Fan Fiction ❯ Fire-Child ❯ Chapter 1

1

 

Black night cloaked the forest, making the trees seem like nothing more than shadows from the past, reflecting on days of greatness when once they ruled the land of Tarin. Mist floated through the ferns and bushes, pushed through leaves and branches by rippling breezes that moved fretfully, as if fleeing before some great beast. The silver light of the moon cast lances of brightness through the treetops to fall shapelessly on the leaf-strewn forest floor. A dark shadow momentarily blotted out the gilded light, cast by either a passing cloud or some flying night creature, searching for a midnight meal. A mouse scurried out from underneath a bush, standing on its back feet and sniffing the air cautiously, its ears twitching frantically as it surveyed its surroundings. The sudden cracking of a twig sent it bolting for cover back underneath its previous hideout.

 

A willow-like woman wrapped in a cloak of deep green burst in on the peaceful scene, jumping logs and dodging branches. Only the sound of her labored breathing marked her headlong passage through the trees that now seemed to stretch their branches out to grasp at bits of billowing cloak, pale skin, or black, tangled hair. The white skin that was exposed on her hands and claves were crisscrossed with red scratches. A hood covered her face but allowed a few strands of long black hair to hang forward. Farther down, the cloak bulged unevenly around something that was concealed within its folds.

 

The woman's face turned back the way she had come, the hood shifting just enough to allow a ray of silver light to illuminate her high cheekbones and yellow cat-eyes that were softened to the color of butter by tears and the moonlight. Behind her, a long line of yellow lights snaked swiftly through the trees at her back. Shouts sounded and hounds bayed faintly in the distance, but near enough that they were perfectly clear to the woman's enhanced hearing that she had had since her birth.

 

“Over here men! The dogs have found the dragon spawn's trail! We'll get her yet! Hurry!”

 

“Spence, give the others those bows and arrows in case the lizard woman takes to the air!”

 

Lizard…the golden-eyed woman thought, ducking her head towards the bundle she carried to mask the growls of anger that welled up from her chest. For the first time in her life, the woman felt an overpowering need to turn and reduce these townspeople and their prejudices to nothing more than ashes on the fallen leaves. If her empathic powers, which enabled her to sense the emotions of others, hadn't prevented her from killing them all, she probably would have. But, she thought, I certainly wouldn't be able to kill that mage before he killed me and then my child would be murdered as well…eventually.

 

The child in question tilted her head up toward her mother's lowered face from out of the confines of the green cloak. The girl's yellow eyes lit in a question as she recognized the tears that shone in her mother's eyes alongside the fiery rage. Her tan face, so much like her father's, stretched in a yawn that made her black locks inherited from her mother fall into her eyes. “Mother? Are the bad people still following us? Where are we going? Is father coming?” she asked her voice soft and thick with exhaustion.

 

“Yes, Tavia, but we'll be alright.” She whispered, trying to lull her child back into the sleep she had induced with her song before, but it wasn't working as her daughter was becoming more alert, “Go back to sleep child. We're going to visit Uncle Marius and Aunt Lora but we have to be quiet so the bad men don't catch us, alright?” The woman whispered urgently, hoping her daughter would cooperate without too many more questions.

 

Tavia's eyes dropped and her face turned as she rested her cheek against her mother's chest once more. Horrible images flashed through her mind but she pushed them ruthlessly away. The night's events were just too painful to remember completely. Especially now that they were still so vivid.

 

The voices grew louder and the fires on the torches brighter as Tavia's mother stumbled. The motion jarred two carefully repressed tears loose to fall from her eyes, suspending momentarily like twin stars before being caught in the folds of the green cloak as the woman moved forward again. Another fleeting glance behind her confirmed what her ears told her: her pursuers were gaining. The flames on their torches bobbed erratically and illuminated their bearers' rugged, unshaven faces, lit with blood lust and a vicious pleasure, but enough fear that it was recognizable in their eyes. Her enhanced sight made them appear to be standing right next to her.

 

I'm running out of time. I must act now. The fugitive thought, slowing down her headlong pace. She dropped pale lids over golden eyes and concentrated. Two black, pointed horns rose from her forehead just below her hairline, curving toward each other. A pair of large, ebony wings emerged from her back. The moon casts a platinum sheen over the wings, accenting their leathery appearance as they stretched, almost like a pair of twin black cats rising from sleep.

 

The woman opened her eyes and looked back again, retaining all of her human features with the addition of the wings and horns; the men were much closer now. With one sweep of her powerful new appendages she was airborne, milky skin glistening silver in the moonlight, making of her a spirit who sailed through the mortal world on wings of night.

