... intrude on my territory that way again?¡± Sheilah asked bluntly.


    ¡°...that way?¡± Andrea asked, mystified. ¡°...intrude?¡± She asked, confused.


    ¡°They entered my territory without invitation or approval.¡± Sheilah replied.


    Andrea grimaced. ¡°Normally, no.¡± She replied. ¡°Your mother will hire servants, maids, cooks and the like for you who will live here in your apartments to see to your needs.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla eyed each other at this.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I much like this.¡± Fialla decided. ¡°Having strangers in your own home...¡± She shook her head.


    Sheilah nodded with a grimace of distaste. People entering into your home without approval? Living with you? Who did that?


    They ate the rest of their meal in silence, and then resumed their inspection of Sheilah¡¯s apartments, with Andrea trailing after them. This frustrated Sheilah since she was unable to speak freely with Fialla.


    After they were finished with their inspection of all the rooms, they retreated to the bedroom.


    ¡°Good night, My Ladies.¡± Andrea offered, and exited, closing the doors behind her.


    Sheilah and Fialla immediately released sighs, glanced at each other, and smiled.


    ¡°This is going to be very hard.¡± Sheilah finally broke the silence. Fialla nodded.


    Sheilah prowled around the bedroom and examined the bed.


    ¡°I can¡¯t sleep here.¡± She decided, and gathered up the pile of wolf pelts and their bedrolls and put them in the corner of the room.


    ¡°You are the Dragon?¡± Fialla prompted as they undressed for bed.


    ¡°Well, to start, do you think you gathered power from only the Dragon?¡± Sheilah asked, sitting on her bedroll, facing Fialla. ¡°You killed and ate whelplings and dragonlings, too. They¡¯re a part of you as well.¡± She began. ¡°My father pointed it out to me- that I was using the power of the dragon- after I came home.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°Also... The First Blood didn¡¯t subjugate the Dragon within them. They became the Dragon. Your mind and heart and soul, merging forever with the mind, heart and soul of the Dragon that dwells within you.¡± Shelaih explained. ¡°You change.¡± She blinked a few times, and let out a breath she didn¡¯t know she was holding. ¡°I¡¯m no longer the Sheilah you knew, Fialla.¡± She started. ¡°I am... more.¡±


    ¡°That... is forbidden, Sheilah.¡± Fialla growled, rising up, but Sheilah grabbed her arm and yanked her back down.


    ¡°It¡¯s forbidden because they lost the method of doing it correctly.¡± Sheilah snapped. ¡°They forgot how to do it right, those that tried were consumed by the Tyrant, and so it became taboo.¡± She explained flatly.


    She began to teach Fialla, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. After a long time, Fialla¡¯s eyes glimmered faintly in the gloom, too.

 Chapter 47

    In the morning, Sheilah extricated herself from Fialla¡¯s embrace, struggled out from under the mound of furs, dressed in her dragon leather, tucked her weapons in her belt and went to the balcony.


    In the Redstone, the air was dry and crisp in the morning. Here in Stormheim the air was cool, but heavy with moisture. There were so many things she could smell and taste, an intermingled smell of people, animals, leather, sweat, and smoke.


    Sheilah looked up at the castle wall above her balcony. It reminded her strongly of the keep in the Redstone, another Stormheim-built structure with gray stone blocks fitted together neatly.


    She tested her first handhold, and began to climb.


    It was easy to scale the castle of Stormheim, her fingers and shoes finding grips and rests. At first she went straight up, but that was just a short climb to a simple watchtower, and the strange sense of spatial awareness she¡¯d gained from the Tyrant Dragon seemed to imply that the heavy metal-reinforced door that occupied the low end of the Watchtower somehow connected to her apartments. To say it was disappointing was an understatement.


    ¡°What a boring climb.¡± She complained to the morning air.


    She prowled around the high stone walls of the watchtower restlessly, peeking between the gaps in the stone.


    There were other parts of the castle to climb; higher perches to reach. She¡¯d aim for them.


    As she crossed a tiled rooftop, another building came into view that seemed to challenge the size of the castle, a building she knew from description,  the thin, narrow spires of the Cathedral that her father spoke to her about.


    While there were some families that venerated a male-female pair, ¡°the Sun and the Storm¡±, the officially adopted faith of Stormheim was ¡®The Light¡¯, which was theoretically omnipotent, but woefully apathetic.


    Apparently, there had been no recorded miracles or actual actions made by ¡°The Light¡± since the Church was founded. ¡°About as useful as worshiping a rock.¡± Her father had explained to her, and they¡¯d shared a laugh, then.


    According to Davian, they tried to preach about the light in one¡¯s soul, and the need for living righteously and with good character. Anyone could do that, and they didn¡¯t need a ridiculously ostentatious building to do it, but apparently the people of Stormheim felt differently.


    Sheilah continued her climb across the castle, trotting across conical rooftops and scaling walls as she went, some part of her marking the return trip.


    There was some part of the castle with a wall made with small discs of some hard, clear material held in place with metalwork. She could see through it, and inside that area was a room that was crammed with books. Nearly floor to ceiling, filled with books on shelves.


    There weren¡¯t many books in the Redstone, and truth told, they were all owned by Davian. That was interesting to her.


    She wasn¡¯t great at reading, despite her father repeatedly struggling to teach her. She really wanted a chance to try her best and live up to his expectations, and maybe, if she were lucky, she¡¯d have a chance to do so.


    She continued her exploration, unaware of a man with plain gray and brown robes staring up through the library window at her.


    There was a squarish sort of spire that rose up higher than any other part of the castle, and she set her sights on it, scaling up the wall easily, her dragon-leather coat flapping around her in the stiffening breeze.


    A mild sweat had sprung up on her brow; the morning air whisked it away. Her arms ached comfortably, there was a mild twinge in her legs, all signs of a good exertion. More, it felt good to climb. The higher she went, the better she felt, her mood elating as so much of the Stormheim city came into view as she climbed. It felt good to look down on things from on high. The air was brisk and clean where she was at. She took a deep breath into her lungs and closed her eyes.


    This.


    This feeling.


    This sense of being as high as she could go. This is what she¡¯d wanted. Still, she could go higher.


    There was a ledge a little further up; she¡¯d sit there and have a drink from her canteen. She¡¯d take in the view, and after a bit, she¡¯d return to her apartments and have breakfast with Fialla and that Andrea woman.


    As she closed in on the ledge, she spotted something carved into the stone of the castle, some mark. She pulled herself closer and found herself staring straight at a Dragon mark, carved into the stone wall she was climbing.


    She blinked a few times. It was still there. She traced her finger in the grooves carved into the stone. The Great Tyrant. The First Bloodline. The personal mark of her father, Davian.


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    He too had climbed this wall.


    She had no idea how it came to be there- well, it was obvious that he himself had carved it- but she didn¡¯t know the circumstances behind it.


    A great feeling that she could not place a name to swelled in her breast; she closed her eyes and let it fill her.


    Below his mark, with her fingernail, she etched her own mark, carving it into the stone.


    If there was ever a point where she somehow made it back to the Redstone, she would tell him.


    She was there, alongside him, she had seen what he had seen, she had done what he had done.


    That feeling swelled within, threatening to overflow. She threw her head back and gave it a voice.


    ¡°Father, I¡¯m here!¡± She cried.


    ¡°...Sheilah?!¡± A stunned voice called from right above her.


    She jolted and let out a shriek as a shadow suddenly loomed over her.


    She lost her perch, and gravity took hold of her, yanking her down with claws of the inevitable.


    *****


    Toril had gotten up early in the hopes that he could take care of reviewing the paperwork he needed to review in time to give Damiel the slip long enough to meet Sheilah. Magdalene had whispered in his ear all night long about what she was like. She¡¯d been breathless and excited, though she¡¯d tried to hide it.


    There were a lot of roundabout phrases about how she needed to be properly refined as a lady, and how their work would be cut out for them, but still- that excitement- he hadn¡¯t seen it in Magdalene in decades.


    The vague phrases she used to describe Sheilah¡¯s behavior likely meant she really was a Redstone clansman, through and through. He hoped that was the case. He¡¯d wanted that strength, that discipline, that surety of purpose he¡¯d seen in Davian for himself.


    His first two sons were soft, clad in the strength that came from simply being born into power; their deaths weighed on him lightly. The first had died in a provoked fight, he lost his head as quickly as he lost his temper. The second- well, he wasn¡¯t certain whether or not Davian had killed him, but he¡¯d disappeared in the elven lands and the only one that had sailed back had been Davian himself, with shipload after shipload of wild-looking brown elven men, women, and children.


    His third son had died under mysterious circumstances; the too-innocent looks the Dark Elves gave him after his death told the complete story.


    They had two years to instill in Sheilah proper etiquette and manners so that she could pass her social debut without mistake.


    Afterword.... Well, afterword would take care of itself, wouldn¡¯t it?


    Normally there would be no problems at all with crowning her as the princess, educating her in etiquette and manners and cultivating her ability to rule; the problem was that the Dark Elves would be getting in the way, doing whatever they could to interfere in whatever manner they thought best.


    Worse the luck, one of the Dark Elves had dropped out of sight completely. Perhaps that one had somehow caught wind of the plot to bring his daughter back from the Redstone and had decided to assassinate her before she arrived.


    ¡°I just want to see her.¡± He muttered, and picked up his cup of Cliff.


    Cliff was a drink that came from the darklands to the south, a drink brewed from roasted beans. He couldn¡¯t get through a day without it.


    He took a swallow, savored it, and turned to the windows behind his desk.


    He opened the window in time to hear a young woman¡¯s yell, ¡°Father, I¡¯m here!¡±


    He jolted, looking down and right beneath his window was a young woman with glossy black hair and deep blue eyes clinging to the wall outside.


    She looked up and their eyes locked.


    ¡°Sheilah?!¡± He blurted, and her grip slipped and she started to fall.


    He lunged for her and missed her hand entirely. As she fell she kept grabbing at the wall, trying to catch herself as she fell, as if it would do anything.


    That- that couldn¡¯t have been Sheilah. As far as he knew, no one in Stormheim had black hair. His family was known for blonde hair; same as his wife, though her roots were in the Westlands.


    Still, her cry-


    No, it couldn¡¯t have been Sheilah. His daughter wouldn¡¯t climb the outside of the castle like-


    Like Davian had, so long ago.


    His mind whirled, struggling with the conflict as he tried to wrap his mind around the baffling chain of events that led to watching his only daughter and last living heir plummet down the sheer wall of the castle. That couldn¡¯t have been Sheilah, could it?


    *****


    The dragon in Fialla wanted everything to burn. Everything in her dreams was covered in flame. She soared over mountains she¡¯d never been to, through valleys she¡¯d never seen, across plains that stretched all the way to the horizon, and everything burned where her shadow fell. She looked over all that she had wrought, and it was good.


    She woke up to an appetite like she¡¯d spent her whole night using her draconic abilities and guzzled water. It was only after she lowered the waterskin that she realized that she¡¯d woken up alone. Where had Sheilah gotten off to?


    She rubbed her eyes. There was a strange sense of space that she wasn¡¯t used to, as if she was seeing things differently. Her stomach roiled and she shook her head, trying to dispel the nausea that roiled up from her guts.


    She closed her eyes, but could somehow still sense where things were without using them. Was this what Sheilah was doing last night, as she explored her apartments? Somehow... mapping the place with a weird sense of perception that didn¡¯t rely on her senses in the traditional way?


    Her body felt weird, her senses were strange, her mind was filled with all sorts of alien thoughts that made no sense to her.


    She lay back down and hoped that Sheilah would return soon.

 Chapter 48

    Toril was numb with shock. He hadn¡¯t seen Sheilah since she was an infant, but he was certain that the girl that had been just below his study window had been her. He sat in his chair because his legs were numb and rubbery and powerless; he¡¯d just watched someone fall to their death, a girl, clinging to the wall with wiry strength, suddenly losing her grip and plummeting without so much as a scream.


    He hadn¡¯t been able to save her. He¡¯d reached for her hand, but hadn¡¯t been fast enough.


    Sooner or later a report would come to him of a dead girl found splattered all over the gardens, so far below. Or maybe it wouldn¡¯t make it to him.


    He¡¯d have Magdalene look in on Sheilah at breakfast, and maybe his heart would stop hammering in his chest.


    He needed to do something. Anything.


    His heart thundered in his ears, pulsed in his eyes, he felt like he couldn¡¯t breathe.


    He pawed at his desk, but it felt a thousand miles away.


    What if it had been Sheilah?


    What was he supposed to say to Magdalene?


    His head hit the desk and all went dark.


    As Sheilah fell, she scrabbled at the wall to catch herself, but all that she got for her efforts was a faceful of dust and flashes of sparks as her nails scraped and scratched at the stone.


    The blur of receding stone rushed rapidly across her vision; her heart seemed to seize in her chest and her body seemed to relax and go slack in the face of the inevitable.


    Suddenly and without warning, the part of her that was dragon seemed to come forward, a burning heat swelled in her chest and a blast of fire escaped her mouth as her hands slammed into the wall with a strength that terrified her. She couldn¡¯t see through the flames but she could feel the stomach-dropping lurch as she jolted to a stop, could feel her shoulders scream as they strained at the abrupt halt.


    Her vision cleared and she could see her hands had dug into the fitted stone blocks of the castle. Streaks in the stone told the tale of her fingers digging in; sear-marks of black marked where her flame had scorched it.


    She struggled to catch her breath and slow her pounding heart. This had been the very first time she¡¯d ever slipped and fallen like this. She couldn¡¯t ever remember a time when she¡¯d fallen. Dragons were very good at climbing. It was a part of them.


    She tugged her hand free of the stone and could see the bloody lacerations sealing themselves, pushing little chips of stone and dirt out of the wounds.


    She took a breath, and then another, and found her feet. Once her feet were set, she picked her grip, pulled her other hand out of the gouge she¡¯d made, waited for it to heal, and glanced around herself for a place to rest.


    Long, sooty streaks of black marred the walls of the castle; was that from her breath? She tested her hand-and-footholds and began pulling herself up. Her climb would be a long one, and she was unimaginably hungry and tired, but she¡¯d do it. She hurt in places she didn¡¯t realize could hurt, but she¡¯d do it.


    Magdalene was busy. She had so much on her plate. She needed to find servants, cooks, and an instructor she could work with to educate Sheilah in time for her social debut. She needed some way to find out where the Dark Elves were and keep tabs on them so that there weren¡¯t any unexpected interruptions.


    Damiel liked to wander the palace and poke his nose into everything, getting underfoot and in the way. He had no respect for personal boundaries or privacy, either. Artrus apparently cruised around in the common areas of the city, and Eatha... Nobody had actually seen her since they¡¯d arrived. Damiel was the biggest threat and concern, for the moment.


    Magdalene was positive that Sheilah would certainly do something to him the moment he poked his nose into her apartments; she was certain that Fialla would eviscerate him. As thrilling as the idea was to simply kill them and be done with it, Stormheim could ill-afford a war with the elves.


    That made her priority to keep them apart for as long as possible.


    Sheilah climbed into the open window and eyed the older man with his head down on his desk.


    He¡¯d called her by name. Drawing the logical points together and reaching the conclusion, this was Magdalene¡¯s husband- her father.


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    He was tall, about as tall as Davian, but he was pale, and his hair was a dirty yellow, similar to Magdalene¡¯s. While Davian seemed to only get harder and tougher with age, this man seemed to be wan and pale, weak and sickly looking.


    She fingered a lock of her own hair, it was glossy black. It, like her nails, was like all the members of the Dragon Clan.


    The old man stirred, and let out a deep breath.


    Was he like Davian, strong and fearless? Was he like Adlan, wise and thoughtful? What sort of man was he, her mysterious father that had stretched out his hand to catch her when she fell?


    The Dragon was awake and restless within her; the long fall had awakened it in a way that demanded some way of placating it. She needed to eat; whatever it had done to catch her as she fell demanded a full and robust meal.


    Someone was coming. She glanced around, and considered ducking back out the window. The Dragon denied it. It would not hide. It would be acknowledged, appeased to.


    She glanced up. The answer was always up.


    The ceiling was studded with linked crossbeams. A chandelier dangled from one such set of crossbeams.


    She leaped up, catching the wood in her hands, digging her nails in. She swung her weight up, locked her legs around the beam, pulled herself up, and then strode across the beams as a Dark Elf opened the door to the study and strolled in with an energetic ¡°Gooood Morning, King!¡± that was laced with false cheer.


    *****


    ¡°Gooood Morning, King!¡± Damiel greeted as he strode into the King¡¯s study. Toril raised his head from his desk.


    ¡°And look at you, hard at work. Your wife would be pleased, were she here.¡± He added. ¡°Where has she run off to?¡±


    Toril grunted. ¡°Still haven¡¯t mastered the simple civility of knocking, have you?¡± He complained.


    Damiel rolled his eyes theatrically. ¡°You don¡¯t knock when entering a barn filled with livestock, do you? Do you need a horse¡¯s permission to enter the corral?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to die, you know that, don¡¯t you?¡± Toril replied.


    ¡°I can do whatever I want. I have diplomatic immunity, after all. You kill me, and your precious kingdom goes up in ash and flames.¡± Damiel replied.


    A shadow dropped down silently behind Damiel. Toril saw it, but couldn¡¯t understand it.


    ¡°What do you want, elf? I have things to do, and you¡¯re keeping me from them. Like breakfast.¡±


    ¡°As if I didn¡¯t see you napping at your desk when I came in.¡± the Dark Elf replied in dolorous, mocking tones.


    ¡°Leave, elf!¡± Toril demanded, pointing towards the door.


    Damiel shrugged, turned to leave but immediately stumbled backwards, towards Toril¡¯s desk.


    Sheilah dropped down behind the elf silently and watched him with the predatory hunger of the Dragon. She had no idea what to expect with a ¡®dark elf¡¯, but she was wholly unsurprised that, besides the color of their skin, they looked no different from the Wild Elves in the Redstone.


    Here was one that would acknowledge her dominion.


    He turned and she locked eyes with him, stepping forward.


    He stumbled back from her, his terror baking off of him in waves; she could smell the sour scent of terrified sweat and the squirt of urine in his trousers as he soiled himself. In a way, though, it was like he wasn¡¯t even looking at her at all.


    Damiel turned to leave, and suddenly there was a girl right behind him, a girl with eyes of brilliant fury. All he could see was her eyes. She took a step forward and there was a soundless predatory roar that pulsed out of her and drove the breath from his chest, freezing his heart in his chest, driving the sweat from his pores. The cool air was suddenly hot on his skin, as if he stood in a furnace.


    There was a sense that he wasn¡¯t looking at a human girl, but instead, a dreadful, terrifying monster, and then for a moment, he wasn¡¯t even in Toril¡¯s office anymore.


    Magma boiled in some ancient caldera, and some gigantic monster, some demon, some dread dark  nightmare opened its eyes in the hellish pit and saw him through her.


    I see you.


    An alien voice thundered in his skull, and suddenly he saw his home city, a peaceful, serene, beautiful place- until a dread dark shade draped over it, dressing it in furiously boiling flame.


    Countless elves whirled like dying matchsticks in the inferno, their screams stripped from them in endless, purgatorial immolation.


    The atavistic leviathan of flame presided over this holocaust, its massive feet crushing the towers and spires of his city like a child kicking over its toys, its massive tail sweeping the ground, trailing flame, erasing the territories of the Dark elves from the land.


    Their country would burn.


    Their land would burn.


    There would be nothing to remember them, not even ashes to pick through.


    He stumbled backwards from that horrific prophecy, a scream strangling his throat and his legs drenching themselves in piss as he struggled away from that nightmare.


    ¡°I see you.¡± Sheilah repeated, and that¡¯s when he dashed past her and fled the room.

 Chapter 49

    Damiel ran the entire way to the shared apartments of the Dark Elves without thinking, without even seeing the people he passed, every part of his body screaming in unadulterated terror.


    He didn¡¯t even realize where he was until he slammed the door closed and leaned his back against it, gushing sweat, chest heaving with exertion. He slid down the heavy door slowly as he gasped, hot tears streaming down his face as he desperately tried to calm the raging hammer of his heart; the damned thing felt like it was slamming itself desperately against his ribcage in a ridiculous attempt at escape.


    ¡°Any news on my husband?¡± Eatha asked curiously, approaching from the other room.


    Seeing her, recognizing her, helped him recover from his sudden terror.


    What had happened? He¡¯d been teasing the human king and then... what?


    Something had terrified him to the point that he¡¯d fled from the King¡¯s study.


    It was then that he realized that he¡¯d soiled himself at some point and grimaced in disgust. How many of the execrable humans had seen him racing through their halls, drenched in his own sweat and piss?


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard anything.¡± He replied curtly, not wanting her to see him this way, drenched in sweat, rank with the stench of his own piss. He hated how weak and trembly his voice sounded to his own ears.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this.¡± She complained, stepping out into the common hall and eyeing Damiel¡¯s disheveled state with a raised eyebrow. ¡°I already hate it here in these lands; having Artrus disappear on me only makes it worse.¡±


    Damiel grimaced again. ¡°I sent him to follow the humans and observe them; it will take him some time to come back.¡± He replied, repeating what he¡¯d told her before. ¡°Besides, he likes observing the common rabble. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he¡¯d found some human eatery or shop that caught his eye. He¡¯ll come back.¡±


    Eatha sighed, toying with her reddish brown hair. ¡°I want to go home.¡± She complained. ¡°I don¡¯t care about this little game you¡¯re playing with these people. I want to take my husband and go home to where we belong.¡±


    She eyed him again. ¡°You smell disgusting. You should see to yourself.¡± She turned away from him and disappeared back into the apartments they all shared.


    Likely he wouldn¡¯t see her again. She had no love for anything besides her husband, she had no desire at all to participate in their mission, and she staunchly refused to set foot outside of their shared apartments, meaning that the only two elves that were committed to the mission were two out of three of the elves.


    He struggled to his feet again. He was going to take a long bath. Yeah, a hot bath was something that would calm the quaking fear that shuddered in his chest.


    Damiel stumbled towards the bathing room, disliking how his clothes stuck to his body, how his hair was a mess, how slimy and sweaty and disgusting he felt. He stripped off his clothes and filled the tub, lighting the fires under the tub and hating having to do it. None of the maids or servants wanted to have anything to do with the elves, which was all well and good- as it should be- but it made things inconvenient in that they had to do everything for themselves.


    Eatha hated him for that, too.


    After the tub had heated itself up, he climbed in and began scrubbing himself clean, and the familiar routine soothed him, calming him down, slowing his heart, comforting him.


    He settled himself. There weren¡¯t many mages in Stormheim, and none of them were skilled in illusionary magic, so... what had he seen? What happened at that exact moment that caused him to see that dreadful, terrifying monster- that thing of molten fire and light-devouring shadow?


    He¡¯d- He¡¯d taunted the king in his usual, cavalier fashion, turned to leave, and then what?


    I see you.


    He jolted in the tub with a pained cry, his stomach lurching in his guts as he saw that horrific vision again, that monster of brimstone and nightmare turning his home, his city, his nation, his whole people to ash, casually, indifferently... arrogantly.


    He burst into tears and huddled in the tub, weeping, until the fires under the tub went out. He stayed there, even as the water chilled and turned cold against his ebon skin.


    *****


    Toril eyed the girl in front of him. She looked to be about the same age as Sheilah should have been, slim and narrow hipped, a tumble of glossy black hair and deep blue eyes. She wore some sort of leather armor that was a blood-red scarlet with brilliant yellow streaks. Dotted in regular patterns were a series of spots that seemed to glow like embers and coals.


    Davian had worn a similar outfit when he¡¯d met the lad, though it was patterned black and charcoal.


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    ¡°You¡¯re... Sheilah, aren¡¯t you?¡± Toril asked hesitantly to the tanned girl wearing that ostentatious red outfit.


    She nodded with a distracted look, her eyes flicking around the room, as if she were checking for traps or escapes.


    ¡°I¡¯m Toril, I¡¯m your father.¡± He greeted, holding out his arms.


    She eyed the gesture curiously, eyes narrowing a little bit as she scrutinized it, as if she didn¡¯t know what it was or what it meant.


    She turned to the door instead, where the Dark Elf had fled. Toril lowered his arms with a pained expression that she didn¡¯t see.


    ¡°Magdalene said that the Dark Elves were a threat.¡± She stated, and then added, ¡°Yet he seemed... polite.¡± She added as an afterthought.


    Toril frowned. ¡°He keeps egging me on, trying to get me to kill him.¡±


    The girl turned back to him. ¡°If he wants to die so badly, why not oblige him?¡± She asked curiously.


    He gave her a chuckle. ¡°Ohhh, how I would love to do just that.¡± He replied.


    It was obvious to Toril that the girl was distracted, thinking of other things even as she talked with him. He¡¯d seen that sort of look all the time at functions with the nobility- pretending to look bored or disinterested while paying attention. Was it something that Magdalene had taught her?


    ¡°I¡¯d love to strangle him until his eyes bugged out from his head...¡± He began, ¡°but if I did that, elven warships would fill the harbor and we¡¯d be dead in days.¡± His voice was scathing and bitter towards the end. ¡°So I have to put up with his torment until the day when we can fight back.¡±


    He switched tracks. ¡°How did you survive the fall?¡± He asked curiously. ¡°Why did you climb the wall in the first place? That¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    She smiled a little. ¡°Dragons like climbing up to high places.¡± She replied.


    He pointed to a chair. ¡°Sit, sit. Would you like some breakfast?¡± He asked, and she nodded.


    ¡°A lot of breakfast.¡± She urged and he laughed and nodded.


    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± He replied, and gestured to the chair again. ¡°Sit.¡±


    She examined the seat carefully and sat in it cautiously. He raised his voice as he called for a servant; she immediately bolted out of the chair; a long knife appearing in her hand as if by magic.


    ¡°I- uh...¡± He began, and then gestured at the chair again. ¡°It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s okay.¡± He offered, and gestured at the chair again. ¡°Please, sit.¡±


    She sat back down, and he began shifting stacks of papers around. ¡°There¡¯s probably a lot that you¡¯re not used to, yet.¡± He offered. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that the Redstone is a very difficult place to live in.¡± He offered, trying to start a conversation. ¡°Things are a lot different here. You¡¯ll probably have a bit of trouble getting used to all the changes.¡±


    She nodded silently.


    He stopped what he was doing and glanced at Sheilah. ¡°What did you do to scare him like that?¡± He asked.


    Her distracted expression cleared as she focused on him intently. He wanted to squirm under that raptor¡¯s gaze, but he¡¯d been taught from birth to deal with intense and difficult people.


    After a moment, she replied, ¡°I showed him the Dragon.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t certain what that meant, but breakfast would be coming soon, and hopefully there would be time to talk as they ate.


