Funny enough, this wasn’t my first dragon book. It was the first I published, but not the first I wrote. It was actually inspired by a throwaway line from Seyda’s 2nd book.
“The first Dragonrider was a female. You remind me very much of her.”
And I wondered, who is that first Dragonrider? Because by Seyda’s story, we already had a world where dragons and humans got along and dragons were letting humans raise their hatchlings. I had to start by figuring out how the first human was able to raise a dragon. Thus Kaylyn’s story was born.
Chapter 1
“Behave, Kaylyn,” I muttered to myself, stalking across the rocky ground. I kicked a stone moodily, glaring at the scenery I would have otherwise appreciated. I was at the edge of the Esperion Mountains, the mountain range that ran from the north part of Centralia to the western deserts. I’d followed the mountain range in the distance until the dirt had started to turn to rock, then followed the shadows westward. The sun was starting to sink behind the mountains, turning the sky a glorious series of colors that I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy.
“Act like a lady, Kaylyn.” I continued to mutter blackly. “You need to catch a husband someday. You don’t want to be an old maid, do you?” I kicked another stone. “As if turning thirteen makes me an old maid.”
The horse whickered behind me. I glared at it a moment, in case it was mocking me, then went back to grab a torch, items for making a fire, and a sack of soft powder from the carriage the horse had pulled. Inside was a trunk of clothes, a pack with a dwindling food supply, and various items I hadn’t wanted to leave behind. The horse’s food was on top of the carriage.
“So what if I’ve never had a suitor? They’d rather have my sisters anyway. Maybe I don’t want to get married. I apparently wouldn’t make a good wife anyway.” I slammed the end of the torch into the soft ground, then proceeded to light a fire, grimly satisfied. Here was something that my sisters and my mother couldn’t manage to do. I could at least do something as simple as lighting a fire far better than they ever could. And since it was the end of February, I’d need that skill to keep warm.
The fire lit, I opened the sack of green-colored powder and sprinkled some of the powder onto the fire. The delight of watching the flames turn green, grow stronger with the momentary flare then fade back to the warm colors of a fire never ceased to interest me. Amina, my only friend, had spent four hours with me, playing with green powder, watching the different shades it turned as more or less of the powder was dropped in. The only real danger was making sure the flames didn’t grow so high they caught my clothing on fire. That was less of a worry for me because my sleeves only just covered my shoulders. If anyone else had seen me, I’d have been in trouble. The top was obviously too small for me, because any appearance of shoulders was scandalous. The flames couldn’t have caught my hair, which I’d cut half an hour away from home. My black hair now swung just above my shoulders. My hair hadn’t been that short since I’d been a child. If my mother ever saw me, she’d hide me away until my hair reached an acceptable length again.
“I guess I’m hopeless,” I said, feeling more peaceful as I watched the flames turn an emerald shade. “Which is why I’m never going back. You won’t miss me anyway.” I gave a mocking curtsey to an invisible gentleman. “Oh, yes, I think all women have a duty to bear eight children,” I said with syrupy sweetness. “And that women shouldn’t risk waiting to marry in case they turn eighteen and become spinsters. Hah!” I made a derisive noise. “I’d rather be a spinster.” I stuck my hand in the bag to grab more powder. “And I will never marry for money.”
I’d played with the green powder for maybe five minutes when a roar startled me. The sound was so huge and so foreign it could only have been one thing.
“Dragon,” I breathed, scrambling to my feet. Although dragons lived in the Esperion Mountains, people rarely saw them. Those that did encounter a dragon almost always came away with a story of their near death. I didn’t care how dangerous it was; I had to see a dragon.
There came another roar, and this time I could clearly understand the anger in the sound. I was more careful as I climbed up the rocky ledge to peer curiously over the edge, then froze in horror.
There was a huge, white dragon on the ground, one wing furled, the other looking as if it had been stepped on by some huge being. The dragon was curled, hissing in defiance, roaring in pain and anger at the dozens of brown wyverns overhead. Some had landed, but those were more endangered. All dragons could blow flame and the long neck allowed them to twist it in any direction. I watched the dragon send flame at an overeager wyvern in front, and the creature shrieked, trying to escape its death without success. For all that wyverns looked like dragons, they were far stupider. They were also smaller, so the dragon had the advantage of bulk. Wyverns were roughly the size of a horse and their tails were short and stubby. Adult dragons were usually more than three times their size with long tails like their necks. However, the number of wyverns gave them the advantage; they were winning.
I wanted to help, but hesitated. I couldn’t fight this many wyverns. I wasn’t sure I could manage one wyvern, but the dragon was outnumbered. The wyverns were screeching what I could only describe as a victory cry as they swooped down again and again to lash out at the dragon who was unable to fly to escape them. I wasn’t big enough or good enough to handle all of these beasts, but I could make them think I could. Wyverns were easily confused. They’d attacked near my home often enough that I knew their biggest weakness…fire.
