CHAPTER 13
Elena
July 1429
I f my ten-year-old self found out I was about to fly a pink iridescent dragon, she would’ve squealed her eardrums out. I mean, what could be better than a unicorn? A pink dragon, of course.
Tarra flew in a circle, probably to show off her majestic flying skills, and then landed with a dusty swoosh right in front of me. Snorting and puffing, she nudged me with her snout toward a spot where it was easier to climb. Despite being the smallest of her family, she was still massive. Her torso stood twice my height. The question now was how to get onto her back.
I took her clothes and placed them in a satchel Tarra had handed me earlier. But even as a dragon, she remained impatient, nudging me with her see-through wing toward her body.
“I know, I know. I just don’t know how to climb on you,” I said.
She fluttered her wings, almost blowing me away.
I latched onto her scales, which spread into two different patterns: the ones on her back and the ones leading toward her belly. The top scales felt harsher and sharper to the touch. Not enough to cut through skin, but pointy enough to leave an indentation. No matter how I grabbed them, my feet would slide off. The smooth soles of my boots didn’t help either. I climbed once and slid down like a penguin on a waterslide. The second time, I jabbed my feet in to get a grip, which startled Tarra, and she instinctively shook me off. The third time, I took my boots off and tried the barefoot method. I got halfway up but then slipped, and even though I tried desperately to grab onto one of her crests, I fell straight on my ass.
Finally, Tarra took pity on me and flapped her wing over my face to get my attention, extending her finger-like bones on the ground so I could climb onto her wing. I quickly put my boots back on and crawled onto the protruding parts of her wing. She then raised it at the same level as her back. I only needed to make one step to stand on her.
“You could’ve done this earlier so I didn’t have to humiliate myself like ten times,” I said, balancing myself until I found the natural spot to sit.
She gave me the side-eye and snorted. So much attitude for a dragoness.
“Yeah, well. I want to see you do it,” I said, grabbing the closest antennae crests. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
A growl followed, and I realized that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to infuriate a beast the size of a mansion, even if she seemed harmless as a human.
She raised her head, signaling that we were about to take off. As she spread her wings, I gripped the crests in front, exhaled deeply, and braced myself for the worst. Her large talons dug deep into the ground, and in one move, we were in the air.
Gusts of wind and dust invaded my face, making it impossible to open my eyes. How did dragon riders even do this? Every flutter forced me to grab on tighter. The longer we flew, the stiffer my body became at every twist and turn. Every time she dipped lower, it felt like my body was sinking into the void. And every time she soared upward, I felt like I was being thrown into the stratosphere. With each movement, I held on tighter and tighter. My arm and leg muscles were sore within minutes.
Tension built in my jaw and teeth as I gritted through every small change in the air. Toward the end of our journey, I managed to open one eye and then the other. Nothing could compare to the view from a bird’s-eye perspective. Hills upon hills of various shades of green contrasting with white mountaintops blew my mind away. Even though my eyes began to water, I couldn’t stop taking in everything in awe. The rush of excitement eased my fears, and I felt on top of the world. On a pink dragon. Maybe I was dreaming. But I didn’t need to pinch myself, as Tarra began to descend and my body immediately felt the jolt of panic.
We kept getting closer and closer as Tarra lowered herself with great precision. Better than any pilot. Except no one removed the ear-popping. The changes in pressure felt so intense I almost lost my grip. In the final stretch of the descent, I clutched Tarra’s body fully. The closer I clung to her, the safer the landing felt for me.
The landing was just as rough as I’d imagined. Several times it shook me and almost flung me off her. When we finally stopped, I realized I still had all my body parts intact. Only then did I notice the scales had gripped around my legs and butt, keeping me in place. No wonder I hadn’t flown off her at the start.
Tarra spread her wings once more and released the grippy scales. I shifted to my knees and tried to stand up, but they felt like a baby deer’s—wobbly and jelly-like. I returned to my knees and crawled off her wing. Despite my less-than-elegant dismount, I didn’t care. The ground never felt more welcoming.
As I practiced walking again, Lord Valkorian and another man approached us.
“Here is my sweet Tarra,” the man said. He was dressed in noble attire and sported a thick mustache.
Tarra purred and let the man pet her. He looked like a parental figure to her.
“Still in training?” he asked.