 

Tavia, feeling the slight lurch as her mother took to the sky, looked up once more. She loved flying but her mother had insisted that she wasn't yet old enough to do it by herself. So, Tavia had settled for flying within the protective confines of her mother or father's arms. She remembered when her father would fly up as high as he could go and then toss her out into the air, letting her free fall for a few seconds before swooping underneath her to catch her once more. He always made her laugh. Or he used to, anyway. A tear formed in the corner of Tavia's eye and slid down her cheek, leaving only a trail of wetness to mark its presence and soon even that was obliterated as the wind from her mother's flight dried the dampness.

 

The older woman, meanwhile, was hovering three feet above the forest floor, searching for an opening in the canopy of leaves that would allow both her, her wings, and the precious bundle that she carried to pass through unimpeded. So far, however, she was not having much success and the voices of her pursuers were getting louder. As the first of the townspeople broke through the trees that stood like sentinels at her back, the airborne lady reached a decision. She stretched one hand palm out toward the tops of the trees that impeded her path, relinquishing half of the hold that she kept on her daughter. The long sleeve of the cloak fell away to expose her smooth ivory skin as tiny flames began to build in her outstretched palm. The orange tongues of fire gathered in the center of her hand, building until the woman held a small conflagration between her fingers. Her hand, with the ball of fire still hovering above it, pulled back to her ear, leaving a trail of rippling air in its wake. Then, the woman's hand moved forward at an alarming rate and she threw the flame towards the sky. It pelted through the canopy of the forest, burning a circular hole in the leaves before dissipating at another wave of the woman's hand once it had passed through. In its wake, there was an opening just big enough for the fugitives to pass through and the elder of the two rocketed toward it frantically.

 

Shouts and curses were heard below, almost covering the mumbled words of spell craft from the mage. Almost, but not quite. The dragon woman put on a second burst of speed, pumping her strong wings for all she was worth. There were only two things that mage could be doing right now, casting a spell on her or on an arrow so it would penetrate her shields, should she have any. Since this wizard was a novice who had entered her town (she still thought of it as hers despite the fact that's its inhabitants were the ones who were chasing her) only a few weeks before, she would bet on the arrow. If she were a betting woman, that is. Either way, if she could only get far enough away fast enough, neither strategies would work for the same reason: she would be out of range.

 

The chanting from below her increased in urgency and volume and the mage's voice rang clear through the woods. All the townspeople had fallen silent, now, listening to the spell with anticipation. Suddenly, a buzzing noise was heard, soft at first, but then louder as it drew nearer. The sound was as loud as a hundred angry hornets buzzing in the mother's ears and just as familiar. Dodging swiftly to the left, the magicked arrow whizzed past her face, trailing behind it the blue-white aura that meant a spell had been placed on the object. Of what kind, the woman couldn't tell, but she didn't really care because now she was out of range of both arrows and spells and safely on her way to Shavasta, the city of the dragons. The arrow sailed off into the night sky, its bright wake making it look like a comet sailing through the stars. She bowed her head, kissing the cloth-covered one of her child and breathing a sigh of relief. Now they both were safe.

 

But this was a false sense of security that didn't last long. Seemingly by some cruel god's will, the arrow that she had dodged previously now came hurtling at her from above. This time, she barely managed to barrel roll out of the way of its deadly point, clutching tightly to the child in her arms to keep her from falling. This time, the [Author ID1: at Fri Mar 14 22:04:00 2003 ]annoying piece of wood and metal took less time to return and attack the airborne woman. Now aiming for the delicate folds of skin that stretched between the bones of her wings, the besieged woman was forced to drop sharply. The mage was more powerful than she had thought

 

The small girl-child in the cloak gasped softly at the sudden lurch in her mother's usually smooth motions and looked upwards. Above her hung the bright silver stars, suspended in the black night like diamonds set in velvet. Accompanying them in their orbit was the luminous moon; dark craters pocking its round surface and making it look like some benevolent old grandfather who looked down on his grandchildren playing at life with both humor and tolerance. It was a sight Tavia had seen many times lying on the roof of the vine-covered cottage where she had lived with her parents but something wasn't quite right this night. Tavia could feel it in the tightening of her mother's muscles as she flew and an eerie feeling that made Tavia's head pound dully.