    *****


    Sheilah had watched the man- her father- she corrected herself- hold out his arms in some sort of gesture towards her. Magdalene had tried to do that, too. She wasn¡¯t sure what it was supposed to mean.


    In the Redstone such things were an invitation to embrace, to hug, but such things were usually reserved for new lovers and parents with extremely young children. It wasn¡¯t common to see such things done so casually. She didn¡¯t understand the need here in Stormheim, couldn¡¯t reconcile it.


    Toril and Magdalene might do such a thing in private with each other, but there wasn¡¯t a need for them to hug her, she was an adult.


    As she thought this, she suddenly recalled all the times Fialla had hugged her, and revised her way of thinking, but by that time her father had lowered his arms.


    The Dark Elf situation was confusing to her, so she asked a pointed question to try and understand it, but the answer baffled her. Why allow an enemy into your land if the threat of war with the enemy was so obvious?


    Was Stormheim weaker than what the Redstone thought?


    Toril kept inviting her to sit in a chair, something she wasn¡¯t used to doing. There were no chairs in the Redstone, everyone sat on the ground, around the communal firepit. When he raised her voice, she¡¯d jolted, unthinkingly reaching for a weapon, but he¡¯d made conciliatory gestures and requested she sit again.


    She felt ashamed at her behavior; she should have been more level-headed and clear in her thinking, but there was too much distracting her. Her developing ability to split her awareness and consider all of the things going on around her simultaneously was filling her mind with so much information.


    ¡°What did you do to scare him like that?¡± Toril asked, and aside from the part of her awareness and attention she set to paying attention to all of the things going on around her, she focused the other parts on him, the man who was supposed to be her father.


    She wasn¡¯t sure how to answer that. Part of her was dragon, and that part came forward and demanded his submission.


    How could she explain it?


    ¡°I showed him the Dragon.¡± She finally decided.


    Fialla would likely try to kill the elf on sight, so a little Supremacy to demand his subservience would probably keep him alive.


    Probably.


    ¡°The Dragon, huh.¡± Toril mused. ¡°Davian... told me a little about that Dragon¡¯s power when he was here. Even as a teen, he was very formidable.¡± he added, creating an open space on the desk for Sheilah to use when the food got there.


    ¡°You knew my father?!¡± She blurted, and then turned away. Toril- this man- was her father.


    ¡°...right. To you, Davian would be your father.¡± Toril muttered. ¡°I won¡¯t tell you to forget about him, but you¡¯re my daughter.¡± He finally replied firmly.

 Chapter 50

    Instead of the expected food cart of breakfast goods, Magdalene¡¯s maidservant Andrea showed up, and glanced at the two of them, then requested that the two of them move to the private dining hall, where Magdalene and Fialla were awaiting their arrival.


    Sheilah was aware of Andrea¡¯s approach before the maid knocked on the door, but Toril jolted in surprise.


    Toril gave Sheilah a difficult look, sighed, and rose to his feet. Sheilah copied him, part of her still wary of both Toril and Andrea, calculating distances between herself and them.


    The short walk to the private dining hall of Magdalene and Toril was uneventful; Fialla gave Sheilah a reproachful look when Sheilah arrived.


    Toril immediately stiffened at the sight of Fialla, prompting Sheilah re-introducing the half-elven girl as her sister.


    Toril grimaced at that, ¡°There isn¡¯t a single person in all of Stormheim that will accept an elven sister of the Princess of Stormheim.¡± He complained, and caught the exchange of looks between Sheilah and Fialla.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to figure something out.¡± He added, albeit reluctantly.


    A servant came into the dining hall, pushing a cart that steamed with the scents of various foodstuffs.


    ¡°Right. Breakfast.¡± He announced briskly, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.


    The servants placed various dishes about the table; Toril explained each food to Sheilah and Fialla as they were laid out.


    ¡°Leave us, leave us.¡± Toril flapped his hand at the servant. ¡°Let me have breakfast already with the ladies; the food¡¯s getting cold.¡± The servant withdrew with a hurt expression.


    ¡°Davian told me a little bit about the Clans.¡± Toril offered as he scooped food onto their plates. ¡°You hunt animals that are important to you, right?¡± He asked.


    She was going to correct him, but her explanation died on her lips. The clans raised and herded goats and other animals; the only animals that they actively hunted belonged to their Totems.


    She smiled a little. ¡°That¡¯s ... right.¡± She replied.


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound sure of that.¡± He observed. ¡°Potatoes?¡± He asked, and she nodded. He spooned some potatoes onto her plate.


    ¡°We raise goats for wool and milk, boars for their meat, chickens for eggs, and...¡± She offered, and he nodded. ¡°We hunt the dragons, and we defend ourselves against the gnolls and Stormheim.¡± She finished her explanations.


    He frowned at her a bit while he chewed.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of dragons. They¡¯re supposed to be terrifying monsters.¡±


    She nodded while she chewed. ¡°Unimaginably terrifying.¡± She replied. ¡°Their wings blot out the skies, their flames burn down to the marrow, their hides turn away sword and spear, their teeth and claws devour the unworthy.¡± She explained, the thin rings around her irises flaring alight as she described them. ¡°There is no higher authority, they embody absolute supremacy.¡±


    He leaned back away from her as she described them. Even though he¡¯d never seen one, and all of those who had never survived the encounter, he could somehow imagine one, picture it in his head.


    ¡°What do you do with them?¡± He asked in a low breath.


    She grinned for a second. ¡°We eat them, of course.¡±


    He tried to find a way of changing the subject. ¡°And... that¡¯s why you were climbing the wall under the window earlier?¡± He asked.


    She nodded. ¡°We like tall places. We can¡¯t fly like dragons, but we¡¯re very good at climbing.¡± She replied easily. ¡°I woke up this morning and wondered what the highest point of the castle was.¡±


    He blinked a few times as he mentally calculated how far she¡¯d gotten.


    ¡°You climbed all the way from your rooms?¡± He asked, baffled and amazed.


    She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not very difficult at all.¡± She picked up a thick slice of bacon and stuffed it into her mouth.


    ¡°You went without me?¡± Fialla asked Sheilah curiously.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to wake you up.¡± Sheilah replied, giving Fialla a nudge.


    ¡°From the balcony?¡± Fialla confirmed,. And Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°How was it?¡± Fialla asked, her curiosity and interest evident in her voice.


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°I had to go all the way to the other side of the castle to find something worth climbing.¡±


    Fialla replied to that statement with a disappointed look and a sympathetic gesture.


    Magdalene and Toril exchanged looks.


    Toril leaned forward. ¡°It¡¯s not appropriate for you- either of you- to be climbing the castle. You won¡¯t be doing that any more.¡± He decided to adopt a stern voice for this. Sheilah and Fialla immediately adopted stubborn looks of their own.


    He held up three fingers. ¡°There are three reasons for this.¡± He explained. ¡°First, it¡¯s unladylike. Second, any guard sees you, they will think you¡¯re an intruder or an assassin, and they will kill you.¡± He added. ¡°Finally, there¡¯s the risk of falling.¡± he finished, with a strong look at Sheilah for emphasis. ¡°I cannot have my last surviving child falling to her death.¡±


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    Fialla rolled her eyes. ¡°As if a Dragon would fall.¡± she mocked.


    Toril didn¡¯t reply to this, but continued to stare significantly at Sheilah.


    ¡°That one¡¯s on you.¡± she finally replied, pointing at him with half a biscuit. ¡°You startled me. I would have gone straight up if you hadn¡¯t opened the window when you did.¡±


    Fialla¡¯s eyes opened wide at that exchange. ¡°You fell?¡± She accused.


    Sheilah rolled her eyes. ¡°He startled me. Popped right out of the window.¡± She described, but Fialla shook her head.


    ¡°You fell.¡± Fialla pointed out, a note of teasing in her voice.


    Sheilah flexed her fingers like a cat. ¡°I stuck to the wall, though.¡±


    ¡°A fall is a fall.¡± Fialla argued, but Sheilah shook her head.


    ¡°It¡¯s only a fall if you hit the ground.¡± She replied.


    The two started bickering in between bites of food, and Toril allowed it to continue as he wanted to see more of how Sheilah and Fialla interacted with each other.


    Finally, however, he cut them both off.


    ¡°Magdalene told me that you arrived here with a sword.¡±


    Fialla and Sheilah both cut off their animated conversation as if their strings had been cut, and the emotion slid from their faces.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see it, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± Toril encouraged.


    Fialla eyed Sheilah¡¯s face, and then got up and left the room.


    After several minutes, she returned with a leather-wrapped bundle, which she proffered to Sheilah. ¡°I didn¡¯t touch it.¡± She explained, ¡°But I picked it up for you.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s eyebrow twitched at that. ¡°Did you bring yours?¡± She asked.


    Fialla bobbled her head. ¡°Can¡¯t bring my spear everywhere. I have my  knife.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have minded if it were you, sister.¡± Sheilah gently admonished Fialla.


    Sheilah unwrapped the sword and set it on the table; a slender, rapier-like blade with a dragonbone hilt and sheath.


    Toril reached for it, and Sheilah stiffened. He caught the gesture and froze; looking towards his daughter expectantly.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind.¡± Toril began, and picked up the sword laying on the table.


    A feeling like insects crawled all over Sheilah¡¯s skin, and it was all she could do to keep from snatching the blade from him.


    Toril bared a few inches of blade and curiously inspected it, and then slid it back into its sheath and set it back on the table.


    Toril blinked. ¡°This looks more like a duelist¡¯s blade than a Redstone sword.¡±


    Both Fialla and Sheilah let out a sigh at this, then traded looks.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you let him touch your blade.¡± Fialla muttered at Sheilah in the tongue of the Redstone. There were notes of reproach in her voice. ¡°They¡¯re not for outsiders.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to see what would happen.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°And?¡± Fialla replied back.


    ¡°Like having a nest of blood hornets crawl all over my skin.¡± Sheilah replied.


    Fialla shuddered.


    ¡°You won¡¯t need to carry that around.¡± Magdalene interrupted their conversation. ¡°You can leave that in your room.¡±


    Toril rolled his eyes. ¡°There are plenty of noblewomen that carry dueling rapiers, Magdalene. It won¡¯t be a problem if she learns how to use it.¡±


    Magdalene gave him a sour look. ¡°Lower noblewomen, Toril. Not the princess.¡±


    He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°I see no problem with it.¡±


    The frustrated anger Magdalene directed at Toril was visible to everyone.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to keep her locked up, Mag.¡± Toril offered, glancing at his wife while he stabbed a bit of potato with his fork. ¡°She¡¯s going to be seen, for better or worse, and we need to prepare for that. Letting her carry her sword won¡¯t be a problem, as long as she knows how- and when- to use it. I trust you- and her instructors- to teach her when it¡¯s appropriate.¡± He stuffed the bit of potato in his mouth, and then pointed at Fialla with his fork.


    ¡°Maybe a head covering, for her ears.¡± He mused.


    Fialla frowned, but he waggled his fork back and forth. ¡°Anyone sees you as you are now, and they¡¯ll think you¡¯re a Dark-¡± He was interrupted by Fialla standing up, her hand going to her back, where her knife rested.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡± Fialla warned hotly.


    He gave her a nonplussed look, but his eyes were hard. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if I say it or not. Everyone will think it: You¡¯re another elf to torment us.¡± He replied. ¡°Threaten as you like, it¡¯s an unassailable truth. Elves are not liked in Stormheim. That means we¡¯ll have to find some way of covering your ears.¡± He stated.


    He got up.


    ¡°This has been a very welcome distraction from my duties, but I have things that need attending, and you two need to start working hard- preferably on your Stormheim speech.¡±


    ¡°I think we speak it well.¡± Fialla complained to Sheilah.


    Magdalene frowned. ¡°I¡¯ll explain on the way back to your apartments.¡± She finally decided.


    *****


    As they navigated the halls, Magdalene finally spoke up after a long silence. ¡°Your pronunciation is atrocious of course, but the real problem is that you speak like men.¡±


    Sheilah gave Fialla a puzzled look, who shrugged.


    Magdalene sighed. ¡°So we start there?¡± She asked the air. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of intonation in most things, but there¡¯s some words that are used if a man speaks them, and other words if a woman speaks them. You sound like a pair of angry boys with a mouthful of food in your mouths.¡±


    ¡°I blame your father. He was the one that taught us, after all.¡± Fialla accused Sheilah in the tongue of the Restone.


    ¡°You want me to make fun of you in elvish?¡± Sheilah asked curiously, in elvish.


    ¡°Ugh! Stop! Your elvish is still horrible!¡± Fialla complained, putting her hands over her ears. ¡°It¡¯s not even that hard to learn!¡±


    Sheialh laughed lightly at Fialla and continued following Magdalene.

 Chapter 51

    Magdalene¡¯s lessons in speaking properly was an exercise in frustration for Sheilah. She¡¯d never been particularly fluent in the language of Stormheim, and arguably proficient in elvish.


    In the Redstone, there were a total of four languages that were spoken: there was the common tongue of the Redstone, with each clan typically having their own minor variations, there was the more formal ¡®ancient¡¯ tongue that everyone used for clan meetings and rituals; the time that Sheilah spent with her Dragon tooth, telling the stories of her ancestors- that was done in the ancient language, the formal language.


    There was the tongue of the Wild Elves, a language that was melding into the Redstone common tongue with a regularity, and finally, there was the Stormheim tongue, something that Davian taught because ¡°it was wise to know what the enemy said about you.¡±


    Sheilah had learned a smattering of elvish and Stormheim as a child, but she was an indifferent student despite living with Davian, who had lived a portion of his life as a slave to Stormheim, and Ladria being the former princess of the Wild Elves.


    Further, Magdalene was not nearly as forgiving as her other teachers. Ladria, Mayrin, and Davian simply taught her as she needed and as she came and went. Magdalene wouldn¡¯t let her leave as she drilled the Stormheim tongue into her.


    Fialla was more attentive, practicing her pronunciation over and over, while Sheilah seethed as she struggled with her own pronunciation.


    The two girls¡¯ reading and writing were equally indifferent; Fialla and Sheilah were barely literate, having lived in a society where reading and writing weren¡¯t needed.


    Magdalene threw herself into a chair and sighed loudly as the two girls struggled awkwardly with basic writing.


    ¡°This is harder than I expected.¡± She complained, as Andrea draped a small wet cloth over the queen¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll hire you some additional tutors.¡±


    ¡°So does that mean it¡¯s time to learn the sword?¡± Sheilah asked, half-rising from her seat.


    Magdalene let out a strangled angry noise, pulling off the wet cloth and standing upright. She marched over to Sheilah, grabbed a sheet of paper, carefully and elegantly wrote, ¡°My name is Sheilah Stormheim¡± on one sheet, and on another wrote, ¡°My name is Fialla Redstone¡± and then set each sheet in front of the respective girl.


    ¡°Write this a hundred times each, exactly as I have written it. No breaks, no interruptions, no questions.¡± Magdalene demanded. ¡°I need to rest for a moment.¡±


    She returned to her seat, replaced the cloth, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.


    ¡°How much is a hundred?¡± Fialla asked Sheilah in a low voice.


    ¡°Probably a lot.¡± Sheilah replied. Fialla nodded, and bent to her work.


    Magdalene made a strangled noise in her throat, but didn¡¯t say anything or get up.


    A few hours later, Fialla and Sheilah were groaning with irritated frustration.


    ¡°I wanna go hunt.¡± Fialla complained.


    ¡°I wanna go explore the city.¡± Sheilah rebutted.


    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be bad, I suppose.¡± Fialla muttered, but shook her head instead. ¡°Nah. Remember that time when we accidentally tried hunting the same dragonling?¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about that time in the ravine?¡± Sheilah asked, to Fialla¡¯s nod.


    Sheilah burst into laughter. ¡°Five of us all hunting the same dragonling.¡± She remarked, leaning back in her chair. ¡°That was a fight.¡±


    ¡°Everyone was convinced they were the rightful hunter.¡± Fialla groaned, but she was grinning.


    ¡°You want to hunt like that again?¡± Sheilah asked curiously.


    The half-elf shook her head.


    ¡°There weren¡¯t many opportunities for us to hunt together. I¡¯d like to do that again.¡± Fialla replied.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°That sounds fun. Where would we hunt in a place like this, though?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Ask your mother. Surely there¡¯s some place to hunt at.¡± Fialla suggested.


    Sheilah looked over at her mother, who was sleeping in her chair.


    ¡°Clearly she¡¯s not up to the task.¡±


    Andrea, who was watching over the two girls, sent a glance towards the sleeping Queen Magdalene.


    ¡°The... the King has a private game preserve,¡± she began hesitantly, ¡°but I believe that the Queen has plans for you two today.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks and grinned at each other. Sheilah could feel her heart race at the thought of hunting.


    ¡°We¡¯ve completed the work she assigned us.¡± Sheilah replied, ¡°and we are responsible for our own schedules.¡±


    ¡°How long should it take for a hunt?¡± Fialla asked Sheilah.


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    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. If it¡¯s anything like Thorheim Forest, then it shouldn¡¯t take too long at all.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Only a few hours at the far end.¡±


    Fialla looked out the window to gauge the sun. ¡°We could spend a few hours hunting, and still have time before dinner.¡±


    Sheilah nodded thoughtfully. ¡°That would give us leeway in case Magdalene has other tasks for us.¡± She agreed, and looked to Magdalene. ¡°We will go to this preserve.¡±


    Andrea made a noise in her throat and looked to the sleeping Queen.


    ¡°It is a hunting preserve reserved for the Royal family, but-¡± She began, ¡°I still think you should seek permission from the King, at least.¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°I am the daughter of the King and Queen. More, I am an adult. Therefore I should not need to request permission from anyone.¡± She struggled with the unfamiliar pronunciations, but was adamant. ¡°Lead us to where we need to go.¡±


    Andrea gave her a vexed look. ¡°I will remind you of the need for secrecy.¡± She insisted. ¡°A trip to the preserve requires a guarded escort. Time to set up supplies, and contact the Royal family hunters.¡±


    Sheilah blinked at that, confused.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± She replied guardedly. ¡°Why would any of this need to be done? My sister and I are going to hunt.¡±


    Andrea let out a pensive sigh.


    ¡°My lady, If I understand what it is that you are suggesting- that is to say, that you yourself and Fialla be allowed to hunt without guards, escorts, or hunters- then I feel it necessary to explain how it is done in Stormheim.¡±


    Sheilah traded confused looks with Fialla; the half-elf gave her a confused shrug.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°A hunting excursion requires a schedule, with invitations and summons sent out beforehand. A guarded escort will need to be arranged for protection. A competent staff of servants and staff to provide for you during the excursion. Naturally, any guests will also need to be invited, and accommodations for their staff and escorts provided. Finally, the royal hunters will need to be contacted, and provided a list of the beasts you wish to be hunted on the day of the event.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla grew more and more confused. Why would any of that need to be arranged?


    Sheilah¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°All Fialla and I need are our weapons and directions to this... hunting preserve.¡± She explained. ¡°That should be sufficient.¡±


    Magdalene sat upright at this. ¡°You¡¯re new to this, Sheilah, and you don¡¯t understand the responsibilities that come with your new role: You¡¯re a princess now. Hunting is not something you do yourself. It¡¯s much too dangerous to risk death or injury.¡± She paused, and then added, ¡°Besides, hunting is a thing for men to enjoy. It¡¯s not considered a ladylike pursuit. You should give it up.¡±


    Sheilah took a shaky breath, struggling to contain her frustrations.


    She wanted to hunt, feel the dirt under her feet, the scent of prey in the air, the thrill and danger and the cathartic rush of reward.


    It wasn¡¯t just her, either. That part of her that was becoming a dragon wanted it too, to release the fetters that chained it, to spread its Supremacy, to feel the brilliant, savage delight as it chased its terrified prey, smell of fear baking off of it as it felt the dreadful inevitability shroud it.


    The mortal screams as it was torn limb from limb, the feel of flesh and bone between the jaws, the hot rush of lifeblood gushing down the throat.


    Sheilah shivered with anticipation and the need to hold it back. Suddenly the need to destroy everything around her with dragonfire surged up within her.


    ¡°I want to go.¡± Sheilah stated, struggling with the irrational need for destruction. ¡°I won¡¯t be gone long.¡±


    Magdalene sat up and looked at Sheilah while rubbing her lower back. Sleeping upright in a chair hadn¡¯t done it any favors.


    ¡°Let¡¯s negotiate, then:¡± Magdalene began. ¡°I will permit your hunting as long as you commit to your studies and lessons. All of them. When you are seen outside of these apartments- and you will be seen, you can trust me on this- you will comport yourself with the appropriate gravitas and manners befitting your station.¡±


    Sheilah closed her eyes and breathed deeply, sweat trickling down her forehead. It was difficult to struggle with herself, with all of the impulses and desires that seemed to surge up, all at once.


    ¡°I want to hunt every day.¡± Sheilah agreed.


    ¡°Refused.¡± Magdalene replied, amused. ¡°You would empty the hunting grounds too quickly for that to be feasible. How about once a month?¡± She asked curiously.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s unfair. How are we to eat?¡± Fialla asked.


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°All of your food, clothing, shelter... everything is already provided for you. The only things you need to do is learn to behave as is appropriate your station.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s hands ached; she was driving her nails into the palms of her hands again.


    ¡°And what is that?¡± Fialla asked, after a glance at Sheilah.


    ¡°Reading, writing, conversation, dance, poise, and manners, to start. After that, some scholarly pursuits, the history of the nation as well as knowledge of the noble houses. Diplomacy is a must.¡±


    Magdalene let out an ostentatious sigh. ¡°And I suppose you¡¯ll be wanting lessons to use that beastly sword of yours.¡± she finished with an eyeroll.


    ¡°You must also learn the necessity of managing the royal house as well as the kingdom, as you¡¯ll be inheriting both when your father and I pass on.¡± Magdalene ticked them off on her fingers.


    ¡°Most women learn all of this throughout their childhood. You, Sheilah Stormheim, have only two years.¡± Magdalene added, stressing the time limit. ¡°You will have very little time with which to play around.¡±


    ¡°Every ten days, then.¡± Sheilah argued. Fialla nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Once a week seems reasonable.¡± Fialla agreed. ¡°Surely there are other things we can do to vent stress.¡± She looked around the room. ¡°I can¡¯t stand to be confined by these walls, either.¡±


    Magdalene frowned, confused.


    ¡°A week is seven days.¡± She objected.


    Sheilah and Fialla traded puzzled looks.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right.¡± Sheilah argued.


    ¡°It seems there¡¯s a lot more than just attitudes and learning that you¡¯ll need to pick up.¡± Magdalene groaned, and looked to Andrea. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to get an army of tutors.¡±


    Sheilah gave Fialla a very tiny smile. ¡°Every seven days is fine.¡± She agreed.


    Fialla¡¯s eyes widened. Giving up the Redstone¡¯s calendar wouldn¡¯t be so bad if they could hunt more than three times a month.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Sheilah stated decisively. ¡°Fialla, let¡¯s get ready.¡±

 Chapter 52

    It took Sheilah and Fialla only moments to get ready to go hunting- long enough for them to grab their gear from the bedroom- but servants had to be summoned, and messages sent and received before they were told that their carriage was ready.


    ¡°Will you be bringing your spear, little sister?¡± Sheilah asked Fialla, who gave the human girl a complicated look.


    ¡°I like how you call me your sister, Sheilah.¡± Fialla admitted, ¡°but I don¡¯t think I should bring my spear. I made it as a family weapon, not...¡± She trailed off. ¡°Not for hunting animals like this.¡±


    She searched through one of her bundled packs and opened it, revealing slim and polished dragon wingbones, a spool of sinew, and a rugged bowstave similar to the one Sheilah had used in her original bracing, before switching to Dragon Metal. ¡°I have a bow that I was originally going to craft, one like yours, but I haven¡¯t assembled it yet.¡±


    Sheilah rubbed her forehead. ¡°You¡¯ve had this all this time and you didn¡¯t tell me?¡± She asked, frustrated.


    ¡°Things happened very quickly, sister.¡± Fialla rebutted. She gave Sheilah a wry smile. ¡°Also, I was hoping for this sort of surprise.¡±


    ¡°Do you have enough dragonling teeth for arrows?¡± Sheilah asked curiously, examining the wingbones.


    Fialla laughed prankishly. ¡°Dragonling teeth? I paid Dragon Metal for the tribe to turn the shards of our dragon teeth into arrowheads.¡±


    ¡°...and you didn¡¯t mention this at all, before.¡± Sheilah rebutted. ¡°You even gave me a quiver of dragonling teeth arrows. You could have mentioned it then!¡± Sheilah unconsciously raised her voice in her exasperation.


    Fialla pressed her lips together and turned her head away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She muttered. ¡°I should have said something earlier. I was really excited to see you, and I- everything went out of my head.¡±


    Sheilah embraced the girl. ¡°I¡¯m not mad, you know. It¡¯s just- surprising, vexing, frustrating... I don¡¯t really know how to feel.¡± She paused. ¡°There¡¯s a lot happening, and it seems like my feelings are struggling to keep up.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I know the feeling.¡± She commiserated. ¡°And the sense of the Dragon is so strong; it¡¯s distracting.¡±


    Sheilah nodded at that, too.


    ¡°Shall we assemble your bow?¡± She offered, to which Fialla nodded.


    As Magdalene fretted and frowned at Sheilah and Fialla using the study to assemble a bow- a bow, of all things!- in the study, she regretted indulging her daughter in this hunting trip. Strangely, what was more vexing was that they sat on the floor of all things.


    Just watching the two together, it was obvious the degree of affection and trust that they held for each other, and she could not help but feel a little jealous. It seemed as though there was no room at all in Sheilah¡¯s heart for her own mother.


    Magdalene knew she was being silly- they¡¯d barely spent any time together at all, but still, she couldn¡¯t reconcile that fact with the sense of jealousy. Sheilah and Fialla had grown up together. Shared whatever secrets together. Even now they were regaling each other with hunting stories, mentioning people Magdalene had never met, laughing about foibles and follies and praising successes.


    Something had to be done to reclaim her daughter more fully from the barbarians.


    That leather they wore- what was it? Fialla¡¯s was patterned in dark gray and charcoal, with those spots that glowed like lambent coals.


    Sheilah¡¯s own armor was a garish crimson, like fresh blood. It was patterned with zigzagging yellow stripes that wrenched the eye against that red, and yet she wore that lurid outfit as if it were no matter at all.


    ¡°Sheilah, dear...¡± Magdalene began with a grimace of distaste, ¡°Do you really have to wear... that?¡±


    Sheilah blinked a few times at this statement in confusion. Her mother was looking at her with disgust.


    ¡°It¡¯s dragonhide, Magdalene.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°There is no finer armor.¡± She added, which was true. It could turn aside anything aside from her and Fialla¡¯s dragon weapons.


