The egg was self-destructing from the inside out. Fragments of opalescent shell fell off, bit by bit as the crevices widened like a cracked goblet of wine, dwindling away to reveal a writhing, living creature.
Fletcher was backing away from the scene, a distinct look of trepidation transforming his visage. Blayre, was more awestruck than fearful as she watched with riveted attention as a small serpentine creature emerged from the ruins of the egg shell. There was a pop of magical energy that Blayre felt, followed by a dissipation of the ancient magic. It was replaced by something that felt similar, yet somehow foreign.
"Small" was perhaps not the proper use to describe the dragonling. It was about the size of one of the terriers used to hunt vermin on the palace grounds. It's body was round and muscular and covered in smooth grayish scales that lighted an iridescent purple and blue in the meager light that was showing through the cloud-ridden sky above the treetops. The thing stretched out it's serpentine neck, exposing a lighter underside, and two large obsidian eyes that blinked at her from below two protruding growths on its head. Blayre recalled the dragons of legend, come alive in the rich illustrations of old library books. Books that Caval had studied in great detail. Those dragons had horns, and sharp teeth. They had clawed feet, talon-tipped wing, and scales like armored jewels.
The dragonling opened its jaws, revealing a surprisingly toothless mouth, and let out a feeble squeaking noise. Despite the innocence of it, Blayre nearly jumped out of her skin and took a step back. Fletcher's arms steadied her, though she could feel the trembling in his hands through her drenched clothing.
The dragonling arched its neck and squeaked again. A pathetic, hungry sound. And when she looked down at it, and their eyes met with a clash of obsidian and gold, she felt her Sense shudder as something clicked into place.
Blayre crouched down, and reached out to the dragonling, slowly, wishing she were wearing a pair of falconers gloves, even if the thing was toothless. She touched it's neck and was surprised by how smooth and warm the small creature was. Its magic tingled along her fingertips and through her entire body.
"Hello," She crooned to the dragonling, not knowing what else to do. It squeaked at her again, opening its maw.
"It's hungry," Fletcher said shakily. "But what do dragons even eat?"
"It doesn't matter what it eats." Blayre sighed, standing and wiping her hands on her wet breeches. "We have to take care of it."
"Take care of it?" His incredulous look hadn't missed the tone in her voice, for she did not mean that they were going to care for it, but rather get rid of it. "Blayre, it's just a harmless little thing," Fletcher said, holding out his hands.
"You were just trembling at the sight of it a moment ago." Blayre pointed out, dryly.
"I was, but I've had a change of heart."
"It may be harmless now," Blayre said, looking down at it, forcing as much bitterness into her words as she could. Perhaps if she spoke bitterly, she would feel more of the bitterness that she'd harbored before it had hatched. "But if we allow it to live, one day it won't be harmless." She drew her blade from its sheath - the wolf-engraved dagger - and leaned down to end the dragonling and the power bid that it would surely cause - that it had already caused - once and for all.
"Don't!"
Blayre froze and looked up, startled as Caval approached them. She'd been so absorbed in the dragon that she hadn't even felt him approach - or perhaps he had not wanted her to notice this time.
Blayre realized that the rain and wind gusts had died down while she had been absorbed with the dragonling's hatching.
The sorcerer looked haggard - more exhausted than he had been down in the caverns - with sunken eyes and a drawn face. And horror-stricken too when he looked at the blade in her hand. "Blayre, what in Twelve Hells are you doing?"
"Ending this, before it can begin." She drew back her arm again, and swallowed, before she lost her resolve.
"Stop. When did it hatch?"
Blayre ignored him, schooling her face into one lacking emotion, and began to swing her arm down, aiming for the dragonling's neck.
Caval's hands grasped her arm firmly, and she tried to fight him off. "Blayre! WHEN DID IT HATCH!?"
She couldn't recall if she had ever heard Caval raise his voice to her like that. She had always thought of her sorcerer friend as a calm, cool lake. But now that even, unblemished body of water had been disrupted by the storm.
