FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter One

The road that ran through my lands never seemed so long until I had to walk it. Though Amaleen had neutralized the worst of the poison and saved my life, the wretched stuff still flowed through my veins. It would be days at least before I had recovered my strength. Much as I wished to ferry Amaleen back to Sigil Stones as swiftly as possible, she forbade me to fly. It was just as well. I barely had the strength to walk, much less to carry myself upon my wings. Yet we could not linger among the burnt out shells of carriages and ruined corpses of our enemies. Thus was I forced to walk the road I had so long ago claimed as my own.

War. My thoughts were heavily laden with fearful and unpleasant prospects. Aran'alia was going to war. I was going to war. These men, these soldiers from Illandra, they greatly outnumbered the people of Aran'alia. If my homeland was to have a chance to win this war, they were going to do it with cunning and superior tactics. And they were going to have to rely heavily on a dragon. Perhaps even a number of dragons. I glanced at Korvarak as I shuffled along the road. I wondered if he would join me in this battle or decide he had warred enough with men.

Somehow, I did not think Korvarak would fly off in disgrace. These were his lands, too. Aran'alia was every bit as much his home as it was mine. For that matter, it was Kylaryn's home now as well. She would likely be eager to slay some of the same men who had once driven our old clan apart. The same men who had slain her parents. There was a hint of terrible, bitter irony in the fact that in avenging her own family she would be protecting a different group of humans. I would have to be sure and remind her she was in fact protecting Amaleen.

Amaleen. The woman who saved our son. The woman who saved me. The woman I loved. The woman I would give anything for, even my life. These were her lands. Her home. So long as we both drew breath I would be damned if I'd let any greedy army take her very home from her.

"I won't let them take it from you," I murmured aloud.

Amaleen walked closely at my side, her hand a steadying presence upon my neck. She glanced up at me, concern etched lines upon her sun-kissed skin. Faintly curled raven locks framed her slightly sharp features and gently bronzed skin. Her blue eyes shone with worry. "Not now, Val," she said, rubbing my neck.

"You should have told me how bad it had gotten." I flexed my wings a little, groaning to myself. Every part of my body ached. "I could have put fire to this concern of yours ages ago."

Amaleen chuckled to herself just a little, but then repeated her previous admonishment. "Not now, Val. My only concern right now is you. How are you feeling?"

"Like I tumbled all the way down the tallest mountain in all the world," I said, grunting at the effort it took just to keep my aching body moving. "And the whole damn thing fell on me."

Amaleen allowed herself a little smile. "Do you want to rest?"

I considered it for a moment. I felt as though I'd be trudging through thick mud for ages. Each limb seemed to be in a competition with the others to see which could burn and throb the worst. Surely by now we had traveled a number of miles. Granted, I was unused to walking a great distance on foot, but it certainly seemed as though we'd covered a lot of ground even if I'd spent most of it staring at the road beneath my paws. I looked back the way we'd come, wondering if I'd still be able to see the remnants of the battle in the distance. Much to my dismay I realized I could have thrown a rock further than we'd already traveled. One of the lingering Aran'alian soldiers spotted me looking back and gave me a wave.

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath. "No, I do not wish a rest. I wish to be back in Sigil Stones."

I forced myself to walk a little faster. Each step I took I felt as though I were struggling to pull my paws out of quicksand. After a few such paces I wobbled upon my paws. Korvarak, walking nearby, quickly hurried to my side to let me lean against him. I was grateful for the support, though I worried for his own injury. I snuck a glance down at his bandaged paw, and saw that the gauze was already stained red with fresh blood. I leaned against the younger green dragon until I'd caught my breath, and then started forward again.

"You should fly, Korvarak," I said, glancing at him with my ears pinned back. "You should not be putting weight on that paw."

"No, he shouldn't be," Amaleen said, her hands on her hips a moment. It seemed I wasn't the only one ignoring Amaleen's advice.

"It's not so bad," Korvarak said, though the pain etched across the pebbly green scales of his muzzle and face made it out to be an obvious lie. After Amaleen and I both glared at him a moment, he relented. "Alright, so maybe it is. But it's not as bad as Valyrym." Then he fixed his gaze on Amaleen. "And if he starts to fall, would you rather be the one to try and catch him?"

Knowing Amaleen, she probably would. "Your paw can heal later, Korvarak."

Korvarak smirked at me. "That's what I thought."

"Don't act smug," I muttered, focusing my efforts on each step.

"I'm not smug at all," Korvarak said, his voice practically oozing that very smugness. "I'm just glad to be able to help an ailing old dragon who just can't get around the way he used to any more."

"Damn arrogant upstarts," I said, but I gave him a little grin, anyway. Still, there was something else on my mind. "What were you doing out here, anyway? I hardly ever see you this far out of the mountains."

Korvarak shot me a wicked grin, his spiky crests all flared up. "I was going to mount your sister!"

I growled at him. "If I were not so weak right now, I would bite you on the nose."

Korvarak only laughed. "But you are weak right now." He idly scratched at his neck with a wing-talon as he limped along, trying to avoid putting weight on his injured paw. "Come to think of it, you're in no state to defend much of anything." Korvarak leaned onto his good paw, and gestured with the bandaged one. "I hereby claim this road and all who travel upon it in the name of the The Dark Forest!"

I hissed at him. "You shall do no such thing! This road is - Dark Forest?" I pulled my head back a little bit, blinking.

"Yes! The Dark Forest. You get an intimidating name, why don't I?"

I only glared at him a moment, and then started to laugh.

"What?" Korvarak tilted his head. "You don't like it?"

"No," I snorted. "I do not."

"And why not?" Korvarak asked, swishing his spiked tail towards my own.

"Because it sounds foolish." I weakly gestured with my own paw. "The Dread Sky is an excellent human-given moniker. It not only fits my appearance, but it sounds quite fearful as well. The Dark Forest sounds like a place children sneak off to and play silly games in."

"I rather liked it," Korvarak said, sulking a little.

"Do you often invite the local village's children out to this forest of yours, and tell them fairy tales and give them cocoa to sip?"

Korvarak gave a growl, lashing his tail at the road. "Well what would you call me, hmm? I would like the sort of memorable name that my enemies dread and my allies rejoice in."

"I don't know," I muttered. "Anything's better than the Dark Forest."

Amaleen, walking up between us, looked Korvarak over. "Well, you're pretty green."

I grinned at the two of them. "Perhaps we should call him, Green The Runty."

"I am not runty," Korvarak said, snapping his jaws. He thumped his tail against the dirt of the road for emphasis.

"No, you're certainly not," Amaleen said, smoothing his feelings. "I have a good name for you, I think. If you'd like to hear it."

"As long as it's better than the names Valyrym would give me," Korvarak said, still sulking a little.

"It's leagues better than anything Valyrym could think up," Amaleen promised. I snorted, tossing my head. I doubted that.

"What is it?" Korvarak asked, lifting his head.

"I think I would call you The Emerald Fire," Amaleen said with a little smile.

"Oooh, I like that," Korvarak purred.

Damn it, so did I. Amaleen was right. That was a good name for Korvarak.

"Well, Emerald Fire," I said. Using his new nickname was as close to acknowledging my approval for it as I was going to get. "What were you really doing out here? If you were only going to visit Narymiryn I doubt you'd have been following my road."

"You mean my road," Korvarak smiled. "Now that I've claimed it in the name of The Emerald Fire. I wonder what else of yours I could conquer? Perhaps I shall go and visit your home, and see if I can find any treasures I take a liking to. In fact, I think I'll just take your whole cavern. You can have that small one I used to live in."

"Korvarak, as soon as I feel better, I'm going to kick your scaly ass."

My green scaled friend only grinned at me. "Anytime you want, Elder. I'm nearly as big as you are now, and I'm twice as fast. Nary thinks I could take you!"

"Nary has a big mouth," I muttered under my breath. "And don't call me Elder. Besides, I can take you both on any time." I winced as my back suddenly ached terribly for a few moments. Pain ran through my belly next, and I wobbled on my paws a little. My lungs seized up for a few heartbeats, and I started to slump to the side. Amaleen was out of the way in an instant and Korvarak was pressed against me just as swiftly.

"Lean against me a moment," he said softly.

With a sigh, I did just that. "Anytime...other than right now," I said, amending myself with a sheepish smile as I leaned against him till I'd caught my balance.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Korvarak murmured, putting as much weight as he could on his uninjured front leg.

When I was ready to walk again, I nuzzled Korvarak's neck in a simple draconic gesture of thanks. He moved aside and I began to make my way down the road again. It wasn't long before Amaleen walked around the other side of me. That way she could walk with her hand upon my neck, and any time I needed support Korvarak could be right there for me.

"So why were you really out here?" I asked, looking at Korvarak a moment.

This time Korvarak relented and spoke the truth. "To see for myself what was going on. I've been trying to spend a little more time in my villages lately. Helping them out again, and just getting to know the people there. After you visited with Valar, I decided if I ever had a hatchling of my own, I want him to be friends with all the humans in my lands. So, I thought the best way to start is to renew my own ties with them. Anyway, I'd been hearing rumors flying around town about things going on. Some of them said they'd heard from travelers that the borders between Aran'alia and the other realms had been closed. Others claimed there was an army of men massing at the far edges of the lands. And the flow of trade and travelers to my villages had been squeezed down to a trickle. I thought I'd best come see what was going on with my own eyes."

"And you found a contingent of soldiers on my road," I summed up for him.

"Basically, yes." Korvarak licked his nose. "I stopped by your home first, and saw your note to Kylaryn."

"Oh," I murmured. Poor Kylaryn. She must have turned around and taken to her wings the moment she saw the note. "He's doing alright, now. Valar, I mean."

"I know," Korvarak said. "I stopped in Sigil Stones first. I found Kylaryn and talked to her a little, played with Valar a bit. Poor little whelp."

"You...talked to Kylaryn?" I gulped. I wondered just how bad she'd made me sound as a father.

"Yes," Korvarak flexed his wings, then smiled at me. "I talked to Valar, too. It's not your fault, Valyrym. Whatever Kylaryn thinks, and I think she's coming around a little, you didn't fire those bolts."

I grunted and hung my head a moment. Though I was glad he did not seem to blame me the way Kylaryn did, that did not make me feel much better. "Valar. He might...I mean...his wing." I didn't really know how to tell my friend that Valar might not ever fly. "He...he might not..."

"I know, Val," Korvarak said softly. He moved a little closer, and nuzzled my cheek in a show of draconic comfort, and solidarity. "You'll be there for him, though. So will Kylaryn, and Narymiryn and so will I. Even Voskalar will be there for Valar."

I smiled at my friend a moment. It was a wonderful sentiment to think that all the dragons I knew would be there for my son as well. Then I blinked, narrowing my eyes. "Who the hell is Voskalar?"

Another smug grin spread over Korvarak's face. "He's my beta! My subordinate. Just like I was once your subordinate."

"I don't recall letting you off that particular hook," I said, giving him my own smirk. "Though I do find it amusing you seem to continue to style your life completely after my own."

Korvarak blinked, and a tint of crimson embarrassment reddened the inside of his ears, and the area around his nostrils. He glanced away. "It's not like that!"

I found myself smiling, and strangely proud. The little runt looked up to me. Truth be told, he was hardly a runt any more. Though I might still best him in a fight, it would not be like our first scrap. Back then, his claws and teeth had barely even been able to scratch my scales. Now, his fangs and talons would cut every bit as deeply as mine. He was nearly as big as me, too, and clearly just as much a match for a large group of human soldiers. He'd even taken to defending the other peoples of this land, and given younger dragons a chance to find their own place here.

I moved a little closer, and nipped at his neck, then butted my horned head playfully against his own. "I'm proud of you Korvarak."

"Yeah, yeah," Korvarak smiled happily, then tried to cover it up. It seemed he was taking to my tendency to use sarcasm to cover up his feelings as well. "Don't go getting all unsheathed thinking about me, now."

"The way I hear Narymiryn tell it, you're the one who gets unsheathed thinking about me."

Korvarak gave a loud gasp. It seemed that hit a little too close to home for his liking. "She told you that?" He stammered a little. "She...she was lying! Making me look bad."

I burst out laughing, shaking my horned head. I was feeling a little better already. "No, my friend, she did not tell me that. But I think you just did!"

"I...I...damn it," Korvarak hissed under his breath.

"I guess you really do want to compare plows, eh Korvarak?" I smirked at him, flicking my tail tip.

Korvarak just glared at me. "Oh, shut up."

"Plows?" Amaleen giggled at my side, rubbing my neck. "You dragons call them your plows?"

"Not really," I explained. "It's an inside joke that started a while back, before Valar was hurt. But it does seem Korvarak likes other males."

Korvarak muttered something incomprehensible and likely quite insulting under his breath.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Amaleen said.

Korvarak jerked his head around to glare at her. "Hey! Just cause you're Val's lover doesn't mean you get to insult me, too!"

"Don't be so sure, Korvarak," I said with a grin. "I think that gives her the right to do pretty much anything I do."

Amaleen smiled, and walked around to stand in front of Korvarak. He came to a stop, and she gently put her hand upon his nose. She rubbed his nostrils a little, and soon the younger green dragon was struggling to contain his own rumbling purr. It didn't work.

"Aww, I'm sorry, Emerald Fire." She stroked his muzzle a little higher. "I didn't mean to insult you." She quickly smirked at me. "I half thought Val liked other males, too."

"What?!" I jerked my head back, my neck curling into an S as I glared down at Amaleen. "Why the hell would you think that?"

Amaleen shrugged and kept petting Korva's snout. "Didn't seem like there was much you dragons wouldn't have sex with, given the chance. How many humans have the two of you....what did you call it? ...Share pleasure? How many humans have you two shared pleasure with over the years?"

"Female humans," I reminded her.

"Still. I should think crossing a species barrier like that was a far bigger step than the gender barrier among your own species."

"And I should think you'll be sleeping alone tonight if you keep that up," I muttered and started walking again.

"Hitting a little too close to home, am I?" Amaleen smiled, patted Korva's nose, and began to follow me. "That's alright. I have a nice soft bed inside my house. I don't need to lay against some rough, scaly old dragon."

Korvarak was soon limping after her. "...You two really do fit each other quite well."

I glanced back at Korvarak with a grin. "We do, don't we."

I wrapped my tail gently around Amaleen, using it to hug her for a moment. She stroked the scales of my tail, glad I was mindful of my spines. When I released her from its serpentine embrace, she made her way up alongside me and put her hand atop my neck again as we walked. After a few minutes of easy silence, I took another look back to see how far we'd come. To my pleasant surprise, I'd walked quite a distance since my last disappointing survey of the area.

"Must they follow us like that?" I asked Amaleen, flicking my tail towards a group of armored men, trailing behind us in a sort of reverse-V formation.

"Yes," Amaleen said firmly. "They must." She waved towards the rolling green hills not far from the road, and the vast, thick emerald forest that bordered the thoroughfare in some places. "If there's anyone else from Illandra hiding out there waiting to ambush us, I want to make sure we come out of it alive." Before I could open my mouth to assure her two dragons would be more than enough protection, she moved to put her hand on my snout and keep me quiet. "Don't you start. A dragon filled with poison who can barely walk, and a dragon hobbling along with a hole in his paw are hardly the sort of deterrent they likely think themselves to be."

I turned my attention to Korvarak, watching him limp along. He was doing all he could to avoid putting any weight on his bandaged paw, and the red stain upon the bandages had spread further than the last time I looked at it. Every few steps the pebbly scales of his snout crinkled up in a pained grimace, and now and then he hissed under his breath.

"You have a hole in your paw?"

"It's only a little hole," Korvarak muttered.

"An arrow?" I surmised.

"A sword," Amaleen said before Korvarak could lie about it any more. "Punched right through his paw, bone and all."

Now it was my turn to scrunch my muzzle up. That sounded insidiously painful. No wonder Korvarak stayed in the air most of the fight. "Will that...heal?"

"More or less," Amaleen said, glancing at Korvarak. "As long as we keep it clean and keep him from putting too much weight on it. Best I can tell, you dragons heal far better and far swifter than humans ever could. Ghost stone dust or not, I don't think any human child would have survived Valar's wounds. As soon as I get a chance, I'm going to try and splint his paw up in the hope that the bone will fuse back together properly."

"I don't want a splint," Korvarak sighed, proving that even dragons could pout. He growled in frustration. I suspected Kor and Amaleen had already had this talk while I was unconscious. Given her fear for me, I imagined Amaleen was had been in no mood to put up with such argument.

She still wasn't. "Well that's unfortunate, because you're getting one. I don't want you to end up limping around the rest of your life on a mangled paw."

Korvarak hung his head and mumbled something in draconic.

"What was that?" Amaleen glared at him.

"Nothing," Korvarak said, sounding like a scorned child.

"He said, Yes Mother," I translated, smirking.

"You shut it, Val. Like you're in any position to talk." He glared at me, all his spines flared up, but soon the anger had bled from his voice. He grinned again. "Guess what you get to do."

I looked back and forth between my friend and my lover a few times as I padded along. "What is he talking about?"

This time it was Korvarak's turn to cut off Amaleen. "You get to eat things three times a day that taste terrible. And you don't have a choice."

Gods, we sounded siblings arguing about who was getting the worse punishment. It made me wonder if he'd already spent more time with Nary than I'd realized as it certainly seemed as though she'd been rubbing off on him.

What's that Alia? You don't think she was rubbing off on him? Oh, you just think Nary was rubbing Korvarak off? Yes, I'm so glad you could put that image in my head. I don't care if Val Junior likes that image, Val Junior isn't related to her.

I glared down at Amaleen, folding my ears back. "What's this about eating terrible things?"

"To help flush the toxins from your system," Amaleen said, stroking one of my ears. "I've quelled the worst of the poison's effects on your body, but it's still inside you. It's not yet completely neutralized. Once we get home, I can give you a lot more to eat that will help to fully suppress the poison and help you flush it from body."

I grumbled a bit, but did not argue.

Amaleen raised her voice a little. "And then, you both get to start eating terrible tasting things every day. So get used to it."

"What?" Korvarak jerked his head up in surprise, flaring his crests out again. "Why me?"

I wasn't sure which surprised me more. That Amaleen was attempting to get Korvarak do whatever she said, or that Korvarak was putting up no argument. It seemed not that long ago any dragon I knew would scoff at the notion of some human bossing him around whether it was for his own good or not. At this point in my life, I could understand my own willingness to do as I was told by Amaleen, especially when it came to my health. But Korvarak? He could have easily told her to go mount herself, taken to his wings and never looked back. Yet he stayed, and raised no real objection to her instructions. I found that both fascinating, and strangely heartwarming.

"Because," Amaleen began, moving between us to smooth down Korvarak's crests in an attempt to soothe the young dragon. "If you fight with the Illandran soldiers again, you might get hit with one of those poisoned arrows they stuck Val with. It's a very deadly poison, but, it does have an antidote, of sorts. More importantly, it's the type of toxin you can build an immunity to."

The details of a conversation I'd had with Amaleen a few days prior drifted back to me, like the faint scent of smoke on the winds. When we had talked of the workings of the silver rain in a person's blood, she'd compared it to accumulating toxins slowly over time as a way to build an immunity.

I made a face, scrunching my snout. "We're going to eat poisonous herbs, aren't we."

"Mushrooms, mostly," Amaleen said with a devious grin. "We call them Bluecap. That seemed to be the basis for the poison on one of the arrows they hit you with. It has a fairly distinct smell."

"I don't want to eat mushrooms," Korvarak said, sounding like a petulant hatchling. "They're stinky."

I burst out laughing, grinning at him. "You sound like Valar being told to try eating more cheese."

"I like cheese," Korvarak said, smiling a little. "At least the cheese in my village."

"Perhaps we can put your mushrooms in some cheese, then."

Korvarak smirked at me. "Perhaps you can put your mushrooms under your tail."

I smirked right back at him, lifting an eye ridge. "I hear you'd love to put something under my tail."

"Oh no," Korvarak said, shaking his head. "I'm not falling for that again." He glanced away, then looked back at me with a rather wicked, fang-exposing grin of his own. "That wouldn't be my first choice anyway."

I wasn't sure if he was serious, or just trying to get a reaction out of me. I decided to ignore him either way.

Korvarak seemed to be waiting for me to do just that. "Besides, I can get Narymiryn to lift her tail for me anytime!"

"Watch how you talk about my sister," I said, snapping my jaws. Talking that way while she was around was one thing, when she could join in the fun. I felt I had to be at least a little defensive of her honor. For a moment. Until I thought of the sort of things Nary no doubt said to Korvarak behind my own back. Soon, I was smirking along with my friend. "You're probably right, though. I sometimes think that female would even lift her tail for Kylaryn!"

Korvarak laughed, flaring his wings a little. "Oh, I think she would. And I'd rather like to see that."

"That's not fair," I said, licking my nose. "I wouldn't be able to enjoy watching because she's my sister!"

"Well, that licks sheath for you, doesn't it."

Korvarak and I spent the rest of the trip bantering back and forth in that manner. Over the years I had come to like Korvarak quite a bit. After Amaleen and Kylaryn, he was probably my best friend. Given the way things had gone the last time I'd seen Kylaryn, he might end up usurping her in that role, too. It seemed a shame that it took such a terrible event for Korvarak and I to start spending more time together. I decided that even if we were at war now, I should try and chat with him more often. Or perhaps get him to spend more time with us, in Sigil Stones. He deserved to have more friends who were looking out for him.

We were too far from Sigil Stones for us to make it by foot in a single day. Granted, if I'd been healthy that might have been a different story. I doubted I was making half my usual pace. By the time night fell, I was in worse shape than ever. A day spent walking had only worsened the constant aches of my body. I was more than ready to flop down on the soft green grasses and sleep for a while. Amaleen built a fire and I curled near it, and Korvarak sat nearby.

Neither of us were in any condition to hunt, but Amaleen's men were good enough to slip off into the hills, and return with enough deer to feed two hungry dragons. Amaleen seemed happy to see I still had my appetite. About halfway through my meal she opened up a leather pouch and withdrew a bundle of herbs. They smelled bitter, and when she bade me to eat them, I found they tasted even worse. But if they would make me feel better, I wasn't going to complain.

After dinner Amaleen saw to changing Korvarak's bandage. I got my first look at his wound, a long, narrow wound across the meat of his paw that as Amaleen had said, went all the way through. He hissed, and yowled and squirmed as she cleaned it, relaxing only when she'd bandaged it up again. Even then she whapped him on the nose several times when he instinctively tried to lick it.

Amaleen gave him some herbs for the pain, and I tried to take his mind off it until they had kicked in. "So you talked with Kylaryn, and Valar. But how did you find those soldiers after that?"

Korvarak lifted his head a little, looking over at me. The question seemed to trouble him just a little. His eyes were a much paler golden hue than mine, and they flickered wetly. He took a breath, and gave out a long sigh. I wondered what troubled him about the question.

"I flew out along your road, to investigate the rumors I'd heard." He shifted a little, rolling onto his side. "About foreign soldiers blocking the border crossing and things. It wasn't long after I'd left Sigil Stones and I followed your road than I came across all those wagons and soldiers."

"An advance force," Amaleen said softly.

"I'm glad to hear you remember it is in fact, my road," I said, grinning.

Korvarak managed only a small grin. "I landed in front of them and they came to a stop. I...I intended to talk to them, first...to see what they were doing, or tell them to retreat."

"But they started firing arrows at you," I surmised.

Korvarak hesitated. "...No. I saw the symbol, painted on their wagons. The castle. I'd seen that image before. When I was in Sigil Stones, talking with Valar, one of the other healers brought a flag around. They said you'd claimed it when you went to take vengeance for your son. So, when I saw that same image on their wagons..." He trailed off for a moment. Amaleen and I both knew where he was headed, but neither of us wished to cut him off. "I knew why they were here. I...hit their first wagon with fire before many of their archers had even drawn their bows."

"I would have done the same thing," I assured him. I was not just saying that. The moment I saw that symbol, I meant to kill each and every man there.

"But what if they'd come to negotiate?" Korvarak asked, his voice taut. "What if...this war that Aran'alia is going to be fighting is partly my fault?"

"It's not," Amaleen said, assuring him. She rose from the ground and gently hugged Korvarak's neck. The gesture seemed to surprise him, but he did not pull away. "This has been a long time coming, Korvarak. There were at least fifty heavily armed men back there. That's not a diplomatic envoy, that's a war convoy. If anything, you might have spared a lot of lives already. It's possible they were coming to attack one of the smaller villages in the area. Fifty men couldn't take Sigil Stones but it could take one of the small, younger villages. Namar thinks that's likely an early move in any invasion. Hit a small village at night, occupy it, and it gives them a defensible location to base the early elements of any invasion force inside our lands. It's likely they've already done to villages closer to the border."

"Maybe," Korvarak murmured.

"She's right, Korvarak," I said. "You should be honored to be worried about such things, but you should be further honored to have slain so many wicked men intent on conquest."

It felt an odd thing to say. It was not so long ago I myself had been intent on conquest. Even stranger was hearing Amaleen talk about such tactics. Perhaps my surprise should have lasted a little longer. But in truth, it was not so unexpected to hear that they'd already discussed those sort of things in private. Those meetings with her council that always left her so drained. They were not just discussing the possibility of war, but actively considering strategies they could take, and strategies the enemy might take. I was glad to hear it. At least they were not totally unprepared, even if the actual advanced forces were catching them guard.

Come to think of it, it did seem an odd way to send in an initial force. "They're testing you," I said, convincing myself off it then and there. "They wanted to see how you'd react. How well you'd defend yourself." I gestured at Korvarak. "Perhaps they even wanted to see if you really did have a dragon defending your lands."

Korvarak gestured right back at me with a little grin. "They've got two."

I was glad to see our words had buoyed his spirit a little, but not as glad as I was to hear he intended to see this thing through to the end with me. "In that case, I should think we have passed this test, and they have failed. Perhaps they'll even reconsider their negotiation options unless they wish to lose far more men than that."

"I'm not sure these people care about how many men they lose," Amaleen said, bitterly. She walked over to me, and settled down before me, leaning against the plates of my chest. I soon encircled an arm around her waist. "But I don't think you two have any idea just how much we appreciate your help. Having you two risk your lives for us...even just listening to the soldiers who came to assist while you were unconscious, it...it means the world, it..."

I gently cut her off, nudging her cheek with my muzzle. "You needn't say it, Amaleen. But if your people must express their appreciation, I shall take it in the form of chocolate cakes and cream-filled delights that I can share with Valar. And if you must express your appreciation, I'm sure you can think of something to do for me when I'm feeling better."

Amaleen giggled softly, stroking my paw. "You dirty old dragon."

I simply smiled. We lay quietly for a while. Tired as I was, I expected sleep to find me in an instant. It did not. Amaleen fared better in that regard, but I lay awake for quite some time. My mind was filled with troubling thoughts of war, and death. Of terrible things befalling my peaceful little land. I had come to like Sigil Stones greatly, and I did not want to see it burn. There was a time when none of the six major cities in my lands held any more than fifty or so guards at most. Yet this new enemy threw fifty men at us as if just to see how long they'd survive. As if their lives were no more valuable than those of the beasts pulling their carts. Fifty men seemed a tiny drop in a very large bucket.

"Do you really think two dragons will be enough to make a difference?" Korvarak was still awake as well, and his whispered question told me he was now troubled by the same thoughts I was.

"No," I admitted. "Not enough of a difference, anyway. But we won't have two dragons defending this land, Korvarak."

Korvarak blinked at me. "We won't?"

"No," I said, smiling just a little. "We'll have five."

---

I felt little better the next day. Every inch of my body still ached, and I felt as though I'd been beaten head to tail with a hammer. Whatever progress I might have made in overcoming the effects of the toxin had been nullified by walking all day while it lingered in my veins. To hear Amaleen tell it, the Bluecap mushrooms contained a toxin that could be condensed and not easily filtered out of the blood by natural means. Usually a dragon could overcome most poisons that did not swiftly slay him. This one, I suppose, would have swiftly slain me had it not been for Amaleen's intervention.

At least we did not have as far to walk. Within a few hours of setting out in the morning, we were making our way down the smaller road that lead through the rolling, stone-studded hills that surrounded Sigil Stones. Each time the road lead us back uphill, I had to force myself just to keep moving my legs and setting my paws in front of myself. I did what I could to distract myself during the journey, mostly by speaking to Amaleen and Korvarak.

By the time we'd finally reached the gateway to Sigil Stones I felt ready to collapse. These days the portcullis in the stone wall was more heavily guarded than ever. Archers now walked along the top of the walkway spanning the outer wall. Wood framework now sprouted from the earth at key points, like an odd tree assembling itself one branch at a time. Before long those would be additional watchtowers and it seemed they could not come soon enough.

After waiting what seemed an irritatingly long period of time for them to open up the portcullis, we were admitted into town. A crowd quickly formed, eager to see how we fared. By now, I imagine word had spread of our deeds, such as they were. Between Korvarak likely rushing back here in a panic to get supplies for Amaleen and soldiers rushing out on horseback after him, I'm sure there had been quite a stir. I also knew that the cities in the area used a variety of birds to send messages swiftly, so no doubt Sigil Stones knew what had happened.

In fact, before long, I heard cries such as "Three Cheers for The Dread Sky, and his green friend!"

His green friend. That made me grin. Korvarak, for his part, seemed happy just to have a little attention directed to him. Amaleen called a few townspeople over, and told them to refer to Korvarak as the Emerald Fire, much to his delight. Soon, they were cheering us both on as we limped our way through the streets. Somehow I imagined seeing that dragons had actually been seriously injured in the defense of their town only endeared us further to the townspeople.

Amaleen had a contingent of guards keep them from getting too close to us. After all neither of us wanted to be mobbed. And really, as much as I appreciated their gratitude, I just wanted to see my son again. After that, I wanted to sleep for about a month. Korvarak seemed to soak up the praise a little more than I did, and several times I had to tell him to keep walking. If he stopped now, he'd be so surrounded by humans he'd never get free. There would be plenty of time to for him to go and bask in the glow of his own glory later.

Partway to Amaleen's home, the bald blacksmith I recognized as Namar approached Amaleen. His hand was upon the hilt of his sword, as always. He wore the same blue and black tunic I'd seen him in before. It held a golden insignia on one shoulder. Probably the uniform of his office. He was flanked by two very large men in heavy armor who were probably quite intimidating to the average human. He bowed to Amaleen, and spoke with her a little as we walked. She did her best to appraise him of the situation, and asked him to call the Council together. Then she promised to come and see them as soon as Korvarak and I were settled.

As soon as Namar and the other two had departed, I smiled a little at Amaleen. "Never ends for you, does it."

Amaleen gave me a wistful look, gently rubbing my nose. "No. It does not. I sometimes wish I was just still some simple orphan learning to treat injuries. Things were a lot simpler, then."

"But if you were, you wouldn't know me the way you do now."

"No. No I wouldn't," she said with a sigh. Then she wrapped her arms around my head, hugging me tightly. "I suppose it takes the hardest parts of life to truly appreciate the best parts."

"That sounds like something Asgir would say," I spoke with a laugh. Then I nudged her gently. "Only it makes sense when you say it." When our embrace ended, I nudged her a little more. "Go after Namar."

Amaleen blinked, confused for a moment. "Why?"

"Your people need you, Amaleen," I said gently. "You're their leader aren't you?"

"Sort of." She pursed her lips, glancing down.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm one of the members of the council that runs this city, yes. Lately, though, it seems more and more I end up being the one making the final decisions."

I chuckled to myself, flaring up my spikes a bit. "You humans. Always complicating things. If you make the decisions, you are the leader. Now go!" I tried to act gruff, but at this point Amaleen saw through my every ruse. So I sought to reassure her instead. "At this point, I could find my way through your city with my eyes closed. I shall take Korvarak to your back garden. You go and attend this city's issues. Namar's clearly been waiting on you to arrive, and you cannot put this off, Amaleen. The sooner you arrive at that council meeting, the stronger a leader you will appear. Right now..." I licked my nose, and sighed. Then I gently nudged her cheek with my muzzle. "Right now your city needs a strong leader. I know you're strong enough to lead them."

Amaleen smiled, and placed a kiss between my nostrils. She was also strong enough not to let the opinions of the common folk sway her displays off affection for me. "Thank you, Valyrym. I'll be home as soon as I can."

With that, she dashed off into the crowd, vanishing behind a wall of people. She moved swiftly enough that several of the guards assigned to protect her had trouble keeping up. The rest of the guards kept up our wall of protection, though it was more for convenience than safety. I took the lead, and began to guide Korvarak through the streets of Sigil Stones. We must have made quite the sight, two dragons limping along the cobblestone path, one looking ready to collapse at any moment and the other covered with a mottled patchwork of bandages all across his body.

"She'll be home as soon as she can," Korvarak said, his voice oozing amusement. "What an interesting way to put it."

"Shut up, Korvarak."

Korvarak did no such thing. "It sounds to me as though she's not so much your mate as she is your...wife. Isn't that the word the humans use for it?"

"That's enough out of you."

"Then again, if you're the one waiting at home, and she's the one out doing all the work." Korvarak mused out loud just to spite me. "By the human custom, doesn't that make you the wife?"

"That's a terrible stereotype of humans," I said, snapping my jaws.

"Oh, my apologies, Madam," Korvarak beamed at me.

Madam? I don't know where he'd picked that one up, but I had to admit, it was clever. Wished I'd called him that first. "I thought I told you to shut up."

Korvarak only grinned wider, till all his sharp teeth were glinting in the afternoon sunlight. "So what do you do all day while she's hard at work? Do you make her bed for her?"

"Make her bed?" I tilted my head, my ears perked in a quizzical expression.

Korvarak finally burst out laughing. "That was the only human activity I could think of."

"A shame." I shook my head, walking on with a smile. "You were on quite a roll, too. Doesn't mean I won't kick your ass as soon as I feel better."

"Wait till my paw heals, alright?"

"Why, you don't think you'll be able to fight effectively with a big wooden splint clamped to your foot?"

"Probably not," Korvarak admitted, lashing his tail, his spines clacking against the cobblestone. "Then again, I could whack you in the balls with it."

"You do, and I'll put a hole through your other paw."

We walked the rest of the way through Sigil Stones. I was a little too out of it to really appreciate all the people cheering for us, or to enjoy all the sights I'd come to relish in my time here. Truth was, I was using my banter with Korvarak to keep myself focused. I felt as though the moment I laid down I was going to be fast asleep. Still, I intended to stay awake long enough to greet Valar and Kylaryn. Finally, we turned onto Amaleen's street. Thankfully there was already a cordon set up around Amaleen's house the way there had been when I'd first arrived. I imagined that it was to prevent anyone from venturing into her backyard and getting eaten by Kylaryn.

At the side of Amaleen's house, I paused to drink my fill of the cool silver water filling one of her barrels. Korvarak did the same from another barrel. When we were both quenched, I made my way around the back of the house. As I did so, my heart sped up, pounding heavily in my chest. I hadn't seen Kylaryn since the day she returned. I hoped she wasn't still furious with me. I hadn't seen Valar since then, either, and I suddenly missed him terribly. I cleared my throat, ready to call out to my son. I knew Kylaryn would ensure he didn't come bounding towards me at full speed and rip out his stitches.

When I rounded my way into the backyard, I decided to hold my tongue. Valar was fast asleep in a patch of sunlight near his little corner. All three of his blankets were spread out across the soft grass, warmed by the sun. His little black and blue marked form was wrapped in fresh bandages, and an empty wooden bowl sat nearby. Rorgie rested on one corner of the blankets, and Squigg at another. The wooden dragon I'd brought back for him occupied yet another area. From the looks of things, he'd been playing "Claim The Blankets" with his favorite toys, and was now taking a nap after his afternoon dose of herbs and apples.

Kylaryn was curled lightly around him, her own blue scaled body very slowly rising and falling. If it were not for the smaller size of the hatchling's lungs compared to those of his mother, their breathing would have been perfectly in time. In the sunlight, Kylaryn's blue colors shone radiantly, and Valar's own blue patches looked brighter than ever. That was excellent to see. His health was clearly still improving. For a few moments I simply stood at the far side of the garden from them, watching my son and his mother sleep.

Korvarak bumped me with his snout, then waved a paw towards my family. "Go on then."

I gave him a little smile, and finally limped the last few paces back to my son. Gingerly and quietly as I could, I settled down against the grass and the blankets on the other side of him from Kylaryn. It felt like years had passed since the last time I'd slept that way, with Valar snuggled between Kylaryn and I. Valar was a sound sleeper, especially after his pain killing herbs. I knew I'd not rouse him from his nap as I curled against him.

Kylaryn though, slept much more lightly. She always had since she'd lost her parents to humans. It was a protective instinct, I think, she'd let no one near her child while she slept. It was an instinct I wished so deeply that I shared. If I'd woken when Valar slipped from my arms that terrible night, his future flight would still be assured.

Kylaryn slowly lifted her head, and our eyes met. For long moments, her silver gaze remained locked with my own. Her eyes remained as enigmatic to me as ever. There was pain there, but there was also hope, and fear. Without a word, she slowly moved her head forward until she gently pressed her warm blue nose against mine. We stayed that way for long moments, silently gazing into each other's eyes.

"Please, Valyrym," Kylaryn said, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't die."

And that was all she said. She pulled her head back, gave me a brief but sincere smile, and lay her muzzle down alongside Valar. I watched her a moment longer before I took up a similar position. I did not know what to make of her, but then again when I did I? I think that she had forgiven me now, in her own way. Korvarak must have told her what happened when he came to fetch more supplies for Amaleen. Kylaryn probably had no way of knowing if she was ever going to see me again. Perhaps that had hastened her own ability to forgive me, even if she couldn't yet bring herself to say it.

I had nothing else to say in that moment. To put words to my thoughts seemed as though it would spoil what had become a surprisingly beautiful moment. Instead, I simply made myself comfortable by curling around Valar and my oldest friend in the world. Valar shifted and murmured in his sleep, but did not rouse from his slumber. Kylaryn opened her wing, and spread it out wide, draping it over Valar and me. Beneath her wing, Kylaryn and I shared one more little smile before she closed her eyes.

I spent my last few moments of wakefulness watching my son sleep.

---

Chapter Two

"FATHER!" If Valar's gleeful cry wasn't already enough to wake me, the rest of his delighted squeals certainly would have. "FATHERFATHERFATHERFATHERFATHERFATHERFATHER!"

I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me with an adorable hatchling grin threatening to split his head completely in twain. No sooner had I opened my eyes then he flung himself against my head, hugging my face and biting at my horns. I started to laugh, and lifted my head up just a little so that his paws were just slightly off the ground. He tenaciously clung to me for a few moments before I eased him back down to the ground and pulled my head away. He was just as quick to fling himself against my chest as I sat up. Valar butted the plates of my chest with his tiny horns, purring so loudly his entire black and blue body seemed to vibrate.

"Hello, my lovely son," I said with my own purr. I hugged him against myself, happiness welling up inside me to see him so excited. I'd come so close to never seeing him again.

"Uncle Korvarak says you got hurt!" Valar peered up at me with wide eyes.

Uncle Korvarak. I chuckled to myself at that, glancing across the yard. Korvarak was curled in the nearby shade. The younger green dragon was either still slumbering or pretending to be. "Well, Korvarak is right." I lowered my head to nuzzle my son and purr into his ear.

He giggled and squirmed as if the noise tickled him, pushing my muzzle away with a paw. "Stop getting hurt, Father!"

I smiled at the simplicity of that demand. I knew Valar had no real idea of how badly "hurt" I had been. I also knew there was no need for him to know the truth of it. "I shall do my very best, my Love."

"You better," Valar growled at me playfully. "Or Imma do this!" Then he swatted me on the nose.

I yelped and yanked my head back. "Ow! No hitting, Valar. What would your mother say?"

"I'd tell him to do it again," Kylaryn said with a smirk as she lifted her own blue-scaled head from the ground. No one could have slept through Valar's happy squeals.

"Some good influence you are," I muttered, but I smiled a little as well, lifting my head high enough up that Valar couldn't reach my nose. That didn't stop him from trying. He stretched himself up with one paw on my chest, and the other hoisted up as high as he could. When that didn't work, he looked ready to try and jump straight up at my head to whap me on the nose.

"No jumping," Kylaryn said before I had a chance to do the same. She gently pressed her paw on his back to hold him in place. "Remember what we talked about? No jumping and no pouncing, and no running till the stitches come out."

Valar gave a plaintive whine. "But I never getta do nothing!"

"You get to do plenty," I assured him. "And don't act as though that's a new restriction. You didn't get to jump or run around before your mother came back, either."

"Or while your father was away," Kylaryn added.

Valar flopped onto his haunches, leaning towards his good hind leg. He twisted his head around to peer back at himself, gazing at all his bandages. "Dumb stitches." He gnashed his teeth a little, looking as though he was ready to start tearing them out by himself. Then he suddenly got an itch, flopped over onto his uninjured side, and began to frantically scratch at himself with a hind paw. "Bandages is itchy," he whined as he scratched.

"I know, I know, my love," I murmured to myself. "I have a new one too, see?" I turned myself a little to show off the new bandage affixed to my side by sticky resin where the poisoned arrow had been pulled my ribs. As much as the toxin left my body aching all over, I hardly noticed the pain from the wound itself. "It's itchy, too."

Valaranyx peered at it a moment, laying on the grass. "It's little. My bandages is bigger!"

"Yes, they are," I said in agreement. No sense arguing with a hatchling about such things. Then I gestured with my wing towards Korvarak's slumbering form, his forest green scales dotted with bandages. "Just be glad you don't have as many bandages as Uncle Korvarak."

"He's itchy!" Valar peered across the garden at Korvarak, and I found myself laughing at his statement. I knew what he meant, but it certainly sounded funny.

"He's itchy?" Kylaryn smirked at me. "I hope it's nothing he can give to Narymiryn."

I glared at her and tossed my head, then stroked Valar's neck. "Yes, I suppose he must be rather itchy. So it could be worse for you, you see."

Valar huffed as if he didn't want to admit such a thing. Then he turned his head again and peered at his wing. He pushed himself to his feet, flaring out his good wing. The other wing, bound around its base in bandages, did not open quite as far. "My wing feels funny."

I gently touched his wing and guided it back towards his body. "Don't open them like that, Valar. Not till you're fully healed."

"But it feels funny," Valar whined.

Kylaryn and I shared a worried look while Valar was distracted. Kylaryn gently stroked Valar's neck. "Your father is right. Don't open up your wings right now, alright?"

Valaranyx chose to ignore that directive, and instead began to savage my front paw. He pounced it best he could, wrapping his front legs around my foreleg then began to gnaw at my scales. "I'mma get you!"

I let him wrestle with my leg a while before I swiftly rolled over onto my back, carefully tucking my wings aside. In the process I scooped up Valar and plopped him against the black plates of my chest. He looked shocked for a moment, and then quickly claimed victory.

"I win!" He hopped a little, then winced in pain. He swatted my chest plates as though I was the one who made his wounds ache. "I said I win!"

"Yes, yes, you win," I said with a smile. "What do you demand of your defeated subject?"

"Wanna play Conqueror!"

"Alright, we'll Conqueror a little while." Just as gently as before, I lifted him back up and set him on the grass, then rolled over onto my belly. Valar quickly began to try and climb up on my back, scrabbling at my scales. I looked up at Kylaryn. "Put him on my back, will you?"

Kylaryn gave me an odd look, but moved to my side. She took Valar's neck gently in her teeth, and hoisted him up. Valar gave a cute little squeak, hanging limply from her jaws for a few moments. Once she deposited him upon my back he quickly made himself comfortable in his favorite spot, just at the base of my neck between my wings. Then he thrust his paw into the air, pointing towards the back of the garden.

"That way!"

I started walking through the garden, carefully picking my way along the trail. Kylaryn followed at my side, a little less careful about where her paws went. "So this is why he demanded I let him ride on my back," she said with a smile. "Someone's been spoiling him."

I glanced back at her, flicking my tail at her paws. "Mind the ferns and such."

"Mind the ferns?" Kylaryn raised her eye ridges at me. "What have you become, her pet?"

"She saved our son, Kylaryn, and she's put everything she has into helping him heal." I gazed back at her, not amused but not angry either. I simply meant what I said, and I wanted her to understand that. "The least we can do is be respectful of what belongs to her."

"Mind the ferns," Valar said, mimicking me in a way that likely held far more meaning to Kylaryn than he realized.

"Oh, very well," Kylaryn muttered, moving onto the trail to follow behind me. "But you'd better watch your damn tail spines while I'm behind you."

"Watch your damn tail spines!" This time Valar mimicked Kylaryn. I chose to pretend he hadn't said that, and so did his mother.

"My tail spines are nowhere near you," I said with a little smile.

"They're not that far from my face, and I don't want one embedded in my snout." She clicked her teeth. "I sometimes think you males forget you even have those spines the way you always swing your tails about."

"That's mine," Valar said, pointing a paw.

"Perhaps if you females paid more attention to the ends of our tails, and less attention to what's beneath them, you'd be less likely to get a face full of spines," I said, grinning around my side at her.

"Hah! A male who wants us to pay less attention to what hangs under his tail?" Kylaryn smirked at me. "That's new!"

"Mother," Valar said, pointing at something else. "That's mine!"

I continued down the trail, grinning. "Just trying to keep you from getting your eyes poked out."

"Mother! Look! That's mine!" Valar just kept pointing at everything we passed.

Kylaryn snapped playfully at my tail as I flicked it against the ground. "I wouldn't worry about it, Valyrym. In your case, you've too little under your tail to draw my attention anyway."

Before I could reply to that, Valar decided he was fed up with being ignored. He twisted around on my back, shouting in hatchling frustration at Kylaryn. "Mother! Mother! Mother! Mother!"

"Yes, Valar, yes, what is it?" Kylaryn peered up at him.

Valar smiled, and pointed a paw towards the vine-wrapped white trellis. "That's mine."

"Is it, then? Claiming yourself a little swath of land already?"

Valar nodded happily, waving his paw around the entire garden. "That's mine."

"I think it belongs to Amaleen, actually," I reminded him, if only because I knew he would disagree.

"But it's miiiiiiiine," he said, just as I expected. I could have mouthed the words along with him.

"Don't be greedy, Valar," I told him.

Valar huffed against my back, pointing out a new direction. I trod through the expansive garden, making my way under several low hanging boughs of the enormous old oak trees. This time, when Valar reached for one of the hand-shaped leaves, it was Kylaryn who ensured he didn't make himself sick.

"Don't eat those, Valar," she said gently, moving up alongside me to ensure he didn't snatch any of the leaves. This time I didn't tell her not to step on anything fragile, and was glad when she moved back to the trail on her own.

I took Valar by the pond, and he swiftly laid claim to all the fish once again. He pointed one of them out to his mother. "Those are smoked!"

"No, Valar," I said, grinning. "Those are still alive."

"Make them smoked!"

"We've had this conversation already. Those are Amaleen's pets."

"And your father," Kylaryn said, moving to stand next to me on the soft grass around the pond. "Is also Amaleen's pet."

I gave her a dark look and she smirked back at me. I could not yet tell if she meant that playfully, or if that was her new way of slipping her claws under my scales. "Always a mystery," I murmured to myself.

"Hmm?" Kylaryn tilted her head a little, her silver eyes gleaming.

"You're an enigma, Kylaryn, and I shall never truly understand you."

Kylaryn smiled as though she took that as a compliment. "I'm female, my friend. Males can never be expected to understand us."

I understand Amaleen. Those were the words that nearly came out of my mouth, but I held my tongue, and swallowed them back down. I think that would have hurt her deeply. I did not want to hurt Kylaryn. She'd been hurt enough over her life already, there was no need for me to add to her pain. Still, I had to talk to her alone.

Kylaryn smiled at me a moment longer, and then turned to walk back down the trail. While I watched her, she made a show of swaying her haunches at me, and hoisting her tail just enough to tease me with a peek at her sex for a second or two. I wanted to look away, but I stared. My sheath felt warm, and tingled pleasantly. I growled a little.

"Don't be a tease," I muttered, glancing down at my paws.

Kylaryn didn't know. Or did she? Had Korvarak told her about...Amaleen? About us? Kylaryn, as always, was a mystery. She might just as likely have been teasing me because she knew I was now with another, and found it amusing to tantalize me with what I used to have. Or, she might not yet know. She might be hoping she and I could fly off somewhere private for a while to mate again. It had been a while. If she had forgiven me in her own way, it wouldn't be unlike her to announce her forgiveness in such a way.

"Come along, Valar," I said as if he wasn't already riding upon me. I walked back towards Amaleen's home, glad to see that Kylaryn not only kept to the trail, but did not hoist her tail up again.

When we returned to the area where Valar's blankets lay spread out along with a number of his toys, Kylaryn gently lifted him from my back, and set him down. He quickly walked to his blankets and settled down upon them. Soon he had Squigg in one paw, and Rorgie in another, and was ramming them into each other as if they were fighting in the skies.

I watched him play for a few minutes and tried to join in his little game. I took the wooden dragon toy in my paw and bounced it across the blankets a few times. Valar giggled and peered up at me with a curious expression, his little muzzle scrunched and his ears perked.

"Why's he jump like a rabbit?"

"That's a good question," I said under my breath.

"Your father clearly doesn't know how to play," Kylaryn said, nipping my neck. Then she took the wooden toy from me, and zoomed him back and forth through the air a few times. Till Valar reached out for him, shaking his head.

"No," Valar said, giggling as though neither of us had the least idea how to properly play with his toys. "He can't fly today!"

"Why not?" I asked, swiveling my own ears forward.

"Cause his wing feels funny too," Valar said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," I licked my nose, and swallowed hard. Kylaryn and I shared another look. I wondered. Did Valar know? We couldn't avoid the subject forever. But...I was not yet ready to broach it, either. I reached towards the wooden toy, and Valar set it in my paw. "Someone else will have to carry him today then, right?"

That seemed to please Valar, and he set Rorgie down on the blankets. While Squigg was dark, Rorgie was a more bright, crimson color. "Put him on Rorgie."

I set the little wooden dragon down on Rorgie's back. He wouldn't exactly stay there on his own, but Valar was soon holding them together in his paws. "Why Rorgie?"

"Yes, why Rorgie?" Kylaryn asked as well, sounding as though she already knew the answer.

"Cause Rorgie's the best flyer!"

Kylaryn flared up her spines a little. A smirk twitched at the corners of her snout. "And how do you know that?"

"Cause Rorgie does this!" And with that, Valar hurled Rorgie right at my face. I yelped as the toy bounced off my snout. At least he hadn't thrown the wooden one, too. Valar burst into giggles, and limped over to where Rorgie landed to pick his toy back up in his jaws, and return to his place on the blankets.

I rubbed my nose and glared at Kylaryn. "You've been practicing that, haven't you."

Kylaryn simply flexed her sky blue wings in a shrug. "Not that I recall."

I turned my attention back to Valar. He was now sitting upright on his haunches, with the wooden dragon "flying" around on Rorgie's back. Given how close to home it hit, I found the scene both adorable and heartbreaking. Would that be as close to true flight as my son ever came? Would he never see the beauty of Aran'alia from his own wings? How would he travel far enough to find himself his own mate some day? I took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. Now was not the time to sit feeling sorry for him. Much as I hated to admit it, there were even more pressing concerns than that right now. Like ensuring there was in fact, an Aran'alia for him to live in when he was grown.

"Does the wooden one have a name?" I finally asked.

Valar gasped and peered up at me, his little hatchling jaw hanging completely open. It looked as though he'd never been so baffled by a question in all his life. After a moment, Kylaryn reached out and gently pushed his bottom jaw back up, smiling.

"Of course," Valar finally said as though he couldn't believe I had to ask. "It's Oodle!"

"...Oodle?" That was the strangest name yet.

No, Alia, I don't think Val Junior would appreciate your changing his name to Oodle.

Valar nodded happily, and returned to his game of having Rorgie fly Oodle around while Oodle's wing felt funny. For a few minutes I watched him play, distracted only when I heard movement and rustling nearby. I turned my head and saw that Korvarak had woken up, and was making his way deeper into Amaleen's garden to empty his bladder. I looked away again, only to realize he was standing in one of her favorite beds of ferns.

"Korvarak!" I looked back at him. "Not there!"

Too late. Korvarak gave a soft sigh, and I laughed, shaking my head. Valar glanced over as well, giggling to himself. "Oooh, Argleblarp's gonna be maaaad," he said, setting his toys down.

"Yes, well, let's not tell Argleblarp, alright? Korvarak's in enough pain already."

Valar licked his blue marked nose, realizing perhaps for the first time that Amaleen hadn't returned when I had. "Where's Argleblarp?"

"Who the bloody hell is Argleblarp?" Kylaryn asked, looking between the two of us.

"That's what he calls Amaleen," I explained, laughing and flicking my tail.

"That's not what he called her while you were away," Kylaryn said. "He called her Amaleen."

"Argleblarp's funny," Valar said. "Father says it too!"

"Only once in a while," I admitted, hanging my head a little, though I cast my son a sly grin. "Once she got tired of trying to get us to stop saying it." Then I nudged Valar gently. "Amaleen's very busy right. She has very important things to do, and she'll be back as soon as she can."

"I don't see what can be more important to her than seeing to your health, Valyrym," Kylaryn said. She sat back on her haunches, lashing her own tail against the grass. She seemed a little cross, but I couldn't tell if she was upset with me, or the fact that Amaleen wasn't here tending to my health. At least it seemed Korvarak had made it clear how serious my condition had been. "What is she doing?"

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Planning a war."

Kylaryn slowly pulled her head back, her silver eyes going wide. Her slender spines all flared up around her head. "Wh...What?"

"What's a war?" Valar asked, peering up at both of us.

"Nothing hatchlings need to know about," Kylaryn said quickly. I wasn't sure I agreed, but now was neither the time to argue with Kylaryn, or to explain to Valar what a war was.

"Aw, I never getta know nothing!" Valar huffed and thumped his little tail.

"Valar..." I said gently. "How would you like to play with Uncle Korvarak for a while?"

"Okay," Valar said. "Can he play Conqueror?"

"I'm sure he can," I said, smiling. I lowered my head, and took Valar's neck as gently as I could in my jaws. As I lifted him up, he waved his paw towards his toys. "Squiggy!"

Kylaryn picked up Squigg, and held it out to him. Just as I clutched Valar lovingly in my jaws, so too did Valar soon close his own mouth around Squigg. I carried my son and his favorite toy over to Korvarak, who was getting a drink from the water barrels. He looked up at me and smiled a bit, his pale eyes still looked bleary. I set Valar down and licked my nose.

"Could you watch Valar for while?" I glanced back the way I'd come to where Kylaryn was waiting for me. "I need to talk to Kylaryn." I licked my nose nervously. "Alone."

"Ah," Korvarak said, nodding his black horned head. "Yes, I can watch the little runt."

"Don't call me runt!" Valar glared up at Korvarak, and a moment later launched Squigg through the air at Korvarak's face. The green dragon yelped and yanked his head back, shaking it. Then he gave Valar a sheepish grin. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. So is there a game you'd like to play, Not Runt?"

Valar tilted his head, flaring his tiny spines as though he wasn't sure if that was an insult or not. Finally, he gave a happily chirped answer. "Conqueror!"

Korvarak scrunched his snout, lowering his eye ridges. "How do we play that?"

"Like this," I said, not planning to give him a choice. I picked Valar up and set him carefully upon Korvarak's back. "Just keep him happy a while, will you?"

Korvarak turned his head to grin as Valar got comfortable. "I can do that. Come on, Valar, let's have some fun."

"You're mine," Valar said, claiming his newest ride.

"I...what?" Korvarak sounded confused.

"You heard him, Korvarak. First I claimed you as my subordinate, now my son's doing the same."

Korvarak shot me a dirty look. I ignored it, and picked up Squigg from the ground. I dusted him off with a paw, and passed him to Valar who clutched him tightly as he settled against Korva's back.

"This is mine," Valar said, showing Squigg off to Korva.

"Yes, it is," Korva said. walking around the side of Amaleen's house. "I'll take him down towards the stream, if that's alright. Looks like the guards are still keeping people away."

"That's fine. He's probably tired of being stuck behind Amaleen's house anyway. Don't wander too close to the guards, though, he's still a little frightened of them." I watched Korvarak walk away with my son on his back for a little while before I called out to him. "Korvarak!"

"Yes?" He glanced back, lowering his wings.

"Thank you."

Korvarak bowed his head, and turned around the front of Amaleen's house. I took a deep breath, and turned upon my paws to make my way back to Kylaryn. She remained just where I'd left her. Kylaryn sat upon her haunches in the sunlight, her blue scales shone with a wonderful sapphire radiance. She had always been a beautiful female. The only blue more beautiful I could think of was in Amaleen's eyes. As I neared Kylaryn, I saw her own silver eyes shining wet with fear, and concern.

I settled on my haunches across from her, and tried to find the words. Usually this was where Kylaryn would snap at me, or insist I speak before I'd properly gathered my thoughts. Her unexpected patience was refreshing, and comforting. And yet I found myself with no words to give her. Slowly, she reached out and ever so gently laid her paw atop mine.

The little gesture was of great comfort.

I lifted my gaze, and stared into her eyes. There was fear there, a different sort than I had expected. There was also a strange sort of acceptance there.

"You know," I said softly.

"Yes," was all she said in reply.

I turned and looked at my bandage. "One arrow. One simple little poisoned arrow, and I...I almost...Valar almost lost..." For some reason, I couldn't quite get myself to say it.

"I know," Kylaryn said, her voice a soothing lullaby. She pressed her head forward until her nose was pressed against mine. Tears shone unshed in her silver eyes.

"And...Amaleen...and I..." To anyone else I would have shouted our love to the skies, their opinions be damned. But Kylaryn...despite our understanding, part of me was afraid I was going to break her heart. I didn't want to hurt her, but she had to know the truth.

"I know," she said again, even softer than before. She already knew it. I wasn't sure how, exactly. Perhaps she'd just put it all together herself.

"...I'm sorry," was all I could bring myself to say. I closed my eyes and pressed my nose back against hers.

I felt her touch against my cheek as she cupped it in her paw. She began to stroke the side of my head, and as I slowly opened my eyes again, I saw the tears she could no longer back were running down her cheeks. I soon returned her gesture, gently stroking her own blue scaled cheeks to wipe away her tears.

"I am sorry, Kylaryn," I whispered to her, my own throat growing tight, my eyes wet. "I have never in my life meant to hurt you."

"I know," Kylaryn said once more. She managed a little laugh as though it was a running joke for her now. She sniffled, and licked my nose, still caressing my pebbly scaled face. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Valyrym." She looked a moment, and lowered her head. "If anything, I am the one who has mistreated you. I...I was..." She faltered a little.

I gently took her head with my paw, guiding it towards my chest. She buried her face against my chest plates, crying softly against my scales while I stroked her neck. "It's alright, Kylaryn. It's alright." I sniffed a little myself, trying to hold it together. A few tears dribbled down my ebony scales anyway. "It's alright."

"No," Kylaryn said, nuzzling at my chest. "It isn't. I was terrible to you, because I was angry. I was angry at you and at the humans and at the world, and you bore the brunt of it unfairly. And I have tried and tried to find my brother and have come to fear he is already long gone from this life. And my son was hurt and I could not take it and it is not your fault and am I sorry I treated you so poorly and I don't want to drive you away from me..."

Kylaryn's rambling words were all that kept her from crumbling completely into sobs. I had rarely seen her cry. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen it at all since the night Valar was conceived, when she finally came back to me and told me how weary she was of being alone. I lowered my head a little to gently nuzzle her, stroking the side of her neck with a paw.

"You won't drive me away, Kylaryn," I assured her. "You are the mother of my child! I want you to be a part of his life for as long as you draw breath. Even spending every day alongside Amaleen, I would never push you from my life, Kylaryn. You are my oldest friend, and I shall always treasure our friendship..." I trailed off a little, then managed a smile. "Complicated as it may be."