    ¡°It...¡± Magdalene couldn¡¯t finish her sentence.


    A smile spread on Sheilah¡¯s face as she began to understand Magdalene¡¯s discomfiture.


    ¡°Many animals have hides and furs that allow them to blend into their surroundings. Hive Lizards, for example, can easily blend into the dirt and stones as they wait for unsuspecting prey.¡±


    Fialla nodded at that.


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    ¡°But the Tyrant Dragon needs no such measure. It demands to be seen. It forces all to look at it. It dares all to challenge it, it terrifies all that cannot. It is a mark of fear in the hearts and eyes of all that oppose it.¡± Sheilah concluded proudly. ¡°I slew the Tyrant Dragon, and I make the same accusation to any that dare to-¡± She continued, her voice becoming more challenging, when Magdalene cut her off.


    ¡°Stop! Stop! Just- just stop, please!¡± She begged. ¡°I get it, I understand, all right? Just- just stop sounding like...¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± Sheilah asked, her voice cooling.


    Magdalene shuddered, shaking her head.


    ¡°Like what, Magdalene?¡± Sheilah repeated.


    ¡°Like a Light-blind savage!¡± Magdalene yelled. ¡°Your behavior, your posture, your attitude, your speech- just where is the lovely Sheilah Stormheim in there that is mine?¡± She wailed.


    Sheilah took a breath, and traded looks with Fialla while Magdalene burst into tears.


    ¡°There it is again.¡± Sheilah remarked to Fialla. ¡°We¡¯re savages.¡±


    Fialla let out a pensive sigh. ¡°Should we leave?¡± She asked in a low voice.


    Sheilah turned to Magdalene, who was weeping, hands over her face. ¡°Do you want us to leave?¡± She asked carefully.


    Magdalene raised her tear-streaked face. ¡°No, I don¡¯t want you to leave.¡± She replied, her voice thick. ¡°I want you two to behave like proper ladies. I want you two to dress, speak, and act like proper ladies. I want you to put this whole ... dragon business behind you. You are not a dragon, you are my daughter, and I want you... I want you to behave like you are.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks at that.


    ¡°Please stop doing that.¡± Magdalene added. ¡°You¡¯re behaving like you have some great advantage over me, when you can¡¯t even write your own name correctly.¡± She complained. ¡°What is it that-¡± She cut off, and pulled a ruffled lace handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.


    ¡°There are-¡± Sheilah began, but stopped and then moved to a chair. Once she was seated, she tried again. ¡°There are too many things that I cannot tell you.¡± Sheilah began. ¡°They are ... secret things, sacred things. Things that are a part of me.¡± She looked to Andrea, and then looked away. ¡°I can¡¯t- won¡¯t- tell you these things with strangers around. I can¡¯t tell you these things with the thought that you will tell anyone else.¡±


    Sheilah folded her hands and stared meditatively at her thumbs for a bit. Children in the Redstone were taught by doing. How to hunt, how to make clothing, how to work a forge, fix a tent, craft weapons, all of it was taught by actually doing the things they were told to do. At first you weren¡¯t good at a thing, but you eventually got better.


    It had barely been a day since she¡¯d arrived, and Magdalene had barely taught her anything.


    It was when Fialla sat next to her and embraced her that Sheilah noticed she¡¯d curled herself up, knees to chin, arms wrapped around her legs.


    ¡°I remember the way home, Sheilah.¡± Fialla offered in a low voice.


    ¡°I did say- I did say you¡¯re not leaving.¡± Magdalene remarked drily.


    Fialla giggled a little in Sheilah¡¯s ear. ¡°Remember the giant''s city?¡± She whispered. ¡°Watch her try and keep you while the castle burns down.¡± She squeezed closer. ¡°We can leave whenever we want, and there isn¡¯t a person that can stop us.¡± she added.


    Sheilah wrapped her own arm around Fialla. ¡°You¡¯re every wicked impulse rolled up into one, aren¡¯t you?¡± She asked, and Fialla chuckled.


    It was telling that Andrea didn¡¯t say or do anything during the whole exchange, and that made Sheilah trust her even less. Shouldn¡¯t someone that lived in the same home as you have some sort of opinion about the things going on around them? Sheilah said as much to Magdalene, and that made the queen blink in shock.


    ¡°She¡¯s a servant, Sheilah. She¡¯s not supposed to. It isn¡¯t appropriate.¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t explained what a servant is, or why they¡¯re important.¡± Sheilah replied.


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°A servant of her caliber is usually the daughter of a viscount or so. Andrea here, her family is from a viscount in the southlands. She¡¯s educated and quite capable of managing a household. I¡¯ve explained it before, but she will be managing your servants for you.¡±


    Sheilah rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re not explaining anything!¡± Sheilah complained. ¡°And we¡¯re still not going hunting!¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes ostentatiously. ¡°I will take you where you want to go.¡± She gestured to Andrea, who nodded. ¡°The carriage is prepared.¡±


    Magdalene gestured while wiping her face; Sheilah and Fialla heading for the massive double doors.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know what a servant is.¡± Fialla complained.


    ¡°Me either.¡± Sheilah shot back.


    Magdalene joined the conversation. ¡°A normal servant- the normal responsibility of a servant is to take care of what needs to be taken care of. A steward, like Andrea, oversees them.¡±


    ¡°And what do servants do?¡± Sheilah repeated.


    ¡°Everything.¡± Magdalene replied.


    ¡°I don¡¯t follow.¡± Sheilah replied. Fialla agreed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense for a guest to stay in your home and require them to do everything for you. That¡¯s poor hospitality.¡± Sheilah decided, and Fialla nodded.


    Magdalene rolled her eyes again. ¡°Servants aren¡¯t guests. They¡¯re the ones that cook your food, clean your clothes and bedding, tend to the flooring, and those, like Andrea, who will wait on you personally and manage your schedule.¡±


    ¡°I can cook my own food and tend and mend my own clothes.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I do not need strangers in my territory- in my home- doing whatever they please; my parents and my Clan taught me every necessary skill.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re hardly noticeable, dear.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to them.¡± She then added, ¡°And Toril and I are your family.¡±


    Sheilah frowned at that.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have any sisters- you¡¯re the only girl we had, and all your brothers are dead,¡± She muttered something under her breath at that, ¡°But you do have a few cousins. You have family here.¡±

 Chapter 53

    Sheilah and Fialla¡¯s bows and quivers were secured in a cart that followed the carriage that Magdalene, Andrea, and the two dragon clan girls climbed into. They rode out of the castle and through the labyrinthine city, and through an exit that seemed to Sheilah to be in the opposite direction that they¡¯d initially come in from when they¡¯d come in from the Thorheim forest.


    The trip lasted several hours, with the girls feeling restive and impatient. Sheilah herself was looking forward to the hunt as a welcome way to blow off stress. Magdalene herself was irritable, seeing no value in the hunting exercise.


    ¡°When we left, I sent messages to my seamstresses- when we return, you two will be measured for proper dresses. Once you are correctly dressed, we can begin your education in earnest.¡± Her remark seemed more like a threat than anything else.


    ¡°Dresses.¡± Fialla muttered, eyeing Magdalene¡¯s own dress.


    ¡°Yes, dresses. There are dresses for morning, both formal and informal, dresses for daily wear, both formal and informal, dresses for meetings, outings, and entertaining company. There are dresses for dancing, attending functions, church, and formal ceremonies.¡± Magdalene ticked them off, continuing. ¡°Naturally, there will also be the appropriate accessories and the like for each.¡±


    Magdalene added a put-upon grimace. ¡°And since Toril- your father- has decided that your beastly pursuit of the sword be encouraged, I¡¯m sure there will be outfits for that as well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never needed so many clothes for different things.¡± Sheilah objected, but Magdalene shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s required, in order for you to take your place as the Princess of Stormheim.¡± She explained. ¡°Andrea will keep track of your schedules and make sure your outfits are coordinated with that schedule.¡±


    She leaned forward and prodded Sheilah¡¯s dragonskin armor. ¡°And no more of... this.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s eyes narrowed warily at that, but Magdalene matched her, glare for glare.


    They passed through another stone wall into what appeared to be a town big enough to host an entire clan, but when Fialla asked about it, Magdalene revealed that it was apparently only used for when the royal family requested an outing.


    The large mansion was there for the King and Queen to stay, there were wings of suites to host guests while on their outing, there were buildings set aside for the game wardens, as well as gardens and vintners and the like to provide food and drink for the occasional hunting expedition.


    There were cultivated landscapes with carefully tended grass and tasteful hedges and topiaries with gazebos set aside for luncheons while the men hunted; there was even a small music hall where musicians would perform for those who had arrived for the hunts.


    ¡°Of course, most of the services will be unavailable today because of your insistence we leave right away, but in the future, it¡¯s important to schedule these things in advance, as you were told.¡± Magdalene explained sourly.


    ¡°Services?¡± Sheilah looked puzzled.


    ¡°Food, drink, places to rest, guards, chefs, entertainers and the like. We¡¯ll have to tell the wardens that you¡¯ll be the ones doing the hunting...¡± Magdalene complained. ¡°So who knows what sort of outrage that will cause.¡±


    ¡°What can we hunt?¡± Fialla asked eagerly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and I don¡¯t care to know. Hunting is something for men to do.¡± Magdalene immediately replied, withdrawing an ornate fan with lace and feathers and fanning herself vigorously.


    ¡°Ask the game warden.¡±


    Once they arrived, there was a short but heated argument; Sheilah wanted to immediately head to the forest, but Magdalene explained that there was a proper procedure to follow, and instead directed the carriage and carts to the manor house, which revealed a new surprise: a number of carriages with different symbols on their doors.


    As Magdalene, Sheilah and Fialla swept into the foyer, several maids seemed surprised at their arrival and bobbed hasty curtsies, one immediately disappearing further into the manor.


    ¡°This should be... interesting.¡± Magdalene began drily. ¡°Attend.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla, who had grown up in the Redstone where unspoken communication was just as important as spoken, stiffened and became wary.


    Sheilah had left her rapier back at the castle since she had no idea how to use it correctly, but she¡¯d brought the long knife that accompanied it, so she reached for it. Taking her cue from Sheilah, Fialla reached for her own.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll come to that girls, but... we¡¯ll see.¡± Magdalene warned, a note of anger in her own voice. ¡°Pay attention, because you¡¯re about to receive a lesson on how to deal with someone...¡± She trailed off, and then let out a short, hot sigh.


    A disheveled young man, a bit older than Sheilah appeared, straightening his coat. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and stumbled a bit as he walked.


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    ¡°He¡¯s drunk.¡± Sheilah noted to Fialla, who nodded. Magdalene raised an eyebrow, but said nothing at this.


    He rattled down the steps from the second floor, his boots clocking on the polished stone floor.


    ¡°Aunt Magdalene!¡± He exclaimed hastily. ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected your arrival! No one sent word-¡± He began, but Magdalene simply moved the hand holding her fan in a short horizontal move, as if cutting whatever the young man was going to say short- and indeed, when the older woman motioned like that, he immediately shut up and gulped, as if he was swallowing his words.


    ¡°Let me guess, I¡¯ve interrupted another of your debauched salons, haven¡¯t I?¡± Magdalene interrupted coldly. ¡°I am not interested in listening to excuses; you simply have exactly fifteen minutes to get your ¡®friends¡¯ to leave.¡±


    He gaped at her, ¡°There simply isn¡¯t enough-¡± He began, but switched tracks, ¡°Auntie, please. Let¡¯s not speak hotly with each other.¡± He offered with a placating gesture.


    ¡°I am speaking as your queen, Sten Jurgenson. You now have less time to do what I¡¯ve asked. To incentivise your feet to start moving, I will personally order the executions of anyone I find still here, with the sentence carried out in the front yard. I will listen to your lies after. Go.¡± She gave him an imperious gesture, and Sheilah watched him wilt under her hot gaze for a few seconds, then saw him backpedal and bolt back upstairs, the sound of his bootheels revealing his panicked running.


    ¡°What¡¯s an aunt?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°He is my sister¡¯s son.¡± Magdalene clarified. ¡°And an indulgent idiot.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded confused looks. In the Redstone, family was simply family, with degrees of family explained differently.


    ¡°He is... Second Blood?¡± Sheilah offered cautiously, and explained direct inheritance against indirect.


    Magdalene winced. ¡°It¡¯s more complicated in Stormheim.¡± She stated curtly, but paused for a moment and added, ¡°If I understand you correctly, you would be First Blood for my House as well as Toril¡¯s.¡±


    Sheilah traded baffled looks with Fialla.


    ¡°Ehhhhh.¡± Sheilah began, but suddenly there was a flurry of activity as young men and women in varying degrees of dress surged from the halls, each ostentatiously avoiding eye contact with Magdalene.


    ¡°It¡¯s no use trying to hide your faces from me.¡± Magdalene offered helpfully. ¡°I¡¯ve already seen and marked the House heraldries on the carriages outside. Do not at any point think you will have escaped discipline.¡±


    Some of the young men and women let out strangled cries at this pronouncement, but they continued to race outside. The young man that Magdalene identified tried to leave with the others, but Magdalene called him back.


    ¡°Oh no, Nephew, not you. You¡¯re staying.¡± Magdalene called, and the young man made some sort of squealing noise in the back of his throat.


    ¡°Come on, over here. Front and center.¡± She encouraged, the dryness in her voice evident.


    Sten let out a heavy, put-upon sigh, but approached the four women as if heading to the gallows, head down.


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s no cause to behave like that. Besides, I know full well you¡¯ll have forgotten the events of today by the time you decide that it would be a great idea to host another on royal property.¡±


    ¡°Aunt-¡± He began, but she cut him off.


    ¡°I did say that I¡¯m speaking as your queen, did I not?¡± Magdalene prodded. ¡°You might be my idiot nephew, but don¡¯t think at any moment that you have any claim to authority until you inherit a title.¡±


    He flinched at that.


    Magdalene thought for a moment, and then turned to Sheilah, shutting her fan with a click and tapping it against her chin thoughtfully. ¡°Tell me, Sheilah. Have you ever been in a fight? With your fists, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Of course I have.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Back in the-¡± She was cut off with a gesture.


    ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s all very fascinating,¡± Magdalene interrupted testily. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about all that later, but right now, I would like you to punch my stupid nephew in the face. Just once, mind you.¡±


    Sten jerked his head up at that and for the first time, despite Sheilah wearing a brilliant, eye-catching red leather outfit, noticed the young girl.


    ¡°Huh? Her? Who is she?¡± He asked, but Magdalene simply gestured at Sheilah. ¡°Go on.¡±


    Sten turned a startled look at Magdalene, but suddenly he fell back, arms and legs splayed awkwardly on the tiled floor.


    ¡°And maybe now you¡¯ll learn-¡± Magdalene began, fluttering her fan in front of her face, ¡°Oh.¡±


    She looked from the unconscious form of her nephew to Sheilah.


    ¡°Well, that was unexpected.¡± Magdalene offered in a surprised tone. ¡°Also, take this as a lesson- it is wholly inappropriate to strike someone like that, with the possible exception of defending yourself.¡±


    ¡°You ask me to hit someone, and then tell me not to?¡± Sheilah asked, confused.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever wanted to do something you know you shouldn¡¯t?¡± Magdalene asked curiously.


    Fialla burst into laughter at that.


    Magdalene sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve been wanting to hit him for so long...¡± She muttered. ¡°I say, I let my impulses get the better of me. It helps that you haven¡¯t had your debut yet, but...¡± She trailed off and shook her head.


    ¡°Still, that was some blow.¡± Magdalene wondered. ¡°I dare say we shall have to wait for him to wake up. Andrea dear, fetch his staff and have them tend to him. Oh, and have a lunch prepared.¡± She twirled her finger. ¡°And have the game warden summoned, I suppose.¡± She ordered, and Andrea, silent as always, bowed and moved off.


    Magdalene pointed out Andrea to the two girls. ¡°You see how she walks? That is how you two should walk. ¡®When a lady walks, her feet point forward; not one to the right and one to the left. Make sure to have an upright posture, shoulders back but not all the way back but just in line with the ears. Walk with grace, rhythm, and elegance¡¯.¡± She glanced at the two girls. ¡°That¡¯s what my instructor told me, and that is what your instructor will tell you two.¡±


    Sheilah focused on Andrea for a couple of moments, part of her mind committing her movements to memory, while another fretted and impatiently waited to go hunting, something she still hadn¡¯t been allowed to do.

 Chapter 54

    A maid in a uniform that differed from Andrea¡¯s politely offered to escort Magdalene and her entourage to the ¡®Sun Room¡¯, where a small luncheon and tea would be provided. For some reason, Magdalene¡¯s expression grew cool and still.


    ¡°I will permit it.¡± She agreed frostily, but then added, ¡°But a woman- even a maid such as yourself- should avoid putting unmentionable things in their mouths. If you plan to serve someone, be certain to wash the stench of such things from yourself before doing so.¡±


    The maid jerked, shocked, and covered her mouth with her hand.


    ¡°Better. I know the way to the Sun Room. Go clean yourself.¡± Each pronouncement was chilly and cold, like chunks of ice.


    ¡°Her breath smelled like-¡± Fialla began, but a look from Magdalene silenced her.


    The topics of sex in the Redstone were handled differently in Stormheim, it seemed.


    In the Redstone it was hard to keep anything private with shared living spaces, and so there was simply just an unspoken agreement- those that did it didn¡¯t mention it, and those that heard or saw or smelled it didn¡¯t acknowledge it either. When you shared a tent with your parents it wasn¡¯t hard to know what they were doing, so children quickly learned to simply politely ignore it when it happened, and when such things were happening in the tents around you, you also offered the unspoken courtesy of not acknowledging it.


    When they were finally seated in the Sun Room, a room that had large windows covered in those clear, hard disks that Sheilah had discovered earlier, Magdalene pointed out how they were expected to comport themselves at the table, with posture, seating, and how to hold their tableware.


    ¡°You¡¯re picking this up with some ease.¡± Magdalene observed. ¡°Light knows how long it took for me to break the habit of crossing my ankles at the table.¡± She added.


    It took some time, but as they snacked on luncheon meats and sweet, fruity biscuits, one of the game wardens was announced and allowed into the Sun Room with the women.


    ¡°My ladies, I apologize for the late arrival-¡± He began with a bow. ¡°What manner of animal would you like to be hunted for you today?¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded confused looks at this question, and looked to Magdalene for an answer. Instead, Magdalene waved her hand to Sheilah and Fialla.


    ¡°It seems these two young ladies wish to try their hands at hunting.¡± Magdalene replied indifferently. ¡°I have no such interest.¡±


    He turned to Sheilah and Fialla, eyes dipping to their armor briefly before giving them confused looks.


    ¡°Very well my ladies, is there a particular animal you would like hunted for you?¡± He repeated.


    Sheilah organized her thoughts quickly, and trying to emulate Magdalene, adjusted what she was going to say.


    ¡°You mistake our intentions...¡± She trailed off, unable to figure out a way of acknowledging him, since he hadn¡¯t offered them his name, ¡°We came here to hunt.¡±


    He blinked a few times at Sheilah and Fialla, dressed in their dragon leathers.


    ¡°You are...¡± He began, but trailed off.


    ¡°We¡¯re here to hunt.¡± Sheilah repeated.


    ¡°...of course. I shall assemble an appropriate detail of wardens for you. What game are you looking to see hunted today?¡± he repeated.


    Sheilah stood up and turned to the case that held her bow and quiver, and opened it up, while Fialla did the same.


    ¡°Don¡¯t misunderstand.¡± Sheilah offered, trying to emulate Magdalene, who was watching Sheilah and Fialla curiously.


    Sheilah lifted her quiver from the crate and belted it to her waist.


    ¡°We will be hunting, today.¡±


    He seemed lost for words for a moment. ¡°Forgive my impertinence, but will you two personally be hunting today?¡± he asked nervously.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± She affirmed with a nod.


    ¡°I¡¯ll... see about assembling an escort, then?¡± He asked, as Sheilah lifted her bow.


    ¡°That will not be necessary.¡± Fialla replied this time as she belted on her own quiver.


    ¡°What can we hunt?¡± Sheilah asked. She pulled out one of the dragonbone arrows and examined the point carefully. ¡°I was hoping for...¡± What was it called? ¡°... a ¡®Crystalhorn Deer¡¯, or something equally challenging.¡±


    His mouth dropped open. ¡°I¡¯m sorry my lady, but we¡¯ve never been able to capture a Crystahorn for the King¡¯s Forest.¡±


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    Sheilah frowned a little in disappointment. ¡°A shame. Their meat is delicious.¡± She gestured. ¡°So? Can we go?¡±


    His mouth worked at the situation. Women, especially noblewomen, did not hunt, or if they did, they were of such low station that it precluded the idea of hunting in the King¡¯s Forest.


    ¡°I... see.¡± He decided.


    ¡°We want to hunt for a couple of hours.¡± Sheilah repeated. ¡°Can we go?¡±


    ¡°I...uhhh,, all right?¡± He asked, and then gestured towards the low forest beyond the manor. ¡°There are deer- unfortunately, no Crystalhorn,¡± He repeated, ¡°and also some boar.¡±


    ¡°Remember ¡®Boarzilla¡¯?¡± Fialla spoke up then, causing Sheilah to chuckle.


    ¡°I remember. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla shouldered their bows, and headed for the front doors of the estate, the arrows in their quivers rattling subtly. The Warden followed after them, and Sheilah slowed her pace and adjusted her posture so that she walked more like Andrea and Magdalene. A moment later, Fialla did the same.


    ¡°That bow...¡± the forest warden began hesitantly. ¡°What sort- that looks more like a warbow than one for hunting.¡± He eyed it speculatively. ¡°What is it made of?¡±


    Sheilah lifted her bow from her shoulder, and then after a moment passed it over. Fialla blinked, shocked at this.


    ¡°Heavy.¡± He muttered as he lifted it. ¡°Bone?¡± He muttered, and then plucked the twisted strand of sinew that was used in place of a bowstring. He blinked a little, and then settled his feet, briefly stopping them.


    The two girls watched as he drew it, seeing the effort in the flex of his arms and the sweat on his brow.


    ¡°That¡¯s a heavy pull.¡± he observed, passing it back. Sheilah nodded.


    The two girls headed into the forest, leaving the warden to follow in their wake.


    *****


    Sten woke up groggily, feeling as if the left side of his face had been pulverized. He wasn¡¯t certain if the girl that had been dressed so provocatively had actually hit him or if perhaps he¡¯d been blindsided somehow, but the pain was real.


    He groaned as he woke, feeling his face was swollen and sore. The swelling was so bad that his eye didn¡¯t want to open.


    What did his aunt call her?


    Ah. Sheilah. He¡¯d remember her.


    He struggled out of bed and gingerly put on his coat, buttoning it up carefully. It was telling that there were no maids to help him; his aunt must have commanded it.


    He was vexed that his Aunt had rubbed it in his face that he didn¡¯t have a noble title. He was merely ¡°The son of a duchess¡±, which, while it had a great deal of authority when it came to dealing with others of lesser standing, it absolutely meant nothing to anyone who was an actual duke or higher, so getting dressed down like that hurt.


    Besides, he¡¯d heard the talk; with the Stormheim family having no viable heirs since their three sons had died and their daughter ¡®disappeared¡¯- likely the result of their dealings with the elves- it was likely that someone like him, someone that was close to Stornheim blood, would be taking the throne once Toril stepped down.


    It was likely that he¡¯d be partnered with someone from Toril¡¯s family, assuming there was someone that was of a reasonable age that could carry a child, but there weren¡¯t too many options, there.


    In truth, he wasn¡¯t looking forward to inheriting the mess Toril had to deal with. The Elves were an ever-present and constant thorn in the side of Stormheim, gouging and bleeding it from a number of tiny, but telling cuts.


    He had no desire to be the King of Stormheim, either. Let someone else take up that burden. He was happy with the responsibilities he was currently saddled with, which was to say, very little. He¡¯d support whoever it was that they put on the throne, if they were competent.


    He stepped out of his room and caught the attention of a passing maid. ¡°Where is my-¡± He began, but switched gears. ¡°Where is the Queen?¡± He asked, and the redheaded girl flashed him a look- he was well aware of what he looked like, the mirror had pointed that out to him well enough- but simply referred him to the Sun Room.


    He was a little disappointed that she didn¡¯t escort him, but simply carried out her task- pushing a laundry cart- with brisk efficiency.


    He entered the Sun Room and approached the queen. ¡°My Queen, it¡¯s a pleasure-¡± He began, but was cut off by her gesture. Magdalene Stormheim held nothing but contempt for him and his ways of alleviating his boredom.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed that you were using the royal suite for yourself.¡± She replied curtly.


    He let out a gusty breath. ¡°Yes, I used the royal suite.¡± He admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s not like you or Tor- err, the king ever come out here anyway, so it¡¯s not like you¡¯ve lost anything by it.¡±


    ¡°I will remind you of your position: a son of a duchess. Not a king, nor a prince. You are mediocre in your studies, lazy in your responsibilities, and your morals smell as bad as you do.¡± She paused for a moment and then continued lecturing as if he were a particularly stupid child.


    ¡°The things and places that are accorded specifically towards the royal family are for exclusive use by the royal family.¡± She explained, ¡°and as such, if someone is caught using those things without permission from the royal family- and do not think for a moment that Toril or my sister will back you up on this- the punishment is usually execution.¡± She finished matter-of-factly.


    Sten stiffened at that. ¡°Will my mother allow you to execute me?¡± He asked curiously, and then gestured at the table.


    She waved her hand, and he sat.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t she?¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°She has other, more capable heirs.¡±


    He let out a heavy sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d enjoy that.¡±


    There was a long pause of silence.


    ¡°You can be of use to me, you know. You and your collection of ... ¡®friends¡¯.¡± Magdalene offered in a low voice.


    ¡°What, are you planning to rope me in to some noble cause?¡± He asked. ¡°Maybe send my group as part of the next expedition to the Silverlands, perhaps?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Certainly not.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can hardly think of a use for a bunch of second and third sons and fourth daughters of nobles who already have their successors established. Military service is too rigid, church service too abstemious, and playing steward to a bunch of backwater territories too boring.¡± He finished with a grand gesture.


    ¡°Oh, I can think of a few things.¡± Magdalene replied, and lowered her voice.


    She explained a few things, suggested others, and insinuated more. All for the price of an apology and their loyalty.

 Chapter 55

    ¡°Did you lose the warden?¡± Fialla asked Sheilah curiously.


    ¡°I did. He was much too noisy.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Have you found us something to hunt?¡±


    Fialla nodded, and pointed out some boar tracks. ¡°A little old, but assuming the warden doesn¡¯t come blundering along while we trail it, I think we should be fine.¡± She fetched a sigh. ¡°I thought he was kind of handsome, you know.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s eyebrows shot up at this. ¡°Oh?¡± She remarked, shocked.