She nodded excitedly.
“Good. Who knows, soon you might become a commander as well,” the man said with a smile.
Tarra’s eyes sparkled as if his words were music to her ears.
“Sire, let me introduce this young lady to you,” Lord Valkorian said. “This is Elena Costin. She is a messenger of the Fates. We hope, with her help, we can achieve what we set out for.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I am Vlad II, son of Mircea.”
My jaw dropped faster than I could blink. “You’re... you’re Vlad II? I’m honored to meet you, Sir. I mean, Sire.” I bowed quickly. I couldn’t believe I stood face to face with Vlad the Impaler’s father. Petra would be so jealous.
“Are you a dweller in my lands?” Vlad II asked.
“No, I’m a time tra––”
“Sire, please excuse the interruption,” Lord Valkorian said. “We must hurry so we can garner the wisdom of the Pure. It is not clear how long they can welcome visitors. Especially unplanned ones like us.”
“True,” said Vlad II. “We have received good news of our own. My family is grateful for the support you bestowed upon us, my friend.” He patted Lord Valkorian on the shoulder.
“It was our honor to have served your father, and we wish to continue serving you once you ascend the throne of Wallachia.”
“A victory at The Time Tournament will hasten the claim. Let’s hope Sigismund will assemble another one despite what had happened,” Vlad II said.
Lord Valkorian’s gaze turned dark. “Hope is what keeps most soldiers alive.”
“Indeed. But you’d better hasten. You must not keep the Pure waiting, young lady.” He bowed and left, accompanied by his entourage of knights.
Vlad II was remembered as one of the greatest political mediators and pacifist rulers in European history. I couldn’t agree more.
By the time we reached the house, night had blended everything into one. We waited for Tarra to change into her tunic and leggings and then entered what I assumed was the village hall. Inside, we were welcomed by a sea of redheads. From dark to light tones, but all red. They all gathered to greet Tarra, and alongside her, me. I had never felt so overwhelmed with warmth from the excitement these strangers showed. Most were men, though I noticed several women as well.
“Let us pass through,” Lord Valkorian said.
The sea of redheads parted in two.
As we walked toward the room in front, everyone studied us from head to toe.
“It’s the Crimson Dragon Lord and his daughter,” someone whispered. The awe in their voice sounded like the biggest compliment .
Everyone wanted to stand next to them and bask in their presence. And by association, in mine. I’d never experienced such adoration from anyone, and I never knew how good it felt. Then their attention moved to me.
“Is it her?”
Lord Valkorian nodded.
“She is so small,” someone said.
“She’s so young,” an elderly woman remarked.
I wasn’t sure if these were meant as insults or compliments.
“She was sent here by the Fates,” a younger man whispered. “She was sent to save us all.” And everyone whoa-ed in unison.
Um, I wasn’t sure about that. For now, my mission was to stay alive.
“But what will she do?” another redhead asked.
“Let’s let our Pure decide,” Lord Valkorian said, effectively putting a stop to all the gossip.
At the end of the horde of worshipful eyes, I encountered a pair of spiteful ones. Killian. My heart skipped a beat, but my body refused to walk further. I wanted to be as far from him as humanly possible. But Lord Valkorian’s unyielding hand pushed me closer into the devil’s presence. As we aligned with one another, I felt pure hatred seeping out of him.
For a moment, I suspected he would charge at my throat and squeeze the life out of me. Instinctively, I covered my neck but continued walking. He wouldn’t dare hurt me in front of the redhead village. Or would he? I quickened my pace, and as I passed him, I felt his hateful stare bore into my nape.
The flickering candlelight drew my attention to the room and the three figures kneeling in the center. Their white hair cascaded to the floor, intertwining with one another. Like their hair, their brows and lashes resembled silk. They wore white robes that merged with their pale-as-snow features. Their nearly translucent skin revealed tiny veins, the only color in their entire complexion. These people needed some iron supplements as soon as possible.
“Who are they?” I whispered to Tarra.
“They are the Pure. They are not human nor unnatural beings, not man nor woman. They are everything and nothing. They do not eat or drink. They are the voices of the Fates. They’re living statues.”
“How can they not eat or drink?”
