Draka

“I saw you, when you were dreaming,” I told Herald as we walked up the passages towards the opening in the mountainside. I’d been a little wary of telling her, thinking she might not appreciate my kind-of-but-not-really accidental voyeurism. To my relief she only gave me a curious look. “As in, I saw your dreams. In my own, I mean. I think that is what my major advancement does. I can see the dreams of those I have touched. Maybe even speak to them.”

“You keep surprising me with impossible things.” There was no condemnation in Herald’s voice, and not a hint that she might doubt me. “Only those you have touched? Like… me? Or Mak?”

“That is my guess, but I only saw you, Jekrie, and Barro. Although, perhaps it will be possible, with time and practice. It took months to learn that I could project fear with my shadows.”

“Then practice,” Herald encouraged me. “I have nothing to hide. Not from you.”

“It means a lot to me that I know that you mean that,” I said. My worries were gone, and I felt better for having told her.

She smiled and continued. “I certainly intend to practice. And I hope that you can help me. There is surely no one else alive who knows more about the gift that I have received than you.”

“Eh… probably?” I hedged. I might have a mother out there. Or distant family, more likely, considering the centuries that I had been asleep. “It gets easier with more practice, I know that much,” I told her. “If your shadows are like mine, I mean.”

“That is good to hear. Moving in the shadows is tiring, but moving them around… I thought my head might split.”

I nodded. “It was the same for me. It gets better.”

“I still can hardly believe that it is real. I have wanted this for so long. Magic, I mean. And now I have it, and it is… perhaps not unique, but I have never heard of it before meeting you. I cannot change into shadow like you–”

“We do not know that,” I interjected. “You may just not know how. I learned by accident.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But I would say that, being invisible within shadows which I can move at will? It is not much worse.”

“And your things go with you,” I pointed out. “Clothes and such. Not much of a problem in my case, but I imagine you would find it a little embarrassing.”

In the inverted light of my shadow vision, Herald’s face grew brighter as she blushed. “Yes,” she agreed after a short pause, her voice a little squeaky. “That would have been a problem.”

When we reached the entrance and stepped out into the light, Herald didn’t change back to normal sight for a long time. I could still see the gold shine in her eyes as she marveled at how different the world looked, even in sunlight. She didn’t speak, just looked around, looking at the forest, the clouds, the shadows cast by the walls of the crack in the mountain that we stood in.

I waited patiently.

“It is so strange,” she said after a long while, and smiled at me. “Like the world ends where the sunlight falls. But I can still see you, do you know that? Even in full sunlight, where I can see nothing else, there you are. As beautiful as ever.” Then she closed her eyes. When she opened them, there was no glow. But something about them was different than I remembered, and I moved in to look closer. As I got close Herald laughed, completely relaxed at having a predator the size of a small horse stick its face in hers. “Draka, what are you doing?”

I looked into her eyes in the light, and I gasped. Or rather, I took a short, strong breath through my nose, which was apparently the equivalent reflex for dragons.

“Herald,” I said, slipping back into Karakani. “Your eyes are gold!”

Because they were. Bright and beautiful. And not just in color. There was a sheen to them, as though her irises had been replaced by rings of burnished metal, glimmering in the sun.

Her face went slack with surprise and confusion, and she slowly brought her hand up to touch the cheek under her left eye, as though that would let her feel the truth of what I’d told her.

“My eyes?” she asked, her voice trembling. “They’re gold? My eyes are gold?”

I saw tears forming, and at first I thought that she was horrified. But then…

“Like yours?” she asked, and sniffed as the tears spilled over, her mouth drawing into a wide smile. “I have golden eyes, like yours?”

“You do, yeah,” I said, then, “Wait, I have golden eyes?”

“Yes, you silly lizard!” she laughed, taking my head in both of her hands. “For as long as I’ve known you! And your eyes glow when you use the other sight.”

“Like yours,” I grinned.

