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Scotland – 1033
Sofi had only meant to teach them a lesson. A means to cease their endless torment. Squealing, bullying brats. All
of them. Their taunts of “witchy girl” made her blood boil and how her heart ached when they refused to include her in
their games.
She only wanted to prove she was a dragon, not a witch.
And now she and Mother were fleeing for their lives.
She was not used to running this way on human legs. Why couldn't they break into dragon form and escape into
the heavens? If Mother would let her, she knew she could soar higher this time.
Run, Sofi! They will kill us both!
Mother's high-pitched cry reverberated through Sofi's brain. But keeping pace with the dragon queen's long human
legs was difficult work. Mother tightened her grip on Sofi's hand, relentlessly pulling her through brush and thickets.
Branches ripped open Sofi's human flesh, leaving gaping wounds on her face and arms.
From Dawn of the Dragon Queen, work in progress
If Mother would let Sofi transform, her thick scales would shield her from the onslaught of branches. Nay, they would burn the trees down and clear an
easy escape path.
The forest was damp, newly sodden with a heavy summer rain. Sticky dew clung to her skin, soaking her gown which stuck to her legs as she fought to
keep stride with her mother.
The men's voices grew ever louder.
Angrier.
Closer.
Why couldn't they fly?
Despite the moonless night, as black as pitch, Sofi's immortal eyes could see the dense forest was thinning, breaking. They were nearing the shoreline.
When we reach the clearing, you must break free with all your might and fly to the heavens!
Although Mother spoke to her in thought, she did not need to look into Mother's eyes to read her fear. Panic jumped from the dragon queen's skin and
electrified the air.
But Mother! Sofi swallowed back a lump of bile. Never had she been so frightened.
Do it, I say!
Fear pumped wildly through her chest, threatening to crush her lungs as she struggled for breath. Would Mother stay and fight the mob or would she
flee with her? Where would she go without her mother? She could not survive on her own.
At once the trees gave way. The violent sound of waves crashing to the shore thrummed beneath them.
As one they jumped over the precipice of the rocky cliff, hand in hand.
Then wing tip to wing tip. Within a blink, they’d transformed. Mother and daughter dragon ─ their glistening amber scales blackened to coal under the
starless night sky.
Ominous clouds threatened from overhead. Murderous horsemen threatened from below.
Pushing with all her might, Sofi strained her wings to put more air beneath her. She and her mother rose high above the onslaught of arrows. Then
higher still. In seamless silence the pair traveled.
For the first time in many moons, Sofi felt free.
She roared her delight.
How long since Mother had let her fly so high? Why had she been tethered so long? Why should they pretend to be mortals when they could just soar to
the heavens?
A brilliant flash lit the sky, filling the air with a thunderous clap.
Sofi staggered, tumbled. The force and weight of the thunderbolt threw her off guard.
Above her, she could feel her mother's panic but had no time to register her own. She spiraled several times, trying to catch the air with her wings.
Her body slammed. She heard a crack, wondering if her skull had broken. She shook her dizzy head and looked down to see she was riding astride her
mother.
You are too heavy. Break to human form.
Sofi obeyed. Again she was a mortal girl. She felt the tension give way beneath her mother's scales. She and her mother soared higher, above the din of
the storm, up to where Sofi could see the stars and the full moon in all their brilliance.
Moonlight lit her mother's scales in myriad hues of fire.
Sofi was envious. She wanted to be a dragon, not ride astride one. She struggled to stand so she could jump from her mother and fly. Only when she
leaned her weight on one side did she register the pain. It shot up her arm like a rush of venom. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out.
Her mother roared.
Sofi’s heart twisted and ached. She knew Mother shared her pain, too. ‘Twas part of their connection.
Silent tears streamed down her face. Not tears of pain in the mortal sense, but tears of regret.
She had so longed to fly.
Resigning herself to sit between the crook of Mother's powerful wings, she cradled her arm in silence, waiting for the tears to subside.
The cool night wind sent a shiver down her spine as the icy current from Mother's flapping wings numbed her human flesh.
Sofi did not balk.
Lifting her chin toward the heavens, she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with a cold rush of air. How she relished the feel of freedom.
If only her life could be like this always.
Where will we go, Mother?
Even through her thoughts, Sofi could hear Mother's heavy sigh. She knew the dragon queen was angry. She had broken her mother's trust this night
and had almost cost them their lives.
Across the ocean. Mother answered flatly.
Far away from mortals? Sofi hoped never again to see another human child.
We will never escape the mortal world. For now, we can only hope to escape these men.
