Dragon Born Read online

  “Can we go home?” Sasha asked, her breathing labored.

  “There’s no home to go back to,” Millie said. “Come on, we need to find another place to stay.”

  “Where?” Sasha asked.

  Millie shrugged. “Anywhere that will have us.” How she wished she could go back. How she wished that she could return home and find it standing, find her family well and alive. But Millie knew going back into town with those hopes would only make what she found there that much harder on her. She would rather just think of her family dying quickly in fire rather than to discover their dismembered bodies hanging from the wreckage, split in half by giant dragon teeth.

  “Come on,” Millie said, tearing her eyes from the town. “We need water and what food we can find.”

  Millie didn’t want to go though. All she wanted was to lie down and die. What had she done? Certainly she wasn’t to blame for the dragons returning, but she was definitely to blame for not getting more people to safety. Even if she hadn’t been able to save her family, she could have done more to save the baby. She could have at least warned the people she fled with that a dragon was coming behind them instead of letting them die.

  Something stirred within her, and it was foreign to her. It was a pulse of power that swayed her on her feet—a feeling of dragon scales unfurling within her. Her stomach roiled visibly, and she cried out. What was it?

  Something was inside her. Something lived within her.

  “It was dragons, I’m telling you,” Cuthburt said, looking to his wife, Kethill. “Now what are we going to do with all of our water?”

  Cuthburt was a broad man. Even though he was in his forties his body was firm from many hard years on their farm. His blue eyes were still as dazzling as she remembered, even if his dark hair had started to gray.

  Kethill imagined the same could be said about her. She was a small woman with a gentle touch, but a harsh gaze. In her youth, she’d been a beauty, but age and farm life had taken their toll on her. Her red hair had faded to strawberry blond and her green eyes had lost some of their luster.

  “Cuthburt!” Kethill said, slapping her husband’s shoulder. “Stop thinking about our money. Look at Dulasan!”

  Parts of Dulasan were still on fire, though the town was little more than rubble. Kethill could barely see the streets any longer. If she hadn’t been to Dulasan many times to sell water with Cuthburt in the past, she wouldn’t be able to tell where sleighs had hardened paths in the sand and where the wells and repositories for their water were.

  “No trade today,” Cuthburt said.

  Kethill scowled at him, but she didn’t slap him again. The truth was, if they didn’t trade their water for something they would starve. While Cuthburt was thinking about how they would survive, Kethill was wondering what in the long desert would have caused this. She avoided looking at the fragments of people clinging to fractured beams and reeds as if they’d been dropped from a great height only to impale on fragments of homes and buildings. Some of the people were torn in half, their gore spread through the ruins as if the sky had rained body parts. Thankfully she wasn’t able to see a lot of their guts and blood as it had mostly been cooked away or dried into the wood from the intense heat.

  Cuthburt pulled the reigns and their tellik, Cheffik slowed. He was a large beast with six legs perfect for traversing the sand of the long desert. He swiveled his round head to look at them, his green scales gleaming in the noon sun. He trilled as if asking a question, and his long tongue shot out to lick a bulbous eye.

  The sleigh shifted and water sloshed when Cuthburt jumped from his seat. He winced a little from his bum knee and Kethill stifled the complaint that he wasn’t a young man any longer and he needed to take it easy on his knees…he wouldn’t listen anyway.

  “Where are you going?” Kethill asked, a hand to her belly as if to settle unease churning within.

  “I told you last night that I thought I’d seen fire and heard…something.” Cuthburt frowned at the destruction around them.

  “Dragons…” Kethill sighed and stepped down from the wagon, tightening the scarf over her head. “You’re still on about that. They’re dead. They’ve been dead for hundreds of years…if they even existed.”

  “And yet here we are, in the middle of Dulasan that’s been burned to the ground. What could have caused this, Ket?”

  Kethill didn’t answer, mainly because she had no argument. If it hadn’t been dragons, what was it? Kethill didn’t want to consider what could have done this. Most of all, she didn’t want to consider dragons. That was an entirely different sack of wyrms.