I raced back to grab the torch, the sack, and my bow and quiver of arrows. Using the green powder, I sprinkled a little on each arrow, then dipped the arrowhead into the torch a second before firing. As the arrows went through the air, they burst into green flame, growing larger before plunging into my target. I didn’t always hit the wyverns, but I made sure I would never hit the dragon. Those that had landed took flight, searching for their new attacker. And suddenly I realized that they would be coming after me.
I screamed in terror as one of them came for me. I instinctively scrambled for the torch, dropping everything as I dove to avoid the swipe by the wyvern. It swooped overhead, screeching angrily, unwilling to risk the searing burn of fire. Grabbing for my bow, I knocked it over the edge of the cliff and watched it plummet to the ground with dismay.
I felt something that I could only describe as a sigh in my mind, as if the world had given up that I was good for anything.
“Oh, shut up!” I shouted, and grabbed the sack, plunging my hand in and throwing a handful of powder at the torch. The flames flared and turned bright green as the mass of powder hit it, and the wyvern that had dived down for me swerved, panicked at the sight of an unnaturally colored fire, and slammed into the ground farther away.
Interest was now in my mind, interest that wasn’t mine. Fear didn’t allow me to think about that oddity. I grabbed my quiver and slung it on my back before I picked up my torch and scrambled down. Two more flares of green powder kept the wyverns off me until I managed to get to my bow. I shot another arrow lit with green fire at the wyverns above me, then raced towards the safety of the dragon, stopping momentarily to send another arrow towards the wyverns. I was fumbling to string the next arrow as much as my hands shook, but the bright flare of green flame was enough to keep them away. I just hoped the dragon didn’t decide I was an enemy too and engulf me in flame next.
The dragon adjusted around something as I got closer. “You shoot badly.”
My arm jerked on this shot, sending it miraculously into a wyvern. The dragon had spoken in my mind, and the sensation was shocking. A flood of information suddenly followed those words. The dragon was a female. She was angry. She didn’t like me. She respected my bravery. She had something she had to protect. And there was a feeling of despair I didn’t understand.
She spoke again, her voice critical and dry. “You do better when you are supposed to do worse.”
“You’re welcome,” I retorted, voice shaking and ruining any attempt at bravery I’d shown. “Can you flame?” I fumbled for the sack of powder.
“Throw the bag.”
I hadn’t meant to use the entire bag, but I obeyed and threw it up in the air towards the most wyverns. The dragon tipped her head back and sent a stream of flame in the air. The bag caught fire and exploded into green flame, catching most of the wyverns as the powder spread and flamed. Those that survived scattered. Those that didn’t fell to the ground as burning heaps. The area was suddenly silent except for the crackle of flames.
I sank to my knees, shaky. My body trembled with adrenaline and fear. “Are you okay? Are you…oh, geez,” I whispered. There was a large gash across her chest, the softer skin not covered by scales, and blood, it could only be blood even though it was black, was dripping down over her scales. I could now hear that she wasn’t breathing well. “I…I…” I knelt helplessly. “Is there anything I can do?”
The dragon stared me down. To my astonishment, I saw her eyes changing color; flickering, deepening, the eyes always on me. I’d heard stories about dragons’ eyes changing, but always that they went their deepest red just before flaming. I watched for red cautiously.
“Human, if I asked you for something, would you do it? Something that would ensure the life of another?”
I nodded slowly, wondering what it was.
“Do you have someone you can trust? Someone who can help you?”
I thought of my brother. “Maybe. I don’t know what I’m doing so I don’t know…”
“I have an egg,” she said bluntly. “And I am going to die.”
My mind immediately tried to reject that thought. Dragons didn’t just die. I couldn’t name three instances I’d heard of a dragon being killed, not that could be proved anyway. But with her injuries, I knew nothing else could survive. And I suddenly understood the feeling of despair. She knew what was coming. I swallowed hard. “Where do you want me to take the egg? Where would I find other dragons?”
“Not other dragons.” Her gaze never left mine. “You must raise my young one.”
“Me?” I squeaked. “You want me to raise a dragon? I can’t! No one knows anything about dragons! And I don’t know what to feed it or…”
“I will tell you. I will only be able to tell you once. Then you must take my egg and go.” She shifted, showing the shimmering, pale egg.
“It’s nearly as tall as I am,” I said despairingly.
“You must find a way. The wyverns will be back.”
“Don’t you have a…a husband or something? Someone I can go find?”
“My mate is dead,” she answered. “And any dragon would kill you on sight.” She let out a groan, a deep sound that frightened me. “You are young, are you not? For a human?”