 

The usually peaceful scene was suddenly broken by a streak of blue light that sliced the night sky swift as an executioner's blade. The girl blinked rapidly to make sure it hadn't been a figment of her imagination, but her fears were confirmed when the object made its way back across her field of vision. Through the glare of the light surrounding it, Tavia made out the long shaft, broken at one end by a pointed tip and at the other by the irregular fletching, of an arrow. A second gasp involuntarily escaped her lips as the deadly weapon slowed and began to turn off its straight path and head for her mother and her.

 

Meanwhile, the dragon-lady did not notice her daughter's sounds as she swerved again, dodging the projectile by only a small margin. She paused a moment to catch her breath and review her options while her slim pursuer was taking its time changing course.

 

The spell would eventually run out of steam, she knew, the farther it was from its maker and the longer it was required to go without being fed power. However, she didn't know when that would be and it could be anywhere from hours to days and if it followed her far enough, the mage would be able to track its trail. This would not only lead him to her and her daughter but also to the sacred home of their cousins, the dragons, and that would not be a good thing at all. The dragons had spent too much time concealing Shavasta to have it revealed by some blunder on her part.

 

The other option was the dragon-flame spell she had preformed on the forest canopy during her escape, but it was a long way to Shavasta and there would be no place or time for a stop to rest along the way. Some of her energy had already been expended in blasting a hole in the leaves so she could fly through, using more now did not seem beneficial. On the other hand, she was also using a good deal of energy dodging the cursed thing. The only choice now was which would drain her more in the end.

 

However, before any choice could be made at all, the air borne dragon-daughter heard the familiar buzzing of the arrow as it whizzed towards her except this time, it was right on top of her, having caught her off-guard for a moment. She tried desperately to move out of its path, but it matched her every move. So, she merely turned her child out of harm's way and braced herself for the pain to come.

 

Sure enough, a sharp, radiating pain shot through her side as the arrow buried its deadly point into her side below her ribs. She felt blood sliding down her side and soaking her shirt, making it cling and stick to her. Doubling over in mid-air, somehow managing to keep a tight grip on the bundle in front of her, she gripped the shaft of the arrow and yanked. The metal arrow head came free in a rush of blood and skin that coated the sides of it in a gory mess and the woman promptly snapped it in two.

 

Seeing her daughter's yellow eyes lifted to her pain lined face, the dragon-woman tossed the bloodied arrow away and smiled weakly. Despite the small reassurance, Tavia's eyes widened further and her face paled three shades beneath her tan. More tears filled her eyes but were quickly blinked away.

 

I'd forgotten that her empathy had developed early. Tavia's mother thought, cursing silently that she had let down her mental barriers, allowing her daughter to sense her emotions, including pain, through her empathic powers. Yanking the barriers back up, she focused once again on the most immediate problem of how to get to Shavasta safely. Now that she was injured, that had become a very difficult task. She could, of course, heal the wound, or even have Tavia, who's healing powers had developed along with her empathy, do it for her. However, in order for the healing to work, she would have to be motionless while it was being preformed and she had neither the time nor the safe place for that. But she reasoned that it was only becoming more difficult as she hovered pondering and losing more and more blood in the process. Therefore, she turned once again to the north and the shadows of the mountains that loomed in the distance. Pumping her wings painfully, she propelled herself and her daughter forward into the inky night sky.

 

* * *

Lora strolled down the well tended paths that crisscrossed through her garden, bathing herself in the soft moonlight which streamed through the glass ceiling of the hothouse and bounced off her midnight blue scales. These paths were wide, wide enough for two dragons to pass each other without hitting any of the many plants and trees that resided here so it was easy for Lora to move her deceptively bulky form down the dirt aisles. The night was peaceful and calm, scented as it was with the perfumes from roses, gardenias, and numerous other fragrant flowers and lit by the stars and the round, milky moon and so Lora had found herself wandering to her favorite refuge in hopes of a midnight stroll.

 

In Shavasta, the air was clear and clean, partially from being elevated on the slopes of Mt. Cornelius, and partially because the magic that was used throughout everyday life here infiltrated into very air around it. Lora took a deep draught of that air now, trying desperately to ignore the foreboding feeling that had taken up an uncomfortable residence in the pit of her stomach. The cold air loosened the knot of anxiety in her throat enough that she could think clearly without it distracting her.

 

This feeling had woken Lora out of a deep sleep when the moon was on its descent into the horizon. She had wandered out of the large room that served as a bedroom to herself and her mate, Marius, careful not to wake him up in the process, and eventually made her way to the hothouse. The hothouse had always been a place where Lora could clear her mind and calm her soul; the plants and flowers seemed to absorb her worries and cares as they absorbed sunlight.