“Like mine!” she agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “Thank the Mercies and bless the gods that they let us meet in that mine!”

“Thank Tam for losing his shit on some guy who was harassing Mak,” I countered, and she laughed. She stroked my face almost randomly, like she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. I probably would have been offended if it were anyone else. It was a little how I’d sometimes treated my brother’s dog back before. Finally her right hand settled on scratching the bump where my horn had been.

“Speaking of the mine,” she said, and giggled softly, “I think your fears are coming true. That horn you lost is definitely growing in again.”

“Aw, damn it!” I groaned. “It’s going to look so dumb!”

“And who is going to dare make fun of you?” she said, scritching the area where I could now, after she pointed it out, feel a large bump as she touched it. And to drive the point home she tapped something that definitely was neither scale nor hide.

“Yeah, fair,” I sulked, resigning myself. “But I’ll know.”

We spent a few more minutes on the ledge, enjoying the sun, and then I brought her up to the plateau where my stream was, for a drink and to take care of other necessities. She was noticeably more comfortable on my back as we flew; I was a little longer, and the space between my wings had broadened. The growth hadn’t come for free, though, and I felt a rumble in my belly that was strong enough that Herald must have felt it through my back.

“Do you need to hunt?” she asked.

“I will be fine,” I answered, though the idea was tempting. I had other things to do, and I had gone a little hard on the nearby goats over the past few months. It was better to leave them alone, and I’d rather not go any farther afield. “I will see if Jekrie has anything to spare, or we will figure something out. I want to see him anyway.”

I brought us down, landing nearby the nascent hamlet. I had only shown myself to Jekrie, not counting a small child who had seen my tail and thought that I was a snake. I asked Herald to go and bring Jekrie and Kira, and she jogged off with a spring in her step that I couldn’t help but smile at.

I did not smile when she returned alone, rubbing her neck awkwardly. “Ah… you had best come down,” she said, looking back the way she’d come. “You will want to see this.”

Her whole vibe made me wary. “What is going on?” I asked, and she just smiled wryly and shook her head.

“No, really. You will want to see this.”

That didn’t exactly make me any more comfortable, but this was Herald, so I went with her. We rounded the spit of rock that had screened us from the campsite by the gate, where a few simple huts had now sprung up as more permanent homes were being built. I stayed hidden as we approached, but I soon realized that was pointless.

Everybody was waiting. Not that there were many of them, but all twelve adults were standing around nervously, plus Kira, who stood apart, looking awkward. Jekrie stepped forward as Herald approached them, asking, “Is she here? Did she come?”

“Yes,” Herald sighed. “She came.”

Jekrie turned to the trees and the rock, calling out, “Please, great lady! Come out! Show yourself!”

Great lady. I liked the sound of that. But I didn’t like how openly he called for me. Not at all.

“You may as well,” Herald added. “He has told them about you. There is no point in hiding from them.”

That… to say that it annoyed me did not do the emotion justice. Who and what I was was not Jekrie’s secret to share. I had chosen to speak to only him specifically because I didn’t want the rest of them to know about me. Now he’d gone and run his mouth, and I had a very strong urge to show him just how displeased I was, an urge that I had to fight to control. With only the slightest hesitation I stepped out from the bushes where I lurked. I stalked towards him, my claws tearing into the soil, and as he spotted me I saw his face go from surprise to delight to the realization that I was not at all happy with him.

I heard gasps from the others, but ignored them, and a fearful silence filled the air. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do. Something terrible, possibly. But then I remembered his little baby daughter, and his wife, who worried so much, and I forcibly reined myself in.

Instead of doing whatever Instinct would have had me do, I gave Jekrie a piece of my mind. “When I wanted to talk to you,” I growled, “I brought you away from the others. Why do you think I did that?”