    Fialla then let out a snort. ¡°Just a little.¡±


    Sheilah blinked a few times in silent thought. ¡°Huh. I didn¡¯t even think. I was completely one track: gotta hunt, gotta hunt, hurry up and get hunting.¡±


    ¡°Revered Ancestors, please guide my sister towards finding a suitable husband quickly, lest she remain unmarried and alone.¡± Fialla mourned softly, and then pointed at the tracks.


    Sheilah threw a punch towards Fialla, who artfully dodged. They carefully and quietly moved through the underbrush, eyes probing for tracks, ears tuned to the slightest noise, noses testing the wind for scents.


    After about an hour of hunting without a word being passed between them, Fialla¡¯s head came up alertly. She nudged Sheilah and pointed ahead, and then rolled her eyes and pointed behind her and marched the first two fingers along her forearm- the forest warden was coming along behind them.


    Sheilah pointed at Fialla and pointed ahead, then pointed at herself and then at Fialla- Fialla should take the lead, and Sheilah would follow her. Fialla nodded and eased forward, still crouched, while Sheilah followed afterwards.


    They moved ahead slowly, carefully avoiding anything that would make noise, occasionally testing the wind to make sure that it wouldn¡¯t bring their scent to the boar before they were ready. Suddenly Fialla stopped, so Sheilah stopped as well.


    Fialla carefully eased her bow off her shoulder, and then whispered back towards Sheilah,


    ¡°I see a sow with a whole litter of delicious-looking piglets.¡±


    Sheilah closed her eyes and tried to think over a good strategy. Sows were somewhat easy to hunt, male boars were dangerous unless taken by surprise with a certain-kill shot- and even then it was risky, as they were sometimes too stubborn to admit that they were dead- but piglets were quick to scatter and were impossible to catch when they bolted, as Sheilah had learned every time the Dragon Clan had needed to move the boar pens.


    She eased her quiver off, and set her bow to the side. She then carefully wormed her way up to Fialla.


    ¡°Show me.¡± Sheilah whispered, and Fialla gestured.


    ¡°Just a little bit ahead, there¡¯s a short cliff. Maybe six or seven feet. At the bottom is the sow and her piglets.¡±


    ¡°Piglets smaller than a hatchling?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°Li¡¯l bigger.¡± Fialla replied back. Sheilah wormed her way close enough to peek down.


    True enough, there was a fat sow and a squirming mass of piglets that scuttled here and there.


    ¡°A piglet each?¡± Sheilah whispered.


    Fialla chuckled soundless, predatory laughter. ¡°Sure.¡±


    Sheilah belatedly remembered her bow and quiver, but dismissed them. For something this simple, she didn¡¯t need them.


    Her eyes narrowed as she began focusing her mind. Once again, it was strangely easy to divide her attentions while simultaneously concentrating on each of them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the two.¡± She found herself whispering. ¡°Use your Supremacy to scatter them.¡±


    ¡°Sheilah...¡± Fialla complained, and then trembled.


    Sheilah was aware of Fialla trembling even as she focused all of her Supremacy on the two piglets she¡¯d chosen. They obligingly fell over, their tiny hearts burst in their chests from the overwhelming, murderous menace that boiled out for just a heartbeat¡¯s length of time, just at them.


    ¡°Scare ¡®em away, Fialla.¡± Sheilah murmured, and closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart down.


    ¡°Sheilah, this wasn¡¯t fun at all.¡± Fialla pouted, standing up and releasing her Supremacy.


    A whirlwind of bleating squeals rose up as they scattered in every direction.


    ¡°I hate you, Sheilah. This was supposed to be fun. You remember fun, don¡¯t you?¡± Fialla demanded.


    Sheilah nodded and rose to her feet.


    ¡°We have dinner, at least.¡± She offered.


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    ¡°You think that I care?¡± Fialla complained, rising to hers. ¡°I wanted to hunt. Hunt with you.¡± She blew some hair away from her forehead. ¡°That wasn¡¯t hunting. At all. That was boring.¡±


    ¡°Okay, find us something dangerous to hunt then, sister.¡± Sheilah snapped back.


    ¡°No! You¡¯re the one that spoiled it, you go find something and drive it towards me. If it¡¯s good enough, then maybe I¡¯ll return the favor.¡± she snapped.


    Sheilah glared at Fialla, who glared back defiantly.


    Sheilah dropped her gaze. ¡°Fair. The piglets need to be bled first, however.¡±


    Fialla nodded, and the two of them dropped down the cliff and picked up the piglet corpses.


    They unwrapped leather cords from their waists- when didn¡¯t you need a leather cord for something?- strung up the piglets upside down, then cut off their heads so the blood would drain.


    Sheilah scooped up her bow and quiver and headed into the forest even as the warden appeared suddenly.


    ¡°Oh, uh, hi! Thought I lost you there for a minute.¡± He offered by way of greeting. Fialla let out a sigh. He wasn¡¯t cute at all.


    Sheilah headed into the forest, subconsciously avoiding stepping on things that would crack and break, avoided rustling branches or trampling through shrubbery, unaware she was relying on a sense that was granted to her by the Dragon that gave her an innate ability to be aware of everything going on around her.


    Fialla was right; she shouldn¡¯t have trivialized the hunt. The point of it wasn¡¯t to fetch food, the point was the hunt itself, to face down a foe and defeat it.


    ¡°It¡¯s just...¡± She muttered to herself, unaware that she¡¯d spoken aloud, ¡°nothing challenges like a fight with a dragon.¡±


    This was true in a way. If the dragon was at the apex of everything as the clans believed, then nothing else would ever measure up.


    Sheilah let the various parts of her mind wander as she marveled at the unfamiliar trees- even the lands of the Mountain Cat didn¡¯t have trees like these.


    Part of her wondered about the rich soil, the humid air, the rich tapestry of scents in the air, all the massive differences between this forest and the Dragon Terrace.


    Part of her mind noted the cultivated nature of the forest in comparison to the wild and untamed Thorheim forest.


    Part of her wondered and worried about Magdalene¡¯s seeming need to make Sheilah and Fialla abandon the Dragon.


    That, at least, was impossible. She was the Dragon. It was in her blood, in her heart, in her soul. Simply stripping the dragonhide armor from her wasn¡¯t enough to deny the dragon¡¯s existence. It was the same for Fialla. They couldn¡¯t stop being dragons.


    Part of her wondered what sorts of dresses she¡¯d need to wear. Children in the Redstone wore clothes made from goat wool and very light leathers, as they grew older they tailored their own clothes to suit their needs- would Sheilah need to do the same? She wasn¡¯t very good at sewing.


    It hadn¡¯t even been very long since she¡¯d left the Redstone and she already missed it.


    ¡°I want to go home.¡± She complained to herself, even as some part of her surged up, hot and fierce and aggressive in her breast.


    Something was nearby. Something that made the Dragon furious. Sheilah pushed herself to her feet and immediately put an arrow to her bow.


    She absently wished that Fialla was with her- she couldn¡¯t tell what it was that roused the dragon in her heart, but she could feel its hot, fiery outrage. She lunged forward into a trotting run, not bothering with stealth. Whatever it was, whatever it pretended to be, it was an affront to the Dragon, and so she would face it head on, claws and teeth bared, fires searing in her jaws.


    She kicked off of a fallen log, splashed across a small creek, kicked apart the underbrush that threatened to get in the way.


    A snake lunged at her passing ankle, but her dragonhide boots stopped the lethal bite even as Sheilah ignored it, dragging the snake behind her even as her mind was directed forward, hungry and hot and savage, heart pounding in her chest.


    The ground in front of her suddenly dropped away in a sudden short embankment and she tripped and fell, reflexes struggling to turn her fall into a roll, body struggling to move out of its own way.


    She hit the ground hard and bounced as she rolled to a stop, a small chunk of rock pressing up into her back painfully.


    ¡°Ugh.¡± Sheilah muttered, wiping her cheek and feeling unsurprised at the smear of blood that came away on her fingers.


    She put the hand down while she quickly checked to see if anything was broken- and jerked with a hiss when something latched on to her hand with a hot and deadly bite. She pulled the hand back towards her and spotted the snake; she simply grabbed it with her other hand and pulled it off, absently cramming the head of the snake into her mouth as she examined the wound, which was already swelling and painful.


    She frowned as she chewed, and tried to remember what was necessary to counteract poisons. For some reason it was difficult to think.


    The Dragon.


    She could feel the hot swell of the dragon¡¯s power in her breast, could feel the lines of pain fade even as she swallowed the last bit of the snake.


    ¡°Stupid thing.¡± She muttered to herself. She looked herself over; the fall hadn¡¯t been a great one, but she was bumped and bruised and a little sore, though the pain was fading thanks to her own youthful resilience and the subtle powers of the dragon that were at work within her. She was, however, liberally daubed and streaked with mud.


    Her senses suddenly screamed danger at her and she launched herself forward even as the explosive, shattering roar of a thunderclap ripped through her ears.


    Her whole body thrummed and tingled, nerves jittering, sizzling as she tumbled over and over again.


    Where was her bow? Gone. Her quiver? Lost somewhere. Her knife? She reached for it and found that it too was gone.


    She flicked her muddy hair up and over her head even as she looked around for the threat.


    Heavy wingbeats like the rumbling of thunder that presaged a storm from above.


    She looked up into the steel-eyed gaze of a Thunderbird. It was smaller than the ones she¡¯d occasionally seen in the Redstone; only as large as she was.


    Dragon. It seemed to sneer at her.


    Sheilah grinned as the Dragon filled her again, and she bared her fangs in a challenging grin, flames licking from her mouth with each panting exhalation.


    She narrowed her eyes at it.


    Prey.

 Chapter 56

    Sheilah didn¡¯t know much about the Thunderbirds. The clan itself lived in the snowy reaches above the Redstone, and rarely came down. When they did, it was at their sufferance, and they looked down their noses at everyone- with the exception of the Dragon Clan, with whom they regarded with a begrudging acknowledgement and a touch of fear. They called themselves the Lords of the Storm, and claimed sovereignty over the skies.


    The Thunderbirds themselves were supposedly massive things, large enough to pick up and carry off people in their brutal talons, but this one was much smaller, only as tall as a person itself.


    The girl and the Totem stared at each other, Sheilah eager and predatory, the other cool and arrogant.


    Sheilah herself had no weapons, the result of a tumbling spill down a muddy embankment. The Thunderbird itself had a razor-sharp beak and its cruel talons.


    It had also somehow called a lightning bolt that had struck Sheilah.


    Shielah¡¯s head hurt and her ears rang, her body jittered and trembled, the colors of the world kept washing in and out, she had no weapons, but she couldn¡¯t help but grin eagerly up at the giant raptor. Even though the Dragon in her couldn¡¯t seem to heal her, she couldn¡¯t help but feel that predatory thrill of the hunt.


    ¡°Sheilah- By the ancestors!¡± Fialla shouted from behind her.


    The predator shifted its gaze from Sheilah to Fialla and then back to Sheilah.


    ¡°Is this worth the hunt?¡± Shielah asked in a shaky voice, refusing to break her gaze with the totem animal.


    ¡°Sh-¡± Fialla began, then switched what she was going to say. ¡°It¡¯s a totem, Sheilah. We can¡¯t hunt it.¡± Fialla advised.


    ¡°It did a number on me, Fialla.¡± Sheilah complained. ¡°I hurt and it¡¯s not healing.¡±


    ¡°...Calamity?¡± Fialla offered, but Sheilah shook her head, never breaking eye contact.


    ¡°Hunt it, Fialla.¡± Sheilah repeated. ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna pass out here for a little bit, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Fialla drew her bow to her cheek, and the gigantic, human-sized bird of prey ruffled its wings, creating crackling rumbles in the air as it did. Suddenly it leaned forward and launched itself at Fialla, screaming a lightning bolt at the young half-elf.


    Fialla watched Sheilah make a scrambling grab for one of its legs, and then the brilliant bolt slammed into Fialla, knocking the wind out of her, sending her tumbling to the ground, strangling on lungs that didn¡¯t want to breathe correctly.


    She struggled to turn herself over, but her limbs didn¡¯t seem to get the message. Her eyes were seared and she could only see things dimly. She struggled to move her arms and legs, her chest hurt and everything felt both painful and numb. She wasn¡¯t even sure she felt her toes anymore.


    Her ears were ringing, or perhaps something was screaming, she couldn¡¯t tell. She let herself feel the power of the Dragon, but something was off; the normal blooming heat in her breast didn''t feel right, as if it were held back by constricting ribbons of pain.


    Her vision started coming back around the periphery, but everything else was blotted by a white-black blotch that seemed to eat up her vision wherever she looked. She struggled to get her arms and legs to move, but couldn¡¯t tell if they actually were moving or not.


    Suddenly her chest unhitched and she took a huge, gasping breath, followed by another, and the Dragon¡¯s power bloomed in her heart and her vision cleared. At first she¡¯d thought that her ears were ringing, but the Thunderbird was laying in the dirt, its head near her feet, screaming.


    As the Thunderbird launched itself at Fialla, Sheilah made a scrambled grab for it in a panicked dive, hoping in some way to get between the Thunderbird and Fialla.


    Instead, her hands closed on its leg, just above its murderous claws. She gripped as hard as she could and struggled to move her legs, but her footing was loose and instead she was dragged along the ground.


    The thunderclap from the bird¡¯s lightning was point-blank; Sheilah went deaf immediately. Still, the bird had slammed down onto the ground; maybe if she was lucky Fialla had been spared. The weight of the bird pressed down on her; she pushed with her feet, boots churning in the forests¡¯ rich soil even as the bird struggled to right itself.


    She threw an arm around the bird even as it struggled, she couldn¡¯t tell if she was screaming, her hearing had been reduced to a high, thin, sweet whine. Her eyes burned and watered, but she grabbed and seized one of its wings, locking her limbs around it in a classic arm bar. She could wait for her senses to come back; the bird wasn¡¯t going anywhere.


    Unfortunately, without a weapon, neither was she.


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    One of the bits of lore her ancestors had passed on to her in their communion atop Adlan¡¯s Rest was that the Thunderbirds were, at one point, considered to be the scales of life and death. That they could control who lived and who died.


    She had no idea what that meant, but Fialla was family, and if she could, she would demand that the scales be tipped in her favor, that Fialla, if she were dead, be restored to life.


    She could feel the powerful wing trying to flex itself in her grip, and although the feathers were difficult to hold onto, she refused to let go, instead tightening her arms and legs around it as hard as she could.


    Something in the wing broke, she felt it go with her body.


    She wanted to let go, but was afraid of what might happen if she did. She couldn¡¯t see or hear anything. She heaved with her body, and felt, rather than heard, the brittle snap of bone.


    Suddenly, the thunderbird seized up and went stiff, and then all of the fight left it.


    Hands touched hers, and she released her grip, falling back into the dirt. She looked up at the sky and realized that she could see again. Fialla was looking down at her, her mouth moving, though Sheilah couldn¡¯t hear a thing the half-elf girl said. However, Fialla also held a bloody knife in her hand, and the knowledge that the bird had died made Sheilah take a long, satisfied breath.


    It suddenly occurred to Sheilah that if she could lock her arms and legs around the bird¡¯s wing, she could probably stand. She tried to turn herself over and discovered that her legs were weak and trembly. She pushed herself and managed to get upright on her knees.


    She looked up at Fialla and gave her little sister a sheepish grin, shrugged and then tapped her ear and shook her head. She looked around herself; The Thunderbird had only dragged her a few feet. Fialla¡¯s armor was charred and the smaller girl was a little wobbly on her feet, but she looked better than Sheilah felt.


    Sheilah pushed herself to her feet and tried to straighten up, but a wave of dizziness and vertigo washed over her. Her sense of balance seemed skewed. Was she leaning? Was she standing upright? It was hard to tell. She sank back down to her knees and threw up.


    She struggled to bring forth the Dragon¡¯s power to heal her; she was so dizzy and disoriented that it was hard to concentrate, to focus. The feeling overwhelmed her so much she wasn¡¯t aware of anything else until Fialla put her hand on Sheilah¡¯s shoulder.


    Just that touch, that feeling of sensation beyond what was going on inside her head was enough for Sheilah; the power of the dragon welled up in her breast and spread through her whole body. Her ears felt especially hot; and as it faded, she realized that all the pain and nausea had vanished.


    ¡°No more of that, please.¡± She complained, voraciously hungry.


    ¡°Not the best idea, Sheilah.¡± Fialla replied.


    ¡°I agree. Worst idea ever.¡± Sheilah replied.


    ¡°Seems like you can hear again.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, and looked around for her weapons. She spotted her knife first, her bow and quiver were likely nearby. As she picked up her knife, something came over her, some feeling that seemed to move her without conscious choice or deliberation.


    She found herself unable to speak as her body moved to the Thunderbird¡¯s head. She watched her hand with the knife peel the skin away from the bird¡¯s skull, watched her hand reverse its grip on the knife and bring its pommel down on the skull, cracking a hole in it. She watched herself thrust her hand into the quivering mass of jelly that was the brains, feel around until her hands closed around a slick, slippery thing that numbed her hand even as she pulled it free.


    As her hand closed around it, she knew what it was, what it was for. A vision filled her head; the Thunderbird¡¯s power dwelled in it, and she understood what it meant, what it could do.


    A dread, ancient, terrifying voice filled Sheilah¡¯s skull.


    You have eaten my flesh, you have drank my blood. I will not let you go. It warned.


    Sheilah looked up at Fialla in mute terror as she pulled from the thunderbird¡¯s skull a grayish-white crystal that shimmered and flickered with lightning within.


    ¡°This.¡± She tried to speak, her whole body numb and shaking. She wanted to speak, but her throat closed, strangling her.


    The stone slipped from her hand and she immediately gasped as her chest loosened.


    She knew the owner of that voice. She understood its threat, its promise. She understood how inexorably it had wrapped itself around her heart and soul.


    When you were born to the Clans of the Redstone, when you were born to the Dragon, you were bound to a Totem, and that Totem was yours for life.


    In the ancient days, it was necessary to take brides from other clans, and when that happened, you had to give up your own totem and adopt the totem of your husband. It was a dangerous thing; Giving up a totem could kill you. Totems were greedy, jealous, and possessive.


    It was impossible for a Dragon to give up their totem. The Dragon was at the apex, the pinnacle of everything. To relinquish the Totem was to die.


    She¡¯d known it, it was a story from the ancient days, the days of legend and lore, a story told around the fire. She¡¯d known it, but it was something else entirely to feel the dread talons of the Tyrant Mother clutch themselves around her heart as she¡¯d held the Thunderegg in her hand.


    A threat. A warning. A promise.


    Sheilah groped around her waist, and discovered she couldn¡¯t find her pouches, either.


    ¡°Let¡¯s...¡± Sheilah began, and licked her lips. ¡°We need to put that... put it in a pouch. Don¡¯t touch it.¡±


    Fialla stared at her, uncomprehending.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Fialla asked curiously.


    Sheilah let out a breath that she didn¡¯t realize she was holding, and struggled to slow her racing heart. ¡°It¡¯s a Thunderegg.¡±

 Chapter 57

    Magdalene looked at the small pile of wax-sealed letters on her desk in the study that she shared with her husband Toril and let out a sigh.


    It had been a long and trying day. First with her stalled attempt to teach the girls how to speak correctly, followed by the incident with her nephew Sten and his lackeys, followed by the hunting expedition and the Game Warden¡¯s explanation, reluctantly given, as to why Sheilah and Fialla¡¯s faces and hands were sticky with blood.


    ¡°It¡¯s clear that I need to acquire a battalion of teachers for the both of them...¡± She muttered disconsolately.


    She picked up a letter, examined the seal, and opened it. She read the letter indifferently and sighed, rubbed her face with her hands, and picked up the letter again.


    ¡°How was your outing with the girls?¡± Toril asked from his desk.


    ¡°It was... a very long day.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°There were ...surprises.¡± She paused, and then shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not it. There¡¯s just...¡± She shook her head. ¡°If only it wasn¡¯t so hard.¡± She complained. ¡°I¡¯d love to be able to simply point to a dress, and have them be able to understand it.¡± She furrowed her brows. ¡°Or...¡± She shook her head. ¡°There¡¯s ... more barbarian than human in her, Toril!¡±


    He gave her a confused look, but she shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s better that you don¡¯t know.¡± She replied, mentally replaying the Game Warden¡¯s description of the two girls eating the piglets they¡¯d strung up raw and uncooked, crunching through hide and bone alike, devouring them as if they were starving.


    She picked up the strange leather pouch she¡¯d been given by Sheilah.


    ¡°A gift,¡± the girl had offered by way of explanation, ¡°for the woman who gave birth to me. Life for life.¡±


    She opened the leather pouch, inked in savage curving hooks, and let whatever was inside it drop out onto the desk.


    It hit the polished wood with a clatter, and Magdalene let out an exclamation. It was a silvery gray stone, glassy smooth and translucent, small enough to fit into the palm of her hand,. As she peered into the shimmering grays, she fancied she could see tiny thunderbolts flickering in the roiling depths. The stone itself was warm, and thrummed in her hand.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Toril asked, coming over to her desk.


    Magdalene, feeling a little prankish, gave him an impish look. ¡°It¡¯s a gift from Sheilah, husband.¡± She replied. ¡°It¡¯s mine, and I¡¯m keeping it. You can¡¯t have it.¡±


    Toril rolled his eyes, and then froze. She hadn¡¯t addressed him as ¡®Husband¡¯ in decades. He blinked a few times, certain tears were going to come out, desperate to keep them back.


    He struggled to suppress his feelings, and made a show of peering over her at it, placing his hand on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like it.¡± He admired. ¡°Do you think we should get it set to be worn as a necklace? Or a pendant, perhaps?¡± He asked curiously.


    ¡°Oh, can we?¡± Magdalene asked, her voice betraying her delight and excitement. She put her hand over his and looked up at him, eyes bright.


    ¡°Sure.¡± He replied gently. ¡°We can call a jeweler tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, husband!¡± Magdalene said, and impulsively threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace, thanking the Light and his daughter for this moment of youthful affection, so long missing.


    *****


    A massive streak of dragonfire splashed across Stormheim, boiling away the stone of the city in a moment, erasing centuries of work, flames as high the castle rolled like an avalanche of destruction, washing over the surrounding countryside as the sun was blotted out by a monster that defied size, defied reason. Claws dug into the ground as the Great Mother Tyrant landed, the shock of impact causing the earth to ring like a toneless bell of stone, throwing up waves of earth and boulders the size of mansions.


    Waves of flame washed out from the Tyrant of Tyrants as her children swooped around, riding on the massive thermals her destruction generated.


    Through all of this, Sheilah somehow managed to survive, choking on clouds of dust and ash. The kingdom of Stormheim was gone, the landscape irretrievably destroyed simply by the Mother Tyrant¡¯s arrival. There was nothing left to destroy, but that fact wouldn¡¯t stop Her insatiable appetite for destruction.


    Her clawed feet tore up the earth, her wings stirred embers into blazing tornadoes of flame, and she passed across the land like a great burning shadow of death, and a lonely, desolate hell of ash followed in her wake.


    Sheilah awoke in her furs, trembling and crying, feeling the palpable ache of her heart in a dragon¡¯s talon grip, a horrifying, terrible reminder, the unspoken warning, the ruthless promise. Tears leaked from her eyes and she wept silently so as not to wake Fialla.


    *****


    Sheilah and Fialla had hardly woken up when Andrea¡¯s voice echoed from the front of their shared bedroom.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Princess, it¡¯s time to wake.¡±


    Sheilah eyed her red dragon armor, and rummaged through her belongings for a shirt. She shrugged into it, struggled into a pair of leather pants that were starting to get a little too tight for her, and gathered up her hair.


    ¡°Sister, you should wait for me.¡± Fialla complained, struggling into her own clothes.


    ¡°You know, in the Redstone, if you were the last to rise, you were the one to do all the chores.¡± Sheilah teased.


    ¡°Those Mist Prowler hides are so soft and comfortable.¡± Fialla complained, taking a leather thong and tying up Sheilah¡¯s hair, then kneeling down so Sheilah could do the same for her.


    ¡°I wonder if we can convince Magdalene if we can go hunt them again.¡± Sheilah mused.


    ¡°Probably not.¡± Fialla warned. ¡°Did you see how she looked at us when we came back?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a huge difference between hunting a totem and hunting a Mist Wolf.¡± Sheilah objected.


    ¡°She won¡¯t care.¡± Fialla replied in dolorous tones.


    The two traded commiserating looks and stepped out of the bedroom, hearing the strangled noise from Andrea, no doubt in reference to their clothes.


    What were they supposed to wear, though?


    ¡°Breakfast is being prepared and will be available shortly.¡± Andrea advised, and Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°Will it be with Toril and Magdalene?¡± She asked. Andrea shook her head slightly. ¡°Magdalene will be arriving a little late, as she is summoning seamstresses to take your measurements.¡±


    Fialla gave Sheilah a guarded look. ¡°Take what?¡± She asked warily.


    Andrea explained that clothes needed to be made to size, and for that, they would ¡®measure¡¯ the two of them, and then, using those measurements, make the clothing to fit.


    ¡°Huh.¡± Fialla replied.


    ¡°Is there something wrong with the bed, Princess?¡± Andrea asked.


    ¡°Wrong?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been slept in.¡± Andrea replied. ¡°If there¡¯s something wrong with it-¡±


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°There isn¡¯t anything wrong with it.¡± She replied. ¡°I don¡¯t...¡± She began, and then changed what she was going to say. ¡°I have never slept in one before.¡±


    Andrea rubbed her forehead briefly. ¡°For the time being, if there is something you don¡¯t understand, you should ask me. Understand you should do so discreetly, so as to avoid an embarrassment.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, and then leaned towards Andrea slightly and lowered her voice. ¡°It¡¯s something of a long walk to the privy at night.¡± She murmured. ¡°Also cold.¡±


    Andrea nodded. ¡°I will explain the chamberpot later this evening, assuming you will be too busy until then.¡± she whispered back.


    Breakfast was frustrating.


    She could not serve herself, she had to request the things she wanted, wait for all of them to be added to her plate, even when the food was right in front of her, and only then was she allowed to eat.


    She couldn¡¯t eat too fast, nor could she eat too slow. Her knife could not scrape on the plate when she cut her food.


    That was another thing- all her food had to be cut into bite size pieces before eating. She had to chew each bite carefully. While she was admonished that it wasn¡¯t ladylike to request additional plates of food, she did anyway until she was satiated.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t eat that much, Sheilah.¡± Magdalene warned cheerfully. She was both lively and much more relaxed than she was the previous day, as if a great deal of stress and tension had been discharged overnight.