That made her laugh just a little. She slowly tilted her head back, peering up at me, her silver eyes shining. I rarely saw so deep into her heart, into her soul. There was an unexpected fear there, a sort of cold loneliness she shied away from.

I am weary of being alone.

Her words rang in my head like an echoing voice. Mysterious as she was, cold as she could be, Kylaryn was not a dragon who did well with solitude. I had left our old clan of my own volition, my own desires to find a land to call my own. Kylaryn had no such desire. She'd always planned to find a mate within her clan, and stay with other dragons. The encroachment of humanity had stolen that from her, just as they had stolen her only family. Slain her parents, and driven her brother to far flung, unknown reaches if not death itself. I realized then that in the years after I found her upon my road, and before she returned that beautiful, rainy night, she had been searching. All those years she'd been searching for her brother. Searching for someone, anyone she knew from the clan after she falsely concluded that our rivalry had outweighed our friendship.

She still searched for that. I knew that unless she found her brother one way or another, she would continue that search all her life. I had found my own sister again through Kylaryn, but what had she found for herself? Yet as bad as it felt for her, she knew at least she had a family to come back to. She might not truly have loved me, but she loved Valar every bit as much as I did. And peering into her eyes that moment, I was no longer so sure she did not truly love me.

Her words earlier that day returned to me with new meaning. Please, Valyrym. Don't die.

For me it had been months since she'd left again, months since Valar had been injured. But for Kylaryn, it was months of fruitless searching until she finally gave up. Buoyed by the knowledge that when she returned home, her new family would be there, waiting for her. Then, in what for her was the span of only a few days she learned that her son nearly died. She blamed his father for his injuries only to discover days later that his father, too, had nearly died. In a matter of days, the two best parts of her life had nearly been taken from her forever.

I remembered her other words from the night Valar was conceived just as clearly. It was the same thing I'd carved upon Lenira's headstone. I nuzzled Kylaryn's ear, and spoke them to her softly. "I was always your friend, Kylaryn. And I will always be there for you, when you need me. No matter who I am with, I shall always remain your friend, and I shall always be here for you."

How I wish that was a promise I could have kept.

Kylaryn could contain herself no longer. Her soft crying turned into loud, wracking sobs. I was grateful for the tall, vine-shrouded fence that surrounded Amaleen's land. No one needed to see Kylaryn broken down this way. Right now, I would shield Kylaryn from the world itself until she was strong enough to face it once more. I slowly opened my wings, and draped them across her to hide her from the uncaring skies.

---

Chapter Three

I held Kylaryn, and let her cry against my scales as long as she needed to. I do not know how much time passed until her sobs began to fade. I kept my thoughts to myself. Though she remained in many ways as mysterious as ever, I knew her well enough to know she would take far more comfort from my simple presence and touch than she would from any thought I might be able to put words to.

We remained alone in Amaleen's backyard. I doubted Amaleen's meetings had ended yet though it was possible she had come to check on us while we all slept or while I held Kylaryn inside my wings. It was for the best. Kind-hearted as Amaleen was, she might attempt to say something soothing or apologetic to Kylaryn. I could not imagine that going well while Kylaryn was in such a state.

When most of her tears had ceased, and she eased her head back from my chest, I nuzzled her. With scales and tongue I swept up what remained of her tears, and then gently pressed my nose against her own.. "You aren't alone, Kylaryn. You have our lovely son, and so long as I draw breath, you always have me as your friend."

Kylarym smiled a little, lifting her paw to stroke my neck as she nosed me back. "Thank you, Valyrym."

"You are welcome, you lovely thing."

"Not as lovely as Amaleen though, hmm?" She smiled a little more. Now that she was collecting herself, she sounded more playful than genuinely regretful or jealous. I hoped it was not just an act.

"You are each equally lovely in your own way," I said, licking her nose.

"You're quite the smooth talker these days, Valyrym," Kylaryn said back, her voice still soft but a little more relaxed. "I can still remember the days you fumbled over your words as often as you tripped over your own clumsy paws."

"I don't do that anymore, either," I assured her.

"No, you do not."

"And I can still remember the days you used to challenge me to a fight every time you saw me." I couldn't help myself, my smile twisting into a smirk. "Even though you knew I'd win."

Kylaryn nipped at my nose, making me pull my head back. "Don't be an ass, Valyrym."

"But that is my specialty," I said, laughing.

"Indeed it is," Kylaryn again, sharing my smile. She looked away for a little while, and I could practically see her walling off her inner pain behind her eyes once more, brick by silver brick. "If the time comes, and I consider a sibling for Valaranyx, do you think Amaleen will mind if I ask you to put another egg inside me?"

"I...well...she...that is..." Kylaryn's question took me by surprise. I stumbled over my words every bit as badly as I had in my youth despite my claim to have bettered myself in that regard. She was probably just teasing me, but it was honestly something I hadn't considered.

Kylaryn smiled as innocently as she could. "I'll let her watch, if she wants."

I stared agape at Kylaryn for a moment. The things that came out of that female's mouth. "I should think I might enjoy having her watch more than she would," I said, shaking my horned head with a laugh.

"She can play with your balls, if she wants," Kylaryn said, still smiling.

"I'll be sure and run that by her," I said with a smirk of my own. Still, wasn't that just a lovely mental image. It made me a little thick in the sheath just thinking about it, and I shook my head as though the scene I pictured was but made of colored sands I could just jumble up again.

Kylaryn put her paw atop mine, her grin getting increasingly wicked. "It's alright, Valyrym. If Amaleen does not wish to share you in a few years, I shall have just Korvarak put an egg in me. He's a strong young male, after all, and your sister is much more the sharing sort."

"Korvarak?' I snapped my jaws. I might have been proud of the green bastard, but letting him sire an egg in my mate was different. Even if Kylaryn wasn't...exactly...my mate any more. It was the principal of the thing. And Kylaryn knew it, too. "That upstart?! No way in hell he could father a worthy sibling to Valar! And....wait, what was that bit about my sister?"

"Nothing," Kylaryn shrugged her wings.

"You'd better not be suggesting she'll raise her tail for just anyone," I turned my head to glare at Kylaryn through a single eye, a draconic gesture of suspicion.

"I've suggested no such thing!" Kylaryn lifted a front paw and casually licked it. "Only that she's willing to share her mate. It's certainly an option if your human girl decides to keep you all to herself."

I chuckled a little bit. As usual, I wasn't quite sure where Kylaryn had cut the line in the stone between teasing and reality. She might well just be trying to dig her claws under my scales. But she could have just as easily been seriously considering letting Korvarak put an egg in her some day. She also had a point about Nary. Much as I might try and defend her honor now and then, I was increasingly getting the feeling that my sister had become a far naughtier female than she'd ever let on.

"I'm actually rather hoping Korvarak puts an egg in Narymiryn soon," I admitted while Kylaryn was the only one around to hear it. "Perhaps it would give her a reason to stay closer to us. It would nice getting to see her more often, don't you think?"

Kylaryn smiled, and nodded in agreement. Her desire to tease me seemed to have faded, and she shifted forward. Soon, she was settled on her haunches at my side, leaning against me. She lay her head across the back of my neck, staring into Amaleen's garden. For a little while we were both quiet.

"I missed you while I was searching," Kylaryn said softly.

I sighed a little, looking down at my paws.

"It's alright, Valyrym," Kylaryn pulled her head back, and licked my neck. "We both know that it...us..." She flicked her tail a little bit, and butted her head against me. "I just...didn't think it would happen so soon."

"That was my problem for so many years, Kylaryn," I said, lifting my head a little bit. "I always thought there was more time. That life was a road without end, a horizon you'd never actually reach. And then one day, my best friend was old, and dying. The next day you came back to me. Another day, another breath, and I had a son. And the next day after that my son was dying in my arms. All my life had passed in a blink and I had scarcely noticed it began.

"I was up all night, soaked in Valar's blood, wondering if I'd ever see him again. When morning came, and Amaleen could do no more for him, she held me while I cried and cried, and when I could not stop, she sang to me. The next morning, when I saw Valar barely alive yet happy, I knew I had to cherish that happiness. I thought I'd seized on it earlier, but only when I saw my son so close to death did I truly realize I had to live in each, and every moment."

I took a breath and went on. "The days have not passed so swiftly for me since then. Every day Valar yet draws breath is a gift that I cherish to the fullest. I clung to every moment like it was my last, and in each of those moments Amaleen was there. She was there for Valar and she was there for me when I simply did not have the strength to carry on alone. And as each of those moments passed between us, I came to care for her a little more.

"I have realized, Kylaryn, that nothing is certain. Tomorrow is not guaranteed, not even for a dragon. When we have something so powerful right in front of us, we have but to seize it because it might by gone by morning. We might be gone by morning. I am terribly sorry for it to happen this way, for you to learn of it at such a time. But I have to come to love Amaleen with everything I have, and I sincerely hope you can understand that."

Kylaryn lay her head against my neck a moment, her voice soft but genuine. "I can understand that, Valyrym."

I was glad. I still think it hurt her more deeply than she let on, but at least she understood. I think more than the fact I had simply come to love someone else, what pierced deepest into her soul was that I had come to love a human. She still saw most of them as the little more than the monsters who slaughtered our parents, shattered our clan, and separated her from her brother. Amaleen was so much more than that, and I truly hoped Kylaryn came to realize it.

We shared a comfortable silence for a little while, until Kylaryn surprised me in a very pleasant way. "For what it's worth, Valyrym. Amaleen is the only human I would not want to eat, given the chance."

"That is..." I found myself smiling. I pulled my head back a little to grin down at her, my ears perked. "Actually quite meaningful to me, Kylaryn. Thank you."

Kylaryn gave me a brief smile, and slowly pulled her body away from my own. She took a deep breath to compose herself again.

"Did you," I started to ask, then hesitated. She'd made it clear she still hadn't found her brother. But, I wondered if she'd found any more clues. "...Find anything?"

Kylaryn scowled, pinning her ears back against her blue head in saddened frustration. "Bones. I found the bones of a young dragon. Would have been about his age, when we fled."

"Oh..." I wasn't really sure how to respond to that, but my heart sank a little. "I'm...I'm sorry..."

"They're not his," Kylaryn snapped. The swiftness of her reply told me she wasn't so sure, and had spent a lot of effort trying to convince herself of it. "They did not smell like him."

"Then he's still out there, somewhere." I smiled at her. Everyone had to have something to hope for. Sometimes, hope was all we had left.

Still, her mood seemed soured. Then again, given the depth of our conversation, I imagined it would not be difficult to drag her thoughts into darker places for a while. "You should take her somewhere safe."

At first, I didn't know what she was talking about. "Take who somewhere safe?"

"Your mate," Kylaryn said. She pushed herself to her paws, turned to face me, and her silver eyes burned with a fire so fierce it seemed ready to consume us both.

"What are you talking about, Kylaryn?" My spines all tingled with dread, and I felt them flaring up on their own accord.

"You said she's planning a war."

"Yes?"

"Is it a war with the men to the east?"

I swallowed hard. Did Kylaryn know something I did not? "Yes. They are from a place called Illandra. They have come to lay claim to this land." The details were more complicated than that, but I doubted Kylaryn cared about such things. In truth, neither did I.

"Then Amaleen's people will lose," Kylaryn said with a growl. "You should take her somewhere safe, Valyrym, while you still can. If they are coming here, coming for this town? We should take our son and go. You should snatch your mate up and bring her with us before this place is burned down around her and you are left with only her scar upon your heart."

"Kylaryn," I said, my heartbeat quickening. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you seen this army?" She hissed a little.

"From a distance. Before Valar was hurt. The men who shot him were scouts, I think. I thought it new villages being built on the far horizon. Amaleen says it is actually a camp of men. Her enemies. My enemies."

Kylaryn paced around me in a slow circle. She looked like an angry cat, wondering why the mouse would not run. "I have seen this army, Valyrym. I flew near it on my way home. There are men there in numbers I have never imagined, Valyrym. There are thousands of men..."

"There are thousands of men here," I said, cutting her off. I waved my paw towards Sigil Stones. "And in the other cities..."

Kylaryn paused, narrowing her silver eyes at me. "Thousands of men in the foremost section of their camp. Behind them, there are thousands more waiting in reserve. They are an army, Valyrym." She emphasized the word as though she thought the meaning would be lost on me. Then she gestured at Sigil Stones just as I had. "They are not some bandit rabble. They are trained, equipped, and ready to fight. How many of your thousands here can say the same?"

"We cannot simply abandon them to be conquered!"

"Why not?" Kylaryn hissed at me. "In your younger days you were the one doing the conquering! If some bigger dragon had come to claim your lands as his own, you'd have flown off to find a safer place to live."

"This is different!"

"How is it different?"

"This is my home, now." I walked right up to her, glaring into her eyes. "And I will protect it. This is your home, Kylaryn. This land is yours as much as it is mine. This is Valar's home."

"Valar has already nearly died in this land once! It is time we move him somewhere safer."

"No!" I snarled at her with far more vehemence than I meant. "I will not yield my land to murderers! I will not give up my son's home to monsters!" I turned from her, stalked back towards Valar's corner. Korvarak said he'd seen the flag. It must be around somewhere. I soon located it tucked away in the corner of the patio, and snatched it up in my jaws. I dropped it on the grass, unfurling it. "This is their flag," I hissed, slapping my paw against the bloodied handprint. "And this is Valar's blood upon it. They are the ones who did this to him. I have no peace with these men, Kylaryn," I hissed again. "I will never have peace with these men!"

Kylaryn stared at the flag, pain burning in her eyes.

"You know it, don't you." I tapped the symbol. "This is the symbol, isn't it."

Kylaryn's voice was a whisper that was barely audible yet rang like a hammer against an anvil. "Yes."

Kylaryn hadn't known until then. She had flown over their camp, gotten an idea of their size, but she hadn't gotten close enough to see their flags. I could not blame her, she didn't want a bellyful of arrows any more than I did. But she knew that symbol. That image. That five towered keep haunted her nightmares as the icon of the men who murdered her parents and ruined our clan. She knew what men like that were capable of every bit as much as I.

"Then you see why I have to fight them." I fought to keep my voice level. "Amaleen is not the only thing I have come to care for, Kylaryn. I have come to care for this land, for these people, for my friends here. This is my home now, Kylaryn. This is Korvarak's home, this is Amaleen's home, this is where Lenira lived...This is your home..." I cast my gaze towards Valar's pile of blankets. Faint stains still marked the one emblazoned with my own image upon it. "Our son's home."

Kylaryn opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, but she could not find words. Instead, she simply opened and closed her muzzle a few times like a gasping fish.

"There are two ways to protect our son, Kylaryn," I said, my voice quiet yet fiery. "We can take him, we can fly far, far away where the humans can never reach us, and we can abandon our home. We can let them steal our lands yet again in order to protect our son. And in so doing, we abandon the people who saved his life to slavery or death." I let that sink in for a moment. In my mind, this army was here for conquest, and I doubted they would have any other use for the native inhabitants. "Or we stay here, and we fight, and we protect our son with our teeth and our claws and our fire."

"There are so many of them..."

"Then we hit them so hard, and so often, and we cut them so deeply that those who flee the carnage will never wish to set foot in these lands again."

Kylaryn did not reply. Her eyes were fixed on the flag. On the banner of the men she hated most. On her son's blood.

"How long have you wanted it, Kylaryn?" I moved a little closer, lowering my head to hers. "You know the old ways and the principal as well as I. Blood for blood, Kylaryn."

"Blood for blood..." She murmured back to me. "I wanted...I wanted to let it go, Valyrym." In that way, she was a better creature than I. "Yet...seeing this image before me..."

"If we flee, Kylaryn, then what happened to our clan is going to happen to Sigil Stones, and every other village in this land. These people are not like them..." I gestured dismissively towards the flag. "These are good people. They saved our son, Kylaryn. They saved Valar's life and I will not leave them to the same slaughter that fell upon our clan."

"There are only two us."

"Two of us slew fifty men..."

"And you both nearly died."

"And there will be five of us next time. And we will fight on our terms, not theirs. And we will have our own army behind us. We cannot do it alone, Kylaryn, and neither can the humans. But together, we can drive this scourge from our home."

"Five of us?" Kylaryn tilted her head.

"If you will fight alongside us, yes. We have three dragons already in Sigil Stones. You, and Korvarak, and me. You know Nary will fight for her home."

Kylaryn managed a little laugh. "You and I could leave and Nary would stay behind to fight them all by herself."

"Yes," I said, grinning in agreement. "She would. And Korvarak has a subordinate of his own. I am sure he will fight as well. That's five dragons. Five dragons is damn near an army in it's own right." I watched her a moment as she mulled it over. "If you want to take Valar from this land, I will not stop you. But...I am going to stay, and fight."

Kylaryn didn't reply. In truth, she didn't have to. I knew from the moment I unrolled that battered, bloodied flag. Her heart had burned with vengeance almost all her life. Dragons, though it sometimes pains me to admit it, are vengeful creatures. Take from us, and we will take from you if it takes us a hundred years. Our pain does not die easily, and when it hurts us deeply enough, it can consume us heart and soul until it becomes our entire existence.

"I will fight this war with you, Valyrym," she said, leaving her reasons unspoken. I knew them well enough. Just as I knew revenge would not ease her pain, but that would not stop her from claiming it. "But know this. If this battle turns, and this army nears Sigil Stones? I will take Valar and fly as far from here as my wings will carry me. I will not risk his life for this war."

"Neither will I."

The truth was, if the bulk of their army ever reached as far into Aran'alia as Sigil Stones, it meant we had already lost. If it ever came down to that, I was already planning to ask Kylaryn to abandon the fight in order to take Valar somewhere safe.

Kylaryn began to walk around the side of Amaleen's house, intent on finding Korvarak and our son. "Tomorrow, injuries or not, we must send Korvarak to find his subordinate. When I leave, you can stay here with Valar while you recover from your poison."

I cocked my head. "Where will you be going?"

Kylaryn glanced back at me over her indigo wings. "To drag your sister into a war."

---

Chapter Four

"Just do it, Valyrym."

I eyeballed the horrific looking contents of the suspiciously damp crate Amaleen had brought with her as I considered the events of the past few hours.

When Amaleen had finished her extensive meetings for the day, she took a hot bath. She'd changed into a dark blue blouse with flowing sleeves and silver threading, as well as a skirt laden with layers of black and gold that swished around her sandaled feet. It was the sort of clothing she most preferred to wear, and it was probably a comfort to her to get to wear it again after days in heavier traveling clothes. She had her hair done up behind her head, tied back with blue ribbons.

When I'd told her that there would be at least five dragons helping to protect her village and her lands she'd damn near danced with joy. She hugged me, she hugged Korvarak, and before anyone could stop her, she'd even hugged Kylaryn. I did get quite a laugh out of seeing Kylaryn's head held against the human woman's body. Kylaryn looked as though she couldn't decide between being furious or horrified, and eventually settled on something resembling angry humiliation. She pinned her ears back against her skull, flared her little spines a bit, and bared her fangs in a silent snarl. But she did not say anything or snap her jaws. When Amaleen let Kylaryn go she scooped up Valar, careful as could be, and whirled around on her feet with him. Valar squealed in joy and when she finally set him down, her arms aching, Valar demanded more.

While we dragons ate dinner, Amaleen left again for a little while to tell Namar that they would have our full participation in any and all battles to protect their lands. I made it clear that we had no intention of taking orders from humans on a day to day basis, but we would be open to suggestions on how best to assist them. I also made sure to have her tell him that we would also be taking the initiative often and would appreciate it if they would also listen to our suggestions now and then.

When Amaleen returned she brought with her a musty old wooden crate, and set it down in front of us. She crouched down and carefully pulled the lid free. Immediately the musty scent that already emanated from it grew into a rotten stench. Against my better judgment I peered inside. It looked to be filled with a pile of slimy looking, flat mushrooms all tinted a sickly blue color. Little black spots marked them here and there on the edges of their flat, floppy caps. I could not tell if they even had stalks or if they were just layers of nearly smooth fungus.

"That looks disgusting, and it smells like vomit."

"I know," Amaleen said, folding her arms beneath her breasts. "Now eat some of it."

"What?" I jerked my horned head back, shaking it. "Absolutely not."

"Just do it, Valyrym." Amaleen's glare left me little room for dispute.

"Why?" I hissed at her, lowering my head forlornly.

"Because you need to build an immunity as fast as possible." Amaleen nudged the crate with her sandaled foot. "I didn't go to the trouble of collecting these disgusting things just so you could turn your nose up at them."

Valar padded over and stuck his muzzle over the side of the crate. He peered inside, sniffed a few times, and then scrunched his blue-marked snout in a hatchling grimace. He quickly backed away and covered his nose with a paw as if to ward off the scent. "Ew! Yucky stink box!"

"Congratulations, Amaleen," I said with a glance at my son. "You've succeeded in discovering something even Valar won't eat."

"Valar doesn't need to eat it." Amaleen pushed the box closer to me with her foot. "But you do."

"Go on Valyrym," Korvarak said, his smirk shining through in his words. "Eat some."

Amaleen turned towards Korvarak. "You need to eat some too." She gestured towards Kylaryn. "So do you. And so do the other two dragons after they're here. The sooner you all start eating a bit of bluecap every day, the sooner those poisoned arrows won't be able to kill you."

"Won't eating it..." I glanced down at Valar, making sure he wasn't paying any attention before I mouthed the last few words. "Kill me?" I hissed my distaste.

"Not unless you eat too much all at once." Amaleen walked over to the box, crouched down, and pulled out a single floppy blue slab of fungus. "A creature your size should eat a few of these a day, I think. It will make you feel a little odd and a little sick at first, so I recommend eating it at night just before you go to sleep. That way you'll sleep off the effects. It needs to start building up in your system so your body can start developing an immunity to it. It is not an immediate process and you need to get started right away."

Kylaryn raised her voice, wrapping her tail around Valar as he settled near his mother. "If one arrow smeared with that filth nearly..." She glanced down at Valar, not wanting him to hear how close to death I'd been. "If that was all it took to bring down Val, why won't eating more than that do the same to us?"

"Two reasons." Amaleen dropped a few of the flat mushrooms down in front of me, then deposited a few more of them in front of Kylaryn, and Korvarak. As we all glared sullenly at the sickly looking things, she put the top back on the crate and moved it to a shady place. "For one, the poison they used was highly concentrated. I think they cooked a whole batch of it down to help extract the essence of it. They also mixed it with a few other herbs that combine to increase its potency. It's not uncommon knowledge, but it's a mushroom that's known mostly to grow in Aran'alia. So outsiders don't often know how to use it effectively as a toxin, or an immunity building agent. It's probably something they learned after conquering other parts of the land." Amaleen was quiet a moment as she mulled that over. "The other reason is that the arrow injected that poison straight into his blood. When it's ingested, it takes longer for it to work its way into your system, and so it doesn't hit you all at once. The arrow though, got a large dose of it straight into Valyrym's bloodstream."

"How did you stop it, exactly?" I cocked my head a little. I picked up one of the mushrooms between my thumb and a single claw, wanting to touch it as little as possible.

"It's a dangerous enough toxin that most healers throughout Aran'alia know all about it. It was one of the first poisons Lenira taught me about. We always have to learn about poisons, because we have to know how to treat them. There are not many poisonous things in our land that we haven't found an antidote for. The trick with Bluecap is that it takes several different herbs to help counteract the effects, and I had to get them all into you as quickly as possible. Korvarak and I forced you to eat some of them, others I worked their sap and fluids into a small blade and stuck you with it here and there to get it into your blood just as quickly as the poison."

"There are not many things that poison a dragon," Kylaryn said, a little sullenly. "This is clearly one of them. Are you certain eating it will not harm us?"

"Yes," Amaleen said, then hesitated just a little. "...Mostly."

Kylaryn hissed. "Mostly?"

"What I am certain of is that eating a little of it every day can make human immune to the worst effects of the toxin." Amaleen gave Kylaryn a long look. "And the fact that the next time you fight soldiers from Illandra, you can bet they'll be slinging more of those arrows at you." She softened her tone a little bit. "I know what happened to your clan, Kylaryn, and I think it's terrible. But that means these people know very well how to fight dragons. We have to do everything we can to minimize those weaknesses so they can't exploit them. I say, let them assume one arrow is all it's going to take to bring you down. By the time they realize it's not working any more..."

"They shall already be on fire," I said, chuckling to myself a little bit.

I took a deep breath, and decided I may as well set an example. Hopefully my example wouldn't be that of a fatal reaction. I popped the blue mushroom into my mouth, and chewed it up. It had a horrible, soft, slimy texture and tasted like putrid fruit and bitter rind. I had to force myself to swallow it.

"Bleeeggggchhh!" I must have made quite the face as everyone was suddenly laughing at me. At least they decided to follow my example. Both Kylaryn and Korvarak soon downed one of the mushrooms. Perhaps the prudent thing to do would have been to wait and see if I had any unexpected reactions such as vomiting, the runs, or death. Each of them scrunched up their snouts and flattened their ears and spines against their skull, Korvarak's tongue hanging from his muzzle.

"EECCK! That's hideous!" He gasped.

Kylaryn didn't say anything, just shook her head as if trying to jar the taste from her mouth. She quickly stuck the other two into her snout, chewed them up and swallowed. Then, groaning as if in pain, she rose to her feet, released Valar from her tail's grasp, and padded to the nearest water barrel. I soon did the same, forcing myself to down the other two before I joined her for a drink.

Korvarak was a little more hesitant. He looked at Amaleen, whining plaintively. "Do I really have to eat two more?"

"Unless you want to be the one vomiting blood on the road next time," Amaleen reminded him.

I glanced back at the two of them, beads of water dripping from my black scaled chin. "There wasn't that much blood in it."

Kylaryn shot me a worried looked as Korvarak finally ate the other two. I nudged my mate...or former mate, I suppose. I smiled at her and nosed her a moment before I went back to my water. She must not have had that particular nugget of information before. Still, the important thing was that I was alive, and recovering, and Amaleen had a way to protect us all from the effects of the poison.

Disgusting as the treatment may be.

I soon found that Amaleen was right about the feelings of sickness. I began to feel a little dizzy, and a little nauseous as well. Amaleen assured me that was normal, and as if just to make us feel better, she cut herself a little section of mushroom and ate it herself. It was not long before the other two were feeling ill as well. Soon we all lay down to get comfortable enough to try and sleep it off.

Kylaryn curled on the grass and Valar lay tucked in her arm. I settled down nearby so I wasn't far from my son, and Amaleen fetched herself a pillow and a blanket, and slept outside with me. She ended up tucked away in the crook of my foreleg just as Valar was tucked in his mother's. I told Korvarak he was welcome to sleep alongside us as well, so long as I didn't wake in the middle of the night to find him cuddling against me. He happily took me up on my own. It was nice in a strangely serene way. Four dragons all curled together in a human's backyard, with that very woman cuddled up against me.

It was very peaceful, and I knew we had to enjoy that peace while we could.

---

In the morning, Kylaryn and Korvarak both prepared to leave. While Kylaryn said goodbye to Valar and promised to return much swifter than usual, Amaleen tied a large pouch around her neck. Much to Kylaryn's disgust, it was filled with more bluecap. Amaleen told her to eat a few pieces every day, just as I'd be doing. With coaxing from myself and Korvarak, we got Kylaryn to promise to do as Amaleen said. I trusted her at her word. When she said goodbye to me and gave me a hug, I made sure to cover myself with a paw to prevent her from deciding to give me a goodbye squeezing. That didn't stop her from whacking me in the head with her tail when she turned around, though.

Amaleen didn't let Korvarak leave until she'd addressed his paw. She had a few of her apprentices assist with the act of cleaning and then splinting his paw. The sword had pushed right through bone, and I took Valar out to the market while they worked on Kor's paw. I didn't really want the little one to see such an injury being treated. After a few treats and snacks happily offered by the vendors, we returned just in time to see Korvarak hobbling around on his newly splinted paw. It looked awfully clumsy, wrapped in both bandages and carefully cut wooden slats to insure the injured bones were not moved. Korvarak wasn't happy about it, but I imagined he'd be even less happy about a permanently maimed paw.

Korvarak got two pouches tied around his neck, each with an oversized flap so that he could work them with a single paw. One of them contained his portion of bluecap, enough for him to eat a few pieces a day for about two weeks. The other continued a large dose of painkilling herbs. He said goodbye to us all as well, and soon was well out of sight in the skies.

As for myself, Amaleen didn't want me to fly for a few more days. Aside from the ill feeling I got after consuming bluecap each night, I felt a little better every day that passed. Now and then my belly ached, and Amaleen told me it was likely my liver filtering out the last of the poisons from my blood. I told her it was probably all that damn poison she was making me eat.

"If I wake up dead, I am going to be quite cross with you," I muttered one evening.

"If you wake up dead I'm going to have to give Valar all your treasures," Amaleen replied.

While I waited till I was able to fly again, I was invited to Sigil Stone's military planning sessions. Normally they held such meetings inside their city hall. It was a very old building, and in my eyes quite outdated. Yet the town seemed to relish its historical importance as it was perhaps the oldest building still standing in Sigil Stones. It was only a single story, and held a faint crescent shape. Built entirely from wood, they worked hard to keep it from rotting or falling into disrepair. All along the sloped roof, just beneath the rain gutters were all manner of sigils and symbols. Twisted lines ran the length of it, entwined like serpentine lovers. Beneath that, across the walls, a whole line of people was carved into the facade of the dark wood. Each carving was completely individual, and according to Amaleen, each represented an actual person in the history of Aran'alia or Sigil Stones itself.

As I could not fit through the doors of the hall itself, I met with them in various locations. First, we met in a well manicured garden rotunda out behind the city hall. It had a beautiful little fountain in the center, with water shooting forth from the mouths of fish and splashing down into a pond, where it trickled into a rock lined stream that encircled the garden. I wished to keep Valar close during the day. I let him busy himself splashing around in the water and attacking the stone fish. It meant his wet bandages would have to be changed and his wounds cleaned, but that wasn't my job to worry about. It was Amaleen's.

The first day I was asked out there it was mostly to answer some questions. Namar was there; the bald blacksmith seemed to lead the questioning. Most of them were about my capabilities. How much fire could I produce in a day? How much weight could I carry while on the ground, and how about in flight? Was I willing to carry riders into battle? What were my weaknesses?

The last question seemed a bit humiliating to a dragon. We did not like to think of ourselves as having weaknesses, but I knew well enough we did. One of them was clearly bluecap, and I explained how Amaleen was helping to address that. It soon became clear they wished to know a dragon's weaknesses in order to best help me protect them. Amaleen, for her part, also wanted to know what manner of draconic injuries she might expect to have to treat after a battle.

I hadn't really thought about it till then. But as I sat and discussed it, I could not help but realize the odds of us returning from this war uninjured day in and day out seemed rather small. I could only hope our injuries would never be any more serious as those Korvarak and I had suffered previously battling humans.

I tried to explain each weakness I could, each chink in our armor as it were. We were hard creatures to bring down. All our most immediately vital organs were well protected. Our brains are protected in very hard skulls, and our hearts, and lungs protected by the thick plates of our chest. Those were the strongest scales on our entire body. Thick, sturdy ribs helped to protect those same organs from attacks that came from our sides.

The scales that covered the rest of our bodies were usually enough to deflect most attacks. Arrows often bounced right off our hides, and swords and axes often did the same. The best way to injure a dragon's torso with a blade was a very direct hit with a very sharp edge so that it had the momentum and direct force needed to slice through our thick scales. After all, humans who made their living murdering my kind often wore our hides as armor for a reason. Another effective but challenging way to penetrate a dragon's scales could be a sweeping blow with a sword from behind, so as to get under the lay of the scales as it were.

Namar listened intently, and now and then he had a few assistants take measurements of my body. I told him he'd better not be thinking about making me into armor should I fall in battle. He merely smiled and made little reply. As I was talking, he occasionally liked my natural armor to the sort that humans wore. Much like chain mail, most of our scales were often better at deflecting a blade than the penetrating force a smaller arrow carried.

Namar's concluded that our joints were our armor's weakest points. The scales there were finer and smaller to ensure ease of movement. The scales across our throats were the same way, and a well placed arrow to a dragon's throat would often claim his life. And an arrow through the eye was pretty self explanatory, even to a human. Our wings were also quite vulnerable, and quite sensitive as to ensure we could sense the tiniest current of air beneath them.

Luckily it would take an entire army of arrows to punch enough holes in our wings to drop us from the skies. The meaty joints where our wings joined our body however were not scaled, and if struck deeply by an arrow could cripple a wing and send us crashing to the earth. Also, of course, our genitals were a vulnerable spot. Thankfully, when not including our ego, a male dragon's genitals made a very difficult target for an archer while the dragon was moving and in flight.

Namar and Amaleen both took notes as I answered each of their questions. Namar also made little sketches in a pad now and then. Amaleen came over and prodded me once in a while, feeling the scaling along my throat or squeezing a joint here and there. Namar looked at me and looked at his sketchpad, and then showed me some of his sketches. He had lines and numbers written down, including the measurements his people had been taken. He had an image depicting a dragon diving from the skies on a group of archers. He explained some of the lines as angles, and told me there were likely ways I could alter my flight slightly to present a better protected target.

Another day we met beneath the Apple Tree. I suggested to them that they contact every single village and city in all of Aran'alia that was still free. From the City by the River and the City of High Rocks, to the Hidden Village, to every city in Korvarak's domain and every dwelling in between. Every person in the land needed to know we were being invaded. And every person willing to fight for their home was going to have to draw steel and do just that. I made it clear that I thought what we needed was a centralized army. Every village fighting on its own wasn't going to be enough even with the help of five dragons. But every village working together, alongside the dragons? That might be enough to drive the invaders out.

I also suggested that the sooner they could start training drills for as many men as possible, the better. Even the soldiers they did have had previously faced little more than bandit hordes and other similar rabble. Now, they were going to be up against a highly trained army with a history conquering foreign realms. Namar planned to have the best soldiers he could find take up training the rest of the men.

The afternoons passed as Namar, Amaleen and I worked to minimize my species' few weaknesses. We might have accomplished even more were it not for Valar doing everything in his admittedly adorable power to keep me distracted. From climbing atop my back and proclaiming himself the King of the Dragons, to clambering up onto a table covered in maps and claiming that he was now the Emperor of Sigil Stones, he did what he could to disrupt us with his games. Thankfully neither Amaleen nor Namar nor any of the other local humans seemed too perturbed by his behavior. Perhaps they appreciated having someone to break the tension of the meetings. Or maybe it was just because his father was glowering down at them the entire time.

At night Amaleen and I played with Valar and simply shared each other's company. Just because our land was going to war did not mean I was going to start neglecting the days of my life again. Some nights, when Valar was asleep, we shared pleasure in her back garden. The sight of her striding around nude through the grasses and beneath the trees was a beautiful thing. When the moon was at its fullest, her naked body shown with a radiance I could barely believe. When we were both spent, we lay curled together, watching the skies.

Other nights, when Valar did not go to sleep so early, the three of us lay sprawled in the grass and across blankets, and I taught Amaleen the star forms that dragons saw. Valar ensured I pointed out the Tail Chasing Hatchling, as that was his favorite. I showed her every star form I knew, from the Shining Sun, to the Earth Father's Wings, to the Grand Sky Dance, and the Everlasting Battle. I even pointed out the Mounting Lovers, though for Valar's sake, I referred to it as the "Wrestling Dragons".

One night, Amaleen gently kissed my muzzle, and told me she would be happy just to lay with me and try to count the stars. When Valar slept, we tried to do just that. Together we lay awake as long as we could, staring at the vast, star-filled brilliance that was the night sky over Aran'alia. Though I knew I was going to war, those were my halcyon days.

That is one of the things I miss most. The simple, calming pleasure of staring at the stars with someone I love. Here, in this hole, I can scarcely even remember what the unfettered night sky looks like.

When I was strong enough to fly, I returned home. Amaleen left her affairs in Namar's care so that she could go with me. We even took Valar, though I made sure to tell him we would not stay more than a day or so. Amaleen changed his bandages before we left, and seemed very pleased with his progress. She even whispered to me she could probably take his stitches out before long, though we dared not tell him yet lest he get too excited for his own good.

I carried Amaleen upon my back, and Valar in my paws, after making him promise to stay as still as he could, and not to go bounding around the rocks once we were home. He kept his promise to stay still, but no sooner had we set down then he started running off, glad to be home. It wasn't long before I had to grasp his tail and keep hold of him for a while, despite his angry swatting at my paw and cries of "Bad father!"

When I got him to calm down, we walked up the rocky trail to my home. This was only the second time Amaleen was here, and the first time she could truly appreciate the place. She walked in ahead of me and gazed around at all the many things I'd collected over the years. When she spotted the old carriage in a corner, she burst out laughing.

"I'd forgotten about that thing! Why on earth do you still have it?"

I shrugged my wings. "Valar enjoys it. Besides, what else am I going to do with it now?"

Amaleen just laughed and shook her head. It did not take her long to gravitate to my bookshelves. That was just like Amaleen. Crates full of coins and jewels and treasure, and what did she find most fascinating? Dusty old tomes. I could not help but smile at the reverence she displayed when she ever so gently eased a rough bound old dragon book from the shelves. The thick leather that wrapped it was worn and scratched, but the parchment within was thick and not yet too brittle. She opened it up and did her best to sound out the dragon sigils within as I'd taught her lately.

"Ka-tra-rek...Katrarek-vog?" She licked her lips. "Something about flying, right?"

"Khatraa rekvo'k" I said, pronouncing it properly for her. "It translates to, something like the freedom of flight. Or...fly freely, perhaps. It is not a direct translation, as Kaatraa rekvo'k is more of a saying. Like a wish for great health, and a happy, freely lived life."

Amaleen smiled at me, paging through the book. I watched her gingerly turn the pages, but I had to keep an eye on Valar, too. It wasn't long before he started trying to climb up into the carriage. I walked after him and gently grasped his neck in my teeth, then set him back down closer to Amaleen and told him he could play in the carriage later. He huffed and whined, but had soon gotten distracted by some of his forgotten toys anyway.

While Amaleen admired the books, I walked around the place. Every scent that haunted my home was a memory. Every corner held something that brought back an image of my past. In my mind I saw Lenira wrapping her bare form in a deerskin blanket and dancing to music only she heard. I heard Valar daring us to find him unknowing that his tail stuck out from the crate he'd jumped into. Valar's hatching was as clear in mind as the day it happened. I even spotted the fur on which his egg had first cracked open. The sight of it made me smile.

I could easily remember the first time I'd taken Lenira to my home, just as clearly as I remembered the first time Amaleen walked the expanse of the cave when I could barely even stand to look at her. Now that Amaleen and I had found love together, those memories no longer haunted me the way they once did. They were but faded scars. I was aware of their presence, but the happiness I felt with Amaleen outweighed the pain that had wrapped itself around my heart for so long. I felt I had finally reached a point where I could accept what I had done. It was all just another step in the long, winding road that eventually lead me to Amaleen.

"Everything great about me has come from you," I said, walking up to Amaleen to lay my chin against her shoulder.

"Don't be silly," Amaleen said with a giggle. She set the book she was reading down and stroked my muzzle. "Everything great about you was already inside you. I may have...helped it find its way out, but with or without me, you're the same creature."

"You have done more than that, Amaleen," I said, nudging her cheek. "You have lead me to everything great in my life, and made me far more than I would have ever been had you never shone your light upon my life."

Amaleen just smiled, and shook her head. "You need to write poems, Val. You say beautiful things, and they should be written down."

"I've been working on one," I admitted, a little embarrassed. "In my head."

"Oh!" Amaleen smiled and turned towards me. "And when do I get to hear it?"

"A little later, perhaps," I said, flicking my tail.

Amaleen didn't seem to realize how serious I was when I told she'd lead me to everything great in my life. I truly believed that. Before she came into my life, I was but an arrogant beast who lived an empty life. Were it not for Amaleen, I would not have learned the truth about Lenira. Had I not learned that truth, I would not have yearned for something greater in my life when Lenira passed. Had I not sought that, I likely would have rejected Kylaryn while she was receptive. I would not have wanted to be burdened with the responsibility of a child. Valar would have never been born. On and on, I could trace it all back to Amaleen. Lenira might have been the spark, but Amaleen was the fire that consumed the wickedness inside me and left me pure. She made me what I am, and she made my life worth living.

"I should like to hear it now, if you're willing," Amaleen said, smiling at me and rubbing my nose.

"Alright," I smiled at her. I could refuse her nothing. "But...it's not finished. I'm still...refining it. And...it's my first poem, so...don't judge it too harshly, alright?"

Amaleen promised to be kind to my poem, and she followed me over onto my bed of furs and blankets and all my other soft things. I lay down upon my belly, and Valar soon limped over as well. He spent a few minutes re-arranging my bedding to his liking. He dragged a few pillows around with his teeth as Amaleen settled down against my black scaled form.

Valar collected himself a green pillow with a golden letter A emblazoned upon it, a black and silver lacy pillow, and a matching set of blue pillows with white edging. I had no idea where I'd stolen such things, probably ripped them out of some noble's travel carriage or something. Valar chirped for our attention, pointed at each of the pillows in turn and uttered his now-familiar refrain of "That's mine!"

Once Valar had ownership of the pillows properly sorted out, he flopped down upon them and swatted at my paw. "Story time!"

I licked my nose, chuckling. "It's not so much of a story as it is a poem." I glanced at Amaleen, hoping her expectations were not set too high. "A short poem, at that."

Valar growled at me. "Story time!" He thumped his little tail against the pillows he lay upon.

"It's a poem, Valar," I repeated, grinning.

Valar lashed out and swatted my paw again. "Poem time!"

"Alright, alright," I gave a rumbling laugh. "This is a poem I've been thinking of." I scrunched up a small rabbit hide nervously in my paw. "It's called, Burn, Burn, Burn."

Amaleen raised her eyebrows, and I could tell she was already struggling to hide her laughter.

Yes, Alia, I really did write a poem entitled Burn, Burn, Burn. What do you from me, it was my first attempt!

"Burn, Burn, Burn." I cleared my throat with a growl. "The flames that they fear, more than a spear. My enemies flee, hot misery. They've angered me, now they shall see. Burn, Burn, Burn. Embers rise high, destruction is nigh. Wrath so hot, escape is not...an option. Burn, burn, burn." I paused, gulped and licked my nose. "That is...all I have so far."

Amaleen couldn't hold back any longer, she burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed till she toppled over onto the furs, clutching her ribs. Soon, Valar was laughing with her, and despite the heat that rushed to my muzzle and flushed my ears and crests scarlet with embarrassment, I found myself laughing too. I couldn't help it. Not simply because I knew it was a silly poem, but because Amaleen's laughter was infectious. It was joyful laughter meant to be shared, not meant to humiliate me. I loved every moment of it, even as it made my arrow wound ache and throb from the force of my boisterous laughter.

When I had collected myself, I grinned down at her. "Oh, yes. Laugh it up, Female. Let's all laugh at the dragon's first attempt at poetry. See how that encourages him to try it again."

Amaleen kept laughing longer after I'd stopped, and even when she'd nearly collected herself, she giggled again every few moments. Finally, she lay sprawled on her back, smiling up at me. She'd long since removed any ribbons in her hair for the night, and her lightly curly black hair fanned out around her head like a beautiful tapestry of shadow. She smiled up at me. The laughter that had finally left her lips still danced in the brilliant blue of her eyes, shining alongside her love for me.

"Oh, Valyrym my dear, that was wonderful." Still laying on her back, she reached over to stroke my foreleg. "We have to write that one down in our book as soon as we return."

"I thought from the way you laughed that you didn't like it. When I said it out loud it seemed far more embarrassing than something I should want to keep around."

"But that's precisely why we must keep it around!" Amaleen grinned up at me. "We are defined as greatly by our attempts and our failures as we are our successes! Without keeping a record of our deeds, without writing down our earliest efforts, how are we to measure our progress?"

"Have you kept a record of all your earliest attempts then?" I cocked my head a little.

"I certainly have. Tell you what, Val. You let me write this one down for you when we get home, and I shall share with you one of my own earliest poems when I was a child."

"Ah, I see how it is." I rumbled a little in amusement, then hung my head and let my ears droop as though I were sulking. "The only poem of yours that is close to as embarrassingly bad as mine is something you wrote as a child."

Amaleen just giggled. "I promise you Val. Write this down, and one day you'll be ever so glad you did. When this war is over and I'm getting on in years, you'll read it to me one day and I'll laugh and laugh and you'll feel so very happy you kept it."

That thought made me smile. It would have been so wonderful if I had only been given that chance. "It's a deal then, Amaleen."

Amaleen giggled again, and rolled over onto her side to look at Valar. She reached out and stroked his muzzle. "Do you understand what a poem is, Valar?"

Valar nuzzled her hand, and then nodded. "Rhymey words!"

"Poems can rhyme, yes, and often do. Though they don't have to." Valar looked confused, and Amaleen rubbed his nose, grinning. "Alright, they're rhymey words. Think you could come up with a poem?"

Valar gave the wisest nod a hatchling could give. "I poem too!"

"You already have one?"

Valar thumped his own chest with a paw, repeating himself a little more forcefully. "I poem too!"

"Well let's hear it, then," Amaleen grinned.

"Yes, my Love," I added, smiling at him. "Let's hear it. This ought to be good."

Valar lifted his head as if proud of his own ability to craft a well-turned verse. "Smoked Fishy, yum yum yum! Smoked Fishy, in my tum!" He beamed, quite proud of himself. "I'm smart!"

"You certainly are!" Amaleen said, hugging Valar against herself as we both laughed. He squawked in alarm, and then purred. As Amaleen lay back down, Valar flopped against her chest.

This time it was Amaleen's turn to yelp in alarm. "No, Valar, you can't claim me," she said before he had a chance to do just that.

"Why not?" Valar sounded disappointed.

"Because I have already claimed her," I replied, nudging my son with my muzzle to ease him from Amaleen's body. "And this is one claim I intend to keep to myself."

After Valar returned to his pillows, Amaleen moved to snuggle up against the plates of my chest. "Not planning to share me with Korvarak, then?"

"Sounds like you've been talking to Kylaryn," I muttered, grinning at her.

"I do seem to recall her mentioning something about comparing plows."

"Ugh," I muttered. "She told you about that, did she? That female gets the daftest ideas in her head."

Amaleen just laughed, stroking my foreleg as she lay against me. "I doubt it's a fair comparison, anyway."

I grinned, puffing my chest plates out in pride.

It didn't last long. Amaleen tilted her head back to regard me as sincerely as she could. "I mean, Korvarak's young and vibrant and no doubt quite virile by dragon standards. And you're getting pretty old these days, aren't you?"

"I am not!" I exclaimed before I realized I'd just been taken all the way in. "Oh, very funny," I snapped, lashing my tail and sending a few hides flying.

Amaleen just laughed and laughed. I laughed with her before long. I always did. Didn't mean I couldn't try and get back at her.

I gestured with a paw in the air. "Though, Korvarak does have this one girl. Perhaps he and I could arrange a trade for a while."

"Mhm," was all Amaleen murmured in reply.

"Or maybe you could satisfy the two of us, see which of us lasts longer. I'm sure it would be me."

"If you're sure than there's no reason to try, is there."

"Not buying it, hmm?"

"You couldn't give it away for free, Val," Amaleen said with a giggle.

"I shall have to work on the believability of my ploys, then."

Amaleen just smiled, turning a bit to kiss the plates of my chest. "Good night, Val."

Smiling, I eased my head down to the blankets. "Good night, Amaleen."

"What about meeeeee?"

I closed my eyes, but my smile grew. "What about you, Valar?"

"Oh, poop on you!" Valar didn't like my implication that he was an afterthought.

Our laughter echoed around the cavern for a while. Finally, I opened a single golden eye for a moment to find him grinning at me. I smiled back at him, and closed my eyes again. "Good night, Valar."

---

In the morning I left Valar with Amaleen for a little while in order to do some hunting. My strength was continuing to return, and my body needed the exercise. For a little while I just flew, relishing the sight of all the green hills rolling beneath me like an emerald ocean frozen in time. I smelt a bit of frost on the air at higher altitudes, and in the distance, I could see some of the trees further into the mountains were tinted with vibrant shades of orange and yellow. Autumn was coming, and with it would come increasingly frequent silver rains that would eventually turn to snows.

With any luck that would benefit our side in the war. When it rained heavily enough the hills would grow muddy and difficult to traverse for large groups, and when it snowed travel would grow even more difficult. While the human's armies might have trouble journeying far, the other dragons and I would have no such trouble. I had no problem with the idea of laying waste to a snowbound camp all winter long.

The coming of autumn also meant it was nearly time to celebrate Valar's hatching. Though I did not know the exact day, I did know he had hatched before the first snows fell. I remembered many of the trees had begun to turn by then, but had not yet truly lost their leaves. That gave me a decent time frame to plan something special for his most meaningful celebration yet. Perhaps that would be a good time to have his stitches removed.

Considering that his stitches might come out soon brought up an interesting question. Once he was healed, where would he live? Previously I has assumed that when he was healthy enough to leave the town, I would take him back to Sigil Stones. That assumption had been upended by love and war. Even if not for the conflict, there was every chance I might have wished to live in Sigil Stones with Amaleen as often as possible. Though I might have preferred she come live with me, I knew well enough a human might not easily adapt to a dragon's life in the long term. More importantly, she had duties to her town and people she simply could not abandon. Idly, I wondered how the people of Sigil Stones would feel about a dragon permanently moving into Amaleen's back garden.

The more I thought of it, the more I realized Valar would likely have to live in Sigil Stones often during the war. I agreed with Kylaryn that if the war drew too near Sigil Stones, we'd evacuate Valar. I would also want to evacuate Amaleen. Yet I knew she would refuse to leave her city, even in the face of death. I did not care to consider which option I might choose in such a case.

So long as Sigil Stones was not directly under assault, it would be the safest place for Valar. After all there would be plenty of times when Kylaryn and I would both be off fighting the Illandran army. I wouldn't want to leave Valar in my cave all by himself, nor would I want to leave him there with a few people from Sigil Stones.

If these Illandrans learned enough about me, they would try and lash out at those I cared for. I had never feared dragon slayers coming to my home in the past. Aran'alia held little more love for their kind than we did. Yet for enemy soldiers who sought a way to force me to abandon the war, my cavern might be all too easy to access. There was no way I would leave Valar there even with a contingent of guards. He would be far safer in Sigil Stones where the enemy could not actively penetrate its walls without a sizable direct assault. That settled it then. Valar would have to live in Sigil Stones with me.

When I'd made my decision, I soon caught a large elk, and returned home. Amaleen had a fire going outside my lair, and was busy teaching Valar not to get too close it. He couldn't yet make his own fire, but already it fascinated him. When I landed with the elk, Valar grabbed the cool end of a burning stick in his teeth and dragged it out of the flames. Then he hauled it all the way across the trail to where I'd landed. He spit out the stick, and took the non-burning end into his blue marked paw, only to set the flaming wood down atop the carcass of the elk.

"I cooking now!" He grinned up at me as the smell of burning fur permeated the air.

"Yes, you are," I patted his head, chuckling. "Let's let Amaleen do the cooking, though, she's pretty good at it." Then I shot Amaleen a playful glare. "Are you teaching my son to play with fire?"

"Of course not," Amaleen said as innocently as she could. "Playing with fire comes naturally to you dragons." She walked over and fetched Valar's "cooking stick" and returned it to the fire. Valar trotted after her, intent on stealing that flaming stick right back until she lightly swatted at his nose. "Leave it there, Valar. It's not safe for little hatchlings to play with fire. That's how your father burned his parents' bed down."

That wasn't exactly how it happened. That also wasn't exactly a story I wanted Valar to know. "I did no such thing," I muttered. "Honestly, Amaleen, I don't know where you get such ideas."

I glared at Amaleen, but she ignored me. She fetched a knife, and went to cut thick strips of elk loin away from the carcass before Valar and I started eating it. When she had what she needed, I settled in to my breakfast, and Valar was soon doing the same. Meanwhile, Amaleen laid out the strips of elk upon the rocks she'd placed around the fire. The meat sizzled from the moment it touched the stone, and soon the lovely scent of roasting elk was filling the air along with the scent of blood. To a dragon, both aromas were equally delightful.

Amaleen's food cooked swiftly, and she joined Valar and I for breakfast. Any apprehension at watching dragons eat still bleeding prey had long since left her. We all ate our fill, and Amaleen asked me to take the rest of the carcass back home to donate it to the market. There was still some meat left that the stall vendors could cook for their own lunch, and plenty of hide and ligaments and bones for them to utilize. I was a little impressed at just how much use humans could get from an animal carcass.

When we were all full, Amaleen helped me choose some of the most valuable parts of my collection to donate to town. I'd decided to use all my gains from years of tributes and thievery to help create a viable war fund. My earlier gifts had been a good start and now it was time to add to that. When the other dragons all returned, I could have them head to my lair as well to bring even more treasure back home so that we could distribute it among all the towns. By the end of this war I imagined my collection would have dwindled to little more than my books, my soft things, my carriage, and a few person treasures, but that was fine.

"Is this what I think it is?" Amaleen asked. I was filling a sack with jewels, and she had wandered off to examine a few of my trinkets.

I turned to see what she'd found. Amaleen held a large section of creamy grey egg shell, marked here and there with blotches of black, and blue. She held it very reverently in her hands, turning it over a few times. A smile spread over my muzzle, and I nodded.

"Unless you're completely daft, yes, that's exactly what you think it is." It was the largest piece of Valar's egg shell I had left. So long as it did not crumble to dust I planned to keep it my entire life. Last I heard, my parents still had bits of shell the eggs of Nary and myself. I liked that tradition. "Careful with it, it's rather brittle these days. And don't let Valar see you playing with it."

"Why not?" Amaleen asked, running her fingers over the smooth outer side of it. She turned it over, and touched the slightly rougher, slightly stickier interior.

"Because I used to have two sections like that, and when Valar found out what it was he wanted to play with it." I chuckled a little, shaking my horned head. "Didn't take him long to break it into tiny little pieces after he decided to wear it like a helmet and go head-butt his sleeping father."

Amaleen burst out laughing, and gently put the eggshell back on a shelf Valar could not reach. I'd made sure to keep it where he couldn't see it, and where he couldn't find any way to climb up to it, either. Amaleen walked over, stroked my neck, and then kissed my scales, smiling at me.

"You're such a sweetie," she murmured.

"I am not," I said, lashing my tail spines. "I'm a grumpy, cold hearted old beast."

"You're a bad liar, Val," Amaleen giggled. She crouched down to scoop up some sort of jeweled golden tiara. She stood up and stuck it on her own head. "What do you think?"

"You look like a spoiled princess," I said, grinning.

Amaleen laughed a little and removed the tiara, tossing it into the bag.

I scrunched my muzzle at her. "Now you look like a dirty commoner."

Amaleen swatted me on the nose, grinning. I yanked my head back, and she giggled at me. "And you look like an overgrown salamander. Now help me get the rest of this treasure gathered up, you fat lizard."

"Hey," I said, sounding a little dejected. "That's two insults! I only insulted you once. And I'm not fat."

Amaleen walked around to my side, poking my belly scales. "Keep eating cake every day and you will be."

"I've got to eat cake to wash the taste of that damn blue fungus out of my mouth," I hissed at her, stomping a front paw like a petulant hatchling.

"You had cake for breakfast the other day!"

I'd forgotten about that. "Valar wanted some, I thought it wouldn't hurt to indulge myself in a piece or two."

"You had two cakes," Amaleen scoffed. "And I thought I told you to do some work?"

"I'll do your work," I muttered, then realized how foolish that sounded. Before she could point it out, I swatted her playfully on the rump.

Amaleen yelped and jumped in the air, clutching her bottom with one hand. She whirled around, glared at me, and tried to slap me on the nose. I laughed and swiftly backed away from her as she kept after me, trying to whack me on the nose. When my rump butted up against the stone wall of my cavern, I covered my nose with a front paw, and tucked my tail between my hind legs to protect my vulnerable bits.

"Truce, truce!" I offered, my voice muffled by my paw.

"I'm going to have a paw print on my ass all day long now!" Amaleen glared at me, but I could see laughter dancing in her eyes.

"You like it," I murmured under my breath.

Valar soon bounced towards us, giggling. "Paw print on your ass!"

"Don't say that, Valar," Amaleen and I both said almost in unison.

Valar gazed up at us with wide, brilliantly gold and silver flecked eyes as though he thought we must be somehow sharing our thoughts telepathically. Amaleen suddenly snatched my ear, holding it tightly and shaking it a little bit. I yelped and twisted against her grasp, and she shook a finger at me. "You watch it, Lizard! You're gonna get a handprint somewhere sensitive when you least expect it!"

Amaleen released my ear and I pulled my head back. I waited until she turned around, and tried to copy her gesture of sticking out her tongue by letting my own longer pink tongue loll from my black muzzle. Valar giggled to himself and soon he was copying me. He let his own little hatchling tongue hang from his snout. Amaleen turned just in time to see us both making that expression. I yanked my own tongue back in as swiftly as I could but she'd already caught me.

"You're an ass, Val," she said, grinning, then moved to stroke Valar's neck. "And you're adorable, little Valaranyx."

"I'm aboradle!" Valar said, trying his best to copy a rather difficult human word.

When we had gathered up as much loot as I could safely carry, we returned to Sigil Stones. Since I was carrying sacks full of treasure, Valar got to ride on my back. I made him promise to sit still, and more importantly, Amaleen made him promise to sit still. Though I wasn't sure what it said about me, he already seemed to have taken to obeying Amaleen more often than he did his father. Surely Kylaryn would be proud of her female influence.

Given that Kylaryn did not seem to hate Amaleen the way she hated other humans, I hoped they'd come friends. They got along in their own way, and that was a good start where Kylaryn was concerned. I knew Amaleen would be happy to befriend her, if only Kylaryn would allow it.

Amaleen had already taken a bit of a liking to Korvarak. I was sure they'd be fast friends before long. As I flew, I idly wondered if Amaleen would have made friends with Korvarak earlier in life as easily as she did now. Had she once hated all dragons, or only me? It mattered little in the long run, just the passing thoughts of an ever curious dragon.

Still, it was hard to deny the idea that something truly glorious might be happening here. I was not foolish enough to think that the addition of five dragons would make this war an easy victory. But at the same time, I could not help but imagine what might happen if we did help lead Aran'alia to victory. The people here had accepted our kind before, for the most part. Insofar as that as long as we did not go out of our way to kill them, they did not go out of their way to kill us. That in and of itself was different from most human lands where they saw us as a sign of evil to be eradicated. But if all of Aran'alia came to know they had dragons to thank for their continued freedom, it would be a truly wondrous thing for my kind. Dragons would be welcomed here by man like we had never been welcome in any part of the world before.

It seemed so simple a thing. All we had to do was fight. Dragons knew how to fight. We knew how to kill men, just as they knew how to kill us. For once, though, we would fight for something more than ourselves. We would fight for an ideal. For the lives and freedom of those few humans who had always accepted us in their own way. And when we were victorious, for at the time it seemed a near certainty, then at long last dragons would have a true homeland of their own. A place where even dragons were welcomed with warm smiles and open arms. Where we could make our lairs and build our clans and never again have to fear the armies of men coming to slaughter us in the name of their Gods and Kings.

The thought made me smile all the way back to Sigil Stones.

---

Chapter Five

I called it my war council.

Five dragons, myself included, gathered in the expansive garden behind Amaleen's home to discuss matters of war. Korvarak had returned first, and with him was Voskalar. A few days beyond that, and Kylaryn had returned along with Narymiryn. My sister was as eager to fight as I was, just as I'd imagined she would be. Now, we sat behind Amaleen's home, peering intently at maps that I had carefully scrawled upon large leafs of parchment.

I ignored the comments about how dainty I was getting with my paws to be able to scribe such things, until they came from Voskalar. I did not know him, and I'd be damned if I was going to let some upstart runt insult me the same way I let my friends and family.