"It only just hatched. Moments ago. Right before our eyes." Fletcher answered for her in a resigned tone. "Blayre, let the man speak."
Blayre breathed in and jutted her chin out. She was going to lose her resolve, if she didn't hurry. And the potential fate of the kingdom â no â the world even, rested on her shoulders with this one, simple task. "I'll let you explain your thoughts," She allowed, "But unless you give me a damned good reason not to, I am destroying that thing before it gets into the wrong hands and destroys the world. It's already caused enough trouble." She hadn't realized, but she was inadvertently waving her blade rather close to Caval's face.
"That thing, Blayre, is bonded to you."
"It's what?"
"If the history can be believed, dragons bond to the first living creature they see - typically their mother. But I read that years and years ago when they used to breed the dragons, the Dragon Keepers would make sure the hatchlings bonded to them. To ensure utmost loyalty."
Blayre took a deep, steadying breath. "That's ridiculous. You can't know that." But she thought of the snap of magic that had occurred when the dragonling had met her eyes, like a rope, lassoed and drawn taught.
"I don't know that for sure. But I suspect it could be true." Caval shrugged.
"Will I feel it, then? If it dies?" She spoke quietly and glanced down at the dragonling who blinked up at her and squeaked again. It took one tentative step toward her. Then another. She felt her heart soften.
"I'm not sure," Caval admitted, his shoulders relaxing.
Blayre sheathed her blade and all but sank to the ground in front of the infant dragon. It flapped underdeveloped, translucent wings. All of the fight in her had left and with it the adrenaline and the anger and bitterness. How could she take that out on this innocent creature? She reached out to it, and it snapped at her hand. She cursed, quickly retracting her hand. "What do they eat?"
Caval tapped a finger to his chin. "I assume meat, like most predators." He and Fletcher were still eying Blayre warily.
"Great," Blayre said, standing and wiping her hands on her thighs, "Because there's so much of it around currently." The forest around them remained stoically silent and still, lacking the usual chatter of fauna. "Where are Bartley and the others?"
Caval glanced over his shoulder, "Still capable of causing damage unfortunately. We need to get out of here."
Fletcher nodded, glancing around, "We'll have to find it food, but we should start moving." He gestured at the dragonling. "I have some dried meat. And we can find something fresh along the way."
Blayre sighed. "I need food as well. What do you think is the safest direction to go in?"
"The safest place for us to get to would be the rebel camp." Caval suggested. "But unfortunately that brings us through Blumore and far too close to Mountainer territory."
"And Blumore is also too close to the Mountainers for my own comfort," Blayre said with a sigh. I think our best option i to head in a direction that is unexpected." She pulled at her braid. "We could head for the coast."
"Hmm... that's a possibility." mused Caval. "And an easy escape route if we need to run."
"Blayre, we have to go back to the Capital. We'll get accused of abandoning our post." Fletcher interjected.
"Don't you think that's happened already?" Blayre asked incredulously "We've been gone for a while now."
"To be fair, you were kidnapped," Fletcher narrowed his gaze on Caval.
"Yes, to protect her from the Crown!" Caval looked incredulous. "If you think I would ever intentionally harm her..." He had moved uncomfortably close to Fletcher so the two men were standing almost nose to nose.
"The Crown, or just the Crown Sorcerer. Does the Queen know he's gone rogue?" Fletcher asked. "We need to inform her, if she hasn't been informed already."
"Since I have control of the wee beastie, I think I should determine our destination." Blayre interjected, before the two men could tear each other to shreds.
She glanced down at the dragonling. "How do you feel about fish?" She asked it. It replied with a mewl of hunger.
A/N: Â I've decided to post this today instead of Friday - I'm hoping that it motivates me to get out another chapter by the time the weekend is up! Â What do you think those pesky Mountainers and Bartley up to?