    ¡°My mother Ladria would disagree,¡± Sheilah replied in an equally light voice. ¡°Sheilah,¡± She¡¯d say, ¡°You are a growing girl. You need to eat more so that your body can grow the way it¡¯s supposed to.¡±


    Magdalene blinked at that. ¡°Well, she¡¯s not wrong. But there¡¯s a difference between eating in public and eating in private. In public, you should only eat enough to be polite.¡± She paused and then added with a frown, ¡°and she is not your mother. I am.¡±


    Sheilah elected to ignore the last bit. Ladria may not have birthed her, but Ladria had raised her as her own, and she would give the respect where it was due.


    ¡°We¡¯ve eaten breakfast; what next?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve summoned my seamstresses here.¡± She made an offhand gesture. ¡°Andrea, be a dear and go bring them here, will you? The two girls and I will be in the dressing room.¡±


    With that, she led Sheilah and Fialla into a room that was just off to side of Sheilah¡¯s bedroom, and sighed dolorously. ¡°Your clothes are in an absolute state, my dear. I¡¯d faint from shock if I were seen wearing such... things.¡± She added, taking a seat. ¡°But, we¡¯ll do what must be done.¡±


    Sheilah gave Magdalene a frown that the older woman seemed to ignore.


    Fialla sat up straight as Shielah turned.


    ¡°There¡¯s six- no seven of them?¡± Fialla asked, pulling out her knife.


    ¡°One of them is Andrea.¡± Sheilah replied, but her own knife was in her hand.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Magdalene remarked, giving the two girls a puzzled look. ¡°The seamstresses? Wait, how can you tell that from here?¡± She asked.


    Sheilah and Fialla traded looks.


    ¡°It¡¯s a barbarian thing.¡± Sheilah replied drily. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± She added as Andrea and six seamstresses came into the dressing room.


    The seamstresses themselves were older women, even older than Magdalene, and they had Sheilah and Fialla out of their clothes in a twinkle.


    They poked and prodded and used lengths of cloth to measure their arms, across their chests, their spines, their waists, their hips, the length of their legs, the works.


    ¡°Toril also suggested that they get clothes for riding and fencing.¡± Magdalene interjected while sipping wine from a glass. ¡°Absolutely dreadful hobbies I should think, but he is the king.¡± she added, and the seamstresses began talking in some mystifying jargon that neither Sheilah nor Fialla could decipher.


    ¡°You¡¯re definitely going to be a tall one, Princess Sheilah.¡± One of the seamstresses offered. ¡°You aren¡¯t finished growing yet. Be certain to eat plenty of meat and cheese.¡±


    Sheilah shot Magdalene a look, who rolled her eyes in return.


    The seamstress who spoke to Sheilah looked at Fialla. ¡°It seems you¡¯re not finished growing either.¡± She added in a much cooler voice than the friendly tone she used with Sheilah. ¡°Do your best. I suppose.¡±

 Chapter 58

    Damiel picked up his teacup, a delicate porcelain that would be considered an incomparable treasure in the human lands, and took a sip of his herbal tea. Life in the elflands was so much better than in the beastly human lands, the food, the attitudes, the buildings, the people, the streets, everything was better in every conceivable way.


    He had no idea why he¡¯d ever decided to agree to travel to the human lands. Terrible idea, really.


    He was supposed to meet a cousin at this cafe, and discuss- well, it wasn¡¯t important- and that¡¯s when the sun went out.


    It was too dark to be a cloud; his head came up and all he could see was black, and not even the comforting dark of night, this was somehow more ominous- it blotted out the sun and sky and then the wind started to blow- no, no, this was something else, something different, something dreadful, the wind wasn¡¯t blowing, howling because of some storm, no, this was the presage of something far more appalling-


    I see you.


    His city exploded in fire, delicate spires melting like dripping candlewax, carriages boiling with flame, horses screaming and running as their hides caught alight, manes streaming ribbons of smoke as they immolated, his friends, his people, his countrymen shrieking as the concussive shockwave blew their searing bodies apart.


    Giant claws darker than pitch, darker than ebon, darker than midnight in a wine cellar reached out to crush him, this was a true vision, a true prophecy, ancient terror brought forth in modern light, there was no escape, no shelter, no safety, there was only endless destruction, endless purgation, and bone-shattering laughter of the harbinger of dust and ash-


    Damiel woke in his bed, drenched in sweat, his heart thundering in his chest as if it was trying to punch its way from his ribcage. He was curled in a little fetal ball, and his sheets were soggy.


    He opened one of the poorly manufactured windows and peeked out into the night, searching for the Dread with No Name.


    He stayed that way until long past morning.


    *****


    ¡°This is hard.¡± Fialla complained to Sheilah as they struggled with history. The books that were scattered across the table were as boring as they were fusty, dry and stale and lacked any sense of appeal.


    It was mostly records of Lord So-and-so, first of his name, acquiring this territory in the year of who cared, or Lady Whatever marrying into the line of Lord Pointless.


    Sheilah groaned and laid her head on the table. ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡± She complained. ¡°This is as stupid as that ¡®Language of Fans¡¯ you tried to teach me.¡±


    ¡°Ladies do not sit like that, Sheilah, Fialla.¡± Magdalene reminded the two of them sternly. ¡°And history is hardly boring. It¡¯s the grand tale of how Stormheim has grown, generation after generation, through hard work and dedication.¡± She paused. ¡°And it¡¯s absolutely critical to learn how to properly hold and use your fan at a social.¡±


    ¡°This is no tale.¡± Sheilah rebutted sarcastically. ¡°This is just a breeding record of which lord married which lady and birthed which children.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°The story of the First Blood is a real tale.¡± she agreed.


    Magdalene gestured with her hand at the half-written paper in Sheilah¡¯s hand, and at the page in Fialla¡¯s.


    ¡°Let me see your work, and if it¡¯s sufficient for today, then I¡¯ll have you tell me that tale.¡± Magdalene offered.


    The two girls passed their history work over to Magdalene, who reviewed it silently.


    After a few minutes, she passed both papers back. ¡°Sheilah, you forgot to mention about the loss of the Westheim line through the death of Alexton.¡± She set the paper down. ¡°It¡¯s why the Westlands are a ¡®protectorate¡¯ and not a Duchy, as it should be.¡±


    ¡°How did he meet his end?¡± Fialla asked curiously.


    ¡°Gnolls, apparently.¡± Magdalene replied indifferently. ¡°Dreadful beasts, or so I am told.¡±


    Fialla stiffened at the same time as a loud, harsh scraping noise resounded from Sheilah¡¯s side of the table. Sheilah abruptly pushed herself away, face pale, eyes flickering.


    Magdalene started at the noise, eyes wide at the long scratches in the polished wood, and darting to look at Sheilah¡¯s face even as a short puff of fire- actual fire- escaped from Sheilah¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°My- Caidi- my sister died because of your gnolls and- and that¡¯s all you have to say?¡± Sheilah gasped, staggering on her feet. ¡°You-¡± She stumbled and then sat down abruptly and cradled her head in her hands.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Fialla darted around the table to go to Sheilah¡¯s side, even as Magdalene tried to process, tried to understand what had just happened.


    She got up and moved towards Sheilah. ¡°Sheilah, dear-¡± She began, but Sheilah was panting. ¡°I can¡¯t- I can¡¯t breathe.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the corset, dear. It makes it hard to breathe when you¡¯re sitting like that.¡± Magdalene complained fussily. She pointed Fialla towards one of the low couches. ¡°Let¡¯s get her over there, where she can breathe.¡±


    Magdalene and Fialla pulled Sheilah to one of the low couches and laid her down.


    ¡°Sister? Fire?¡± Magdalene asked, struggling to make sense of what she¡¯d seen and failing.


    ¡°Fire?¡± Fialla asked, ¡°what are you talking about?¡± She asked, trying to cover up for Sheilah.


    Sheilah tried to roll over on her side, but Magdalene stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. ¡°If you want to breathe, Sheilah, you have to lay on your back.¡± The older woman turned to Fialla.


    ¡°I¡¯ve grown up surrounded by lies, Fialla. I can tell when someone isn¡¯t great at it. Now, out with it.¡±


    Fialla opened her mouth, then looked at Sheilah, and then up at Magdalene. ¡°Only if my sister gives permission, and only if-¡± She looked over at Andrea significantly.


    ¡°And her sister?¡± Magdalene asked. Fialla hesitated, but Sheilah nodded a little.


    Fialla compressed her lips together. ¡°We told you the story already. Caidi, Sheilah¡¯s littlest sister, died when we were hunting gnolls.¡± She paused and then added in a lower voice, ¡°Sheilah nearly died from grief.¡±


    ¡°You really should stop using them.¡± Sheilah wheezed. ¡°It seems like a double-edged sword.¡±


    Magdalene gave her a baffled look. ¡°Use them?¡± She asked, confused.


    ¡°My father told me: Stormheim releases gnolls into places they want to invade. They¡¯re smart, deadly, and reproduce quickly. It¡¯s a great way to keep the locals busy while you march in.¡±


    Fialla¡¯s eyes went wide, and she snatched her knife from her waist. ¡°You-!¡± She shouted, her voice filled with confusion and hurt.


    ¡°Don¡¯t, sister.¡± Sheilah urged, a hint of steel in her voice. ¡°We¡¯re not here for that.¡±


    ¡°Sheilah, no!¡± Fialla shouted, settling her feet and taking a stance. ¡°It¡¯s all their fault that you-¡±


    ¡°I said, don¡¯t.¡± Sheilah repeated, struggling to a sitting position. ¡°Put it away. I mourned Caidi¡¯s death. I was able to get my revenge.¡±


    Fialla bit her lip at this, and shot her a frustrated look.


    ¡°I swear to the Light that this is the first I¡¯ve heard of this.¡± Magdalene added in a shaky voice, hands raised.


    ¡°Well, now you know.¡± Sheilah replied sourly. ¡°And now it seems as though I need something to eat.¡±


    Sheilah looked up at Magdalene, who stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then turned to Andrea and requested a light snack.


    Sheilah shook her head. ¡°Meat. Meat and potatoes. Cheese. Milk. vegetables. I need a full meal.¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°You had best eat a full supper.¡± She warned, but relayed the request to Andrea.


    Sheilah pushed herself to her feet.


    ¡°While Andrea is gone, I will tell you - just a little- about myself, and how it relates to- to the First Blood.¡± She paused. ¡°Well, we were going to tell you the story of the First Blood, anyway. But this stays between us. I do not give you permission to tell anyone else, even Toril.¡±


    Magdalene raised an eyebrow at Sheilah¡¯s command, but nodded. They moved back to the table, and Magdalene eyed the deep furrows in the table. Sheilah glanced at them curiously, but ignored them. Her nails could carve through stone; a mark in a tabletop was nothing.


    ¡°In the very beginning, before even the Ancient Times, the one who was to become the First Blood, traveled to the Ashlands in the north, and there he slew a dragon and took in its heart and blood into himself.


    ¡°He returned to the Redstone, and gathered together the members of his clan, and had them do the same. He took a wife and had children. He was the First Blood, the first of the Dragon Clan. Other clans took his example, and made their own compacts with their own Totems.¡±


    Sheilah paused, and cocked her head as if she was listening to something only she could hear.


    ¡°The power of the Dragon is a dread responsibility, and its blood a powerful narcotic. For reasons that weren¡¯t passed down, he made many trips to the Ashlands and slew many dragons. Eventually he lost his humanity and became one, himself.


    ¡°His children, and their children after, and so on, each traveled to the Ashlands and slew a dragon and, like him, took into themselves the flesh and blood of a dragon.¡± Sheilah paused. ¡°The rule is one dragon for one person. Man or woman, you hunt a dragon to prove your worth, prove you are an adult. You are all inseparably bound to each other through the blood of the dragon.¡±


    She paused again. ¡°The Dragon Clan has birthed many legends and heroes, but the one who is above all those in the Dragon Clan is those of the First Blood.¡± She picked up a pen and drew the sigil of the Dragon Clan, then added the mark of the First Blood, and then below that, her own mark.


    ¡°This is my sigil.¡± She pointed to the sinuous mark, the spread wings. ¡°The T-¡± She corrected herself, ¡°The Dragon.¡± She moved a little lower. ¡°The First Blood.¡± She pointed a little lower, and Magdalene suddenly realized that the ¡®sigil¡¯ Sheilah had drawn was the same as the markings on the pouch Sheilah had handed her.


    ¡°And that¡¯s my mark.¡±


    Fialla gave Sheilah a guarded look, and Sheilah nodded at her.


    The half-elf took the paper Sheilah had drew on, and made her own mark. It was obvious to Magdalene that Fialla didn¡¯t belong to the First Blood.


    Sheilah gestured at the books with a wan smile. ¡°This is all very boring to Fialla and I. We were taught our histories alongside our meals. There are many heroes, many tales, many stories of daring and foolishness, luck and brutality, love and compassion.¡± She patted her chest. ¡°They all live here. Do you understand?¡±


    Sheilah stopped speaking and nodded towards the kitchen, then crumpled the parchment she and Fialla had drawn their sigils on, then tossed it into the fireplace, where it caught fire.


    ¡°We will have another conversation, you and I.¡± Magdalene promised, and then added, ¡°and a lady does not throw parchment like that.¡±

 Chapter 59

    He¡¯d passed out from the pain, and when he came to, he discovered it was nearly impossible to move.


    ¡°Bitch cut my tendons.¡± he snarled into the dirt, his back, his legs, and his arms searing with agony. His hands and feet ached with a dull throb that quickly ratcheted up to a scream when he moved them.


    He was certain the Mist Prowlers would come for him as he faded in and out of consciousness, but when they didn¡¯t, and he started feeling a little better, he tried to move, and discovered what that cheeky Wildling Elf had done to him.


    She¡¯d cut off most of each finger on both hands, leaving only token nubs. If his guess was right, his toes were gone, as well. What really made him worry was the nearly surgical cuts that severed the tendons at his elbows and knees, effectively hobbling him. He wouldn¡¯t be able to stand, or even crawl properly.


    He muttered a healing spell, but all that did was close the wounds and cleanse them against infection. He was effectively hobbled for life, unless he found someone with the miraculous capability for regenerative magic.


    His face curled into a mask of venomous hate. He¡¯d visit what that bitch did to him on her, her family, and any other Wildling Elf he found tenfold!


    Slowly, painfully, frustratingly, Artrus began to crawl.


    *****


    Sheilah and Fialla had been in Stormheim for a month. Their speech and mannerisms had improved dramatically though they were still barely literate, and almost completely useless with math over two digits.


    ¡°It¡¯s frustrating to constantly hear her talk about that tribe of savages as family, when her real family is right here, husband.¡± Magdalene complained. ¡°She talks of her mothers- mothers! Two of them!- and her father, and her sisters, but she still addresses you and I by name only.¡±


    She tossed herself into her chair, eyed a bit of discarded knitting, made a face at it, and picked up a book instead.


    Toril let out a sigh. ¡°Truthfully, I expected it. We gave her to them as a baby, Magdalene. She doesn¡¯t know better. We just need to get to know each other, and make sure she comes to understand that we are her family.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have done it. We shouldn¡¯t have given her to them.¡± She replied, closing the book with a snap.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Dark Elves had planned for her to ¡®disappear¡¯ like her brother.¡± Toril rebutted. ¡°We saved her life.¡±


    ¡°She can... do things.¡± Magdalene muttered. ¡°And I¡¯m not talking about the climbing.¡± She added. Sheilah had been admonished twice more for climbing around the castle.


    ¡°Davian could as well.¡± Toril replied blandly. ¡°I was hoping for it, actually.¡±


    Magdalene¡¯s head came up at that. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°One of Davian¡¯s handlers got tired of beating him and tried to poison him instead. Davian shrugged it right off, as if he hadn¡¯t even been poisoned. A useful ability for a princess in a country that is currently hostage to the elves, no?¡±


    ¡°Are you trying to sound smug?¡± Magdalene asked.


    Toril smiled a little. ¡°Not really. It¡¯s just... I want Stormheim to be free of the elves, Magdalene. Ideally while I am still alive. But if it¡¯s not while I¡¯m alive, then perhaps it will happen under Sheilah¡¯s reign.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t heard or seen anything of the Dark Elves since Sheilah arrived, Toril.¡± Magdalene worried.


    ¡°I know.¡± He agreed. ¡°Sheilah did... something- she won¡¯t say what, but she did something to Damiel that sent him packing. I haven¡¯t heard a peep from him, or the other one, either.¡±


    ¡°Did something?¡± Magdalene asked, worried.


    Toril lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. ¡°I was right there. She just stared at him, and he tore out of my office as if he¡¯d seen the Heart of the Abyss itself.¡±


    ¡°I think that worries me more than it should.¡± Magdalene replied.


    ¡°How well are the two of them learning?¡± Toril asked.


    Magdalene groaned in response.


    ¡°Give them a break. Take them horseback riding or something.¡± He suggested, and then paused. ¡°Didn¡¯t you promise to let them go hunting every weekend?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°They haven¡¯t asked, though.¡±


    Toril scratched his chin. ¡°That¡¯s no good. It¡¯s got to be tough on them. They need to be able to blow off some steam.¡± He grunted. ¡°My own uncle used to take me hunting from time to time on the edges of Thorheim forest when I¡¯d get frustrated with my studies.¡±


    ¡°Thorheim? I wouldn¡¯t let them go there.¡± Magdalene rebutted. ¡°Well, maybe Fialla.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not so bad on the outskirts. And they did hunt some Mist Prowlers without any problems.¡±


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    ¡°Too risky.¡± She immediately rebutted.


    Toril chuckled again. ¡°I learned a little of Davian¡¯s people while he was here with us. They¡¯re a fierce bunch. Taking them to the hunting preserve isn¡¯t going to give them the stress relief they need. Their tribe hunts predators, Magdalene. Things that can kill them. Taking them to the hunting preserve is like sticking them in a sheep pen with an axe. There¡¯s no challenge.¡±


    Magdalene toyed with the strange gem that Sheilah had given her; true to his word, Toril had it mounted into a pendant, and it nestled itself against the tops of her breasts. Sometimes she fancied she could feel a mild, not-unpleasant tingling from it.


    ¡°I believe I will retire for the evening, husband.¡± Magdalene decided, and stood up. She gave him a significant look. ¡°Will you accompany me?¡±


    *****


    Sheilah woke from a dream where she was hunting in the Redstone. She opened her eyes and slowly realized that for some reason Fialla was sprawled face down across Sheilah¡¯s body.


    ¡°A bed that could sleep ten people comfortably and she always ends up like this.¡± She muttered, and wormed one of her arms out from under Fialla¡¯s sleeping form. She prodded Fialla in the ribs hard with a finger, and the girl squirmed in her sleep. Sheilah jabbed her again, and Fialla woke up with an irritated look.


    ¡°Looks like I win again.¡± Sheilah greeted Fialla.


    ¡°What¡¯s the point of waking up this early if all we¡¯re going to do is read books?¡± Fialla complained, pushing herself upright and then laying down next to Sheilah. ¡°Reading is boring.¡±


    ¡°Says the one that is so much better at it than me.¡± Sheilah complained. ¡°I can stare at the stupid little squiggles all day and not make sense of them.¡±


    Fialla turned her head to look at the human girl. ¡°Really?¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°Father tried to teach me all the time in the Redstone, but I was never able to do it.¡± Her voice dropped lower. ¡°I always felt like I was letting him down when I couldn¡¯t understand.¡± Her voice dipped up, then. ¡°And now, here we are in Stormheim, and they keep telling me how important it is, and how important I will be, and how I need to know it...¡± She shook her head, and Fialla could see the glimmers of tears in the corners of her eyes.


    ¡°In the Redstone, we would not be looking at ¡®little squiggles¡¯ on a page.¡± Fialla replied, embracing her sister. ¡°Instead, we would be looking for a husband.¡±


    This teased a laugh from Sheilah.


    ¡°Princess, it¡¯s time to wake.¡± Andrea called from the other side of the door.


    Sheilah glanced at Fialla, who nodded, and they climbed out of bed.


    Sheilah called in the maid, who helped the two of them dress, then escorted them to breakfast.


    ¡°I am not looking forward to more books.¡± Sheilah muttered around a biscuit. At first, their novel taste and texture captivated her, but she was rapidly becoming bored with them.


    ¡°Your father, King Toril, will be taking care of your lessons for today.¡± Andrea replied, which caused Sheilah and Fialla to glance at each other in surprise. ¡°He seems to believe that an outing will be beneficial to your studies.¡± Andrea concluded, her tone suggesting that it was the most inane and stupid thing she¡¯d ever heard.


    Sheilah set down her biscuit and tried to think it through, unconsciously folding her arms the way Magdalene did. What sort of outing would Toril be suggesting?


    Her head came up as part of her mind warned her that someone was approaching her apartments.


    ¡°Andrea, someone is at the door.¡± Sheilah and Fialla announced, their voices overlapping.


    Andrea gave the two of them a subtle impatient look, but left the dining room and headed towards the door to welcome Sheilah¡¯s guest. She hadn¡¯t believed the two of them in the past, but consistency had proved them correct.


    What frustrated her was that it was her responsibility to receive the Princess¡¯ guests and announce them. Every time they warned Andrea, it felt like an admonishment and an insult to her capabilities as a maid. Further, it didn¡¯t seem as if the two girls were even malicious about it.


    When Toril arrived, Sheilah and Fialla greeted him in the way that Magdalene had instructed; he gave them a wry, bemused look and returned their greetings.


    ¡°We¡¯re going out.¡± He announced, and then paused. ¡°I have some gifts for you; I had the liberty of commissioning...¡± He trailed off, and then shrugged. ¡°Eh, we¡¯re going hunting for the next few days. I brought you some gifts. Get your bows and such and come on.¡± He finished in a much more casual and familiar tone than he had in the beginning.


    ¡°Our studies?¡± Sheilah asked, after trading looks with Fialla.


    ¡°On hold.¡± He replied casually. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go!¡± He urged.


    Sheilah nodded and looked to Fialla, and the two rose and headed to their room.


    ¡°I¡¯m still not used to not cleaning up after myself.¡± Sheilah muttered to Fialla, even though she was focused on the thoughts of picking up her bow and quiver.


    ¡°The idea of someone else picking up after me is weird.¡± Fialla agreed. In the Redstone, you did everything yourself. Only children were unable to look after themselves, and they learned to fix that quickly.


    ¡°Will you be able to fit into your dragon leathers?¡± Fialla asked curiously. ¡°You¡¯ve grown a bit.¡± She pointedly looked up at Sheilah, who had indeed grown.


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown, too.¡± Sheilah observed. ¡°And none of either of our families have had problems wearing theirs, so I imagine they will be fine.¡±


    Fialla nodded at that. ¡°Still, hunting at that place will be boring. Deer and pigs?¡± She added dubiously.


    The two girls picked up their bows; Sheilah once more contemplated the sword that Davian had crafted for her.


    ¡°I really want to learn the sword so I can carry this properly.¡± Sheilah muttered, hand on the blade.


    ¡°Will you take it anyway?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°I hardly think it¡¯s useful for hunting. It¡¯s too different from the clan¡¯s blades.¡± Sheilah replied, and then looked to Fialla. ¡°Your spear?¡±


    Fialla stretched out her hand and ran her finger down the dragonbone haft gently. She had been carving it in flowing elven script and Redstone symbols since they¡¯d arrived in Stormheim.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± She decided.


    ¡°I think you should.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°I should have brought a spear on my dragon hunt. You made the better choice.¡±


    Fialla shook her head. ¡°Not for something as ... pointless... as this.¡± She explained. ¡°It¡¯s like hunting livestock. There¡¯s no risk or challenge.¡± She paused. ¡°That thunderbird was an exception, and we happened upon it by chance, so don¡¯t you dare argue with me.¡± she added with a warning look.


    Shielah chuckled. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t argue with you over that, sister.¡± She said in a warm voice. ¡°But I will argue about the spear. Shooting with a bow is easy. Hunting with a spear is harder. It might be more challenging for you.¡±


    Fialla gave Sheilah a dubious look. ¡°I will, but only because you suggested it.¡±

 Chapter 60

    Toril appraised the two girls as they reappeared in Sheilah¡¯s foyer.


    ¡°Bows, quivers, a spear; you two look ready to hunt!¡± He cheered. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to this already!¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla traded wan looks, but nodded and gestured at Toril to lead the way. He looked startled for a moment, and then laughed.


    The girls looked at him confusedly, but he merely waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later. It¡¯s not important. Come, come. We¡¯ve got a long trip ahead of us.¡±


    He led them through the castle and to a side entrance, there was a carriage that was more sturdy-looking than the ones Magdalene had used, there were six guardsmen that Sheilah appraised carefully, cautiously, and there were a pair of larger carts that seemed filled with mounded boxes and barrels.


    The sky was clear, but barely visible in this part of the castle.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it before, how much I missed the sun.¡± Fialla muttered when they took a breath of the outside air.


    They stowed their gear into one of the carts, and climbed into the carriage with Toril, and after a moment, they set off.


    ¡°Magdalene, you know, she¡¯s been telling me about how hard you¡¯ve both been working.¡± Toril began. ¡°You know, when I was a child, I struggled with so much.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I hated reading. History was the worst.¡±


    Fialla nodded at that. Toril grinned. ¡°She gets it.¡±


    ¡°Whenever I thought my head was going to explode from all the reading and memorizing and the numbers, my uncle would come and get me and would take me hunting.¡± He continued. ¡°I figured you¡¯d be the same, so I gathered up a couple of tents, some supplies, ...some guards, obviously... and off we go.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been to the royal hunting lodge.¡± Sheilah offered, and Fialla kept silent, but rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Ha!¡± Toril cracked, causing both girls to jump. ¡°I knew it!¡± He slapped his knee for emphasis, and then leaned forward.


    ¡°When at all did I say we¡¯re going to the royal hunting grounds?¡± He asked in a low, conspiratory voice. ¡°There¡¯s an abandoned farmstead a few days out from here that we¡¯ll use as a rest stop, and then from there we¡¯ll set up a camp near the eastern edge of Thorheim Forest. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to hunt anything,¡± he shrugged, ¡°but you two can go nuts for three days.¡±


    Sheilah elbowed Fialla, who elbowed her back.


    ¡°See? I told you to bring your spear.¡± Sheilah pointed out.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°I think it was a good choice, too.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you think you¡¯ll be able to hunt?¡± Sheilah asked.