As I suspected, Voskalar was in fact the young brown-bronze dragon I had once sent to Korvarak's land after convincing the local guard not to execute him. At the time he'd scarcely spoken a word of any human language and had been so terrified he'd nearly pissed his scales. Granted back then he'd barely even been into the early stages of draconic adolescence. He was a little larger now, and growing nicely into his own body. His scales had taken on a lovely luster, a mixture of rich earth browns and burnished bronze. He was still the smallest of our group, and judging by his extra lean build, I imagined he always would be. That also meant he was likely a very fast flyer, perhaps even faster than Kylaryn. His own still-growing horns had a bit of a twist to them, and his central spined crest seemed a bit outsized compared to the two behind his frilled ears. His eyes shone like copper coins in the sun.

When Voskalar had first arrived, he stuck very close to Korvarak. I could not tell if he was simply nervous about being around so many humans, or if he was unusually shy. Perhaps a bit of both. Shyness was not a common trait to dragons, but it was not entirely unheard of. It could also be instinctual to some dragons, especially those of a lineage used to smaller size and wilder lives. To a small dragon with little land to claim as his own, venturing into previously claimed territory could be quite dangerous. It was probably only natural for him to want to avoid getting too close to larger dragons until he was sure they meant no harm.

I made a show of guiding him and Korvarak around the town while Amaleen was occupied with meetings. I hoped to get him used to the place. I was also hoping to get the people of Sigil Stones used to the idea of multiple dragons walking their roads and swooping through their sky. The first couple of days Voskalar stuck so close to Korvarak I half expected the little bronze-brown male to accidentally get knocked over each time Korvarak turned around. I also found myself wondering if the jokes we made about Korvarak's curiosity in other males had taken on some basis in reality.

"You two certainly seem close," I said to the other two males, with just a hint of playful suggestion in my tone.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Korvarak said as though genuinely confused. Voskalar only gave me a blank stare.

Granted, it was certainly possible that Voskalar was just very nervous, and that Korvarak was the only one he trusted. He'd only met me once, and at the time he was afraid he was about to lose his head. Since then he'd never ventured back down from Korvarak's home higher in the mountains until now. Likely he'd never seen a human village this big before, and hadn't known any other dragons besides Korvarak. I imagined he looked up to Korvarak the same way Korvarak once looked up to me. Still, I half wondered who I would catch peeking under the other's tail first.

Day by day Voskalar relaxed a little bit. He remained a little shy around us some of the time, and more so around the humans. He, like Valar, had an aversion to the more heavily armored and armed soldiers. No doubt because of his own experience being captured by them. Voskalar was lucky it was soldiers from Sigil Stones who had caught him, rather than Illandra. At least as time went on both Valar and Voskalar gradually relaxed around the guards.

By the time we were all settled together behind Amaleen's house, reviewing the maps I'd drawn myself, Voskalar had opened up enough to join in the Valyrym-based insulting. Granted, he was probably just trying to impress Korvarak by adding onto what the green dragon had just said.

"Does Amaleen have to soap up your dainty paws every day to keep them so nice and supple, Val?" Korvarak said, flicking his tail while the two females laughed. "Never seen a dragon who could draw with ink on his claws, before."

Before I could make Korvarak look a fool by reminding him that dragons had their own books, and asking him how the hell he thought think we wrote in those, Voskalar piped up. "Yeah, soft paws like a dainty female!"

It was not a very good attempt at an insult, but Korvarak nevertheless nudged him in encouragement. While Nary and Kylaryn both peered at their own front paws as if trying to determine if they were in fact, dainty, I fixed my golden glare on the earth-toned male.

"Now listen here, Whelp." I growled at him a little, my spines flared, and he pulled his head back, copper eyes wide. "I'll take insults from my sister, my friend, the mother of my child, and my mate..." I sliced a little line through the grass with a claw for each person I ticked off, then tapped Voskalar sharply on the nose. "But I won't take them from an uppity whelp. Do that again, and I'll smack you right in the eggs."

Voskalar yelped, and swiftly covered his balls with his front paws, stammering. "S-sorry Dread Sky!"

I made him call me Dread Sky, at first. I hardly knew the young one, and I figured there may as well be some kind of initiation rite involved with his joining our little group. Voskalar, however, didn't get a fearsome sounding nickname yet. I called him whatever the hell I wanted. Usually I just called him Whelp.

Korvarak nudged him again, grinning. "You're not gonna take that from Val, are you?"

Voskalar glanced at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you stand up to him?" Korvarak tilted his head.

Voskalar flared his spines a little, and gave his friend a sheepish grin. "Cause I don't wanna get hit in the balls."

Nary and Kylaryn both started laughing. Narymiryn was quick to flick her golden-striped, spine-less tail towards me. "So then you hit him in the balls, instead!"

I hissed at my sister. "You stay out of this!"

"You stop being a bully!" She hissed right back at me.

"I am not being a bully," I assured her. As if to prove it, I soundly thumped Voskalar on the shoulder with a front paw. Perhaps too soundly as he yelped and cringed. I glanced over at him, grinning. "He's new to our group. I am merely putting him through an initiation rite until he earns my respect."

"He's here, isn't he?" Kylaryn asked.

I knew what she meant. In truth, the little whelp already had my respect. We all knew why we were gathered here. And though I hardly knew Voskalar, I was already proud of him as a fellow dragon. He had come here at our request to risk his own life in defense of his homeland. Given his seemingly skittish nature, that was probably a bit of a hard decision for him to make. Or perhaps not. Even small, shy dragons could have ferocious spirits hidden away inside.

"Yes, he is here," I said, and gave Korvarak a wicked grin. "And I'd bet he followed Korvarak closely all the way here." My smirk widened. "Enjoying the view."

Korvarak just tossed his head, huffing.

Voskalar tilted his head. "Yes, I did follow Korvarak here." My insinuation had gone so far over his head he could have flown all day and never spotted it. "The view was lovely!"

Voskalar gave me a smile so innocent I actually felt guilty when I burst out laughing. Soon Kylaryn and Narymiryn were laughing as well and even Korvarak couldn't help but join in, shaking his head. "Oh, Vos," Korva said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Sometimes you just have to keep your mouth shut."

Vos looked confused, and was soon hanging his head a little as the rest of us laughed at him. "I...I didn't mean it...like that." His muzzle was flushing nearly purple, and the inside of his frilled bronze ears even darker. He licked his nose, and forced a laugh from his muzzle.

Poor whelp seemed truly humiliated. Perhaps enough was enough. He was putting his own life in great danger to join with us, after all. I watched him a moment, inspecting his ears. I noticed that one of them had a tiny notch in it just like Korvarak's ear. Good. That meant Korvarak had carried on my own tradition of providing a sign of favor. It also meant the gesture would have meaning to Voskalar.

"Voskalar," I said, sharply enough to get his attention and to keep everyone else from laughing at him any longer. "We only tease you because you're our friend now, alright?"

Voskalar slowly nodded. He seemed uncertain, and Korvarak licked his neck a few times to reassure him. Though we might tease them, there was nothing sexual in the gesture. It was just a simple draconic gesture of comfort. Korvarak nosed Vos' neck, and then waved back towards me with a paw to make sure Voskalar was paying attention.

"Now, Voskalar. I shall introduce our little group if there are no objections?"

There were none. Voskalar already knew our names, he had heard us use them plenty of times before. But a formal introduction meant that now we would allow him to use our names, as well. It signified that we had created a friendship with him. He may have been smaller and younger, but he was going to be one of us, now.

"You already know Korvarak, of course. Or as he likes the humans to call him, The Emerald Fire." I said, pointing at him with a wingtip talon. "Korvarak is my second oldest friend, and a strong male in his own right, with a good heart. You can't go wrong modeling yourself after him."

Korvarak ducked his head a little, pinning his ears back in happy embarrassment.

I next indicated Narymiryn with my wing. She grinned, and held her head up high. She was the smaller of the two females, a good bit younger than myself. She was not as young as Voskalar, but certainly no older than Korvarak. Like most female dragons her body was much more slender and curvaceous than my own, with a plump tail and haunches that never seemed to stop swaying. I could not help but imagine she was a horrid tease to the males who were attracted to her. She shared much of my own ebony coloration, but she'd also inherited golden stripes across her limbs and tail from our mother's side of the family.

"This is my little sister, Narymiryn. We're still working on a human name for her." I smirked at her. "She's a lovely thing with a golden heart, but she'll tease you out of your sheath and walk off laughing if you let her."

Nary glared at me, but did not dispute that fact. From the way Voskalar was soon grinning like an idiot, his lightly spined tail sweeping at the grass, it was clear he did not seem to mind that idea. If there was any truth to the rumors we'd created about him and Korvarak, the young dragon clearly didn't limit himself to his green friend.

"Ah, you like her do you?" I said, unable to help but take a chance to embarrass several dragons all at once. "Perhaps if you ask nicely Korvarak will share."

Voskalar gave a little gasp and turned his head to look at Korvarak with wide eyes. Korvarak gulped, then laughed and grinned sheepishly over at Narymiryn, who was now trying to glare at every male dragon all at the same time.

"I hardly claim to control her," Korvarak finally said as if trying to smooth things over.

"Then you won't mind if she teaches Voskalar how to mate."

Voskalar gasped and ducked his head, covering himself with a wing. The wing didn't cover up the sound of his sudden, brief purr, though. I patted him lightly on the back. "There, there. You don't want to come across as too eager."

Narymiryn hissed at me. "I'm going to bite you, Val. Repeatedly."

"Moving along, then," I said, smirking at my sister. I turned my attention to the blue scaled beauty sitting directly across from me. Kylaryn's body was mostly a pale, almost sky blue, with darker indigo all along her back, and across her wings. Her own eyes shone like silver moonlight as she glared at me, daring me to say something embarrassing about her.

"This is Kylaryn, my oldest friend. Or, as she's chosen to have the humans call her, The Cerulean Fury. She and I grew up as close friends, and as you know we eventually had our child together." I tilted my head, grinning at her. "And if Korvarak doesn't want to share Nary, perhaps Kylaryn would like to have a little fun with you. I can tell you from experience she's quite good with her muzzle."

"And this is Valyrym," Kylaryn snapped, thumping her tail soundly against the grass. "Who's about to get his balls squeezed flat!"

Voskalar had soon recovered from his embarrassment, and found himself laughing. "You all are very...playful together, aren't you."

"That's one way to put it," Kylaryn said, her silver eyes narrowed at me. Her threats were rarely idle, so I kept an eye on her.

"Now, now, Kylaryn." I flared out my own spines. Then I spread my wings as if to remind her that not only was I bigger than her, but I had a history of besting her time and again. "We have more important things to discuss then how many times I've bested you in combat."

"You're right," Kylaryn said. She lifted a front paw and licked it as nonchalantly as possible. Then she smoothly added, "I'll just get you when you're asleep."

"Oooooh," Korvarak groaned in sympathy, then laughed. "That's gonna hurt!"

"It will hurt more when I hold her nose down in an ant pile," I said with a chuckle.

"I'll stick your ba-" was as far as she got before Valar came bounding around the corner to see what everyone was doing.

"I wanna play too!" Valar squealed as he ran towards us, stitches apparently be damned. Given the addition of Voskalar, this was the most dragons he'd ever seen at once so I can't say I surprised he wanted to play with all of us all the time.

"We're not playing, Valar," I said, moving to scoop him up. "And you're not supposed to be running around that way!"

Valar darted just out of my grasp, giggling to himself. "You can't catch me!"

Unfortunately for Valar, his attempt to evade my grasp caused him to run straight into Voskalar's haunches. The bronze-brown dragon acted quickly and scooped up Valar in his paws, beaming at him. "Hello Little One!"

Valar hung limply in Voskalar's grasp, staring at him. Valar's eyes were wide as the frosted cakes we had come to love. It looked as though he just couldn't believe this new dragon dared to pick up Valaranyx, Mighty Emperor of Sigil Stones. Voskalar soon pulled Valar up to his face, intent on nosing the little hatchling.

"Hello, there," he said. No one had a chance to warn him against doing that before Valar lashed out and swatted Voskalar soundly on the nose. The slap rang out and Voskalar gave a sharp yelp, jerking his head back. "OW!"

"I'm the King!" Valar proclaimed himself, his blue tipped tail swishing in the air. "I win!"

I reached over and took Valar from Voskalar. I tried not to laugh, and failed miserably as Vos cupped his nose in a paw, looking shocked. "Sorry. Forgot to tell you he's a habit of swatting other dragons on the nose."

"He doesn't swat me on the nose," Kylaryn reminded me, her voice tinted with oily smugness.

"Or me," Narymiryn chimed in.

"I'd never hit Mother or Aunt Nary!" Valar said in defense of his own innocence.

I hugged him against my scales a moment, glancing at Vosk. "Apparently he only hits males."

"It's because he knows you're soft on him," Kylaryn said, smiling. "And he knows he can hit Korvarak and Voskalar because you won't let them strike him back."

I glanced around at the others, my fangs glinting in the sunlight as I grinned. "He has a point." I set Valar back down on the grass when he began to wriggle to his feet. I clutched his tail so he couldn't run off again. The tiny little undeveloped nubs of his future spines pressed against my paw pad. "But Valar, it's not nice to hit people. Especially on the nose. Tell Voskalar you're sorry."

Valar huffed but soon craned his head back and peered up at Voskalar. "I'm sorry, Voskargle."

Voskalar blinked down at him, cocking his head and perking his ears a little. "Umm...thanks."

"Don't mind him," I said, grinning. "He enjoys mangling people's names. Encouraging him only makes it worse." I turned my head and gazed around the garden. "Speaking of which, where's Argleblarp?"

"I runned away to see everyone!" Valar giggled, apparently proud of himself for ditching Amaleen.

It wasn't too long before Amaleen came around the back of her garden as well. She wore a single piece dark green dress with black threading along the sleeves, and had her hair tied back behind her head with matching green ribbons. She tied her hair back that way a lot lately. I rather liked it, as it let the beautiful, slightly sharp features of her face shine all the more brightly. Still, nothing in the world could outshine the brilliant blue of her sparkling eyes. She huffed and puffed as she walked up towards the group of dragons.

"There you are, you little scamp," she said, trying to catch her breath.

"Hi, Argleblarp!" Valar said as if he hadn't done anything wrong. He tried to go and greet her, but couldn't escape my grasp upon his finely scaled tail.

"Sorry, Val," Amaleen said, walking up behind me. She took a seat upon the base of my tail, grinning. "I let him go off on his own for one moment, and the next thing I knew, he'd bolted away from me. I honestly didn't think he could go so fast with the stitches in." She stroked my tail gently, looking up at me. "I'm really sorry."

"Nonsense," I said, grinning at her. "If anyone should apologize it's Valar. At least that means he's probably feeling better, right? Perhaps we can do what we'd talked about soon."

I was referring to the removal of Val's stitches, but I didn't want him to know that. Amaleen smiled and nodded. "I think we can, yes."

"Wonderful." I turned my attention to Kylaryn, I'd already told her that we could free Valar from his sinewy bonds soon. "We usually celebrate his hatching in the middle of autumn. We try to have things prepared for him, so that by the time the first snow falls, if we haven't already celebrated it yet, we can do so them."

Valar gasped as he started to catch on. "Hatch Day? Is it Hatch Day?" He bounced upon his paws, chirping happily. "Hatch Day, Hatch Day."

"Not yet, Valar, not yet." I laughed. "Soon. When the snow falls, I think."

It was an idea that had been creeping up in my head for a while. Valar loved to play in the snow. Kylaryn and I had often begun our celebration of his hatching with the first snowfall of late autumn, but in truth that was often just because we hadn't gotten around to celebrating before then. After all, we did not know the exact day on which he'd hatched, only that it happened in the pouring silver rains of the fall. While the rain fell throughout much of the autumn, the snows came much later in the season. The first snowfall signaled that winter was almost here. It was always a memorable day, and as much as Valar loved the snow, it seemed the perfect way to celebration his hatching.

"The first snowfall, then," Kylaryn said in agreement.

"I don't think it will be long," I replied, licking my nose. "There's a bit of snow on the far peaks already, and I've been smelling ice in the air for some time, now."

"It had better hold off until we return," Kylaryn hissed, peering at the sky as if she was ready to go and challenge the weather itself to a fight.

"It will," I assured her, though I had no way to be certain. "We should only be gone a few days, at most."

"How do you know?"

"That's what we are here to discuss." I glanced around at all the other dragons. "You know, I convened us all here to plan out first mission, and so far all we've done is insult each other, and welcome Voskalar to our group."

"We've had a look at your maps," Voskalar offered, trying to be helpful.

Amaleen got up off my tail to go and peer at my maps. "Is this what you've been drawing lately?"

"Yes, it is," I said. "These are basically the same maps I helped Namar assemble the other day, however these are designed to be more of use to dragons than men."

"These are really good maps," Amaleen said, smiling at me. She ran her fingers across the thick, sturdy parchment and the heavy black ink lines I'd so carefully scribed with my claws. "I'm amazed how well you can draw with your claws without cutting too far through this parchment."

"It takes a delicate touch," I told her, grinning.

"He has dainty paws," Korvarak said with a smirk.

"And you've tiny balls and haunches like a female," I snapped back at him.

Voskalar burst out laughing until Korvarak glared at him and muttered under his breath. I grinned at him.

Soon enough, we fell into serious business. I began to point things out on the map. Locations of brigades of men, and a few places they had erected watchtowers to look over their forward camp. Places I had spotted divisions of archers. Hills low enough for human soldiers to clamber over, and rises that far too steep and rocky for them to easily traverse. And just recently I had added something new to this map. Places that we would strike first.

War was upon us, and I intended to strike the first heavy blow for the army of Aran'alia.

I'd been planning it for weeks. After my body had recovered from the poisoning, I began to fly scouting missions. Though Sigil Stones had plenty of scouts of their own, I wanted to see things for myself. And as much as it pained me to have to do it, it was also a way to get Valar used to the idea of spending a few days without any other dragons. He'd spent time without Kylaryn and without me, but he'd never truly been without another dragon before. I knew Amaleen would take good care of him, and the sooner he got used to the idea the easier it would be on him.

My first look at the enemy encampment was chilling. Kylaryn was right, our people were greatly outnumbered. There must have been ten thousand men camped across the lands, and they were already deeper inside Aran'alia than I had realized. With my wings I could reach their most forward camps within a day or two, and return just as swiftly.

It troubled me to see so many men so deep within Aran'alia. Clearly, they had already established more of a foothold than I'd realized. While I had been busy caring for my son during his recovery, our enemies had been busy marching. The camps and heavy smoke I'd seen months before, shortly before Valar was hurt had moved ever closer. Their presence also meant that the larger cities along the far border had already fallen to Illandra. In an unexpected way it troubled me to think I'd never get to visit the city of Lavia. Lenira once told me that city had orchard upon orchard of golden-spotted apples, and now I could only hope those orchards had not been burned to the ground.

I was of two minds about the conquest of Lavia. Part of me hoped they had put up a great battle, and whittled down the numbers of Illandran troops before finally succumbing to their enemies' superior ranks. After all that would leave us with far fewer Illandran troops to deal with in the long run. However, another part of me hoped they had quietly surrendered without a fight in order to avoid the assured destruction of their city. I knew that Lavia lay across a river from a country that had once been called Vurnel. Now, Vurnel was now just another trophy wrapped in Illandra's ever lengthening grasp.

That was the fate I intended to spare Aran'alia from.

I suspected even if Lavia put up a fight, the Illandran army would find conquering the rest of Aran'alia a far more daunting task. After all, Aran'alia was a vast, rugged, and wide land. It had taken their army months of marching to come within reach of my own lands. And even the extensive sprawl that contained the six cities I protected was but a single scale upon Aran'alia's massive hide. Though we did not have numbers to our advantage, we had the land itself. I had every intention of making this army stretch itself far too thin to ever sustain an invasion. Let them bog down in the mud. Let them freeze in the snows. Let them grow lost in the mountains. Let them starve when they found their supply lines cut. Let them drown when they were backed up to the rivers and found the bridged burned.

Namar and I had plans, and they all began tonight. This would not be an easy war, and our victory was hardly assured. But I would die before I let them take my home from my grasp and force my son to flee to some far flung land too hostile even for dragons just because it was the only place humans could not reach him.

If the soldiers of Illandra wanted this land, we would bury them in it.

Our first objectives were to ensure they did not move any closer. Their once steady advance had slowed considerably. Laden with supplies and marching on foot across a rugged landscape, through thick forests and over rocky hills, progress was hard for them to accomplish. My road was hardly large enough to support such an army, so they had spread out on either side of it, attempting to use the flatter meadow area to avoid some of the rougher terrain. Yet the meadow was only so wide and they were forced to either spread their army thin to advance across a wider portion of terrain or lengthen it considerably to try and stick to the meadow while they could.

I was not good at measuring the distance upon the ground. I measured things in wing beats and days of flight. But what took me two days to fly two, I suspected would take at least two weeks of steady, hard marching across flat ground for the average soldier. For a convoy of this size across hard ground I doubted they could make Sigil Stones within a month, at the least. And if we could hold them off a little while longer the weather would turn and keep them at bay all winter long.

To attack them now was my idea. According to Namar, tt was hardest to wage a war in the winter, and an experienced army would know that well. The men who had marched closest to us were an advance force likely designed to hold territory over the winter and built a more fortified position there. Then when spring rolled around, they would use that position to launch their attacks. It seemed they realized if they advanced much further, they'd be caught awfully far from their shelter and supplies when the snows came. Instead it seemed they planned to fortify their positions throughout the coldest months.

They'd already had a chance to establish some well guarded and well maintained supply routes. I was sure they'd been stockpiling rations and supplies for the coming winter. The Illandrans might not be used to lasting through the heavy winters that Aran'alia suffered, but surely they knew our armies would not be marching through the snowy hills any more effectively than they would. What they didn't know was that all winter long, they'd have dragons wreaking havoc on their camps.

All winter long my war council and I would bring hell to visit them.

We went over my plans through the evening. They were simple enough, and I hoped they would be effective. I wanted the first blow we struck against the forward division of their army to be a painful one. They had to know just how deeply our claws could cut them, and that we could strike them without warning whenever we wished. We would leave first thing in the morning, and by middle of the following night, I hoped to be burning something down. Our three priorities were simple enough. Do as much damage as possible, cause as much fear as possible, and return each and every dragon home alive.

Fear was tantamount, I thought. One battle alone could not turn the tide of this war. But I hoped with a small army of dragons, we could do enough damage and cause enough carnage to drive fear deep into the hearts of the invaders. The officers and the battle hardened veterans would not be easily cowed. Yet it was Namar's theory that many of their men were simple conscripts. If we could break the morale of those men before they'd even had their first engagement with Aran'alia's own men, we would have gone a long way towards a victory.

After all, my goal was not to wipe out this army. Even I was not sure we could do that. Rather, my goal was to bleed them dry, and force them to return to their own lands. I wanted to haunt the nightmares of each and every man who came here to steal our home. I wanted the survivors to wake up trembling, so fearful of this land that they would never again consider returning. If we could accomplish that, Aran'alia would be safe for a very long time.

I named my plan Death In The Night.

When we'd gone over the details, I made a show of having Voskalar lower his head. Then I nipped his ear sharply, notching it. He yelped in pain, but when he lifted his head he was beaming. He seemed quite proud of himself to have been accepted by our group. He also seemed equally proud to have not one, but two notched ears.

I doubt anyone slept easily that night. Amaleen and I certainly did not. She was worried for my safety, and I could not blame her. She had already seen me with one paw in the pyre, and she never wanted to see that again. Time and again she asked me if I'd been taking my bluecap lately, despite the fact she had seen me eat it each and every day. We'd all been eating it. Narymiryn and Voskalar had not yet eaten as much as the rest of us, but with any luck that wouldn't matter. I did what I could to reassure her, telling her this was only going to be a brief skirmish. Get in, kill people, burn things, get out. We'd be home in a few days.

My reassurances seemed to comfort her a little, but that didn't stop her from spending the whole night holding my head tightly to her body. She stroked my neck, and I did eventually fall asleep for a few hours. I doubt Amaleen got even a single moment of slumber. But that was alright, she could always get some rest after we'd left. Or perhaps not, given that she'd likely have her hands full taking care of Valar.

In the morning, cold rain awoke me. Heavy, wet silver droplets splattered my nose, and I jerked my head up from the ground to gaze at the sky. Roiling gray clouds churned above us, fat and swollen with rain like the belly of some pregnant monster. I pushed myself to my paws, and shook my body, instinctively shielding Amaleen with an ebony wing. Glancing around, I saw the cold rain waking the others as well. Kylaryn was soon keeping Valar dry beneath her own wing, and ushering him towards Amaleen's back porch.

"Rainy, rainy, rainy, rainy," Valar half chirped, half sang to no one in particular. "Wanna play in the rain!"

"No, Valar," Kylaryn said firmly. "It's too cold. And you can't get your bandages wet. Amaleen has her work cut out for her watching over you today, anyway."

Valar's mood plummeted when he was reminded we all had to leave. "Noooo," he whined, nuzzling his mothers paw and then clinging to her front leg. "Stay!"

I padded over alongside my mate, working to keep Amaleen dry beneath my wing until she could slip under the roof of her porch and into her home. "We have to go, Valar," I said, lowering my head to nuzzle him. He started to cry a little, flopping onto his belly. "We'll be back soon, I promise."

"Nooooooooo!" Valar wailed. He stretched his front legs out, trying to cling to both his mother and me at the same time.

My heart ached for him. I didn't want to leave him. I knew he'd be alright once we were gone, and Amaleen was distracting him, but it was going to be a painful separation anyway. Soon Kylaryn and I were both murmuring to him that it was going to be alright. That we'd be back soon. It took about ten minutes of cooing and coaxing to get him to relax, and sullenly agree to be a "strong dragon" while we were away.

Amaleen returned bearing something bundled in her grasp. She gave me a shy little smile, and I found myself returning it, wondering just what she had in store for me this time. "I've been sewing something for you," she said softly, beginning to unroll whatever it was. "I'm not as good as Lenira was, but I've done my best."

"What have you made, Amaleen?" I said, smiling and pulling my head back.

By now the other dragons were curious as well. The attention seemed to embarrass her a bit, and she gazed around at everyone before explaining. "You can't go into war without a banner right? So...I made you a banner. I mean...I made...Val a banner. He's your leader. At least, I assume he is..."

I grinned at her, rising the spines behind my ears. "You're cute when you're flustered, Amaleen. Let me see it."

Amaleen might have imagined this to be a more private sort of unveiling, just for me. But she forced herself to finish unfurling her large handmade banner just the same. It held a dark blue and black background upon it, the colors of Sigil Stones. Upon it was a heraldic shield edged in bright gold, the color of my eyes. And upon the shield was a fearsome looking outline of an ebony dragon, vast wings spread across the sky. Above the shield in silver lettering it read, Fear The Dread Sky. Beneath the shield and dragon, more silver script spelled out, Aran'alia Lives Free.

My heart welled up with love and pride, my eyes grew wet. "It is beautiful, Amaleen." Even now, she continued to surprise me with something wonderful at every turn. "I shall bear it with great pride."

"That really is lovely," Narymiryn said, smiling through the rain at us. The other dragons all added their agreement.

Even Valar had ceased his tears for the moment, staring with wide eyes at the banner. Soon he rose back to his feet, padded to Amaleen, and grabbed the corner of the banner. "That's mine."

Amaleen beamed her delight at everyone's reaction. She gently eased the banner away from Valar, then quickly walked over to me before he could grasp at it again. Standing in the silver rain, Amaleen rolled the top corners up a little bit, and deftly tied them around the back of my neck so that the banner would hang down across my chest. I looked down at it, stroked it with a paw, and smiled. Then I reached out and pulled her tightly against the plates of my chest to hug her a moment.

"It's the best I could do, so far," Amaleen said. "I wanted to better secure it to you but I hadn't gotten that far yet."

"It's perfect," I assured her.

Amaleen reached out for my head, and I lowered it to her hands. She pulled it to her face and kissed me on the nose. "Come back to me safe."

"I shall do my very best."

Kylaryn and I said goodbye to Valar, each of us fighting our own tears in the process. It felt as though we were going to be gone for years. Amaleen eventually took Valar in her arms. As Amaleen cried a little herself, she took Valar into her house so that he wouldn't have to watch us leave. I whispered a goodbye to my son, and another to Amaleen, and took a last look around at my war council. My soldiers. I took a deep breath, and roared to the skies. They all roared with me.

Together, we ascended to war.

---

Chapter Six

Sheets of silver washed across us as we swept across the land. I did not mind the rain. It would make the hills soggy and impassable for an army, but would do nothing to a dragon save cover the sound of his wing beats. We might complain about the chill of the rain, but we all knew it would help keep us hidden. The exertion of flight would keep us warm, anyway.

We flew all day, stopping only twice. In a hidden valley well outside of town, a group of humans waited for us with a cartful of heavy barrels. We stopped and each dragon took one of those barrels in their front paws before we ascended once more. I had a little surprise in store for our enemies, and I'd made certain that we all practiced the maneuver I had in mind. It was dangerous, but I was confident we'd all handle it just fine.

The only other stop we made before reaching our destination was to hunt some lunch. It was nice to set those barrels down a while as we filled our bellies. Our aching forelegs needed a rest. While we were used to flying long distances we certainly weren't used to carrying something the entire time. Yet if it worked as I'd imagined it, it would make the discomfort more than worthwhile. After our lunch, we returned to the skies, slicing our way through the silvery curtains of rain.

The longer we flew, the heavier the rain became. The clouds draped themselves lower and lower, until fingers of mist were swirling around the spiky stone outcropping that dotted the emerald hills we soared above. As we drew nearer our destination we all flew low to the ground. The clouds, rain, and ghostly mists would keep us obscured, but if we flew too high they might also cause us to overshoot our destination. I had picked out an excellent spot to lay in wait for the deepest part of night to set in before we undertook our attack.

As we flew, we ended up flying in formation without ever really discussing it. We certainly hadn't practiced such a thing. But if dragons had ever waged war as an organized group before, I imagined they might have done it our way. Without ever putting such words to it, I found myself the leader of our flight. After all it was my idea to bring us together to fight for our lands and our families and friends in the first place. And it was my plan we were enacting, my town we had settled in, and my human companions whose army we were now assisting.

As I flew the other four dragons fell in on either side of me. Kylaryn and Narymiryn flew to my left, with Korvarak and Voskalar to my right. Without ever giving each other directions we had taken up a sort of staggered V-shaped formation. We had formed the point of a spear, and I was its sharpened tip ready to drive us into the heart of our enemy.

I had chosen a spot for us on a particularly high, heavily forested hill. While many of the hills that spanned much of Aran'alia held either forest, or spires of stone, this hill held both. The jagged stone rises were like gray sentinels standing amidst the many trees. Many of the trees were ancient oaks with canopies that spanned a greater distance than a dragon's wings. Here and there the oaks were interspersed with equally impressive willows who's own naturally drooping boughs were weighed down further by the heavy rains. By now, both oak and willow were colored by autumn, and the downpour did little to diminish the vibrant slashes of yellow and red.

Though it was unlikely anyone could hear us, we all kept our voices low as we huddled beneath one of the taller, more sheltering willow trees. As we waited for the darkest part of the night the other dragons all wanted a look at my banner. Each had a turn to both praise the banner itself, and insult me for wearing it. Apparently despite the fact it was quite a beautiful thing that portrayed me in an appropriately frightening light, I was still soft-hearted for wearing it.

Did I look like I was wearing a bib? I've no idea what that means, Alia.

Voskalar prowled around the hilltop a little bit while nighttime settled in. He hadn't spent much time exploring these lands, and as many youthful dragons were, he seemed almost infinitely curious about every sight and scent he came across. I imagine exploring the terrain helped keep his mind off his nervousness as well.

Truthfully, Voskalar was not the only one who was anxious. My own belly had long ago worked itself into more knots than I could count on both paws. I could not help but feel responsible for the lives of the other four dragons with me. To say nothing of worrying about what would happen to Amaleen and my son should I fall in battle. I had fought many humans before, but never in this number.

Another part of me felt an unexpected amount of pity for the humans who were going to die tonight. I had killed their kind many times yet never had I had such a long time to ponder my actions before I actually committed them. Even revenge for my son's wounds occurred only days after the attack. The men I was going to kill tonight though, I had been thinking about their deaths for a long time now. I wondered if it was true that many of them were conscripts. I hoped that it was as I imagined their spirit would be far easier to break than a truly professional soldier. And yet, it was pitiable, in a way, that they had to die. It was not their choice to come to this land, that decision had been forced upon them. Yet such was the egg from which they hatched and the wind that carried them.

Perhaps that is a saying that means more to a dragon. It simply means we cannot choose when we come into this world, nor can we decide the circumstances of our being. We can only hope to find a way in which to survive it. Sometimes, the way of the world was cold and cruel. A hatchling might come into the world all alone, might starve to death before he ever truly tastes life. The wind that carries us aloft can hurl us against the ground just the same. I could not worry about the life in which these men lived; it was not my fault they may be fighting a war against their will. I could only worry about the lives of my friends and loved ones. If I was forced to take lives to defend those I cared about, so be it.

"What's this symbol mean?" Voskalar sniffed at a spire of gray rock jutting from the stone. Yellowish lichen marked it here and there with uneven blotches.

I decided to go and see it. After all, I was probably the only one who would actually recognize some of the sigils the Aran'alians carved in the stones. If nothing else, it would get my mind off the coming task for a little while longer. I padded across the wet grass and over the hilltop towards the younger dragon. I peered down at the sigil carved ages ago. It was a familiar enough mark to me. Several circles, a four pointed star, arched lines radiating outward.

"It means freedom," I explained. I could have drawn that symbol in my sleep by now. "And this one means love." I gestured to the series of curved arches inside a diamond shape. I knew that one by heart, as well. "This one I'm not sure about. It is too faded."

"Why would they put that in the stone?" Voskalar asked, tilting his earth toned head. In the rain his scales held a slick sheen that made him look as though he were carved from brown topaz and gleaming bronze. "All the way out here?"

"The Aran'alians like to carve things in place that mean something to them," I said, looking around the area. "I think the carvings here likely meant something along the lines of, For The Love Of Freedom."

Voskalar gave me a very sincere smile. "That sounds quite appropriate."

"Yes," I said, smiling back at him. "It does."

I followed him around the hilltop a little while the other dragons huddled beneath the massive willow tree, trying to stay a bit dry. It seemed a foolish attempt to me. Silver droplets fell from the willow boughs and ran down their scales in mercury trickles anyway. As Voskalar and I padded about in the rain, he asked me about a few more sigils he spotted. When I knew the meaning I explained it to him. When I didn't know the meaning, I made one up and gave it to him as my theory. After all, if Amaleen and Asgir could spout half cocked theories, why couldn't I do the same?

"I believe that this one means the sky," I said, gesturing to a series of long, stretched out lines. "Or, perhaps a river."

"And this one?" Voskalar flexed his wing, brushing another symbol with one of his vestigial talons.

I peered at the image through the rain. It looked to have several figures all clustered together, against each other. "Ah. I believe that symbols means mating. Or perhaps an orgy of dragons!"

Voskalar burst out laughing, his spined tail swishing a little.

From behind me, Kylaryn's voice sent my ears pinned back in humiliation. "You wish that's what it meant."

I grinned back at her. "A dragon can dream, can he not?"

"You can dream all you want," Kylaryn said, nipping at my neck as she came up alongside me. "The four of us may go and have a pre-battle romp together. You can stay up here on your hill, and dream of your human girl."

I laughed, flaring my spines and snapping my jaws at her. "I'd not want an orgy with this group anyway. One of the females is related to me, and Korvarak's uglier than a inbred Urd'thin."

"I heard that!" Korvarak called out to me. From the way Nary was laughing at him, she must have heard it too.

Nary raised her voice to join in. "Actually, I think Korvarak's the one who's inbred. Why do you think he wears that funny wooden mitten on his paw?"

"It's a splint!" Korvarak hissed at her.

That had even Voskalar laughing. Korvarak yelled at him as well. "You shut up, Whelp!"

Korvarak should have expected as much. Though his paw was healing well he was still wearing a splint on it, and would for a little while longer. At first Nary and I did not even wish him to fight until it was completely healed. But Korvarak was as stubborn as the rest of us. In the end, we compromised. Korvarak got to fight alongside us, and we got to tease him incessantly about the ugly contraption on his paw.

"I had an idea," Kylaryn said, when our laughter subsided. "I hesitate to mention it, as it is the sort of idea you and your humans normally come up with. In fact, it's inspired by you."

"Oh?" I pulled my head back, a little surprised. I flared my perked my ears and raised my eye ridges in interest. "By all means, let me hear it."

"I heard you tell Vos what the symbol meant." Kylaryn flicked her tail towards the Freedom symbol. "You said you and Amaleen carved your names near a symbol, right?"

"The symbol for love, yes."

"Then we should all carve our names here." Kylaryn looked away, as if embarrassed to admit such a thing. "In...the human tongue. You could...show us how, right?"

"I could, yes," I replied, my voice soft. If Kylaryn was serious it was a gesture I'd never have expected from her. It would mean she too had begun to experience a fundamental shift in her thinking. Perhaps, knowing Amaleen saved her son and seeing how the people of Sigil Stones accepted him, she was starting to come around just like I had.

As if trying to cut off that notion, she snapped at me. "Only because I want proper credit and respect! If I am to risk my life for these useless humans, they had damn well better know it was a dragon who saved their sorry asses."

A smirk slowly spread across my muzzle. Kylaryn was starting to see the truth of things. Kylaryn was starting to accept that not all humans were evil. She'd never admit it in such a way of course. Yet asking me to show her how to scribe her name, in their tongue, was the closest she'd ever come to admitting that I was right.

"Of course, Kylaryn," I said, nosing her cheek with a smile. "I think that is a fantastic idea."

One by one, I had each dragon come to the stone with the symbols for Freedom and Love. I could not think of a better place for us to carve our names than a monument dedicated to the love of freedom. No one else knew how to read or write the letters that made up the human tongue so I taught them each how to spell their own name. Once, Amaleen held my paw to help me scribe sigils upon Lenira's stone. Now I held each dragon's paw, and guided their claws as they cut into the monument.

Kylaryn. Korvarak. Narymiryn. Voskalar. Valyrym.

I scribed my own name last. Then I scribed their symbol for dragon, best I could. It was a simple shape, a triangle with arched lines to indicate a head, and horns, with several stylized wings drawn beyond it. Beneath that, I added another phrase in their own tongue. It took me a little while to carve it all but it no one spoke against it.

We shall protect you, for this is our home too.

When it was done, I took a step back and admired our work. My heart felt strangely swollen with pride, and that same pride caused me to puff out my chest plats and flare my wings as I saw all our names right there in the open. Something we would have once kept hidden deeply within ourselves was now bared so completely for all to see. The names of five dragons, given freely to the humans we now sought to protect.

For a while, we were silent. The sounds of rain pattering against our scales and against the trees and grass and stone was heavy and ever present. It was quite dark out now, we had spent a while with our carvings. The darkness would hide us from their eyes, and the rain would conceal us from their ears. They would not know they were under attack until we were already upon them. I slowly peered at each dragon, looking deep into their eyes. Eyes of silver, pale amber, copper and gold all stared at back at me. They were as ready as I was.

"It is time."

---

We hurtled through lashing curtains of silvery rain, our target in sight. Through the gloom and driving rain, I saw the watchtowers first. Torches flickered beneath their sheltering roofs like the eye of some skeletal giant looming in the darkness. With the sounds of our wings covered by the downpour, they never heard us coming. Between wing beats I snapped my wings straight out, gliding. The signal given, Korvarak and Kylaryn darted away from our formation. We gave no roar to announce our presence. The beginning of our assault was signaled only by the sudden bursts of red-orange fire that briefly illuminated the rain-filled sky as two watchtowers were bathed in flame.

Beneath their recently constructed roof, the inside of the watchtower was dry, and the wood floor and railing ignited in an instant. So did the sentries standing watch. One of them screamed and toppled over the railing. He plunged to the earth like a fiery meteor, a trail of fire and embers in his wake. Only the impact with the wet ground silenced his scream. Soon the two watchtowers at the front of their camp blazed like massive torches. The firelight caused all the rain cascading over them to shine with an eerie, orange glow.

Down below men cried out in fear, while other men began to bark orders. People ran towards the burning towers. A few brave or foolish men even attempted to scale the scaffolding around the base of the watchtowers, intent on trying to rescue the men likely already burned to death at the summit. Archers took aim at flickering shapes in the darkness, firing at shadows.

The five of us were already past the towers, and heading to our real targets. Kylaryn and Korvarak had simply blasted them with flame on their way. It served as both a distraction and a way to limit the amount of arrows slung at us from an elevated position. There are further watchtowers towards the back of the camp, and we would deal with them soon enough.

For now, we each had a target pre-selected. We had poured over my maps for just this reason. I'd scouted this place enough to know where to send each of my kin to inflict the maximum amount of damage. When each of us had attacked our targets, we would move onto secondary objectives, and when that was completed, we could get the hell out of there.

My target was the commander's tent for this forward base. It served as both a personal quarters for the commander of this particular camp, and also a place where he held meetings with his officers. With any luck, the commander himself would be in there fast asleep. I doubted the officers were there, but Korvarak's target was another group of tents where the officers themselves had their quarters.

The tent itself was a large structure of gray canvas supported by a variety of ropes and poles. A simple thing, but easy to put up in an afternoon, and sturdy enough to withstand the rain and winds that often affected this part of the land. Banners of blue and gray marked every corner of the tent, whipping around in the driving rain. A much larger flag flew from the very top of the tent, complete with their five-towered keep emblazoned upon its blue and gray fabric.

Lanterns shielded from the rain by glass enclosures hung from curved wrought iron poles in front of the tent. In the faint orange light they shed I could see several heavily armored guards standing watch. Rivulets of rain left glowing trails all down the plates of their armor as they caught the lantern light. Thick grey cloaks were sodden and clung to their backs as if seeking comfort from the men who wore them.

By the time the soldiers could see me diving towards them it was already far too late. At the bottom of my dive, I flared my wings and began to swoop right back up. At the same time, I hurled the barrel I'd been carefully clutching in my paws towards the center of the tent. Just as it fell away from me, I unleashed the largest gout of fire I could manage. The barrel instantly ignited, and no sooner had it crashed into the top of the tent then it blew apart with a concussive blast. Fire exploded in all directions, inundating the tent with flame that the rain would not easily extinguish.

The barrels were a little trick I had put together with Namar's help. I already knew from a dangerous accident in my younger days that extremely strong spirits such as rum and whisky could be quite flammable. I also knew from a separate but equally dangerous youthful accident that the oil used in human lamps was just as flammable, and much harder to extinguish. So, I'd had a few barrels filled up for us with a mixture of each. Mostly the spirits as those were easy to come by, and according to the humans even the fumes could be quite explosive. I'd also had Namar mix in enough of the lamp oil to make sure the stuff would keep burning for a while even in the rain. The five of us had practiced for a few days with barrels filled with water to ensure we were able to throw them from the air and hit them with our fire from a safe distance. We'd brought five barrels, but I had one opened up to soak the other four to ensure they would ignite despite the ceaseless silver rain that pounded against our scales.

Screams from the command tent told me my task was accomplished. Soon, there was another loud explosion to my right as Voskalar hurled his own flaming barrel into the clustered tents of the other officers. Then another as my sister struck the area where I'd seen their archers and infantry gather at night. Kylaryn threw her own deadly cargo into the place I had identified as their food and supply storage warehouse.

Korvarak carried the half empty barrel. On the way here he was able to wrap one foreeleg lightly around it and support it with his good paw. Now that it was only half-full he clutched it tightly to his chest with his healthy forepaw. I had instructed him not to hit it with until after it had crashed to the earth. I rather doubted we had sealed it up well. While the others were exploding upon impact, I was afraid fire would cause the fumes to combust early and blow Korvarak's only good paw off.

In the distance I saw Korvarak swoop low over a group of soldiers struggling to get their armor on, and toss the barrel into their ranks. It burst upon the ground like an overripe melon, spraying the entire squadron with harsh spirits and oil. Korvarak spun in the sky and put fire to our foes before he quickly shot back towards the clouds above their writhing, screaming forms.

It seemed as though we'd lit half the camp on fire in only a matter of moments. So far, so good. I knew well enough this was only their forward most camp, with perhaps five hundred men at most. But forcing them to abandon it or at least halting their advance completely without even having to have a single Aran'alian soldier put himself in danger yet would be quite a first strike.

"Secondary targets!" I snarled, speaking in full draconic. No need to give them a chance to understand what we were saying. "Watch for archers, and keep aware of your surroundings! They will try and sneak up on you while you're engaged with others." I knew not everyone in our group had battled humans as often as I had. "Keep watch for Pike-men, their range is longer than you think!"

Each of us had a secondary target, and mine was to eliminate their command structure. With any luck I had already killed the commander himself. His tent had been turned into an inescapable inferno, but he had an entire group of officers ready to take his place. Voskalar had done plenty of damage to the officer's area and likely killed some of them as well, but I was going to do what I could to finish them off.

A few wing beats took me to the circular cluster of tents set aside from the regular army. They hadn't yet constructed a permanent barracks, everyone was just housed in tents and free standing canopies for now. As I hurtled towards the ground, I saw another armored guard dragging a man from a burning tent. I made them my next victims.

I slammed a hind paw into the armored man's back as I landed upon him with my full weight. His armor buckled beneath me, crumpling like dry leaves. His spine shattered and his heart was crushed against his breastplate. Blood gushed from his mouth. The man he'd been dragging to safety tried to scramble away from me but a single swipe of my unsheathed claws left his head hanging by a few fleshy threads. Blood sprayed the area, vanishing into silvery puddles that soon glowed orange as the flames spread.

I kept moving.

Voskalar's fire bomb had set at least half the tents on fire, and the force of the explosion had outright flattened several of them. Given how soaked they were, I was not sure how easily I could ignite the tents that weren't already burning. So I simply resorted to another tactic, the ever-reliable rampage. I charged into the first tent and brought it down upon its terrified occupant, whom I quickly trampled to death. I saw movement in another tent, and as I ran past it I lashed out with my tail. I caught whoever was inside across the head with my tail spines, splattering his skull across the shredded fabric just before the whole structure collapsed around his corpse.

I doubled back towards the burning tents. I was intent on spreading the flames but found myself facing a large group of soldiers rushing to the area to try and assistant their commanding officers. I charged at them between two canvas pyres, the heat from the flames warming my wings. Before they could effectively react I slammed my horned head into the chest of the man leading the group. He coughed blood upon me as his ribs shattered, and the force of the blow sent him toppling into another man. The rest of them spread out to bear steel at me from all sides.

They were brave men.

But bravery did not equal survival.

I whirled and spun, lashing out with everything I had in the midst of the soldier's ranks. My tail spines punched through chain mail and metal plates alike. My claws cut deeply through padded leather studded with iron. My teeth crunched through flesh and bone, rending limbs. I never stopped moving. The easiest way to for a dragon to be wounded in battle with men was to stand still a moment too long. I would not give them an easy opportunity to find a chink in my armor.

I sunk my teeth into a man's arm, then twisted on my paws. I dragged him in a half circle and smashed him into another man before his arm was finally wrenched from its moorings. I charged through a group of them, and sent another man flying with a powerful swipe of my front limb. Pivoting back towards them I caught a man at the knees with my tail, sent him to the ground crippling and screaming over his shattered legs.

Now and then blows did rain down against me, but this time luck was on my side. I saw a man swinging his sword at me and had only a second to throw a foreleg in the way. The angle of my block was perfect. My scutes did their job, deflecting the blade across my limb. My teeth found his throat before he had a chance to attack me again. Other weapons found my body occasionally, but each time they were turned away by a combination of natural armor and swift movement.

When that group of men were all either dead or screaming, I moved on. Between Korvarak and myself we had killed all the officers we could easily identify as well as a good deal of potentially elite soldiers coming to rescue them. I had accomplished my primary and secondary task, and now it was time to inflict a little more damage before we withdrew for the night.

I hoped that everyone else was having as much fun as I was.

What, Alia? Oh, did I say I was having fun? I meant success. Fun success. Well, it isn't my fault the Gods designed dragons to enjoy a good rampage now and then. Yes, I'm sure Val Junior will be quite the little rampager in his day. Why, soak him with water and throw him hard enough and I think he could leave quite the stinging mark.

I knew it wouldn't be long before the officers' area was positively plagued with this army of disease, which meant it was time to find softer targets. I leapt to the air, but only ascended a wing beat or two. I did not want to present my belly as a viable target for any archers or other bowmen who might find themselves beneath me. Sooner or later they'd be flinging their damn arrows my way, but if I stayed low enough most of them would only have my harder, thicker scales to aim at.

Even at such a low altitude I could see our assault was having the desired effect. Chaos was engulfing the entire camp. Were it not for the rain, the whole damn place might have burned down. And even with the rain, there were still quite a few fires raging where the oil and spirits had not yet burned away completely, or where they had reached other highly flammable materials.

The entire camp roared with a cacophony of sounds. Men were screaming in pain, and calling for help. Others were trying to shout orders while still more yelled to retreat. The sound of the rain was matched by the crackling of fire where the flames were not yet extinguished. Whinnies and neighs of terrified horses soon joined the wall of sound. Good, that probably meant that Voskalar had succeeded in his own secondary task. He was to raid the stables and pens were all the horses were kept and drive the animals out. With any luck he'd driven them into such a terrified stampede they would run right over their masters.

As I flew, I heard a man trying to take charge, calling out orders to anyone who would listen. A wise man who seemed to have a good grasp of the situation, and the courage to take control of it. Unfortunately for him that meant he made an excellent target of opportunity. I pivoted around in the sky, and spotted him standing upon a boulder, shouting instructions. Soaring low, I was just about eye-level with the man as I streaked towards him.

He yelled, and someone tossed a spear up to him. He drew it back and with a snarling cry, hurled it directly at my face. Clever, but not clever enough. As soon as his arm began to journey forward, I flicked my wings and darted to the side. The spear hurtled just past my body, missing me by a smaller margin than I'd hoped for. The man called for another spear, but by the time it was tossed to him I'd already taken off his head as I passed. With his head hanging from my paw his body tumbled, spurting blood. I sprayed fire at all the men around his body as I soared just above them. Those few I didn't engulf in flame took off running, and I threw the severed head after them as a parting gift.

A few arrows whizzed past me and I cringed inwardly. In the darkness I could not tell the color of the fletches. Though I knew just because the poisoned arrows were red before did not mean they would be again, I could not shake the image. Nor could I escape the memories of the pain, the fear, and the way I'd clung to Amaleen's voice. Amaleen was not here to help me now if I was poisoned, so I would have to hope eating all those bile and vomit flavored mushrooms would save my life in her stead.

Another arrow shot past me. That made three of them, and they'd all come from different directions. As irritating as that was, I hoped it meant they were only isolated archers who had spotted me as I flew near their positions. I could take a few arrows now and then, it was a concentrated and targeted volley I was worried about.

In the distance, I heard a victorious roar, and then a great cascading, crashing sound. Through the gloom, I saw one of the watchtowers at the back of the camp come crashing down. Not long after that, I caught a glimpse of my friends leaping back into the skies, firelight glinting off blue scales and golden stripes. No way I was going to let the two females hog all the tower-toppling glory.

I set my sights on the far back corner watchtower, speeding towards it. The tower was set off a little ways from the bulk of the camp, set up to keep watch over their rear flank and their supply lines. At the moment there were a few archers in the tower, and a few other soldiers in the area who were bringing them more arrows. They seemed to be taking pot shots at every dragon they saw. That suddenly included me when one of them unleashed an arrow that punched a hole through my sensitive wing membrane, sending a jolt of pain through me.

I hated archers, and I hated their damn arrows.

I was not too fond of their watchtowers, either. Coming near the wooden, skeletal looking structure, I dropped to my paws and charged. As they realized what I had in mind they fired a few more arrows in a panicked frenzy. Their haste ensured only one of them actually found me and even that bounced off the scales along my spine. I roared my fury as I reached my target, and turned my body to the side just in time to hurl myself against the base of the tower. While the tower's wooden legs, scaffolding and crossbeams might be sturdy to a human, they were not sturdy enough to withstand a charging dragon.

The first two wooden columns shattered in a shower of splinters and wooden shrapnel as I threw myself right through them. Pain blossomed along my side where the thick wooden columns broke against my body, but I was not afraid of a few bruises. The two front columns absorbed enough of my momentum as they broke to keep me from crashing all the way through the back two columns. Yet I did not need to. Robbed of balanced support, the other two columns quickly cracked and began to buckle beneath the weight of the wooden platform above them and the men upon it. Before the whole thing had a chance to fall right onto me, I scooted out from under the damaged tower. Glancing back, I lashed my tail spines into the cracked section of a remaining column, splinting it further.

That was all it could take, and the tower's enclosed platform began to fall forward. It was an excruciatingly slow fall at first as the tower almost seemed to be doubling over in pain. Then all at once the column I'd struck with my tail exploded at its weakest point, blowing sharp wooden fragments out in all directions. The wooden shrapnel hit me with enough force to tear a few more little holes in my wings. I hissed in pain, quickly moving away from the collapsing structure. The rain rinsed my wings with silvery streaks before my blood even had time collect in crimson droplets.

As soon as that column shattered, the tower's platform pitched over and toppled to the ground. The men inside screamed all the way down. Their screams ended when the platform hit the earth, the structure practically disintegrating before my eyes from the force of the impact. If anyone had survived the impact they wouldn't be in any condition to fight anymore.

I leapt back to the skies, roaring my own victory to match that of my sister and former mate. It had taken two of them to bring down a watchtower, and I'd done the same all by myself. I would have to rub that into their snouts as soon as I got the chance. Come to think of it, perhaps I should get a kill count going for myself. I hadn't had a chance to try and count how many men I slew today, but I knew the others would try and outdo me.

I decided one hundred slain soldiers seemed like a good place for a leader of dragons to start.

....I said good, Alia. I did not say accurate.

Back in the sky, I ascended a little higher than before, and pivoted in a swift circle. I wanted a chance to survey the damage we had done but did not want to expose my belly for long. The command and officer tents were smoldering ruins. The stables and pens were shattered, the animals vanished into the night. The primary camp suffered heavy damage, and the soldiers looked to have sustained fairly heavy losses. The storehouses were all burning along with their precious supplies. It looked like the females had torn down the makeshift walls and burned out all the food and gear inside. Perfect.

It was impossible to say how many men we had truly killed. Not enough in my mind, but it would have to do for now. The longer we lingered, the greater the chances one of us might get seriously injured. If one us was brought down in the middle of the camp, unable to fly, I was not sure the rest of us would be able to safely extricate them. Another quick survey told me that so far, all five of us were still flying. Bursts of flame here and there also told me we were still inflicting damage to their ranks.

That was good enough for me.

I took a deep breath, and gave a loud, trumpeting roar. To a human, it likely sounded the same as all the other noises they'd heard us make tonight. But to a dragon, it was a distinct noise. It was a jubilant sound, the kind of roar a dragon might give to an old friend across a very long distance, or use to celebrate something of great importance.

In this case, I was celebrating our first victory against our shared enemy.

The sound was also a signal that it was time to leave this place. As we had discussed, as soon as that roar was given we would ascend out of arrow range and get the hell out of here. It was my duty to give the roar, as I had lead this assault. Though should anyone else have been grievously injured and forced to retreat, they would have given a similar roar and we would have abandoned the attack to rush to their aide. As one, the five of us beat our wings, rising swiftly to vanish into the low hanging clouds that still swirled with rain yet to be shed. A few arrows whizzed after us, though it was clear they were shooting blind, and I heard no cries of pain to indicate they'd gotten lucky.

Though it was not part of our plan, an idea came to me as I rose above the camp. I took a breath, and as loud as I could, I called out in the most commonly used human tongue. "Leave this place! This is our land, our home, and we shall defend it with our lives! Go back to your own home! Return your wives, your families!" I circled above them, hidden in the clouds as I called down my warnings. "Live your lives while you can, or be buried in the land you try to steal!" I clutched a paw to my banner, glad it was still in place. I couldn't help calling its words out, as well. "Fear the Dread Sky! Aran'alia lives free!"

Finally, I stopped circling the wrecked camp, and followed after the other dragons. I called back once more.

"Aran'alia lives free!"

---

Chapter Seven

My first priority was to make sure everyone was alright. By the time we alighted on the hill where we'd carved our in names in the stones shrouded beneath the trees, the rain had lessened to a misty drizzle. We'd already decided upon that place as our gathering point after the attack, and the others landed a short time before I did. I touched down on my paws, squeezed myself up under the boughs of the massive willow and glanced around.

"Is anyone injured?" I asked, looking over each dragon carefully.

Thankfully, no one had any serious injuries. Kylaryn had escaped any visible wounds at all just as I had. Narymiryn and Voskalar both had a few minor wounds, cuts across their limbs and bodies from blades that had made it through their scales. Nothing that wouldn't heal up just fine. I told them it was only fitting they get a few scars in battle with humans. After all, Korvarak and I certainly had plenty of them. In fact Korvarak had added a few more arrows to go with his assortment of pinkish scars still dotting his green scaled body from our fight upon the road.

"You'd better not tease me about getting more arrows in me," he muttered, glaring irritably at the bolts jutting from his body. He looked as though he wanted to pull them out with his teeth.

"Of course not, Korvarak," I said, smiling. "There's nothing funny about having soft scales after all."

"I don't have soft scales!" He snapped at me.

"I suppose you only fight archers with excellent aim then," I said, still grinning. Then I softened my tone. "Let us help you get those out. It will be easier and safer than doing it yourself."

Between Narymiryn and I, we soon eased out the three new arrows that speckled his form. They all had yellow and white fletches, and I detected no odor of poison up on them beneath the scent of Korvarak's blood. Nary licked at his wounds to soothe and clean them, and he did the same for her. Voskalar watched us a moment, shifting upon his paws. I gestured to him with my head, and with a huff, Kylaryn went to lick his wounds clean as well.

When we had cared for our injuries best we could, we returned to the skies. Despite the fact we were all worn out from flying all day and fighting all night, we did not wish to linger here. So we flew a few hours longer until we were a safe distance away from the scene of the battle. The sky brightened to a cloudy gray as we flew, and it was not long before the sun was rising steadily behind us. It began to show through as the clouds thinned out a little.

By then we were passing over low but rugged mountains. I knew of a small cavern there under a rocky overhang I'd previously spotted. It was just large enough for the five of us to all crawl in together. Exhausted as well were, it was not hard for any of us to find slumber even laying against each other. I ended up with my head resting on Kylaryn's back, and someone else was half laying across me. I wasn't even sure who it was because I fell asleep too fast.

We were awake again within a few hours. We hadn't planned to sleep all day after all, because we wanted to make it back to Sigil Stones by evening. The sooner we returned, the sooner Amaleen could care for the wounds the others had received. Perhaps just as importantly, we could report our success to Namar and the others. To say nothing of my eagerness to see Amaleen and my son again.

By the time we returned to Sigil Stones, the sky was once more clear and the sun was sinking towards the horizon. The townsfolk knew why we stayed within their borders, and they knew what we had gone to do. Though my body simply wanted to curl up and sleep, I had the five of us circle the town a few times, roaring our victory. The people must have understood the gesture because it wasn't long before they were all cheering for us. Soon there so many humans cheering down below that it sounded like they were roaring back at us. Sigil Stones was roaring for dragons.

I liked that.

We all landed behind Amaleen's home once again. I immediately spotted the fact that she had very wisely fenced off her herb garden while we were away. It was only a little, white washed fence, and certainly would not keep a dragon out if they wanted to get in. But it certainly sent a message that none of the other dragons could miss. I'd been trying to tell them myself, but hopefully seeing a fence around it would send the message all the more clearly.

The message of course was, stay the hell out of my herb garden!