 

But tonight she found that not even the peace of this place could erase the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

 

Eventually, the blue-scaled dragon reached the end of the path in the form of a circle of willow trees, their long branches reaching down to brush the white stones that defined the circle. In the center was a huge stone object. Its flat bottom merged with the earth beneath it as its far end soared up and curved over it, forming an awning to keep the burning rays of sunlight, magnified as it was by the glass overhead, from reaching an occupant who chose to rest there. On either side, the stone fell from the top of the awning to the floor, carved into the likeness of a waterfall.

 

Lora lowered herself down in between the cradling arms of the two stone waterfalls and rested her back against the stone behind her. Her golden eyes closed as she rested her head on her front legs and tried to sleep, but Saru, the god of dreams and peaceful rest, perversely refused to visit her. Sighing, she shifted to a more comfortable position and tried again. This time, a muted thumping, echoing through the ground was keeping her awake. Thinking maybe her massive heart's pounding was sending these vibrations through the ground, she turned to her other side so her heart was not touching the ground, and yet the sound continued. She listened a moment longer, puzzled, and then realized that it was growing louder, as though coming toward her. Soon it was like the sound of thunder, echoing not only through the ground beneath her, but also through the air, reaching the ear not pressed to the ground as well and making her head resound with its cadence.

 

Sitting up once more, Lora whipped around and rushed toward the exit. Glass doors swung open before her at the merest nudge of her glistening navy-blue head and she was through them and standing beneath the full glare of the moon before they were even halfway shut. Head up and back arched, the female dragon stood at full alert, sensing the other dragons' alarm. Whirling around a corner, she stood at the side of the road that wound through Shavasta and as she watched, its inhabitants rushed past her, the wind caused by their hasty movement whipping her face like a thousand needles. Some dragons had even taken to the air, huge wings pounding the air and sending it ground ward. Fledglings and babies scampered beneath their parents' legs, trying to keep up and not be trampled at the same time.

 

She called out to a young orange dragon as it passed her. He swerved out of the group and came to stand before her, panting slightly from the exertion of running, but remembering to lower his head in respect for her superior age.

 

“Yes, venerable one? Is there something you need?” He asked and Lora was pleased that his tone was just as respectful as his youth demanded even though he voice shook with anxiety.[Author ID1: at Fri Mar 14 22:04:00 2003 ]

 

“Why is everyone running toward the gates?” the female dragon asked. And then a horrible thought hit her, “Is there an invasion of some sort?” She automatically lowered herself closer to the ground in an offensive stance.

 

“No, venerable one, there is no invasion. The sentries have reported that one of the fire-people is approaching our gates. The woman appears to be wounded and is carrying something in front of her. We can't tell what it is yet because it is covered with her cloak. We're all going to help her in case she's been followed by a human or, worse yet, a mage.” The last word was spit out of the young one's mouth like venom.

 

The sense of foreboding that had been haunting her all night, now took a firmer grip on Lora. “Alright, thank you…” she paused a moment, waiting.

 

“Daken, venerable one.” He supplied

 

“Daken, then. Thank you.” And with that, Lora had taken to the air as Daken rejoined his fellows in the road.

 

The fabled Gates of Shavasta loomed ahead of her as she flew nearer. The limestone and marble walls shone with muted light and the engravings gilded in silver and gold glinted in a bright reflection of the stars, soft where the sun would have made them harsh and garish to the eye. The Gates themselves were also made of silver with gold twined around it like some creeping vine that never grows and never dies. They were huge, over seven dragon-lengths tall and five wide; only three dragons pushing together could move them from their resting place in the mountainous ground. Now the ramparts were lined with dragons of every age and color packing together and looking outward. Tongues of flame hovered over the scaled heads, shedding an orange light on everything below.

 

Many tales surrounded these walls. Some said they were enchanted and moved along with the rest of the city, jumping from place to place, preventing discovery. Other people who rejected the notion of a whole city vanishing from one place to reappear in another claimed that they were invisible but if one happened to stumble upon them, the very stone would open and swallow them whole, spitting out the bones. The last was usually said in overly graphic detail to small children who enjoyed wandering too close to Mt. Cornelius and its twin, Mt. Silvian.

 

Neither of these tall tales was true, of course, but parts of each were close. The walls were created at a time when the world was unsafe for any dragon-kind and at the start of a period forever to be known as the Age of Chaos. Truth be told, it was dangerous for any of the four First Races, dragons who controlled fire, mermaids who controlled water, elves who controlled earth, and griffins who controlled wind, to show their faces around humans.

