Chapter 17 #2
“Kinsley, your parents were both alive when Marmariatta returned to the ice. Your grandparents still live. Their grandparents still live.” Pascal offered the obsidian dagger to me hilt first. “Your mother and father have both seen this blade, and without a doubt, know it for what it is. They were not, so you know, a mated couple then. They were young little hatchlings who liked to play about at their ancient grandfather’s feet while he told them stories.
Not together, mind you. He checked on all the children of his many children, as did his mate.
Krikolios would have approved of them pairing, I think.
He certainly would have delighted in you, who takes so much after him. ”
“Can you show me a picture? I mean, I’ve seen him. I can tell you if I’m similar.”
I doubted I would ever forget Krikolios.
Jorge pulled out his phone and showed it to me. “I didn’t think about the primitives, Pascal.”
“Neither had I. Krikolios was the first and the last, so why would one show up now?”
“The perfect storm of genetics,” I muttered.
Both dragons glared at me. Rather than say a word, Jorge showed me the screen. Judging from Pascal’s legs in the background, I didn’t even come up knee high to him.
Sure enough, while I lacked the extra pair of legs, I also resembled a squat demon pony, the lovechild of an alligator and a horse.
“We’re similar, but he had six legs instead of four.
” I considered my scales, which were almost the match of Krikolios’s except I had purple on my ears, snout, tail, legs, and wings which were tipped in metallic hues.
Everywhere else shared his iridescence. I pointed at the purple with the metallic tips.
“That’s different from him, but the iridescence is the same.
” Then, because the thought of an alligator and a horse getting together and having babies amused me, I asked, “What do you get when an alligator takes out a horse for a good time rather than a meal?”
“You, apparently,” Pascal replied, and he snickered at my question. “That explains that, though. She’s a primitive rather than a modern. It also explains the other oddities.”
“Other oddities?” I asked.
“You couldn’t feel me work my magic. Primitives use magic differently than modern dragons do.
Your mother is more closely aligned with primitive magic, but she felt before she heard.
You aren’t hearing or feeling yet, and that sets you apart.
Primitives don’t have to; they can simply will their magic to life.
But they usually hear before they feel.”
“Krikolios mentioned that. He was trying to teach me how to shift on my own.”
Jorge’s smile carried with it the weight of an old grief.
“I had heard stories of such things being a joy in his life. And don’t feel too badly about your parents not wanting to discuss your nature with you and pressing for self-discovery.
To us, Krikolios is a legend bordering on a myth.
To them, he was a cherished grandfatherly figure.
None of the hatchlings from that era understood when Krikolios returned to the ice, following after his mate.
They understand better now. But they would not want you to feel you must live to his legacy.
They would want you to make your own choices.
But yes, some of the dragons even older than your parents might recognize your conformation for what it is.
I freely admit I didn’t until you mentioned Krikolios. Then it seemed obvious.”
“She’s clearly a modern dragon. She actually has a birth certificate.
There’s no reason to think about primitive genes.
But yes, I’m the same.” Pascal turned back to the casket, cracked his knuckles, and went to work.
Jewels and valuables went into one pile with little care for registering or taking pictures.
“We need to remove the bones first. I will inform them you have items of value and that I verified that the deceased wished you to have them. I’ll just neglect to mention what sort of valuables. ”
Rather than a tooth or bone, Pascal located one of Krikolios’s curved talons, which was the length of his forearm and gleamed as though it wasn’t millions of years old. For a long moment, the black dragon stared at it. “My claws are half this size.”
Jorge came over to investigate the claw. “I almost pity Madam Merorie, seeing this. She must have scoured to the very ends of the Earth to find this. Then to find that not even millions of years could accomplish the wish of her heart? How utterly tragic.”
“Krikolios said his bones could give power but not even his bones could bring back the dead,” I muttered.
“I see you asked.” The gold dragon shuddered and began helping Pascal empty the casket.