Poor Amaleen's back garden was looking ragged in places. Having five dragons walking about and conducting meetings behind her home was really flattening out all her lovely grass. I had done all I could to keep anyone who wandered deeper into her garden upon the trails, and as a result those simple trails were now three times as wide as before. Without knowing any better Voskalar had caught and eaten one of her fish, an act that made Amaleen furious and Valar jealous. Narymiryn had nearly upended her white trellis and accidentally pulled down one of the vines after getting her horn caught in it.

Since then I'd tried to keep the other four corralled into the wide, grassy section just beyond the Amaleen's back porch. Kylaryn and I slept back there because that was where Valar slept, but most nights Korvarak, Voskalar, and Narymiryn were good enough to find somewhere else to sleep. Sometimes a dragon slept under what I considered to be "my" apple tree. Another night Korvarak slept in the middle of the market. He hadn't intended it, but that was what happens when the local pub owners are all to happy to let a dragon sample their wares all evening long. Korvarak only awoke when the local children began poking him with sticks and the local vendors asked as politely as they could to have their space back. Other times the other dragons slept outside of town, in the hills, or back at my own home.

I landed behind Amaleen's house, scooting aside to make room for the others. Kylaryn was the next to land, and she moved up along my side. As the others touched down nearby, it was not long before my love opened the back door of her home. She beamed at me from inside, but before she could come and greet me, Valar shot past her. He sprinted straight towards his mother and me, squealing with unrestrained hatchling glee.

"MOTHER! FATHER! FATHER! MOTHER! MOTHERFATHERMOTHERFATHER!"

Since I knew he might accidentally split himself in half trying to hurl himself at both of us at once, I moved to scoop him up in my paws instead. I sat back on my haunches, hugging him to my chest. He purred and giggled and wriggled and squealed, nuzzling at my chest plates and licking at my neck. Then I passed him to Kylaryn, where he did exactly the same thing. Soon he wanted to be passed to me again, and for a few minutes Kylaryn and I just handed him back and forth. Finally we set him down on the grass and licked at him together.

Amaleen waited patiently until Valar seemed slightly less needy before she came forward. I lowered my head and she tossed her arms around my neck. My scales were dry by then but the banner she'd made me was still a little damp. She didn't seem to care, pressing herself against my chest anyway. She wore a pretty purple dress I hadn't seen before, the color of the lilac flowers she was growing in a corner of her back garden. I swear, that woman had more dresses in more colors than the rest of city's women combined.

Yes, Alia, I think your friend Kaylen would have been proud of Amaleen's wardrobe.

"Are you hurt?" Amaleen finally asked me after pulling away from what turned into an extremely long, extremely warm embrace.

"No," I said, shaking my head. I licked her cheek, then flicked my wing towards my friends and my sister. "Korvarak took a few more arrows. Narymiryn and Voskalar have a few minor cuts and things, but thankfully no one was seriously hurt."

"That's excellent news," Amaleen said with a smile. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll see to Narymiryn and Voskalar first to appraise their injuries. We already know the drill for patching up Korvarak's arrow wounds, after all." After hugging me again, Amaleen turned to head back into her home to get some supplies. Her muttered words drifted to my ears. "That dragon takes more arrows..."

"Hah!" I gave an exaggerated laugh. Korvarak just glared at me.

Amaleen soon returned bearing a blanket wrapped around all her healing supplies. As soon as she emerged, Valar turned his head. His little golden, silver flecked eyes locked onto the blanket and tracked it the whole way. The moment Amaleen set it down on the grass, Valar was off. He charged to Amaleen intent on claiming the newest blanket.

However, before he could inform her of just who the blanket belonged to, she beat him to it. Just as he skidded to a stop, Amaleen tapped him on the little blue mark at the end of his otherwise black snout. He blinked in surprise a moment, and Amaleen grinned at him, then pointed to the blanket just the way he did.

"This is mine," Amaleen told Valar.

Valar stared up at her in shock. No one had ever beaten him to a claim that way before. His eyes slowly got wider and wider as if he'd just realized it was possible for others to lay claim to something before he had the chance to do so. Finally, he huffed a tiny sigh. His little ears dropped and his tiny spined crests sagged against his head. Looking as dejected as a hatchling possibly could, he turned around and trudged back to us.

"That's Argleblarp's blanket," he said sadly, as if offering disappointed explanation of why he hadn't come back bearing the blanket in his teeth.

That had all five dragons laughing at him. He gazed around, unsure what we were laughing at, but soon couldn't stop himself from giggling a little too. I lowered my head and licked his face a few times, purring to him.

"Yes, it is Amaleen's blanket," I said. "But those are yours, right?" I pointed towards his own pile of blankets. It seemed to have grown even larger in the last few days. No wonder Amaleen was now preemptively claiming things around him.

Valar gazed at them for long moments, and finally offered a half-hearted, "Those are mine."

"Nothing like the antics of hatchlings to brighten your mood," Narymiryn said, grinning.

"I agree," I replied, smirking at her. "Perhaps it's time for you to have one of your own! Would be nice for Valar to have a playmate about his own age." I turned my golden gaze to Korvarak, grinning at him. "Korvarak, get busy on that will you?"

Korvarak beamed at me. "Can do!"

Narymiryn glared at me, flaring up her little spines. "You keep your mouth shut, Brother. Stop encouraging him. He encourages himself often enough."

"I'm sure he often does lots of things to himself," I quickly replied.

"Aw, come on Nary," Korvarak said, licking her neck as they sat side by side while Amaleen looked over Nary's wounds. "Valyrym says I gotta get started."

"Don't push your luck, Korvarak," Nary snapped. She'd already been irritable from being up so long, and what little good will Valar had caused to blossom in her was quickly being eaten away by our steady stream of teasing.

"That's right," I said, laughing. "Get busy on putting an egg in her, hmm?"

Narymiryn glared at me so hotly I was worried my scales might melt right off my body. Luckily I knew I was well out of range of any physical retaliation, and she wouldn't be coming after me while Amaleen was tending her wounds. Though, it wasn't long before her ire was drawn all the more intently by Korvarak, who did not have the benefit of distance.

"I sure will," Korvarak purred. "We should get busy on that tonight, Nary. Let's go out to the hills."

Nary glared at him, hissing. Kylaryn laughed, her blue wings shaking. "Korvarak, you manage to be even less romantic than Valyrym. You keep that up, and you won't get a chance to make an egg tonight, or ever again."

"Aw, but it'll be fun!" Korvarak laughed, nudging Nary with his nose. "It'll seem a lot more romantic when I climb up on your-AWWWWWH!"

And that was the point in which Narymiryn smacked the back of her forepaw directly into Korvarak's pale green eggs. THWACK! Korvarak cried out in startled pain, and flopped forward onto his chest plates. His hind legs tensed and strained, hoisting his rump into the air as he reached back to cradle his fiercely aching balls in a paw. His ears pinned back, and his eyes crossed as he sat in that silly position for long moments, groaning.

Kylaryn burst out laughing, and so did Voskalar. Nary just smirked down at him. "You were saying, Korvarak?"

"Nnaaaawwwhhh," Korvarak groaned, flopping onto his side and curling up.

"No, I don't think that's what you were saying."

Amaleen soon shared our laughter, shaking her head. "I think I'll start with Voskalar, then."

I smirked at Korvarak. "Nicely done, my friend."

Korvarak groaned, his tail twisting. "Up your tail!"

"I know, Korvarak, you'd like that. But I don't think you're in any condition for that right now."

Narymiryn patted his head as Korvarak squirmed around a little. "There, there. You earned that one, Korvarak."

"Be good, and maybe she'll make it up to you later after all," Kylaryn said. Narymiryn just giggled at that idea. Strange how a female could say that to her and she'd laugh and smile, but when we males said it, she took offense.

"I hope you're paying attention, Voskalar," Amaleen said as she began to gently clean one of his wounds. "There are valuable lessons to be learned when it comes to courting females."

"I am doing my best to learn," Voskalar said, giving her a sheepish grin before wincing in pain.

Voskalar didn't mind her using his real name. Which was good, as I'd already made it clear to the other four dragons that as long as we were going to be risking our lives for these people, and as long as Amaleen was going to be the one in charge of treating our wounds, we were going to give her our names. I'd let them each offer their names themselves, but only after making it clear they were not to give her any grief about using them.

Yes, Val Junior, amusingly detailed threats were involved.

As I suspected, none of the other dragons had wounds that were very serious. Though that did not mean their minor wounds could go without being cleaned. They were not going to enjoy that part as I knew well. The spirits that Sigil Stone's healers always used to cleanse the wounds burned like mad, though I didn't bother to tell either Voskalar or my sister that in advance. Mostly because I wanted to see how they reacted.

If I had to go through it, so did that. No, Alia, that is not mean. That is what dragons call fair.

Amaleen did warn Voskalar that it was going to hurt a little bit. But given the way he yowled and thrashed when she scrubbed at his wounded foreleg with the spirit-soaked cloth I think he rather underestimated the amount of pain. He grit his sharp teeth, and shook his bronze-brown head back and forth, crying out through clenched jaws.

Amaleen cooed to him as she kept cleaning his wound. "There, there, Vos, it's almost over. I'll put a little herbal salve on your bandages that will help ease the pain."

"Thank you," he murmured. "Is it supposed to hurt that much?"

"Yes," Korvarak said, grinning. He'd only just gotten back up onto his haunches, but was already back to his usual, playfully cocky self. He had his own experience with having each and every arrow wound cleansed with the hated spirits. "Dragons are just supposed to be tough enough to take it. But it's alright to cry, since you're still a whelp."

This time Voskalar didn't back down. He was probably in too much pain to take any teasing even from the dragon he looked up to. "And it'll be alright for you to cry when you get hit in the balls again!" He snapped his jaws, and then as if it wasn't clear already he added, "By me!"

Korvarak winced and Nary laughed. She moved over to lick Voskalar's neck a few times, grinning. "Good for you! Keep standing up for yourself."

"Don't encourage him to hit me there," Korvarak protested.

"Oh hush," Nary said, flicking her tail at Kor's snout. "It wasn't that long ago we were all encouraging him to stand up for himself against Val. You're no different."

"Yeah," Voskalar murmured, eyes half glazed over at the feel of a female's tongue across his scales. He barely seemed to notice Amaleen applying the salve to his wound. "I'mma stand up....to you, I mean. Er...Korvarak."

Kylaryn laughed to herself, butting her head against my shoulder. "Nothing like a female's tongue to make a young male's mind as glazed over as his eyes."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," I muttered, hoping she wouldn't bring up too many old stories.

"I remember a time when Valyrym had something very important to tell some of the elder dragons from our clan," Kylaryn said, smiling.

"Oh, not this," I said, hanging my head.

"In fact it was related to the fact he was thinking about leaving the clan, to claim his own lands." Kylaryn went on against my protests. "So I decided to help him."

"And how exactly did you help?" Amaleen asked as she worked a roll of bandage around Voskalar's foreleg. She probably already knew the answer, but it seemed females of all species conspired to cause me no end of embarrassment.

"I wanted to comfort him, you see," Kylaryn said, her voice a silken purr. "And help keep him calm. So I sat right next to him, waited just until he began his well-rehearsed speech, and began to lick his neck. And his shoulder. And his muzzle."

Amaleen started to giggle. She tied off the end of the bandage that now wrapped Voskalar's front leg. "And how did that help his speech?"

"Not only did he nearly forget what he'd come there to tell them," Kylaryn grinned, flicking her tail. "But it wasn't long before he'd gotten a full fledged erection right in front of the clan elders!"

Amaleen pressed a hand to her mouth, but could not stifle her laughter. The other dragons soon joined in. Kylaryn nipped my neck and then smugly flared her crests, savoring my embarrassment. I could feel my own crests heated, the inside of my ears flushing crimson.

I hissed, thumping my spined tail. "Oh yes, laugh it up."

Valar peered up at me, giggling along with them. I didn't think he knew what we were talking about, but his memory proved better than my own. "You gotta re-rection in front of elders?" I'd forgotten he'd learned that word a previous time he overheard us talking with Korvarak.

"He certainly did," Kylaryn said, patting Valar's head. "Can you just imagine his embarrassment?"

"Almost as embarrassed as he must be now," my sister added with a flourish of her tail. She flashed her fangs at me. "Just look how red his crests have gone."

"Oh, got mounted," I snapped at her, resisting the urge to hide my head beneath a wing.

"Don't be cranky, Brother," she admonished me, curling her neck a little.

I stared at Kylaryn, and finally nipped her ear enough to make her yelp. She pulled her head way, laughing, and I hissed under my breath. "Balls, Female. The things you tell people about me. I shall have to rack my memory for something profoundly embarrassing to reveal about you!"

"Try not to injure your brain in the process," Kylaryn said, licking the back of her paw, smug as a feline.

When Amaleen was able to control her laughter if not the reddening of her cheeks, she returned her attention to Voskakar. "Alright, Vos. I have to clean the wound along your side now. Would it help if Nary kept licking your neck?"

Voskalar licked his nose, his spines rising around his head of their own accord. At this point, his crests were not the only thing inflating under their own power. "...If...she doesn't mind..."

"I don't mind," Nary said smoothly. She shot Korvarak a smug grin, trying to make him jealous. Then she gave Voskalar's earth toned neck a slow, teasing lick. "But if I keep doing this he's going to get unsheathed."

Amaleen couldn't help flicking her eyes to his sheath, trying not to laugh at the poor dragon's embarrassment. A little bit of red was already peeking from his sheath. "That's alright. Just means he's a healthy young dragon. It's not as if I haven't seen a dragon's erection before."

All four sets of dragon eyes were immediately turned in my direction. That only made my face flush even hotter beneath my scales. "What?" I swallowed hard, making an embarrassed show of scratching at my neck with a wing talon. "Stop looking at me like that."

Nary soon went back to licking Voskalar's neck, and Amaleen began to wash his wound with the harsh spirits. He whimpered a little in pain, but the distraction was definitely helping as he didn't yowl or thrash the way he had last time. Instead, he was practically melting under the attention. And he was definitely slipping from his sheath.

"Come on, Valar," Kylaryn said, chuckling. Valar didn't really need to hang around while Voskalar got hard as a rock. "Let's go to the market and get you some cake before it closes."

"Cake, cake, cake, cake," Valar chirped happily, tilting his head back and forth in time with his sing-song words. "And fishies too!"

"We'll be back in a little while," Kylaryn said, flashing Voskalar a grin. She flared her wing to shield the young dragon's crimson spear from Valar's eyes till the bandaged hatchling had bound ahead of her. "I expect you to have that thing put away by then." Then she glanced at the rest of us with a smirk. "That goes for the rest of you, too. Get it finished before we return or take it elsewhere."

"I appreciate your optimism for our evening, Kylaryn." I smirked at her. "Take your time. I'm hoping to need it."

"And I'm hoping Nary is going to lick my neck too, when Amaleen cleans my arrow wounds," Korvarak said, sounding a little dejected.

"Don't press your luck," Nary and Amaleen said to Korvarak and me, almost simultaneously. Then the two of them looked at each other and laughed happily.

"Gods, Korvarak," I said to my friend, hanging my wedge shaped head. "Is it me or are the females being extra cruel today?"

"It's not just you," Korvarak said, grinning.

"I suppose it's nothing I'm not used to," I said. Then I waved a paw towards Voskalar who now appeared to be completely erect. From the way he was leaning into Nary's continued lapping as Amaleen slathered his wound in numbing salve, I doubted he'd even realized his affliction. "Though I hope Nary is going to help the poor whelp out with the problem she's caused him. I think he'd relish the...attention." I perked my ears up smugly. "And it shouldn't take him long."

That seemed to suitably embarrass both my sister, and the whelp. Nary glanced away from him, and Voskalar looked down at his own quite erect maleness. Admittedly smaller than my own, though not too badly sized for a youngling. He quickly tried to cover it up with his paws, and failing miserably at that, he tried to turn away from Nary and I. Of course, that only caused him to present his rigid red spear directly to Amaleen. My love immediately went wide eyed and her cheeks got even redder than before, and she was soon laughing. Which didn't help Voskalar's embarrassment at all.

"Spirits, Vos, you really did get excited," Amaleen said, still laughing.

"S-sorry!" Voskalar stammered, finally curling his tail to try and hide himself.

By now I was roaring with laughter. All the time they spent embarrassing me, and finally I was able to see the tables turned on both my sister and my mate. Korvarak's laughter soon joined mine. Though given Nary had already smacked him he was wise to keep his laughter quiet. Finally I shook my head, trying to quell my own mirth.

Amaleen patted Voskalar's tail. "Oh, it's alright, Vos. It's only natural." She giggled a little more. "Especially at your age. Besides. As I said, it's not as though I'm not already familiar with a dragon's erection." She glanced back at me slyly and stuck her tongue out. "Granted, until now Val's was the only one I'd seen up close."

I blinked a moment. "Wait, are you saying you've seen another dragon's erection at some point?" I wasn't jealous, just curious.

"Several times, in fact," Amaleen said, as nonchalantly as she could.

I should have known she was up to something. "Who's?"

Amaleen carefully cut a length of gauzy bandage to affix to Voskalar's side. Casually, she said, "Korvarak's."

"What?!" This time it was Kor's turn to sound embarrassed. "When?"

"In the mornings," Amaleen said as if the answer was clear as the bright blue sky. "Sometimes you roll onto your side, or your back in the morning. And sometimes you're hard as forged iron while you sleep. Looks like a red dagger laying against your belly."

"Bahahahahahaha!" I gave a loud, almost explosive laugh.

Korvarak ducked his head. His own green scales carried his blush far more obviously than my black ones did. The end of his snout looked nearly purple around his nostrils. He didn't try and dispute that fact, though he probably should have. Knowing Amaleen she'd seen no such thing and just wanted to get him to admit it.

"Didn't know anyone was up before me," Korvarak muttered. "Try to deal with it before anyone else is awake."

Whether Amaleen was joking or sincere, she didn't say. When she was done bandaging all of Voskalar's wounds, she turned her attention to Nary. Voskalar was more then happy to begin licking Nary's black scaled neck to comfort her through the painful cleansing.Vos even grew a little bolder, and gently stroked one of Narymiryn's golden striped forelegs. Korvarak glared, and soon was licking the other side of her neck. Nary have a happy little churring sound, though Amaleen found herself nearly squished in the middle.

Soon enough Amaleen was shoving at the two male dragon's heads. "You two are starting to cause more problems than you're solving." She pushed Korvarak's head away, and he whined a little. Then she waggled her finger at Voskalar. "And you and your boner need to stay out of the way."

That had me laughing even harder. I was quite sure I'd never heard Amaleen use the word "boner" before. I slunk up behind her, and gently swatted her on the rump. "You're a lot of fun when there aren't any hatchlings around."

Amaleen only turned and swatted me lightly on the nose. "Don't you start, you horny old lizard. Bad enough I've got one dragon erection bobbling around while I'm trying to work. And that's to say nothing of two other dragons competing for the attention of the one I'm trying to care for."

"Alright, you two," I said, gesturing at my friends with a wing tip. "Give my mate time to care for my poor sister." It felt good to call her my mate outloud, in front of others who did not care what species we were.

"Thank you, Val," Amaleen said as the two males backed away.

"You're welcome, my dear," I purred to her. Then I flared up all my spines and grinned wickedly at Nary. "You can compete for Nary's attention when she's all bandaged up."

"You're gonna need to be bandaged up when I'm through with you," Nary snapped right back at me.

"You're the one who gave the poor whelp an erection," I said, laughing. "The least you could do is help him get rid of it. Unless Korvarak is the jealous sort," I added, acting as though Korvarak wasn't right next to me. "Is he the jealous sort?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Nary replied, perfectly happy to shift the embarrassment to her own mate.

"You're asking to get pounced and rutted into the dirt," Korvarak said with a snarl. Something in his snarl told me he wasn't joking this time. I'd snarled like that at Kylaryn plenty of times in the past.

"You'd all better watch where you..." Amaleen waved her hand around in the air as if trying to grasp the word that eluded her. "...Rut!" The way she stumbled over the last word was adorable. "I don't mind you doing that back here, but keep your voices down, and for the God's sake, stay out of my damn herb garden!"

Soon enough, Narymiryn's gashes were cleaned and bandaged. She strut around back and forth, checking to see if the bandages were too tight. She huffed a little. "They're itchy."

"You sound like Valar," I said with a chuckle.

"And you sound like a dragon who needs a smack in the snout." Nary huffed a little, but settled when Amaleen rubbed her neck.

"Don't fuss with them," Amaleen told her.

Watching Amaleen deal with the other dragons was a beautiful thing. There was no judgment in her, no matter what they did. She wasn't put off by the way they acted. She wasn't cold, or distant to any of them. She didn't even act as though they were strangers to her. In the short weeks since they'd arrived, she had gotten to know them. But more importantly, she had gotten to see how I acted around them.

They were not simply dragons to her anymore. They were not just soldiers risking their lives for her land. They were more than that to Amaleen now, just as they were more than that to me. They were my friends, and they were my family.

Now they were Amaleen's family, too.

While Amaleen worked on Korvarak's arrow wounds he squirmed and fidgeted till she whapped him on the nose and told him to stop fussing. When one of his wounds seemed particularly painful, she hugged his head against his body. When Nary came over to start licking his neck, Amaleen playfully pointed out that it was good to see there were no hard feelings between the two of them.

Then with a smirk she added, "Though I suspect they'll be something else getting hard between you two before long."

"I'll give you something hard," Korvarak muttered under his breath, then smirked at Amaleen. "Unless you're the one with the jealous mate."

Amaleen just laughed and smiled at me as she closed up one of his wounds. I wondered then if Amaleen even realized she'd become one of us. If she only had wings she would have made an excellent dragon.

When Korvarak's arrow wounds were all tended and bandaged, Amaleen put all her supplies back on her blanket and bundled them back up. As she walked back towards her house, she paused to look over at Voskalar. The young dragon had taken to covering his seemingly ever-present erection with his wings out of embarrassment.

Amaleen giggled and shook her head, slightly curly black tresses waving. "Will someone please help that poor young dragon deal with his urges before Valar gets back?"

"I'm sure he knows how to tend his own needs," Korvarak said, grinning.

"Be that as it may," Amaleen replied as she made her way to her porch. "No one should be risking their life without having at least felt the touch of the opposite sex."

Of course, that really only left Nary, and Amaleen. Depending on Nary and Korvarak's thoughts on the matter, Amaleen might have been painting herself into a bit of a corner without even realizing it. I wouldn't mind if she "tended" the youngling, so long as I got to watch. Much as when I was with Kylaryn, I'd have let her explore Korvarak as long as I got to see it all...and possibly got to mount her when she was done.

Still, Nary seemed the best candidate to tend the youngling's desires. Especially considering the fact that she kept peering down at his rigidity, and licking his neck as if just to keep him excited. Especially-especially as it might make Korvarak quite amusingly jealous. I walked over and butted Nary with my head, making her grunt.

"Oh, go on then," I waved my wing a bit towards the earth-toned runt. "Help the young whelp out."

Nary glared at my, her eyes ridges lowered and her spines extended. "What makes you think I-"

"It'll make Korvarak jealous," I said, sweetening the deal. Korvarak growled at me, and I snapped my teeth at him, flaring up my own spines. "You keep quiet, Green. You can't beat me with two good paws, let alone with one."

"That's true," Nary said, though she could have been agreeing with either statement, or both of them. "Oh, very well." She grinned at Voskalar. "Move your wings, hmm?"

Voskalar stared at her wide-eyed and slack jawed. "Won't Korvarak be...mad?"

"No, don't worry about him." Nary smirked at Korvarak across her wings. "I'll distract him."

"How exactly do you plan to distract me so much I'm not watching what you're doing?" Korvarak thumped his tail spines against the grass.

"Like this," Nary said, grinning wickedly as she pushed her haunches up into the air, with her tail hoisted in front of Korvarak's snout.

Now it was Korvarak's turn to stare wide eyed at Nary. He managed to tear his eyes away from the soft pinkness of her sex to flash me a fang-filled smirk. "Told you she was naughty."

"Spirits, Sister," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "The things you do!"

I rose up and moved a little further back, hoping for Valar's sake Kylaryn wasn't planning on returning any time soon. This looked to be a side of Aunt Nary he didn't need to know about. Nary pressed her paw to Voskalar's chest, and trailed it very slowly down his body. She dragged her claws against the plates that covered his heart, then over the finer scales across his belly. When her pads finally brushed the tip of his erection it made him shiver and whine in delight. Slowly, she worked her paw all the way down his tool, just brushing him here and there. Then she did the same to his balls, lightly playing with them.

Korvarak, meanwhile, found himself entranced by her sex. She swayed her haunches now and then. He tilted his head back and forth, watching closely. It seemed Amaleen was right. Dragons did tilt their head noticeably when they were watching something so intensely. Korvarak, of course, was also sliding from his sheath, his own tapered red tool beginning to show itself. I knew what that meant for Nary. So did she, given that any time Korvarak began to move up behind her, she tucked her tail down between her back legs and only lifted it again when he retreated.

"Cut it out, Nary," Korvarak hissed in frustration.

Nary just shot him a look across her back. "You just wait your turn."

"I'll show you waiting my turn," Korvarak growled at her, hunkering down as though he was going to pounce.

Oh. This should be good. I almost wished it was Kylaryn stuck there between the two males so I could properly enjoy it. As it was, my own sheathed tool had stirred a little, spurred on more by the actions than the actors involved, as it were.

"Teasing males is a good way to get an egg in you, Nary," I admonished my sister, unable to help myself.

"You're the one who's been telling Korvarak to put one in me," she hissed back at me. She had her paw around Voskalar now, and was slowly stroking the youngling up and down, much to his shuddering delight. "Besides, I'm not receptive right now. And Korvarak knows his place..."

Ah. I saw where this was going. She enjoyed riling up Korvarak. Probably liked it when he gave it to her nice and rough. A bit more than I might have needed to know about Nary, but amusing nonetheless. And as dragons, we were not quite so prudish about such things as a human might be. After all it had been Nary herself encouraging Korvarak and me to compare our farming equipment.

"My place is on your back, Female!" Korvarak growled at her, baring his fangs.

Ooh, Korvarak was getting angry. Nary coiled her tail around his neck to hold him in place for a moment, but it wasn't long before he was stroking the underside of that very tail in his paw. Nary moaned a little, and Voskalar stared at them. He looked though he wasn't sure which seemed more unbelievable; that he was getting stroked off or that the female doing it was about to get mounted right in front of him.

"Enjoy it while you can, Whelp," I said with a laugh. "You're not likely to be involved in many of these situations."

Nary began to stroke the earthen dragon faster, her black paw moving steadily up and down his scarlet weapon. He was not badly sized for a young dragon. She squeezed his ridges at the bottom of each stroke, and his bronze-brown orbs bounced back and forth a little with the movements of her paw. Soon he was rolling his hips with eager inexperience, and I was going to be impressed if he did not shortly spill his seed.

Nary leaned in a little closer to nibble Vos's neck, and as her tail came free from Korvarak's throat, he took his opportunity to pounce his mate. Nary yelped in surprise as Korvarak flung himself against her and up onto her back. The force of his pounce sent her stumbling forward right into Voskalar, knocking the younger dragon off his haunches and onto the ground. He yelped in pained surprise as Nary came crashing down against him, and Korvarak atop her.

"Korvarak!" Nary yelled at Korvarak, flexing her spines in anger. "You big, ugly piece of - EEP!"

That was the point at which Korvarak sunk his teeth into the back of her neck. A smart tactic, as it brought out the natural submissive mating instincts in a female. Now, before you hit me Alia, I do not mean to say that all females are naturally submissive, nor should they be. But among dragons, during mating or foreplay, biting the back of their necks causes them melt beneath you. It worked for Kylaryn, and she was the least submissive female I had ever met. It certainly worked just as well for Nary, much to the benefit of Korvarak and the detriment of Voskalar who was stuck under her.

Nary moaned for Korvarak as he held her neck in his teeth, a few dribbles of blood running down her black scales. Korvarak positioned himself, clutching her haunches with his good paw. Despite their seeming disregard for the rest of their injuries, I was glad to see that at least he was still favoring his other paw as it healed. He just rested it against her rather than grasping at her.

Korvarak rolled his hips and smoothly thrust in, which made Nary moan even louder. At this point I wasn't sure how I felt about hearing my sister make such sounds. Part of me wanted to retreat to the back of Amaleen's garden while they had their fun, or perhaps somewhere else entirely. But another part of me knew I couldn't just abandon Amaleen to return to such a scene.

"Keep it down, will you?" I muttered, knowing they weren't likely to listen.

As Korvarak began to rut her, Nary tried to keep from crushing poor Voskalar. Given the way Korvarak had his teeth in her neck, Nary's head was down towards the ground. Vos started to squirm free, and Nary tried to give him a little room to do so. But as Voskalar got about halfway out from under her, his erection passed near Nary's face. Apparently being crushed under two other dragons hadn't quelled his desires. Nary quickly snatched at his hind leg with a paw, tugging him till he rolled to his back beneath her. Then, bracing herself against her front paws, she began to lap at Voskalar's balls. Soon, she was licking up over his ridges, then his tip, and finally, she parted her jaws to slide her snout smoothly down the younger dragon's maleness.

Korvarak even removed his teeth from her muzzle to allow her to do so. Rather nice of him I thought, trying to avoid getting too excited myself. It wasn't that it was Nary, mind you, quite far from it. Dragons simply got excited by mating. Were it any other female in the middle, I'd have been hard as a rock. As it were with Nary, I was just barely peeking from my sheath and feeling quite awkward about the whole thing.

"Good GODS!" Perhaps I wasn't feeling quite as awkward as Amaleen who had come back outside just in time to see three dragons having their fun in her back garden. "That is not what I had in mind!"

Then, Amaleen turned and glared at me, her hands upon her hips.

"What?" I said as innocently as I could. "This isn't my fault. It was you who encouraged my sister to make Voskalar happy."

"Yes," Amaleen said, still shaking her head. The sun was going down, and the light was beginning to dim, but her cheeks certainly looked quite red. "I thought she'd...take him deep into the garden and give him a quick, discrete stroking."

I laughed, my wings shaking. I cocked my horned head and flicked my spines a little. "My dear, at what point in the various relationships we've had..." I ticked a few things off by tapping my claws one at a time. "From hatred to acceptance to friendship to love..." I set my paw back down, smirking. "Have I ever given you the idea that dragons do anything discretely?"

"Point taken," Amaleen said.

Then Nary gave a particularly loud moan, and pulled her head back from Voskalar long enough to call out a few extremely dirty sentences in draconic. I couldn't tell if she was talking to Korvarak or Voskalar. Probably both of them. Dirty girl, my sister. And quite the memorable first time for Voskalar, getting to play that way with more experienced dragons. My own first few times exploring another had been with Kylaryn, and as it had been her first time too, it had been a great deal more awkward. And admittedly, more short lived. I had to give Voskalar credit for his relatively impressive endurance.

Amaleen scrunched her nose up as Nary called out an even naughtier phrase. "I know a few of those words..."

The rest of them were draconic words I most certainly hadn't taught Amaleen. Still, I couldn't help myself. I lowered my head and whispered the translation into her ear. Amaleen gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, her blue eyes wide. Then she started giggling and couldn't seem to stop. I suppose even after all this time she didn't expect to hear a dragon say such things.

Nary parted her muzzle and slowly worked Voskalar's tool back into her snout. She braced herself against her front legs so she wasn't crushing him too badly, then began to bob her muzzle against him. Korvarak had picked up the pace of his thrusts, and the force of his grinding was rocking Nary steadily against Voskalar. In turn, Nary was bobbing her own head against Voskalar's red spear in lockstep rhythm with Korvarak's thrusts. Now and then the ridges of Voskalar's cock popped out from the end of her muzzle. Korvarak's own ridges were visible for a moment every few thrusts, his green balls smacking against Narymiryn.

Amaleen was watching the other three dragons now, her arms now folded beneath her breasts, pressing them out a little against her lilac toned dress. "If you three filthy beasts tear out your stitches or scrape your bandages off don't expect me to re-dress your wounds tonight!"

If any of them heard Amaleen they didn't acknowledge it. I laughed, and nudged her gently with my muzzle, curling a foreleg around her waist to give her a little hug. Then I gestured with my head towards the back of her garden, where the moans would be quieter and the sights completely obscured.

"Shall we venture off, then, and leave them to it?"

"In a minute," Amaleen said, and waved towards the three dragons as if to say she wished to see how it turned out.

"Oh, I see!" I grinned at her, and promptly swatted her on the rump, a little harder than before. "You dirty thing!"

Amaleen yelped and rubbed her butt, but was too busy staring at the dragons to swat me back. "You were watching them first."

"I was waiting for you, actually," I muttered, glancing away. Then I grinned. "If it was Kylaryn, I'd have been watching."

Amaleen turned her head to smirk at me. "If that was Kylaryn in the middle of that dragon sandwich, you'd have been pumping yourself off like a pubescent hatchling watching from the bushes."

I burst out laughing, snarling in mirth. "You may have a point. Though, once you came out I'd have demanded you do the pumping."

"Ah, so that's why you wanted to slink off into the back of the garden."

"The thought crossed my mind. Perhaps I didn't want to be the only dragon who went without a victory celebration." I grinned down at her.

"And what about poor Kylaryn?"

Poor Kylaryn indeed. Amaleen's words cut a little deeper than she'd intended them to.. There were more reasons than one she'd elected to be the one to take Valar away from the scene of horny dragons. She had been trying very hard lately to deal with the changes in our own relationship. In our own way, we had been mates. She'd been very close to me. She still was. It was difficult for her not to come cling to me when she wanted comfort, or press her haunches to me when she wanted pleasure.

I murmured to myself in thought, then gestured to Voskalar with a grin. "Perhaps she can teach Voskalar how to please a female."

If Voskalar heard my suggestion, he was in no condition to reply. Because it was just about that moment in which he could take no more. The ever-building waves of pleasure from the female's muzzle had grown a little too powerful for a young dragon to take. From the way he suddenly cried out so loud and so frantically, Voskalar's orgasm almost seemed to surprise him. Ah, yes, to be young again. It was always...different when someone else brought me there, too. It still is, though it's never quite so surprising.

Voskalar groaned and thrashed beneath her as he came, his tool pulsing in Nary's mouth. Still feeling awkward, I peered into the woods rather than watch the entire process, but I could hear all three dragons moaning, groaning, snarling and crying out. I soon heard Korvarak gasp, and knew a roar was forthcoming. I was not disappointed. I couldn't help but glance back for a moment to see Korvarak thrusting wildly in the desperate throes of his own climax. Nary soon joined the males in achieving her own apex of delight as if the hot rush of Korvarak's seed was all it took to push her over the edge. The three of them writhed together in ecstasy, a squirming mass of green, bronze and black pleasure.

"Gods," Amaleen said breathlessly. "That was quite a sight, I'll admit that much. Do dragons always finish together that way?"

I wanted to say, "of course!" I wanted to tell her that when dragons mate, the male always ensures the female achieves her own climax alongside him. But instead, I was truthful. "...No." I grinned sheepishly, perking my frilled ears. "I suspect Nary..."

"...Was faking it?" Amaleen giggled as she cut me off.

"No!" I said, confused. "...Faking it?"

"Never mind," Amaleen laughed even harder.

The concept was foreign to me. I had no idea why a female would fake such a thing. If she was not satisfied after mating, she could always grab the male by his horns and insist he finish the job with his tongue. Kylaryn had certainly done as much to me, after all.

I waved a few unsheathed claws in the air. "I was going to say I suspect Nary was working her rhythms so that she was able to get both males to release their seed about the time she was near her own peek. She's probably been with Korvarak enough now to have him figured out. Voskalar she likely just kept near the edge till she was ready for him to spill."

Amaleen rubbed her scarlet face with her hands, laughing. "You'd think by now I'd be used to hearing you dragons talk so openly about sex. You certainly make it sound as though you're all awfully...talented at it."

I cocked my head at her, and made a show of curling my tongue in the air. "Am I not?"

"You've impressed me, that's for certain," Amaleen said, grinning and rubbing my nose. "But I hadn't realized your females could...control the males that way."

"I think it's more a matter of working themselves just right along with the male to ensure they both receive adequate pleasure." I curled my foreleg around her belly again, stroking her stomach through the fabric of her purple dress.

"That is a profoundly un-romantic way to put it." Amaleen giggled.

"Would it be more romantic if I just shoved my snout up under your dress?" I purred to her, lowering my front leg down until I work it up under her dress where I squeezed her thigh.

"Romantic? No." Amaleen shook her head, her lightly curled tresses swaying. "But it doesn't sound like a bad idea, either." She glanced back towards the back of her garden, biting her lip. "It's a shame your son's probably going to be back any moment. We'll have to wait till he's asleep..."

"My love," I said, grinning. "I shall be fast asleep myself by then. It is a wonder I have not collapsed on my feet already."

"Tomorrow, then," Amaleen said, grinning and rubbing my nose.

I glanced towards the other three dragons, slowly extricating themselves from one another. Then I looked towards the back of the garden, my tool plumping in my sheath as I imagined Amaleen hoisting that dress up for me. I suspected that watching the other dragons had heated Amaleen's blood even more than my own. I lowered my head and purred into her ear.

"I can be quick if you can."

"Deal." Amaleen snatched me by one of my ears and started walking back into her garden.

"Ow!" I yelped, following after her. "Ow! Amaleen! This is not sexy!"

Behind me, all three of the other dragons started laughing. I growled under my breath, calling back to them. "Oh shut up!"

Amaleen dragged me back by my ear until we'd reached a secluded part of her garden. Much as she had come to enjoy unveiling her body for me, she was still shy about it around anyone else. I think it was both a natural human sense of modesty, and the fact that her body was something she preferred to share with me, and me alone. She was not a dragon, and held a deeper sense of monogamy than a dragon might.

I did not necessarily share it in the same way, and Amaleen understood that dragons were naturally inclined to often mate with more than one partner. After all, a species with such a long life cycle had to ensure a deep gene pool somehow. But Amaleen also understood that I completely respected her feelings. Though I might have desires to mount a female of my own species again, I had no intentions of acting upon those desires. Of course, if there came a time when Amaleen wished to watch me mount a female dragon and then let me ravish her in turn, I would be happy to respect that wish as well.

We had taken to using the back corner of Amaleen's garden when we wished to share pleasure, or simply be isolated from the rest of the town. The far corner abutted a grove of trees beyond her fence, so it was especially isolated. It was shaded by the trees beyond her vine-shrouded fence, and also the canopy of an ancient oak that occupied the land not far from her fish-filled pond. There was a wide swath of soft, silken moss there that was comfortable for Amaleen to sit or lie upon even while she was nude. It had gotten a bit flattened down by our many trips there, but it was thick and spongy and seemed to rebound well enough. I tried to keep my claws and tail spines from shredding it even during the throes of release.

Amaleen padded out onto the moss, and then pointed towards the ground, grinning. "Down."

"Excuse me?" I pulled my head back, my neck curling into an S.

"Down, Dragon!" Amaleen grinned even wider. "On your belly this instant."

"...I see." So, Amaleen wanted to play a game, did she? "Very well, your Majesty," I purred to her, lowering myself onto my belly.

"Good boy." She moved forward, and took my muzzle in her hands.

It wasn't the first time we'd toyed with the idea of playing little games. I had even tried spanking her as she'd playfully suggested. As it turned out, we both enjoyed it. Sometimes I ordered her around, and sometimes she ordered me around. It was not often we played at such things, but we always enjoyed it when we did. Even now I was quickly sliding from my sheath.

"You shall give me pleasure, Dragon," she said, trying to play the part of a bossy, bratty princess. It would have worked better if she hadn't been giggling through her words. Such a persona did not truly come natural to her, and that only made it all the more amusing when she attempted to affect it. "And you shall do so swiftly."

"Of course, M'lady," I murmured to her, nuzzling against her hands. "If you would be so kind as to pull your dress up for me?"

Amaleen did just that. She hiked her dress up slowly enough to tease me with the sight of her thighs being gradually unveiled, till finally the silken curtains of flesh between them were exposed. She moved forward again, and I brushed my snout between her legs. She stood before me with her thighs parted, moaning gently while I nuzzled at her sex, flicking my tongue against her heat.

Beyond that, I wasted little time. She'd said it herself, Valar would be back before long, and he'd probably come looking for me. Best to be finished before then.

I began to lap at Amalee's sex with swift, forceful licks. She grasped one of my horns right away, holding it tightly. With the other hand, she rubbed at her breast through her dress, groaning. Her dress sagged down against my head, but my muzzle was already in place. I could see my tongue parting her petals, rolling against the pinkness beyond them. Amaleen already tasted heated, and wet, sweet. She had enjoyed the dragon's show, indeed.

"Naughty female," I murmured against her sex.

"No talking, Beast," she murmured right back to me.

I smiled to myself. Perhaps we would have to play these games more often. Soon, I had my tongue deep inside her, swirling it. I began with slow, lazy circles but soon accelerated them into ever-twisting waves of pleasure. Amaleen groaned and gasped, bucking her hips against my snout. It was so cute when she did that. I reached out with a paw, and slipped it under her dress to squeeze her rump. My claw tips prickled at her sensitive skin but did not break it.

While I kept my tongue buried in her, the pebbly scales of my snout brushed and bumped her clit. She let her hand drift from her breast to pull her dress up a little higher. Then she touched her fingers to my probing tongue, moistening them before she began to touch herself. She rubbed at her clit, up and down, then in swift circles, and then once again up and down all the more frantically.

Her knees shook a little, and her moans grew louder. I pulled my head back, readjusting my approach to her pleasure. She had wanted this to be quick, after all. I suppose sometimes even females just needed a good swift pleasuring. I certainly wasn't going to complain. So when I pressed my snout back to her soft flesh, it was to roll my tongue around her clit in unceasing swirls.

Amaleen gasped at first, and soon she had given up touching herself, and was simply clutching my ridged horns as though holding on for dear life. I worked my tongue against her lovely little nub. I could tell from her rising cries that each whirling motion of my hot velvet muscle brought her even more pleasure. Where normally I might pull back as I felt her shuddering and approaching her climax, this time there was no teasing. If anything I only worked my tongue with more force and speed, rolling it around her over and over till it seemed she could take no more.

With a squeal of sheer bliss Amaleen came against my tongue, and across my snout. A little flood of her sweet juices spilled all across my nose, and I kept licking her as waves of ecstasy rolled and clenched her sex and sent her mind into wondrously blank euphoria. Her knees buckled and she started to fall. Since I was already grasping her rump, I tugged her forward so that she fell towards my snout. I gradually eased my head back and lowered her onto the moss while she still panting.

I licked my nose a few times, cleaning it, then grinned at her. "And you thought I couldn't do it quickly."

"No," Amaleen said between pants "What I thought I said was no talking Beast!"

I snorted and lowered my head, smiling to myself. Beneath me I could feel my own raging erection pressed between the scales of my belly and the soft moss. I worked myself against the ground, thrusting gently against the moss. I groaned a bit, grinning sheepishly at Amaleen when I realized she was staring at me.

"Don't you even think about tearing up all my moss with your plow," she said, rising to her knees. "It's bad enough all your scales and claws do such damage to my lovely garden. Why, I've half a mind to find myself a paddle and swat you silly with it, you dirty beast."

That made me laugh, and I gave a little purring sound. "Perhaps when we have more time."

Amaleen just grinned, crawling towards me. "On your side, dragon."

I rolled over onto my side, with my ebon wings stretched out behind me. I shifted one hind leg to cover my erection and testicles best I could as if shy about them. Amaleen glared at me, swatting my hind paw and clucking her tongue.

"Expose yourself at once, Dragon!"

I gave a plaintive whine as though truly embarrassed by her commands, but slowly lifted my hind limb for her. Upon my side, my ebony testicles were laying against the scales of my inner thigh, and my scarlet tool was jutting out above them from my retracted sheath. It was arched just enough so that the tip of it nearly brushed my belly scales.

"My, what a big beast you are," Amaleen said, giggling again.

"You're breaking character, Amaleen," I said, grinning down at her.

"And you're going to go without a quick stroking if you act like a brat."

"Wouldn't this be easier if I lay on my back? My leg is going to get tired." I glanced down at my hind limb, wavering slightly as I held it in the air.

"That's a shame," Amaleen said, reaching out to wrap her hands around the base of my shaft. She squeezed my ridges, and I moaned for her. "If you're on your back I shall have to clean you off before you go back. Besides, this shouldn't take long."

"Some of it is going to get on me even if I lay on my side," I said, groaning once again when she rubbed my ridges a little. "And what do you mean it won't take long?"

"We haven't much time, so I'm going to test your theory about your ridges." She looked me over a moment, then grinned. "Why don't you just stand up? Then I can just kneel alongside you and jerk you off."

That made me laugh. Amaleen didn't often put things so bluntly. "You're sounding more and more like a dragon."

"I rather doubt you'll complain."

"I certainly shall not," I said, rolling back to my paws.

Once on my feet, I pushed my hind end a little higher into the air. I arched my back a little, pushing my hips forward so that my member was really jutting out beneath my belly. Amaleen stroked the side of my hind leg a moment before she let her hands slip beneath my stomach. I moaned softly as I felt her touch teasing the scales along my underbelly, inching towards my genitals.

Amaleen took my balls in her grasp, first. My stones were a bit tighter than usual thanks to both excitement and a lingering chill in the evening air. With a bit of play, Amaleen soon had them loosened up and rolling around delightfully in her hand. With the fingers of her other hand, she began to tease my ridges a little more, stroking the raised areas with the her finger pads. I tipped my head back and gave a happy trill, flexing my tail out behind me.

"Aww, someone's enjoying himself," Amaleen said, giggling.

Then, in the distance, I heard Kylaryn's voice. It was faint, but obviously her. That meant Valar was back as well. With any luck the other dragons would keep him busy for a little while but it wasn't likely to be long before he came looking for me. If there was one way to make a hatchling curious, it was to make him wonder where one of his parents was and what they were doing.

"We should go see your son, Val," Amaleen said with entirely too much smugness in her voice for my liking.

"Oh no you don't," I said, turning my head alongside my body to glare at her. I curled my tail behind her as if to block off her escape. "We don't go anywhere till you finish what you started."

"I suppose that would be awfully cruel of me, wouldn't it," Amaleen said, grinning. "We'll have to make it quick, though. Just work your ridges, right?"

"Well..." I licked my nose, ducking my head to watch her wriggle her way beneath my body to take my mating tool in both hands. "Basically, yes. But we might have time for a little more teasing first..."

"Oh no," Amaleen said, grinning. "The deal was, we make it quick. I shall be sure and stay clear this time, so I don't have to take a dip in my pond to clean off first."

Amaleen squeezed my ridges in both her hands. She ducked her head deeper beneath me, and soon I could feel her lips pressing against my most sensitive flesh. She began to kiss the tip of my member, working her lips all around the area of my spear-flare. And as if just to make sure I didn't think she'd decided to tease me after all, she began to roughly jerk her hands up and down my ridges.

Almost too roughly. "GaaaaAAAAaaaHH!" I gave a loud, shuddering moan. The intense sensation was nearly too much to bear. I took a breath, my body tensing up as waves of pleasure rolled through me. It was almost painful in a way.

"Not...quite...so hard!"

"Sorry," Amaleen murmured against my shaft. "Not used to just trying to make you cream."

"Just stroke them constantly, and firmly. But you don't have to do it as though you're trying to flatten all my ridges down."

Giggling, Amaleen adjusted her stroke, and was soon working me much more smoothly. Now she was just steady pumping her hands against my oversensitive ridges. I could not help but thrust into her grasp, groaning in delight. My tool thrusting through the air just in front of her face, my balls swaying. It was almost too much. She was over stimulating me, though that was of course the idea. I grit my jaw, unsheathing my claws into the moss.

"Don't you tear up my moss," Amaleen told me as she stroked me even faster.

My thrusts and Amaleen's hands were soon in rhythm, and my heavy black balls were swaying behind her hands. Amaleen glanced at them, grinning. "We should put bells around your nuts. They'd jingle so merrily whenever we did this."

"You are not putting bells around my nuts," I hissed at her.

Don't even think about it Alia.

"Oh, but I think you'd look cute with a set of bells tied around your nuts," Amaleen giggled, kissing further down my shaft towards my over-stimulated ridges.

I don't care if you agree, Alia. If you want to put bells around someone's nuts, perhaps Val Junior will offer his own. No, Val Junior? Ah, you're right. She should put them on her friend Thomas.

I found I lacked the ability to argue any further as I was pushed swiftly towards my peak. Frantically rubbing a dragon's ridges was the quickest way to make him spill his seed, and I was about to do just that. Amaleen stroked me harder, faster, and finally I snarled and lashed my head back and forth. I did what I could to keep my roar in my throat, and while hidden beneath me Amaleen probably couldn't see my spines flare out, either.

But she could certainly feel me pulsing in her hands, feel my body tensing as I came. My balls tightened till their plump ovals were outlined against the ebony sac and I spat my seed in off-white streaks all over her lovely green moss for long moments. As the pleasure cascaded along my length and into my body, Amaleen worked her hands up and down my whole tool, encouraging my continued release. When my spurts had dwindled to dribbles, she stroked me a few more times, then crawled out from under me.

She patted my haunch, grinning. "You were right. We can do that quickly. Now, catch your breath, and come find Valar. I'll delay him a few more moments."

Amaleen went and washed her hands and face in her pond, and then made her way back towards her house. I remained where I was while I caught my breath. I went to her pond, got a drink, and rinsed off my face and underbelly as well. I felt flushed under my scales, we didn't usually get things over with so directly. It was...rather fun, actually, to be so casual about it. More and more she reminded me of a dragon.

It made me wonder. Amaleen had changed me, was I now changing her? At least I knew that if she was becoming increasingly dragon-like, she would only take on the best parts of our race. That made me smile. If Amaleen had been born a dragon, what a wonderful example she would have made. She would have shown everyone the goodness that could lay inside even a dragon. Yet perhaps it was best she was a human. After all, she had shown me just what wondrous things could lay inside the heart of humanity.

I padded towards the back of her house, a cool breeze blowing in from the north. Though the darkening skies were still clear, I smelt ice in the air, and thicker than before. The winds were turning, and the weather was changing. It would snow soon, I was sure of it. That was good news. That meant Valar would finally have his stitches out. Tomorrow I would leave Valar in Amaleen's care, and take Kylaryn into the market so that the two of us could pick out gifts for him. Normally we would go around the other towns and asks for tributes that might befit a hatchling, but this time we would make do with what was available in Sigil Stones.

Valar's Hatching Day was coming. Despite the fun I had just shared with the woman I loved, and the pleasures my friends had given each other, that was not my real victory celebration. No, I would celebrate our first success against the armies of Illandra with something far more meaningful. I would celebrate our victory by rejoicing in the life of my son. The life Illandra tried to take from him. The life Amaleen saved.

Behind Amaleen's house, everyone was gathered around Valar. They were all laughing except for Korvarak who was too busy rubbing his muzzle. From the looks of things, Valar had just demonstrated why Rorgie was the best flyer. That is, he had just hurled the little stuffed beastie right into Korvarak's nose. As soon as Valar saw me coming, he dashed away from the others and made a beeline for me. I caught him in my paws and hugged him to my chest plates. Then, hobbling on three paws, I joined the others.

I settled down next to Amaleen. She sat down on the grass and leaned against me. I curled my tail around her. Just being near her made me feel warmer, as though her love was a thick blanket she could spread upon me any time she was near. I cradled Valar against my chest. He suddenly looked as drowsy as I felt, blinking a few times as he lay his head against me. While I held him, I wrapped my wing around Amaleen, and smiled at the other dragons.

At least for the moment, I simply felt happy. I was loved, and I loved in turn. Any day now, it would snow. And Valar, at last, would be free to play once more. I would let him run in the fresh snows until he could run no more. It was going to be so beautiful.

---

Chapter Eight

"It came to me when I heard you talking to Kylaryn about the snow." Amaleen beamed as she stood in front in front of a freshly constructed building at the end of the street where her house lay. "I realized that you dragons spend most of your time here in our town, yet you don't have a home here to call your own. Nowhere to take shelter from the elements. So, I asked how quickly we could get something like this put together, and...this is the result."

Over the last few days, the air had grown steadily colder. Amaleen wore a long gray woolen overcoat. Over the top of it she had a dark green cloak complete with a soft, fur-lined hood. She had the hood up as she showed off her people's newest gift to us to protect against the chill borne by the wind. Little bits of dark hair stuck out here and there around her face where her hood had scrunched it all up.

All the dragons were gathered at the end of her street to see what her people had been working on day and night. I was amazed by the speed of the construction. It seemed only days ago there were dozens of humans down there measuring and sawing wood, mixing mortar, and chiseling stone into blocks. Day by day they'd raised a framework for a large, simple but sturdy wooden building, surrounding several equally large stone hearths with tall chimneys. Now the building was finished, complete with an assortment of carefully sloped tiles and rain gutters added to the very high roof.

It had to have a high roof.

"It's a house," Amaleen said, as if we needed an explanation. She turned towards it, lifting both arms up above herself and spreading them out to indicate the sprawl of the roof. "A house for dragons."

A house for dragons. On its own, it sounded an almost surreal statement. Yet it was a thing of wonder and beauty in my mind. That humans would go to so much effort, to work day in and day out, to construct for us a home within their very town. An invitation for us to stay here for all our lives if we but wished it. Winter was nearly upon us, and the people of Sigil Stones wished us to stay in their town sheltered, warm and comfortable. My hope for a lasting home for my people was coming true far sooner than I'd ever dared imagine.

A house for dragons.

"It is beautiful," I breathed, taking a step towards the place.

Amaleen grinned as she turned back towards me. I lowered my head a little, and she reached up to cup my cheek in her hand. "I'm so happy you think so." She rubbed my scales. "Of course, your home is with me, but that only fits one or two dragons at most."

People had been busy behind Amaleen's house the last few days as well. Imagine my annoyance when I was awoken far too early the day after returning from battle just so some upstart engineer could ask me to move aside. I tried to go back to sleep but it was not long before the pounding sound of hammers filled the air. I would have gone off to sleep somewhere else but Valar was already awake by then. He insisted upon going to see what all the humans were banging on. It wasn't long before Valar was making his way from worker to worker, claiming everything from tools to wood to people's lunches and even people themselves.

As it turned out, they were building me a home, as well. Amaleen had given up some of her precious garden space to accommodate it. They first enclosed her back porch, and then built a larger, connecting structure to serve as a wintertime home during war for Valar and me. The walls were thick and sturdy wood, the ceiling quite high, and an impressive stone hearth ensured warmth during the coldest nights. I was overjoyed to see Amaleen so graciously donating some of her space to keep Valar and I warm and sheltered.

Not that I told Amaleen the extent of my appreciation.

"Better than nothing," I had muttered upon my first inspection of the completed room.

Now, though, I could not so easily cover up the warmth that had blossomed in my heart. Were it already snowing, the warmth of my happiness would have turned it back to rain long before it ever reached the earth. I smiled at Amaleen, licked her cheek, and looked at the other dragons, hoping that they shared at least a measure of my appreciation.

They did.

Korvarak simply had a big dopey grin spread over his muzzle. After me, he appreciated the humans most of all. If anything this might have been less a surprise to him than it had been to me. Voskalar looked giddy, bouncing upon on his paws and lashing his tail like a hatchling awaiting his Hatch Day presents. He must have asked "Is this for us?" at least five times before I finally snapped my jaws and told him to shut his snout. Nary beamed with glee, her ears perked and her spines flared up. She kept looking over at me, flashing all her fangs in happiness as if to tell me, "You've really done something this time, Brother!"

And Kylaryn...Kylaryn simply stared. She almost seemed to be having trouble processing that the humans had actually done something so kind for us. She stared at the building, and then she stared at Amaleen, and then she stared at the building again. She walked forward, sniffed the walls, and then stared at Amaleen some more. Finally, she looked over at me. There was something shining there in her silver eyes, something I had not really expected to see from her.

Happiness.

There were other emotions there, too. Confusion, for one. A bit of awe. And a little sorrow, as though she felt she could not truly share this moment with me the way she wished to. And yet, what shone most brightly in her twin silver oceans was happiness. After all this time, she understood.

Kylaryn had seen the absolute worst that humanity had to offer. All their cruelty and hatred and selfishness, and she had seen it in ways I had not until the day Valar was wounded. And she had seen those horrible things on a far greater, more agonizing scale. And yet, now she had seen them at their best. She had seen kindness from humans once before, thanks to Amaleen. But she thought Amaleen an aberration, some twisted sort of bastard daughter; possessed of a heart of gold where all others had only blackness. Now, though, with dozens and dozens of humans all standing around, watching our reactions, growing all the more joyful simply because their work made us happy. ...Now Kylaryn was starting to see them at their all.

Kylaryn, the last of us to understand, finally realized what we were truly fighting for.

Her eyes grew wet, and she scrunched her blue nose with a little sniff. Then she walked towards the nearest large door, clearing her throat with a growl. "How...does it work?"

Amaleen's smile only grew warmer when Kylaryn was the first one to ask how to get inside. "I'd be happy show you, Kylaryn."

The building itself was simple. The engineers had kept it that way for several reasons. For one, they wanted something they could successfully build in a matter of days so long as they had men willing to work hard at all hours. For another, it had to be something a dragon could easily navigate his way around in. As such they had settled on a structure that was essentially a giant enclosed rectangle, wider than it was deep, though it was still quite deep. There were no interior walls, only the walls that enclosed the building itself. However, it was sectioned off inside by four sets of thick blankets made of animal hide and fur that hung from the ceiling. They served as soft walls that sectioned the place off into four sets of living quarters, and also made good insulation.

The idea had been to give each dragon a room with plenty of space. If the occupants wished to turn four rooms into two more the fur blanket "walls" could easily be pushed aside. Each living space had a pile of soft things, an idea Amaleen had blatantly stolen from me though I did not accuse her of thievery. Not too loudly, anyway. The humans donated a variety of blankets and pillows and other objects of comfort to ensure each dragon had adequate bedding.

Better yet, each room was complete with its own sizable hearth built of stone bricks. A large pile of wood sat near each oversized fireplace. Though we did not have heating in our caverns, in many places the mountains themselves acted as insulation to keep the temperature constant. This building would not be the same way, but a roaring fire would go a long way to ensuring a dragon's comfort. They had even thought ahead to make the fireplaces themselves large enough for a dragon to easily shove logs into without having to ask for some human's assistance.

Each of the four chambers had its own large wooden door. The doorknobs were simple oversized levers that a dragon could grasp and push down to open the latch. Amaleen instructed Kylaryn, and in no time at all Kylaryn had opened the door herself. The latch opened with an oddly satisfying click, and the door swung outward on freshly oiled hinges. Hesitant at first, Kylaryn slowly padded into the place, peering about.

It wasn't long before everyone else had to go and investigate their own chambers. I waited for Nary to open up her room, and then I followed in behind her. I glanced around, noticing that the place smelled of fresh pine sap. Rather nice, actually. Probably the easiest type of wood for them to get hold of in high quantities in short order. They'd also draped pine boughs here and there to add to the pleasant scent.

The floor was sanded smooth, no one would be getting any splinters in their pads. The blankets hanging on either side of Nary's surprisingly expansive room were fresh and clean and soft, as were those that made up her bed. She sniffed at the bed, and went to the hearth to poke about in the fireplace. Nearby was a set of shelves not yet occupied.

"Ah," I mused, gesturing to the shelves. "A place for your battle trophies." I smirked at her. "Should you ever acquire any." Then when she glanced back, I ducked my head towards her new bed and made a show of sniffing it. "I should hope you don't burn this one down."

"That was you, you ass," Nary snapped, though it was soon followed by a laugh. Then she made her own show, flopping down on the bedding and rolling about on her new soft things as if just to mark them with her own scent. "These are mine," Nary said, in her best Valar imitation.