Sofi swallowed hard as she recalled the murderous looks in the villagers' eyes. Some carried torches and clubs. Others, sent by the king, were armed
with arrows and swords. Why were mortals cruel and indifferent to dragons? Their race had never sought to harm humankind. Perhaps Mother would find a
new village without hateful children and a murderous king.
Perhaps we will find humans who like dragons.
Nay, child! The dragon queen's pitch turned shrill, urgent. Humans and dragons can never be friends. Her tone softened, saddened. Mortals will never like
what they fear.
# # #
“Make way for the dragon slayer!”
Andres followed the knight into the large darkened hall, lit only with a small fire at one end. He was told 'twas a meeting place of some sort. Many
villagers were gathered here. Tots with grimy faces clung to their mothers' worn skirts. Old bony men with scraggly beards leaned on gnarled canes.
As he did whenever he came upon a new village, he scanned each face, hoping she had disguised herself among them.
His heart lurched at the sight of a slender woman with fiery curls who was stirring embers in the hearth.
Ignoring the others, he lengthened his stride until he was almost upon her.
She turned, but her massive riot of hair obscured her face. She quickly raced to the side of a very fat monk seated near the fire in an ornate wooden
chair.
Andres knew the monk was of some importance to the gathering villagers. He could tell by the regal way the priest carried himself, from the gold rings
on his fingers, to the fine embroidery of his robes.
The monk snapped his fingers, and the red-headed woman filled his goblet with wine.
Andres' heart sank when the woman brushed aside her hair, revealing a pock-marked face.
“By King's command,” the knight beside him bellowed. “The dragon slayer has come seeking answers.”
The monk glared at Andres through sideways eyes. “You are too late.” He spoke through slurred words.
Andres was not to be deterred. Nearly six years of searching and he'd never come so close. He was not about to give up now. “Tell me, when was this
dragon last seen?”
“Yester-night, and not a dragon.” The monk took a long gulp of wine, spilling some of the juices down the many folds of his chin. Handing over the
goblet to the servant girl, he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “Dragons.”
“M-more than one?” Andres stammered.
But she'd told him she was the last. Was that just another lie? Who was this dragon? Her new mate?
How she'd played him for a fool!
“Aye.” The priest belched into stubby fingers. “Mother and child.”
Andres nearly choked on his own tongue. “A child?”
The dragon slayer had come against many formidable foes in his lifetime. He had battled three-headed monsters, giants and dragons alike. Never had
he felt the bone-crushing panic that pulsed through his veins now. For the first time in Andre's life, his knees weakened.
A child?
“They disguise themselves as humans.” The priest thrust a flabby arm into the air. “Witches, they are!”
“Do you forget Fiona healed my sickly son who could not walk?” A woman's voice called from one of the darkened corners of the room.
“And she eased the pain in your bones.” The redheaded servant spoke as she refilled the monk's goblet.
“Mark my words, the pain will return, only tenfold.” The priest's meaty jowls shook as he bellowed. “No good can come of The Devil's magic!”
“Pray tell me, what did the child look like?” Andres held his breath as he waited for the monk's answer.
“She looked much like her mother. Fair in face, skin pale as the moon, hair aglow like the fiery embers of her deadly dragon's breath.”
Andres released a slow breath of air, but the stiffness which had coiled around his spine remained. 'Twas her mother's daughter ─ but the priest
hadn't mentioned the child's eyes.
“The girl's eyes were different.” The servant spoke as if she were lost in a distant memory. “Fiona's were a honeyed gold, but the child's were of the
softest blue, like the summer sky.”
The monk nodded, grunting in agreement. “Odd, I'd never seen another with eyes so pale.” His voice trailed off, his beady orbs narrowing at Andres
through puffy slits.
Andres shifted slightly, feeling the heavy weight of the priest's assessing glare. Behind him, the soft murmurs of the crowd grew louder.
They were speaking of his eyes, he knew it.
Turning his head, he glared at the crowd. Then, squaring his shoulders, Andres faced the monk with a direct gaze. If he wanted to judge him, so be it.
Andres was not the one who had sinned. He had not known she was a deceiver.
The monk ran stubby fingers across his rounded chin. “Tell me, dragon slayer, where are your shield and sword?”
“I've other weapons to fight these dragons.”
“Then perhaps you should be on your way.” He laughed, waving Andres away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “Find them, if you can. They have
flown over the sea, and I doubt we'll ever see the likes of them again.”
Andres thanked the priest through a frozen smile, trying desperately to mask the pain which had settled in his chest like a lead stone.
She was gone.
Aye, the monk was right. Fiona was a witch.
A deceiver.
A dragon.
Cursed him, she had, to a life of immortal misery. But he would not end his hunt. Even if it took him a thousand years, he would find the dragon queen
and child.
They could not hide from him forever.