Within a few more moments, he pulled out one of the ancient dragon’s teeth, one of his large incisors, which was larger than his hand.
“I find myself relieved that he had company when the ice took him. Death was a lonely prospect for the primitive dragons. They always tried to return to the ice, and if they could not, those left behind took them to the ice, lowering their body from the air so they were not caught in the magic of their passing. On reputation alone, I would have viewed you as worthy of the honor.”
The claw and tooth went onto a pristine towel together, and the pair returned to their work, piling out the other grave goods while searching for Krikolios’s remains.
In all, Madam Merorie had found fifteen of his teeth, including both primary incisors, five claws, and several large bones at the bottom, each barely fitting within the casket.
I recognized one of the bones, a little over two feet long, as the very tip of his tail.
Aware I might venture back into the past, I picked it up, trailing my finger over the tip, which proved to be razor sharp despite its age.
Somehow, I kept from cutting myself. “Are all dragon tails weapons?”
“Yours will be,” Pascal informed me. “By the time you’ve grown a bit as a hatchling, you’ll be able to cut even diamond with it.
I recommend against stabbing anyone with that unless you want them dead.
This would make an excellent ceremonial weapon for you.
There are a few smiths who do that sort of work.
It’s not uncommon for hatchlings to inherit things like an ancestor’s tail tip.
Simply tell the smith you hire it was gifted to you, it is special to you, and that you don’t want it to leave your possession during the forging process.
The smith will take measurements and make the shaft of the spear or other weapon and install it while you’re present. ”
Considering the tail tip’s weight, which wasn’t much different from a pistol, I could see being able to use it as part of a spear or other weapon. “But who will teach me to use it?”
“I recommend your father. He’s quite adept at most weapons.
I’m sure he’d enjoy teaching you more ways to defend yourself.
Your mother’s excellent with swords and daggers, so I’d go to her for lessons on how to use your obsidian blade.
” The black dragon grinned at me. “They’re old, Kinsley, and they’ve had plenty of time to learn various combat arts.
They’ve endured more wars than I’ve had birthdays. ”
I had my doubts about that. “Wars aren’t that common, are they?”
“They are when you’re well over ten thousand years old and clans would engage in numerous wars a year during early humanity. Try not to worry about it. When you’re ready for the answers, ask your questions. They’ll likely humor you.”
I placed the tail tip on one of the sheets, which was laid out over a piece of plastic to keep the grass from damaging anything. “What do you think the long bones are?”
“His finger or toe bones. Those are reinforced, often with metals or minerals, to survive being used in combat and hunting. The rest of his bones, skull included, would have deteriorated in the ice, leaving behind only this. I suspect a human discovered the remains and sold them on some black market. Most dragons would have interred the bones somewhere, including the catacombs below your new property. Those catacombs are ancient enough that you might want to ask your parents who was buried there and why. They might know. I wasn’t in this area before Dragon Heights was founded, but they certainly were. ”
That made sense with the understanding Krikolios had perished in what we knew to be Montana. “I see my parents are sneaky and prone to fibbing.”
Pascal shrugged. “They have had to do that since the rise of mankind. Mankind has always been a little strange when it comes to their beliefs, and they liked doing things like kill dragons so they could drink their blood, grind their bones to make curative breads, and so on.”
“Like the Jack and the Beanstalk stories?”
“You want to answer this one, Jorge? This is more up your alley.”
The gold dragon paused in his work, which involved separating the jewelry into obvious sets to be registered as evidence.
“Sure. Kinsley, the humans ground and ate the bones hoping to gain the secrets of immortality. Had they possessed a little more common sense, they would have realized they can’t become immortal through killing someone clearly not immortal and eating their bones. In bread format.”
A morbid curiosity grew, and unable to resist, I asked, “But do dragon bones turn into tasty bread?”
“No,” both dragons snapped.
I burst into laughter. “All right. Here’s the question of the hour: why would Madam Merorie hide Krikolios’s bones here? Why not put them somewhere accessible?”