From the doorway, Valar gasped and glared at her. I knew what he was thinking. How dare his aunt claim something before he had the chance. Just for that, he ran in and pounced upon Nary's tail, savaging it with his teeth. Of course, the moment she lifted her tail and hoisted him off the ground he was hanging on for dear life. Even if his hind paws were only kicking at air inches above the blankets.

Pretending to ignore the hatchling clinging to her tail, Nary glared at me over her lightly gold-marked wings. "If you should burn this bed down, I shall have your balls as battle trophies on my shelf."

"My balls wouldn't fit on your shelf," I snapped right back at her.

"You're right," Nary giggled. "Your nuts are much to small, Brother. They'd be lost amidst all that shelf space."

In reply, I picked up the nearest pillow and hurled it at her face. Narymiryn wasn't the only one who could imitate Valar. She yelped and laughed, and lowered her tail so that Valar could get his footing again. As soon as he did, he dashed off under the hanging blanket wall. Only a moment later, I heard a familiar sounding yelp.

"OW!" Korvarak cried out beyond the wall. "My nose!"

"That's mine!" Valar yelled, giggling like mad.

"No, Valar, these are my blankets," Korvarak tried to tell Valar to no avail.

I left Korvarak to deal with an increasingly energetic Valar. He might not have realized his stitches were about to come out, but his body knew it was healed. His wing...well...no sense ruining the moment with mere speculation. I ducked out of Nary's room, and peered into the other chambers.

Korvarak was wrestling with Valar while trying to protect his nose. Voskalar was walking all around his own room, examining everything with a giddy grin, his crests raised to full extent. And Kylaryn...Kylaryn had simply laid down atop her furs, staring out the doorway to the humans beyond. I watched her a moment from the doorway, and when her eyes flicked to mine, I made a questioning noise. She smiled at me a moment and beckoned me inside.

I padded in, carefully turned around, and lay down alongside her. I settled in with my front paws out in front of myself and my hind legs faintly kicked out to the side. Without asking, I gently opened my wing and laid it across her back. Kylaryn smiled at me and licked my cheek, then lay her head down across my paw. For a little while we shared our own silence in comfort, listening to the other dragons laughing and exploring their own new homes.

Through the doorway, Kylaryn's chamber had a clear view down Amaleen's street. I could make out her familiar house on the left side of it, with the stream across the road. The stream where Amaleen had scrubbed my paws more times than I'd care to admit.

"She has washed the blood from my paws," I murmured as much to myself as Kylaryn. "And still there is so much yet to stain them."

Kylaryn simply lifted her head and licked my neck a few times. "She loves you greatly, Val."

I smiled, leaning into her tongue. "I know. Even if she was the only one in this town, I would still fight for her."

"I'm starting to understand why."

I smiled a little more, repeating myself. "I know." I did not want to say anything that might diminish what should be a happy time, so I waved my paw at our current surroundings. "What do you think of it?"

Kylaryn peered around the place, a little smile creeping over her own slightly short blue muzzle. "I think there is more care put into this one place than humans have ever showed our kind before."

"You might be right," I said as I turned my head to return her affections, gently licking her neck. "We are changing things here, Kylaryn. We really are. And you are an immense part of that. When this is all over..." For a moment, I peered at my paws. I still saw them covered in blood sometimes. "When this is done, this place will our home. Not just this town, not just the four of us. But this place, this land of Aran'alia...if we do this, they will welcome our kind through the end of the ages."

Kylaryn smiled, tilting her head back so that I could lick at her throat. "That would be so wonderful."

It truly would have. And for a time, I truly thought it would happen.

---

Overnight, it began to snow. I slept in my own home, behind Amaleen's house. As the night grew colder I shoved plenty of wood into my new hearth and breathed a few hot streams of fire to get it all ignited. Just like the other dragons, I had my own sets of shelves as well. The first night I filled them up with things I already had in Sigil Stones. That meant they were mostly displaying Valar's various toys when he wasn't actually playing with them or cuddling Squigg and Rorgie at night.

I also used the shelves to display the books Amaleen used to teach Valar and me how to read. We had graduated to a higher level tome now, and I kept that there as well. Right alongside them I put Valar's various favorite children's tales. Of course, I also kept Of Poetry in a prominent place on the shelf. Amaleen and I had filled up the first dozen pages or so. Most of the poems were Amaleen's, but we had also included my poem "Burn, Burn, Burn", and Valar's acclaimed epic, "Fishy In My Tum".

What's that Val Junior? Why, it's a truly ambitious tale of a struggle for smoky delights told through grand verse. Yes, it's certainly better than anything Alia could up with, you're right.

First light had only just begun to crack the vice-like hold darkness held upon the skies when Amaleen knocked upon my door. I murmured something through the groggy haze that was my mind, and Amaleen entered. I squinted at her, and even through bleary vision I could see snow swirling around her green-cloaked frame as she stood in the doorway that lead from my home to her garden. She was beaming inside her hood. She knew what the snows meant as much as I, and I think she was nearly as excited to celebrate Valar's Hatch Day as I was.

"Is that snow I see?" I said, grinning and lifting my head. Valar irritably pawed at me as my movement temporarily interrupted his slumber.

"It is," Amaleen said, her excitement bubbling through in her voice. "And a lot of it, at that. It's already sticking to everything."

"How delightful," I said softly. "I shall go and fetch Kylaryn, then. Watch over the little one, will you?"

"You know I will," Amaleen, striding inside. She closed the door behind herself to keep the cold air out a moment.

I pushed myself up to my paws, stretching and yawning. Amaleen giggled at the way my ears pinned back and my tongue curled in my open maw. Amaleen pulled her snow-dappled green hood back, and I licked her cheek, murmuring my love for her into her ear. She rubbed my muzzle, and told me the same.

"I'll get the fire going again," Amaleen offered, making her way to the hearth to pick up a few logs and work them into the still-hot coals.

"That would be lovely," I said, keeping my voice soft. No need to wake Valar until his mother was here. He could be a grumpy hatchling if awakened before he was ready, but when we told him it was his Hatch Day, I knew delight and excitement would overwhelm any sleepless irritability. "I'll be back soon."

I went to the larger, dragon-sized door, opened it, and slipped out into the snows. The wind had picked up a little bit over night, but not so much as to prevent the snow from easily sticking to every available surface. I padded my way around Amaleen's back yard, squinting a little against the snows as the cold winds whipped against my scaled body now and then. They were only gusts, though, and in between them things were calmer. I made my way to the front of Amaleen's house, and paused to look up and down the street.

Everything was white. It was beautiful. Peaceful. I had scarcely seen anything so lovely and serene in my life. Snow across the hills and wilds was quite calm in its own way. But there was something extra tranquil about seeing a street so often filled with people now completely empty, and covered in a shroud of unblemished white. What a perfect day to remove Valar's stitches at long last.

By the time I'd reached the other dragon's new home my tracks were the only mark to mar the white blanket, and even those were starting to fill in as the snowfall increased. I knocked gently on Kylaryn's door, then opened it. She blinked up at me from her pile of blankets, her silver eyes narrowed to sleepy slits. She looked groggy and confused. Now I knew what I must have looked like to Amaleen in the mornings when she woke me.

"It's snowing," I said softy. It was all I had to say.

The smile that broke across Kylaryn's muzzle was so warm I was afraid it might actually melt the snow before Valar had a chance to play in it. Kylaryn rose to her feet, and after I moved aside she slipped from her room, and gently closed her door. We'd let the other dragons sleep in. They were all happy that Valar was going to have his stitches removed. But they weren't going to be there for it.

This was something just for us.

Kylaryn followed me back to Amaleen's home. We left two new sets of paw prints in the snow, but even as the darkness continued to lift and the skies grew whiter, I imagined it would be a while before anyone else was up to add any further blemishes to the snowy cover. Gray smoke rose in thick plumes from the chimney of my hearth, and when I opened the door for Kylaryn, the air that washed over us felt warm and comforting.

Kylaryn walked in and Amaleen smiled and waved at her. She'd set out some supplies to help her remove Valar's stitches and give his healed wounds once last cleansing. Kylaryn settled herself down near Valar and after closing the door, I did the same. The crackling fire gave us plenty of light while the just rising sun struggled to pierce the cloud-draped sky outside.

"Valar," Kylaryn said, nudging him gently with her muzzle. Valar murmured and swatted at her snout, not wanting to be disturbed. Kylaryn just smiled and nudged him again. "Valar. It's your Hatch Day."

Valar's head shot up so fast I half thought some insect nesting in our bed had stung him on the chin. "Hatch Day!" He squealed, his silver-flecked golden eyes wide with delight. "Hatch Day!"

"Yes, Valar," I said, unable to help but laugh at his exuberance. "We told you it was Hatch Day when it snowed, remember? Well..." I went back to the door, and cracked it up so he could see the snow swirling just beyond it. "It's snowing."

"Ooooooh!" He crooned happily. "Wanna play in the snow!"

"And you will," I assured him, closing the door again before I let in too much of a chill. I padded over to him, settled on my haunches and curled my tail around my paws. "But first, a gift."

"Gift! Gift! Giftgiftgift!" Valar hopped up and down a few times, then turned a few circles as though stalking his tail. His eyes flicked around the room. "Where is it?"

"Your gift is of a different sort this time," I said. It wasn't completely true. While having his stitches removed was the best gift we could give him, we'd also gotten him things in the market. New toys to play with and new treats to devour. But those would come later, as a surprise. "This morning, your gift is to have your stitches removed. Today you can finally romp and run and play as much as you want again."

Valar gasped in excitement. He tensed up his haunches, and waggled them as though ready to pounce the nearest imagined foe. Then, before he could bolt for the door and hurl himself at the handle, ready to start his play, Kylaryn grasped his tail. He pulled himself against her grasp, then twisted around and swatted at her paw a few times.

"Let gooooo, Mother!" He swatted her paw again. "Father says I can play now!"

All three of us laughed at that as Amaleen moved to her knees beside him. I lowered my head and licked his face a few times, making him purr. "What I said was, you get your stitches out, then you get to play."

Valar acted as though he'd missed that part before. He turned his head to peer at his bandaged body. For a few moments, he looked unsure. He seemed unable to decide between continued excitement and fresh fear. He gave a little whine, and flopped down onto his haunches. He flared up his spines, whining again as he peered up at me. "My blood's not gonna come out?"

"No, Valar," I assured him, showing him the scars that marked the back of my front leg and my ribcage. "Remember when my stitches came out? It didn't hurt, and no blood came out."

Valar peered at my scars as though uncertain. He sniffed at the one on my foreleg, licked the pink blotch that still marred my limb, and then crinkled his snout. "Mine's better."

I laughed a little, my frilled ears perked. "Yes, Valar, your scars are better. Certainly more impressive. Do you think you're ready to have your stitches out now, and show off those scars to everyone? Once your stitches are out, you can romp and play again, and none of us will tell you to slow down." Granted, I might have been stretching the truth there just a little. But the important thing was to get Valar to let Amaleen remove his stitches.

"Yes!' Valar said, happily chirping. Then he peered up at Amaleen for a moment, and when she just smiled at him, he thumped his paw against the furs. "Well? Do it!"

That had all three of us laughing, though Valar didn't seem to see what was so funny. Amaleen giggled and patted his head. "Alright, Little One. Now, stand still so I can unwrap your bandages. It's just like when I change them and wash your wounds. Only this time after the stitches come out, I won't have to put any new bandages around you."

"About time," Valar said, with as much weary frustration as a little hatchling could muster.

I wasn't sure which of us was more excited as Amaleen began to unwrap Valar's bandages. Kylaryn and I practically had to remind each other to breathe. And Valar wasn't making the process any quicker with the way he kept squirming and shifting his weight from paw to paw. But layer by layer, Amaleen unwrapped the now-familiar gauze for the last time. His wounds had long since stopped draining aside from a bit of seepage from the stitches themselves. The last layer of bandage came away clean, and Valar gave a sigh as though a burden had been lifted from his wounded wings.

"Alright, Valar", Amaleen said, setting the bandages aside. She picked up a tiny set of scissors and a little tool to help her grasp the sinew thread of the stitches. "Now, I really need you to hold still this time. Understand?"

Valar huffed and stamped a paw. "Make it faster!"

"Valar," Kylaryn and I snapped almost simultaneously. He stared up at us in shock, and I tapped him lightly on his nose. "You hold still or you don't get to play till you do."

Valar gave a cute little squeak, and went still as he could. For a moment, the only motion was the slow rise and fall of his scaled body with his breathing. Then he gave a plaintive whine, peering up at us as if asking for mercy. "But I has a itchy!"

That had us all laughing again. "You can scratch your itch, Valar. Just hold still for Amaleen while she removes the stitches."

Valar nodded, and was soon happily scratching away at his side with a hind paw.

"Ready, Valar?" Amaleen moved around him a little bit to get at the wound on his hind leg first.

Valar nodded, and did his best to hold still. Amaleen ever-so-gently snipped away the little knots she'd tied to hold the stitches tight. Each sinew thread came apart, and she used her grasping tool to carefully ease them out of Valar's flesh. I found myself holding my breath again, half afraid his wounds would re-open. Soon enough she had removed all the stitches from the first of the crossbow bolt holes.

Aside from the tiny holes that the stitches themselves left behind, the wound had closed up very well. Amaleen had been very careful in pulling the flesh back together. It was likely Valar would bare the scars all his life but over the years they would slowly fade. For now, the first scar remained an ugly, raised pinkish blotch on his hind leg, with faint lines through it where the rent flesh had knit back together.

Valar stared at the scar. "It's pink!" It certainly was. And it certainly stood out against the black scales of his hind leg. Valar didn't seem to like it. "Make it a better color!"

Amaleen giggled. "I can't, Valar. Time will have to do that for you?"

Valar scrunched his muzzle. "Time makes it different?"

"Yes," Kylaryn said. "Over time, scars shrink and fade, and even change color. Especially when your scales return to that area. See?" She lowered her head, and traced her fingers along the faint, pale blue lines that marked her muzzle. The same lines I'd first given her when I stopped her from robbing Lenira's caravan. "These used to be big and pink, too."

Valar stared at them as if he'd never noticed such scars before. He probably thought she'd always had those markings. "Those is scars?"

"Yes, they are." Kylaryn pulled her head back, and nipped at my neck. "No thanks to you."

"Makes you look tough," I said, smirking at her.

"What about on your neck?" Valar pointed his paw to the back of Kylaryn's neck. "Is those spots scars, too?"

"Those are ma-," was as far as I got before I stopped myself. I almost told him those were "mating scars", from the times I'd bitten her on the back of the neck. Not something he needed to know about just yet.

"Yes," Kylaryn said simply, smirking right back at me. "Now, let Amaleen get your other stitches out so you can play."

The second and third batch of stitches came out as easily as the first. None of Valar's wounds had any problems, all had closed up nicely. I was quite elated to see it, if I was honest. I was less elated to see that the wing on the injured side of his body still didn't sit right against him. But in truth, we wouldn't know if he'd ever be able to fly until he was older, anyway. A young dragon's wings and the muscles that powered them did not fully develop until nearer the start of draconic puberty. Until then all we could do was try and help Valar work to stretch his wing out to its natural extent, and see if he would still have full range of movement. I doubted that he would, but, perhaps he would find a way to manage flight anyway. After all he'd already found a way to overcome what would have killed most other hatchlings.

"Play! Playplayplayplayplay!" Those were the only words that came out of Valar's mouth as soon as his stitches were all out.

Valar started towards the door, but paused periodically to stretch himself out as if relishing the feel of a body without bandages covering him and stitches pulling his flesh taut. He peered back at his injured wing, stretched it a little, whimpered in pain, and then pulled it back against his body. I was glad he did not ask me when it would heal like the rest of his wounds. There was some things I wasn't sure I could explain just yet. There were also some things I knew might never be able to heal. Some such wounds were mine to bear.

But now was not a time for worrying about his future. Now was a time to relish the present. Now was a time to rejoice that my son was alive, and a time to let him enjoy himself as only a hatchling truly could. Which is exactly what he was already doing. He pranced and danced his way to the door, hopping around in circles, pouncing invisible foes, and generally making an adorable fool of himself.

We were all laughing as we followed him to the door. He tried to jump up and get his paws on the latch, but couldn't quite reach. Given that I didn't want him to injure himself immediately after finally being allowed to play freely again, I opened the door before he could make a second attempt. A blast of cold wind rushed inward, swirling snow around Valar's face. He snapped at the snowflakes, and then looked back at us, his eyes wide.

"It's cold!"

"I know it's cold, Valar." I licked his blue marked muzzle. "It's always cold when it snows."

"Imma catch the snows!" Valar gleefully announced his impossible intentions, and then bound out into the cascading whiteness.

I followed him into Amaleen's backyard with Kylaryn and my love right upon my tail. As soon as he was outside, Valar was leaping into the air, snapping his jaws at all the snowflakes he could. He lashed out with his paws as though he thought he could snatch the very snow itself from the air and claim it as he'd claimed so many blankets.

"Be careful now, Valar," I advised him. Not that it was going to do any good.

"No!" Valar flat out rejected my advice. "Imma play!"

Well, I certainly couldn't argue with that. Especially after all the play time I'd already promised him. So we followed him around the extent of Amaleen's garden to let him play his little hatchling heart out. Gods knew he'd earned it by then. As I watched him romp around the yard, chasing down snowflakes, skidding across the cold ground and vanishing when he pounced deeper drifts, I wondered if I had half as much strength in me as my son had in himself. If I was injured so badly, would I have recovered so well? Would I have stayed so hopeful? So happy just to be alive even through my darkest hours? Perhaps it was simply easier for a hatchling. So often they had little concept of the world beyond the simple joy of life. It was a lesson I wished was easier to learn for the rest of us.

My thoughts were interrupted when something cold exploded against my shoulder. I yelped in surprise, whirling around, half expecting to find an attacker there. Instead there was only Amaleen, packing another snowball between her hands and grinning quite wickedly at me. Before I ask her what she was on about, she hurled the second snowball at me just as hard as the first. This one burst apart against my chest plates.

"What are you doing that for?" I asked, ducking my head. I thought she was mad at me.

"Don't you dragons ever have snowball fights?" Amaleen giggled and scooped up more snow, rolling it between her hands.

"Snowball fights?" I blinked and pulled my head back, my neck curling into an S. "It does not sound like a very effective combat tactic."

"That's because it's a game, you daft lizard," Amaleen said, laughing. "You make snowballs and throw them at each other. It's fun!"

"So the last person to submit is the winner?"

"There's not usually a winner," Amaleen said, shaking her head. "Though, sometimes people do get hit in the face or the groin and then everyone laughs."

"Is it my turn, then?" I cocked my head, only for a third snowball to hit me right between the horns. I yelped and jerked my head back, hissing. "Oh, now you're dead!"

"That's the spirit!" Amaleen said, giggling and dashing behind a tree for cover. "Just remember, you're a lot stronger than I am, so no throwing it hard! Probably gonna knock me on my ass anyway."

"You should have thought about that before you declared war on The Dread Sky," I hissed at her, grinning. I tried to pack up a snowball under my paw, and found that I couldn't quite get it to work. "Wait, wait, how do you make them?"

Amaleen peeked out from behind her tree. "I can't believe you've never done this. You have to use both hands!"

"But that gives you an advantage!" I muttered, sitting back upon my haunches to pack the snow between my paws. "I have to sit down to make a snowball."

"And your ten times stronger than me, so I think it balances out!" She hurled one at me from around the tree, but it sailed wide. "Tell you what. You don't throw them very hard at me, and I won't aim mine at your nuts while you're sitting down."

"Deal!" I said, laughing.

I packed up a big snowball, and when Amaleen ran for cover behind another tree, I quickly made a smaller one. I called Valar, and whispered into his ears. He giggled, and I set the smaller snowball upon his back. His injury didn't keep him from lifting his wings to cradle the snowball as he slunk off into the falling whiteness. Then I picked up my snowball, and waited for Amaleen to show herself. As soon as she popped out from behind her tree, I hurled my larger snowball...

...Directly at Kylaryn. The blued scaled female was sitting on her own haunches, trying to figure out what kind of idiocy I was up to when the snowball smashed against her chest plates, splattering her with icy white globs. She yelped in surprise, snarling at me. Amaleen burst out laughing, which was when Valar initiated the second phase of my attack plan. While Amaleen was laughing at my sneak attack on Kylaryn, Valar slunk up behind her, plopped onto his haunches, and hurled his own snowball directly at Amaleen.

Given his relative size, I shouldn't have been surprised when it struck her right in the ass. She yelped just like Kylaryn had and grabbed at the snow mark across her cloak, over her rump. Valar gigged like mad and ran off out of sight once more, claiming victory. Amaleen was soon laughing as well.

"The Dread Sky strikes-OOOOPPH!" My victorious proclamation was ended early when Kylaryn charged full tilt into me and knocked me sprawling onto my side. In a flash she was atop me, pinning me down in the much the same way I'd once pinned her down. The only real difference was that instead of exchanging claw and bite marks, she was jamming a pawful of freezing cold snow against my face. I squirmed, laughing and trying to pull away. "Truce, Truce!"

"No truce for sneak-attackers!" Kylaryn said through her own laughter. When the snow in her paw had melted, she scooped up another big paw full of it, twisted around, and pressed the cold stuff directly to my sheath and balls.

"COLD!" I squealed in alarm.

Laughing, Kylaryn hopped off of me and dashed away through the snow before I could retaliate. I rolled back to my paws with a shiver, my scales all clicking together. I glanced around for Amaleen, and when I saw that she wasn't about to hurl another snowball at me, I grinned. "We've got to get the others to join in. Perhaps we could even make a team! I'd wager Amaleen and my sister and I could best the rest of you!"

"What?" Kylaryn hissed playfully. "Am I not good enough for your team?"

"You," I grinned at her, snapping my jaws. "Can't be on my team because of that little stunt you just pulled! I plan to retaliate."

"Oh, I see how it is," Kylaryn laughed. "Fine then. I'm going to go and get Korvarak and Voskalar and we're going to bury you under that snow!"

Giggling to herself like a gleeful hatchling, Kylaryn dashed off through the snow. I had not seen her that happy in ages. It was a strange thing, the wonders that a hatchling's joyful exuberance could do for another's mood. Between Valar's excitement and Amaleen's game, the rest of us seemed to have absorbed more happiness than we could possibly stand to bear alone. So we had to spread it.

"Valar," I called out.

Soon he dashed through the snow towards me. As he got near, he tried to come to a stop, only for his paws to slip out from under him in the snow. He skidded the rest of the way on his belly, and despite how cold that must have been, he didn't seem to mind at all. Instead, he simply cried out, "WHEEEEEEEE!" until he came to a stop.

Valar popped back up to his paws. He grinned at me, his wings half unfurled. He swished his tail against the snow, and shook himself. His black body was now marked with even more white than it was blue. As soon as the snow melted from his warmth there was more of it falling upon him.

"Valar, we're going to have a snowball fight with the others." I pulled him close with a paw as if telling him tactical secrets. "You can be on my team, along with Amaleen and Aunt Nary. Your mother, Korvarak, and Voskalar are the enemy team. We have to hit them with as many snow balls and things as we can!"

Valar gasped, his eyes lighting up. "I getta throw stuff at Mother?!"

"Yes!"

"And not get in trouble?!"

"Yes!"

"Yay!" Valar dashed off, following his mother's paw prints through the snow.

"Valar!" I said, laughing. "Wait!"

Valar of course did no such thing. I glanced at Amaleen as she approached me, grinning. "We'd better go and catch him."

Amaleen grinned and nodded. I started forward at a swift pace and she jogged alongside me. "This really is a fun game," I admitted with a grin.

"Just wait till I teach you all how to build a snow fortress!"

"There are such things?" That sounded like a baffling yet delightful concept.

"Yes! You'll love them."

I paused for only a moment to express that very sentiment in a more personal manner. I lay my head against her shoulder, nuzzling at her ear through the hood of her cloak. "I love you, Amaleen."

Amaleen's embrace could have turned the coldest snow into the warmest ray of sunshine. "I love you too, Valyrym."

---

Chapter Nine

Winter came, and with it we brought hell to the soldiers of Illandra. As the silver rains were replaced by heavy snow, we struck at the invaders time and again. All throughout the winter, the people of Aran'alia raised an army of their own. They gathered men and woman from every city and village, pooled them into a centralized army, and trained them as one. At first it was hardly an army worthy of battle with an experienced force, and so we bought them time. All winter long we forced ourselves into the nightmares of the Illandrans.

Thanks to the increasingly heavy blanket of white that coated the land, the Illandrans were going nowhere. Movement for even a small group of people was heavily restricted, yet alone a massive army. But for a dragon, winter held no such impediment to travel no matter how deep the earth's snowy armor became. Our wings could take us anywhere we wished to go. We took the name of my earliest plan, and we made it official. We could fly anywhere, strike at them any time. No matter the weather, no matter the darkness, we could slay them any time we wished.

We were Death In The Night.

Our first few attacks were always centered on that forward camp. Each time they began to rebuild what we'd destroyed, we burned it back down. Every officer that was sent in to replace those we'd killed was soon slain themselves. That first winter, we were on our own. The Aran'alia army was not ready to wade into battle and the snows would hamper their progress as much as it hampered the Illandrans. It made little difference. Under cover of darkness or blizzard we brought chaos to that camp. Often we returned bearing new scars to be proud of. A few times they even tried to poison us, but thanks to Amaleen's valiant efforts in ensuring we built up a tolerance their efforts were in vain. The poison made us sick, but not so sick as to take our lives or prevent us from returning home.

After the first few attacks, they thought they were getting clever. They removed all traces of obvious command and officer tents, mixed their superiors in with the rest of the men. Yet, in the nighttime, they rarely bothered to look up. Never spotted the dragons circling overhead, watching them at night. They might have hidden their commanders dwellings, but with enough surveillance it was not that hard to discern which men were giving the orders, and which taking them.

We did not want to give them too many chances to be prepared. Attack often enough, and I was sure they'd adapt new tactics to bring us down. I had no desire for our attacks to grew to predictable. So, after we'd attacked their camp about four times, it was time for a new target.

On our next combat flight, we bypassed their forward camp entirely, and headed towards the much larger encampment of soldiers closer to the old border with Vurnel. They had thousands of men there, and even I was not so arrogant as to think we could kill them all and drive them away. At least not in one night. Yet the arrogance of the average dragon seemed matched only by the commander of the Illandran armies. Despite all the attacks we had made upon his forward base, they had done little to prepare their primary army for attacks from the sky. They seemed plenty fortified against an infantry invasion, yet we were hardly a standard infantry.

For as long as there was snow upon the groud, there was fire and devestation raining down upon the Illandrans. Each time we hit their primary camp, we did it a little differently. I wanted our numbers to seem fluid. No need for them to know how many of us there were. To that end, we often divided ourselves up. One of us would attack the main section of camp where the important officers and generals were. Another would attack far away, striking the supply lines trudging through snow well behind the camp. When we had learned just how long the flights took, some of us remained behind and timed an attack on the forward base for the same night the rest of us attacked the main camp.

I wanted to kill their commanders, but that proved a more daunting task. In what seemed an impressively short period of time they had built themselves a small fortress. Then again, they had been here longer than I'd realized and had a nearly unlimited pool of workers and plenty of resources. As an army used to conquering foreign lands, they were likely quite experienced in building sturdy citadels in as short a period of time as possible. It was a keep of wood and stone in the central area of their camp. Whenever we attacked, anyone of importance was rushed inside the place. I could light the wooden parts of it on fire but the central portion that was made from stone was decidedly more difficult to breech.

There also seemed to be a town of sorts growing around that central keep. More and more permanent buildings began to pop up around it each time we attacked, though we burnt down as many as we could. Seeing such lasting structures built in the middle of their camp was a little disconcerting, as it told me their army would not be easily driven away. No one went to the effort to build such a thing if they did not intend to stay. It seemed that they knew this was likely to be a long, and lasting war and were prepared to undertake whatever they must in order to win it. It was almost as if they had already assumed they were going to win eventually, and thought they might as well get started on the permanent bastion they would later use to defend their stolen lands.

They had also set up checkpoints and shelters all along the road upon which they moved their supplies. Each shelter was kept stocked with men and beasts to help keep the roads clear in the winter. Though I was sure that their fortress held large stocks of food hidden away, they continued to ship supplies. Yet even with man and beast working the road, the snows made such shipments difficult. We aimed to make it even more difficult. Some nights we bypassed an attack on the camps entirely in order to spend the whole night burning and destroying supply lines.

When we grew especially bold, we even made our way to the larger cities on the border. Lavia was our first target. It was the furthest I had ever flown to the east, and the trip took us quite some time. I wished I could have seen Lavia before it had been conquered. I would have loved to see Lavia as their friend, as it would seemed a beautiful place. Flying towards it, we passed large stretches of land marked with line after orderly line of trees. Their branches looked spiny and skeletal in the middle of winter. Little frozen creeks lay between each row of trees. I had never seen such a thing, and soon came to realize those were the groves of apple trees Lenira once told me about.

The city itself seemed a massive thing to me. Larger by far than Sigil Stones, and packed with houses and shops and run through with winding, narrow streets. The city seemed to stretch on in all directions, rising and falling as larger buildings loomed like mountains towards the city's center before falling away again. Towards the outer edges of the city, the houses were all clustered tightly together with a network of tiny streets and alleyways twisting through them like veins. Many of the homes there were made of wood, or bricks of clay and straw. The roofs were often more flat, or angled in simple ways. It seemed not many people here collected the rain water they way they did back home.

Home. Strange to think that I had come to consider Sigil Stones my home.

It was stranger still to think that I once considered Sigil Stones a large city. There were probably more people living in Lavia than the Aran'alia Army could count among its entire ranks. And yet the country of Illandra had somehow conquered this place? I was starting to understand the scope of their army. In truth I imagine Lavia was not as large as I thought. It was simply the first full-scale human city I had truly laid eyes upon.

Lavia also had its own rather imposing looking castle in the center of the city. There was a large, flat-topped hill that overlooked the surrounding area, and atop it sat an impressively fortified structure. The castle had a central keep that towered above the rest of it, with a sprawling courtyard along with a few outbuildings, and multiple levels of terraced walls and gates protecting it from invasion. It did not look heavily damaged, despite the fact an Illadran flag now flew above it. It appeared that Lavia simply surrendered to Illandra early in the battle to spare their people harm.

I had little desire to harm the people of Lavia either. Rather, I had come for the bridges that spanned the river. The river once marked the border between Aran'alia and Vurnel, and was spanned in three locations along Lavia by wide bridges supported by heavy stone arches anchored at several places. Though the anchor points were stone, the bulk of the bridges themselves were constructed of wood. By destroying all three of them, we would heavily hamper Illandra's movement of troops and supplies into the area. Though there were other bridges further away, the three that stretched into Lavia were the most central access points.

As we flew above Lavia, the streets seemed mostly deserted. Here and there torchlight bobbled and swayed, casting an orange glow upon the light dusting of snow that covered the ground. The weather here seemed as though it had been more mild. Roofs and streets still appeared white but where deep Aran'alia had several feet of snow, here they seemed to have only several inches.

It looked as though the Illandran's had imposed a curfew on the town. I considered dive bombing a few soldiers, or attacking the castle itself, but decided against it. We only had so much time before we needed to make our way back home, and our objective was the bridges, and I suspected there was little damage we could do to that castle anyway.

We split up. I took one bridge on my own, and sent Kylaryn and Voskalar to another. Narymiryn and Korvarak went to the third bridge, and between our fire, claws and teeth, we had soon severed every access point from Vurnel into Illandra. We sent their burning bridges tumbling into the water to be washed away by the icy river. I also saw that they had several ports with docked ferries loaded with supplies, and as there was not enough ice to impede a ferry, I gave the order to have those burned as well.

With flames roaring and smoke rising into the night sky, we retreated off into the darkness. Let them wonder what had happened. Their uncertainty was important to me. As was the fear of the unknown. When they had chosen to invade this land, they did so on their own terms. They did so with the assumption that Aran'alia was weak, and could not strike deep into the heart of their enemy. How wrong they were.

Let them fear that which could strike them anywhere. Let them fear Death In The Night.

There was a cost for us. Striking Illandra so deeply took Kylaryn and I away from Valar. We could fly from Sigil Stones to the forward base and back in a matter of days. But to make it to their primary encampment and back took over a week, and to reach Lavia took considerably longer. It was at least as far to Lavia as it was to Korvarak's home, and that took a week of flight in each direction. Aran'alia was a vast place, and I had not truly realized how far into the country they had already pushed until I followed their supply lines back to the river.

Yet even after the size of their army and the depth of their invasion became increasingly clear, I refused to acknowledge the possibility that we might lose this land. I did not want to think about what would happen if they ever drew close enough to Sigil Stones with a force large enough to conquer it. I would be forced to evacuate Valar, and Amaleen, and Amaleen might not go willingly. If she wished to stay and defend her home even to the death...

...I had promised to share her burden, had I not?

We made our absence up to Valar whenever we had the chance. When we were home, we played with him as much as possible. He had gotten used to living in Sigil Stones now, and barely even mentioned our cavern. Valar also overcame his fear of the armored guards. I think bringing him along to the war meetings I attended helped him get used to being around such men. It also helped that Amaleen had been assigned permanent bodyguards to protect her during times of war. Though at first they seemed gruff, it was not long before even they had joined into our frequent snowball fights.

Yes, Alia, we really did have frequent snowball fights.

And why not? Valar loved to play in the snow. After our first skirmish when Amaleen had taught us the basics, it wasn't long before Valar wanted to play that game every day. It quickly began part of his morning routine. As soon as I opened the door to our home in Amaleen's backyard, Valar ran outside, made a snowball, and hurled it back at me.

"Snowball fight! Snowball fight!" He chirped and laughed and ran about in the snow.

Often times we built immense snow fortresses in the street that ran in front of Amaleen's house. Amaleen showed us the general idea of turning a snowball into a snow boulder, and a snow boulder into a snow brick. It was not long before we had built such structures nearly as tall as the nearby houses. We hid behind them, using them as cover while we sat upon our haunches, packing snowball after snowball, and hurling it at each other. Sometimes we grew bold, and charged down the street to ram ourselves right through the other's snow fortress.

We soon found we had to set up a few rules. The first rule was no flying. We found it was simply too tempting for a dragon to land in any inviting looking spot he happened to spy from the air. Sure, it was a lot of fun to land behind someone's house, sneak around through their backyard, and pelt unsuspecting foes from behind. But a few shattered fences and broken windows later, and we quickly learned people did not like having dragons tromping through their yards or taking cover behind their walls.

Rule two was no climbing upon a house. Sure, it was fun to scale up onto someone's roof and hurl snowballs down upon your enemies, but it only took one dragon falling through one roof and destroying someone's living room to make the homeowners quite irate. Really, if you ask me they should have simply built a sturdier roof. It was not my fault that after drinking a bit of rum and being told I couldn't land in anyone's backyard anymore that perching upon their roof seemed the next best idea.

No it was not my fault, Alia. It was the fault of the roof builder. Should have made it stronger.

Those days were the best parts of winter.

It was a wonderful release, simply playing like a bunch of oversized hatchlings. We were able to forget that we were at war, able to forgot all the people we had killed and all the wounds we had suffered. None of us had taken any serious injury, and for that I was thankful. But even to a dragon, the screams of men being torn apart or burned to death lingered longer in my memories than I had expected them to. Every battle we fought, I repeated my words. Again and again I told them that Aran'alia would always live free. On and on I told them to go home to their families, that they did not have to be here, dying this way. Sometimes I felt better that we only killed men who had chosen to stay. Other times I realized conscripts weren't given a choice.

During the winter Narymiryn reached her receptive period. As her brother, the changes in her scent did little to entice me the way they would the other males. Yet she made sure to keep her distance from Korvarak and Voskalar for a little while. I did encourage her to go and be with Korvarak, told that she would not regret having an egg. Yet for now she refused. I understood why well enough. We were at war, and she did not want to have a young life relying on her while she was busy fighting for her homeland. As it was, I felt guilty enough about leaving Valar alone for long stretches.

In fact, as the war went on that guilt grew. After a time, Valar did not cry as much when he heard we had to leave again. But that didn't stop him from clinging to my foreleg or Kylaryn's tail, sniffling to himself and begging us to come back soon. I think I may have underestimated how hard it would be for him to get used to us being away for long stretches. Each time we returned his joy born from laying eyes upon us once more seemed a little greater. I began to wonder if Valar had somehow come to realize one day we might not come back.

At that point the strength of my War Council became a little harder for me to maintain. It simply did not feel comfortable taking both Kylaryn and myself away from Valar. If something went horribly wrong he could lose us both in one fell swoop. From then on, any time we planned a mission I felt we did not need five dragons for, one of us remained behind.

Usually it was Kylaryn. After all, without truly intending it I had become the leader of our group. I planned our assaults and I gave the orders. I was responsible for our safety. As such, I did not like to let them go into battle without me. Sometimes Valar wanted me to stay. Other times, I could see vengeance burning in Kylaryn's eyes. Despite all the damage we had inflicted upon those humans, I knew it was not enough for her. It might never be enough for her. She did not think I saw it, but I did. I knew that feeling all too well. Valar had been but a wing beat from the edge of death as I cradled him in my arms. And I knew in my heart if my son had died I would have never been able to slay enough Illandrans to quench my desire for revenge.

Revenge could drive a dragon to madness.

With four dragons, we could not inflict quite as much damage, but we still did enough. There was always something new to destroy, someone new to slay. Despite all the causalities we inflicted upon their forward base, they always seemed to replenish their supply of troops. Sometimes when we hit their supply lines, we got lucky and stumbled upon transport wagons full of fresh troops. They made easy targets, and many men perished those nights. And yet, no matter how many of them we slew, there were always more. The King of Illandra seemed a cold man, more than willing to throw as many soldiers as needed into Aran'alia until at last they overwhelmed us and drained us dry.

When spring came, and the snows melted, their armies began to march once more. As more men poured into deep Aran'alia I feared not even five dragons could hold them back. The Army of Anan'alia might not truly be ready for battle, but our resolve would have to be forged in fire. When word first came that movement had been spotted among the front line base, Namar and I decided then and there we would have to annihilate that base.

By then Aran'alia had already set up its own front line positions in key places, and the five of us began to ferry special troops even further forward. We set up ambushes, we set up choke points, we set up traps and hazards. We brought barrels of oil and spirits, and we brought forth the most experienced and most talented soldiers and archers Aran'alia had to offer.

When the time of our army's first battle was at hand, there were over five hundred Illandran soldiers in that forward base, perhaps even a thousand. If we were to have any real chance of winning this war, we would have to wipe them out completely. Our best chance of success was to mire the Illandrans in this land so deeply to and inflict losses so devastating that they were eventually forced to pull back completely.

I had already made myself a monster in their eyes. A monster who's influence spread like a plague through rumor and hearsay all the way back to Illandra. Little did I know at the time what was being spoken of the Aran'alian dragons. Of myself in particular. I was the vile beast who murdered men in their sleep and burned them in their beds. I was the monster who called himself The Dread Sky and taunted their fallen from the gloomy confines of his namesake. I was the symbol of the wickedness of this untamed land that had to be conquered and broken like some wild steed.

We gradually came to learn a little of the influence we'd had on these men thanks captured soldiers taken back to Sigil Stones for interrogation. A couple of times we had even gotten lucky and caught high ranking officers. Through his questioning, Namar had learned that many of their men were increasingly afraid of dragons. They had come here thinking they would fight little more than local militias and angry peasants. Instead, they found themselves beset seemingly every night by monsters from their nightmares.

The heartland of Illandra had not seen dragons for generations, and after their people had stolen my clan's future like a star from the sky and dashed it upon the ground, they thought us scattered like ashes. Word of our deeds had spread far through their army, and had a great effect upon their morale. Yet even then we did not know just how far the rumors had spread, nor how large they had grown.

As the days before our armies first great battle dwindled, Namar and his people presented us with gifts. They made a great show of it, calling all five of us into their town's central plaza. A great crowd was already assembled. At the forefront of it was a large portion of our army. They all had lovely uniforms now, tailored to match those of the Aran'alia officers. The colors of Sigil Stones, and now all of Aran'alia were black and a deep indigo blue, outlined in silver and gold. Most of them wore leather armor, many with metal studs throughout the leather. Others were silvery chain mail, and a few troops even wore mail of heavy metal plates that overlapped each other. They seemed to be working hard to emulate the natural armor we dragons enjoyed. Most of them also had weapons strapped to them somewhere; whether it was a sword at their hip or an axe across their shoulders, or a crossbow to their back. Many others also carried spears and halberds. They certainly looked the part of an army.

Near the center of the plaza, they had something large covered up with canvas tarps. I could tell from the way Amaleen beamed at me that she was quite proud of whatever was under them. Namar was taking his time, walking through the crowd, inspecting some of the soldiers, and Amaleen seemed in no hurry to reveal what they had gathered us here for, so I took to speculating.

"I suspect this has something to do with all those measurements they took a while back," I murmured, just loud enough for the other dragons to hear.

"I told you," Korvarak said with a grin. "It's so they could build us oversized coffins when we inevitably fall in battle."

"Ever the optimist," I muttered, lashing my tail.

"Val would need a separate coffin just for his ego," Kylaryn said, smirking at me.

"And you shall need a separate coffin for that big mouth," I said right back to her, though I meant it playfully and she knew it.

"Children, children," Amaleen said, drawing our attention. "If you're about done arguing amongst yourselves, Namar would like to show you what he's been working on for the last few months."

"I should hope he's been working on training that army behind you," I said, gesturing at the men with a paw. I must have said it a bit louder than I thought, as some of the soldiers laughed at my jest.

"Besides that," Amaleen grinned. She waved her hand towards the bald blacksmith turned general. "Namar?"

Namar simply smiled at us. He was never a man for more words than necessary. I rather thought old Asgir could do with a trip to Sigil Stones to learn that particular lesson from Namar. Might do the old bastard some good to shut up for a while. I did not know how he must get on by himself. Probably by talking to his damn beard.

Namar walked to the large tarp draped over the hidden structure, and carefully pulled it away. Beneath it were several large tables all pressed together. Organized atop the various tables were all manner of metal objects. Curved plates, flat bits, deeply arched sections of metal, all of which had strange leather straps connected to them. None of us seemed to know what to make of them at first. Amaleen picked up a long, silvery-gray oblong piece of metal, and walked towards me. Leather strips swayed beneath it.

"Lower your head," Amaleen said softly.

"Lower my head? Is that..."

It was. I slowly lowered my head, and Amaleen gently pressed the helmet down atop my muzzle. It fit surprisingly well, Namar had been quite exacting in his measurements. Scalloped edges around the helmet fit down against my horns and made way for my ears and frills. Large, wide holes in it fit just across my eyes. The helmet fit all the way down my snout where more scalloped edges lay around my nostrils. Amaleen carefully buckled the straps under my chin, and I lifted my head. Peering out through the eye holes, I looked back at the table. Suddenly the rest of the pieces all made sense to me.

Armor. They had made us all armor. There were helmets, there were plates to protect our throats, circular bits to protect our joints, larger plates for our underbellies, even special padded sections to protect our genitals. It was not a full suit like a human might wear, such a thing was nearly impossible for a dragon. Rather, Namar had simply taken it to heart to protect all the vulnerable areas I'd explained to him.

When it all became clear, when I realized just how far these people had gone to protect us just as we protected them, I felt my heart swelling inside my chest. At that moment, I had never been so proud to be a dragon. Never been so proud to protect that city, or to swear myself to that land. At that moment, I tipped my head back, and as loudly as I could, I roared to the skies, and to the city itself.

Sigil Stones roared back.

---

Clad in our armor, we swept through the sky into battle. This was our first daylight battle. No longer would we be able to hide ourselves, or conceal our numbers. Yet we were hardly out of tricks. Rather than fly down head on as they might expect the land's guardian dragons to do, we swept out wide, flying over the mountains to get behind them without their knowledge. At the back of their army marched their mounted cavalry, and that was our first target. After looping around we swooped low to the ground and flew in just above the lay of the land. Just as we reached the rear flank of the army, we spread out.

In five places we punched into the rearward formation, unleashing nightmares. As one, we dropped to the earth in their midst and cut them apart. We roared, we carved through flesh with teeth and claw and tail, and we unleashed fire against anything that looked flammable. Screams of terror and agony from man and horse alike shook the air. All throughout their rear line, we tore through them. It was not long before the instincts of the many horses overwhelmed discipline and training. After all, beasts that long served as prey for creatures such as us could not fight that natural terror for long.

As their terror grew, many horses bolted forward and began to trample other soldiers. We chased them, and the horses stampeded into the back of the ranks of archers and infantry. And when those soldiers realized their mounted Calvary was suddenly running down their own men, they too began to surge forward.

Soon it seemed as though half the army was racing to get out of the way of the horses. Officers shouted in vain for their men to control themselves, but once the panic set in it was hard to contain. We kept up the chase and the battle just enough to keep driving those horses forward as far as we could. The bulk of the panicking soldiers made it up the side of a line of gently sloped hills, and began pick up speed as they ran down the other side. Which was part of the plan. Laying at the bottom of that hill were all manner of spikes and sharp implements jutting up from the ground, concealed by the tall grasses and spring wildflowers.

The first line of men that had broken away from the charging horses met the spikes full on. Some tumbled down the hillside and impaled their chests, faces or bellies upon the spikes. Others kept their footing only end up with wooden spines driven deeply into their thighs and legs. A second wave of men behind them found themselves unable to stop in time to avoid being stuck by the remaining spikes, or slamming into the men already impaled upon them. Screams and moans of agony began to fill the air with terrible music.

Much of the mounted Calvary itself tried to go around the hills. In some cases it was because a rider regained control of his horse. In other instances it was simply because the horses wanted to escape and level ground seemed a safer bet than a rising hill. Some men managed to force their horses to scale the hill and head down the other side, leaping over the lines of wounded wound stuck upon the spikes. It was not far after that when some of them began to plunge through carefully hidden pitfalls. Some holes were simply deep while others shallow but lined spikes. We had been at work at this for a long time. It might not be enough to stop the entire Illandran army, but it would certainly send the message that they would not take this land without heavy loss.

Those who went between the hills, and those who had been marching on flatter ground to begin with were not safe from hidden traps. It was in such places that heavy oils had poured all across the grass throughout the night before our men retreated. We'd chosen the flammable oils because they were harder to wash away should it rain. Each of the passes between hills was also blocked off by heavy bales of hay soaked for days in the same oils.

We kept up our assault on the rearward flank, driving as many of them forward as we could. We remained careful not to get too surrounded by men brave enough to face us down. I kept myself moving, and the others did the same. My tail splattered skulls, my claws rent bowels, and my teeth found purchase in flesh wherever possible. Ahead of us, the officers did what they could to turn the terrified stampede into a more orderly charge. But we did not follow.

Instead, when the time was right, we all leapt back into the skies. As one, we gave a loud, keening roar, a different sound that the roars we'd already given today. It was a signal to our own men, hidden away within the next few lines of hills that it was time for them to unleash their own brand of terror. As soon as soldiers and men on horseback were pouring through the passes between the hills, arrows filled the sky, and began to rain down upon our enemies.

Men cried out anew as they were pierced by the hail of bolts, fresh blood spilling upon the thirsty earth. Officers called for men to take cover and raise their shields if they had them to wait for the arrows to fall. Which was in fact, part of our plan. Only half our archers had unleashed their nocked arrows. As soon as the men began looking for places to take cover, or hunkered down beneath their shields, our soldiers released their second volley. This time, the arrows that hurtled down upon the Illandrans were on fire. By the time the soldiers seeking shelter noticed the slickness of the grass, or the smell of oil emanating from the hay, flames were erupting all around them. It was not long before the entire area between the hillsides had turned into a field of fire, with a large portion of their army trapped in the middle.

Men shrieked in excruciating pain as flesh was scorched and lungs seared. The horses still alive died the same way, and for a moment, I felt far more pity for those simple beasts than I did the men who forced them to come to this land. Those not yet burning scattered in all directions, trying to escape the flames. Some of them found safe ground, others found only more traps. All the archers nocked a new arrow and unleashed a third volley that downed quite a few more men.

Despite all this, there was still a large number of Illandran soldiers who were not yet injured. We had expected as much, but all our traps and plans had tilted the odds quite decidedly in our favor. Officers still alive did what they could to rally their troops, and the surviving men began to regroup beyond the fires that claimed so many of their kin. The five of us regrouped as well, and struck at will at the regrouping soldiers. I swooped low and flamed a large group of them. Kylaryn dropped to the ground, killed a few and tossed a few more around then leapt to the skies once more.

Soon, a strange, roar-like sound began to roll across the hills. At first, I had no idea what it was, but as the sound grew and grew, I realized it was the battle cry of the Aran'alians. They might have small voices on their own, but when they shouted as one they could roar like a dragon. As they began to pour across the grassy, stone-studded hills, all the black and blue colors they bore made them look like bruise-toned waves cresting a green ocean. And like the ocean tide they washed across the land, pouring towards the Illandran soldiers. Their roar grew and grew until the first wave of soldiers from Aran'alia slammed into a hastily organized wall of Illandrans.

From then on, I could scarcely discern what was truly happening through all the chaos. From above the battle looked like one writhing, twisting mass of bloodied humanity. I could hardly make out the differences between the indigo, black and gold colors of Aran'alia, and the silvery gray and sky blue tones of Illandra. I certainly couldn't see who bore Sigil Stone's golden emblem, and who bore the outline of a five towered keep. It would make wading into the fray quite difficult. I settled for picking off those I could easily tell as my enemies.

The air was soon filled with the coppery scent of freshly spilled blood, and the terrible, acrid smell of burnt hair and flesh. The screams and battle cries below were joined by the constant ringing din of steel clashing with steel. The sounds all twisted into one terrible, unending cacophony of battle. I had never heard anything like it, even when we had attacked the human camps ourselves.

For the first time, the ferocity of true war unfolding beneath me. It was unsettling even to a dragon. Men were dying down there. Men I cared about. And this was only their first battle. This terrible thing, this war...this was what they would face for months, perhaps years upon years until at last they were conquered, or had driven their invaders away. Still, I had no time to pity our fate. Such was the wind that carried us.

As another wave of Aran'alians crested the hills and poured through the rocky passes between them, the numbers tilted further in our favor. I folded my wings and landed behind the thick of the fray to further bloody my paws. A few Illandrans ran towards me. I have no idea if they were brave, foolhardy, or simply trying to flee. Either way they did not live long, and their blood soon further stained the grasses already slick with crimson.

I saw Kylaryn swooping low, no doubt to make a pass with her fire. In draconic I called out, trying to ensure my voice rose above the furious noise of battle. "Do not use your fire on the main battle! You will burn our own men!"

Whether Kylaryn heard me or came to the same conclusion when she got low enough to see how tightly locked in combat everyone was, she did not unleash her flames. Instead she just flew over everyone's heads, just out of melee range. Now and then she dove and snatched up an isolated enemy or an archer, and hurled them aside. A few fired arrows at her yet the bolts were all turned away by armor and scale.

Behind us, a group of archers had set up upon a hill to fire into the melee. They either had excellent vision and aim, or did not care if they hit their own men so long as they made the battle more difficult for us. Soon, some of them realized that I had landed, and began to fire a few more arrows in my direction as well. I gave a roar to draw the attention of my kin, and then called out an order.

"The archers on the hill! Someone get rid of them!"

My sister was nearest, and it was not long before Narymiryn was strafing the hill with her fire. Some of the archers burned, others scrambled out of the way and attempted to retaliate. Nary landed, and charged across the hillside like a furious bull. She slammed her helmet-clad head into one of the men, lashed her tail into the face of another, and then whirled around to engage the remaining archers.

I took a moment to be proud of my sister, and then I looked for my own target. I suspected mounted officers should be the easiest to pick out amongst the battle. I spotted one man wheeling his horse about, waving his sword in the air as he shouted orders. The officer was doing an admirable job of keeping his remaining men fighting in something resembling an orderly fashion. He was also no poor combatant in his own right. One of our man came towards him with a spear, but the officer spun his horse. The animal reared up and planted its hoof in the soldier's face, shattering it completely. As he fell, another of our troops nocked an arrow but the officer saw him taking aim. He got his shield in the way just in time and though the arrow punched through the back of his shield, it lodged there and went no further.

I doubted his shield would offer him such protection against a dragon. I pushed deeper into the battle. Humans were screaming and fighting and falling around me. There was so much movement, so much bloodshed it was hard to comprehend. I tried to keep my focus on my mounted target, and for my efforts I barely registered the Illandran fighting his way through the crowd towards me until he swung his sword at my throat. His blade hit the steel plates protecting my throat and sent a painful jolt through my neck. I lashed out with the back of my paw, caught them man in the chest and sent him hurtling back across the ground. My throat stung, but the armor had spared me what might have been a mortal wound. I quickly told myself to thank Namar for the armor when this was all over.

Forcing my way through such a pitched battle was a nearly overwhelming experience. It was far different from raiding an enemy camp or stronghold where everyone simply wanted to kill you. Here, half the people fighting were on my side, and there was nothing but chaos all around me. So much so that it was quite distracting. Especially when I began to realize I had to keep track of everything going on all around me not just for my own safety but to ensure I didn't strike down one of my own men. In that way, I felt as much a battlefield virgin as the Aran'alian soldiers in their first battle.

But on and on I fought. Several more times my armor protected me. An arrow clanged off my helmet where it likely would have sunk into my snout. Someone tried to drive a spear into the softer area just behind my shoulder. My armor deflected the blow, yet his armor did little to stop the spines of my tail from punching holes through his chest. Given that he seemed to know where to aim his spear better than most, I felt I had likely just avenged one of my kin.

Rest well, unknown dragon. You are avenged.

A few times I was able to help Aran'alian soldiers as well. One man was knocked to the ground with an Illandran about to run him through. I snapped my teeth down through the Illandran's skull, and jerked my head to the side, flinging him away. Two of our man were locked in battle just in front of me, fighting a clearly superior opponent wielding two swords at once. With a furious snarl I raked my claws all down his back, and as he collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his wounds, my allies finished him off.

By the time I had nearly reached the mounted officer, our people were starting to overwhelm the Illandrans. The amount of indigo and black I saw flashing amongst the men was nearly double that of the sky blue and gray still present. By then the officer had slain a few more of our people, and taken a few more arrows in his shield. Someone yelled something to him, and he wheeled his horse around to face me. A soldier tossed him up a spear, and the man spurred his horse into a charge as he leveled the spear point directly at my chest.

I had heard of men fighting and sometimes killing dragons this way. After all, with a sharp enough spear and enough force driving it, even a human could penetrate both our chest plates and our sternum to reach our heart. Yet this was my first time being charged by a man with a lance on horseback. It was almost surreal. I could not help but imagine how heroic he must look to his own people. Risking his own life to charge down the monstrous beast who'd been wreaking havoc among his people for months. For a second, everything seemed to move in a slow, almost dreamlike state. Gray and blue barding swished and swayed at the sides of his horse as he charged me, the lance point bounced up and down just slightly.

My first instinct was to burn him. But there were a lot of our men around, and I did not want to burn them as well. He might also keep charging even while on fire, and the idea of getting stuck in the chest with a flaming lance did not sound pleasant. Nor did the idea of engaging in battle with a highly experienced soldier on an agile, well trained mount. So as he streaked towards me, I picked up the nearest armored Illandran corpse and hurled it sharply at the man. The body soared just over the startled horse's head and caught the officer full in the chest. The impact sent him flying off the back of his horse, and with an audible cough he hit a patch of muddy ground slick with blood. Aran'alians descended upon him as his horse abandoned the charge and ran in another direction.

"Let him live!" I called out, though it was not entirely a declaration of mercy. "Your general will want to know what he knows!"

By then, the enemy was mostly routed. Some of them had taken to fleeing back across the same hills they'd nearly stampeded over earlier to escape the panicked horses. Arrows soon felled some of those fleeing survivors. With a roar, I sent my kin to start chasing down the rest, along with some of our own soldiers who were already in pursuit.

"Take them prisoner if you feel merciful!" I called out. "But let not one escape!"

I wanted the rest of the Illandran army to be left wondering. How had their troops fared? How far had they marched? Why no messages? How long would they be left waiting for communications? Could they...possibly have been slaughtered? Most of all, I did not want them to know our tactics. I did not want anyone to tell them of our traps, or the number of our dragons, or how we fought.

We were victorious in our first battle, and Illandra didn't even realize it.

Let them drown in the unknown.

---

Though we had been victorious in our first battle as a complete army, I had little time to revel in celebration. I had not so much as given a victorious roar to the skies when a man ran up to me, begging for my help. His armor was bloodied, but he seemed uninjured himself. Smudges of dirt marked with streaks of sweat coated his face, and he pleaded with me to help his friend. Apparently his friend was cut deeply, and if he was not attended to by a qualified healer or surgeon soon he was going to bleed to death. The man thought perhaps I could carry his friend to town swiftly enough to save his life.

I did have experience in such matters, after all.

I could hardly refuse the man his request. Though the army did have a few trained healers and surgeons with them, they had to remain well behind the battle save for a few brave souls willing to rush into the fray to try and tend the wounded. Needless to say Amaleen was not among them. Not because I would have forbade her, she wouldn't have listened anyway. But because she had duties to her town that outweighed the risk of putting her anywhere near a battle.

The soldier led me to his friend who had indeed lost a lot of blood. He looked quite pallid, and weakly clutched his friends hand as he knelt down. The man had a gaping wound to his belly. Though I was no healer, it was clear this man was not going to survive no matter who attended him. I turned my attention to the soldier who led me here, and it was clear that he knew his friend was not going to survive. Yet, he wished to give his friend hope in his last moments. It was a touching sentiment. Everyone should always have something to hope for. Without hope, we are nothing. Even in our darkest days, the simple notion of hope can keep us alive.

Hope can...keep us sane.

I would not abandon this man to an end without hope. I settled back onto my hind legs, scooped the dying man up in my paws, and after his friend said goodbye, I leapt into the skies. I fly him up above the battlefield, out over the green pastures, where the land was unsullied, calm and beautiful. As we flew, I felt his blood upon my paws. I told him several times that his land would be saved. That Aran'alia would always live free. He smiled at that. I told him he would be alright. That he would see his family and friends again soon. They would visit him while he recovered.

"Thank you, Dread Sky," he said in a hoarse whisper, his voice barely lifting above the wind that rushed over us while we flew. He weakly clutched my arm in a gesture of appreciation. "Thank you for everything."

Thank you for everything. There was that deceptively simple phrase once again. I said that to Amaleen once, and I wonder even now if she knew just how deeply I meant it. But I knew just what this man meant when he thanked me for everything. Thank you for protecting our land. Thank you for fighting for our freedom. Thank you for risking your own life for people you didn't have to care about.

Thank you for this gesture of hope.

Thank you for this flight.

The man knew he was dying as well as I did.

I hope that my gesture brought him some measure of comfort in his last moments.

When his last breathe escaped into the world, and his spirit fled to whatever realm might lay beyond, I flew back to the healers tents that had been set up far from the battlefield. They were guarded by a cadre of soldiers ready to protect the unarmed healers from any potential sneak attack. Already they were hard at work on the first groups of injured soldiers who limped away from the battle or were carried by comrades. I settled down in the grass, and lay the man's body gently in the sun. For a moment, I considered setting him alight as a dragon would burn a fallen friend. But I knew the Aran'alians had their own traditions to be respected.

"This one has already passed," I said, as one of the healers began to approach. "You will have time to tend to his burial later. You have much work to do, first."

I returned to the skies, and returned to the battlefield. By now, it was a muddy quagmire dotted with hundreds of corpses. It was a horrible sight, even to a dragon. Between the rains that had fallen recently, the fires that we'd set, the spilled blood, and the thousands of boots and hooves tearing up the earth, there was little left that even resembled grass. Even now the ground seemed to be seething as hundreds of men milled about. They were inspecting the dead, tending the wounded, dragging their comrades off, hauling prisoners away. The battlefield looked like an open wound; bloodied and wet, and cut to the blackened bone.

