Chapter 6
AMAIA
The entrance of the hatchery was protected by a fenced-in stone courtyard and illuminated with glowing orbs that sat atop alabaster pedestals. The orbs shone a warm amber, casting deep shadows across the double doors, set into the wide archway.
I couldn’t make out the sheer scale and size of the building but truthfully was too tired to care much about it at the present moment. Beyond the entrance, there was a small empty chamber, and Syris led me through another doorway directly forward.
There was a hushed quiet that seeped into these stone walls, the kind of quiet that made me hold my breath as I followed after Syris.
“This is where we usually keep the hatchling pens,” she announced, her quiet voice incredibly loud in the echoing chamber.
I nearly jumped, a sharp exhale escaping me.
“But it’s not mating season yet. The only eggs we have are rescues and a few late-nesting broods from some of our Elthika.
Rythbacks, specifically. But their kind are more prone to late nestings anyway. ”
My mind reeled with the stream of information. “It’s not mating season?” I asked, my voice bouncing through the empty chamber, as if to amplify my unspoken question.
If there were no Elthika eggs, then why open the position for the exchange?
“Oh, no,” Syris replied. “Riding season is here. After the illa’rosh, the Elthika will begin to nest.”
The illa’rosh? It was apparent I had much to learn.
“Right,” I said softly, as if I had any idea what she was talking about. “So what am I meant to do here?”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Syris said, casting me a glance, biting the unscarred section of her mouth with worry. “There is still plenty to do with the eggs we have. Rythbacks are always more…needful than others. But you’ll learn.”
I gave her a small, tired smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”
We entered another chamber after Syris slid open the bolted latch on the door.
When we stepped through, I felt the heat hit me like a wall, a strange earthy smell that reminded me of pyrokis, making me suck in a sharp breath.
Suddenly, longing for home cut through me.
The memory of the pyroki pens in the early mornings as I made my rounds gave me—
There they were.
Elthika eggs.
Each nestled into little alcoves along the stone walls. The alcoves themselves were oval in shape, similar in curvature to an individual egg, with a flat base. My heart picked up in excitement, my exhaustion and sore legs momentarily banished as I approached one.
The alcove base was flat because each egg was nestled into a bed of what looked like glowing embers. I could feel the heat radiate from them, but it didn’t look like fire. There were no flames, I noticed, perplexed.
“Starstone,” Syris explained, joining me. “Clusters of them fall in the Arsadia during winter. We break them up because they’re a constant heat source for incubation.”
“The Arsadia?” I asked, my eyes pinned to the stones. They looked like rubies, like fire gems, glistening in the darkness like each trapped a pool of lava. Like the gem around my own neck.
And the egg itself…it was larger than I expected. The size of a large water jug with overlapping scales that resembled a pyroki’s.
“This is the Arsadia,” Syris explained. “This land. Elthikan territory.”
My expression must have been one of frustrated puzzlement because Syris gave me a smile filled with amused sympathy.
“I’m certain it will get easier with time. Especially after a good night’s rest. Whenever I have to travel to Grym, I just want to sleep for days on end.”
Before I could ask any more questions, she ushered me through the chamber of eggs.
I counted a dozen or so. Most of them were similar in color—a pale beige with tones of copper—but a few I spied tucked into their separate alcoves were vastly different shades.
One a deep bloodred, the color of the Karath’s dragon, Samryn.
Another was black with shimmering scales tipped in silver.
Another was a beautiful shade of light blue, almost iridescent like thissie feathers from home.
Wonderment filled me, and while I was loath to leave the chamber, I realized that I would be patient. I would learn everything. Not for the Dothikkar, but because I wanted to. Because I thought I might love these creatures as much as I did pyrokis.
Syris latched the chamber door behind us, going through another hallway that cut through the building. I saw door after door, some open, some closed.
She went to an open one and gestured inside. “Your chambers,” she explained.
I stepped inside, seeing the candle sconces already lit on the wall, their wax dripping, one making a little puddle on the stone floor, which was partially covered in a thin rug to keep the chill away.
There were two small beds on either side of the room, a large window along the wall between them, moonlight streaming through it. A table sat next to the door, and I saw a tray there, with a carafe of water and dried meats, nuts with wrinkled flesh, and a thick crust of bread.