“Great lady,” he said, holding his hands up defensively, “I–”

I cut him off. “That was a rhetorical question. That means I expect you to keep your mouth shut! The answer is, I did that because I didn’t want everyone to know about me. Because I didn’t want people either freaking out or doing something stupid. And now you’ve told everybody?”

Jekrie’s mouth moved, but he didn’t say anything. He learned quickly.

“Speak!” I hissed.

“Great lady, I had to!”

“Why?”

“They were afraid!” he blurted, finding his spine somewhere and slowly meeting my eyes. “There were twenty-five of us setting out, and only fifteen now. We are plagued by nightmares and fears that the monsters will find us! I have tried to keep spirits up but it’s been hard, and then tonight I had a dream, and I woke knowing, knowing sure, that if we only trusted in you we would be safe.” His back straightened, and his face grew just the slightest bit defiant. “So I gathered all, before the sun rose, and I told them. Please, great lady, I meant no disrespect. I only hoped that, in knowing that we have such a great protector, my kin might finally know peace.”

I stood stock still, studying him for a long moment. His face radiated honesty and openness. There was fear, yes. He stank of it, as he should. But he meant what he said. And his crime was, in the greater scheme of things, minor. He’d told the people closest to him about me, because he believed in me and respected me. I had shown myself to hundreds already. What harm could a dozen more do? I also had to accept that he’d only done it because of something I’d done – either I’d actually spoken to him, dream to dream, or this was a huge coincidence. And I’d never actually told him not to talk about me.

But it wasn’t about that. Not really. The problem was that I’d thought that I knew where I had him. Now he’d gone and surprised me by doing something unexpected, and I didn’t know Jekrie well enough to trust him.

I sighed and walked past him. “Come on,” I told him quietly as I passed. “Let’s meet your people.”

The other adults were all right there. They’d been listening in awed silence as we spoke. They had seen my displeasure, and now they waited in fear as I approached. But they didn’t cower, and they didn’t run, and that pleased me. It felt nice. For all that I enjoyed their fear, I didn’t actually want it. I didn’t want people to flee from me. I would much rather have their respect.

Above all, I wanted their adoration.

One woman stepped forward. I recognised her as Jekrie’s wife, and the fear in her eyes was tempered by a silent strength, the strength of a wife and mother who was determined to do what she must to protect her family. She approached within a few feet, her eyes locked on mine. It wasn’t quite a challenge. Not quite. Then she slowly got to her knees, and bowed her head for a moment before raising her face to me again.

“Great lady,” she said, and I liked it just as much coming from her as from her husband. “When my husband said, this morning, that our protector was a dragon, a mighty creature of legend, I feared him mad. I feared that our flight and the loss of his brother had gotten to him, finally. At best I thought that he was telling tales, but he was never one to do so. Now, I see you before me, and it is as he claimed. You are as real and as mighty as he said. Please, great lady. I cannot speak for my kin, but I swear that if you keep my child safe, and my husband, I will do all that you ask. I will live or die as you please, if I can rely on you for this.”

The wind in the trees, the cawing of crows, the nervous shuffling of feet and the muted crying of a baby were the only sounds I heard as I looked down at the human kneeling before me. Pride and greed warred with a sudden desire to flee, to abandon this responsibility that I had already accepted, whether the woman in front of me knew it or not. Then, silently, first one, then two, then all of the refugees joined her, Jekrie coming around from behind me and kneeling by her side.

Herald stood beside me, her hand almost possessive on my back. To the side, Kira was a silent observer, her eyes uncertain and her mouth a tight line. Looking from her to the humans arrayed before me I remembered what she had said about dragon worship being outlawed in her homeland, and all that I had heard about dragons and their cults. It was pretty obvious what the scene must look like to her. The question was how she’d react.

“Stand,” I said. I tried to sound… perhaps not gentle, but at least not intimidating. Looking at them I doubted that there was any tone I could take that would set them at ease, but I didn’t want them any more frightened than they already were.