I circled once, and took a breath. I roared as loud, and long as I could. My roar rose and fell like the breath of the earth itself. The sound first deep and loud to celebrate our victory. Then I roared higher in pitch, a keening wail to mourn all those we had lost. The other four dragons soon joined in my terrible cry. They roared the same way I did, celebration and mourning mixed into one undulating whole. The men soon joined in as well, screaming and cheering and crying as one. We were an army now, joined in bloodshed and sacrifice and victory.

I swooped low over the ground, saw that there were many men who needed tending. Some of them would survive if swiftly given proper treatment. Others had little time left to live no matter what might be done for them. Men had lost limbs, or had their guts spilled upon the earth. Man limped upon shattered legs, crawled with broken knees, held tight to wounds still spurting blood. There were not enough healers here to tend them all, and no one to determine who needed the quickest treatment and who could safely wait a little longer.

I called the other dragons together, and gave them quick orders. We gathered up as many people as we could safely transport, those who still looked to have a chance of survival but were in immediate need of attention. Then we flew them to the healers tents as swiftly as we could. Once there I told the other four dragons to continue making such trips. I would go to town and get Amaleen and one of her apprentices. It was safe here now, and her town's duties could be damned for the day. Right now, there was no greater duty to Sigil Stones than to save as many of its soldiers as possible. We could only win this war of attrition if we ourselves did not run out of soldiers first.

Before I left, I was told by one of the healers that one of the men I'd brought was going to die, anyway. He was stabbed through the belly, and the blade had caught his liver deeply enough that they were not going to be able to stop the bleeding. I nodded in understanding, went to the man in question, and took him in my paws.

Unlike the last dying man, this one did not seem to know he wasn't going to see the sunset. He trembled as I took to the skies, pressing himself against my scales. I could feel him shaking with fear, and pain. I could not ease the pain, but I could ease his fear in his last moments.

"Don't worry," I said to him softly, filling my voice with false confidence. "You're going to make it!"

"Are you...sure?" the man moaned in pain. "It really...hurts..."

"Yes, I'm sure," I assured him, flying swiftly towards Sigil Stones. "The healer told me so! He said you would certainly live, but they need a qualified surgeon to fix you up properly. Don't worry! I'm taking you to Amaleen. She'll fix you right up, I promise..."

I hated breaking promises. But in this case, I felt justified. The man's shaking eased, though whether that was because his fear had faded, or simply because he was dying, I did not know. He murmured a thanks, and if I understood him correctly, he asked if the trip was a long one.

"No," I said. "It is not long now." That much at least, was true. "Close your eyes," I told him, fighting to keep my own voice even as I felt my throat tightening. "Think of the best moment, of your whole life. Fix it in your mind, and think of nothing else."

The man did not reply. I hoped he lingered long enough to do as I'd told him. I wanted him to feel hope in his last moments. I wanted him to feel comfort. For the first time I felt that no one should have to die alone, hurt, and afraid. Everyone should at least have some measure of comfort in their final moments. I was a little surprised by the way my heart hurt when I wondered how many of the men I'd killed had lingered long enough to know they were dying. Did they have hope in their last breath?

I knew what I would think of when I was dying someday. I would think of the birth of my son, the moment he hatched and I felt joy as I'd never imagined. And I would think of the day by the river, when Amaleen and I declared our love, and I felt that joy once again. In my last moments, I would picture the best parts of my life. Valaranyx, and Amaleen.

I landed in Sigil Stones, and lay the man's body down as people rushed to greet me. I had little strength in me at that moment, my body felt weak and my voice weaker. But I forced myself to find a way to speak, and speak loudly. I called out to the swiftly gathering crowd.

"This man has fallen for Aran'alia! Many men have fallen for Aran'alia. Many more will yet fall." I swept my wings out, and held my head up proudly, flaring out my spines. "I am honored to have fought alongside this man, honored to have fought alongside all the Aran'alian people! Today, we have lost friends, but we have achieved victory! The Illandran's first assault is routed!"

The crowd began to cheer, and I roared right back at them. "Aran'alia lives free!"

They cheered louder and louder, and soon began to repeat over and over what had become our rallying cry. It was not long before Amaleen made her way through the crowd towards me as I knew she would. I told her there was nothing to be done for this man aside from his burial, and to inform his family of his passing. But those were tasks for others. I told her what I needed her to do now, and she quickly fetched an appropriate apprentice. Together they brought as many supplies as they could carry, and Amaleen quickly climbed upon my back. The apprentices hesitated until Amaleen coaxed her to do the same. Just this once I'd let someone other than Amaleen ride me.

Swiftly as I could, I ferried them back to the scene of the battle. By now, more of the men had died, but many more could yet be saved. Horrific as such a scene may be, Amaleen bore it stoically. Her apprentice did not fare so well. Between the sight of so many horrific injuries and the pervasive stench of so much spilled blood, it seemed to take all the effort the apprentice could muster to keep from vomiting.

Amaleen threw herself into her task. Terrible as it was, she shouldered the responsibility of deciding which men could still be saved and which men were now beyond her help. I told her to put us to use however she could. Amaleen soon had all five dragons ferrying certain injured soldiers back to the tent of the healers or returning to Sigil Stones to replenish her supplies.

Amaleen worked all day. Sometimes, she put other surgeons to work upon injuries. Other times she took charge of their immediate treatment herself. Oftentimes she saved a life. Other times she found herself unable to save a man she thought for sure would make it. When she was not stitching someone up or trying to stave off someone's bleeding, or cauterizing some poor fool's severed limb, she was ordering everyone else around. Telling them which herbs to use for which injuries, how to stitch up certain wounds, how to apply a tourniquet in a safer fashion. And when it was clear a soldier could not be saved, Amaleen had someone come to him, to comfort him in his last moments. When I was free, I took some of the dying men into the skies to the see the world in a way they had never thought possible.

Night fell, and Amaleen and all the healers remained hard at work. By then many wounded men had died, and many more had been saved. But there were still those dying slowly who might not see the sunrise. Beyond that there were many more wounded men who had to be carefully tended to avoid having an infection set in that would claim their lives in the coming days or weeks.

By the time the sun began to rise once more, most of the wounded had either died, or been tended to. There were still a few in need of treatment. I had not slept all night, and neither had Amaleen. I did not think the other dragons slept either, though in truth I do not know. They spent the night helping however they could, eager to assist those who had shed blood for their homes. Even Kylaryn seemed quietly humbled by the time darkness had fallen.

In fact it was Kylaryn who came to my aid when I tried to draw Amaleen away. By the time the night sky began to lighten in the east, there were freshly rested healers who had arrived. While Amaleen wished to remain at work until every single wounded soldier had been tended to, I did not wish her to work herself to the point of exhaustion. She would be no good to anyone if she was the next to need a healer's touch.

"You have done all you can, My Love," I murmured to her. I gently put an foreleg around her waist and eased her away from the soldier laying on the blood-slicked grass. She had just finished bandaging him. "You need rest so that you can continue to treat them later."

"I am not done yet," Amaleen said softly, prying my paw away from her before she began to look for another soldier in need of tending. "I'll sleep when I'm done."

Kylaryn, who had just brought in bags filled with fresh supplies of gauze, herbs, salve and stitching equipment, walked towards us. She swiveled her ears a little as she heard us talking, and moved to stand in front of Amaleen.

"Valyrym is right," Kylaryn said softly.

"I don't care if he's right," Amaleen said, trying to push past the blue-scaled female.

Kylaryn moved again, pressing her muzzle against Amaleen's face. "Please, Amaleen," Kylaryn whispered to her, the pebbly blue scales of Kylaryn's face brushing Amaleen's cheek. "Go with your mate. I do not wish to see the woman who saved my son's life work herself to death. You are pallid. You are shaking." She pulled her head back just a little to press her nose to Amaleen's, staring into her blue eyes. "You have done all you can do. These men can be tended by the other healers. Go with Valyrym, and rest. Please."

Amaleen took a deep breath and set her jaw, prepared to argue. Then, after a moment, she heaved a great sigh and all the strength seemed to drain from her along with it. She nearly stumbled as her knees buckled, and Kylaryn and I both moved to catch her. She leaned against the two of us for a moment, and I glanced at Kylaryn. She gave me a little smile, and I returned it to her. I circled my foreleg around Amaleen once more, this time for support.

"Come now, Amaleen," I said, nudging her cheek with my nose. "Even Kylaryn says I am right. And I assure you, that does not happen often."

"No it does not," Kylaryn said in agreement. "Which should tell you something. Please, go with Valyrym."

Amaleen lifted a hand to wipe her brow. Sweat beaded upon it despite the chill of spring dawn. I had not the heart to tell her that she was only smearing more blood upon her face. "Very well." She looked down at her hands, staring at them as if only now realizing how much blood was upon them. "I...need to bathe." Then she looked up at me, pain shining in her blue eyes. "I don't want to go home right now. If I must rest..."

"You must," I said as firmly as I could without insulting her.

"...Then I'd rather do so somewhere more private. I...don't want to deal with questions or...anyone." She pressed her bloodied forehead against my neck a moment.

"We will go to my home, then," I said, looking up at Kylaryn. "You should rest, as well. We all should."

Kylaryn rumbled deep in her chest, but did not disagree. She flared her blue wings a little. "A suppose a few hours of sleep wouldn't hurt. I should like to see to Valar anyway."

"Make sure you wash the blood from your body and your armor before you see him."

Kylaryn snapped her teeth a little. "I should say the same to you."

I looked down at myself. I had scarcely realized just how bloodstained my own black scales had become. I'd gotten more than enough blood on myself during the battle, and added far more to it in the hours after. I stared at the blood stains a few moments, then slowly turned my gaze back up to Kylaryn.

I smiled at her a little bit. "You fought very well, Kylaryn."

"As did you," she replied, tossing her helmeted head. None of us had asked to have our armor taken off yet.

"I'm proud of you," I said gently. "These people, these humans..."

Kylaryn growled and glanced away. She did not want to hear it, but I was going to say it anyway.

"They are your friends now, Kylaryn. They have shed blood for this land just as you have, and they have shed it alongside you. For the rest of their days, these humans will see you as their friend." I watched her a moment, trying to read her. I knew well enough that Amaleen had changed something in Kylaryn, just as she'd changed something in me. Since the day many months ago when we first carved our names in stone, declaring ourselves their protectors, that change had slowly crept across Kylaryn's heart. I had not brought it to her attention, but now seemed as good a time as any. "They would have your friendship in turn, Kylaryn, if you would but offer it."

Kylaryn snorted and tossed her head, trekking off across the hill. "They would be so lucky."

Something in the way she spoke put a smile on my snout. She might never admit she had come to accept that friendship, but she didn't have to. She did not need to put words to it to make it true. This land was becoming more to her than a place to sleep. These people were becoming more than simply the humans who did not try and kill her. This land was becoming her home, and these people were coming her friends.

Still smiling, I lowered myself onto my belly, speaking to Amaleen. "Come along, my dear. We shall get you cleaned up and get you into bed."

Amaleen tried to tell a few of the other healers that she would be back soon, and to a man they insisted she get as much rest as possible. They swore to her they could handle it without her, and that she had already done far more than anyone could have expected. They also coaxed her into climbing onto my back before she could change her mind. They knew she needed the rest as much as any of us.

When she was settled, I took to the skies. A fiery orange sliver of the sun was just peeking above the eastern horizon, casting golden light across everything it touched. The gloomy purple hues of dawn were swiftly banished by the daylight as the morning broke clear and bright. I flew swiftly as my tired wings would carry me, and Amaleen clung to the back of my neck as an infant might cling to her mother. I was her comfort in this world just as she was mine.

I landed near a small lake that lay not far from my home. There was little breeze yet, and the water was calm and placid, faintly shining like a polished mirror as the sunlight glinted across its surface. Amaleen climbed down from my back and moved to the sandy shore. I followed her, wading into the cool waters. A little too cool for comfort, but not so cold as to prevent us from bathing. For a little while, Amaleen just stared at her reflection in the water.

Blood was everywhere on her. It matted her slightly curly hair, it clung to her purple dress and it was smeared across her delicate hands and slightly sharp features. I saw pain and tears both sitting just beyond the sapphire expanse of her eyes. The tears were yet to be shed and the pain was yet to be fully acknowledged. Amaleen had her first glimpse of real war today, and it had cut her as deeply as it had any of the men she had tended. All her life she'd been a healer, and yet never had she seen anything as terrible as the aftermath of such a large battle. And she knew as well as I that it was only our first battle. There were many yet to come, and we had no choice but to fight them if Aran'alia was truly to live free.

I eventually helped her get her clothing off. Granted my paws were hardly suited for the delicate of removing women's dresses and undergarments, but I was able to get her started. Gentle encouragement was all it took for her to slip out of her dress, and remove her under-things. She'd been coated with enough blood over the course of the day and night that some of it had soaked all the way through her clothing to her skin, leaving discolored, reddish brown smears across her chest and belly.

When she was naked, I gently guided her into the waters. They were cold, but she wouldn't have to be there long. She lifted her hands to me as if to begin washing the blood from my scales. I gently put my paw against her hand and pushed it back down to the water, shaking my head. Not this time. This time I would wash the blood from Amaleen.

Without a word, I gently bathed her. I tore a mostly clean bit of fabric from her dress, and after wetting it used it like a cleaning cloth. As gently as I could, I bathed her. Some of the blood came off easily. Some of it I had to work harder on. Now and then I rinsed her. Crimson rivulets ran down her body as the drier patches grew wet once more, and again and again I rinsed her off. Lovingly as I could, I scrubbed every droplet of blood from her body as she had so often done for me. If only I could scrub that same blood from her soul I would have gladly done so.

In the process I cleaned myself, as well. When the two of us were washed, and Amaleen's teeth chattered just a little, I guided her back out of the water and let her climb upon my back, nude. She wanted her dress, but I told her she could always come back for it later. I think she may have been a little bit in shock by then. The dress was ruined and we both knew it. The flight to my home was short. I had warm furs there for her to lay in, and plenty of old human clothes she could wear until we returned to town.

I flew as low as I could to keep her from getting any colder. She hugged her naked body to my warm scales the whole time. Once we reached my home, we went inside and headed straight for the bed. She lay down and I wrapped her gingerly in the warmest animal hide I had. It had come from some from of large arctic beast, very thick and very warm. Then I curled around her, wrapping her in my own warmth as well.

While we lay together, silent, Amaleen began to cry. I knew well enough it was coming, and were I to truly give into my own emotions I would have shed my tears alongside her. But that wasn't what Amaleen needed from me in that moment. Nor did she need any words. What she needed was strength and love and comfort, and a scaly body upon which to shed all her tears. There was nothing I could say that would change things or make her feel better. We both knew this terrible war was necessary, but that did not make it an easier burden to bear.

I let Amaleen cry to me until she'd cried herself to sleep, laying against my body. Only then did I lower my head to the furs, and silently weep my own tears till slumber overtook me as well.

---

Chapter Ten

For years we fought the armies of Illandra. The battle in the hills was our first victory, but it was hardly our last. Though we paid a great price and many men died that day, our success enabled us to better defend our lands. By wiping out their entire forward division, we were soon able to conquer the land they had used as their camp. That erased the foothold they held on deeper Aran'alia. And capturing that camp gave us a place to continue fortify as our own that would serve as a jumping off point for the rest of our defensive fortifications not just outside the major cities, but all across the land.

With the help of the five of us and an army now successfully forged in battle, we were able to create all manner of defensive positions. The people of Aran'alia began to build their own defensive walls, towers, and even small fortresses. And we put traps and hazards everywhere we could fit them, sowing the ground with the seeds of death for our enemies.

Our first victory swelled our ranks. Men and woman from all six cities and all the many villages scattered between them began to flock to Sigil Stones, our de facto capital. Those who once thought the war would never reach into deep Aran'alia and those who knew it would but thought we stood no chance had now seen the error of their ways. War was here, and surely it was a war we could win.

At least, for a time I believed we would win this war. Perhaps, had things turned out differently, I would have been right. Or perhaps it was just a dream I allowed myself to believe in because I felt so deeply that we had to have hope. Our men certainly hoped for victory. Our people hoped for victory. We all believed it was possible.

The first year of real war following that first battle was our most successful. Within a month of the annihilation of their forward division, Illandra began to send more scouting units out to try and find out what happened to them. Few, if any of them returned home alive. Sometimes we killed them all, other times we took them prisoner. We had soon gleaned quite a bit of information from the variety of prisoners we had. We were able to take what we learned from the commander I ordered captured, and corroborate that with the results of the interrogation of scouting units to set up ambushes all across Aran'alia.

Some of those ambushes lead to bloody, prolonged battles in which we often emerged victorious. We certainly did not win every engagement, but in that first year not once did they score a decisive victory against us. If we were forced to withdraw, we made sure that Illandra regretted it. Other ambushes worked out completely in our favor. They attempted to sneak an elite unit of crack troops deep inside Aran'alia, possibly on an infiltration mission to one of our cities. But we caught them as they trekked through a narrow pass where the other dragons and I had already set up an ambush. We never even had to engage them. We simply triggered a massive rock fall and turned that pass into their tomb.

Late summer brought with it larger scale battles again. They sent several divisions from the primary encampment to try and re-take our defensive positions. Each time we repulsed them. Several times they never even reached our walls and towers. Between a multitude of traps, dragon fire, and our own elite troops hiding all around, we cut them down before they ever reached us. Other times we were forced into large scale battle once more, but more often than not, our defenses held. Even when one of our positions was overrun, we were eventually able to take it back.

Our success was partly attributed to several factors I doubted the arrogant Illandrans had considered.

For one, while we could strike at their supply lines with near impunity, they had little way to do the same to us. They were often forced to heavily ration their troops supplies. After we'd burned down the bridges and ferries in Lavia, they did what they could to rebuild them. However, we countered that by doing our own ferrying. The five of us spent a good deal of time carrying elite troops into Lavia, where they could blend into the population and begin all manner of sabotage missions. A barracks mysteriously burned down. One of the under-construction bridges collapsed back into the river. Ferries loaded with supplies sank to the bottom, and so on. We sowed chaos every day without our army even leaving a single foot print.

On the other side of that coin, we had no such problems. As a dragon might say, that claw that cuts also protects. They had already done all they could to try and choke us off. They had closed the roads and cut our people off from trade. Yet it seemed they failed to realize that the people of Aran'alia had been making do on their own for generations. Yes, they did trade with other lands, but far more of their trade came from neighboring villages and cities than it did any foreign place. We had plenty of crops and livestock, and thanks to my generous donations which were soon matched by the other dragons, we had plenty of coin left to go around.

I think the Illandrans also underestimated the benefits of uneven warfare. Where they came at us with superior numbers and better training, we struck at them in the dark and with unseen weapons. Soon the entire army adopted our moniker. It was not just the dragons anymore. Now we were all Death In The Night. We killed them every chance we had, in every way we had. Often we killed them in ways they might not even realize we were responsible for.

We whittled down their numbers in all manner of ways. It was Death In The Night when we poisoned barrels of water and rum being sent from Lavia. It was Death In The Night when the five of us rained fire upon them while they slept. We built a dam upstream from one of their larger camps in the spring, and in the fall we tore that dam down and Death In The Night came in a flood. And when they did march far enough to attack us once again, they found the fields, forests and hills that surrounded our positions filled with more traps than they could count. There may have been ten of them for every one of us, but the odds were even when we lost one man for every ten we slew in the night.

Death In The Night evened the odds.

Now they had more to fear from this land than monsters. Yet we made sure those monsters remained front and center in their nightmares. As it was inevitable that they eventually knew us as five individuals, we ensured that when we showed ourselves they would wish we'd stayed in the darkness. One morning we came with the dawn, just as the camp was rising. In our paws we carried our explosive barrels, on our bodies we wore our armor and our banners, and on our backs we bore the best archers we had to offer.

Yes. We bore archers. Archers with iron stomachs who did not mind being strapped to a dragon who swooped and dove, leapt and pounced, whirled and spun through combat. Each archer wore armor of their own, and as many arrows as they could carry. We each hurled our barrels into prime targets, be they food and supply warehouses, or command tents, or barracks filled with soldiers. When the camp was burning we rampaged through it, slaying as many men as possible, the more gruesomely the better. And with the archers on our backs it was rare anyone could get close enough to strike at us. In addition to stomachs of hardened stone, the elite bowmen could fire two well-aimed arrows before the average archer could even got his first shot off. On a good day, they felled almost as many men as we did.

Almost.

Back in an increasingly fortified Sigil Stones celebrations were common. The entire town held a party at the beginning of every month to celebrate another four weeks of freedom. We all knew this could come crashing down around us at any moment, and everyone was keen to live their lives to the fullest extent. In a strange way, those celebrations were some of the happiest times of my life. It was as if I knew that the clock was ticking on my freedom and I wanted to relish every moment.

Of course the dragons were invited to the city wide celebrations. We were greatly responsible for their continuing freedom, and they had come to cherish us not just as protectors but as friends. Though the war weighed heavily on my mind even when I was at home, seeing how the town treated us made me happier than I could imagine. The people of Sigil Stones were likely the only group of humans to ever truly care about me. To care about us. I already thought that perhaps if we won this war, we would be welcomed here for the rest of time. Yet it happened sooner than I thought possible. The war was not yet over, and we were already their friends.

They gathered us all in the plaza one day. Colorful signs strewn about proclaimed the five of us as permanent citizens of Sigil Stones. We were told, in no uncertain terms, that as long as Aran'alia existed dragons would be welcome there. It was something I had dreamed about for quite a while. A place for dragons to call their home. Not some clan hidden away, not some cavern in the mountains where humans could not find them. But an entire land, a country in which the humans not only welcomed dragons, but wanted to share their land with them. To share their home with dragons.

Immense portraits of the five of us were painted upon tall banners. And with our permission, they inscribed our names across the top of those banners. They hung them in the plaza where all could see, so that everyone in the entire town would know us by our name. So that everyone in the entire town who saw us landing in the streets, or roaming the market could call out to us, and greet us by name as a friend.

Not one of us felt insulted or angry to have our true names shown to the entire town. Instead, each and every one of us felt pride. Felt honor. So very proud that despite the odds the world laid against us we had made some small section of humanity our friend. Even Kylaryn was moved. Aside from Amaleen, and the stone we'd all carved our sigils in, Kylaryn had not given anyone else in town her real name. Not until they asked if they could put it on that banner.

Now that it was unfurled for everyone to see, she couldn't stop staring at it. She had perhaps the most beautiful banner of all of us. Her blue scales shone like glittering sapphires, and her eyes like polished silver coins. In the image, she held her horned head up with her wings outstretched. Her name was painted in elegant script in an arch above her head.

"What do you think?" I asked her, quiet so that no one else could hear.

Kylaryn slowly turned her head, her silver eyes wet and shining. She peered into my own eyes for a while, and then hung her head as if ashamed of the creature she had been. I knew that feeling all too well. She took a deep breath, licked her nose, and let out a long sigh. Finally, she smiled a little, and lifted her head to whisper into my ear.

"...I think I'm home."

Those simple words touched me more than anything I had ever heard her say.

I only smiled at her. I understood completely.

I licked Kylaryn's neck a few times, and then as I turned my attention back towards the banners I pulled Amaleen close to me. My banner was in the center. I found that I looked rather smug in my interpretation. Somehow I imagined Amaleen had a little something to do with that. It was alright, I was a smug beast and I knew it. On either side were the banners of Kylaryn and Korvarak. Next to Korvarak was Narymiryn, and next to Kylaryn was Voskalar. They even had a smaller banner upon which Valaranyx was painted, and his own name inscribed. I had long ago told the town his name. Every person in this town deserved to know all our names, even my son's.

Valar was standing between Kylaryn and I when they unveiled all the banners. After we'd all stared up at them a while, Valar trotted forward. He looked at each banner, sniffed at them, and then smiled. He pointed to his own banner.

"That's me!" Valar chirped. We laughed, and so did the rest of the townspeople who were gathered. I did not bother to stop what I knew was coming next. It took him only a moment longer to wave his paw at the rest of the banners and declare, "Those are mine!"

That only brought greater laughter from all of us. By then Valar was as much a friend of the town as the rest of us. Perhaps he was even more a friend to them than we were. As his wounds had healed and his scars faded a little, so too did his fear of the armored guards. Especially as some of them posted near Amaleen's house began to carry treats around with them specifically for the little dragon. Now that he could run and play freely once more, it was much harder to keep him from bounding off on his own throughout the town.

Soon we had to put a lock on the door to my home in Amaleen's backyard. Not to keep people out, but to keep Valar in. He discovered how to open the door, and had little trouble jumping up to grab the dragon-sized latch in his paws. Many times I awoke in the morning only find Valar gone. Inevitably someone from town would gather him up and bring him back. Sometimes he allowed himself to be carried, other times he had to be coaxed with treats and promises of play.

When we were off at war, Amaleen kept Valar inside her house. He had not yet figured out how to open the various locks of her doors, so at least he couldn't run off at night. He could, however, play exuberantly and climb upon every possible surface. He soon discovered Amaleen couldn't reach him if he made his way to the very top of her book case. He also soon discovered his father got quite angry when he learned his son was accidentally breaking everything fragile inside Amaleen's home.

As the seasons rolled on, we occasionally tried to test Valar's wing. It would be some time yet before his wings had developed enough to allow him to fly, but we hoped if we could get him to start stretching it and working it early in life, perhaps he would have a better chance of overcoming his disabling injury.

I wish I could say that the prospects were brighter. The wing on the injured side of his body never sat quite right against him. It was easy to see for a dragon. While one wing naturally folded up tight against him, the other came to rest at a slightly extended, awkward position. The tendon that had been cut seemed to be responsible for some of the wing's movements, and without it he couldn't quite pull it all the way against his body anymore. When we tried to straighten it as if for flight, it soon caused him enough pain to make him whimper and pull away.

"Cut it out," he'd yelp and yowl, then glare at me in his angry hatchling way. "I'mma yank your wing all funny!"

I lacked the heart to tell him that it wouldn't hurt me even if he did. For the time, I simply told him we were helping exercise his wing, and that painful as it might be, stretching it would help it finish healing so he could fly well later in life. Valar didn't quite understand. He simply bounced around, excited at the prospect of one day joining his mother and father in flight. Neither of us could tell him.

For my part, I clung to the hope that he might yet fly in his own way even if not as elegantly as his mother. It would not be so bad if he were a clumsy flyer. As long as he got to see the world fall away beneath the power of his own wings, I was sure he would be satisfied. He could hunt well enough from the ground. It was not the elegance of flight that made it so special to a dragon, but simply the act itself.

If I was a dragon who believed more stoutly in the Gods, I would have prayed to them every day that they not rob even that small joy from my son. Then again, had I believed deeply in them, I might also wonder if poor Valar's life was some twisted joke to them. They'd allowed me to reach Amaleen in time and they had guided her hands to save him. Yet would they now sit back to watch him flail about the land with broken wings? The lifetime of a dragon was a long time to watch his kin dance in the skies while never knowing the joy of leaving the earth himself.

As the seasons ground onward, and the first year of our war lead to another, and another beyond it, I tried not to spend too much time thinking of Valar's injury. I had far too many other things to worry about as the war went on. After a year filled with successes, our momentum began to slacken. Though the Illandrans had no particularly great victories against us, I worried our plans were becoming a liability. We had hoped to bleed them dry in every way possible. To slay them with traps and sword and bow and fire and poison and starvation and to freeze them out in the winters. Sooner or later I'd assumed they would run out of morale and men.

Yet neither seemed to dwindle for long. What I as a dragon failed to realize was the scope of the army against which we fought. Month by month, new men marched across the lands to join their comrades. For every man we killed there was another to take his place, and sometimes there were two. Though Illandra was a small land compared to Aran'alia, it bore upon its back a far greater population. And beyond that, Illandra had an immense pool of men and soldiers outside their own borders to draw from. In lands they had previously conquered, they added the local armies to their own. In lands which they intimidated, the local rulers were forced to send their own military into an alliance under Illandra's banner.

The Illandrans had vast forces to command, and seemingly little respect or concern for the lives of their men. No matter how many of them we killed they simply threw more at us. Death In The Night took many of them over the years but there were always fresh recruits sent in. To them, Death In The Night was only an ugly rumor. We did what we could to put truth to those rumors but our inventiveness had its limits.

Our numbers also had their limits. Though we had marshaled what seemed like a great army by the standards of deep Aran'alia, our numbers were far more finite than those of Illandra. We had no grand pool of reserves to draw upon from other lands. The other cities in the realm had already given their sons and daughters to our army.

In the second summer, Illandra did what they could to adapt their tactics to meet our own. Aran'alians either captured in battle or taken from conquered towns were forced to take the first swallows of water and rum, the first bites of food. When their armies marched, they did so at a glacial pace with experienced trackers out front to spot and disarm traps. When they reached one of our fortresses, they held back, intent on waiting us out while our supplies dwindled rather than launching an attack before they were prepared. They kept well disciplined teams of archers waiting at all times to return fire on any hail of arrows, or to pick off the archers riding on dragon-back. They began to set up their own ambushes. Supply lines with covered wagons filled not with food, but with elite soldiers and archers.

And yet they could only get so far. Even with our losses, we were able to hold our lines well enough. Stopping to disarm traps left them wide open to attack, and the slow pace of their march allowed us to increase our own fortifications long before they arrived. It also allowed the five of us to inflict a great deal of damage on them at any time of our choosing. We continued to strike them with as little pattern to our attacks as possible. We hit their front lines, we burned their barracks in Lavia, we rampaged through their command tents in their camps, whatever we could do to impede their progress and make them fear us.

They tried to find new ways to battle dragons, as well. They tried arrows with a variety of poisons, for example. They also had their archers fire hails of arrows into the skies any time we were spotted. Yet between our natural armor, and that which was strapped to our bodies, few of the arrows stuck in us. And when they did, even the poisons bore no fatal effects thanks to our natural resistance to most toxins and Amaleen's tireless efforts to built our immunities to the rest. When that tactic failed to fell us, they brought in a different sort of troops.

They brought in dragon slayers. With them came specialized equipment designed to kill dragons. They brought barbed lances designed not just to pierce deep into a dragon's body, but to tear his entrails apart as the lance was removed. They bore heavy crossbows with extra penetrating power to punch through our hides. The men themselves bore armor crafted from the bodies of our fallen kin, worked heavily with a variety of oils to make it more resistance to fire. And they came with a great deal of experience killing dragons. They knew our weak points, and they knew how to make us die.

In the end, it mattered little. Unlike most dragons, the five of us now had great amounts of experience fighting humans ourselves. We were not so foolish as to charge into battle with men baring dragon-slaying lances or present our bellies for a crossbow. And just as importantly, none of these murdering monsters had ever faced a dragon bearing armor of his own, let alone five such dragons. The dragonslayers gave each of us fresh scars, yes. Yet they failed to do what they'd done to so many of our kind. They were unable to slay the dragons that guarded Aran'alia.

They could not kill Death In The Night. We, however, took great pleasure in the deaths of the dragonslayers.

As the second summer bore on into the next winter, our legend grew. We once more bore the bulk of the war upon our wings as heavy snows blanketed the land. The winter gave our army time to rest and heal, and gave our officers time to train new recruits. As more men and women across Aran'alia came of age they too joined our army. It was not the constant sort of replenishment that the Illandrans received, but it swelled our ranks a little bit nonetheless.

That winter we had a few great successes in destroying the newest weapons used against us. Though the dragon slayers had failed to live up to their name, they had brought with them plans for heavier weapons for use against dragons. I learned they were called Ballista. Like a crossbow the size of a catapult, they flung enormous spears into the sky. They were a clumsy but potentially devastating weapon. They were difficult to aim well and slow to reload, but should they score a hit upon a dragon the results could easily be crippling if not fatal.

Over the months we had learned how best to counter such weapons. When the winter storms came, we used the snow to cover our movements, hiding in the clouds and then diving to unleash fire upon the contraptions. Deadly as the things could be, they were still made mostly of wood, and they burned like everything else. Whenever we found such weapons we eliminated them as soon as possible, added them to our list of primary targets in any particular camp or fortification we were attacking.

One day we flew to one of the larger camps we had not hit for a while. A blizzard had clung stubbornly to the land for several days. It seemed the perfect opportunity to wreak havoc and burn the Illandran's barracks and stores of food. We knew their camp held at least a few ballista. Yet with the heavy snows whirling around us we could not see exactly where they were positioned or aimed until we were nearly atop them. When they first saw our silhouettes through the snow, they fired a few massive bolts at us. The weapons made an unmistakable sound. The whump of the oversized cord snapping taut betrayed the weapon's firing. The snows kept the bolts hidden but the whistling whine of the bladed tip slicing through the air itself told us their aim was off. Still, the noise always made my breath catch in my throat.

We should have turned back then, and there. But perhaps success had too greatly emboldened us. Their volley had missed, and so we felt safe to attack. We dove upon them, targeting their command structures and barracks and storehouses. Little did we know, that each important target had its own ballista pre-aimed to the space just above the structure it guarded. Those ballista that had already fired were placed randomly around the camp, with the intent to convince us that they could not fire again without reloading. This time, we were the ones baited into an ambush.

By the time we had drawn close enough to the ground for the snowy veil to part and allow us to glimpse the trap they had set we were nearly in their sights. I was about to swoop low over the small fortified structure they had built to house their field command for this camp, and had I done so I likely would have taken a bolt straight through my body. I saw it just in time, and frantically dipped a wing to peel away from my strafing dive in the last moments.

"Evade!" I screeched, beating my wings sharply to try and ascend back out of view into the raging snowstorm. "Do not dive on your targets!"

For most of us, the warning came in time. Dragons frantically spun in the air, ascending and wheeling around to stay out of the line of fire. Several bolts were loosed, missing us by scant feet and inches. Yet for one dragon my warning came too late. An inhuman scream rang out above the camp, ragged with agony and twisting with fear. The scream lasted for a moment, and ended with the terrifying, splinting sound of armored flesh crashing into wood. They'd shot one of us right out of the sky.

I did not know who it was at first. Immediately I whirled around towards the source of the scream, begging Gods I scarcely believed in to spare the life of whoever had been hit. Strange that I only seemed to call to them when something terrible happened.

I called out to the others as I raced through the snows, ignoring arrows that pinged off my armor here and there. "Help me find them!"

Ahead of me, I heard another scream of pain, followed by the sound of more wood cracking and splintering. Whoever was hit, they were still alive. But the screams they made were too rough with agony for me to recognize the voice. It did not matter. Whoever it was, I was not about to leave them here to die. Even if the bolt had slain them instantly, I would not leave their body here to desecrated and butchered like some animal raised for leather.

A few more wing beats, and a shattered building loomed in front of me in the snow like some ghostly ruin. Only one of the four walls still stood, the rest were reduced to crumpled wreckage. Here and there jagged wooden beams stretched from the ruin like skeletal fingers. Other broken beams spanned the cratered roof like bars designed to keep its new prisoner locked inside. I knew what building it was. It was one of several food storehouses that Korvarak had gone to attack.

It was Korvarak who they shot from the sky.

Men were already starting to swarm the wreckage. I landed in their midst, tossing them in every direction I could. Blood splattered the white snow that coated the street and the other buildings. The bolt must have struck Korvarak as he dove above one storehouse, and he crashed into the adjacent building. I hurled one man through the wall of another building, and with my tail I embedded my spines through helmet and breastplate as I sought out my friend.

Korvarak lay in the center of the ruined building, sprawled against crushed sacks of flour and grain, beams of broken wood scattered around him. A few more of them slid down his body as he struggled to rise. His green scales were covered in blood, but I saw no sign of the bolt itself. One of his wings hung from his body, the joint likely shattered and the flesh opened to the broken bone. Beneath his ruined wing, his left side was opened to the ribs, twisted metal remained where the bolt had shorn through his armor. It looked as though the bolt had hit him in the ribs, punched upwards along his rib cage and then impacted his wing joint almost directly before continuing on beyond him. I did not know if he would fly again or not, but at least for the moment he still drew breath.

Yet even that seemed difficult. The impact had broken at least a few of his ribs, I was sure. He wheezed weakly, and cried out in pain again, struggling to rise. His own pale amber eyes looked glassy, and unfocused. I called his name and he barely even seemed to register my voice. He got to his feet, only to stumble and crash into one of the broken walls. The impact made him scream again.

His screams hurt my heart.

"Over here!" I called to the others. "It's Korvarak! We have to get him out of here, now!"

As painful as it was for me to see my dear friend injured so grievously, I can only imagine how it must have felt for my sister. I heard her scream as she circled above, her voice filled with almost as much pain as Korvarak's. Orange light erupted behind me as Nary dove on the gathering humans, unleashing fire against them. Kylaryn and Voskalar landed nearby, and soon Korvarak's bloodied form was bathed in fiery light as they sought to clear out the crowd.

"Take down the walls! Make room!"

Together, we tore what was left of that place apart as swiftly as we could. Arrows were flung through the air towards us, and I feared they would reload the ballista and attempt to take aim at us while we were on the ground. Still, there was little we could do, though Nary was quick to incinerate the ballista that struck down Korvarak. its operators fared little better. When we had shorn the broken building down to its very foundation, we moved in around Korvarak.

"I am sorry, my friend," I whispered to him, though I wasn't sure he could hear me. "I am so sorry. You'll be alright. We'll get you help, I promise, I promise! Amaleen will make you right!"

My words were as much to comfort myself as they were for Korvarak. It was not an easy thing to carry an adult dragon, let alone an adult dragon writhing in agony. I was terrified we were going to do even more damage to his wing and his body, yet we had no choice. We could not leave him here and we had no gentle way to move him. It would not be easy to fly him. Nary took a front limb, I took a hind limb, and Kylaryn took his tail. It was the only way thought we'd be able to support and fly him together without blocking each other's wings. Voskalar would have to swap in with one of us if we grew too tired.

Korvarak screamed even louder when we hoisted him aloft, his wing hanging limply along his side. Blood ran down his green scales in crimson rivers, splattering the white snows with steaming red blotches. Arrows were fired at us again, some of them punched little holes through our wings, a few of them stuck flesh. Another ballista bolt narrowly missed Kylaryn, yet she managed to keep her hold on Korvarak. We ascended as swiftly as we could. It was a difficult, awkward way to fly, we were battered by each other's wings constantly. We had to work to alter our wing beats so that we didn't interfere with each other's flight too badly. Even then we shook and bobbled in the sky, and now and then we even lost lift for a few moments.

Still, it was nothing compared to what Korvarak endured. I wished the poor bastard would have just passed out. It must have been some sort of stubborn dragon pride. As if we felt we were too strong to ever pass out from injury and pain. Just as poor Valar had remained awake while I carried him to Amaleen, Korvarak did the same on the way to the nearest healer. At least, he remained in some manner of consciousness. He babbled incoherently between cries of pain.

Nary was little better. I think she was nearly in shock herself. She spoke to Korvarak the whole way, telling him to stay with us. Called him Korvy. Telling him he would be just fine. Telling him she loved him through her tears. The rest of us spoke to him now and then, too. I did what I could to keep it together. We knew this might happen eventually, but that did not make it any easier to bare.

We stopped first at the nearest friendly camp with a healer in it. I knew that Korvarak would require far more intensive care, but if we did not get him tended quickly enough he might bleed out before we reached Sigil Stones. The healer at the Aran'alian camp was able to stabilize his wing somewhat. More importantly, thanks to herbal salves and a bit of ghost stone dust and heavy bandages they were able to quell the worst of the bleeding. Yet concern remained etched all across the healer's face.

When Korvarak's condition was a bit more stable, we returned our injured friend to the skies. We flew all day, and into the night, and when we finally got him to Amaleen, she called for all her apprentices. We put Korvarak in my home behind Amaleen's house to keep him and the healers out of the snow. Amaleen and the others worked frantically on him for several hours. Though we wanted to stay by his side, we would only be in the way.

Nary paced back and forth in the snow, whimpering and muttering to herself. I went to her, and gently pulled her against my scales. I held Nary for a while as she cried. For now, I held back my own tears for my friend. The other two soon joined us and we took comfort in each other's warmth.

People gathered outside Amaleen's home to hear of Korvarak's fate. They were all well wishers but we kept them out of her garden. When Amaleen had done all she could on her own, she came and hugged me. She wasn't crying, but I knew she would be later. For now she was too wrapped in her tasks to allow herself that release. When she had the attention of all the dragons, she quickly explained the extent of Korvarak's injuries.

The muscles along his wing joint were shredded, and those connected to it along his ribs were torn away. The bone of his wing joint itself was shattered in several places. His wing would never work the same again, even if it healed. At least three of his ribs were broken which made breathing difficult for him. He'd lost a lot of blood, but was clinging stubbornly to life.

"Seems to be the way of you dragons," Amaleen added with a little smile.

After a few moments of silence, Amaleen glanced back towards Korvarak and sighed. "I cannot heal him alone, Valyrym," she said, rubbing my nose. "I will do all I can but I need you to go and fetch Asgir. Tell him to bring everything he has. Right away, Valyrym."

I nodded. "Of course, Amaleen."

I took to my wings immediately, and made for the Bones Of The Earth. As I flew, I could not help but think of my fallen friend. I told myself he was going to live. Amaleen would have told me if she felt he'd not survive. Yet I doubted Korvarak would ever fly again. Even if by some miracle he did, it would not be without pain. Even then he'd have to teach himself to fly all over again, using entirely new wing motions. In truth, I knew that was not going to happen. But Korvarak would need something to hope for when he roamed the conscious world once more. There must always be hope, even when it seems as though there is none.

But for Korvarak, the war was over.

---

I reached the Bones of The Earth sometime around dawn. The whole area was shrouded with snow. All the carvings and monuments that rose from the white ground looked like ancient beasts frozen in the cold. Here and there trails ran through the snow that Asgir had cut for himself. Gray smoke rose from his chimney, at least he hadn't yet frozen to death. Yet. I suppose he could have always wrapped himself in his beard to keep the chill away.

I landed in the cold snow in front of his home made of carved logs, and bellowed for him. "Asgir! Asgir, it is Valyrym! We need your help right away!"

I imagine my bellowing must have awoken the old man, but at least he didn't come charging at me with his sword this time. A light came on inside his home as he lit a lantern, and it bobbled from window to window. As I waited for him, I saw that the oaken wood of his front door was carved with the Sigils for Freedom and Love. Intriguing, I thought. The door finally opened and the old man stepped out, wrapped in a black cloak lined with thick gray fur. Much to my dismay, his beard seemed longer than ever.

Luckily for him I had no time for jests and insults. I quickly explained the situation. He retreated into his home to pack his things as swiftly as possible. Several times he returned to me to tie bags and pouches around my limbs. I was almost as loathe to act as his pack mule as I was to let him and his damn beard on my back. However, I knew whatever he was bringing was of great importance. I was far too worried about Korvarak to complain about such trivial matters.

When Asgir had finished loading me up with packs of herbs and ghost stones to replenish Amaleen's stocks, he fetched his oversized sword and climbed up upon my back. Without another word I returned to the sky, and ferried him back towards Sigil Stones. Along the way he asked me questions about Korvarak's injuries and the extent of his wounds. He also asked me questions about my own anatomy and wing structure, as well as tolerances for various herbs and other things. By the time we landed in Sigil Stone Asgir was almost as well versed in draconic anatomy as Amaleen.

For the next several days, Asgir, Amaleen, and all her apprentices worked ceaselessly upon Korvarak. Asgir took charge of the entire effort and Amaleen deferred to him in all matters. I had to admit, his knowledge was very impressive. Asgir very carefully studied my own wing structure for a while. He watched me stretch it, he felt the structure of my wing and its bones, he even made little sketches to make sure he had everything sorted out. Then he assisted Amaleen in setting Korvarak's shattered wing with exacting precision.

He also studied my wing and body in detail, following the lines of muscles and veins with his fingers. He pointed things out to Amaleen here and there, referencing obscure anatomical terminology I could in no way repeat. Asgir took every care to ensure that by the time they had finished binding, splinting, and stitching Korvarak back together best they could, they would have given him the best possible chance to heal properly.

Korvarak was unconscious almost the entire time. They allowed him to rouse just long enough to give him some water to ensure he'd not grow dehydrated, and then they put him back to sleep for hours at a time. They used some of the same herbs that Amaleen once used on Valar to make sure he slept through her work. She also had Nary breathe some of the vapors in now and then to help her relax. I had them offer some to Voskalar as well. He was almost as shaken up at Nary was.

When at last they had done everything they could, they allowed us to spend some time with him. He looked even worse than Valar once had. His scales had lost their vibrant forest green luster, they held a sickly tone that reminded me of bile. Half his body was obscured with a mess of bandages and oversized splints holding his wing together. Though he was still unconscious, we each stroked his neck and spoke softly to him. Nary curled around him and slept for a few hours. Later, Voskalar did the same.

Korvarak spent most of the next few weeks only half conscious. Asgir remained in town during that time to help Amaleen deal with any complications that arose. Amaleen kept Korvarak well supplied with herbs that dulled his pain and his mind alike. It was for the best. He likely hadn't realized the extent of his own injuries and it was not going to be easy on him when he did. How could a dragon come to terms with losing his greatest gift? In some ways it would be even harder on Korvarak than it would on my son. If Valar never flew, he would yearn for what he never got to experience. But for Korvarak, he would know just what it was he had lost. I feared his memories would haunt him.

I could not help but wonder if Korvarak would ever get to see his own home again. The cavern in which he lived was a good week's flight from Sigil Stones. Surely it was possible to walk there, but the circuitous route the humans had to take to go around the higher peaks and steeper valleys would take ages to traverse on foot. And even when he did reach his home terrain, he might need other dragons to help him ascend to the cavern itself. And the people of his home village were quite fond of Korvarak. They would miss him if he never returned. I thought perhaps when the war was over, and Korvarak was healed, we could all travel with him to that village. After all they'd already welcomed him in their village in the years before the war. Likely they would go out of their way to give him a place to live if he needed it.

Yet that seemed an exceedingly long ways off. And there was no guarantee we would win the war. It would be harder now than it had been before. We were down a dragon after all, and that marked a precipitous drop in our destructive abilities. Whenever Kylaryn or I had remained behind in previous missions, we had to adapt our tactics accordingly. Now, if one of us stayed with Valar while the others went to war we would be down to only three dragons.

None of that was as important as Korvarak's well being, though. He was going to have a lot challenges ahead of him, and not only the physical sort. In a twisted way, the first month or so while the pain was at its worst was probably the easiest on him. After all, Amaleen kept him on more than enough herbs for him to barely remember his own name, let alone how badly hurt he was. It was for the best. Amaleen and Asgir had to clean his wounds every day, and vast as they were, that was a process best done while Korvarak was not truly awake enough to remember it.

Nary never left Korvarak's side. As soon as the apprentices were out of the way, Nary moved into my home to stay with her mate. When they cleaned Korvarak's wounds, Nary held his head while he murmured in pained incoherence. She licked his nose and his ears, she nuzzled him and cooed to him. Their love was stronger than I had realized. It reminded me of Amaleen and myself. I shuddered to think how I would react if it was Amaleen who lay maimed. I knew well enough I would be with her every moment of every day, and help her any way she needed it. And when she was well enough to care for herself, I would seek out her attackers and slay them to a man. Nary was not yet ready to think about revenge. For now, all she cared about was Korvarak.

Valar and I moved into the spaces down the street that Korvarak and Narymiryn occupied. We swapped our possessions for theirs so that it would feel more like home for them while Korvarak healed. Some nights Valar slept curled with me, other nights he slept with his mother. Many nights I lay awake thinking about Korvarak. For a time, I wondered if I had made the right decision to join in this war. Would it have been better if I'd simply swept Amaleen away, taken her somewhere safe with the rest of the dragons? Each time, I ended thinking of the banners in the plaza. I could not abandon these people if there was a chance to protect them.

Within a month, the snows began to melt. Soon we had to return to war. Aran'alia's army needed our assistance. With Nary at Korvarak's side that left just Voskalar, Kylaryn and myself to fly to battle. Valar screamed and wailed and clung to Kylaryn and I far worse than usual. We each did what we to comfort him. We hugged him and nuzzled him, told him we'd be back soon. At first neither of us knew why he was making so much more of a fuss than usual. Yet each time we set him down he bound right back over and clung to whatever part of us he could get his paws around.

Finally, I asked him, "Valar, what is the matter? You're used to us leaving for a little while now, aren't you?"

Valar, crying, shook his head. "Don't go fight! You'll come back hurt like Uncle Korvarak!"

Oh. Valar had finally figured it out. We tried to keep it from him, but he'd always been a clever hatchling. The older he got, the smarter he became. He'd finally put it together that all the injured men Amaleen had to care for lately were fighting the same battles we were. We tried to protect him from the truth, but when Korvarak came back wounded it was all to obvious to him what we were really doing.

What was I to say to that Valar? "We have to, My Love."

"Why?!" Was all Valar could wail as he clung to my front leg.

"Because no one else will protect them." The answer came not from me, but from Kylaryn. It was the same answer I would have given, but hearing her say it about the humans sent shivers down my spine. She gestured towards Korvarak's half conscious form, laying upon a spread of blankets in the sun while Nary stroked his neck. "Because the people who hurt him are the same people who hurt you." Kylaryn gently touched one of Valar's scars. "And if we do not stop them, they will do the same to the people of this city. They will do the same to Amaleen."

Valar stared up at her with wide eyes, struggling to comprehend. I reached down, and gently picked him up in my paws, continuing her line of thought. "Because, Valar. We have come to realize there are things in this world worth risking your own life for. If you truly care about something, about someone, then you are willing to risk your own life to protect what is precious to you. Because this land is our home. This land is your home, and these people in this town? They are your friends." I glanced over at Kylaryn, repeating her own thoughts. "There is no one else left to protect them. And so we bare our fangs in their defense."

Valar sniffed, and licked at my nose when I hugged him to my face. I licked him back, and gently set him down. I wasn't sure if he truly understood, but he stopped begging us to stay. Nary walked over and gently scooped him up in a paw. She licked our necks, and told us to come home safely. We would do all we could, but Korvarak had proven that was not an unbreakable promise.

"Did you kill the ones who hurt me?" Valar's soft question took me by surprise. Poor little child kept putting together puzzle pieces I hadn't realized we'd given him.

But I would not lie to my son. "Yes Valar, I did."

"But...there's more?" He squirmed a little in Nary's grasp, peering over at Korvarak.

I sighed, my frills drooping. "Yes." More than I could count.

"Then...I hope you kill all of them." Valar sniffled, nuzzling against Nary's chest plates.

I winced, and stared at my own front paws for a moment. What father would not hope to see his son cling to his innocence as long as possible? But the attack that nearly took his life had cut his soul deeper than I'd realized, and Korvarak's injury had reopened that wound. Day by day, Valar's innocence was slowly bleeding from him, as war and cruelty cut into childhood.

"You shouldn't think that way, Valar," Amaleen said from nearby. "Vengeance never truly solves anything."

"Tell him..." I hesitated a moment. There were many things I could have taught Valar in that moment. Many things a dragon would naturally teach another dragon. And yet, I could not help but feel as though perhaps that was not right for Valar. Amaleen's way was better. "Tell him why you care about everyone, Amaleen."

Deciding that was as good a time as any to take to the skies, I bid farewell to the others and ascended alongside Kylaryn and Voskalar. I left Amaleen to try and explain things to Valar if she wished. I hoped she would do as I asked. She was a kind soul who shed tears every time men died in her arms. A healer by trade and spirit alike, she tended even wounded enemies as though they were her dearest friends. She would tell Valar that life was valuable and that even their enemies had worth. I was sure she would tell him that they only fought because the war was forced upon them. That blood should only be shed in defense, never for malice. Not even for revenge. She would never judge me for my vengeance yet I felt certain were she in my place she would not seek out the same. In many ways, she was a better creature than I.

As we flew, I thought about what I would have told Valar, if I had remained behind in that moment. I would have talked of ancient dragon traditions. Of the principals we followed that had dictated our lives since olden times. Yet, where had those principals lead us? To a scattered race, sheltering in caves, hunted as monsters by half the world. I would have taught Valar the principal of Blood for Blood.

Blood for Blood. I would never want Valar to know it became my guide through the worst moments of my life. I would have wanted Valar to be better than me.

---

Chapter Eleven

As a trio of warriors, we did all the damage we could. We altered our tactics after Korvarak's injury. We turned our focus more and more to front line camps and brigades so that we wouldn't have to be away from home for long. We surveyed them from high above in the middle of the night, then swept in low and destroyed their ballista and any other heavy weaponry before they could turn it against us. We burned down their barracks with men still inside them. We made hit and fly attacks, destroying their stores of food before vanishing back into the darkness. Death in the Night still came for them, but it appeared and vanished again in far swifter a fashion. We did all the damage we could, but three dragons striving to protect their own lives simply could not cause as much havoc as five dragons who fought with more confident aggression.

After Spring finished warming the world, the army once more took up the mantle of Death in the Night. We supplemented them when we could. Often we each carried a few elite soldiers behind the lines to let them run wild in enemy camps while we drew attention by burning things down and tearing other things apart. Yet our own army knew that we were more than tools, and that even dragons held fears and grew weary. They did what they could to prove more effective in their own right and take some of the burden off of our wings.

As Spring progressed, Korvarak was fully conscious and aware once more. I would not say he was back to normal because of his great injuries, but at least the pain had lessened enough for him to deal with it without consuming vast quantities of herbs. I think it took a few days for reality to really set into his mind. And when it had, we all did everything we could to try and buoy his spirits.

Nary, of course, was best suited for that job. I think it really warmed Korvarak's heart when he realized that not once had Nary left his side. I think by then we all knew they were meant for each other. At that point even they knew it, though they would not put it in such words. Even when Korvarak was fully conscious again, Nary did not leave him aside from a few short trips into town. She did not even want to return to war until Korvarak was able to take care of himself.

Which, despite his assurances, he was not quite ready to do. At one point he attempted to prove her wrong by trying to walk from the indoor shelter to a spot in the garden where he could go and relieve himself. It was a journey he normally only made by leaning heavily against Nary. He only made it a few limping steps before pain shook him hard enough to send him crashing down with a loud cry. Nary rushed to him, chided him for being so foolish and head strong, and then against his wishes fetched Amaleen and Asgir to make sure he hadn't made any of his injuries worse.

Day by day his injuries healed even if by the standards of a dragon it was very slow progress. The two master healers had stitched up Kor's side the best they could. Yet there were places that were so shredded the scales would never grow back over the scar tissue slowly forming. His wing was even worse. Muscles stitched back together over the top of bones broken and fragmented, and held together with splints at odd angles. It would be quite some time yet before the splints came off, and the bandages could be removed.

But Korvarak was a strong young dragon, with an even stronger heart. As expected now and then he lapsed into sorrow and depression as the months wore on, but thankfully those bouts never lasted long. We always found a way to make him feel better. Kylaryn and Nary told him embarrassing stories from my childhood. Valar played games with him. Nary simply cuddled him close. And most amusing to me, I could always make him laugh when Asgir was around by teasing Asgir about his idiotic beard.

Asgir got along well with the other dragons. Much as I teased the old man, I knew he was wise beyond his years. He also seemed to have a kind heart and open mind matched only by Amaleen. He seemed to find my species endlessly fascinating. He sketched up all manner of pictures of us, and drew himself little anatomical charts. He questioned us on things such as the method we used to make our fire. I explained to him that what we called our fire glands were actually located behind our jaw line, at the top of our throat, rather than deep inside the body.

"That actually makes sense to me," Asgir mused while prodding at the back of my jaw till I hissed in annoyance. I snapped at him to make him pull his fingers away. "If your fire was created too deeply inside your body, you'd run the higher risk of searing your own lungs and throat each time you breathed flames."

I scrunched my muzzle at that thought. "That's just like you, Old Man. Now I'm going to worry about burning my own throat every time I use my fire."

Somewhat to my annoyance, Valar liked the old hermit so much it wasn't long before he was calling him "Uncle Asgir." Valar was always trying to get the old man to play games with him, and it wasn't long before Asgir was laughing and chasing Valar around Amaleen's back garden till he ended up stooped over, huffing and puffing. Valar trotted back over to him, swatting at his boots.

"You're too slow, Uncle Asgir." He danced away on his paws, grinning. "Can't catch me!"

"You need to give Uncle Ugly Beard a break," I told Valar. "Old men can't run so fast. Especially with all that facial hair weighing them down."

Then, much to my delight, Valar craned his head back and peered up at Asgir's twin beard braids. Valar's silver flecked eyes widened as if he'd suddenly noticed the old man's beard for the very first time. Valar giggled like mad, and then said, "Your face looks funny."

Still, I could not deny my inner happiness at seeing my son get along so well with humans. When it was finally time for Asgir to return to his own home, Valar made him promise to visit again soon. Asgir also invited Valar out to visit him as soon as there was time, though I wished he hadn't. Not because I wouldn't love to take Valar to see the Bones of The Earth, but because I knew Valar wouldn't stop asking about it until I took him out there.

As time passed, Korvarak often asked about the war. Sometimes I told him the truth, other times I did not. The truth was, we had very nearly reached a stalemate. Their numbers made it almost impossible to defeat them, and so we could do little more than periodically drive them back for a time. And while we did not have the numbers they did, all our traps and cunning and our improved defensive positions prevented them from every truly pushing much deeper into Aran'alia. By now, it seemed more a question of who's will would break first rather than a matter of force.

Nary kept Korvarak's morale up in more ways than one. One day I returned to find Korvarak sprawled upon his back on a patch of sunny grass. He had a dopey grin spread across his snout as he stared at me in a sort of awkward, upside down fashion. It must have been an ordeal rolling over onto his back with his splinted wing. Obviously he had to roll in the direction of his uninjured wing, and it had probably been quite painful. I couldn't understand why he'd do it.

"Why are you laying like that?" I cocked my head at him. "And why are you grinning that way?"

"Those questions have the same answer," Korvarak said with a little purr.

I snapped my jaws in exasperation. "And that answer is?"

"Because your sister likes to suck me."

"....Oh." I glared at him, but it took a lot of effort not to grin. I should think that were I in his place, I would probably make the effort to roll onto my back often as well if that was the treatment I got. Still, I had to at least pretend to defend Nary's honor. "If you were not so badly injured I would smack you in the eggs for saying that."

"But I am badly injured," Korvarak said, still grinning.

"So you are," I snorted, then shook my head, gesturing with a paw. "I can understand why you'd lay there in the first place then. But why are you still on your back?"

"Because I'm not looking forward to rolling back over." Korvarak glanced at his injuries. His grin faltered for a moment, but it soon returned. "And because your sister's already sucked me twice today. When she gets back, I was hoping to go for three!"

Alright, now that had me laughing. "...Three? You naughty thing." I shook my head, grinning. "And where is my dirty sister, anyway?"

"She went to the market to fetch some food, and some treats." He twisted his head around a little. "Where are Kylaryn and Vos?"

"They did the same, actually."

"Oh..." Korvarak made a face. "I hope Nary doesn't invite them all back for a chat. Not that I don't relish your company, but...I think that would rather put a damper on my chances of a third round of pleasure."

I settled down on my haunches near his head, looking around. "I'm sure the rest of us could find somewhere else to go while you two have your fun. Where's Valar?"

"Amaleen took him for a walk around the city to help him burn off some energy." Korvarak peered at me a moment, then snorted. "You know, when I'm laying this way, and you're seated upon your haunches, you leave me staring at your balls."

"You're welcome." I only smirked, and made a show of rubbing them with a paw. "You can always roll over and sit up. I'll even assist you if you need it."

"I'd rather remain where I am, and you go and sit somewhere else." Korvarak grinned a bit.

I turned my head down to smirk at him. "Do not be envious that I have bigger balls than you, Korvarak. Nary clearly finds yours suitable enough."

"They're not that much bigger," Korvarak said with a snort. "Could you do me a real favor, though?"