    Toril gave her a skeptical look. ¡°You really think they¡¯ll let me go chasing after beasts and monsters if there¡¯s a chance that I could die?¡± He asked. ¡°I¡¯m the king. Those guards out there would scare away any prey that came within reach of my spear anyway. I¡¯ll stay at camp with the guards, and wish you two good hunting.¡±


    Sheilah nodded thoughtfully. ¡°In the Redstone,-¡± She began, but Toril cut her off, ¡°¡®You live and die by your own strength¡¯, right?¡± He asked. Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°Davian told me as such. I¡¯ve envied him his freedom. In Stormheim, I have to be kept safe and protected, so that I can be king.¡± He let out a sigh.


    ¡°Mag- your mother, I mean- she was raised to be a lady, by women who were ladies and had been raised as ladies. She can¡¯t really understand what it¡¯s like to need to get out and hunt things. To feel the earth between your toes, to look up and see the sun and the sky and the stars at night.¡± Toril explained. ¡°But you also need to understand that when you turn sixteen, you will be considered an adult by Stormheim standards. That means you will be required to attend functions, host socials, and behave in every way as the Princess of Stormheim. It¡¯ll likely mean an end to all the hunting, fishing, fighting, sailing, and the like.¡± He shrugged. ¡°So you¡¯ll have to enjoy every little bit that you can, while at the same time prepare for its end in every way-¡± He gestured, ¡°- and that means learning reading, math, writing, and all ... that boring crap.¡±


    Sheilah nodded, but Toril had it wrong: She was already an adult. She¡¯d hunted and killed a dragon. She¡¯d walked the path of her Redstone ancestors, and had returned.


    *****


    When Magdalene arrived at Sheilah¡¯s apartments, She had to wait longer than she was used to. Normally Andrea was quite prompt in opening the door, almost as if she had been anticipating the queen¡¯s arrival, but today, she was surprisingly slow.


    After she¡¯d been let inside, she glanced around. ¡°Well? Where are they?¡±


    Andrea bowed respectfully. ¡°They... went out with the King, my lady. As scheduled.¡±


    Magdalene immediately frowned. ¡°This was not something I scheduled. And? When will they be back?¡±


    Andrea shook her head. ¡°He told them to bring their bows, and they left wearing those leather outfits of theirs. They didn¡¯t discuss anything about when they would return- or at least I didn¡¯t hear anything about it.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Magdalene pressed her lips together. The nerve of that man.


    ¡°Then now is a good a time as any. Your thoughts on Sheilah?¡± Magdalene pressed.


    Andrea shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t get a read on her. She¡¯s surprisingly close-mouthed,, and acts as if she¡¯d distracted... or not paying attention at all, but she¡¯s uncannily perceptive.¡± She paused. ¡°Both of them, actually.¡±


    ¡°To the study. I¡¯ll have a full report on them from you.¡±


    Andrea bowed respectfully and went to fetch tea.


    After Magdalene had a hot cup in front of her, she gestured at Andrea to continue.


    ¡°She struggles with everything you¡¯re having me teach, but she¡¯s no idiot.¡± Andrea paused. ¡°She tries to do what¡¯s asked of her, but...¡± She shook her head. ¡°If you¡¯re asking me my opinion, I think we should move to matters of manners and etiquette.¡±


    ¡°As long as she makes it by her debut, I think it¡¯s fine.¡± Magdalene agreed. ¡°And? What else?¡±


    ¡°It seems as if she truly treats Fialla like a little sister- Fialla certainly behaves like one to her.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t particularly care about the elf.¡± Magdalene replied simply. ¡°Stormheim would never countenance an elf as part of the royal family. They can call each other ¡®sister¡¯ as much as they like, but reality is reality.¡± Magdalene replied, and picked up her teacup and took a drink. After she had a long drink, she set the cup down.


    ¡°And what else?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s judging us, I think.¡± Andrea replied.


    ¡°The elf?¡± Magdalene replied, unsurprised.


    Andrea shook her head. ¡°Sheilah. I can see it sometimes. There¡¯s at least a part of her that is ...¡± Andrea paused for a moment, ¡°...cold. Calculating. As if she¡¯s deciding whether or not she needs us.¡±


    Magdalene raised an eyebrow. ¡°You think she could be thinking of heading back to that dreadful place we picked her from?¡±


    Andrea shook her head. ¡°I have no idea. As I said, she¡¯s tight lipped.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡± Magdalene asked.


    ¡°She always knows where I am. Always.¡± Andrea replied. ¡°Somehow she knows where everyone is.¡±


    Magdalene raised an eyebrow at this, but let it slide. Sheilah was strange and in some ways incomprehensible, but in the end she was Magdalene¡¯s daughter, and Magdalene refused to have a daughter that didn¡¯t do exactly as she wanted.


    *****


    Fialla threw herself down her bedroll and rolled over on her back, gasping and sweating. ¡°I... never thought... there would be something... like that.¡± She panted. After she caught her breath, she looked over at Sheilah, who dragged her sweat-soaked hair away from her face with a bloody hand.


    ¡°Ugh.¡± Sheilah complained. ¡°I never thought...¡± Sheilah began, but realized she was about to repeat her sister.


    ¡°That was a hunt.¡± Sheilah agreed. ¡°That was...¡± She let out a breath. ¡°I should have had a spear.¡± She complained. ¡°With the both of us it would have gone much better.¡±


    Fialla shook her head. ¡°No way.¡± she disputed, struggling with the laces on her dragonhide leather armor. ¡°A second spear wouldn¡¯t have worked.¡±


    ¡°My bow didn¡¯t do much.¡± Sheilah accused, carefully working with her own lacings. ¡°In the end it was your spear that finished it off.¡±


    Fialla took a long and shaky breath, held it, and let it out.


    ¡°An armored grizzly.¡± She mused. ¡°All that bone plating.¡± She shook her head. ¡°And those claws!¡±


    Sheilah nodded, and stripped out of leathers and began wiping herself down, using a small bucket of water and some bits of cloth, cleaning the blood off of herself.


    ¡°Not as dangerous as a Tyrant Dragon, but... unbelievably fierce.¡± Sheilah judged.


    Fialla laughed weakly as she sat up and began to strip out of her own leathers. ¡°My own dragon fight was easy because I caught it by surprise, but...¡± She began thoughtfully, ¡°but I think that bear was just as fierce, in some ways.¡±


    ¡°Careful.¡± Sheilah warned in a mock-serious voice. ¡°Dragons are the apex.¡±


    ¡°A dragonling would have been obliterated by that bear and you know it.¡± Fialla replied smartly, taking the rag Sheilah was using and wiping herself down.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried, sister.¡± Fialla began in a low voice. ¡°Your mother says that elves are not welcome in Stormheim.¡± She passed the rag back and examined her knee, probling it with her fingers. The bear had swiped at her and gave her a powerful blow. Her dragonhide armor had repelled the claws, but the crushing impact had broken her leg at the knee and it was only thanks to the dragon¡¯s Immortality that she¡¯d been able to regenerate. She was ferociously hungry and felt overwhelmingly weak and exhausted, but she felt like it was necessary to say what needed to be said before eating.


    ¡°Will we truly be able to find a man willing to accept the both of us?¡± She asked. ¡°I have been listening very carefully to Magdalene and Andrea, as well as the other servants.¡± She paused. ¡°What will happen when you have to make the choice?¡±


    Sheilah stiffened a little. ¡°You mean, you or him.¡± She answered. Fialla nodded.


    Sheilah finished wiping herself off and twirled her finger; Fialla presented her back, and Sheilah began wiping her down.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about a lot of things since before we met Magdalene. I¡¯ve never stopped thinking about things.¡± She slipped her arms around the slimmer elven girl. ¡°In the Redstone, they called you ¡®Sheilah¡¯s Shadow¡¯. You¡¯ve helped me out so much, I don¡¯t even know where and how to begin paying you back.¡± She kissed the back of Fialla¡¯s head. ¡°But here, we are the Daughters of the Redstone, the Daughters of the Dragon Clan, with the shared blood of the Tyrant in our veins. I say that makes us sisters, Fialla.¡± She squeezed the smaller girl tightly and laid her cheek against Fialla¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what will happen in the future, but I do know one- no, two things for certain.¡± Sheilah murmured. ¡°No, three. Well, a lot, but let¡¯s say three.¡±


    Fialla chuckled at that. ¡°Let¡¯s hear them.¡± She urged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never let you be alone.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°We¡¯re together.¡±


    After a long moment of silence, Fialla asked, ¡°And the other two?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m unbearably hungry and I¡¯m wondering how long it will take for you to finish wiping my back down.¡± Sheilah replied, ending with a laugh.


    ¡°Well, let me go and turn around, so I can wipe you down, sister.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°And then we can eat ¡®till our guts explode.¡±


    *****


    A small ship with delicate, wing-like sails rode the seas easily, slicing through the waves as if propelled by magic, its destination the harbor of Stormheim.

 Chapter 61

    Toril eyed Sheilah with a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow over the shared central fire that was between their two tents.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard- heard, mind you- that armored grizzly is hardly edible.¡± He offered in a low voice. ¡°Is it okay for her to eat it... like that?¡± He asked, worried.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°She got hurt during the fight. She needs to eat a lot to recover.¡± She replied simply.


    He nodded, relieved. ¡°If you say it¡¯s okay, I¡¯ll trust you.¡± He agreed simply. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the gifts you have, but I trust you understand how to manage them. I¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s undisturbed.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°An extra bucket of water to wash with would be nice.¡± She added.


    Toril let out a chuckle as one of the servants brought over a seasoned and roasted cut of Crystalhorn Deer meat, and expertly began carving generous slices for the two of them. ¡°There¡¯s a well at the farmhouse; water isn¡¯t a problem.¡± He replied, and picked up his knife and fork. ¡°I¡¯ve never had Crystalhorn. I¡¯m looking forward to this.¡±


    The two of them dug in, and Toril rolled his eyes approvingly. ¡°I feel like I have lived my life just for this moment.¡± He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s so good.¡±


    Sheilah let out a chuckle, but nodded. The meat was unbelievably tender, and somehow the people that prepared it had made it taste so much better than the last time she¡¯d eaten it.


    ¡°Oh, I wish we could capture a herd of them and let them breed in the preserve.¡± He mused. ¡°I would eat this, and this alone.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re difficult to hunt, Toril.¡± Sheilah rebutted. ¡°It just wouldn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Father.¡± Toril interrupted her. His voice was quiet, but there was a subtle sternness to it.


    Sheilah stiffened, and then carefully set down her utensils. She didn¡¯t say anything, but simply observed the man across the table from her.


    ¡°I am your father, Sheilah,¡± he continued in a low voice. ¡°and Magdalene is your mother. Please acknowledge it.¡± There were subtle elements of hurt, frustration, disappointment, and other emotions in the tone of his voice. ¡°It¡¯s not a denial of your family in the Redstone to acknowledge the family you have here.¡±


    Sheilah took a breath, held it, and then let it out, and then nodded. ¡°All right, father.¡± She replied.


    His hands trembled minutely; he set his own tableware down on the table and clasped his hands together. He let out a breath that was ragged with relief.


    ¡°Thank you, daughter.¡± He whispered. She nodded a little, and then picked up her own utensils.


    ¡°Is there a reason you waited so long?¡± He asked, hands still clasped. He didn¡¯t look up, as if afraid to look at her. That upset her, somehow.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Sheilah mused thoughtfully as she chewed. ¡°I think... I was looking for proof.¡± She decided, and then gestured at the wine bottle. He glanced at it, then her, and then passed the bottle and a wooden cup to her. She poured a generous splash into the cup and indifferently gulped it down, causing him to wince.


    ¡°Proof?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Something... something that resonated between us. Proof that I was your daughter; that you were my father.¡±


    His eyes widened, and then he gestured for the bottle. She passed it back to him.


    ¡°Like this.¡± He instructed, and carefully poured himself some, and then set the bottle down. ¡°Normally you would have someone nearby pour for you, but for now, it¡¯s just you and I.¡± He explained in a low voice, but then gestured for her to continue.


    ¡°When the Mist Prowler jumped out of the fog at us, you didn¡¯t hesitate to pick up a spear.¡± Sheilah murmured. ¡°I would have been able to kill it with my bow, but you got there faster.¡± A small smile grew on her face. ¡°You know the significance, right?¡± She asked curiously.


    He thought about it for a moment.


    ¡°To protect you?¡± He asked. She shook her head.


    ¡°I am an adult, and quite capable of dealing with one head on.¡± She replied. ¡°I was never in danger.¡±


    He smiled. ¡°It¡¯s because I did it, isn¡¯t it?¡± He asked. ¡°I picked up the spear and did it myself.¡±


    She nodded.


    He held up his cup. ¡°To the hunter that lives in the both of us.¡±


    Sheilah raised her own cup after a moment and clicked it with his and shared the toast.


    ¡°And your mother?¡± He asked. Her eyes narrowed at that.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± She replied. ¡°It¡¯s hard for me to feel that ... sense between us.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    He let out a sigh, nodded, and picked up his knife and fork. ¡°Let¡¯s eat.¡±


    *****


    The hunt was received in different perspectives: Toril was at turns delighted and terrified, but the end result was a bonding experience with his daughter, who acknowledged him as her father.


    Sheilah enjoyed it, but at the same time part of her was thinking about her mother and Andrea¡¯s reaction. In addition to that, it wasn¡¯t nearly as challenging, as exciting as her fight with the Tyrant Dragon. There was also a part of her mind that gnawed and worried at the problem of the Mother Tyrant that she¡¯d realized.


    There were so many things that the various parts of her mind thought about independently of each other that took away from the experience.


    Fialla delighted in the hunt, though she worried about Sheilah and their potential futures.


    The guards and servants that Toril had brought along were mostly indifferent about the hunt, but were terrified with the sudden arrival of the Mist Prowler in the middle of their camp.


    At the end of the expedition, everyone was in agreement that it was time to head home for a well-deserved rest.


    *****


    When Fialla and Sheilah arrived back at their apartments, they looked at each other and nodded. Andrea and Magdalene both were inside, waiting for them.


    ¡°Why do I feel like we¡¯re going to be scolded?¡± Fialla asked.


    Sheilah smiled a little. ¡°I hope not.¡± So saying, she pushed open the door and strode in, carrying her bundles.


    ¡°Do you know where you¡¯ve been?!¡± Magdalene began hotly as they closed the oversized door behind them.


    ¡°Of course I do.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Please excuse me, I have to find a place for these.¡± She pushed past Magdalene, who grimaced. ¡°Who said that it was okay to go... wherever it was that you went?!¡± she asked hotly.


    ¡°My father.¡± Sheilah called over her shoulder. ¡°Andrea, tea for three.¡±


    In Sheilah¡¯s room, Sheilah and Fialla placed their bows and quivers back where they had hung before, changed out of their dragonskin leather and into a pair of casual dresses.


    ¡°She¡¯s really winding up for a good one.¡± Fialla confided.


    ¡°My mother- Ladria, that is- was very good at that. Mayrin would just stare at me.¡± Sheilah replied. ¡°Her glare was cold enough to freeze you cold in the hottest summer.¡±


    Fialla shivered. ¡°My mother-¡± She shook her head. ¡°I come from a big family. There simply was not enough to admonish us individually.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a surprised look, but ruffled Fialla¡¯s hair. ¡°Shall I admonish you in her stead?¡± Sheilah asked.


    ¡°Certainly not. You are neither my lover nor my mother.¡± Fialla replied hotly. ¡°I am responsible for myself.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°Fair.¡± She gestured in the direction of Magdalene, who was in the study. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Magdalene stood in the study, arms folded. There were no teacups, or even a teapot. Andrea stood off to the side, hands folded at her waist.


    ¡°Why did you go with Toril?¡± Magdalene asked. There was a strange sense of anger in her voice.


    ¡°He asked me to.¡± Sheilah replied coolly. She thought of adding more, but decided to hold her tongue.


    ¡°Did you not consider what this little... adventure... you had would do to your lessons? Your schedule?¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Her strange partitioned mind churned away, considering different responses, different actions, and subjects that were completely unrelated. One was even dreaming, a simple dream of sitting on some high ledge in the Dragon Terrace, watching the sun die in the evening, shrouding the valley in golds and reds and purples.


    ¡°You are not to-¡± Magdalene began, but Sheilah held up her hand, cutting the older woman off.


    She could dream while awake?


    Sheilah lowered her hand, and faced Magdalene as her heart started to pound and her head started to buzz.


    ¡°You-¡± She began, then frowned, and nodded to herself. ¡°I see. That makes sense.¡±


    She nodded to herself again, and looked to Magdalene again. ¡°You¡¯re upset that I went on an outing.¡± She pointed out. ¡°I will point out why you are wrong.¡±


    Magdalene went livid, but Sheilah continued on. ¡°The outing was my father¡¯s decision. Your anger at me is wrong. If there is someone that is wrong- and I don¡¯t think there is- you would do wise to speak with him.¡± Sheilah stated coolly.


    ¡°You don''t seem to understand the trouble you¡¯re in, missy.¡± Magdalene snarled, and then launched into a tirade about responsibility and accountability.


    Sheilah idly looked around the room as her increasingly strange mind worked through the situation, providing and discarding responses. Magdalene¡¯s upbraiding washed over her and while she heard it, it was only a part of her mind that dealt with it, while the rest of her mind churned away on other things.


    Her growing indifference with the hunting seemed endemic of a larger problem: If there were no hunts that could challenge her quite like a dragon hunt, wasn¡¯t the obvious solution simply to hunt more dragons?


    Another part of her mind argued against it. It was forbidden, and she would absolutely lose her humanity, much in the same fashion that the First Blood had. The conclusion had already been reached.


    Andrea had disobeyed her by not bringing tea.


    If Andrea was hers to order around, then her disobedience meant that it was appropriate to mete out discipline, right?


    The way Andrea watched Magdalene, Fialla, and Sheilah, it was obvious that Andrea¡¯s allegiances were to her mother, not to her.


    If that were true, then what was the point of her existence?


    If she was a princess, wasn¡¯t disobedience a capital offense?


    Wasn¡¯t treason punishable by death?


    Tyranny only lasts as long as the one with the fist. The moment you lose your fist, I will be there.


    Where did that come from?


    Part of her consciousness alerted her; she was supposed to respond to something someone said.


    Oh, right.


    She refocused her attentions.


    ¡°Right. First, let¡¯s have her head.¡± She pointed at Andrea and drew her knife.

 Chapter 62

    Fialla went quiet as Magdalene began yelling. To Sheilah, Magdalene was a mother, but to Fialla, she wasn¡¯t. However, just because Magdalene was not her mother didn¡¯t mean she warranted disrespect, more, she was teaching the both of them, Fialla included, how to live and act in Stormheim society.


    So Fialla was a polite guest, followed Sheilah¡¯s lead, and tried to stay out from underfoot.


    Fialla wasn¡¯t certain about whether or not she wanted to live in Stormheim society, but as long as Sheilah did, so did she.


    Magdalene was angry, but Fialla couldn¡¯t understand why. Toril had come and taken them on their excursion- shouldn¡¯t he have conferred with Magdalene? Or, if not, shouldn¡¯t have Magdalene directed her questions towards Toril?


    Just as Fialla reached that conclusion, Sheilah replied with just that. That just seemed to incense Magdalene even further.


    Fialla watched Sheilah¡¯s eyes glaze over, which elicited a very tiny smile from Fialla; she too had stared off into space while her mother yelled.


    She watched Sheilah adopt an expression of concentration, brows drawing together, lips pursing. Her eyes started moving back and forth, and then, suddenly, there was the thin ring of molten gold- was Sheilah going to use Supremacy on Magdalene?


    ¡°Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?¡± Magdalene finally demanded.


    Sheilah blinked, seemingly coming back to herself. Her look of concentration cleared.


    ¡°Right. First, let¡¯s have her head.¡± She pointed at Andrea and drew her knife.


    Magdalene goggled, Andrea yelped, and Fialla stood up.


    ¡°Sheilah, I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Sheilah looked to Fialla, confused.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t we already have this conversation?¡± She asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Trust me when I say that I don¡¯t understand this sudden need to take her head.¡± Fialla replied, concerned.


    ¡°...Oh.¡± Sheilah paused for a moment, and then her eyes refocused, and her gaze shifted to Magdalene.


    ¡°Your problem is with father, not me.¡± She stated firmly. ¡°You two apparently need to work on your communication skills as to who gets the right to make decisions about my education.¡± She paused. ¡°Also, you have forgotten two things that you need to remember very quickly:¡± She straightened almost imperceptibly.


    ¡°I told you the very first day we met, right? I am an adult. Your anger is misdirected, and your attitude inappropriate.¡± She paused, shook her head a little, as if she was arguing with herself.


    ¡°Second, I agreed to come to Stormheim on my initiative. Whatever arrangements between Davian and my father have been fulfilled; I am free to leave at any time.¡±


    Magdalene grew pale at this, and Fialla was worried. What would be the best path of escape? Would they have to fight their way out? How much would they need to take? She was suddenly conscious of her bow, quiver, and her spear, and began mentally plotting how quickly she could get to them.


    Outwardly however, Fialla simply replied, ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what this has to do with Andrea¡¯s head, sister.¡±


    ¡°...Oh.¡± Sheilah stopped again. ¡°I requested tea. She didn¡¯t bring it. She¡¯s supposed to work for me, but it seems as though her allegiances lay elsewhere.¡± She looked to Magdalene. ¡°You did say she worked for you and your family, right?¡± She nodded to herself. ¡°It¡¯s been impressed on me that I need people that will want to work for me. As a person of authority, it falls to me to punish disobedience. Disobedience to a member of the royal family is treason. Treason is a capital offense. A capital crime is punishable by death.¡± This all came out in a disjointed, rambling mess. ¡°So, before anything else, including arguments with family, justice.¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± Magdalene yelled, even as Andrea sank to her knees. ¡°That¡¯s not justice, that¡¯s tyranny!¡± Magdalene shouted, and Sheilah blushed and licked her lips. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Fialla pushed Sheilah back a step. ¡°I don¡¯t think that you¡¯re thinking clearly.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I am.¡± Sheilah agreed. ¡°I thought for sure I was dreaming just a moment ago.¡±


    Fialla gave Sheilah a baffled look. What was that supposed to mean?


    ¡°I- I think it¡¯s best you lay down for a bit, Sheilah.¡± Magdalene interjected. ¡°Or at least take a bath.¡±


    ¡°A bath would be nice.¡± Fialla agreed, and pushed Sheilah towards the study door.


    *****


    ¡°You¡¯re not being very helpful, sister.¡± Fialla complained as she struggled to get Sheilah undressed. Sheilah was, for some reason, preoccupied with something, and that made her difficult to work with. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Sorry. Things are weird inside me right now.¡± Sheilah replied indifferently.


    ¡°You¡¯re definitely weird right now.¡± Fialla agreed. ¡°What was that you said about dreaming?¡± she asked, once again trying to get Sheilah¡¯s arm out of her sleeve.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± Sheilah replied, suddenly slipping out of her dress and pulling it over her head. ¡°- I feel weird, sister.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but a hot bath should at least help you relax.¡± Fialla suggested.


    ¡°That does sound good.¡± Sheilah agreed distantly, and then fell on her face in the doorway that led from the dressing room into the bath.


    Fialla eyed Sheilah and sighed. She slipped out of her own dress and blew a little fire into the brick stove that the bathtub was over. It was a neat trick that Sheilah had taught her, being able to tap into the powers of the dragonlings and whelplings she¡¯d eaten, instead of relying on the encompassing power of the dragon.


    Once the bath had grown warm, she picked Sheilah up, and half-dragged her into the large tub, only once slipping and dunking Sheilah headfirst into the water.


    ¡°You¡¯re a real hassle sometimes, you know that?¡± Fialla asked the sleeping Sheilah. After Fialla had soaked in the water a bit, she went and washed herself off, and then tended to Sheilah, who could not be roused.


    Fialla took a grim breath, and dragged Sheilah from the bath, through the dressing room, and into the bedroom. She knew she wouldn¡¯t be able to get Sheilah into the massive bed, so she dragged the human girl onto the mounded pile of Mist Prowler pelts, and covered her up. She went back into the dressing room, dried herself off, and redressed.


    After taking a few moments to psych herself up, she went in search of Magdalene. She didn¡¯t normally interact with the older woman without Sheilah, so she felt uneasy and awkward.


    She came into the study, and eyed Magdalene and Andrea, who had been in mid-conversation when she entered.


    ¡°Sheilah¡¯s sleeping.¡± Fialla reported, and briefly glancing at Andrea, she looked to Magdalene.


    ¡°Who should I ask- speak to-¡± she corrected herself, ¡°for food?¡± She asked cautiously.


    Magdalene let out a heavy sigh. ¡°Andrea.¡± She asked, and waved her hand.


    ¡°Right away.¡± Andrea replied, and hurried out of the study.


    ¡°I never thought she¡¯d say-¡± Magdalene began, but shook her head.


    ¡°So Andrea works for you, then?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Magdalene admitted, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. ¡°Andrea¡¯s trustworthy. There are a lot of important noble families in Stormheim, and plenty of them would love to work for Sheilah, but so many of them have their own agendas that it¡¯s impossible to trust them.¡± She paused. ¡°I wanted her to help me learn about Sheilah. Her likes and dislikes, her strengths and weaknesses. I only get to act like a mother with her for two more years. Once she¡¯s sixteen, she¡¯s a Princess and I¡¯m a Queen. I missed out on fourteen years of her life.¡± Magdalene explained simply.


    ¡°I could tell you about her.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°We grew up together in the Redstone. It¡¯s a land that kills the unwary.¡± She explained. ¡°I come from a very big family. I have seven brothers and sisters.¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s hard for my parents to keep an eye on all their children. I stuck with Sheilah ... ever since I can remember. We learned to survive together.¡±


    Fialla thought back to all the things she shared with Sheilah. ¡°She¡¯s very stubborn. And impulsive. She¡¯s indifferent to a lot of things, but... the things she cares about, she cares very deeply for them.¡± Fialla barked a laugh. ¡°She can be a real bitch sometimes.¡±


    Magdalene chuckled a little.


    ¡°My father- He was able to teach me- tell me what it was like to be a Wildling elf- a slave under the Dark Elves. Even though my mother¡¯s human, it was Sheilah that taught me about my human half.¡±


    Magdalene lifted her head and stared at Fialla. ¡°You¡¯re human? A slave? What?¡±


    Fialla gave Magdalene a flat look. ¡°My father is a Wild Elf. My mother is a woman of the Redstone, a human.¡± She paused. ¡°The Wild Elves were slaves under the others- the Dark and High Elves. Davian freed the Wildlings from them and led us from... wherever it was we were at, to the Redstone.¡± She looked down at her hands. ¡°He promised to keep us safe from the Dark Elves. All we had to do in return was work just as hard as they did to survive.¡± Fialla gave her a wry smile. ¡°It¡¯s only natural that half-elf children would be born from that sort of arrangement, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Magdalene nodded.