They stood. They did it slowly and with a great deal of nervous glances. Most of them waited until Jekrie and his wife were on their feet and unharmed before following suit. But they stood.

“You,” I said to Jekrie’s wife. “What is your name?”

“Tinir, great lady,” she answered. “Once of Piter’s Clearing. Now of… here, I suppose, though it’s yet to be named.”

“We never did name it, yeah,” I mused. “Well, Tinir, I have already promised your husband to do what I can to keep you safe, on behalf of all of you. And I’ll repeat that promise to any of you who will swear yourself to me. I don’t ask much. Follow my commands if I give any. Live in peace. Keep my secrets, and do what you can to keep what is mine safe. That’s about it. I can’t guarantee your safety absolutely, and I won’t always be here, but the hunting’s good and there's far fewer monsters than in the north. Can you agree to that? All of you,” I added, sweeping my gaze across the small group.

“I swear it,” Tinir said, quickly and with complete confidence.

“As do I,” said Jekrie a moment later.

“And I.”

“And I.”

“And I!”

They all swore. Some hesitated, others seemed eager, and when it was over my small flock of followers had grown by twelve souls.

“Well, then,” I said cheerfully. “As you were. Don’t let me keep you.”

They shuffled their feet and gave each other questioning looks, but no one moved.

I snorted. “You all have things to do, yeah? Houses to build, food to prepare? That's all I ask of you for now. Settle in and survive. Maybe keep an eye to the north when you’re out hunting? Go on, now! And don’t think I can’t hear that baby crying, Tinir. Get on with it!” I snapped the last part, and that got them moving. With respectful nods or touches to the chest the group broke up and cautiously moved off, and I turned to Kira.

She was trying to sneak away.

“Kira!” I called, and she stopped, turning to watch me guiltily as I approached with Herald in tow. “Let’s talk.”

“How have you been these past few days?” I asked her as we walked among the trees.

“Fine,” she replied meekly. She was trying to keep her back straight, to come across as sure of herself, but there was something fragile about her.

“Have you not been lonely with no one to talk to?” Herald wondered.

“The people have been kind. And the children do not care so much that we do not understand each other. I have learned some few words.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “That is good. So what is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she lied, with a tremble in her voice.

“Kira,” Herald said, a warning in her voice as she flanked the woman and hemmed her in between the two of us. “Please. You look ready to run. What is wrong?”

Kira looked at me to her right, then Herald to her left. Her eyes flicked to Herald’s, and she stopped.

“What is wrong?” she said desperately. “What is right? I am far from my people and my friends, by no fault that I can admit of my own! The children have been lovely and the people kind, but I cannot talk to anyone! And now they…” Her voice hitched, and she swallowed thickly before she managed to continue. “They fell on their knees before you. You spoke to them like a queen! And you!” She turned to Herald. “Your eyes… your eyes are like hers. Like Draka’s. What am I supposed to think?”

Herald bristled at the accusation in Kira’s voice, and I quickly spoke up. “What are you afraid of, Kira? Tell me! Let me put your mind at ease!”

“That is what I am afraid of!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I have seen how they act around you. Herald. Makanna. Jekrie and others. And I can feel–”

Her voice broke, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

“I can feel that my thoughts are not my own anymore. Not entirely. Even this, now! I should not be telling you my fears so openly, but I cannot help myself! When I was bonded, at least I had my mind! I could think whatever I wished about the one who held my bond! Now… even my thoughts are held captive. Do you understand? I am not myself, and yet I am myself enough to know that!”

I stood there, like an arsehole, as Kira broke down into dull, despairing tears. Herald wrapped her arms around the much smaller woman after a moment’s hesitation, and Kira barely reacted, but I just stood there, paralyzed. I was torn between smug satisfaction, disgust, pity, confusion, searing shame and guilt, competing desires to comfort her and promise her that everything would be alright, or to command her to get out of my sight.

I didn’t know what to do, and so I did nothing.