Chapter 6 #2
She guided us through a heavy wood door, and I heard a strange animal sound.
The door led out to a fenced-in courtyard, decorative tree plants along the perimeter for privacy.
Beyond the courtyard, around trunks and boughs of the gnarled trees, I saw stone houses, smoke rising from chimneys, all shadowed in the morning light from the mountain behind them.
I swore I saw the dark flash of an Elthika disappear into the side of the jagged rockface.
The sound I’d heard came again. A rumbling growl coupled with a low chirping that reminded me of a young pyroki.
I saw wings first. Small wings, the membranes so thin that they were nearly translucent. His scales were a sleek gray threaded with black strands and he had two small horns protruding from his thick skull.
“Is that…?”
“Yes,” Syris answered me.
A baby dragon. Or whatever the term was that the Karag used.
“A hatchling,” Syris told me, as if reading my mind. Which, for a moment, I’d worried she might’ve.
You’re being silly, I thought, shaking off the worry as I watched the hatchling dart around the courtyard on strong limbs. It was no bigger than a newborn pyroki. Small enough that I might be able to cradle it in my arms.
“Hatched only three days ago,” came a voice.
There was a Karag female, seated on a bench in the shadow of a tree to our right.
She had a small silver cup in her hand, and she took a sip from it as she regarded me carefully over the rim.
She had golden eyes and dark gray hair. And when she stood from her place, I saw she was taller than even me, dressed in black fitted trousers and a silvery blue long-sleeved tunic.
There were wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth, which made her look like she was perpetually frowning.
“You must be Amaia,” she murmured, setting her cup down on the small metal table next to her. The hatchling dragon scampered past my leg, like it had energy to burn. “Amaia of Rath Savenal.”
I blinked, not having heard my bloodline’s name addressed by a Karag before.
“Yes, that’s right,” I said, inclining my head at her in respect.
“What exactly do you wish to discover here?” she asked quietly.
My brow furrowed, and I glanced up at her, meeting her golden eyes. “I want to learn.”
“What?”
“Everything,” I said, waving my hand to gesture at the hatchling, to the hatchery behind me.
“A tall ask for a single season,” she replied. I assumed this was Tarkosh, the master of the hatchery.
“I know,” I said. “But my mrikro told me that our creatures might not be so different from one another, that they were all given life by Kakkari. I’ve worked with pyrokis nearly my entire life. I hope to apply some of that experience here. It’s why I’m here.”
Tarkosh assessed me, her eyes narrowed. Then she smiled.
I relaxed, but only briefly, because she then said, “And yet we are very different. We don’t believe in your Kakkari.
We believe in our Elthika. And if you think that your little earthen beasts are anything like them, then you have much to learn. ”
My smile died slowly. “What shall I call you?” I asked, not one to be defeated by words.
“By my name. What else?”
“In Dakkar, we address the masters with a title of respect, befitting their knowledge and experience.”
Tarkosh said, “But we aren’t in Dakkar, Amaia. Call me Tarkosh and nothing else.”
I swallowed, then forced a smile. “Tarkosh.”
“This is a Rythback,” she told me, changing the subject entirely, since our first meeting wasn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped.
“A species of Elthika that dominate the northwest of our homeland. His egg was found rejected by the mother. While you’re here, you’ll likely be primarily handling Rythbacks.
We have another ten in incubation currently. ”
“Yes,” I said, glancing at Syris, who was standing back. “Syris explained that they tend to nest late?”
Tarkosh nodded, her lips pinching. “We expect another to hatch in the coming days. So be careful what you wish for. Rythbacks are menaces at this age. Today you can acquaint yourself with this one. Enjoy the reprieve while you can.”
With that, she walked past me.
“And where is Moak?” she asked Syris. “Ulin needs help with the nests.”
Syris’s voice squeaked as she said, “He’s in the washroom…he’ll be out shortly.”
I noticed she didn’t snitch on his guest, but I turned my attention to the hatchling that was scurrying around the courtyard. Not even my less than wonderful meeting with Tarkosh would deter my awed smile as I crouched down.
“Hello, little one,” I greeted when the hatchling approached me with wariness.
Tarkosh had referred to it as a “he.” I wanted to know how to discern that for myself.
A pyroki’s sex, to an untrained eye, was difficult to determine, but I could tell almost immediately at birth.
The slant of a jaw, the width and breadth of the ribs, the angle of a limb as it tapered down into their claws, the distance between their tall ears and horns.
The hatchling snapped at my hand, and I bit back a smile, in case he thought I was baring my teeth like a predator. He grunted, a constant huffing sound, before he snapped again. I felt his teeth that time, dull and nearly painless.
I could feel Tarkosh watching me and figured this was a test. I couldn’t afford for her to write me off as a silly Dakkari fool.
I built up a little thimble of my heartstone magic, closing my eyes briefly as I imagined it shooting out of my fingertips, like warm currents of energy that would seep into the Elthika.
I could feel the hatchling’s curious wariness, the thunderous beat of his heart against his ribs. I nearly gasped at the raw magic I felt flowing within the Elthika, so potent and surprising that it nearly brought tears pricking my eyes.
Awe channeled through me. I reached forward and felt the Elthika’s snout sniff at my hand.
The moment I felt him arch into my palm, I cut off the current, sealing it back inside me. I couldn’t afford to be exhausted by it, but I’d never connected with an Elthika before. Only pyrokis. Only my family.
“We’ll be good friends,” I murmured, my eyelids lifting to watch the Rythback male nuzzle into my hand, as if seeking more of the warmth of my heartstone magic. “Won’t we?”
Footsteps approached behind me. Tarkosh peered down at me, her eyes flickering to the Elthika. Her gaze was assessing, puzzled. Maybe I could still make a good impression after all.
“It seems you aren’t afraid,” she said. “Good.”
I felt a little pleasure bloom inside me.
“But we’ll see if you last the day,” she finished.
Clearly I had my work cut out for me.