  She avoided looking at the blob of black goop on the ground at her feet and lifted her trousers out of the way so she didn’t pick up any unidentified yuck while she was scouting through the town.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I’m looking for proof it was dragons,” Cuthburt said. “You can either help or you can scout for food. Anything dried like beans or meat—preferably not human meat.”

  Kethill shuddered and groaned. She hoped this wasn’t going to be a trend. If the same thing happened to other towns…

  “What do you think it was?” he asked.

  Kethill shrugged and stepped over a fallen beam and into what used to be a house. The walls had crumbled and the reeds that helped support the walls were twisted and black like a snake that had dried in the scorching sun. She hated the idea of rummaging around in homes of people she’d once known. It unsettled her and made her feel like a thief. Even if they were dead, she hated stealing from them.

  “I thought you said it was dragons,” Kethill answered. Toward the back of the house things had fared a bit better and she could see furniture, boxes, and even a couple wicker jugs that had largely escaped the fire. “Though I guess it could be any number of things really—an angry djinn, a rogue fire lizard—”

  “That would have to be a rather large clutch of fire lizards to destroy a town.”

  Kethill shrugged. “I don’t know. There are other possibilities.” Though none of her possibilities could have hung corpses from rafters as they were.

  “Yea.” Cuthburt didn’t seem to believe her. He released the spigot that kept the water in the sleigh and it rushed across the parched ground like a raging waterfall. It was deafening in the dead silence of the town, and Kethill worried that the sound might call back whatever had done this. Several moments later the water had emptied out of the sleigh and Cuthburt tossed the spigot cap into the empty space. “Load up what you can find.”

  “Are you still looking for evidence of dragons?” Kethill cleared debris from her path as she made her way to the loot.

  “I’ve found it,” Cuthburt said.

  “I thought you asked what it could be. Why ask if you knew?” Kethill wondered. Curiosity urged her back to the wagon, wondering what he’d unearthed. Stepping over the water was impossible, it was running all over the cracked earth seeking purchase in the land.

  Cuthburt held up something as large as his hand. At first Kethill thought it was a sapphire with the way the sunlight refracted off the surface, casting blue hues around the sand.

  “That can’t be…” she reached for the item tentatively. He dropped it in her hand. She expected a great weight from such a large object, but it was light enough that a stiff wind could have blown it from her hand.

  “It’s a dragon scale,” he told her though she didn’t need confirmation.

  “It’s warm,” she said. “And cold all at the same time.” Her eyes were transfixed on the scale. Within the scale glowed a kind of fire. It wasn’t a fire made of flames but instead a shimmer of rainbow light that she could feel burning her eyes. Though it hurt to look at she didn’t want to look away.

  Cuthburt snatched the scale away from her and jammed it in his pocket. “You shouldn’t look at it so long.”

  “Why?” she asked, staring at his pocket mournfully, hoping he’d pull the scale back out.

  “The myths I heard
said their scales could entrance a person, bend their will until they forgot all their cares and worries. People were said to starve if they stared too long into the scales. They forgot about thirst and hunger. They were known as scale wraiths and were obsessed with the scales.”

  Kethill opened her mouth to speak, but Cuthburt held up his hand to silence her.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  She turned, her heart in her throat, frantic that a dragon might be returning for the scale. Just when she was about to ask what he’d heard, the sound came again.

  A baby crying.

  Who could have survived this? Kethill asked herself.

  Cuthburt was already struggling through the decimated streets. He didn’t bother moving debris out of his way, instead, he clambered over burned bodies and fallen beams made out of bound reeds. He vanished into a house, only to come out moments later to vanish into the house next door. He came back out, empty-handed and waited for a moment until he heard the soft cry once more.

  When he came out of the next house, he was carrying a baby.

  She was a small baby for the amount of noise she made. She was still naked as if she’d just been birthed. She must have been born when this happened, Kethill thought, remembering the scale in her husband’s pocket. Dragons.