I nodded, heart in my throat. “Thirteen. I just turned thirteen day before yesterday.”
“Young. But old enough. I have heard stories of girls marrying at your age.”
“Yes, but not many, and it’s not really that way anymore. We marry at fifteen now, and sometimes at fourteen.”
“Such a difference,” the dragon said in amusement.
“Most don’t marry until they’re sixteen,” I continued, hoping she’d understand. “I won’t be a good caretaker for your baby. Surely there’s some way to help you.”
“There is not. You let fear stop you from seeing the truth. Without a parent, my baby will die. It is less than a week from hatching. Do you have a way to take my egg somewhere safe?”
I thought of the carriage over the hill. “Yes,” I whispered.
Her tail curved around, pushed me closer so that I was trapped under the gaze of those soul-searching eyes. “Will you swear to me now that you will take care of my hatchling? Will you swear to protect it from your kind and raise it?”
My eyes filled with tears. This great creature knew she was going to die and she was focused only on saving her egg. “Yes. I swear. I swear I’ll take care of him. Her. Whatever it is. I’ll take care of it the best I can.”
She let out a great cough, curled tighter around the egg a moment, then relaxed. “Get what you have brought. I will help you as much as I can.”
I raced away, up the rocky outcrop to the carriage. The horse needed a little coaxing and a lot of pushing to get him to the dragon. I’d covered his eyes so he couldn’t see, but what he could smell didn’t encourage him to move. He tried to rear up twice and I fought to keep him steady, talking soothingly and trying to keep him calm. The dragon simply watched until I got the horse and the little carriage around near the egg. She managed to get a paw under the egg, and together we pushed it inside. I wasn’t sure how I’d get it out, but decided that would be much later.
“The egg must be warm,” the dragon said. “Not hot, but warm. You must speak to it constantly. It does not know you. If it does not recognize your voice, it will harm you. It does not recognize you as a friend, or a caretaker. I have tried to tell it that you will protect it, but I cannot be sure it will not harm you.”
“Is it rational?” I asked, thinking of human children.
“It is. Dragons are born smarter than humans. It will know how to speak as I speak. It will know and remember whatever it hears through its shell. It will know that you are not a dragon and so you must be careful.”
I nodded.
“It will be hungry. Hatching is the best time to gain its trust. You must show you can care for it. Have food ready when the hatching begins. It must be able to get to the food on its own. Feed it meat, small pieces so it does not choke. Liquids. Milk with honey. You must never feed it cooked meat.”
“Won’t raw meat make it sick?”
“Semi-cooked. Never fully cooked. Dragons must eat raw meat. You must cook it a little for the first month. Then lessen it. By the second month, it should only eat raw meat. It will not be able to flame until after the first year. You must teach it how to fly. You must oil it or the skin will crack and bleed and the scales will fall off. If the scales are discolored, it is a sign of sickness. Some human medicines will work. Some will poison it. Always test it before.”
“How?”
“Use a scale holding a little blood; mix the medicines with the blood and put it on the scales. If either is discolored, it is not safe for dragons. Clean the dragon often. Dirty dragons will become sick and lose scales.”
I listened to everything she told me, trying desperately to commit this to memory. I asked questions and listened for almost an hour. Finally, her eyes closed wearily. “That is all I can do. Take my egg. Go.”
I didn’t know this dragon, but I didn’t want to leave it out here. “Is there anything I can do? Some way to help you?”
“No, human.”
“Please, give me something to try.” I stepped towards her.
She let out a growl, her eyes snapping open. I saw they were bright red. “Go, human. Now.”
I backed away quickly, tears stinging my eyes. “My name is Kaylyn, not human.”
“Kaylyn? It is a silly human name.”
“Well, it’s the name of the human who’s going to be raising your son or daughter, so get used to it.” I wiped my eyes. “What should I name the baby?”
“It is your choice. It must be like dragon names.”
“I don’t know any dragon names.”
“Two parts. Skywind. Crystalwing. Blackfury.” Her eyes closed again. “If you look, you will find names of dragons. Humans keep records of dragons because they fear us. Now go.”
I obeyed this time, knowing she’d never let me get close. I turned the horse and walked it away from the dragon.
As I reached the top of the hill, her voice, fainter, resounded in my mind. “Tell my hatchling I was Rosewing, and my mate was Courageheart.”
“I will,” I thought back, not knowing if she would hear me like this. There wasn’t a reply.
From inside the carriage, from the egg, there came a sound. Fear. Curiosity. It made me think of a child calling for its mother.
“Everything will be okay,” I told it, tears stinging my eyes again. “I know I’m not much, but I’ll take care of you now.” Behind me, the sun slowly set, casting us into darkness.