"Certainly." I smirked, enjoying his high spirits. I could only hope that they would last him the rest of his life. "So long as you do not expect me to use my snout the same way Nary does."

"Well if you've been fantasizing about that, Val, I'm hardly in a position to stop you." Korvarak laughed a little, then winced when it jarred his ribs. Then he stretched up a green-scaled hind leg. "Actually I've a horrible itch on itch on the top of my hind paw, and I cannot easily reach it without curling up. And curling is quite painful."

I chuckled to myself, and rose to my paws. "You shall miss the view, I know."

"I'm sure I'll get another inadvertent look at the boulders at the base of Mount Valyrym anyway."

"It is not inadvertent when you're dropping your head to stare under my tail," I said, grinning. I walked towards his tail. I gently scratched the back of his hind paw until he groaned in relief and lowered his leg back down.

"Thank you, my friend," he said, closing his eyes and relaxing in the sun.

I watched him a moment. "You are welcome, Korvarak."

He seemed ready to rest, and so I began to walk off, though I paused to call back to him. "Korvarak. When my sister returns, consider spending your seed somewhere else this time if she allows it." I licked my nose, and added, "You would make a fine father, and I would be proud to have you sire my sister's child."

Korvarak did not reply, but the smile that spilled across his muzzle was all the reply I needed.

---

As it turned out, I was not the only one thinking such things. Previously Nary had been hesitant to mate with Korvarak while she was receptive. In part that was because she feared they would spend too much time away at war to properly raise a child. The fear was understandable. Yet with Korvarak's injury the two of them would not longer be away from home very often. Once Kor's wounds were healed enough for him to walk and hunt, he would be more then able to care for a hatchling. And I doubted Nary would allow him to return to the war no matter how much he may wish to. I was not even sure how much more fighting Nary herself would do at this point.

Whatever the case for them may be, Nary no longer restricted herself from him when she was in her cycle. In fact, when her time of heat took her, I don't think we could have kept her from Korvarak even if we wished to. I think she'd realized it was foolish to wait for a better time that might never come.

More than once I went to see Amaleen or check on Korvarak only to find him sprawled upon his back with Nary pressed to him, mounting him in what was the reverse position to a dragon. Usually she wasn't quite belly to belly with him. Instead she tended to straddle his haunches, sitting partly upright atop him. That way Nary did not have to put any extra pressure upon his slowly mending ribs.

"That's a funny way to wrestle," Valar remarked one day. He'd accompanied me to go and see them, and bound ahead of me before I could stop him.

"Yes, it is," I said curtly, grabbing him by his tail. "Now stop watching."

"But I wanna see who wins!" Valar stared a moment longer, giggling. "Looks like Nary's winning!"

"That's not the sort of wrestling hatchlings should watch," I muttered dragging him back by his tail.

"Why not?" Valar complained. "Is it because his thing is going in-"

"Shush Valar," I snapped, though I couldn't help laughing as I took him around the front of Amaleen's house again.

"Seems like a funny way to wrestle," Valar mused to himself. "If it gets bent wrong it's gonna hurt! No wonder Korvarak always loses."

I kept laughing, deciding against asking him how he knew Korvarak always lost. "I shall have to have a talk with you soon, Valar," I said, shaking my head. I remembered in my own childhood I'd certainly caught peeks at a few older dragons mating myself. Usually it was out in the woods, when some adolescent dragons slunk off into the forest to experiment. I also remembered my own father attempting to explain what it was I saw. Strange how dragons could talk openly about mating with each other, but as soon as we tried to explain it to a curious youth we stumbled over our own words the way a hatchling stumbled from his egg. "Or perhaps I shall have your mother give you that talk."

By the time the frequent silver rains of spring had given way to the heat of summer, Nary was with an egg. It was not something she could hide from other dragons even if she'd wished to. Her scent would soon give away her gravid nature, and so she gathered us together one morning and simply told us Korvarak had given her an egg. We all congratulated and hugged her. I told her it wouldn't be long now until she was fat as a mountain.

News spread quickly throughout Sigil Stones. By that point in time Korvarak really had become a resident. They moved his banner to a slightly more prominent point so that everyone in town would know his name, and know what he had sacrificed for their freedom. By the time it was clear that Nary had an egg growing inside her, Korvarak was able to walk around for a little while without assistance. Some of his bandages and splints had been removed, but others remained for a while longer. His wing still needed support, and the flesh across once-exposed ribcage was still doing what it could to finish knitting back together.

But once Korvarak was able to walk to the market and back, the town had a surprise for him. The city threw a massive celebration in honor of Korvarak and the new life he'd created. Granted, Sigil Stones already had frequent celebrations, but this was the first one they'd thrown to praise a specific dragon. It seemed fitting it was for Korvarak. After all he was the first to grow used to being touched and handled by humans, back when they used to harness him up to work around his home village. So the fact they all wanted to touch him and pet him didn't seem to phase him at all, so long as they kept their hands clear of his bandaged areas.

There was a feast and we all ate and drank. They brought out a few barrels of rum and we all enjoyed it a little too much. All save for Nary who glared at us as we constantly reminded her that pregnant females didn't get to drink. I even gave Valar a little cupful of rum to try, though he only had to lap up a few mouthfuls before he decided he didn't want any more.

"Don't you like it?" I asked him.

Valar shook his head, scrunching up his blue marked muzzle. "Tastes like hot!"

Instead, Valar helped himself to the various tables set up with a variety of sweet treats. Before anyone could stop him, he'd devoured three cream-filled eclairs, two puff pastries, several small pies, and had his muzzle buried inside an elaborately decorated cake. Thankfully the townspeople were too busy laughing at the hatchling with the frosting covered head to really feel any anger over the mess he was making.

Besides, if they didn't want a messy feast, they shouldn't have invited dragons.

After Korvarak's injury, the days all blended together for a while. The lines between the seasons blurred. As the summer heat faded into the rainy days of autumn, our lives continued on in the same fashion that they had for the past few years. We spent many of our days in battle, and the days we did not spend in battle were spent reveling in our lives. Amaleen and I often reveled in each other's comfort, as did Korvarak and Nary. At my urging, Kylaryn even grew a little closer to Voskalar. I doubted she would come to feel about him the way she once felt about me. Yet I felt it important she have someone to hold her, and Vos should have the same.

Several times Amaleen and I returned to the Bones of the Earth to visit the Library of Stone, and talk to the old hermit. Amaleen liked to keep Asgir appraised of both the progress of the war, and Korvarak's healing. Though she never said it, I also knew the visits were a wonderful respite for. For a few days, we could venture to a place of peace and beauty, and almost forget the war even existed. I certainly had no complaints about spending peaceful days with Amaleen, or sharing pleasure with her on the warm sands or in the cool silver rain.

By then Amaleen had taught me most of her written language, and had moved onto to other commonly written human tongues. At the same time, I continued to teach her how to speak, read, and write Draconic. Sometimes we sat in the warm sands, or the on the soft grasses, and worked on our book of poems. Other times we roamed around the Library of Stone, tidying the place up and studying the many Sigils carved so many ages ago. Amaleen taught me more and more of them each time we visited. Here and there I pointed out old Draconic Sigils, and when I knew what they meant, I explained them to Amaleen.

And every chance I got, I ridiculed old Asgir about his beard.

With the return of winter, life slowed down a little more as the war did the same. We remained at a stalemate and the heavy snows that fell across the lands gave us little chance to break that deadlock. Not that it stopped us from trying. Some of our men had gotten used to fighting and traveling in the snow. They made very effective attacks on the Illandrans in the dead of winter. The dragons did the same when we were able. For a while it was just the three of us.

When Korvarak was well enough to fend for himself for a while, Nary wanted a measure of revenge against those who had so grievously wounded her mate. Telling her not to go to battle just because she bore an egg inside her might seem a reasonable request, but to a furious dragon with boiling blood there is no reasoning. Somehow I always managed to assign her the least dangerous objective. I kept her to the outskirts of a camp, or had her slinking through the darkness to burn things in the night. She complained about not getting better targets now and then, but we all knew she was grateful each time she returned to Korvarak safe and sound.

By the next spring, Korvarak was free of both bandages and wing supports. His body bore a horrible scar that would likely never fade. A fleshy, uneven pink blotch beneath his wing that marked the place the ballista had torn him apart. It was quite tender, and he did not like having his scar touched even inadvertently. His wing looked little better, the joint a gnarled mass of pinkish scar tissue. With any luck, the green color would return to it some day. His wing stuck out from his body at an odd angle, and he had trouble opening and closing it properly, much less beating it against the air. But he did not complain. Whatever sorrows he might have felt about his lot in life he kept to himself, or poured them out against Nary's scales in private.

Korvarak worked to regain the strength he had lost while healing. He spent many days simply walking around the town, or racing from one end to the other once he had the strength to do so. He was not yet able to hunt for himself again. Yet I felt confident it would not be long until he was doing just that. After all, though dragons preferred to hunt on the wing, it was not the only option. Just as other large predators prowled the woods, so too could a dragon stalk and pounce upon prey. Or, at the very least, charge clumsily into a herd of deer and snatch up whatever beast was too weak or foolish to evade us.

I tried not to think about Korvarak spending the rest of his life without flight. Just as I tried to think the same thing about my son. In an odd way, the possibility seemed to weigh more heavily on my mind than it did on theirs. I found myself staring at Korvarak's injured wing now and then without meaning too. I tried to avoid doing it, as I knew it would make him feel uncomfortable if he caught me.

"Yes?" Korvarak asked one day when he caught me doing just that. "Can my wing assist you in some fashion?"

"I...ah..." I didn't know what to say, but my muzzle and my ears flushed with embarrassment, my frills reddening. "I'm sorry, Korvarak."

Korvarak simply padded over to me, and pressed his nose to mine. "It's alright, Valyrym. I will fly again some day." He turned his head and peered at his own wing a moment as he flexed it awkwardly. He seemed to know just what I was thinking. He turned his head back towards me, grinning. "And so will your son. I promise you that."

It was a lovely thought. "That's good to hear, my friend." I was glad that one of us believed it.

When Nary grew too swollen with her egg to continue to fight, we decided that Sigil Stones was not the best place for her to lay it. Not that we did not greatly appreciate all the town had to offer, we simply felt somewhere more private would be more appropriate. Plus, when the egg hatched, it did not seem wise to have a rambunctious, freshly hatched dragon bounding around the town. There were just too many things that might go wrong, too many accidents waiting to happen. As my old cavern was currently unused, and we had already gotten it as close to hatchling-proof as possible for Valar, we decided to move Nary and Korvarak in there for a time.

It was quite the trip for Korvarak to make, but he refused to allow us to fly him there. So, we all walked to my old home together. I had never done that before. It was an interesting experience for me, walking the same paths that Lenira and the other girls I used to call for once trod upon. Granted, they often rode upon horses or inside carriages, but the idea was the same.

All of us went together. Amaleen rode upon my back, and Valar bound around all over the place, happy to be taking a trip once more. He'd always loved the journeys we used to take him on, and I missed those times. I regretted not being able to take him traveling like that very often. So it was quite nice to take him to back to our old home for a little while. He spent most of the journey running everywhere he could, and then telling everyone that everything he saw was now his. When he got tired he clambered up onto his mother's back and rode atop Kylaryn for a while.

The trip was not easy on Korvarak, but he bore it out without complaint. On foot it took us days to travel the same distance would have flown in an afternoon. Korvarak's pace was expectedly quite slow. But never did we even consider flying ahead. Korvarak was a dear friend, and we made the journey on foot and without complaint to show our support for him.

Quite a few humans made the journey to our old home, as well. They bore all sorts of gifts for the pregnant couple, from freshly tanned animal hides and furs, to silken blankets, to treats and fruits, and toys for their coming youngling to play with. Against my wishes I was even talked into giving a tour of my home to some of Amaleen's human friends.

"This is my bed," I said, snapping my jaws and gesturing with my head towards the pile of soft things. "As you can imagine, I use that for sleep." I waved my paw. "Those are bookshelves. And those strange rectangular things upon them are actually called books."

"And these are your balls," Kylaryn said, grasping my ebony testicles in her paw tightly enough to leave me gasping and whimpering. "And if you are not polite to our guests they shall get quite a squeezing."

"Alright, alright," I whined, squirming away when she released me, much to the laughter of Amaleen and Nary. "I shall be polite."

Still, despite the discomfort I could not help but smile. It was not that long ago I'd never have imagined that one day Kylaryn would be the one telling me to be polite to humans. She had come so very far in the last few years, and it was all thanks to Amaleen. The way Kylaryn saw Amaleen treating Valar each and every day while he was wounded had opened Kyl's eyes to the goodness that could lay inside even a human. The people of Sigil Stones did the rest.

But Amaleen had been the catalyst in making Kylaryn a better person, just as she had for me.

Amaleen was...the kindest soul I ever knew.

There was not enough room in my home for five adult dragons, a hatchling, a woman, and a whole host of other humans, but that was alright. The rest of the people set up camp across the rocky hills just outside my home once they'd delivered all their presents. For a time, we sat outside with them, and shared stories. The humans told us tales from their own lives, and we soon did the same. It took me a while to find a good tale to tell them, and I let everyone else go first.

When it was finally time to let them hear a story from my life, I'd decided what to tell them. I told them of the day I first met Lenira, on my road. Kylaryn interjected now and then, to make it clear she'd only allowed me to best her. That was fine. Let her think what she wished. I told them that it had all began with a mistake. That all I'd wanted was treasure, and they mistakenly thought I wanted a woman.

And then I told them what that led to. A tale of my own selfishness, and of an awakening Amaleen finally brought about within me. I told them of my loss, and then meeting Kylaryn again, in the rain. The birth of my son, the arrival of my sister, and then Valar's horrible injuries. Of Amaleen's kindness and the love that slowly grew between us. They all knew bits and pieces, but no one knew the whole tale. Not even Kylaryn, or Amaleen knew it all from my perspective.

I'm not even sure why I told them so much that night. Some part of me wanted them to understand who I was. To understand...what I was before, and what I had become. It was as if I simply felt they needed to understand just what Amaleen had made me into. Why I had come to fight for these people for the last few years.

Beyond that, there was part of me that felt perhaps I had betrayed Kylaryn. I hadn't thought of it that way until the day we spoke, after I had suffered the poisoned arrow. I saw the pain her eyes, then. I had never wanted to hurt her. But what was done was done. And part of me wanted both Amaleen and Kylaryn to understand not just each other, but to understand why things had turned out the way they did between the three of us.

I felt...oddly happy after my tale. Satisfied in a strange way. If my life had ended that night, it would have ended happily. I was a good person at heart, I thought. I could be satisfied to die, knowing I was a good creature. Looking back, I almost wish I had.

It would have been a better ending.

---

Nary laid her egg not long after she'd moved into my old home. I may as well call the place Nary's home now, because my home was in Sigil Stones. With my sister and her mate moved out, I took up residence once more in the space behind Amaleen's house. Kylaryn and Voskalar remained in the homes constructed for them by the people of Sigil Stones. The other spaces there now remained empty, but Nary visited often and sometimes spent the night. And, with any luck those spaces would one day be occupied by other dragons.

We visited Korvarak and Nary often. The flight there and back was easy to make in a single day, and we did not want them to feel disconnected from the rest of us. Though solitude had served me well for many years, it was no longer a state I felt a dragon should suffer. Korvarak was as much family to me now as Nary was, and they were both beloved citizens of Aran'alia. The humans often made gifts for us to bring to them.

I did feel a little wary about the two of them remaining in a place accessible by humans. After all, there was a reason I kept Valar in Sigil Stones and not the cavern. Still, even if the Illandrans should find that cave, I was fairly certain the two of them could hold their own well enough. And so far the Illandrans had proved unable to push much closer to the area of Sigil Stones anyway.

As the seasons ground on, Nary's hatchling slowly continued its development inside the egg, and the rest of us continued our war on Illandra. Death In The Night never rested. The three of us took extra care now. Rarely did we linger for more than minutes at a time. Often we would slip into the area of a camp in the dead of night or the midst of a blizzard or thunderstorm, slay anyone in the vicinity of the command tents and then quickly retreat. Late night surveillance flights often helped us ensure we were targeting the most important possible men.

Just as we kept up our battle, so too did the army of Aran'alia. Their numbers had dwindled a bit over the years of lopsided warfare, but now and then they were slightly replenished as men and woman came of age. And experience was able to temper our losses just as it honed our skills. As Namar's influence grew, he was soon promoting those more experienced men in order to create a number of new elite units.

Namar himself soon earned a promotion, as well. He officially became the High General of Aran'alia. In truth he'd always been commanding our forces, but for a time each city that sent troops wanted to maintain some sort of control over them. But as the war dragged on, it became more and more clear to the men themselves who was truly in control. It was Namar who drew up the battle plans. It was Namar who selected the soldiers to be promoted to officers. Quite often it was even Namar who lead them into battle. Over time he'd lost a few fingers from his left hand and taken an arrow to the belly and lived. In the process he'd become a battlefield legend onto himself.

By the time he was officially named as the High General of Aran'alia, he was making excellent use of our elite troops. They continued the Death In The Night strategy, and took it to even greater levels. Namar and his elite squadrons were behind the assassination of visiting Illandran nobles and low ranking royals. He was the plotter behind organized rebellions and attacks on Illandran barracks and storehouses inside Lavia. It was his crack troops who captured entire convoys of supplies and delivered them instead to Aran'alia's forces.

And as Namar ascended, so too did Amaleen.

Amaleen, through her leadership, had become the town's de facto ruler. From the day I had returned with her after being poisoned and pushed her to go attend her issues, the town had rallied around her. Every choice she made, every time she stood up and took charge of caring for legions of injured men, or spoke to the gathered masses about the reasons we fought she earned their respect a little more. Though she continued to tell me that she was only a part of their leadership, it was clear who's decision they sought most often.

Sigil Stones was originally ruled by four council members. Because of the War, they decided they should choose a fifth. A sort of Head Councilmen to have the final say on important decisions, or to cast a tie breaking vote in matters put to a debate. They asked Amaleen to help choose another council member, and she was quick to choose Namar. She felt having a military mind among the ranks of the city's civil rulers was important in a time of war. I imagine she also expected Namar to take that Head Councilmen position because of his experiences as general and strategist for the Aran'alia army. However, upon Namar's first day as Council Member, he proposed to the other four that they instead elect Amaleen to be Head Councilwoman.

The vote was unanimous, and Amaleen's journey from orphaned child to leader of the entire city was complete.

I could not have been more proud.

They inaugurated her in a grand ceremony that everyone attended, even Korvarak and Asgir. Nary, Kylaryn and Voskalar flew Korvarak down to Sigil Stones for a few days so he'd not have to spend a whole week journeying. At the same time, I went and fetched Asgir. I found it quite amusing that he was a little nervous about riding on my back again. Apparently since this was a joyous occasion and not an emergency, he thought I might pull some kind of stunt to frighten him. I don't know why he thought such a thing, I was perfectly well behaved when he'd ridden me to Sigil Stones and back before, after all.

No, Alia, I most certainly did not make Asgir scream in terror.

Well, maybe once. Or twice. Three times at most.

Perhaps four.

...Tell him I'd drop him if he didn't cut his beard off? ...Wish I'd thought of that.

The townsfolk hung banners about the plaza and all around Sigil Stones and Namar gave a grand speech. He spoke all about Amaleen's integrity and her heart and how she much she cared for the town, and how she was the perfect fit to rule the place as fairly and wisely as possible. Then Amaleen was coaxed into giving a speech as well. Her speech was much shorter, and deeply heartfelt. In truth she was a bit humbled by being chosen to such a position, and I knew her well enough to know she feared she was not up the task. I also knew her well enough to know that she would make a far better leader then she could ever imagine.

I remember her speech well. Near the end of it, she spoke of me, to the entire town. We had not hidden our love from them. If they had judged us for it, that judgment was long past. They may have once held grudges against Lenira and myself because her dalliances with me had so often taken her away from the city. The flow of time had brought with it forgiveness. That same inexorable flow brought Amaleen's ceaseless devotion to her city, and my dedication to protecting its people. Amaleen spoke of how proud she was to see how far I'd come. She also told the town that she wouldn't be in that position today were it not for me.

Amaleen spoke of things that touched my heart, and if you do not mind too greatly Alia, I shall keep those words to myself.

With Amaleen's new position, she had even less time to devote to me, but that was alright. It simply made our moments alone all the more special. I knew well enough that her town needed her. More importantly, Sigil Stones, and perhaps all of Aran'alia had come to love Amaleen. Her name had spread through our ranks. The whole army knew her as the Chief Healer who flew in on dragon back to attend the wounded and comfort the dying in the final moments after battle. They did not know her as the woman who cried herself to sleep after each and every conflict, large or small. No one knew her as such but I, and no one else ever would. But in the years since the war began, Amaleen's legend grew almost as wide as mine.

...Perhaps even wider.

There were rumors among the people that if we won the war, Amaleen might become the ruler of all of Aran'alia. Aran'alia had never truly had such a ruler. Even among the larger cities like Lavia, the local leaders had never extended their influence too far beyond their own walls. Though Aran'alia was one realm, it functioned in a way as a set of small city-states divided by vast swaths of uninhabited lands. It had worked quite well for ages, all the way up until Illandra decided to conquer it. If Aran'alia had a standing army protecting its borders long before the invasion began, it was possible Illandra would have never crossed that river.

Amaleen was quick to dismiss such rumors with a laugh and a wave of her hand. She had no desire to be a queen or an empress or even Head Councilwoman for any longer than was necessary. When the war was over, she used to say, she would give up her spot to someone more qualified. As if there was ever anyone more qualified to lead a city than someone who truly cared about its people. In private, she told me that she would resign from the council when the war was over so that she and I could go off and simply live our lives together somewhere peaceful.

I am still haunted by the knowledge that we were denied such beautiful, peaceful, simplicity.

Nary had laid her egg in the summer, and it hatched when summer rolled around once more. Though I was not present for the actual hatching, I went to see the child only a few days afterwards. Their hatchling was an adorable little female who had taken most of Korvarak's green coloration, and her mother's golden stripes. From what Nary told me, the moments after her daughter was born were nearly as hilarious and inglorious as Valar's first actions. Unlike Valar, the little female did not immediately pee all over herself. She did, however, immediately bite her father upon the nose as hard as a little hatchling could. She also did not let go until poor Korvarak was nearly in tears.

Valar was going to have to watch his back as it seemed his title of Chief Assaulter Of Noses was in jeopardy already.

They named my niece Arynyra. The name was partly assembled from other draconic monikers, and beyond that they simply thought it sounded pretty. Though they did not say as much, I wondered if they had also named her in part after the land for which they fought.

Arynyra was every bit as rambunctious as Valar had been as a freshly hatchling youngling, if not more so. Though she was only a few days old when I first visited her, she wasted no time in attacking each of my four paws in turn as though she believed each to be a separate entity. Then she pounced up on my tail and soon found herself dangling from my spines. As she hung there clutching my tail in her front limbs, she kicked her little hind paws in the air as though she thought she could propel herself upwards by sheer force of will alone.

Arynyra was also a very vocal little thing. She chirped and squeaked and meeped and trumpeted and yowled and mewled and made every other noise a little hatchling could possibly make. She also held a mighty purr for such a little hatchling. We had only but to start stroking her neck or licking her face and her happy rumbles damn near rattled the scales right off my body.

After Arynyra had a couple of weeks to adjust to life, I brought Amaleen to see her. I was planning to bring Valar as well but I thought it best that Ary be at least old enough to hold her own against an equally energetic youngling. After all, I could tell Valar to treat her gently till my tongue shriveled but sooner or later he was going to pounce her and bowl her over anyway. Thankfully, Amaleen had no such compunction. Though a human woman pouncing a dragon and rolling across the ground would have been an awfully amusing sight.

I was not surprised to see Amaleen fall completely in love with Arynyra. I should think almost any human would be hard-pressed not to do the same with a creature as adorable as a hatchling dragon. And to Amaleen, she was all the more inclined to agree. Yet at first the feeling was not mutual. When Arynyra first spotted Amaleen, her little golden eyes got wider and wider till they shone like two full moons. And when Amaleen stepped towards her, she yelped in alarm, whirled around and bound off to hide behind her parents as fast as her stubby little green and golden-striped legs would carry her.

It was a natural fear given that Ary had never seen a human before that moment. But it was also a short lived fear. Korvarak and Narymiryn took turns cradling Arynyra against their chests to comfort her while Amaleen ever so gently stroked her head. Before long it was Amaleen who was cradling her. Amaleen padded around my old home, rocking the hatchling gently in her arms and singing old human lullabies and other beautiful songs to her.

We all agreed that it would be a little while before Ary was enough old enough to visit Sigil Stones, but that was alright. Valar's first trip there hadn't come till well after he'd hatched, and even then it was a short visit. Which reminded me of something very sweet Amaleen had done for Valar that day.

As Amaleen carried Arynyra around, I gently nudged her. "You should knit her a blanket."

Amaleen's smile brightened the room. "That's a wonderful idea. I'll get started tonight, I think. I'll have to think of a good design for it. After all it was Lenira who started the one that Valar loves."

"You could start with Arynyra herself, and perhaps add in Korvarak and Narymiryn in the background or something." I flicked my tail spines against the floor, glancing at my sister and her mate.

"That sounds beautiful," Narymiryn said with a smile.

"I'm sure she'd love it," Korvarak agreed, grinning at Amaleen. "So would we."

"I'd like to have a banner for her in Sigil Stones too," Amaleen said, stroking the rumbling hatchling's wings. "She's one of us, now, and though the people won't get to see her yet, it would be nice for them to get to see her image."

"And to know her name," Narymiryn added. By then, my sister had dropped all our old name-related habits. As far as she was concerned, everyone in Sigil Stones should know the names of every dragon.

"Then if you don't mind, the next time the other dragons come to visit you, I'll have them bring some artists to sketch and paint her." Amaleen kissed the tiny green dragon's head. "That way the weavers have a good image to work with for the banner."

Arynyra's parents had no objections, and it was not long before Ary was getting to know a few more humans. It was also not long before she was doing all she could to make their jobs difficult. Though Nary and Kor tried to get their hatchling to hold a pose for the artists to draw her, Ary had would none of it. She twisted away from her parent's paws, pounced the artist's shoes, sniffed at their brushes and charcoal sticks, and at least once started eating her own recently sketched portrait. By the time her parents were able to pull the ruined parchment away from her she'd already devoured half the thing. Then as innocently as she could she smiled up at her parents as though quite proud of her art-devouring deed and her charcoal-smudged muzzle.

If she was anything like Valar, that mischievous pride was absolutely genuine.

The artists eventually drew several quality images of her, though she continued to make the work difficult. As a result, they captured a lovely little spark of hatchling mischief in her soft golden eyes that allowed her personality to shine through a still image. Nary and Korvarak were quite happy with it, and instructed the artists to inform the banner weavers that such mischievousness should be part of any image of Arynyra.

By the time the cool, silvery rains of autumn were cascading across the rolling green hills almost every day, we decided it was time for Valaranyx to meet his cousin. It would do him good to have a dragon closer to his own age to play with. Though until Arynyra had at least a few years to harden her scales and strengthen her body we'd have to supervise their play. Still, Valar had been looking forward to the meeting for some time. Ever since he'd heard his little cousin had hatched he'd bounced around, chirping her name.

Or, at least his own approximation of it.

"Argynirble!" He'd say and then giggle at an inside joke he only shared with himself. "I wanna see Argynirble!"

"You can't call her that," I gently told him. "Calling Amaleen Argleblarp is fine," I said, smirking at Amaleen. "But you need to use your cousin's real name to help her learn it."

Valar simply stared up at me, blinking a few times. "Make her name Argynirble!"

"I didn't name her, Valar," I said, laughing. "Your aunt and uncle did. And they prefer Arynyra."

Valar just shook his head, looked down, and gave the most exasperated sigh a hatchling possibly could. He sounded as though he just couldn't believe the opportunity they'd blown by not using his version of the name. "Argynirble's better."

Kylaryn and I took him to see his cousin together. Kylaryn carried him, and he spent the entire time squirming in her paws in excitement. No matter how many times she chided him for misbehaving and warned him he was going to slip and fall if he kept it up, Valar just kept wriggling. By now he probably knew he could sink his teeth straight into his mother's paws and she still wouldn't drop him. Finally, she told him if he didn't stop squirming she was going to turn around and fly back to Sigil Stones, and he wouldn't get to meet his cousin at all. That stilled him, but only for a little while.

No sooner had we alighted outside my old cavern and set him down then he dashed up the rocky trail and into the cave. "Argynirble! Agynirble! Where's Argynirble?"

The commotion had stirred Arynyra from her nap, and she was just as quick to bound towards the exit of the cavern as Valar was to streak deep inside it. By the time they'd actually spotted each other it was too late to avoid a collision. Valar did try to avoid her, skidding nearly to a stop. But like a green and gold meteor Ary streaked right towards Valar until she crashed into him. Valar yelped in surprise as the smaller female bowled him over, and together they tumbled across the ground for a few paces.

No one was hurt in the collision, and after rolling a few head-over-tail revolutions, they separated. Each sat up on their haunches and peered at the other. Valar looked just as surprised to see a dragon even smaller than himself as Arynyra did to see a dragon closer to her own size. They stared at each other, soon stretching their necks out. Little blue nostrils nearly met tiny green ones as each little hatchling sniffed the other. Then, Valar pulled his head back a little.

Beaming brightly, Valar pointed at Arynyra. "She's mine!"

Arynyra promptly bit his finger.

"OW!" Valar yelped, yanking his paw back with a whimper. "Argynirble bited me!"

"Probably cause she didn't like you trying to claim her," I said, laughing. "Let your mother and me see."

Kylaryn walked up next to me, and dropped her own head down to inspect Valar's finger. There was only a tiny droplet of blood on his pad, and Kylaryn licked it clean. "And I doubt she enjoys you butchering her name."

Valar huffed a little, licked his own paw, and then peered down at his cousin. "Sorry, Arynyra." He sniffed a little, then gave a playful growl. "But no biting me! Next time I'mma bite you back!"

As if responding to that threat, Arynyra snapped her jaws a few times, and then giggled innocently as only a hatchling could. Then, she tipped her head back, and loudly declared, "BLORP!"

That only made Valar giggle, and soon he was copying her. "Blorp! Blorpblorpblorp!"

Before long Korvarak and Narymiryn had joined us as well, both grinning. Korvarak lowered his head to nudge at Valar with his snout. "Better watch it, Valar. She loves to bite things. She's as bad about biting as you used to be about smacking people on the nose."

Valar gasped. He stared up at Korvarak as if being falsely accused of some wretched crime. "Only to you and father!"

As we all laughed, Valar rose to his feet. He started to walk a circle around Ary, inspecting her. But before he'd taken more than a few steps, Ary rose to her paws as well. Arynyra pivoted in place keep her eyes upon Valar. A moment later and Arynyra began following Valar around. The two little hatchlings walked in a circle as though stuck in some infinite loop, each following the other's tail.

The loop was only broken when Ary decided to pounce on Valar's tail. He yelped, jumped, whirled around and pounced her right back. Soon they were rolling back and forth across the ground, bumping into the paws of the adults. They laughed and giggled and snarled and growled all at once, and it lifted my heart to see my son finally able to play with another hatchling.

We let them play together the rest of the evening. By the time Kylaryn and I were ready to fly back to Sigil Stones, Valar and Ary had collapsed against each other, both fast asleep. We decided we may as well let Valar spend the night here. Amaleen knew there was a chance I might not be back until the next day. We gently scooped the two hatchlings up to move them to the pile of furs. Both of them grumbled and yowled in the same grumpy hatchling way, and each was soon fast asleep once more after the short journey to softer lands.

The four of us stayed up a while longer talking about old times. We told stories about each other that were alternately inspiring and embarrassing. Eventually when weariness overtook us we curled around our respective hatchlings and went to sleep. It was a good thing Amaleen wasn't there. If she was I'd have never heard the end of how "cute" we all looked sleeping against each other.

Through the rest of autumn we traded off which dragons went to war and which remained behind with the younglings. Sometimes we dropped Valar off with Korvarak so that Nary could join the rest of us when we went to fight in a large battle. Other times I went with only Voskalar, and we hit our enemies deep behind their lines. Sometimes the two of us flew all the way to Lavia to sink their supply ferries and ensure they had no luck in rebuilding those bridges. By the time the snows again blanketed the lands and we celebrated Valar's hatching day with another little party, the war remained at a stalemate. Neither side had many any real progress against the other in months. Yet we held out hope that perhaps this would be the winter in which we would do enough damage to drive them back once and for all.

We planned a large and lasting winter offensive against their snowbound legions. Usually, the heaviest wintertime attacks fell upon our wings, since we were the least restricted by the snow. But over the last autumn we had shifted many of our elite units into forward positions, spreading them out with the plan to advance under the cover of the falling snow and lay siege to several of the enemies forward camps at the same time. The plan was likely to keep my kin and I away from Sigil Stones for quite a few weeks, at least.

So we wished to squeeze as much celebrating into the time before we put our plans into action as possible. First up was Valar's Hatching Day celebration with the falling of the year's first snow. That day also marked Arynyra's first trip into Sigil Stones. She was shy at first around the people, though much like Valar it did not take her long to warm up to them. Nary and Korva had to warn everyone that she was quick to bite, so the petting was kept to a minimum. We played behind Amaleen's home, we had snowball fights in the streets, and Valar had a cake baked especially for him. Despite getting more of the frosting on his face than anywhere else, he sincerely enjoyed it.

No, Alia, I've no idea where he got that habit from.

It snowed often after that. It seemed as though it snowed more that winter than any winter that came before it. Not that we minded. Heavy snows meant another long, cold and hungry winter for our enemies and that was just what we wanted. As the time to attempt our winter siege drew near, Amaleen and I made plans to enjoy the last week or so before battle together.

Amaleen had already decided with the heavier snows we should check on Asgir and bring him a few baskets full of food and supplies. Amaleen was also eager to see the Bones of The Earth in winter. Though I'd seen it under the cover of snow when fetching Asgir to help Korvarak, Amaleen had not seen it that way before. I knew there were truly stunning ice formations clinging to the rocks all around the waterfall. I could not wait to share such beauty with the one I loved.

The snows always brought a lull in the fighting. We were counting on it in fact as it would keep the Illandrans from suspecting we were planning a sizable offensive against them. While things were calm, Voskalar offered to return to Korvarak's home. He felt the people of Korvarak's village deserved to know why they hadn't seen their own green-scaled benefactor in such a long time. He was also planning to tell them all about Korvarak's daughter, and to fetch some of his best friend's belongings to bring down to his new home.

Kylaryn was going to stay with Nary and Korvarak for a while so that Valar would get to play with Arynyra while I was gone. The two hatchlings were nearly inseparable whenever they had the chance to play together. I suspected the two of them would have a lifelong kinship, though I also suspected that Arynyra would pick up all of Valar's bad habits. I was sure that no sooner would she learn to speak than she'd start saying "Argleblarp" at every available opportunity and declaring that everything belonged to her.

Gods protect us if the two of them ever decided to team up and share their claims.

I ventured back to my old home in the days before Amaleen and I were scheduled to visit the Bones Of The Earth and old man with the funny beard. As our trip would take Amaleen out of town for a week or so she had a lot of business to conduct ahead of time. That meant she had little time to spare for a scaly lover, but that was alright. We would have an entire week to make up for it, anyway. We planned to spend the nights in a cozy cavern behind Asgir's house where the temperature wouldn't fall too low for Amaleen. I was going to bring back plenty of extra blankets and furs from my old home to spread around the cavern so we'd have a warm bed upon which to lay.

I stayed up a little too late that evening chatting and laughing with the others, and watching my son and niece make fools of themselves. As I had feared, Valar was trying to teach Arynyra to say "Argleblarp," which was damn near his favorite word. He was also trying to extol to her the many virtues of smoked fish. Arynyra of course couldn't even come close to saying Amaleen, let alone Valar's twisted version of her name. And she was far more interested in gnawing upon Raw Valaranyx Tail than she was any Smoked Fish.

In the morning I bid them all farewell. I hugged my son to myself, licked his head, and told them I would see them within a matter of weeks at the most. It would take Amaleen and I a day or so to reach Asgir's place. We'd probably spend about a week at the Bones of The Earth, and then we'd take another day to return to Sigil Stones. After that I'd have a few more days of relaxation, and then it would be time to have my armor strapped back on and return to the war.

It was simply a part of my life now. The screams of burning men that once haunted me had faded from my mind and my dreams alike. Killing these men while trying to ensure my own survival was simply another part of my existence. I wondered now and then if this was how professional human soldiers felt. Or if as a dragon, I was just more naturally inclined to overcome the guilt of slaying my enemies. For the most part I had given up considering whether these men were conscripts and whether or not they had families who would mourn their loss. They were invaders in my home, and there were only two ways this war would eventually end.

I took to my wings beneath bleak, white skies. Cold winds swirled the silently falling snow around me as I flew. It was a cold morning, colder than I'd anticipated. Amaleen would have to make sure she was bundled up before I took her into the skies. I smiled at the thought. Amaleen always looked rather silly when she was so completely wrapped in colorful coats and cloaks I could scarcely see her. She looked like a children's toy wrapped tightly in woolen yarn. I smiled at that image half the way to Sigil Stones.

My smile faded when I first saw the smoke.

Smoke rose in the distance, inky and black like foul spirits twisting behind the curtains of snow. My heart both sank and accelerated till its ceaseless thudding threatened to shatter my sternum. My belly was twisted by icy fingers as I beat my wings harder, picking up as much speed as I could. I already knew that this time, that smoke was rising from Sigil Stones.

The rest of the journey was spent in increasingly fearful anguish. It felt as though it took me years to reach the town. Yet at the same time I wished it would taken even longer because I was terrified of what I might find in my beloved home. Even as I swept in low over the towering stone walls that had grown to surround Sigil Stones it felt as though only moments had passed since I'd first spotted that horrible, oily smoke.

When I reached the town I could see that smoke still rose from half a dozen locations around the town. The snow-covered streets were filled with people. Fully armored Aran'alian soldiers mixed with civilians as they ran about. Men struggled to find enough water without ice in it to fill buckets to douse flames that still rose from some buildings. I dipped a wing, and spun towards the nearest burning building.

I immediately recognized it as the old wooden city hall. In truth, I could only recognize it from its location. I knew the place well but there was little left of that building now beyond charred walls and smoldering ruins. Quite a few people surrounded it, doing what they could to try and quell the flames with buckets of water and shovelfuls of snow.

In a back alley, bright crimson blood stained the white blanket that covered the land. Several dead men lay sprawled nearby, along with a few Aran'alian soldiers standing over the corpses. It looked as though they had chased the men down and slain them. The dead men bore little in the way of armor, and they had very dark hair. Blood caked their lightly bronze skin. The dead men were Aran'alians. For a moment I was confused. Then I realized there were infiltrators in our ranks. Whether they had truly turned traitor, or were captive men coerced into serving the Illandrans did not matter. What did matter was they knew where to hit us. They knew where our leadership lay.

They knew who our leadership was.

No.

Oh, Gods. No.

I spun in an instant, racing away from the ruined city hall. Even from a distance I could see Amaleen's home was burning. People filled the streets beyond it. All the sound around me fell away. The screams died in my ears, the crackle of the flames faded, and there was only silence.

Silence, and falling snow.

When I reached her house, there was so little left. Her beautiful house was gone. Little more than a charred wreck I too had once called home. I circled it once, trying to process what I saw. No thoughts came to me. No tears fell. I simply...could not yet understand what I was seeing. It had to be some horrible fever dream, and any moment I would awake in that home she'd built for me in her yard and Amaleen would be there to comfort me.

Gods, no.

For a time, I simply could not process it. Even the heat rising from the embers of her house did not seem real. It was like the false pain of some terrible dream. Soon, I felt my wings giving out. I no longer had the strength fly and if I did not land I was going to crash. I managed to alight at the end of the street in front of Amaleen's house, the same street she had walked me down when Valar lay barely alive inside her home.

Her home that had been burned to the ground.

I landed at the end of the street, staring at the mass of people who had gathered around Amaleen's house to try and douse the flames. When they realized I had alighted, many of them stopped what they were doing to stare at me. Some of them lowered their heads. Others turned away. I began to walk, one tiny step at a time. One agonizing inch closer to the unbearable truth I feared awaited me.

As I reached the group of people, they slowly parted around me like water around a stone. I searched their faces for hope, and I found only pain, and fear. Some of them were crying. Many of them could not bring themselves to meet my gaze. Some of them gently touched me as I passed them by. No one spoke. Silence was like a pall in the air.

None of them could bring themselves to speak to me. I knew why, but I could not bear to let myself believe it.

Not until I saw a familiar face in the crowd. Namar slowly made his way through the people. His clothes were stained with soot. He reached out, and put his hand upon my nose, and spoke only two words. Yet they were the worst words I have ever heard in my entire life.

"I'm sorry."

And then I knew that Amaleen was dead.

---

Chapter Twelve

I collapsed there in the street, in front of everyone. I could not breath. For a time, I could not even cry. And when the tears finally came, when I was able stop choking on my grief long enough to cry, my sobs came in ceaseless, wracking waves. People milled around me. I was surrounded by Amaleen's friends...and yet...there was no one who could comfort me.

The woman who had been my only comfort time and again was taken from me forever. And I had not even...

I...

...I...I don't....know how to go on, Alia.

...I am...sorry.

I need...a moment, at least. Gods, Alia, if I had only been there that night.

...Gods...Amaleen...

I am sorry, Alia. It has been so long, I did not think it would be this hard to tell you this part of my life. But Gods, Gods, it still hurts.

I wish the pain and the memories would fade, but they do not. I can only bury them in my heart the way Illandra buried me in this tomb.

But the wretched moment I learned of her death is still so clear.

...I knew Amaleen was dead, and in that same moment I knew what that meant for me, Alia. I knew what that was going to mean for my son and my family and my city. I knew what path I would take. I did not want that for those I cared about. But Blood for Blood, Alia. Blood for Blood. It cannot be denied.

I wanted...so badly...to be a better creature. I wanted to be a good father and a caring person and I wanted to stay and protect these people.

But Amaleen's death did more than grieve me. It cut me to my very core. It pierced me to the very goodness that Amaleen herself had sown in my heart. And in that moment, with that wound, all that goodness began to bleed from me drop by bloody drop.

I...I am sorry, Alia. I...It will not be easy for me to go on. I know it's alright to cry, Alia, but that does not make it easier on me.

...Oh? Val Junior is crying too?

Then you, and Val Junior and I shall all cry together. And when we have no more tears to shed upon each other's shoulders, I will finish my tale.

...

...No, I...do not feel better. But thank you, anyway.

...It is dawn outside, Alia. I have been speaking to you all night. No, I do not mind continuing. I have reached this point, I may as well tell you the rest because I do not think I would ever work up the nerve to tell this wretched tale again if I do not finish it now.

Forgive me if I have been babbling.

I feel as though reaching this point in my story had broken something in my head. My mind has gone in many directions all at once, and none of them are pleasant. I shall do my best to put the pieces back together in something resembling coherence.

Still, you shall have to forgive me if at any point I should ramble too incoherently. If my voice should tremble too greatly, if my words become choked off again, I would only ask that you have patience with me.

It is...all still so fresh. I can still feel the cold snow on my wings. The terrible claws of loss tearing a ragged hole deep inside me that would never mend. I was so unprepared for it. Such pain. I could not have imagined such a hurt, even when my son was injured. For at least then I still had hope to cling to. Now, though, there was no such hope. Amaleen was dead. Nothing would change that.

All the time I spent thinking we should always have hope, and now mine was gone.

I do not know how long I lay in that road, overwhelmed with my grief. To describe how I writhed in agony, to explain how I howled my anguish to the uncaring skies would simply not do justice to the depths of sorrow that I felt in those moments.

So I will simply say that in front of everyone I cried myself to sleep in the cold snow. My mind simply could not process any more pain and for a short but blessed time, it shut down completely. When I awoke I did not feel better. Little had changed. The flames were gone, but the smoke still lingered. At some point, they had recovered what they could of her, and draped a blanket across her.

The snow painted it white.

From my spot on the street, I stared at her shrouded form. Now and then people touched me. I barely registered their attempts at comfort, and their words were but droning noise in my ears. At that time I was nothing but sorrow. I responded only once, when someone asked if I wished them to pull back that blanket that I might view her once more. Even then I could not speak. I only shook my head. She was gone, and I did not want to remember what was left of her. Were she a dragon, we would have kept the fire going until all that remained was ash. But the humans had their traditions to attend to. They wished remains to bury. It was as if they could not understand death until they had put an empty shell in the ground.

A few people came to officially identify her. When they pulled back the blanket, I looked away. Whatever was left of her now was not a memory I wanted to have. While they wept over her, I turned my attention to the ruins of her home. By then it was little more than a pile of blackened soot and charred beams. A few recognizable things still stuck out. The bricks that made up her hearth. The outline of rooms. A back corner bookshelf that had somehow remained partly unscathed, and the burnt out shell of the couch where she had once laid my son.

When the snows had cooled the wreckage enough, people picked through it for any salvageable belongings. Someone pulled a half knitted blanket out from under a pile debris. It was burned but here and there flashes of green color stood out from the blackened char that covered the rest of it. It was blanket for Arynyra that Amaleen began but never would finish. Unlike the blanket Lenira started for me, no one would be able to finish this one.

Beyond her ruined home, the walls of the house she had built for me still stood in a few places. The fire had spread to the second building but had not burned it down as completely as it had burned Amaleen's house. Some of my belongings were still intact. My bookshelf looked completely unscathed, though my pile of soft things was about half incinerated. The people must have put out that part of the fire earlier. Perhaps they had hoped Amaleen had somehow taken shelter in that building. Now that the fire was out though it was clear she never had that chance. The back wall of her house, where it abutted the wall of mine was completely gone. Wherever she had been when the fire started, there were no routes of escape for her.

After all it was not an accident. It was an assassination. After all these years the Illandrans finally turned Death In The Night against us. Perhaps it was our fault for being arrogant. Infiltration among our own ranks was simply not an idea that had ever crossed our mind. It must have been so easy for them. To walk among us, to speak the Aran'alian tongue, to smile and wave to the people of Sigil Stones and then murder Amaleen. They'd probably started the fire at all the exits to ensure she would not escape.

In time, perhaps I would worry about who else had died in the attacks, and who would take Amaleen's place in the council. I suspected it would be Namar even though he was the one who nominated Amaleen in the first place. I caught sight of him now and then, pacing among the crowd. From time to time, he turned away and wiped tears from his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

In a way I envied him. I would have liked it if my own grief could have been more private. But I lacked the strength to even walk the short distance from the street to the icy water where Amaleen used to wash the blood from my paws.

As the day went on, the crowd grew and grew. Some of them wept, others roared their grief. Some of them brandished their swords in the air and made declarations of vengeance against the Illandran army. Some of them tried to comfort me. Yet I may as well have been the only creature in the entire city for all the notice I gave them.

Night fell, the snows ceased, and still I lay in the road. By the time it grew dark, the weeping crowds around Amaleen's home gradually bled away into the city. Someone removed her body to prepare it for her funeral. When her remains were gone, I found myself staring at the place her shrouded form had lain. There was a faint outline left behind in the snow.

Some of her apprentices came to me in the night. I did not even notice them until they slipped their hands under my chin and gently coaxed my head up. The action stirred me to respond, and at that coaxing I rose to my feet. With hands upon my head, they guided me down the street. I trudged through the snow, but in my mind I was still sitting outside that wreckage, wondering why I hadn't been here. If only I had been. I would have torn those burning walls down around her to pull her to safety even if the flames took my life instead. I would have died happily, knowing she was safe.

But I was not there. And she was not safe.

At the end of the street, her apprentices had prepared one of the dragon homes for me. They already had a fire going in the hearth, the air in the little enclosure was warm. But the warmth did not comfort me. When they opened the door for me, I slunk inside, and curled as tightly as I could upon the furs. They brought me food, told me I needed to eat. The food tasted like ash. When they were gone I cried.

I do not recall if I truly slept. If I did, it was fitful, and filled with terrible dreams. Perhaps those dreams were my waking mind.

We buried her the next morning.

When a human died, they put them in a box, and buried it in the ground. When a dragon died in my old clan, their loved ones carried the remains upon their back, symbolically bearing the burdens they swore to carry. I would let them put her in the ground, in their graveyard because she meant something to this city. But I would not let them put her in box to be carried in some cart like cargo. When I roused myself from my trance-like grief, it was with a moment of fiery determination.

"You will not put her in a box," I said to those in charge of her body. I left no room for debate despite the sorrow that shook my voice. "You will put her in a dress. With flowers on it. You will find a blanket that she knit for someone, and you will wrap her in it. And you will place her on my back. I will bear her burden for the last time."

With my instructions given, and tears pouring once more from my eyes, I made my way to the edge of town to wait for her. When they had prepared Amaleen the way I requested, they brought her to me. I lay down, and for the very last time I took Amaleen upon my back. I swore I would bear her burdens for all of her days, but I did not think her days would be so short.

I would never get to watch her grow old.

For the last time, I bore her burden. I spread my wings, lifting them a little to cradle her blanket-shrouded form against my back as I trudged the snow. The snows that covered the hills around Sigil Stones were deep, but they tried to keep trails cut through them in the winter. I took the lead, and left a path through the freshest snow for the others to follow.

She felt so very light against me. Such a tiny weight against my back, and such a heavy anchor around my heart. I felt the loss dragging me down deeper with every step until I felt as though I was the one being buried in the frozen earth. I do not know where they had planned to dig her grave, but it did not matter. I knew where she would have wanted to be buried.

Alongside her mother. Alongside Lenira. Adopted or not they were family. Strange, in a way. Both had been my lover, and both had died long before I had ever felt the aches of old age. Lenira never birthed children, but she had raised many. She had clung to the hope that some day I would offer my love to her for all her days, and in the end she nearly drowned in that hope. Amaleen had no such intentions and yet love found her anyway. For Lenira, she never birthed children because she simply yearned to much for one she could not have. For Amaleen, it was that very love that would have kept her from having a child of her own had she lived a full life. At least Amaleen had been happy. And where Lenira had been looked down upon by many, Amaleen...

...Amaleen had been beloved.

When I reached Lenira's grave, I looked behind myself. A sprawling mass of people spread out beyond me, streaming up the hills, with still more yet pouring from Sigil Stones. The whole town was coming to Amaleen's funeral. In their own way, they loved her as much as I did. I hope that Amaleen knew what she meant to those people.

For a brief moment, that made me smile.

I dug her grave myself. I cleared the snow from the land, and I dug into the frozen ground with my paws. I would accept no assistance. Each time someone came with a shovel I gently pushed them away. I don't think they understood that this was my burden. But they did not argue. They simply watched me dig. The earth was hard and cold. I dug in it till my claws were broken, and my pads were bleeding, and I dug deeper just the same. I wish I could say there was catharsis in it, but there was not. But the pain it brought my paws took my mind off the loss, for a little while.

When the grave deep enough, I settled by the side of it. I held her shrouded form one last time. I knew there was little left of her beneath the blankets and the dress, but I hugged her to the plates of my chest just the same. They had wrapped her in a white and blue blanket knit to resemble the sky, and my tears dripped against it. I whispered my love to her, I told her I was sorry I was not there when she needed me, and I cried the farewell I did not get to say to her.

And then I put her in the ground.

As I began to fill the grave back in with the dirt I'd dug from the ground, people began to speak. Namar spoke first. His voice cracked and broke, and he struggled to say the beautiful words he wanted to offer. He said wonderful things. Everyone did. Many people came to speak of Amaleen. Though their words could not mend my broken heart, at least they warmed it a little.

I remember the sentiments, but not the speeches themselves. She came to this land as an orphan. She made the dragons our friends. She stood up for our freedom. She healed our children. She always made time for us. On and on they spoke. They all knew her in their own way. As I slowly filled her grave with dirt, their words made me smile now and then. Yet, for all that they knew of her, I could not help but think I knew her better.

I knew Amaleen at her all.

When at last her burial was complete, people came to place things on her grave. I had nothing to leave for her. When Lenira died, I fetched her an apple. But most of the physical things that meant something to Amaleen and I had been burned in the fire. For a moment, I thought about flying down to her house, to see if Of Poetry had survived the fire, upon my bookshelf. But I knew Amaleen would have wanted me to keep that. After a time, I pulled some black scales from my body, and placed them upon her grave.

Soon, people carried a heavy stone through the snow, and set it at the head of her grave. I watched them for a moment, until I realized that a hush had settled over the crowd. I turned to look at them, and saw many sets of eyes upon me. They wanted me to give a speech. They wanted to hear me say something about Amaleen. I had no speech in me.

"I have...few words to offer you," I said a little haltingly. "Amaleen is...was...the greatest person I have ever known. Where others saw solitude, she saw loneliness. Where others saw a monster, she saw poetry. When I was filled with anger and greed and selfishness, she pulled those things from me like an arrow from a wound and she filled me with goodness. When I came to know Amaleen at her all, I came to know love. That is what Amaleen was. Love for the world, and all in it."

That was all I had to say. I turned away from the crowd as some of them began to cheer their approval. I had not spoken to win them over. I simply spoke what was in my heart. I had not thought it that way until just now, but it fit so perfectly in my mind. Amaleen was love. And I...I was sorrow, now. Sorrow that I knew would turn to anger soon enough.

I went to the stone, and gently eased aside the men preparing to carve in it. They would have plenty of time to carve what they wished later. But I would carve first. Slowly and carefully I inscribed her name. After years spent under her tutelage I could read and write her language as easily as my own. I knew the people of Sigil Stones would have many things to scribe about Amaleen upon her stone. They had brought her a very large stone with plenty of room for inscriptions and sigils. So while I thought of adding descriptions such as healer, beloved, kind soul...I decided to inscribe something I knew would have meant more to her.

When Amaleen had first mentioned the poetry in my heart, it was after she heard me speak an old dragon oath I had changed slightly to reflect my devotion to my son during his time of healing. Now, I changed that oath once more to tell everyone who ever visited this stone who Amaleen really was.

Amaleen. If you could not see, she would be your eyes. If you could not fight, she would be your fist. If you could not walk, she would carry you. If your days were ever dark, she would rise with the sun. Ever would she shine her light upon you. Whatever your burden, she would bear it for you.

I took a few breaths, and added a little more.

Amaleen was the greatest spirit, the kindest soul, and the most beautiful person this world has ever known.

I swallowed hard, and looked at Lenira's grave nearby. Amaleen's stone was so much larger, but my old inscription was still clear. After a moment, I decided to carve one more thing for my lost love.

My name is Valyrym, and I will always love you, Amaleen.

I wrote each and every word in the common tongue. When I was finished, I took to my wings. I rose above the funeral, snow swirling around the mourners in the downdrafts. I rose until I could climb no higher, and then at last I roared my anguish. Over and over and over I howled my pain until I was hoarse. I screamed my mourning wail to the skies.

The skies had never seemed so cold.

---

There was little to bind me to Sigil Stones after that. All the places I had cherished there were places I had shared with Amaleen. Her home was gone, and the garden beyond it smothered with oily black ash that sullied the white snow. The ice on the fish pond was tinged with soot. Though that pond was ringed with beautiful memories they suddenly seemed so painful. Remembering her handing Valar bread, knowing he would throw it at me always made me laugh. Now, that memory cut me and laid me bare.

Perhaps, in time, the pain would fade enough for me to enjoy the town again. Yet...in the back of my mind, I knew I would be gone before that time ever came. I denied it to myself for a while. I wanted to make this work. Yet part of me felt my heart hardening around that wound where all the goodness was gradually bleeding out of me. Before I met Amaleen, in my heart I'd always been a creature of vengeance. She had made me better than that, but without her steadying hand and loving touch I felt myself regressing.

I knew the other dragons needed to know what happened. I wished I could have gone and told Kylaryn and the others myself. But I lacked the strength to fly that far, and I could not bear the pain of breaking the news to them. I did not want to have to tell Valar that Amaleen was gone.

I spent a few days lingering in the home they'd built for us. Some kind soul fetched all of my belongings that hadn't burned, and brought them into the room I was staying in. I was quite thankful to see that Of Poetry was still intact though I could not stand to read its pages anymore. Valar's favorite book also survived the fire.

Sadly, most of his toys had not been so lucky. Squigg had survived the attempt on Valar's life, but had not lived through the fire that claimed Amaleen. Both Squigg and Rorgie had been buried in my pile of blankets, and there was not enough left of them to present to Valar. At least Valar's favorite blanket remained intact because Valar had taken it with him to my old cavern. And somehow Oodle had remained undamaged, as well. Somehow the little wooden toy who used to ride on Rorgie's back had survived the fire that claimed the less combustible toys. Oodle had been sitting on my shelves at the time. I hoped Valar would still play with him, some day.

Days bled into nights and nights eased into days and I do not know how much time passed. One day I was curled atop the furs in the little room, staring at the wall. The door opened, and I lifted my head just a little. Kylaryn stood outside, snow swirling around her blue body. With her wings, she shielded her head a little from the snows to peer in at me. Her silver eyes were wet, and streaks of tears still marked the pebbly scales of her cheeks.

"I am..." She began, having trouble with her words. Her voice shook. "I am so very sorry, Valyrym..."

"Thank you," I said, my voice distant as I lay my head back down. It is a strange thing to be thankful for, when someone is sorry. Yet it is a saying we can never seem to break away from.

"Is it..." Kylaryn sniffed, and fresh tears ran down her own soft blue scales. "Is it alright...if I come inside?"

"Of course, Kylaryn," I murmured. I gestured towards the furs and blankets if she wished to make herself comfortable. "I am sorry I did not come to tell you myself, but I did not have the strength."

"Don't worry about that," Kylaryn said gently. She made her way inside, closing the door behind her to give us some privacy and keep out the cold.

I looked up at her. Pain shone more brightly in her silvery eyes than I had glimpsed it in a very long time. But she did not let it stop her from teasing me a little bit, no doubt hoping to make me laugh. She nudged me with her muzzle, and gave a little smile. "You've grown large over the years from so much cake. Move aside, you plump thing, and give me some room."

I didn't laugh, but I did smile just a little. In return for her playful jab, I let a little sarcasm creep into my voice. "Are you crying for me, or for her?"

Kylaryn started to laugh a little bit, but it turned into a sob. "Both of you, you silly old bastard!"

I moved aside to give her room, and as she lay down next to me, I pulled her tight against my scaled body. Without any more bidding, she pressed her head against me and began to cry in earnest. As her blue-scaled body shook, I gently wrapped her in my ebony wings. It was not long before my tears joined her own, and together we lamented our loss till neither of us had any more tears to shed. I would not say it brought me joy to see Kylaryn crying for a human, that would sound wretched. But, in some way, it did make me happy to know that Kylaryn had come that far.

When our tears ran dry, we simply lay together and took comfort in each other's warmth.

"Does Valar know?" I finally asked, lifting my head a little.

"Not yet."

"Where is he?" I started to rise to my feet. "I should tell him..."

"No," Kylaryn said, licking my chin. "You should let me do it. You're in enough pain without seeing his reaction to that."

"It will not be any easier for you," I said.

"Valyrym," Kylaryn said softly. "I have lost a friend. The first human I could ever truly say that for. That is an enormous loss for me." She lifted her head, and pressed her blue scaled nose to my own to gaze into my eyes. "Yet you have lost far more than I. I will tell him," she said a little more firmly. "You will rest here."

I had not the will to argue. I hoped she knew how much I appreciated her concern. I licked her nose a little. "Very well. Where is Valar, then?"

"With Korvarak and Voskalar. Vos returned from his trip today, and Nary and I came to see if you and Am..." She trailed off a little, and heaved a sigh. "If you were back from the Bones of The Earth. As soon as we saw the wreckage we found someone to ask what happened. Nary is...distraught, but no more so than I am, I suppose. We've got to go back and tell Korvarak and Voskalar and...and Valar."