  The baby had caramel skin and dark hair. But it was her eyes that entranced Kethill—golden with oblong pupils, like a serpent’s eyes…or a dragon. The eyes captivated Kethill almost as surely as the scale had.

  “We are keeping her,” Kethill said, taking the baby from her husband. Cuthburt didn’t argue. They’d wanted a child for so long but couldn’t conceive, for whatever reason. Not being able to have a child had been the source of Kethill’s sadness. It wasn’t until recently that she’d accepted life without children and moved on.

  Cuthburt nodded and turned back to Dulasan. Kethill tore a swath of cloth from her sleeve and soaked up some of the water that remained in the wagon. She placed the tip of the cloth in the baby’s mouth so she could drink.

  “Find us some librak milk if you can,” Kethill said.

  Cuthburt foraged and Kethill continued to tend the baby. Eventually the child was content and Kethill sat in the front of the sleigh with her, rocking her and making cooing noises to help calm the child. Cuthburt returned with a small earthenware jug that contained librak milk.

  “Not much,” Cuthburt said. “It should do for now. If I can’t find anymore here, we will have to milk Sally when we get home and keep most of our milk for the baby.”

  “I’ve been thinking Wylan for a name,” Kethill said.

  “Wylan Atwater,” Cuthburt said and smiled. He pushed the dark hair out of his eyes and back under his scarf. “Kind of rolls off the tongue.”

  Kethill nodded and Cuthburt went back to work. When he was done, the wagon was loaded with supplies and a few more jugs of librak milk that would have to keep in their cellar along with their stores of water so it would stay cool. Kethill hadn’t paid any attention to the progress he made until he was done and they were riding home. All she could think of was the girl and how it felt right having her in her arms.

  Whatever Sasha had, Millie was positive it wasn’t a rash.

  Two days out of Dulasan her fever spiked, and Millie sought refuge in a small cave at the base of the Northern Mountains. The heat that rose off the girl’s body was intense and reminded Millie of the dragon fire the night Dulasan burned. Whenever she touched the girl’s forehead, she was reminded of the people she’d left to die at the whim of the dragons. Whenever she got close to her and could feel the incredible heat from her, Millie thought of all the children she’d helped birth, that she’d forsaken because she couldn’t stand to face the winged beasts.

  Damn wyrms, she thought. She cursed herself as much as the dragons. If only she’d been stronger. If only she’d been resolute. If only she hadn’t run. If only…

  Dragon fear, that’s what it was, she thought. If the voice that had intruded on her mind was to be trusted she’d had as little control over the fear as she’d had her bladder.

  Millie tried not to think about her own affliction that had completely encased her arm in the days since leaving home. Her sickness was taking on the same symptoms Sasha had exhibited leading up to the fever that had chased her into unconsciousness.

  Millie tried to block the thoughts of sickness and death from her mind, but Sasha was asleep and the only thing Millie had was time to think about how she had failed the people of Dulasan and what was happening to her and Sasha. Was this sickness some kind of retribution for leaving all of her friends behind? That didn’t seem right. The dragon had inflicted both of them.

  Did it have to do with that little baby? She felt terrible for considering it, but it truly was bizarre that she’d been birthed with serpent eyes the night the wyrms returned.

  Whatever it was, she couldn’t fail Sasha as she’d failed the people of Dulasan.

  Millie reached into the small pool of water that had collected at the base of the rock face in the back of the cave. With the hem of her gown, she sopped up some water and dabbed it around Sasha’s face. It steamed off her skin the moment the cloth touched her. Millie could feel the heat radiate through the wet rag, and it burned her skin. Millie sat back on her heels in wonder. With a fever so high, how was she not dead yet? The girl moaned in her fever delirium. For the last several hours, she’d been moaning, and Millie couldn’t get any kind of response from her when she tried to stimulate the girl. Knowing there was no use in—

  “Mother,” Sasha said. Her eyes flared open, locked on the ceiling. Millie looked up, but there was nothing there to be seen.