“Shh. You are not to speak until the Pure start.” Lord Valkorian clasped my elbow, pulled me forward, and then retreated. Left all alone in front of the living statues, I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms. I wrapped them around my waist to keep some distance from the creeps. But my ears began burning, betraying my not-so-brave state.
“We need your help, Pure Ones,” Lord Valkorian proclaimed. “The Fates have sent us a human youngling. We do not know what to do with her. Please advise us.” There was no answer.
“Step closer, child,” a voice from the crowd said.
I took another hesitant step. Now I stood mere inches from the living statues. Still, for more than five minutes, nothing happened. I attempted to look back but then reconsidered. There had to be a reason for all this. Maybe they had the answer. But up close, they looked dead. And not recently—like thousand-year-old mummies who had a wax facial recently. Then a finger moved, and I almost squealed. Was this a horror movie called The Transparent Triplets ? Because I would be the first to die. Their bony and clawed fingers might confirm it.
Then the veins in the hand of the triplet closest to me began glowing. Only it wasn’t just one color. It was a multitude of colors, from pink to blue, green, and red. What was happening? Their entire forearm glowed like a Christmas tree on steroids. Slowly, they raised their hand and grabbed me. For a fragile-looking creature, the Pure had a tight grip. To my surprise, the glowing skin transferred to me. From me, it spread across the first, second, and third triplet. The entire room glowed in a warm amber light with specks of bright colors appearing and disappearing.
And just when it couldn’t get any weirder, the Pure spoke. Except, their lips didn’t move. The sound reverberated from the walls, like some kind of reversed echo.
“You are early.”
“Well, thanks. I know that already.”
The crowd shushed me.
“Weep. Weep at the altar of time.
A tempest is brewing .
A tempest of flames.
Fire will take what belongs to fire.
Time will do the same.”
What was this? Second-grade poetry class?
As if they had heard me, they smiled. It was the weirdest thing to see statues show emotion.
“Enter the fate’s labyrinth at your own risk, for any path you choose, you will be plunged into death’s elixir,” the Pure said.
Did they mean I would die no matter what? What kind of psychic reading was this? They wouldn’t earn a dollar from me with these kinds of predictions. I already knew my chances of living and ending the time loop were close to zero. But these three just confirmed it. How could I stay alive if the Fates wanted me dead, Mel?
“Wise Pure, please let us know what we should do. Even in death, how is she to fulfill her fate?” Lord Valkorian asked.
“Her unsealed fate grants freedom. Her time has not arrived. The choice is hers. Healer.” The entire room flickered in tones of green.
“Or rider.” The green turned into red colors.
“A rider? Pfft.” Killian couldn’t help but frown.
The low tone of his voice made me shudder. I forgot the influence his voice had on me.
As if the Pure and I agreed on how annoying Killian’s remark was, they released me. I lost balance and fell on my butt. It still hurt from my earlier fall. Mercifully, Lord Valkorian helped me stand .
“If the Fates have granted you a choice, then you, little survivor, are to choose here and now,” said Lord Valkorian. “Which fateful path do you choose? That of a healer or that of a dragon rider?”
“Father, you can’t be serious. You’re letting a human make the choice?” Killian retorted.
From all the time spent with Mel, I realized she had prepared me for the path of a healer with all that herbology bogus I never cared about. And who knows, if I had arrived at my destined time, I might’ve accepted that fate. That would’ve been easy. But now, as I looked at Tarra’s eager eyes, the hidden hopefulness of Lord Valkorian, and the admiration of the redheaded villagers, I lingered on my choice.
I had already lived in the woods with Mel. I knew the gist. I knew how concoctions worked and the boredom that came with making them. I wanted something more. I wanted to stay here with Tarra, who offered friendship and adventure. I couldn’t disappoint Lord Valkorian or these people who looked at me like the answer to all their problems. It felt good to be needed. Besides, Mel said I needed to choose a path that would surprise even me. What could be more surprising than this?
And then I saw the scorching spite in Killian’s eyes, and for the first time, I wanted to prove someone wrong. I wanted to prove him wrong with every fiber of my being. If I were to die, I’d rather die as a rider than a weed gatherer.
“I know the answer,” I said, mirroring Killian’s glare back at him .
By his panicked stare, Killian figured it out as well. “This can’t be happening,” he seethed as his fists turned white.
But I didn’t care. I only said, “I choose to become a dragon rider.”