 

After Lord Veringard, a friend and ally of the dragons, died under unknown causes there was turmoil in the court. Since Veringard had no son, there was no heir. Therefore, his chief advisor, Marsibadd, a powerful and slightly mad mage, took the throne and promptly declared the First Races a plague on the land and demons for their use and control of the elements, a skill that human mages could not master. If the pure and righteous mages of the Order could not use the elements, then any who could was unrighteous and impure he reasoned. His armies began scouring the land, searching for the creatures that they told the people were the cause of the droughts and plagues that swept the land. Because these impure beings were allowed to live unhindered in their kingdom, the gods had turned their faces from them, Marsibadd told them. So young mages were taught to despise all of these creatures and young men who joined the army were taught to kill them without mercy. The irony of it was that as these armies went in search of the Races, they looted and pillaged towns, burning their already meager crops and adding to the problem.

 

But rumors circulated quickly among the dragons and the other peoples who made up the First Races. Rumors that said that Marsibadd was not just trying to purge the world of what he called abominations, he was also looking for something. The word something was always said in a lowered, ominous voice as though this something was so evil that even mentioning its name was risking the horror of whatever power it possessed. Lora herself had never put much stock in such murmurings, but others of her community had. However, most of the dragons simply were too busy struggling to survive to worry about Marsibadd's ulterior motives.

 

The armies alone would have not bothered the dragons themselves (even though they were troublesome to the other Races) since arrows and swords could do them no harm, but mages traveled with each army. A required number of five must be with them at all times. For dragon-kind, and all of the proclaimed demons, this posed a problem. So, they called on their distant relatives, the fire-children, for aid.

 

These people often went by many names, fire-people, dragon-mages, fire-born, or the Order of the Flame which was especially popular among those who wished to separate themselves further from the human mages and their Orders. But, the name that most called them by and they have most called themselves was fire-mages. This was also the most fitting, considering that they are the only mages with any human features who can control fire, the most dangerous and difficult of the elements. Among those powers was also the ability to create illusions and create inorganic material and shape it to their will. Also, they could heal themselves and others. The first power they shared with the dragons and the last they shared with the humans. Empathy, however, or the ability to sense the emotions of another, and healing was only found among those who possessed the yellow eyes of the fire-mages. They also were had another gift completely unique to their race alone. When they sang, together or alone, the fire-mages could do one of three things depending on which song was sung. They had the power to uncover that which was hidden, place wards and protection spells, and control the minds of non-magical humans so long as they heard their song. This gift was called the Star Song since legend said that the Goddess of the Stars, Simione, gave that power and the powers of both empathy and healing to the first of the fire-mages since they are her most favored children. The Star Song was different, however, in that in order to obtain it, a fire-mage must travel to Simione's temple when they are 17 and there they would be given the knowledge required to wield it.

 

For these reasons, the fire-children made the perfect helpers in such a huge undertaking as the building of Shavasta. They readily agreed, since they hated violence or killing of any kind and also, despite not being one of the First Races and therefore being more closely related to humans, they had always been friends with each of the four peoples. And so, a council of dragons and dragon-mages was called to decide on a site for the city. One of the lower peaks of Mt. Cornelius was chosen and work began. The Gates and walls were built first as a preventative measure against any venturous human who climbed the treacherous mountain. Fire-mages and dragons worked in concert to raise the walls. While a fire-mage created and shaped the limestone, weaving marble, gold, and silver through its make, a dragon stood behind him, embedding illusions into the raw material. Behind the dragon, a chorus of Star Singers weaved protection spells into the stone with their songs.

 

Soon, the wall was done and the illusions in place; from the outside, an outsider would only see a sheer face of rock, unable to be climbed or passed around, that rose up to disappear in the mist that shrouded the peak of the mountain.

 

The city itself was much easier to build since houses need not have so many spells for illusion and protection and the whole thing was completed within the year.

 

However, much changed during that year. Mages of the human Order began to wonder why they no longer could find any of the creatures that they had vowed to purge Tarin of. For the fire-mages had also been helping the other three Races to create their own havens against the storm of hatred. Those secret places hid their occupants so well that they all appeared to have simply vanished when mages knew that they had yet to destroy them all. Their wrath immediately turned to the fire-mages themselves. The droughts and disease was worse than ever and now with the dragons and other Races becoming a rare occurrence, the people needed another scapegoat. Or perhaps, some said, Marsibadd had exhausted all of his other resources to finding whatever he was looking for and now had narrowed the search to the only race other than humans to not be included in the First Races. But regardless of the reasons, they had turned on the only other Masters of the Elements: those who were fire-born.