“I prepared the room,” Syris said, her cheeks pinkening a bit. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“You’re too kind,” I told her softly.
“It’s all yours,” she explained, casting her eyes to the empty, unmade bed. “It’s offseason, so there are only a few of us working in the hatchery right now. I’m right next door if you need anything. Oh, and you’ll find the washroom at the very end of the hallway. We all share it.”
I nodded my head.
“Get some rest,” she told me as I set down my travel sack against the table leg. “I’ll come get you in the morning so you can meet Tarkosh.”
“Tarkosh?”
“She oversees the hatchery,” Syris explained. “We all apprentice beneath her.”
Just like home, then, I thought, thinking of my own mrikro.
“Kakkira vor, Syris,” I said. When her brow furrowed, I amended sheepishly, “Thank you.”
“Oh,” she said, looking flustered. “That’s what Dakkari sounds like. I’ve always wondered.”
My half-hearted chuckle echoed as she gave me another smile and bid me good night, taking her leave. She closed the door behind her, leaving me on my own.
Finally, I thought, eyeing the bed. Though it was raised from the earth, on wooden legs, I wouldn’t question it. In fact, I thought of nothing else—not the food, not changing out of my dirtied clothes—as I headed straight for it.
I might’ve already been asleep by the time my body met the thin mattress.
“She can be…harsh at times,” Syris told me as she led me through the hatchery hallway, streams of sunlight pouring in from the windows. “But you will find no one with more knowledge of Elthikan hatchlings in all of Karak.”
She said that last bit proudly, though her voice was nearly a whisper, as if she was worried Tarkosh would overhear.
“I’m glad,” I said truthfully, squaring my shoulders. “I want to learn from the best. That’s why I’m here.”
A small lie, perhaps, but also a partial truth. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of being here? Last night had sparked determination and wonderment in me, which had only amplified after a good night’s sleep.
“I trust you slept well?” Syris asked me. “Were you comfortable? I know it can get cold in the rooms at night—”
“It was perfect,” I told her in assurance. “I don’t think I moved once. And that washing tub this morning was probably the best thing I’d ever experienced after flying for who knows how long.”
Her slight giggle was cut short when someone pulled open a door to our right suddenly. Another bedroom, I saw. A male stepped through, bleary-eyed, swiftly tying the laces of his trousers. Behind him, I caught a flash of naked legs, still in bed.
He looked surprised to see us standing there. He only glanced at me momentarily, his eyes narrowing before they cut to Syris. “Is Tarkosh up?”
“For hours,” she replied, her tone a little stiff. “You know the rules. No outside visitors when we have eggs in the—”
He tugged the door firmly closed behind himself and snorted. “Like anyone follows those rules.”
“You’re the only one who breaks them,” Syris sniffed.
“Then who’s this?” he growled, jerking his head at me.
He was a handsome male, I noticed, with dark skin that made his green irises appear darker, and a commanding presence.
“This is Amaia,” Syris answered, her tone defensive, almost snappish. I held back a smile. “Our new apprentice. From Dakkar.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
His gaze was assessing. Mistrustful. “A true Dakkari,” he murmured. “Huh. I’m disappointed.”
My brows rose. I nearly laughed. Not in offense. In incredulousness. I also knew what he was doing. Sizing me up. Testing me. I’d dealt with it for years with Myre, since we were both after the same position.
“Maybe you can write to the Dothikkar about your displeasure,” I suggested, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I hear he loves to take complaints from the Karag.”
He tilted his head at me. Then he snorted again, shaking his head. “Washroom free?”
“Yes,” Syris replied, her gaze going to the closed door behind him meaningfully. For someone seemingly afraid of her own shadow, she wasn’t backing down. “Please show your guest out before Tarkosh finds out.”
His heavy sigh followed him down the hallway. I could feel Syris stiffen with annoyance, and then she scoffed a little under her breath before resuming our path down the hallway. We went past the incubation room from last night, though I could feel the heat seep from it like flesh.
“Former lover?” I asked softly.
Her face flooded red. “Me and Moak? On Muron, no.”
I suppressed a smile, nodding. Interesting.
Syris cleared her throat. “He just thinks he’s above the rules. He forgets they’re there for a reason.”