“There are four known elements in the world - Earth, Water, Fire, Air - and there is a fifth acknowledged by anyone with a bit of sense.”
“Aether,” she completed, surprising the Elf. Normal people didn’t go around talking about Aether. Before they’d known she had no magics, though, her parents had instructed her well; after, she’d educated herself by sneaking books out of their library when she could.
“Very good. Aether, most know about. But there’s also Shadow.”
She frowned.
“Think of it as a conscious negative energy. The four basic elements are neutral, and Aether is positive. Shadow thrives when the world is in despair - war, violence feeds it. And just like there are some individuals infused with Aether, Shadow penetrates certain people.”
That was rather creepy.
“So, you’re saying that this Elf was an agent of evil?”
“Precisely. Anyway, I walked into a trap and I’ve lived in the Shadow Realm since.”
Xandrie’s expression said it all: she had no clue what he was talking about.
“He means he’s half dead.” That made even less sense.
“Our ever cheerful friend here happens to be a child of Aether. He can navigate the Shadow world. He brought me back; as long as I’m with him, I can walk on Eartia.”
“So, you’re on some sort of a quest to stop the Shadows, right?”
Turin nodded.
Fascinating. Xandrie picked her jaw up, and said the first thing that came to mind.
“How can I help?”
Both Elves looked amused, which could have offended her, if she didn’t know just how useless she was - her parents had said that much to her face. Repetitively.
“I don’t think I can make a huge difference, but my sister is a powerful mage-I can ask her to create potions for you. I can also buy some supplies; food, maybe?”
The Elves exchanged a glance.
“What’s your name, little girl?”
“Alexandria.” The grand name wasn’t quite her though, so she amended, “Xandrie, really. I go by Xandrie.”
“Alexandria, you’re generous and stronger than one may think at first. You’ll go with our thanks-but we cannot delay our journey further.”
Oh. She didn’t think they’d stay very long in a forest, next to a village situated right at the opposite of the most exciting point in the world, so she hid her disappointment.
“We’ll meet again.”
Argon watched the child go with a frown. Two days, they stayed in these parts, just in order to observe her.
She could have been an Elf - the way she moved in the wilderness, with grace and respect, wasn’t typical of her race.
“We’ve taken a huge risk with this child,” he told his companion.
Turin smirked, shaking his head.
“This is no child, and we did what had to be done. We may have need of her in the future.”
He sighed, conceding the point.
“She’ll be of little use to us in the Northern Var, so far from where she belongs.”
Another truth.
“Come on, Argon. You know what you need to do.”
He did. Closing his eyes, he calmed down and felt the world around him, letting the Aether infuse his body and soul.
There she was. Red and magnificent. Eight hundred miles south. The dragon he sought was a day away. He whispered words in a long forgotten tongue until she changed the course of her journey, heading to toward them instead.
“It is done.”
Little Alexandria, the first Dragon Rider he’d encountered in his life, would soon meet her fate.
Death
The cries that ricocheted off the castle walls weren’t the normal blood-curdling, curse-laden sounds of a woman bringing a new dragonling into the world. No, those birthing howls were generally followed by a blissful hush, some manly back-slapping, and the Order of the Guard’s clarion cry from the rooftops, alerting the entire Kingdom of a new arrival.
The screams that had brought the King from his private chambers, were those of a grieving father. Rhey Vasili ruled a Kingdom of great wealth and beauty, which, at its heart, had a profound tragedy: mothers were dying in childbirth.
Rhey powered his way through the Hospital. He pushed past the nurses, batted away the doctors, and threw open the delivery room doors.
The scene could not have been more devastating. A man – the one raising the roof with his guttural groans – had thrown himself across the woman lying on the gurney. The way he clutched at her, begging her to return, said he was the husband and father. The woman lay curled and still, her arm hanging to one side, the sheets around her drenched in blood.
A great beauty with amber skin and emerald eyes stood at the foot of the bed, the newborn dragonling in her arms. Her eyes told Rhey she was beyond sad, beyond pissed, and beyond fed up with the entire situation. “Again, Rhey.” Her voice was devoid of any emotion. She’d shut herself off to be able to bear the pain. “It has happened again. She was a good woman, decent and kind; excited to bring a new life into the world and now…now she’s...nothing.”
Rhey gently took the dragonling from his friend’s arms. The tiny creature squirmed and blinked, oblivious to the fact that his mother lay dead not ten feet away. Rhey kissed his forehead, and handed him to a nurse. He put his arm around Princess Demelza, but she wasn’t in a state to accept any form of comfort. She wouldn’t be for days, or months.
If he had the heart, he would order her to stop attending to these births, but he couldn’t. As a noble blood female, blessing the newborns of those sworn to her house was her duty, and her privilege. Kings had no business in these matters. He also knew that while Demelza was barely holding her rage, her calm, regal presence was making everyone else - nurses, doctors, mages, and guards - keep it together.
Rhey did the one thing he could do to ease her burden.
“Go, fly. I’ll stay in your stead. The grief won’t leave you, but the air under your wings will at least cool your humors.”
Demelza briefly kissed his hand, and left the delivery room without a backward glance.
She was right to be enraged. One in two women died in childbirth, leaving scores of orphans and devastated husbands. It hadn’t always been that way, according to the tales. Rhey had only walked Earthia for two centuries, but it was said that in the old days, women brought their dragonlings to term without incident. Something had changed, though no one knew what that might be.
“If the damned Elders prioritized this problem, instead of spending their time meddling in my affairs, we might find a solution to this catastrophe.”
If the nurses were listening, they didn’t let on. Everyone knew the King wasn’t happy that the Elders had declared The Claiming would be held at the next full moon, but there was nothing they could do to change how the King’s mate was to be chosen, so they went about their work, pretending they hadn’t heard a thing.