 

Lora sighed as she thought of the horrors that were wrought on the dragons' staunch allies and faithful friends. They were killed and driven out of their homes and, since they had no love for violence as they felt all the hurt of their enemies through their empathy, they did nothing but flee and pray to Simione for guidance.

 

No one had suspected the hunt for the fire-mages to be easy. The only thing that distinguished them from the rest of the human race was their dragon wings, horns, and yellow eyes and all those things were easily hidden. The wings and horns could be retracted into the skin and their eyes were made to appear black by illusions. However, mages of the human Orders could sense illusions and those of the Order of the Dove were able to sense any creature with dragon blood.

 

Many of the dragon-mages promptly faded into the background, keeping away from big cities and thus away from the mages. However, more and more of them were calling for a permanent home where all of them could live in peace, free from persecution. And so the city of Tavarian was born out of the desperation of the fire-people.

 

The site chosen for it was a peak of Mt. Silvian, the neighbor to the dragon's Mt. Cornelius. However, it farther down the slope since the fire-mages had no control of weather like the dragons and therefore could not ward off the vicious storms that swept the upper slopes. The city grew rapidly under these more favorable conditions and was modeled like a smaller Shavasta.

 

The only difference was that the houses themselves had to be built before the walls were in order to accommodate the growing number of fire-mages who were fleeing their persecution. By the time the walls were ready to be built, a mage from the Order of the Dove by the name of Rotag had received word from unknown sources about the building of the city. The mage had promptly led an army of mages and warriors up Mt. Silvian and slaughtered 100 fire-born men, women, and children and scattered the remaining 150. The city itself was destroyed.

 

A similar expedition was led up Mt. Cornelius to make sure that no colonies of the dragon-mages were left, but the treacherous slopes and fierce storms of the mountain soon drove the army back down before reaching Shavasta.

 

Until now, however, dragon-kind had heard very little from their relations other than a few venturous ones who visited now and again. But the trip was long and hard and not many made it. Lora herself was even an honorary aunt to a pair of her dearest friends' daughter but hadn't seen the girl in over 5 years when the child was 2 years old. The rare yet welcome occurrence of a visit from a dragon-mage was one of the only things that could bring all the dragons in Shavasta out of their homes in the dead of night. Still, despite this happy prospect, Lora could not shake the feeling of anxiety that blanketed her mind.

 

Circling over the high walls, the blue dragon scanned the ramparts for a place to land. They were so packed with the bulky forms of dragons that she couldn't even see the color of the stone beneath their scaled feet. Seeing a trio of young dragons clustered together, however, she glided down to hover over them. Their wings were new, the scales still shone brightly in the starlight, untouched by time, and so they much younger than herself. This meant that she had privilege over them.

 

Lora flew lower and blew a gust of wind at them with a strong sweep of her wings, causing all three of them to look up. Bowing in unison, two of them moved to one side while the third flew off, making just enough room for a comfortable landing space. She blessed the advantages of age while at the same time remembering the disadvantages as her bones creaked when she landed too harshly on the hard stone.

 

Ignoring the chatter of those around her, Lora peered intently out into the mist that shrouded the mountain city. She narrowed her eyes to get a better view and just barely made out a faint silhouette in the whiteness. Shadowy wings sprouting out of slender black shape pumped the thin air laboriously. Their movement caused the fog to dip and swirl like a flock of birds when a hawk dives into their midst. The body attached the wings was strangely distorted by a bulge that was held in front of it.

 

“Who is it, Lora?” asked a deep voice which rolled like warm honey despite being husky with exhaustion and lost sleep. The familiar sound soothed her nerves and she smiled for an instant.

 

“I can't see, Marius, the fog is too heavy.” The midnight dragon replied mildly. Turning to her mate, Lora noticed with amusement that the two remaining younglings had left, having been displaced by Marius.

 

Marius turned outward, as well, and squinted in an echo of Lora's previous motion. After considering for a moment, he took a deep breath and then blew out softly, weaving his power into the sigh. Mist swirled and parted in an unnaturally straight and smooth corridor, the shadowy form flying toward them at its end. The flames hovering overhead cast their light into the now-clear area, turning the inside an eerie red color. Now all the dragons on the wall top could see clearly the features of the visitor's face.