    ¡°But we were talking about Sheilah. Losing Caidi broke her. I think she¡¯s still a little broken.¡± She paused. ¡°There¡¯s also the Dragon.¡±


    ¡°The dragon.¡± Magdalene repeated.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Sheilah should be the one to tell you about that. But what I can tell you is that being part of the Dragon Clan changes you. All the clans work together, of course, but the Dragon Clan rules over them all.¡±


    Fialla ticked things off her fingers. ¡°She¡¯s stubborn. She¡¯s impulsive. She can be a bitch. She cares very deeply for some things. She¡¯s a little broken. She ... has the heart of a dragon.¡±


    ¡°Dragon dragon, dragon.¡± Magdalene complained. ¡°You keep talking about it like I should understand.¡±


    ¡°Sheilah would probably explain it to you if Andrea were not around. It¡¯s a sacred thing. Personal. It shouldn¡¯t be talked about with outsiders.¡±


    Magdalene thought for a while. ¡°So to you, I¡¯m an outsider.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°You¡¯re not my mother, my lover, or my family. I don¡¯t have any obligation to tell you anything.¡±


    ¡°And yet we¡¯re having a conversation.¡± Magdalene observed drily.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing lost by being polite and respectful.¡± Fialla shot back. ¡°Oh. Sheilah¡¯s oblivious to things, sometimes.¡±


    Magdalene gave her a baffled look.


    Fialla frowned. ¡°Andrea is coming back this way, so I¡¯ll be brief: Our clan is large, but spread out. There are gatherings sometimes to meet people, if you catch my meaning.¡±


    ¡°To find husbands, wives.¡± Magdalene guessed.


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Sheilah completely missed the point, and only went to compete in the games.¡±


    Magdalene burst into laughter at that. ¡°I- we have similar things. I did the same.¡± She leaned forward.


    ¡°How do you-¡± She cut herself off as Fialla turned towards the door.


    Andrea stepped inside. ¡°A meal has been prepared for you two.¡±


    Fialla nodded and got up to leave. Magdalene grimaced, but got up to go to the dining hall, herself.

 Chapter 63 Bonus: Dragon Clan and Sheilahs Abilities

    ¡°What defines and makes a Dragon a Dragon is Immortality, Calamity, Indomitability, and Supremacy.¡±


    ¡°A Dragon isn¡¯t a Dragon if it is not Immortal. The Tyrant is eternal, demanting subservience and destruction for all time. When you hunt your Dragon in the Ash Wastes and take in its power, that power of Immortality is passed to you in the boon of healing.¡±


    ¡°A Dragon is defined by its thirst for endless, perpetual destruction. Nothing satisfies; everything must burn.¡±


    ¡°Indomitability is to have a body that defies the strongest attacks and most debilitating injuries. The Tyrant will shrug off anything that is unworthy of its might. When you succeed, the boon that will be passed to you is a resistance to plague and poison.¡±


    ¡°The final element of the Tyrant is Supremacy. Supremacy of the sky, supremacy of all that lay beneath it, the absolute defiance against any authority that is not itself and the indomitable will to refuse any authority that does not come from itself.¡±


    In the Redstone Valley, there are a number of clans of people that venerate Totem Animals, and above them all is the Clan of the Dragon.


    For the purposes of this document, and in keeping with the lore of the world, there are two types of Totems: Greater Totems and Lesser Totems. The Clans of the Redstone, in keeping with their cognitive bias, recognize this in a specific way that may or may not reflect how the rest of the world sees things.


    Your mileage may vary.


    What separates a Greater Totem from a Lesser Totem to the Redstone really boils down to ¡°How far are you willing to travel?¡± For the Dragon Clan, children trap dragon whelplings/ hatchlings/ pups, and then as they grow, they challenge the juvenile dragonlings until they¡¯re ready to make a perilous journey to the Ashlands, where they challenge an adult Dragon.


    For Lesser Totems, like the Timberwolves, they hunt Timberwolf pups and juveniles until they¡¯re ready to hunt an adult timberwolf, and then they do so- there is no journey to the Ashlands, they simply hunt their Totem in their own territory.


    How far are you willing to travel?


    Setting that aside, the gifts that a Clan Member receive from their Totem Animal are boons and take the form of Greater and Lesser Boons.


    Davian, because he is operating on what he has been taught and what he has learned, believes that Calamity, Immortality, Indomitability, and Supremacy are all that are received from the Dragon. His grandfather taught him that, his great-grandfather taught him that, who in turn learned from their fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers (and mothers, there¡¯s no distinction in gender).


    Really, those are Greater Boons, and just as there are Greater Boons and Lesser Boons, the Dragon passes down Lesser Boons as well.


    With the exception of one clan- and since it has nothing to do with Dragon, we can ignore it- only Lesser Boons are inheritable.


    So let¡¯s talk about that, for a second:


    When you¡¯re born to a clan, you hunt and make your kill and you get abilities. Cha-ching. These are not inheritable. You can¡¯t pass them down to your children. What isnt known is that Lesser Boons are.


    There¡¯s some flexibility there, too: Boons are not distributed equally! We can use RPG mechanics and say that they¡¯re given a strength of 1-6 for each Boon.


    How it¡¯s determined really boils down to the hunter¡¯s aptitude for particular Boons and the quality of what they hunted.


    For instance, there are several different types of Dragons, based on maturity. The more mature, the stronger the Boon rewarded.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    We''ll use a 1-6 scale:


    Young Dragon: 1-2


    Adult Dragon: 3-4


    Tyrant Dragon: 5-6


    The Greater Boons for Dragons are:


    Supremacy- You could characterize this as the old D&D Dragon Fear that came with dragons- just the sight or presence of a dragon would inspire dread and terror. Just being near something as dreadful and terrifying as a dragon would cause you to crap your pants. You could also characterize this as the old anime standby, ¡®killing intent¡¯. It¡¯s a fear so intense it overwhelms everything. There¡¯s more to it than just fear, take a look at Chapter 26 when Sheilah uses Supremacy. It can also be directed at a specific person or thing.


    Calamity- Breathing fire. This fire can differ in intensity.


    Immortality- regeneration and increased pain tolerance.


    Indomitability- immune to toxins and disease.


    The Lesser Boons for Dragons are:


    Healthy Body: less likely to be born with defects, able to extract more useable and essential material from foods, scarred areas are able to be restored to an unscarred state, and a slightly longer lifespan.


    Strengthened Senses: Dragon Clan members are able to see a little further and with greater detail. Hear smaller sounds, and can distinguish individual sounds from each other- can sort out a single voice from a crowd- can theoretically track by smell, though this isn¡¯t something that¡¯s conscious, they just think they¡¯re better trackers. They also have a stronger vestibular sense.


    Inherited Memory: some memories are passed down generationally, and so rather than something being learned, they¡¯re remembered.


    Water vulnerability: This hasn¡¯t been covered yet.


    There¡¯s also the razor sharp/ hard as steel fingernails you get as you eat whelplings, but this is not inherited.


    Neither is the constant ¡°I want to be as high up as possible so that I can look down on things¡±.


    Neither is the addiction. I¡¯ve mentioned it before, but Dragon blood is a powerful drug.


    Now we get to Sheilah, and by extension, Fialla.


    Sheilah¡¯s abilities:


    Sheilah has all of the Greater and Lesser Boons, as befitting a member of the First Blood of the Dragon Clan. There¡¯s some juggling going on behind the scenes, however.


    Since she wasn¡¯t born to the Clan of the Dragon, she initially didn¡¯t start out with the Lesser Boons, but she gained them throughout her childhood and teen years through eating whelplings and dragonlings.


    Sheilah doesn¡¯t have any inherited memories, since she wasn¡¯t born from the Dragon Clan. This is mitigated by being taught things she should have ¡°remembered¡± by her family, and her encounter with the spirit of Adlan.


    If there were stats, Sheilah would be 6¡¯s across the board- she killed and ate two dragons, after all. Fialla would be straight 4¡¯s across the board, which is actually really remarkable given her disposition and the dragon she hunted. Someone else like her (an elf) would normally be twos and threes, but because she pushed herself to ¡°do whatever Sheilah can do¡± her whole life, she gets a stat bump across the board.


    Sheilah has gained two Draconic Abilities that are not Boons. In fact, to the Dragon Clan in general, they would be considered taboo to have.


    Parallel Processing- Her mind is dividing up to focus and concentrate on different things simultaneously. Sheilah can pay attention to her meal while watching someone else eat while paying attention to her surroundings and holding an engaged conversation with someone without losing focus on any of them.


    Spatial Perception- A sense beyond human senses. Something like a passive sonar or radar that allows her to be constantly aware of things around her in a set radius. It also allows her to remember which directions she¡¯s taken- she can backtrack perfectly- and gives her a general sense of direction. She can also distinguish things- She can tell whether or not Fialla or Magdalene or Andrea were behind a door or wall.


    Fialla has Spatial Perception, but it¡¯s smaller than Sheilah¡¯s. She lacks Parallel Processing, but she does have a stronger memory in a general sense.


    The Dragon Clan of the Redstone- all of the clans of the Redstone- are a little more than human. Or less than human. We can say that if the average person is 100% ¡°human¡±, then someone from the Dragon Clan would be 97%- 95% human with 3%-5% being Dragon. It¡¯s a minor but important distinction. You have to give up ¡°being human¡± to be a Clansman, to a degree.


    For the most part this is fine. It¡¯s a small percentage. Your hair and nails turn black. You heal quickly. You can breathe fire once in a while. You don¡¯t get sick. Not a bad tradeoff.


    But if you go beyond that small percentage, then it gets serious. You start becoming less and less human, both physically and mentally. Dragons have their own desires and impulses and they may not align with human desires and impulses.

 Chapter 63

    ¡°I got into a fight with Sheilah because of you, you know.¡± Magdalene accused Toril at dinner.


    Toril rolled his eyes. ¡°Taking the girls hunting was good for them. They enjoyed themselves. Just because you don¡¯t get it-¡± He stopped, and picked up his napkin and wiped his hands. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Magdalene let out a breath in a long sigh. ¡°You might not know this, but I look forward to teaching Sheilah.¡± She paused. ¡°Fialla too, I suppose.¡± she added. ¡°I get to spend time with the daughter I had so long ago. Even when it drives me up the wall.¡± She shook her head. ¡°So when they came back from their perfectly reasonable outing with you, I stupidly lost my temper for no reason at all.¡±


    Toril grimaced. ¡°How bad?¡± was all he asked.


    ¡°Bad or worse news?¡± Magdalene asked, but waved her hand to indicate it was a rhetorical question.


    ¡°She obviously put me in my place, since the outing was your idea and not hers.¡± Magdalene explained. Toril nodded at that.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°She told me that since she¡¯d returned to Stormheim, the arrangement with Davian was fulfilled, and if she chose to, she was free to leave at any time.¡±


    Toril lowered his head into his hands. ¡°Oh, no.¡± He groaned. He took a long breath, and when he looked up at her, there was anger in his expression. ¡°If she does decide to leave, you realize this is completely on you, you know. I¡¯m not-¡± He started, and realized his voice was rising. ¡°She¡¯s our only heir, Mag. I don¡¯t know what -¡± He cut himself off again, and got up from the table and paced around a little.


    ¡°What else?¡± He finally asked after a minute of pacing.


    ¡°She pulled her knife and decided to cut off Andrea¡¯s head because she didn¡¯t bring tea.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°Fialla put a stop to that one though, and by that time Sheilah was behaving... really oddly at that point. Fialla explained to me that Sheilah... might be a little... unstable.¡±


    Toril froze at that. ¡°Oh, no.¡± He repeated. ¡°Normally there might be ways around it, but-¡± He sighed again. ¡°We¡¯ll have to do our best.¡± He looked at his wife. ¡°You¡¯ll have to do your best.¡±


    Magdalene nodded. ¡°Do you know about her ... powers? Gifts? Whatever they should be called? Is it magic?¡±


    Toril firmed his mouth. ¡°I know a little from what Davian told me. From what others saw of him. I know it¡¯s not magic. I know she has gifts, but since they¡¯re hers, I decided to trust her to use whatever those gifts are, responsibly.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re doing better than me.¡± Magdalene complained bitterly.


    Toril laughed at that. ¡°Of course I am. She calls me ¡®father¡¯ now.¡± He replied smugly.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be absolutely incorrigible now, aren¡¯t you?¡± Magdalene complained.


    ¡°No, not really.¡± He replied simply. ¡°I earnestly hope for the day she calls you mother,¡± he added.


    ¡°Can-¡± Magdalene began, but held back.


    ¡°Mmm?¡± Toril asked, turning his attention to her.


    ¡°Can I sleep with you tonight?¡± Magdalene asked in an uncharacteristic, nervous, childlike voice.


    Toril nodded, came around the table they shared, and held out his hand, which she took. As she rose to her feet, he captured her in a hug.


    ¡°We¡¯ll figure out a way to deal with this, Mag.¡± He murmured in her ear.


    *****


    In her dream, Sheilah stood in the ashen wastelands of the Burning Lands, her clothes wavering between a Stormheim dress and her comfortable dragonskin leathers. Her feet grit in the ash and dust, and little bits of pumice ground beneath her feet.


    A skeleton of a Tyrant Dragon lay nearby, one of its massive teeth missing. Sheilah was certain that she¡¯d be able to see marks on the ribcage where she cut into it with her knife if she checked, although she had no pressing need to.


    Another version of herself stood next to the skeleton. Her eyes glowed with feral light, her dragon skin armor seemed to have become part of her somehow, and two gleaming bone horns erupted from her hair at the back of her head. She grinned at Sheilah, revealing a mouthful of predator¡¯s teeth.


    Neither of them said anything. Nothing needed to be said.


    They lunged forward, clawed hands slamming into each other, a twinned scream rising from their throats as Supremacy warred against Supremacy.


    For a few minutes, everyone in the city of Stormheim felt themselves caught in the paralyzing grip of dread and fear. Since most of them were asleep, it filtered into their dreams, forcing them to confront terrible nightmares.


    Babies cried, and their mothers were unable to soothe them, even as their own adrenaline forced their hearts to race as they uneasily clutched their children to their breasts. Some of the elderly, the infirm, the weak died in their beds.


    Dogs cringed and howled at the night, pigs squealed, chickens in their coops, mice huddled in their holes as cats darted from place to place, seeking refuge from a menace that couldn¡¯t be seen, heard, or smelled.


    Damiel dreamed of a great, shadowy monster of darkness and flame, crawling its way out of some hidden recess of the world while Eatha, the wife of the missing Artrus reached for the empty space in her bed where her husband used to sleep and trembled.


    Magdalene and Toril reached out towards each other, seeking comfort from a fear neither of them could understand.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Fialla struggled to wake Sheilah, despite her own terror telling her to run from her sister.


    The nameless, shapeless fear that spread across the city lessened, faded, and vanished. Babies calmed, the dogs silenced, animals slowly and reluctantly settled down, and Sheilah opened her eyes to look up at Fialla.


    *****


    In the morning, Sheilah was listless and exhausted, but ate ravenously, working through several helpings. Andrea tried to stay out of Sheilah¡¯s line of sight initially, but she was pretty sure that Sheilah was aware of her anyway, given her baffling ability to seemingly see through walls. Eventually, it became obvious to her that Sheilah was ignoring her.


    Magdalene showed up as she usually did, though she seemed a little bit more reserved than she usually was.


    ¡°Today, we¡¯re going to go through the fundamentals of dance.¡±


    ¡°Dance?¡± Fialla asked curiously. ¡°We have dance in the Redstone. I wonder if it¡¯s anything like Stormheim.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll find out.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°There¡¯s a room set aside for dance training in the North Wing-¡± She began, but Sheilah gave her a puzzled look and interrupted her.


    ¡°Does there really need to be a separate room for each individual thing?¡± Sheilah asked, with an irritated frown.


    ¡°For learning how to dance, yes.¡± Magdalene replied. She pointed at her feet, and took a few steps. ¡°There are diagrams painted on the floor that will show you how to move your feet.¡± She gave a little shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve even found you a practice partner.¡±


    Sheilah thought for a moment, and then nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve given you a couple of dancing dresses for you two to change into. They¡¯re the blue and green ones. Once you¡¯re dressed properly, we¡¯ll head over and get started.¡± She made a little shooing gesture with her hands, and moved the study, making a little gesture with her hand at Andrea.


    Sheilah exchanged looks with Fialla, and then headed to the dressing room.


    ¡°Do you plan on killing Andrea?¡± Fialla asked as they changed into their ¡®dancing¡¯ dresses.


    ¡°What? Why would I-¡± Sheilah began, but cut herself off. ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°You remember.¡± Fialla confirmed.


    ¡°My mind was all over the place, but I remember that much. And no, I don¡¯t plan on killing her. Trusting her- no.¡±


    Fialla nodded.


    *****


    The Dancing Room didn¡¯t just have the movements for one dance inscribed on the floor, it had the foot work for every dance inscribed on the floor, each set of footprints designated by a number, which made Sheilah glare at Magdalene- because Magdalene knew she was bad at numbers.


    Fialla, who was better at recognizing numbers and making the association between symbol and representation, could see that corresponding diagrams on the walls illustrated the accompanying arm movements for each dance.


    She tapped Sheilah¡¯s shoulder, and pointed on the floor, and then to the diagrams on the wall.


    ¡°Ugh. I don¡¯t know what any of this means.¡± Sheilah complained.


    ¡°You¡¯re just intimidated. It¡¯s really quite simple.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°I¡¯ll show you-¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla immediately frowned and lifted their chins arrogantly, like mirrors. ¡°I¡¯m not intimidated.¡± they replied in stereo.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Magdalene replied, an eyebrow lifted. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll demonstrate. This is the basic waltz," Magdalene explained, pointing to the first set of footprints. "It''s the foundation of all Stormheim dances. Let''s start with the first eight steps."


    She demonstrated the sequence, her movements fluid and graceful. ¡°Watch the floor, where I put my feet.¡± She pointed to the diagrams on the floor, and then began dancing, back straight, eyes forward. Her feet matched the diagrams perfectly, despite never looking down.


    She stepped away from the diagram. ¡°You recall when I pointed out how to walk- how to carry yourself as a lady- that a woman walks with a rhythm, a cadence and posture that reflects grace and poise. You two at the beginning looked like cats stalking mice. There¡¯s grace in that, but no elegance. Also, a lady does not stalk, she glides. She is no warrior, because she has others to be warriors for her. She is no predator, because... well, there¡¯s no need for her to hunt.¡± She stumbled over the alliteration towards the end.


    She paused. ¡°Well, sometimes there are men worth hunting.¡± She murmured with a fond smile. After a moment, her face cleared, and gestured to the footprints in the floor. ¡°First, practice the movements here, as I showed you. Normally, they¡¯re accompanied with a man who will face you, one hand on your hip, like so.¡±


    ¡°How does she do it?¡± Fialla marveled quietly.


    ¡°Practice, obviously.¡± Sheilah replied, but frowned with a stubborn expression. ¡°I¡¯ll have to concentrate if I am to get this properly, so hush.¡±


    Sheilah and Fialla mirrored her actions, their initial clumsiness gradually giving way to a semblance of rhythm.


    ¡°You¡¯re picking it up very quickly.¡± Magdalene encouraged. ¡°Two more rounds of that, and then I¡¯ll have your partner join in and help.¡±


    She gestured, and Andrea moved towards the door, revealing a young man they¡¯d met before; although the last time they¡¯d seen him he was somewhat disheveled and very drunk.


    ¡°Sten Jurgenheim.¡± Fialla muttered warily.


    ¡°You should have invited Tierra as well, Aunt.¡± Sten greeted the older woman. ¡°That one is in desperate need of a feminine instruction.¡±


    ¡°Tierra?¡± Magdalene asked, confused. ¡°Tierra, Tierra...¡± She mused. ¡°The Hallstrom daughter?¡± She asked, and Sten nodded.


    ¡°She¡¯s halfway to becoming a man as it is, wearing a man¡¯s armor and swinging a sword around.¡± He complained.


    ¡°The Hallstrom holdings are in the Southlands, if I recall correctly.¡± Magdalene murmured. ¡°Far enough away that they can forget that they are a part of Stormheim. It¡¯s a frontier land, barely civilized. I¡¯ve heard there are barbarians that live-¡± She cut herself off at that.


    Sten let out a sigh, and turned to the girls that were practicing their steps.


    ¡°A little old to be learning a basic waltz at this level.¡± He muttered, confused. ¡°And those ears on the other one- an elf? You want me to dance with an-¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a half- elf,¡± Magdalene corrected, ¡°And absolutely needs to be kept as far away as possible from the Dark Elves. She has... expressed an... intense murderous opinion on their continued presence.¡±


    He gave Magdalene a confused look. ¡°A half-elf?¡± He asked, baffled and amazed. He switched tacks quickly though. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the problem, Aunt. Point her in the direction of them and let her go nuts.¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°If we did, the elves would treat it as an act of war, and we would all be dead in a year at the earliest.¡±


    He took a startled breath and let it out. ¡°Well, that certainly explains a lot of things, given the state of our forces.¡± He muttered. He straightened.


    ¡°Dancing, was it?¡± He asked, with a pointed look. ¡°Well, I can do that much, at least.¡± He tugged on his jacket, straightening it. ¡°The other girl- the one without the pointed ears- she¡¯s cute. Has she debuted yet?¡± He asked.


    ¡°No, not yet.¡± Magdalene replied, an expression of mild amusement growing on her face. ¡°You like her, is it?¡±


    He smirked a little. ¡°A little, yeah. What¡¯s her name?¡±


    ¡°Sheilah. I¡¯m watching over her- polishing her up for her debut.¡± Magdalene replied, her smile growing.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± He asked, a smile of his own, completely different from Magdalene¡¯s in intent, growing on his face.

 Chapter 64

    ¡°It¡¯s difficult to move like this without looking at my feet.¡± Sheilah complained. ¡°Like trying to walk in the Redstone without checking for snakes and lizards.¡±


    Fialla nodded. ¡°Every instinct keeps telling me to be wary of my feet.¡± She complained softly to Sheilah. ¡°I don¡¯t know how Magdalene does it so easy.¡±


    ¡°Easily.¡± Sheilah corrected.


    ¡°Right.¡± Fialla muttered.


    Sheilah stepped back and studied the patterns on the floor very carefully, and then the diagrams on the wall. She then stepped in the first position and followed the steps, remembering in her mind the posture and movements Magdalene herself had demonstrated.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t so bad.¡± Fialla decided, and Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°Better than numbers and reading, at least.¡± she agreed.


    ¡°Sheilah!¡± Magdalene suddenly called. She looked up, and took notice of Sten again.


    He was somewhat handsome to her, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, and he did carry a knife on his hip, which raised her approval of him, but her first interaction with him had been overwhelmingly negative.


    He¡¯d been staggering drunk during the daytime, like Atta¡¯s father, back in the Redstone, and he¡¯d reeked of sweat and sex and other things, things she couldn¡¯t identify.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to be your dance partner.¡± Magdalene called, even as he approached.


    ¡°My lady.¡± He greeted, and held out his hand. She took it, and the dance began.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to make mistakes.¡± He encouraged. ¡°I made a lot of them in the beginning.¡±


    Sheilah grimaced at him; he was much too close to her, his hand was on her hip, his smell was atrocious, and the hand she held was soft and spongy, like a baby¡¯s.


    She stumbled, he pulled her closer, she pushed him away, and stumbled back. He adopted a look of patience. ¡°You¡¯re getting the steps well, but there¡¯s more to it than moving your feet.¡± He encouraged. ¡°You just need to be patient, follow my lead, and it¡¯ll click for you.¡±


    She held her hand out for him, he stepped in, and once again came much too close to her for comfort. ¡°What we really need is music.¡± He encouraged. ¡°When I learned how to dance, there was no music, like now. I thought I knew how to dance, but when I attended my first ball, I discovered I didn¡¯t know how to dance to the music at all.¡± He gave her a wry smile. ¡°I embarrassed myself more than once.¡±


    She nodded as they made a circuit.


    ¡°You need to loosen up.¡± He added. ¡°You¡¯re much too tense.¡±


    She pushed away from him. ¡°You¡¯re too close.¡± She complained.


    ¡°Oh?¡± He murmured. ¡°Don¡¯t you want me even closer?¡± He whispered and pulled her closer.


    She pushed him back again.


    ¡°I do not.¡± She stated flatly.


    He sighed and rolled his eyes ostentatiously, and offered a patronizing expression. ¡°Sheilah, you have to dance this close if you¡¯re going to waltz.¡± he stated. ¡°It¡¯s not just about your feet. You have to move your arms, your waist, and your hips. It¡¯s a dance.¡± He held his hand out for her again.


    She eyed it distastefully. Davian, her father, his hands were rough, strong, worn and callused from work. The other men¡¯s hands she¡¯d held for one reason or another in the Redstone were strong and worn. Sten¡¯s were baby soft, smooth, and unmarred. It felt weird in her own hand.


    Plus he was much too close when they danced, as if he was trying to press himself against her, or pull her against himself.


    His smell was also unpleasant. It was obvious that before he¡¯d shown up, he¡¯d been with a woman. He reeked of sweat and sex and some hastily added perfume.


    She didn¡¯t want to dance with him.


    She looked back at Magdalene, who eyed her curiously, but indifferently. She looked at Fialla, who grimaced and pinched her nose a little. Sheilah nodded.


    ¡°One more circuit, what do you say?¡± He asked. ¡°It can only get better from here.¡±


    Sheilah¡¯s stomach churned, but she took his hand, and allowed him to pull her into the dance. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    After they completed one revolution, she immediately pushed away from him and stepped back, struggling with her stomach.


    ¡°That was much better.¡± He praised.


    ¡°Of course it was.¡± Sheilah retorted. ¡°I held my breath.¡±


    His head tilted to the side a little, even as Magdalene approached to comment.


    Sheilah racked her brain for the right words to say, to explain herself.


    ¡°You should talk to your mother.¡± She decided.


    He gave her a confused look. ¡°My mother?¡± He asked.


    She nodded her head. ¡°You need to ask her to teach you how to bathe.¡±


    He immediately went livid and spluttered, ¡°I have never been so insulted in my life!¡±


    Magdalene moved to defuse the situation before it escalated, but Sheilah continued. She didn¡¯t know the words in Stormheim¡¯s tongue, so she switched to Redstone, which made Fialla¡¯s eyes widen.


    ¡°You should wash yourself after having sex with your woman. It¡¯s common courtesy. Do you not do that here? Your clothes smell bad, too.¡±


    Magdalene blinked at her, confused, and then looked at Fialla. ¡°Can you tell me what she¡¯s saying?¡±


    Fialla looked to Sheilah, who pushed away from Sten and went to the window, where she was noisily sick.