  “Sasha?” Millie asked. The girl’s eyes were dry and red. There appeared to be no moisture at all to her eyes. The lids had stuck to her eyes, and when she opened them, the membrane that covered their surface tore. Millie shuddered and turned away from the harrowing sight.

  Sasha didn’t respond to her. She continued to stare up at the ceiling and Millie wondered if she was seeing something there, or if her eyes were so dry that it was impossible for her to close them. The girl shuddered and her head fell backwards. Her body lurched and her hand came to her throat. Her eyes grew large, her mouth quivered. Her lips parted and her tongue poked out them as if she were trying to take breath, but none would come.

  “Sasha!” Millie reached for the girl, but one touch of her skin seared Millie’s hand and the woman drew back from the girl, clutching her hand to her chest. Millie shivered and felt the heat rush up her arm and slither down her back until it settled just above her waist. The heat didn’t vanish, instead it seemed to sink in, like dragon claws tearing into her…or at least what she imagined dragon claws would feel like if they were to tear into her.

  Millie’s own skin felt incredibly hot, as if the fever from Sasha had spread to her. Millie scurried away when flames leapt from Sasha. She cowered against the far wall, hoping the heat she felt within her wasn’t about to do the same thing. Though the girl burned, it seemed as if she didn’t notice. Whatever she was focused on was internal with no awareness of what happened around her.

  The girl lurched again and the fire radiated farther out from her body. Her skin blistered, reddened, and took on the look of fire. Millie scrambled farther away, noticing for the first time that the dried, infected skin had taken more of Sasha’s body—it was now covering half her face. The pattern shifted, slithered further across her face and soon consumed her head entirely.

  Millie was certain that it wasn’t a rash. If it was possible, Millie would have said her skin was turning to scales.

  Sasha’s skin darkened like meat cooking over an open fire. Her flesh tightened and cracked. From the cracks, clear liquid flowed followed by blood and other fluids that Millie didn’t want to guess what they were.

  The smell of burning flesh and sizzling hair was enough to make Millie sick, but she fought the urge to vomit.

  And then Sasha collapsed, her body went lax, and
the last dying breath rattling from her chest. Her body continued to burn from the fever until her little form quivered and crumbled like ash in a stiff wind.

  Millie cried out and fled the cave. Her head felt like an aching cloud had settled on her shoulders. It throbbed, her eyes felt too large for her face, as if any moment they would burst free from their sockets. Millie wondered if she might have some relief if they did. Her nose made breathing impossible and she worried that maybe she’d breathed in some of the ash that exploded out from Sasha.

  The sun was bright on the dunes and in the light Millie was able to imagine that none of this had happened, that she wasn’t standing far from home and family in the middle of nowhere, venturing to a place she’d never been, hoping that the imperial city of Durabai still stood. Hoping that dragons hadn’t already destroyed it too.

  Millie turned back to the cave, part of her wondering if she’d really just seen what had happened, the other part of her thankful she was putting it behind her. She worried she wouldn’t make it to Durabai before she died.

  She wasn’t sure how she’d make it there now that she’d run out of water. Water farms were scattered throughout the long desert, but there was no telling if she’d luck out and run across one before she died of thirst. She doubted the water within the cave was still any good, even if she’d wanted to go back for it and brave the sight of Sasha’s ruined body again.

  Hours later Millie was dehydrated…or so she assumed. All she wanted was to lay down and forget everything that had happened to her. Lay down and let the long desert claim her and everything she’d seen and been through could fade to dust. Her hand itched insatiably, and when she looked down it was to see the infected skin had spread.

  An hour later, Millie couldn’t go on. Her muscles ached and she felt as though she were burning up.

  Three hours later Millie’s body was covered with infection, and she was certain this time that her skin was turning to scales. The fever was so intense that the sand in her immediate vicinity had started to blacken.