 

Milky white skin sheeted with sweat was lined with creases of pain and exhaustion. Long black hair framed the feminine face, beautiful once but now only a picture of suffering. Almond-shaped yellow eyes were clouded but filled with desperation and renewed determination at the sight of the dragons crowded on the walls. A green cloak covered her shoulders and enclosed a bundle carried in front of her and held on to as though to let go was to accept death. One side of the wrapping was stained a dark crimson and the source of the color dripped down off the hem of the robe to disappear into the insubstantial fog below.

 

Lora drew a sharp breath as recognition dawned on her. A similar sound from her mate confirmed her suspicions. Whispers ran through the crowd like dry leaves in the wind, as those in front relayed what was happening to those behind. A single name was passed from neighbor to neighbor like a mantra.

 

“Astarra.” Lora breathed, her eyes riveted on the horrible scene before her, unable to move.

 

Marius, however, did not share her problem. Whirling as much as he could in the cramped quarters, he bellowed down to the ground, “Open the gates fools! She's about to collapse!”

 

The sound apparently awakened the other dragons out of their stunned stupor and they surged forward, pushing against the silver and gold gates which swung open effortlessly under the combined weight of over 20 dragons. Once through, they turned back into the refuge of the walls and made a space for the exhausted fire-lady.

 

Outside the weather-spelled walls of Shavasta, snow drifted softly down to the ground and piled up on either side of the open gates. A thin layer coated the rocks in between the two parts of the gate, making it look like someone had sprinkled sugar over the stone.

 

In that place, Astarra lowered herself as carefully as she could and then promptly collapsed, still clutching the bundle. Snow clung to her eyelashes as she rolled to her side, keeping the bundle from crushing her beneath its weight.

 

Both Lora and Marius preformed a flawless synchronized dive off of the wall top, landing in a spray of white snow that danced like frantic butterflies over their heads. They rushed to their friend's side and Lora lowered her nose to press the woman's cheek softly.

 

“Astarra? Astarra, my friend, what happened to you?” the female dragon asked, her midnight blue form melting into the darkness of night.

 

“Aunt Lora?” A small, childlike voice answered her instead of Astarra's own, but they were similar, muffled though the first was, “Is that you?” it continued, “Mother, are we here now?”

 

“Yes, Tavia, love, we're here.” Astarra answered, her voice coated with pain, exhaustion, and relief. She gave the bundle in her arms a final, reassuring pat before releasing it so that the cloak spilled open to reveal a child of 7 years, her arms wrapped around her mother's chest. The small girl turned her head, looking Lora straight in the eye with relief and hope, and immediately the female dragon was struck by how much her adopted niece had grown.

 

Untangling her tanned arms from the cloak, she knelt next to her mother's prone form and rolled her onto her back, “Momma, the dragons are here. They can help you, momma.” Tavia murmured faithfully, setting Astarra's head into her tiny lap. Flakes of falling snow dotted her black hair that so resembled her mother's, making the tresses look like a reflection of the bright stars in the night sky above.

 

Expectantly, she looked up at the two dragons towering over her, “You can help, right Aunt Lora, Uncle Marius? Momma was hit by an arrow.” With that, she drew back the cloak from the left side of the older woman, revealing a gaping wound made bigger by the miles traveled with it unattended.

 

Black blood seeped from it sluggishly, pooling on the ground and contrasting sharply with the pure snow. The wound was too large and too deep for normal poultices to work. Even healing by magic would not have helped since the wound was so far progressed and even if it would; only fire-mages had healing powers and Astarra was too weak and Tavia was too young. Healing powers usually didn't develop until their tenth year. Already death dimmed the yellow-eyed gaze of the fire-lady and made her breath come short in already tired lungs.

 

Seeing her aunt and uncle's dismal looks, Tavia turned her attention back to her mother, touching the bloody hole gingerly. With the contact, gold light flared then died as her healing powers tired and failed to make a difference. Tears gathered at the corners of the girl-child's yellow eyes, making twin pools of starlight.

 

Lora registered this display of power with a surprise that was muted by her sorrow at watching her dearest friend die before her eyes.

 

“Oh, Tavi-child, please don't cry. Everything will be alright.” Astarra whispered, her dimmed eyes focusing on her daughter's tear-bright ones.

 

“How can you say that? You're…”

 

“Hush now, child. I must talk to Lora and Marius.”

 

Tavia's jaw clenched as her mother turned her sweat-drenched head to the two dragons by her side.

 

“What happened, Astarra?” murmured Lora, barely audible.