    ¡°She said... well, I don¡¯t know all the words in your language, but... He stinks. He doesn¡¯t wash himself after... woman... time. His clothes smell bad, too. Also sweat.¡±


    Magdalene gave Fialla a baffled look. ¡°Woman time?¡± She asked; Fialla made a tube with one hand and slid her finger in and out of it suggestively.


    Sten was at turns pale and livid. Magdalene covered her face in her hands.


    ¡°This is ridiculous. A farce. There¡¯s no way she could tell-¡±


    ¡°I can, too.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°Our sense of smell is a little strong.¡± Fialla explained without malice. ¡°If you want to help us learn to dance, then I¡¯d suggest you bathe thoroughly. Also, whatever that smell on your clothes is...¡± She shook her head and held her nose.


    He sniffed his jacket, and gave her a mystified look. Magdalene leaned close and sniffed. ¡°The perfume?¡± She asked, curiously.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is.¡± Fialla replied simply.


    ¡°Where did you get these two girls?¡± Sten asked.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I think the lesson is done for the day, Sten. Thank you for showing up. I hope you can show up for a repeat performance at a later time.¡± Magdalene was speaking, but Fialla was over at the window, patting Sheilah¡¯s back comfortingly.


    ¡°His smell- I couldn¡¯t- I¡¯m sorry.¡± Sheilah gasped as Magdalene came over.


    ¡°Well, that could have gone better.¡± Magdalene replied. ¡°There are other ways of expressing distaste than throwing up out the window, I imagine.¡±


    *****


    ¡°You will need to learn to dance. It¡¯s an important part of your debut. You will likely have to dance quite a bit.¡± Magdalene encouraged. ¡°But, since today¡¯s lessons are ended... I suppose we have nothing to do except writing and reading practice.¡±


    Sheilah groaned; Fialla adopted a grim expression.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make those faces; literacy is important.¡± Magdalene admonished, and then paused. ¡°I know; I¡¯ll have you two accompany me to my study, so you can see what it is that I do. It should serve as a lesson in what will be expected of you.¡± She decided.


    In her study, the one shared with Toril, She pointed at a stack of letters. ¡°These are all from various lords and ladies in the kingdom.¡± She explained. ¡°Some are reports, some are requests, others are complaints, but more than anything, they are our lines of communication.¡± She explained.


    ¡°I will give you a task to keep you busy: There are ranks of nobility. First are the dukes. They oversee large parcels of the land that makes up the Stormheim kingdom. A Duchy is divided into Earls, who oversee specific parts of a Duchy. An Earldom is further divided into Counties, overseen by Counts. Counties are divided into Baronies. Below the barons are Knights, though a Knight would have to be particularly distinguished for a Baron to grant them land.¡± Magdalene explained.


    ¡°Who are above the dukes?¡± Fialla asked.


    ¡°We are. The royal family, of course.¡± Magdalene explained. ¡°My sister is a duchess, since her husband passed, and her son, whom you insulted in the dance hall, is the next in line to receive her title. He¡¯s also your cousin.¡± She pointed to the stack of papers.


    ¡°Sort them according to rank. Dukes, Earls, Counts, Barons.¡± She smiled craftily. ¡°Their wives have their own counterpart titles: Duchess, Earlessa, Countess, and Baroness. You¡¯ll receive a bonus if they¡¯re arranged correctly- which baron is in which county, in which earldom, in which duchy. Go.¡±


    And, to make sure she wasn¡¯t being completely unfair, she rolled out a map of Stormheim¡¯s territories, divided unto the respective duchies, earldoms, counties and baronies. Sheilah and Fialla eyed each other, grabbed the letters, and settled into work.


    *****


    In the evening, as the girls were no doubt back in Sheilah¡¯s apartments, Toril gave Magdalene a curious look.


    ¡°Those were already sorted, you know.¡±


    Magdalene nodded. ¡°I think Sheilah is one who learns by doing rather than studying.¡± She replied. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to think things like literacy and math will forever be beyond her, since studying is the only way to master those skills.¡±


    Toril nodded. ¡°I myself was never good at studying.¡± He agreed.


    ¡°Yes, but you did learn.¡± Magdalene disputed. ¡°I think that perhaps I might need to assemble some aides to take care of the things she can¡¯t.¡± She muttered. ¡°On the other hand, Fialla- that elf of hers- seems to be better at studying. It might be beneficial to have her support Sheilah.¡±


    Toril gave his wife a sour look. ¡°Everyone will immediately say that Stormheim is now being controlled by the elves.¡± he replied. ¡°They won¡¯t care that she''s a half-elf from the Redstone Valley. And even if they did, there are still people that remember how we got our noses bloodied by them. They¡¯d think we would be trading one master for another.¡±


    ¡°This will need to be taken care of carefully.¡± Magdalene agreed.

 Chapter 65

    ¡°I miss home.¡± Sheilah muttered. ¡°I keep thinking I made a mistake coming here.¡±


    Fialla looked up from her book. ¡°I don¡¯t mind it here.¡± She replied easily, ¡°But if you want to return to the Redstone, then I¡¯ll accompany you.¡±


    Sheilah looked over at Fialla and smirked ¡°Look at you. ¡®Accompany¡¯.¡± She accused lightly. ¡°You¡¯re sounding more and more like them.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re picking it up just as quickly.¡± Fialla retorted. ¡°Though your reading is...¡± She trailed off.


    Sheilah got up from her chair and stretched. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m not very good at it.¡± She admitted testily, beginning to pace. She always paced when she was irritable.


    ¡°Want to go hunting?¡± Fialla asked curiously. ¡°It¡¯s been some time,¡± she tried counting on her fingers and gave up, ¡°since we last went with your father.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± Sheilah asked, turning towards the caramel-skinned elf curled up in her comfortable chair.


    ¡°Hmmm. I want to. I don¡¯t want my skills to get rusty, after all.¡± Fialla replied. ¡°But this book is interesting.¡±


    Sheilah planted her hands on her hips. ¡°How can a book be interesting?¡±


    Fialla smirked. ¡°Do you remember the Redstone Spire? The place where we met your mother?¡± She asked curiously.


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°There were a lot of clan signs I didn¡¯t know that were carved there.¡± She replied.


    Fialla tapped the book she was reading. ¡°They¡¯re in here.¡±


    Sheilah immediately strode to Fialla and snatched the book from her half-elf friend. She stared at it, her brows coming together as she struggled to read.


    ¡°Ugh.¡± She thrust the book back towards Fialla. ¡°Tell me what it says.¡±


    Fialla chuckled. ¡°Some of those clans were from Thorheim Forest.¡± She explained. ¡°The Spire was once a place of meeting between the Valley and the Forest.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± Sheilah muttered wonderingly. ¡°Okay, so there were clans outside of the Redstone.¡± She nodded. ¡°What were their Totems?¡±


    Fialla¡¯s mouth twisted. ¡°It doesn¡¯t say.¡±


    Sheilah gave her an exasperated look and threw up her hands. ¡°What¡¯s the point of reading about them, if-¡±


    Fialla cut her off. ¡°They were probably like us.¡± Fialla explained. ¡°It¡¯s interesting to me.¡±


    Sheilah tossed up her hands and paced some more. Fialla gave her a sour look, and then settled back in her chair and resumed her reading. After a moment, she realized that Sheilah¡¯s moodiness was getting to her as well, so she closed the book and set it down.


    ¡°What sorts of lessons are we to have today?¡± Fialla asked Sheilah. ¡°History? Math? Dancing again with that buffon? Another sermon on ¡®The Light¡¯? Horseback riding?¡±


    ¡°That ¡®buffoon¡¯ is kind of cute.¡± Sheilah pointed out.


    Fialla snorted. ¡°His hands are way too squishy.¡±


    Sheilah tugged on her dress. ¡°Horseback riding doesn¡¯t sound terrible,¡± she paused, ¡°If I could stop scaring the beasts.¡±


    ¡°Supremacy.¡± Fialla nodded.


    ¡°Yep. Supremacy.¡± Sheilah agreed.


    Sheilah resumed her pacing, kicking the hem of her blue dress. She stopped, and looked towards the front doors of her apartments at the same time as Fialla.


    ¡°Three of them.¡± Sheilah muttered, and stepped out of the study. ¡°Andrea, we have company.¡± She called.


    ¡°I really wish you wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± Andrea complained as she came out of the dining hall. ¡°It makes me feel as if I¡¯m not doing my job correctly.¡±


    Sheilah gave an ostentatious shrug.


    *****


    Magdalene stepped into Sheilah¡¯s apartments, shaking and pale. Sheilah eyed her curiously; the older woman was nervous, or scared.


    ¡°What has you looking like that?¡± Sheilah asked, and Magdalene jerked towards her.


    ¡°They¡¯re here.¡± She began, and then nodded. ¡°They¡¯re here, and that means you¡¯re going to stay in here, in your apartments until they leave.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a skeptical look. ¡°You really think-¡± She began, then cut herself off. ¡°Who is here?¡± She asked instead.


    Magdalene made fists with her hands.


    ¡°The High Elves. They¡¯re here to- well, be a thorn in our sides. As usual.¡± She glared at Sheilah. ¡°You and Fialla are going to stay here, in your apartments.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Sheilah asked. ¡°I could sneak up on them from behind and give them a good fright.¡±


    Magdalene gave her a baffled look. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure. You stay here. There won¡¯t be lessons from Toril or I while the High Elves are here. Practice your reading, practice your writing and numbers.¡± She paused again. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving guards outside your door to protect you.¡± She added, in a much firmer tone.


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to deal with them?¡± Sheilah asked curiously. ¡°Father told me he once burned a high elf princess¡¯ head right off.¡± She explained. ¡°I could do that much.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Magdalene emphatically replied. ¡°I¡¯d love to say yes, but Stormheim doesn¡¯t have the forces to repel an elven invasion.¡±


    Sheilah gave her a disappointed look. ¡°So no hunting trip?¡±


    Magdalene shook her head. ¡°If there were an absolutely certain way to get you out of the castle without being spotted...¡± She shook her head. ¡°The elves are as cunning and as perceptive as you.¡± She offered a wan smile. ¡°Please stay put.¡±


    Sheilah nodded. ¡°If they come in, I will defend my territory.¡± She promised.


    Magdalene looked to Andrea. ¡°Make sure... just do your best.¡±


    *****


    The High Elven ships were pale, slim, and graceful, and although they looked fragile, they navigated the waters of the harbor adroitly, elegantly slipping between two of the heavier and much more cumbersome Stormheim ships.


    The elves that stepped off of their ships were as pale as their ships, with blonde or white hair, and carried themselves with a willowy grace. They wore complicated robes with a number of sashes and belts that were intricately embroidered with incomprehensible patterns. A number of dark-skinned elves surrounded them. One of the elves, a man with green eyes and blonde hair fretted impatiently. ¡°Where are they?¡± He complained. ¡°Damiel, Artrus, Eatha- They should have greeted us when we arrived, and arranged for transportation!¡± He held a delicate and embroidered cloth to his face. ¡°This place smells like wet dog.¡±


    One of his companions, a young woman with silvery hair glanced around with an expression of disgust. ¡°I did send word ahead of our arrival.¡± She complained, covering her mouth with an embroidered cloth like her interlocutor.


    ¡°Perhaps he finally did his job and died properly.¡± The first elf replied. ¡°It would be nice to rid ourselves of these mud-grubbing humans.¡±


    As if summoned, Damiel appeared, looking drawn and strained. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it took so long.¡± He greeted, and gestured at a carriage with a greasy, obsequious grin. His eyes scanned the skies from time to time, and there was a distinct tremble to his hands.


    ¡°Artrus?¡± the male High Elf demanded. ¡°Eatha?¡± He prompted.


    ¡°Artrus... is on a mission. Following human soldiers on a mission.¡± Damiel replied. ¡°Eatha...¡± He shook his head. ¡°She has no interest in the mission. Hasn¡¯t done anything.¡±


    The male high elf sighed. ¡°Useless.¡± He spat.


    The female high elf gestured. ¡°Take us to the castle and be quick about it.¡±


    Damiel nodded slowly, and turned towards the carriage.


    ¡°He moves as if he¡¯s aged fifty years.¡± The male elf muttered to his partner. ¡°What happened, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± She replied disdainfully. ¡°He¡¯s a tool. As long as he does his job, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    *****


    On one side of the table was Toril, Magdalene, and Garen, the commander-in-chief of the entirety of the military of Stormheim.


    On the other side of the table, a map of the explored world between them, were three High Elves and a number of Dark Elves. Damiel was conspicuously absent.


    The High elves were slim and pale and waiflike, willowy and draped in expensive brocaded silks; the humans were taller, more robust, and while they were dressed in their finest, they seemed somewhat rougher, more coarse by comparison.


    The elves introduced themselves.


    ¡°My name is Sureya.¡± The elven woman began. ¡°These are my two brothers, Eadathir and Wisteran.¡±


    Toril in turn gestured to his wife and his general and introduced them in turn.


    ¡°Our original agreement, the one made by my grandfather Edwin, was a mutual and cooperative development of the Silverlands.¡± Toril began. ¡°There¡¯s been no sign of aid or assistance in developing the Silverlands from your nation in three generations, and we¡¯re still recouping our losses from our last attempt to develop it alone.¡± Toril began. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to honor the arrangement on your end, then I see no reason to-¡±


    The elven woman raised her hand delicately, cutting him off.


    ¡°We have helped.¡± Sureya insisted, ¡°And you have accrued a significant debt in that, human king.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is there an elven colony there? A secure harbor?¡± Toril challenged.


    Sureya gave him a comfortable smile. ¡°Of course there is. But supporting it alone is unfeasible. I¡¯m afraid that if we don¡¯t have your support, and soon, we will have to withdraw that colony. And since the arrangement was made in the spirit of cooperation and goodwill, if we don¡¯t receive the promised assistance from you, as per the contract, I¡¯m afraid we will have to recoup that financial offset through other, less ... cooperative means.¡±


    Toril rolled his eyes. ¡°I still have the reports from the last colony we set up. There was no ¡®mutual cooperation¡¯. There was no harbor, the lands hadn¡¯t been developed at all.¡±


    Sureya sighed. ¡°Your ...¡¯deputy¡¯... was it? He refused our assistance, and even conspired to destroy our colony- another financial debt you owe us.¡±


    ¡°He was pushed that far because of your colony¡¯s sabotage!¡± Toril shouted.


    Magdalene shot her husband a worried look, but Sureya merely smiled in response.


    ¡°I have it in good faith that our colony acted to defend themselves against a human slaughter.¡± She retorted.


    ¡°Take the whole of the Silverlands. We don¡¯t even want them anymore.¡± Garen urged. ¡°We lack the resources and manpower to establish a colony there anymore. End the contract and agree to walk away in good faith.¡±


    Sureya shook her head. ¡°We will not.¡± She replied. ¡°If you do not develop a colony in the Silverlands within the next five years, you can expect a fleet of elven ships in your harbor to persuade you to reimburse our efforts.¡±


    Garen grit his teeth at that. He¡¯d been one of the last people to have been educated in the Elven lands. He knew what they were capable of. Their magics far outstripped Stormheims. With the loss of the colony and losing the Redstone Valley, Stormheim teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. Stormheim could not afford the financial outlay to assemble another navy. They lacked the manpower to harvest the wood, could not pay shipbuilders. Their current forces were stretched through the south and the west. The food production couldn¡¯t keep up. They couldn¡¯t even sufficiently protect themselves from the monsters that lurked in Thorheim Forest.


    Even if they killed the elven ambassadors here and now, there would be nothing to stop the elves from landing their armada and taking everything.


    ¡°Five years, is it?¡± Toril asked.


    Sureya nodded.


    ¡°If it¡¯s five years... and this venture is done in cooperation and mutual good faith, we can do it.¡± Toril agreed grimly.


    As one, the three elves smiled predatorily.


    ¡°We look forward to seeing you in the Silverlands once again.¡± Wisteran spoke up, the first and only thing he¡¯d said through the whole meeting.

 Chapter 66

    The three high elves rose, and made their way to the door. Toril was certain that there would be a final parting shot, but they merely filed out, their Dark Elf retinue following behind without a backwards look.


    After a guard reported that the elves had in fact left, Magdalene rounded on Toril.


    ¡°Again?!¡± She snapped. ¡°You caved to them! You practically bent over backwards for them!¡± She shouted.


    ¡°I bought us five years, Mag.¡± Toril replied. ¡°As it stands now, we have no way of stopping them from walking into Stormheim and doing whatever they please. They¡¯ve got numbers, they¡¯ve got time, and they¡¯ve got magic.¡±


    He nudged Galen and pointed to a nondescript and somewhat battered metal box.


    The man got up and picked up the box, grunting at the weight. He returned to the table, and set the box in front of Toril, who opened it carefully.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Magdalene asked in a weary, frustrated voice.


    ¡°Letters.¡± Toril replied, even as he began taking out stacks of papers. ¡°Letters from an asshole.¡±


    Magdalene gave him a confused, angry look while Galen remained standing.


    ¡°You want me to leave, Your Majesty?¡± He asked in a low voice.


    ¡°No, no.¡± Toril replied, shaking his head. ¡°This involves you, too.¡±


    Galen nodded as Toril sorted papers.


    ¡°There¡¯s an asshole that hates the elves as much as I do.¡± Toril began, ¡°and from time to time we exchange letters.¡± He paused, ¡°Well, what really happens is that I write a letter, stick it in the box with some parchment, and then if I¡¯m lucky he¡¯ll write his own letters, and then I¡¯ll have a couple of men retrieve them.¡±


    ¡°It was part of my arrangement with him. I at least wanted to stay in contact.¡±


    Magdalene¡¯s temper rose, but her voice cooled. ¡°And is this ¡®asshole¡¯ the one that I think?¡± She asked crisply.


    Toril eyed her askance, but shook his head. ¡°Here are the letters about that, and his responses.¡±


    He handed her a stack of papers. She looked through each one; Toril asked a lot of questions, but the answers were always cold and sterile. ¡°Sheilah is doing well¡±, ¡°Sheilah is fine,¡± and the last letter that mentioned Sheilah, the freshest one, the one most recent, ¡°You should be proud of her.¡±


    ¡°You kept this from me?¡± Magdalene shouted at him. ¡°All this time, and you never said a thing!¡±


    ¡°How could I?¡± He snapped back at her. ¡°You haven¡¯t-¡± He cut himself off. ¡°Look. Galen.¡± He pointed at some papers with diagrams and pages of text. ¡°This.¡±


    Galen struggled over the letters. ¡°This man¡¯s handwriting is atrocious.¡± He complained. ¡°But...¡± He nodded. ¡°There are strategies here. Some of them are ... just impossible with what we have now. This... is a bit more realistic.¡±


    He set another sheaf of documents down. ¡°This wouldn¡¯t work. This one... no. This would work if we had more people...¡± He shook his head. ¡°A lot of these are fever dreams, Your Majesty. We¡¯d need way more people than we have now.¡±


    He tapped one. ¡°This is... something we might be able to do in five years- assuming it worked.¡±


    Toril nodded. ¡°Get a group together and get started on it.¡±


    Galen nodded and left the room.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to try and fight them when they come knocking in five years.¡± Toril replied to Magdalene¡¯s unasked question. ¡°If we can get some of these ideas to work in a way that¡¯s feasible to us... we could see the end of elven influence in five years. If we can¡¯t, then... we¡¯re going to be fighting for our lives... or living as slaves.¡± He sighed. ¡°In the meantime, I¡¯m going to go ahead with getting the bulk of our resources together for another try at the Silverlands. Not to colonize it, though: To act as a beachhead for our assault on the elves.¡±


    Magdalene rolled her eyes. ¡°You think we have troops enough to protect us and assault the elves?¡± She asked caustically. ¡°You think we¡¯ll have enough in five years?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t. We won¡¯t.¡± He admitted. ¡°We¡¯ll flood their lands with gnolls.¡±


    Magdalene took a breath. ¡°So it¡¯s true.¡± she finally whispered.


    Toril gave her a questioning look.


    Magdalene relayed the story of Sheilah¡¯s sister dying at the hands of the gnolls that Stormheim had introduced to the Redstone.


    He grimaced. ¡°Oh, I wish I hadn¡¯t heard that.¡± He complained softly. ¡°I have to apologize to her, somehow.¡± He slumped back in his chair and covered his face in his hands. ¡°I didn¡¯t know we¡¯d sent gnolls into the Redstone. If we did, it makes sense. Now that I know, I wish we hadn¡¯t, but...¡± he shook his head, face still covered. ¡°We have to, this time. There¡¯s no other way. We can¡¯t protect ourselves and launch an offensive at the same time.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    He leaned back and lowered his hands, his eyes still closed. ¡°If I could have my way, I would load every ship we own with the damned things and land them on elven shores. I¡¯d flood their cities. I¡¯m so tired of elves, Mag. So tired.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to give the girls a few days to themselves.¡± Magdalene finally replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could look them in the eye right now.¡±


    ¡°Send them to Angelo Dardi, then.¡± He replied, a little color returning to him.


    ¡°The fencer?¡± Magdalene replied with a frown. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we send her to Antonia? She teaches fencing to the women, too.¡±


    Toril barked a dry laugh.¡°I¡¯ve seen her hunt. Sheilah, that is. She¡¯s a lot stronger than me. Galen, too. Angelo would teach her better. Anyway, I promised to have her taught. But make sure the elves are gone.¡± He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t want them to know she¡¯s here.¡±


    Magdalene finally allowed herself to slump in her seat. She idly flicked through the letters Toril had sent to Davian. They were all diplomatic, but edged with a desire for friendly relations, as well as asking after Sheilah and her well-being.


    Davian¡¯s replies were very simple, the sentences only a few words each. His handwriting was atrocious as well; she could see the same mistakes Sheilah made. There was also no room for flexibility of interpretation. From one perspective it seemed as though Davian was coldly rebuffing everything Toril suggested, but there was also a second interpretation: Davian simply didn¡¯t know how to interpret those loosely-addressed phrases.


    ¡°I wonder if I should write to him.¡± Magdalene murmured thoughtfully.


    ¡°Who? Davian?¡± Toril asked. He waved his hand, his eyes still closed. ¡°Give it up. He¡¯s unfailingly blunt, and probably wouldn¡¯t care what you wrote him.¡±


    Magdalene raised an eyebrow. ¡°Maybe we should let Sheilah write a letter-¡± She began, but Toril sat upright and glared at her cooly.


    ¡°No. His role is over as her guardian, and Sheilah is our daughter. I forbid it. I don¡¯t want to give her any opportunity or excuse to leave.¡± His reply was flat and cold. It made sense, even to her. Still, the idea persisted.


    ¡°His handwriting is as atrocious as hers.¡± Magdalene complained.


    ¡°Really? You never showed me her work, Mag.¡± Toril complained, and then got up. ¡°I feel terrible. I¡¯m going to have the doctor give me a tonic and have a nap.¡±


    Magdalene gave him a disappointed frown. If he had one of the tonics the doctor prescribed, then he wouldn¡¯t be able to indulge in their newly-rediscovered intimacy. When she brought it up, he froze, one hand on the doorframe.


    ¡°I- uhh,¡± He turned back to face her, and closed the door behind him. ¡°I hadn¡¯t- I didn¡¯t think-¡± He tried, and then he gave her a sheepish smile. ¡°Then should we, uhhh, before I take the tonic?¡± He asked.


    ¡°At this time of day?!¡± She immediately rebutted. ¡°How shameless!¡± She got up and crossed the room and took his hand. ¡°I don¡¯t recall marrying a man so shameless.¡± She argued, but began leading him to their shared apartments.


    ¡°Well, I remember marrying a very bold and assertive woman, who wouldn¡¯t back down from any challenge placed in front of her.¡± He replied kindly.


    ¡°And I remember marrying a man who was just as bold and challenging.¡± She replied with a sharp look.


    His grip on her hand firmed, and he adjusted his pace so that he walked side-by-side with her, and he gave her a grin, a ghost of the old daring, challenging smile he used to wear, even when surrounded by his betters.


    *****


    Sheilah frowned over the sheet of parchment she was working on. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why I can¡¯t simply ask for what I want.¡± She complained to Fialla, who was concentrating in the same way.


    Andrea had set for them a task: write her a letter, asking for lunch. If the letter was appropriate for one of her station, then Andrea would serve lunch. They were now three hours into the exercise and Sheilah began entertaining the idea of asking for dinner, instead.


    ¡°This is entirely too complicated. Why is a letter even required?¡± Fialla complained. ¡°She¡¯s standing right there. Just tell her to serve lunch.¡±


    ¡°The exercise is important, because there are going to be many times where it¡¯s important to properly request things from those beneath you. If you ¡®simply ask¡¯, it¡¯s seen as a ¡®demand¡¯, and that¡¯s considered very rude. You want to show that, despite them being lower of station than you, you respect them and the work they do in your name.¡±


    The two gave each other baffled looks, despite hearing similar explanations from Andrea as they struggled.


    Sheilah wanted to give up, but Fialla was still trying, so that meant she needed to keep trying, as well.


    ¡°Did they not do such things in the Redstone?¡± Andrea asked curiously.


    Fialla opened her mouth, but then shut it abruptly. Sheilah looked up at Andrea and took a breath and let it out slowly.


    She thought about it from a Dragon¡¯s perspective. At first she wanted to instinctively respond that it was completely different- the clans didn¡¯t have servants, and most people were capable of doing everything themselves.


    The Dragons were the de facto leaders over the other clans because they were Dragons, but despite being the Tyrant Clan, they didn¡¯t behave like tyrants. There was a complex system of favors and counter-favors and mutual agreements and accords.


    Politics in the Redstone were complicated.


    Sheilah drew a new sheet of parchment towards her and, struggling with her knowledge of the Stormheim tongue and her grasp of their alphabet, she began composing.


    After she was finished, she drew a stylized Tyrant mark, added the First Blood mark, and then her personal mark, followed beneath in struggling, stilted lettering, her name, Sheilah Stormheim.


    She folded the paper into thirds, and proffered it to Andrea, who accepted it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll forgive the lack of envelope and wax seal, this time.¡± Andrea smirked as she accepted the letter.


    She read over the letter, and her lips quirked.


    ¡°It¡¯s hardly legible, but you pass.¡± Andrea decided. ¡°I¡¯ll have lunch brought to the dining hall.¡±


    Fialla glared at Sheilah. ¡°What did you do? How did you do it?¡± She demanded.


    Sheilah passed the letter she¡¯d ¡°sent¡± to Andrea. ¡°Redstone politics are complicated.¡±  Sheilah reminded Fialla in Redstone. Fialla grimaced, and then read.


    ¡°Your handwriting is terrible.¡± Fialla complained.


    ¡°So is yours.¡± Sheilah shot back. Fialla made a face at her, and then turned towards the direction of the apartment doors.


    ¡°Your mother¡¯s here.¡±