 

“A mage came to the town that Rolan and I were living in, and, as luck would have it, he was of the Order of the Dove. We tried to avoid him as best we could, but eventually he sensed our presence in the town. Once that happened, he rallied the townspeople to come after us and they attacked us while we slept this night. Rolan…” here she paused and shut her eyes tightly, “he tried to protect us but it was no use. They overran him and killed him. Tavia and I barely made it out with our lives. They burned the house.” Astarra chuckled weakly at the ironic use of fire to destroy the belongings and bodies of the evil “fire-users” who were immune to that element in life, but not once dead, “We were flying here and had barely left the ground when the mage spelled an arrow and sent it at us. I dodged it but it came back and kept harrying me until I couldn't dodge it anymore and it hit.” She motioned to the wound in her side, “I couldn't land in order to heal it or even have Tavia heal it to conserve my energy. There was no way to stay motionless long enough for the healing to work. So, I did what I thought was best and just flew here as fast as I could and prayed.” The fire-mage closed her eyes again and took several deep breathes, “I'm dying, my friends. Anyone can see that. So I have a request to make of you. You are the only relatives that I know of that my daughter has, at least the only ones that I can find and know are in a safe place. You have always been good to my husband and me and now I need you to do one more favor and take care of our daughter. At least do it until she is 17 and can make the pilgrimage to the temple of Simione and go make her own way. Now she is helpless and has no one else. Please say you'll do it.” Astarra's eyes filled with desperation and pleading as she begged without moving a muscle.

 

A glance between the mated pair of dragons was all that was needed to reach a decision. “Of course we'll do it, Astarra. You should know that we love Tavia like our own and would be happy to take her in.” Marius responded for both of them, since Lora was too overcome with sobs to speak.

 

“Thank you. Both of you.” The dying woman's eyes moved to lock with her daughter's once more, “Tavi, my darling, I want you to take my locket from me now. Go on. Unclasp it.”

 

The girl's fingers numbly moved to the golden chain around her mother's neck and undid the catch at the back. She gazed at the gold heart-shaped charm that spun at the end of the chain, casting moonlight onto the snow, “But momma, I'm not supposed to have this until I'm 17. I'm still only 7.”

 

“I know, Tavia, I know. But for now we'll break the rules a little and you can wear it, but just not open it until your 17th birthday, alright?”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Good girl. You know that I love you, right?”

 

Tavia nodded mutely, eyes filled with still unshed tears, “I love you too, momma.”

 

“Good. You remember something for me, alright?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“You remember that getting revenge or hurting others never helped solve anything, you understand. Promise me that you will never hurt any human out of maliciousness or anger. Promise me, Tavia.”

 

“But momma, they killed poppa and they…hurt you.”

 

“I know, and they were wrong to do that. But don't you go about adding to their crimes and then making them your own, all right? Promise me.” Astarra's eyes bore into Tavia's fiercely, a renewed life shining in them, “Promise.”

 

“Alright, momma. I promise.”

 

“Good girl. The answers are in the heart, child, just listen to it and everything will be alright.” Astarra's hand reached up to grasp Tavia's tightly and the light left her eyes, “Good-bye, my darling.”

“Good-bye, momma.” Tears poured unchecked down the young fire-girl's cheeks as her mother's hand loosened its grip and then fell down onto the white snow, her pale skin barely making a contrast. Snowflakes clung to the wet trails left behind on Tavia's cheeks as though the snow itself was trying to dry the girl's tears. Leaning over her mother's motionless body, she rocked and sobbed painfully until Marius, who had remained the calmest throughout the whole thing despite the pain that shone diamond-bright in his eyes, came behind her and lifted her effortlessly onto his back. There she lay crying until exhaustion overcame her and forced her to sleep. Then the newly made father walked back into Shavasta, careful not to dislodge his precious burden, and the dragons still standing in the gates' shadows moved aside for him to pass.

 

Lora stayed behind, staring at her dear friend's lifeless body with tear-blurred vision. Shaking her head sadly, she lifted the body onto her back the same way Marius had lifted the girl and brought it inside to be buried properly. The work of only one night had lost two lives and made an orphan of the third.

 

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AN: This is a story I've been working on for a long time and it's finished, though not edited. Please keep in mind that I've yet to go through this whole thing and give it a good tweaking so if some things sound awkward or whatever, that's probably the reason. Review and tell me whether or not you want me to continue posting the rest of the chapters or not.

 

All these characters and concepts are the property of KABlock. Please please please don't copy from me. It makes me lose faith in the human race.