"I still feel as though I should tell him."

"No, Valyrym," Kylaryn insisted, licking my nose. "You should wait here. Valar will come and see you soon enough, but let me be the one to break it to him. You are in more than enough pain, already."

I sighed, and lay my head back down on the furs, staring at the wall. I lacked the strength to argue any further and Kylaryn knew it. She gently stroked my neck with a paw, then lowered her head and licked my ears a few times. "It will get better, Valyrym, I promise you."

I glanced up at her a moment, my jaw set. "It never goes away though, does it."

Kylaryn turned her head, twisting her ears back. After a moment, she shook her head. "...No. Not completely."

Kylaryn sat up, and I rolled onto my side, peering up at her. "Thank you for coming to see me."

"I'll be back tonight, alright? I know your sister will want to see you, too. I'm sure the males will, also."

"Not as though I'm going to bar the door to visitors," I said with a little chuckle.

Kylaryn scrunched her muzzle as though she'd heard differently. "Ama...her...apprentices..."

"You can still say her name, Kylaryn."

Kylaryn dipped her head a little. "Amaleen's apprentices say you ignore them when they visit, and that you hardly eat any of the food they bring you."

I lifted my head a little bit. "I...was not aware they had visited me that often."

"Several times a day, from the sound of it." Kylaryn stroked my neck again. "You stare at the wall, and barely respond when they call to you. They leave you food and most of the time you've scarcely touched it when they return."

I had...vague memories of that. "I sleep a lot," I murmured as if in explanation.

Kylaryn stretched her neck to lick my nose. "I know. Nary...will want to see you. I should give you and her some privacy. I'm going to go talk to Valar, and I'll be back later. Alright?"

I shrugged my wings a little bit, moving my head against the furs in a weak nod. "Alright."

Kylaryn gave me a weak smile, and made her way from the little room. She flicked her nose at my tail, and I gave a playful, if half-hearted snap at it. Not long after her blue scales vanished through the door, it opened up again, and my sister's own black scaled face was peering through at me. Her own pale golden eyes shone wetly, filled with just as much pain as Kylaryn's.

"Hello," Narymiryn said weakly, stepping partway inside.

"Hello, my sister," I murmured, and gave her a little smile from the furs. "You may as well come in, unless you like sticking your ass out in the cold."

That made Nary laugh a little bit, and she came inside, closing the door again. She did not bother to ask before she flopped down next to me, but after a lifetime of putting up with me I hardly expected her to ask permission for such things. She pressed herself up against me, covered me in her wing, and pulled my head over in her paws. Then she lay her head down nearby, and just held me for a while.

"Valyrym...while I cannot imagine what it's like, I..." She trailed off a little, and just gently licked my nose a few times. "Well, when Korvarak was hurt..."

"I know, Nary," I said softly.

"Yet for you, it must be...I...I'm truly sorry, Val," Nary whimpered, licking my ear.

"I know, Nary," I repeated, giving her a little smile. "You don't have to say anything. But...thank you."

Nary nodded, and wrapped me tighter in her wings. I could not recall my younger sister ever holding me in such a way. In our youth, as the elder brother usually it was I who would comfort her when she needed it, or cover her protectively with my wing when we were caught out in a storm. Now, though, the storm was in my heart yet Nary was doing all she could to shelter me from it just the same. She could not truly shelter me from this storm, but she seemed to hope she could help me bear it until it passed. It was a touching gesture, and I knew in that moment she was going to make an excellent mother to Arynyra.

I dozed off while my sister cradled me beneath her wings. By the time I awoke it was dark outside. Nary had eased away from me at some point to stoke the fire and keep the room nice and warm. I think it was the opening of the door that actually woke me, because not long after I opened my eyes, I saw Kylaryn sitting on her haunches out in the cold, peering through the door at me. She clutched Valar against the plates of her chest with both her front legs. The little one looked half asleep.

"Do you mind if we come in?" Kylaryn asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course not," I said, sitting up a little bit. "I would never mind such a thing. Did you..." My gaze fell to Valar.

"Yes, and..." Kylaryn looked down at Valar, and she lowered her head to give him a few tender licks. He squirmed a bit, and looked up with bleary, tear-reddened eyes, then pressed his head to his mother's chest again. "I think he'd like to sleep between us tonight. ...Like he used to. Is...that alright?"

I sniffed a little bit, my throat tightening. I tried to add some sarcasm to my voice. "Unless you've an objection to sleeping alongside a scaly old bastard."

"I shall let you know if I ever encounter one," Kylaryn said with a little smile.

Nary moved and gently nuzzled my neck, then licked my ears. "Unless you need me, Brother, I'm going to go home and see to Korvarak. It cannot be easy news for him to bear."

"No," I murmured. "It cannot. She saved his life..." She saved Valar's life, too. I took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. Valar was here now. I had to hold it together. "If you wish privacy with Korvarak, tell Voskalar he is welcome to come and share one of these rooms with us." I glanced at Kylaryn. "He can even cuddle up with Sky-Blue over there, if he wishes."

Kylaryn smirked at me. "Perhaps I shall have him cuddle up with you, instead."

"I am not sure who would enjoy that more, you or Voskalar," I replied, a little more amusement tinting my voice. Then I glanced up at Nary. "Seriously, though. He is welcome here. He should not have to be alone at a time like this."

"An interesting thing to say, given your own choice of solitude," Kylaryn said, cocking her head.

I snorted. "It is different." I looked at my sister, and then at Kylaryn. "Now, if you two are going to change places, kindly do so before you've let the last scrap of warm air out."

They both laughed a little, but their laughter was nearly as forced as my sarcasm. Still...I suppose we had to start somewhere. Nary licked my face and I returned the gesture, then told her farewell as she squeezed her way outside past Kylaryn. Kylaryn then set Valar down on his paws, and pointed him in my direction. He wobbled a little, sniffled and whined, and Kyaryn gently nudged him with her snout.

"Go to your father, Valar. This hurts him most of all."

Valar looked at me, his silver-flecked, golden eyes looked bloodshot and bleary. He took a few tottering steps towards me, and then flung himself against my head. He hugged me tightly and licked at my scales and began to cry all over again. I shifted, easing him away from my face so that I could curl and surround him with my loving warmth. Valar didn't say anything. He just cried. And try as I might, it was not long before I was crying too. By the time Kylaryn joined me in curling around Valar, her tears had joined ours as well.

I had no memory of dragons expressing pain so deeply until that time. Back in the clan when a beloved dragon had passed on, it was not uncommon to see dragons crying a bit during the pyres. Yet any deeper expressions of such grief were kept private. If dragons clutched each other and sobbed together back in my old clan, they did so beyond my view. In public, after the pyre we rejoiced in the life of the one we'd lost. We threw a massive celebration, told stories of the one who was gone, and talked about all the best parts of their life.

Here, in this human town, we threw no such celebration for Amaleen. It was not their way. And whether I had realized it or not I had almost become one of them. Yet now, with this hole burning in my heart, I was less and less like them with each breath I took. They talked of ensuring that her death meant something. That it must galvanize their people so that her sacrifice would not be in vain. They spoke of living the way she would want them to live. Of winning this war. Their words all rang hollow in my ears.

Men spoke of such things. Dragons simply acted.

Yet for the time being my grief had very nearly paralyzed me. I am sure that away from the view of others, the dragons in my former clan must have cried in each other's wings just as we did. After all, dragons were creatures of very powerful emotions. Our anger was legendary, but our love was just as strong, and our grief just as deep. I sometimes think that the old principal of Blood For Blood came about in part because of those overwhelming emotions we were both blessed and cursed with.

It was easy for me to imagine. Blood for Blood probably started with a dragon who had his love stolen him from him. He soon became so overwhelmed with grief and anguish, the only way he could deal with the pain was to lash out at those who had wronged him. To shed blood for blood.

It was easy to imagine because I was becoming that dragon. I had bound my heart to Amaleen with barbed ties. Her death had not freed me from those ties, but the spines were digging deeper by the day.

"You don't have to," Kylaryn whispered to me through her tears. She knew just what I was thinking. I should not have been surprised. After all she had known me my entire life. She gently touched my paw as we lay crying and curled around our son. "I know what you're planning and you don't have to do it..."

"I don't think you do, Kylaryn," I said softly. An idea had been forming in my head, and I suspect it was grander than she might imagine.

Kylaryn licked her nose, and whispered to me again. "Whatever it is, you don't have to do it, Valyrym." She nudged Valar with her muzzle, licked his cheek, and then licked mine in turn as if indicating all of us. "We could make this work."

I sighed, and slowly lay my head down against Kylaryn's shoulder. I closed my eyes, and offered her what I could. "I shall try, Kylaryn."

Kylaryn smiled a little, and soon had laid her head against me in turn. Valar lay curled tightly between us, slowly crying himself to sleep. Neither Kylaryn nor myself found slumber so easily. We lay awake, lost in our thoughts and our pain. Now and then we licked each other's scales, or stroked each other's leg. It was the first time we had laid together around Valar that way in many years. Never before had it been so comforting, and so agonizing at the same time.

---

True to my word, I tried to make it work. I truly did. I wanted to make it work. Not for myself, but for Kylaryn. For my son. I so desperately wanted to let it go and simply live my life with them for a while. I wanted to be a good father to him, and yet I already felt as though I had failed. I allowed him to be injured, allowed his wing to be maimed. I allowed the woman who saved his life to be murdered. Burned to death in her own home. And now I kept my only son living in a war zone on some false hope that perhaps we could drive this army back where it came from.

Yet they had proven their ability to strike at us in the very homes in which we lived. If they had turned Aran'alians into traitors capable of murdering the woman who sought to save their freedom, what would stop them from murdering the son of the dragon who had spent so many years burning them in their beds?

The first time I had that thought, I wondered if Amaleen's death was a message meant for me. It was a tactical victory to them to be sure. As I later learned, not only had they slain our leader but two of our other council members as well. I had missed their own funerals in my grief. In one swift blow, Illandra managed to take out most of our leadership without a single Illandran soldier walking Sigil Stone's cobbled streets.

In the end, Amaleen had suffered the same fate that the other four dragons and I had inflicted upon countless Illandrans. Death In The Night was responsible for many soldiers and officers alike burning to death in their beds. Clearly they had enough information to know where our leader lived. Was it not also likely they knew that the leader of the five dragons was Amaleen's lover? And if so, was it a stretch to assume they knew I had a son?

Perhaps I was simply being paranoid.

As time passed, I was coaxed into trying to find a normal rhythm for my life. Yet such a thing was nearly impossible. Aran'alia was still very much at war, and now more than ever our army had to assert itself. Aran'alia had to show that losing their leader would not diminish their ability to fight or break their morale. And that meant they needed dragons to fight alongside them. Yet the war had brought Amaleen's death. In my heart I knew it was my own stubborn insistence that we stay and fight that prevented me from taking her to safety.

Right then, I did not even want to think about the war. I wanted to spend my time with Valar and Kylaryn, and forget about things for a while. Yet I was unable. Namar felt it important to inact our original plan for the winter assault. Though he did not ask me to fight, they did request that the other dragons join in the battle. I knew they were hoping that when I had recovered from my grief at least a little, I would join them in the fray. But I did not wish to fight. I wished to take my son somewhere far away, and hold him until the pain was gone.

But I could not do that.

With Amaleen gone, Valar clung to me every step I took. If I walked into town, he walked as close to me as he could. He kept his head down for a while. Now and then he told me he missed Amaleen. Each time I heard him say her name properly it broke my heart a little more. All I could tell him was that I missed her too, and promise him that soon he wouldn't hurt so badly. I wished I could have told myself that.

It took Valar over a week before he began to cheer up a little. It is the way of children, regardless of species. No matter what hardship they endure, their spirits will rise once more. I wish it was the same for all of us. I knew that Valar had the strength inside him to overcome this. I played with him whenever he seemed in the mood for play. Day by day, he wanted to play a little more often, and did not cling as tightly to me.

At night, her voice haunted me. I heard her calling my name in almost every dream I had. I longed to slumber because I just wanted to hear her voice again. Yet I feared sleep because I knew when I awoke I would remember once more that she was gone, and that memories and dreams were all I would ever have of her now. When I woke and walked the streets those memories haunted me at every corner. At night she called to me my dreams and in my waking hours that voice echoed to me from every place we had shared.

I thought I saw her now and then. A glimpse of dark hair with a hint of curl to it taunted me around a corner. A white dress with blue flowers worn by someone I didn't know. One of her female apprentices, now long since promoted to Healer, calling my name in the morning. Each a moment that made my heart flutter before casting it back down to the earth.

Our winter time offensive had proved a success. Between Aran'alians who had grown very used to moving about in the heavy winter snows, and dragons who made it far easier to ferry both troops and supplies regardless of weather, we had succeeded in pushing Illandra back from several key positions. It was one of our first truly measurable successes in years. Yet it seemed a hollow victory in my mind.

I thought perhaps if I fought again it would make things better. The next time the other dragons went to fight, I left Valar in the care of the city's new Chief Healer. I joined the others in battle against the Illandran army. Once again we succeeded in pushing them back. The four of us slew a lot of men that day. We killed them with fire and claw and teeth and tail. By recognizing which men were being given the heaviest protection we even slew the highest ranking officers that they had in the area. I wondered, briefly, if those were the men who had given the order to infiltrate Sigil Stones.

Even if they were, I did not feel any better. I still felt empty, as though I were but a scale-clad puppet dancing on some cruel master's strings. We returned home victorious and still I felt the hole in my heart growing by the day. I was trying to make it work, yet it only grew worse. It helped when I had time to play with my son, to cuddle with his mother. Yet every time I went off to fight it was a reminder that Amaleen was dead because of a war I could have taken her away from. Part of me knew she would not have gone, but the rest of me did not care. Every time I walked past the ruins of her house, I was reminded that I had failed to protect the one I loved, and every time I returned to Sigil Stones from battle I feared I would find that they had come for Valar next.

I first kept him in Sigil Stones because I thought it would be safer. Amaleen's death put the truth to the lie I told myself. Years ago, before the war had started, Kylaryn suggested we simply take Valar and Amaleen and fly them somewhere Illandra could never find us. She warned me, back that, that Amaleen's people would lose. With eerily prophetic words Kylaryn had warned me that if I did not take Amaleen away while I had the chance, Illandra would burn the city down around her and I'd be left with nothing but her scar upon my heart.

In the end, Kylaryn was right.

Some nights, when I woke up crying, Valar tried his hardest to comfort me. He hugged my head in his little paws and told me it was alright. He told me he didn't hurt as much any more, and someday, I wouldn't hurt as much either. Gods, did I love my son. He deserved so much better. I hugged him back and though I wished to say something that would comfort him more often than not I simply found myself crying against his scales.

Kylaryn knew what was coming. Sometimes, when I awoke in the night with a cry, when I saw Amaleen burning in that house and my own scream woke me, I found Kylaryn staring at me. Her silver eyes gleamed in the light of the fire that kept our little makeshift home warm, and she fought to hold her own tears in. Kylaryn knew that I could not let it go. She knew me so well.

I tried. Oh, Gods how I tried. I wanted to move past it. To get over it. But I could not. Some days I felt...I felt that no one else really cared. That the city had moved on and selected a new council and a new leader and fought their war and did anyone even remember her name? Remember how she had fought for them? I know it was different for them. For...humans.

But I was so angry, and so afraid. My pain did not fade. It simply turned into anger. And the more time I spent in the town, the more fearful I became for Valar's safety. Namar told me that the men who had murdered Amaleen were a mix of captured Aran'alian soldiers and citizens from other towns. The Illandrans had suffered heavy losses from Death In The Night, and decided to turn it against us. Namar believed they had kidnapped the traitor's families in order to coerce them into turning against us. I saw little to stop them from doing the same to Valar.

I found myself fearing infiltrators. Some days I saw them on every corner. When Anan'alians gave my son an odd look, it rankled me. Sometimes I snarled and chased them away from my son. Valar told me not to be mean. I knew I was growing paranoid, and yet I could not help it. I felt terrible about it. Those poor people had worked so hard to welcome us as friends, and now I began to see enemies among them.

I wondered how long traitors had lingered in our midst before they murdered Amaleen? What if there were more? What if they were waiting for a chance to take Valar from me? I tried to tell myself I was getting carried away. After, Sigil Stones was exhaustively vetting its people now. Surely they would expose any other infiltrators, would they not? Yet the pain made me irrational.

Now and then I told Kylaryn perhaps we should take him somewhere safe. This time it was Kylaryn who reminded me that these people needed our help. After Amaleen's death, Kylaryn's resolve actually strengthened, whereas mine had wavered I was simply unprepared for such a loss, and Amaleen's death had shattered me to the very core.

She had...died...so horribly. I told myself perhaps...the smoke killed her first, before the flames reached her body. That somehow, suffocating on burning smoke would be...less agonizing than burning to death.

In my nightmares she screamed my name and begged to save her and I was not there.

I.

Was.

Not.

There.

As spring rolled around and the weather grew warmer, I only grew colder. It was consuming me. I could not let it go. Clutching such things so tightly had always been a flaw of mine and I would be the first to admit it. But never had I been consumed by something like this. The more Amaleen called to me in my dreams, the more my worst traits began to emerge. Everything good in me was bleeding out, and I searched so desperately for anything to plug that hole.

Yet I found nothing. I felt ashamed of myself for leaving Valar in such a dangerous place. I felt...so unfit to raise such a wonderful child. It was my arrogance, my misplaced confidence that had caused horrible things to happen to the two best parts of my life. Only by Amaleen's hand had Valar lived. If he should take such an injury again because I was too arrogant to realize we could not protect this land forever, Amaleen would not be here to save his life once more.

I took to laying in Amaleen's back garden. After the snows had melted, it grew wild and untended, like a tiny lush forest in the middle of town. I made my own trail that lead to the soft area near the pond where Amaleen and I used to spend our evenings. I found an old blue ribbon back there, and I put it around a low hanging branch where I could see it as I lay in the grass and moss. As I stared at that branch, I thought about how secluded we used to think it was in her garden. As though no one in the whole world could ever find us there.

How terribly, terribly wrong we had been.

I wondered then if the generals and royals of Illandra felt the same way. Snug in their fortresses, their citadels and castles. Directing a war half a continent away without care or concern for the lives they ruined and the lands they stole. They cared so little for their actions because they never had to suffer the consequences. Losses to them were only numbers. They were not the family at home who was devastated to learn their loved ones were dead. They were not the villager whose home was burned to make a point. They were not the wild, beautiful country just trying to survive and live free. They had never in their lives felt the pain and loss and heart-wrenching agony that their wars brought about.

They did not understand. They knew not the pain they caused.

When I realized that, I finally gave in to my nature. I gave in to the old ways. I gave in to Blood for Blood. I would make them understand the consequences of their actions. Even if Aran'alia won this war, Illandra's royals would not understand what they'd done. They would not feel the pain of loss that we felt. That I felt. They would be disappointed, perhaps even embarrassed to have lost to a country of wildlings. But they would not understand the anguish their actions had inflicted.

Not unless Blood for Blood was satisfied. Only then would they understand the pain we felt. They had taken from me, and I would take from them. They had struck down our leadership, and so would I strike theirs. Not their commanders in the field. Not their generals gathered around tables in the cities. No, I would take from the one who had truly started this war. I would bring its consequence to bear full force upon his head, and I would strike a blow for Aran'alia the likes of which Illandra could not imagine.

It would mean such terrible things. I would have to say goodbye to Sigil Stones. I would hold Kylaryn for the last time. I would...I...I would have to leave my son behind. That was the hardest part. That was why I tried to fight it for so long. But I could not.

Blood for blood, Alia. I could not let it go.

Illandra struck us at our very core, and so I would strike at theirs until they were on their knees. Until they knew my pain.

Blood.

For.

Blood.

I was coming for their King.

---

Chapter Thirteen

Before I left, I would spend as much time with my son as I could. And I had to figure out how to tell him I was leaving. First, I had to tell Kylaryn. Part of me felt as though I were abandoning not only my family, but my home as well. That if I stayed and helped us continue to fight, perhaps we would eventually win. But that part of me was overruled. That part of me was bleeding out along with the rest of the things I was proud of.

When there was a lull in the fighting and the dragons had a few days to themselves, I took Kylaryn outside the town. Together, we flew to the beautiful, grassy hill were Valar was conceived. We landed among the many jagged spires of stone, settled upon the sun-warm grass, and simply leaned against each other for a little while.

"Blood for blood," Kylaryn murmured before I'd even opened my mouth. "That is what you've brought me here to talk about, isn't it."

"You know me too well, Kylaryn," I said, nuzzling her cheek a little.

"I have known you my entire life, Valyrym," Kylaryn said with a little laugh. "You call me a mystery, and yet for many years you were just as much a puzzle to me. I merely pieced you together earlier than you did me."

"If you had stayed..." I said, easing myself down onto my belly, sighing a little. "That day, on the road. If I had but listened to what you had to tell me. If you had but lingered a little longer..."

"It would have been different, yes. And yet the winds have always sought to carry us in different directions, Valyrym." Kylaryn gave me a little smile, settling down next to me. "It is only the strength of our will that brings us together now and then, despite what the winds may wish."

I smiled a little, and curled my neck to lay my head down against Kylaryn's fore paws. "I hope that over the years you have forgiven me."

Kylaryn pulled her head back a little. "What should be forgiving you for, hmm?"

"For being a stubborn fool," I said, glancing up at her. Then I sighed, and gently licked the back of her front paw. "For...everything I have ever done to hurt you Kylaryn. For I am truly sorry for all the pain I must have caused you over the years."

Kylaryn took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. A distant look flickered in her silver eyes as she stared over the many rolling emerald hills that stretched across the horizon. The stones that marked them looked like the spines on the back of some great green serpent. "Valyrym, I have forgiven you for those things years ago. It was you yourself who taught me that some things simply had to be forgiven. That I had to let go of the anger that boiled so deeply inside me before it burned away my heart. There is nothing left for me to forgive you of, Valyrym. You have lived your life the way you thought you should live it, and you strove to make yourself a better creature. And you have. If you wish to hear me say it, then yes. I forgive you, Valyrym. It happened years ago, but I forgave you completely."

A wistful smile spread over my muzzle. "I am...very glad to hear that, Kylaryn."

"I should hope that you would forgive me as well," Kylaryn said, her voice growing softer.

"For what?" I tilted my head back a little to peer up at her.

"For being so uncertain. For being afraid to bring myself to you in those early years, for acting like a childish brat. For not knowing if I should cling to you or toss you aside, and for leaving you to wonder just what the hell I was thinking." She licked her nose and gave a little sigh, shaking her head. "For...fighting with you over the years. For...trying to better you in every way. For arguing with you over every little thing I could." She took a deep breath, and held it for long moments. I licked her paw a few times, and finally Kylaryn gave another sigh, this one much longer. "For putting the idea in your head that you and I could never truly work together as life-mates."

"You don't need to ask for forgiveness, Kylaryn," I said gently, nuzzling the base of her throat. I gave her powder blue scales a few gentle licks. "But I forgive you all the same."

Kylaryn swallowed hard. Her voice tensed up, cracking a little. "You...don't think you'll be coming back, do you."

"I don't know," I said, but she was right. I was not asking for forgiveness simply because it seemed an appropriate time to do so. I simply did not think I had much time left in which to ask.

"Then I should hope..." Her voice broke a little. She tensed her paws against the grass, her claws tore ruts as she tried to steady herself. "That you would also forgive me for failing to tell you that I had grown to love you back when it might have actually made a difference."

The winds that carried us were fickle. How they toyed with us. How they pushed us together and tore us apart. How easily they could have kept us together. How if I'd only seen Kylaryn at her all I might have spent my life with her, instead of Amaleen. Yet that was not the way the winds carried us. And so it had not come to pass.

Kylaryn's profession of love was not a complete surprise. She had admitted very nearly as much in the days after I'd been poisoned, when I told her how I'd come to love Amaleen. But she'd never come right out and said it. After all, when she'd nearly admitted it before I was already mated to Amaleen. Yet I was glad she had put it to words at last. I thought it would be good for her, and I was glad to know.

"I forgive you, Kylaryn," I said gently, nuzzling at the base of neck. I felt her trembling a little, she was trying not to cry. I did not think there was anything to forgive, and yet I knew the words were a comfort. But I did not want her to spend her life lamenting what might have been between us. "Curse not the winds, Kylaryn. Rejoice instead that they brought us together long enough for that love to grow. That they brought us together in time to make such a beautiful son." I looked away a moment, licking my nose and flattening my ears back. "It was only through the losses that we bore, the friendships that we missed, that came together that day and decided to create life."

Kylaryn sniffled, and turned her head towards mine. I lifted my head a little, and she rolled a bit to her side to gently stroke my neck with her paw. "Amaleen was right, you know."

"About what?"

"You do have poetry in your heart," Kylaryn said with a wistful smile, pressing her paw to my chest. "I would never have guessed such a thing. And that, I suppose...is why you thought you could not love me. Why you thought that I could not love you." She stroked my chest plates a little bit. "You are not the only stubborn fool, Val. There were years we were together, that I denied it to myself. I thought, him? Valyrym? Yes, he is a sexy male, I will admit that, and yes, he does make a good father to my son."

Her words made me smile a little. I blushed lightly under my scales and inside my ears. I lifted a paw, and stroked the blue scutes of her foreleg and let her continue to speak.

"I thought, Valyrym is an excellent friend, yet he is a wild beast at heart. Arrogant and egotistical, and I certainly could not love such a creature."

My smile faded, and my ears and spiny frills flushed all the darker from shamed embarrassment.

Kylaryn smiled at me as she went on, her eyes shining like wet silver coins. "And yet, I did come to love you. I know I should have told you, but I was afraid. I was...embarrassed, I suppose. So many years I had spent trying to better you, for reasons I still do not understand. You have said many times that you were always my friend, Valyrym, and it is true. You were the only one who was always there for me when I needed you. When my wings were broken only you came to visit me every day. Only you promised me that I would fly again. Why I felt the urge...the need to beat you at something...I simply don't understand."

"To impress me," I murmured, glancing down at the grass beneath us. "It is the wilderness in our blood, I think. The old ways. An instinctual need to impress me." Then I smirked. "Or just your own ego manifesting itself before you were old enough to truly control it."

Kylaryn flicked her tail, and laid it across my own. She flared up her spines a little. "Whatever the case, Valyrym, I wish it were not so. It made us rivals when I wished us to be friends. It made us distant when I wanted us to be close. It took..." She pinned her ears back against her head, flattening her spines once more. "It took years of spending my life with you and my son for me to realize what you'd always meant to me. And only when I was away from you for months, searching for my brother, did I realize I loved you. It took your absence from my life to make me see the truth. That nothing warmed my heart more when I returned from another fruitless search than to find you and Valar waiting for me at home. To see you smile at me, and ask me if I'd found him yet." She finally lowered her head to the ground, and closed her eyes. "I should have told you then that I loved you."

"The winds that carry us, Kylaryn." I lowered my head alongside hers.

Kylaryn nudged me a little, and put her paw atop my own. "You are lucky to have had her, Valyrym. Not everyone shares love so deeply."

"I know," I said softly. I wished at that moment Kylaryn's love had not gone so unrequited. I knew that if I stayed, and we lived and the war was won, that I might grow to love her just the same. I think there was some part of me that had always loved Kylaryn in a way, despite my denials. But..."in a way" was not what she wanted, and not what she deserved. She deserved so much better. "If I were to stay, and this war were to end, I might grow to love you too, Kylaryn. I hope that you will find that comforting, some day. I would never want you to feel as though you were unloved."

"And how do you feel about me, right now?"

I swallowed, turning a little to peer into her eyes. "That you are my best friend. That over the years I have treated you unfairly, and that you deserve all the wonders and love this world has to bestow. I wish that I had such gifts within my heart to give to you, but I do not."

Kylaryn pressed her paw to my chest again, smiling just a little. "You've too much poetry in your heart to fit anything else, hmm?"

I tried to smile back. I was glad her spirits were still high. But my smile faded. "I fear that is long since bled from me, Kylaryn, and left my heart empty. The brambles that once wrapped it have pierced me and bled me dry." I slowly lay my head back down. "I should have listened to you."

Kylaryn turned herself to lay her head nose to nose with mine. "About what, my old friend?"

"We should have taken Valar, and we should have taken Amaleen, and we should have left this place." I closed my eyes, and sighed.

"No, Valyrym," Kylaryn said firmly. "You were the one who was right. You have lost your love, yes. But look what you have gained. Look what you have done for us!" She opened a wing and waved it back in the direction of Sigil Stones. "Every dragon who sets foot there is a friend to them, Valyrym. They rejoice in our presence. I would have never in my life considered humans to be anything but dangerous, and yet every human there is our friend! Where I would have fled with my son and left them to be slaughtered, you stayed behind and protected them, and now they call us friend." She trailed off a little. Her voice soon returned as a fervent whisper. "Do you have any idea what that means, Valyrym? You and your decisions have made dragons and men friends!"

I smiled to myself a little. "I shall always be proud of that. Beyond fathering my son, this friendship between our two species is likely the only thing of note I have actually accomplished in this life. To think that for a time, I managed to overcome my selfishness long enough to do something truly meaningful. It bring a little happiness to my increasingly hollow heart."

Kylaryn watched me closely for a moment. "If this land is overrun, it will mean little in the long run. Our kind will be slain and driven out, and the people of this land murdered or made into slaves, and our friendship with them will be forgotten." She hardened her voice a little. "We may not be able to do this without you, Valyrym."

"I am increasingly unsure you can do this with me," I said, sighing.

"We have made excellent progress," Kylaryn insisted. "We've had more victories against them recently than we have in years."

"And yet they pour more and more men into our lands. Their leaders sit on their thrones in distant realms, uncaring for the suffering they have inflicted." I slowly shook my head. "I am sorry Kylaryn, I am so sorry. I have tried to make this work, but I cannot. I cannot let this go. They must understand the pain they have inflicted. They must know their actions have consequences."

Kylaryn slowly lifted her head. "Who is this really about, Valyrym? Amaleen? Our enemies? Or is this about you?"

"Every night I dream of her, Kylaryn," I said, pain creeping into my voice. "Sometimes I see her. Sometimes she's dancing in the rain. Some times she's swinging Valar around in her arms and laughing. Sometimes she's riding on my back, reveling with me in the sheer joy of flight!" My voice began to tremble. "Other times she's...screaming. She calls for help, and I am not there. She's...so afraid. Sometimes...sometimes she's burning, Kylaryn."

Kylaryn sighed, and pulled my head against her chest plates. I whimpered and for a few moments, I cried softly against her scales. "I wish I could just live somewhere quiet with you and Valar. But I cannot let this go. You know me, Kylaryn...blood for blood is who I am."

"It isn't what Amaleen would want, Valyrym," Kylaryn said as gently as she could.

I knew Kylaryn was right. But it didn't change things. "Amaleen is dead."

"Yes," Kylaryn said simply. "She is. But Valar is not."

That made me tense up. That was going to hurt me the most.

"You would leave your son behind, for revenge?" Kylaryn's voice held no accusation. In years past she would have used that question as a claw, and dug it beneath my scales. She would have twisted it to try and make me stay. Now, though, she had grown into a better creature even as I was regressing into something worse. Now, Kylaryn was simply...trying to understand me.

"I have come to a terrible realization, Kylaryn," I said, admitting something I wished was not true. "I have not been a good father to my son. I have put him in danger time, and time again. He almost lost his life because of me, and it was only Amaleen who kept him alive. The longer I stay here the more danger I feel he will be in. It was my decision to keep him here in Sigil Stones.

"Yet before Amaleen's death, if this city were to fall, then Amaleen would have stayed here to defend it with her own life, and I would have stayed with her. If you had not flown Valar to safety by then he likely would have watched me die. Even if you'd evacuated him, he would have wondered the rest of his life why his father did not go with him. And when Amaleen was murdered it put the truth to the lies I told myself. I realized my decisions were keeping not Valar safe after all. If they can slay Amaleen in her own city, they can slay the children of the dragons who protect it. Worse, they can capture those children and use them against us. The longer I stay here, the more it makes Valar a target."

I spoke between my sobs. The more I talked about Valar, the harder I cried. Gods, how I loved my son. If I had been a creature of stronger will, of greater integrity perhaps I would have stayed by his side. Yet, I had truly come to believe my continued presence was endangering him. Looking back now, I wonder if I was simply feeding myself excuses to avenge Amaleen and end my own pain in the attempt.

"I love him, Kylaryn," I said, my voice a choked, pained whisper. "The Gods know I love him, but look what I've brought to him. I took him to a place where humans could fill him with arrows. I let the woman who saved his life be murdered, and for years now I have left him in a vulnerable place while war burns the land down around him. He deserves better. So much better." I swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. "So yes, Kylaryn. As much as it crushes my heart to think of it, I will leave him behind. And I will do so because I know that unlike me, his mother will protect him. If that war gets too close to Sigil Stones, I know you will take him, and you will fly him somewhere that the humans can never, ever find him."

With that, I had no more words to speak of my son. I simply cried, my body shaking.

Kylaryn cradled my head against her scales. She had begun to cry a little bit as well. Kylaryn knew she could not change what I was going to do. Yet it buoyed my heart just a little to know she cared enough to try, and that in our last days together, she wished to understand me more then ever.

When we had finally calmed a little, the sun was beginning to set. She nuzzled me, and licked at my cheek. "What will you do, then? Strike out at their commanders? We could help you. Namar says their command here is centralized in Lavia. With the four of us, we could bring that citadel down."

"The three of you could likely do that without me," I said, nuzzling at her chest. "But that is not my plan."

Kylaryn peered down at me, gently stroking my neck with one paw. "Then what is your plan?"

"Those who killed Amaleen are already dead, slain by our own soldiers. Those who gave the order are likely to fall in battle or burn in dragon flame soon enough. And those who are above them in turn likely do not even know her name. And those yet higher still up the ladder do not care. This...army, this country of Illandra...it is like a snake. We poke and prod at its tail and now and then cause it a bit of discomfort. But this snake sits coiled, fat and happy upon its throne. It knows not the suffering it has caused. Nor will it ever know that suffering until someone brings this war to bear on the snake itself. Until someone makes this monster understand the pain it is has caused."

I was that monster once. It was Amaleen who showed me the truth. Now, I would pay that lesson forward, but it would not end so well for them.

"What...are you going to do?" Kylaryn slowly pulled her head back.

"I am going to find this snake, and tear out its heart." I turned my eyes to Kylaryn's, my gaze hardened with dreadful resolve. "They shall know that The Dread Sky struck at the very heart of Illandra, and they shall know our pain. Let us see how their army functions when their entire country flounders as their king comes to know the pain we have suffered."

"You mean to kill their king," Kylaryn whispered. Her voice sounded both fearful, and oddly hopeful at the same time. I could see it in her eyes. She thought if I was to slay their king, there was a chance it might end the war.

"Amaleen was our leader," I said simply. "The king is theirs. When all the layers of this conflict are torn away, it becomes exceedingly clear who is to blame for Amaleen's death. None of this would have happened if their king had not given the singular order to invade Aran'alia. I shall see to it that he suffers as I have suffered, or I shall fall in the attempt."

Kylaryn was silent for long moments. She knew there was no sense in trying to talk me out of it. I found her unreadable, for a time. Perhaps she was simply hopeful that I would kill him. I knew she was also hopeful that I would survive the attempt. She gently put her paw on mine, and when she spoke her voice was a whisper so soft it was barely even there. I almost thought I had imagined her words.

"When it is done, Valyrym," she said, peering at me hopefully with tear-stained eyes. "You could always come back to us."

I wished it were so simple. I thought about telling her I would. That I'd return some day and hold her in my arms and wrap her in my wings and everything would be alright. But Kylaryn deserved to know the truth. I had no false hope of success, and if I did succeed? I did not expect to survive much longer. "I believe this will end me, Kylaryn."

Kylaryn sniffed once and looked down. I stroked her neck a moment, and then she pushed herself against me and began to cry once more. I clutched her tightly, and slowly eased down against the grass, and simply held her while she sobbed. As Kylaryn cried against me, even the sunshine on my back felt cold.

I wish, so badly, that I had stayed with her. But I simply could not let it go. Amaleen was everything good in me, and Amaleen was gone. And in her place, there was only blood for blood. I look back now and think it was terribly selfish of me, and yet...feeling this pain again I know why I could not stop myself. Never in my life had I imagined I could be hurt so deeply, overwhelmed so completely by sorrow. It shut me down. The only thing I could think of was revenge. The only course of action I felt able to take was the old way. And if in following the old way I could strike a definitive blow for Aran'alia so be it. And if the attempt should end my life, then so be that as well.

I think, at the time, I hoped it would.

---

Before I would leave him behind, I had one more gift to give to Valaranyx. But first, I had to tell him the truth. That I would not be there for him as he finished growing up. That I would be gone from his life. I did not wish to lie to him, or give him false hope. He was my son, and he deserved to know the truth.

Telling my son that I was to leave and never return was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. It was easier for me to put Amaleen in the ground than it was for me to speak those words to my son. I knew he would not understand, at least not first. But I wanted to tell him in time for him to start accepting it before I actually left. I wanted him to relish what time we had left together the way I would relish it.

The next morning, I took Valar somewhere quiet, and I broke his heart.

The way he cried.

I will never forgive myself for putting him through that.

But I would not lie to my son. In my heart I was sure this journey to avenge Amaleen would be the end of me. So I told Valar that soon I would have to leave, and that I did not think I would be able to return to him. I could barely spit out the words without choking on them, and every tear he shed was a knife in my gut, a spear thrust through my heart. I told myself all I had to do was stay. I told myself that Amaleen would want me to stay.

But Amaleen was gone. And no one would avenge her but me. I lived my life as a dragon, not as a man. A dragon would avenge his murdered love even if it cost him his own life. It had always been the way of things for dragons. And so it was the way of things for me. Their king would come to know the anguish and the madness he had wrought upon the innocent, and I would be the one to deliver that knowledge unto him.

Yet, it was not a path I wanted Valar to follow. So I did not tell Valaranyx about Blood for Blood. I did not tell him about revenge. I told him that I was going to fight the people who killed Amaleen, and that I would fight them until they were all gone or I had given my own life trying to stop them. I hoped that as Valar grew he would not rightly infer that I had gone for revenge.

When I got the words out through my tears, all Valar could do was cry. He cried too hard to beg me to stay, though his pleas were in every tear he shed. I wanted to tell him that I had judged myself an unfit father for all the danger I'd knowingly put him in, but I lacked the strength to try and explain a thing. Besides, to a young son there was no such thing as an unfit father unless they were abused or abandoned. I so fervently hoped Valar would not grow to feel I had abandoned him. I wanted him to think that in my own way, I had simply been doing what I felt I had to do.

No one else would avenge Amaleen.

Vengeance did not matter to the humans the way it mattered to a dragon. The way it mattered to me. It was my burden to bear. To bring justice for her murder, and to make their king know the pain he had caused. Once, I nearly let it slip. I said something about being the only one who could carry Amaleen's burden all the way to the man who started the war. I hope it flew over Valar's head.

I wanted my son to grow up and be a better creature than I had become. I wanted Valar to grow into a dragon like I had been while Amaleen was alive. I never wanted him to be the simple, selfish beast I had been before I met Amaleen, nor the monster I became after her death. A monster with a hollow heart filled only with anger and regret and with far too much blood on his paws.

I told Valar over and over that he was the best part of my life. I did not want him to feel as though any of this was his fault. I wanted him to know that I would think of him everyday while I was gone. I assured Valar that my life had been made infinitely better with him in it than it had ever been without him. And finally, when his tears had slowed, I told him that this was simply something I had to do. Sometimes a dragon came to realize they simply had to do something because no one else would. That was why we had protected the people of Aran'alia. Because no one else was there to help them.

I almost wish I could not recall the conversation. But it is all there, clear as the sun in the sky. Yet I lack the strength to repeat it in detail. Suffice to know he asked me why I had to go. Why couldn't I come back? I always came back before. He didn't want me to be hurt. Would I be hurt like Korvarak? Would I be killed like Amaleen? He asked why I had to fight? Why did I have to do this? Finally, I simply told him that I was the only one who could reach the leader of our enemies, but that I was unlikely to be able to return after I found him.

It was close enough to the truth.

Valar spent much of the day crying, and I cried with him. Though part of me felt I was abandoning my son merely in the pursuit of revenge, I did not want him to see it that way. Abandonment to me indicated a lack of love, and that was not the way of things. I wanted Valar to know just how much I loved him.

After my talk with Valar, I had a few weeks left before I would leave. I wished to spend all that time with my son, and his mother. I also had to prepare the town for my absence. I informed Namar and the people around town of the general idea. For the most part I told them I planned to make a series of attacks inside Illandra. I told no one the details of my true target. If there were spies in town, I did not want them to know what I was planning. Let them think I was simply going to be attacking convoys and outposts in Illandra. With any luck, I would succeed and word of my real final deeds would reach Aran'alia. Perhaps it would even galvanize them to fight on harder than ever.

Unlike Sigil Stones, I told the other dragons the truth. It was nearly as hard to tell my sister as I was to tell Valar. Nary cried against Korvarak and though Korva tried not to cry he too shed a few tears. So did Voskalar, which both warmed and burdened my heart just a little bit more. They all tried to talk me out of it, but Nary knew me well enough to know there was no going back now. Amaleen's death had opened a door that could never be shut. I was sworn to this now, and the old ways demanded I carry it through.

I spent as much time with the other dragons as I could. Arynyra was growing swiftly, and already made an excellent playmate for Valar. I relished the days I had left, watching Valar play with Arynyra. Sadness still clutched at Valar's heart, but in the way of children he slowly shed it day by day. It would return when I left, but I was happy to know he would overcome it. Watching him play even in such dark times, I felt secure in the knowledge he would grow up to be a better creature than I.

At night I slept around Kylaryn. Sometimes we slept out in the hills, other times we slept in the houses that Sigil Stones had built for us. Some nights, when Valar was asleep, Kylaryn pulled me tightly against her and we mated in passionate silence. It had been ages since I'd been with another dragon, and the fact that Kylaryn had grown to love me only made it that much sweeter for both of us. Kylaryn wanted me to be happy in my last few weeks here, in Aran'alia. Dragons had always reveled in the pleasures of life, and my only life-mate was now long gone. Kylaryn did what she could to make me forget my pain for a little while at night.

I flew to the Bones of the Earth. By then Asgir knew about Amaleen, but that did not stop him from hugging my head to his chest and holding me as though we had been best friends our whole lives. I did not tell him what I planned to do. Then again, I did not have to. He knew dragons quite well, and he simply made a point to tell me that one day, symmetry would find me again.

"One day, one way or another," he said, seated on a log he'd carved into a seat. "Happiness will find you again, Dragon."

"By that day I think I shall be dead, Old Man," I said with a bitter laugh.

Asgir only offered me a knowing smile. I brought him some of Amaleen's books. They'd always been among her favorite possessions. Because she'd kept them upon my bookshelves to share them with me, some of them survived the fire. Asgir was the perfect candidate to give them to. He had always seemed like the father Amaleen had never really known. Over the years his beard had grown longer, and grayer, but aside from that he was same deceptively wise old man Amaleen introduced me to. He promised to take good care of her belongings, and to tuck them away until a new apprentice came to visit him. Then he would pass them on.

Among Amaleen's other lingering possession were two hand-knitted blankets that at some point Valar had claimed and dragged into Kylaryn's room in the dragon houses. Valar loved all the blankets Amaleen made, and so I gave one of them to him. Wrapped him up in it one morning while he slept. The other blanket I took with me when I visited Asgir so that I could place it for her in the area she'd always called the Library.

I spread the blanket out atop the largest boulder at the center of the Freedom sigil. It was the same boulder that I had first carved our names after we declared our love for each other. I placed a few small stones atop the blanket to hold it in place. The way, part of Amaleen would remain in her favorite place until time and weather took their toll and gradually wore the blanket away to nothingness.

When I said goodbye to Asgir for the last time, he wished me luck. It seemed a strange thing to do, but he was always a strange man in my mind. I thanked him for it nonetheless. I also thanked him for his odd guidance, and for making Amaleen the person she'd become. Then I was back in the air, on my way back to Sigil Stones.

In my mind, I still saw Amaleen standing on the shore below the waterfall, the day I told her I loved her.

I took the book Of Poetry from where I'd placed it in my temporary home, and gave it to Kylaryn. "I want you to have this," I said, reverently. "This is the most cherished possession I have left from her, and I would be honored if you would take it."

Kylaryn smiled and licked my nose, carefully taking the book. "Of course, Valyrym."

"That book is as much a symbol of the friendship that can blossom between dragon and human as anything else we have done," I said, lowering my gaze. My spines sagged against my head. "If this town should fall, that book is proof that we once held something greater in our paws, if only for a little while."

Smiling, Kylaryn placed it on her own shelf in a safe area. "Did you two ever finish it?"

I chuckled a little and shook my head. "No. We were perhaps halfway. You are welcome to add your own poems to it, if you wish."

"If I had a mind for poetry, Valyrym, I would be honored to do so." She smirked at me a little. "But I rather doubt my ramblings would look at home next to the things of beauty you two wrote in those pages."

"Clearly you've never read Burn, Burn, Burn," I said with a little laugh. Kylaryn laughed with me, but then I grew more serious. I gently cupped her chin in my paw. "When I am gone..."

"Valyrym..."

"When I am gone," I repeated, a little more forcefully. "You must lead them."

"Lead them?" Kylaryn sounded uncertain, and when she tried to pull her head back, I did not allow it.

"The other dragons. For as long as you continue to fight, you will lead them. You are the wisest dragon here, Kylaryn." I meant that sincerely. "You will know how best to continue the fight. And..." I hesitated, then forced myself to say it. "You will know when the battle is lost. And if that time comes, you must take Valar far, far from this place."

"But, Valyrym..."

"Kylaryn, if I succeed, they will look for ways to strike back at me." I turned my eyes to where Valar was playing in the road with Arynyra and some local children. It was a beautiful sight. If only it could have lasted forever. "They knew where to find Amaleen. They will know where to find my son. You keep him where you think it is safest. But if you decide this battle cannot be won, or you fear they are coming for him in the night, you take him from here. You take him wherever you must go. Whether it is to Korvarak's old home, or to stay with my parents if they yet live in this world." I gazed up at the sky, and slowly lowered my wings, ever so sorry to put them through this. "Or far enough from this place that humans can never again find him."

Kylaryn did not argue. She simply hung her head a little bit, her frilled ears drooping. "Alright, Valyrym."

"But until that day comes, and with luck it never will..." I gestured to the sky where Nary and Voskalar danced in the air. Korvarak was on the ground below, trying to work his own wing and keeping an close eye on his daughter. They were all visiting because they knew I would be leaving soon. "You will lead them. You are the oldest, the wisest, and now you are the most experienced."

Kylaryn smiled a little bit. She stretched her neck to rest her head against my shoulder. "I will truly miss you, Valyrym."

"As I shall miss you, Kylaryn," I said gently, stroking her leg. "Tomorrow I have a gift for Valar."

"A gift? What sort of gift?"

For what seemed like the first time in ages, I genuinely smiled. "I'm going to take him flying."

---

The next day dawned, and I woke Valar early. Perhaps the most painful part of leaving him behind was the knowledge that I was breaking my own oath. The oath I had once spoke to Amaleen when Valar was first injured. I would not be here to bear his burdens or carry him aloft or rise with the sun for him. In my own mind I had become a liability to my son, and yet I still hated myself for breaking that promise. Just as I hated myself for being so consumed with my need to avenge Amaleen. My need to make our enemies understand the suffering they had wrought.

But one more time I could carry Valar into the skies.

More than that, I would help him test his wings, and tell him what he must do if he was ever to fly himself.

I got Valar settled upon my back with Kylaryn's help, and carrying a basketful of smoked fish and other treats, I ascended to the sky. I rose above Sigil Stones in gradually widening spirals until we were beyond the stone walls that surrounded the city. Now more than ever, those walls bristled with heavily armed men ready to fight to the death to defend their homes. Ever since Amaleen's murder, the number of guards posted around the city had tripled at least. And for the first time since the war began some of those manning our walls and our own watch towers were now assigned to turn their gaze inward. To watch their own city day and night for signs of traitors and infiltration.

Such things troubled me, yet they would not be my worry much longer. Yet I could not help but wonder if Amaleen would still be alive if we had paid such careful attention earlier. Though, I knew well enough we could not have anticipated our own people being used against us. I was not sure if that was arrogance on our part, or if we were simply too naive to think our enemies would stoop to using captive families to turn our people traitor.

As I swooped over the hills, rising and falling with the lay of the land, Valar giggled happily against my back. Valar had always loved the way it made his belly feel when I ascended swiftly or dropped sharply. He clung to my scales and when I dove more steeply, he gave a gleeful cry. I rose again, pressing him to my back, then dropped swiftly until I felt him just beginning to lift from me. Then I smoothed my descent and rose once more. It was a game we'd invented ages ago, and we called it Riding the Hills.

...How I miss him. I hope he did not come to loathe me for leaving.

I settled down atop the crest of a hill that was both tall, and relatively free of stone spires. I didn't want them to be in the way, given what I had in mind. But first we had breakfast. Valar gleefully bounced around on the hill as I unpacked the smoked fish I'd fetched from the market. They had packed it in a dragon-sized basket which a weaver had made for me some years back. The fishmongers wrapped all the fish with some kind of parchment we could spread upon the grass to keep the fish from getting dirty. As if dragons worried about such things.

Valar soon flopped down across from me and together we ate our breakfast. I didn't enjoy the smoked fish quite as much as Valar though it did make a pleasant treat now and then. But today I feasted on it as if it was my favorite thing in the whole world. Valar laughed at me as I got glittering golden-bronze scales all over my face while devouring the first fish.

"Not supposed to eat the scaly parts," Valar said, shaking his head as if he just couldn't believe his father sometimes.

"And how are you supposed to avoid that?" I cocked my head at him.

"Like this," he said. He unsheathed a single claw, and slowly demonstrated his fish scaling technique. He scraped the scales from one side of his smoked fish, then the other, and then wiped his claw off on the grass. "See?" He held up the scaled fish by the tail, the meat looked clean and lightly tinted by the cooking smoke where the soft skin had come free. "Now you try!"

As Valar ate some of his own fish I did my best to try and replicate what he showed me. As soon as I tried to scrape the scales off the first fish I accidentally sliced the whole thing in half. "Oops..."

Valar stared at the halved fish, and then giggled. He put a paw to his face, shaking his head in disbelief. "I dunno about you sometimes, Father."

"It seems as though it takes a lot of practice." I smiled down at him despite myself.

"Lemme do it before you ruin all your fishies," Valar said. One by one, he deftly scaled each of the fish that made up my portion of the meal. As he placed them back in front of me, he gave a little sigh. "I dunno how your gonna make it without me when you're gone."

"Neither do I," I said. There was more truth to that than he would ever realize.

Valar stared at his paws a moment as though he'd forgotten I was leaving until just now. I did not want this to be a sad day for him, though. So smiling to myself, I quickly scooped up a pawful of greasy fish scales he'd left nearby, and dumped them all over his head. Valar yelped in surprise, then jumped to his feet, giggling. He shook himself, picked up a pawful of scales and threw them right at my face. One of them caught me right in the eye, and I yelped, holding my paw over my eye a moment.

"Ow! Time out! You win, I'm going blind!"

"That's what you get!" Valar said, turning himself in a circle as he laughed. "No one dares face Valaranyx, Master Of Fishies!"

I rubbed at my eye till I got the scale out. Then blinking heavily, I grinned down at him. "The Master Of Fishies had better eat his portion before his father does."

That got his attention, and he flopped down onto his belly to glare playfully up at me, guarding his hoard of de-scaled fish. "These are mine!"

Laughing to myself, I dug into the meal that Valar had prepared for me. I had to admit, he was right. The fish were definitely more enjoyable without all the scales getting stuck to my muzzle and wedged between my sharp teeth. Valar waited until he was sure I wasn't going to steal his fish, and then he ravenously ate his own breakfast as well. He paused only to tell me that in his opinion, fishies where the most important meal of the day.

For dessert I'd simply brought a few golden-spotted apples from the tree near the edge of town. The tree always came into bloom earlier than any other fruit tree in the area, and its fruit came to maturity so much faster. It allowed the tree to have several crops of apples in one year, something I'd be quite thankful for during my time in Sigil Stones. But this year the apples had come in earlier than ever, and the first crop was already falling from the tree. This year, the first crop somehow managed to taste sweeter than ever as though the whole tree had been nourished with sugar water. As Valar happily chomped down on his first apple, I held one in my paw, peering at its brilliant golden spots.

So many memories wrapped round so simple a thing.

"Amaleen always had the best apples," Valar said softly, looking up at me. Dribbles of apple juice ran down his nose. I smiled at him.

I smiled at him, nodding. "Yes," I replied. "She did."

Funny. Valar saw them as Amaleen's apples. She'd always brought them around, even after Valar was healed. Every Spring we spent with her, Amaleen brought us a basketful of the first crop as soon as they were ready. And every Autumn she brought another basketful of the last crop of the year. Sometimes when I'd been away at war I'd returned to find she'd already picked as many as she could. She'd set them out back to await the return of the dragons who fought for her town. Inevitably when that happened we would return to find that Valar had already helped himself to half the basket.

"You know, I once thought of these as Lenira's apples," I murmured, as much to myself as to Valar. "But you're right, Valar. These are definitely Amaleen's apples."

"Who's Lenira?" Valar cocked his head up at me. I was sure he'd heard the name a time or two but it was never a conversation I'd had with him.

"Lenira was Amaleen's mother," I said, simply enough. The answer was far more complicated than that of course. But that was the truth of it, in the end.

"Did you know her?" Valar finished his first apple and started in on another.

"Yes, Valar," I said, finally eating the first apple I'd been staring at. "She and I were very good friends."

"Did she die, too?" Valar licked some juice from one of his paws.

I smiled wistfully. "Yes, Valar. She did."

"Was it...bad?"

I shook my head. "No, My Love. It was a very peaceful end for her." That was more complicated as well, but Valar only needed to know that Lenira was happy in the end. "Lenira was happy when she passed."

"Then why?"

I finished off my apple, and peered down at my inquisitive son. So much was awakening in his mind lately. I did not envy Kylaryn the task of fielding answers to his increasingly in-depth questions. "Lenira lived a long life, Valar. In the end she simply grew too old for her body to keep living. She died in her sleep, because she was quite old."

Valar considered that, and then gave a little gasp of surprise. "Older than you?"

I laughed at his question. To a hatchling, I doubted anything could seem older than his parents. "No..." I started, then caught myself. Of course Lenira hadn't been older than me. I was...well...how old was I, now?

I realized I had no idea. For what I suspected was close to a century now, I had measured my life not by my own passing years, but by the lives of others. I'd counted my years by the span of time I knew Lenira before she passed. Later in life, I counted the seasons that passed since my son hatched. And I had measured myself by the years in which I had known love with Amaleen. Years cut far too short. I had been a young dragon when I first met Lenira. I was not so young anymore.

"In her own way," I finally said, running a paw back over some of my spiny frills. "Lenira was older than me in her own way."

"What's that mean?" Valar reached for a third apple when he thought I wasn't looking.

"Are you still hungry?" I said, making a show of catching him in the act. He yanked his paw back, but before he could tell me it was some other hatchling, I rolled the apple over against him anyway. "Go on then. Have all you want."

"Well I am a growing dragon," he explained as though it should be obvious. "What's older in her own way mean?"

Ah. In the years since Valar's injury, his body had grown and so had his mind. It was getting increasingly difficult to avoid answering his questions now. "It means they do not live as long as we do."

Valar paused with his teeth midway through the apple. After a moment, he finished his bite, crunched up the section of apple, and stared up at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my love..." I paused a moment, how to tell him. "That as dragons, we are both blessed and cursed. You see, if a dragon and a human are both allowed to live out their natural lives, the dragon will inevitably outlive the human. Humans simply age far faster than we do, and that means they die far earlier."

"Why?"

That was the question I knew was coming. I smiled a little, flexing my wings in a shrug. "That is a question for the Gods, if they exist. It seems a cruel joke to me. To give one species such a long life, and another such a short one. It seems to me things would be better if we were all even. But alas, though your mother may claim that I say otherwise, I am not the architect of the world. Nor did I have a paw in the nature of the things in it."

Valar turned the half eaten apple over in his paws a few times, staring at it as he twisted it around. A droplet of juice ran down his foreleg, scarcely noticed. "So...you knew Amaleen was gonna die?"

"Nothing can live forever, Valar," I said gently. It was nothing he didn't already know.

"Before you? You knew..."

"Are you asking if I knew Amaleen would die before me?" I cocked my head, and when Valar nodded slowly, I sighed to myself. "I knew it was likely, Valar. She and I had discussed it. In fact, when I first told her I loved her, she rebuked me." Valar gave me a blank look. "That means she turned me down, Valar."

"Oh!" Valar stared up at me, his jaw hanging open as if he couldn't believe Amaleen would have ever said no to me. It was strange to realize my young one knew absolutely nothing of the hatred Amaleen once held for me. All he knew of Amaleen and I was the love that had grown between us while he healed. That was the way I wanted it to stay. "But whyyy?"

"Because she did not want me to have to watch her grow old. Because she feared the pain I would feel when I watched her age, and die. Yet I told her I would gladly bear such pain if it meant I could share my life with her. And she accepted me then." I smiled to myself at the warm memory.

"So...you knew...that..."

"Not like this," I said, softly. I knew what Valar was trying to ask. Did I know I'd have less than a decade with Amaleen? "I thought I'd have her whole lifetime with her. The war changed all that."

Valar nodded glumly, and I reached out to gently stroke his head. He nuzzled at my paw a little bit. I smiled at him as I spoke. "When you find something that makes you happy in life, you snatch it. And someday, when you meet someone you find yourself loving, you tell them. You should always speak the truth, Valar, especially to those you love. When you find yourself loving another some day, let that love grow, and if they love you back, treat them with every ounce of goodness in you. You should always strive to be a better creature."

I wasn't sure Valar understood yet. But I think he would some day. He licked at my paw a little, then cocked his head. "Am I supposed to love humans? Or dragons?"

That was an interesting and somewhat unexpected question. His mother was a dragon, and in his early years, Valar probably grew up thinking I loved Kylaryn the same way I loved Amaleen. Then Amaleen came along, and he saw us together. I thought about it a little, and decided there was a very simple answer to that question.

"You are supposed to love whomever you love, Valar." I smiled down at him. "It matters not if that person is a dragon or a human, or anything else. If you and another are lucky enough to find love, than that is all that will ever matter."

I meant that in every possible way. I did not care if Valar came to love a dragon or a human, or even a damn Urd'thin. I did not care if he grew to love a female or a male, or something in between. If my son ever found love, then I wanted him to embrace and revel in it. If he learned nothing else from me in my shamefully short time with him, I hope he learned that.

"We are not like humans, Valar. In many ways we do not share their boundaries or their way of looking at the world. We are dragons. We have our own code, our own morals, and we see the world in a different light than they do." Though I was speaking of love and the way humans saw it, a few other things came to mind. "Humans in much of the world do not understand us. Because our ancestors took from them, hurt them, they think we are all..." I sighed. There was no other way to put it. "They see us as monsters in other parts of the world."

Valar's eyes widened at that. If Aran'alia fell, then Valar would come to know all too well what the rest of the world thought about dragons. I did not want him to face that reality. Yet if he must, then I wanted him to deal with it better than I had. There were so many lessons I wanted to reach him that I had learned through my own mistakes, and my own early years of claiming lands and taking what I pleased. I had far too little time.

I would suffice for telling him what I could while I had the chance. "Valar, you cannot let the views of the ignorant and cruel guide you. You must be better than them. In fact, you should always strive to better yourself, but not at the expense of others. Just because someone is weaker than you, that does not give you cause to take from them. If they need protecting...do not hesitate to help them. And when you love someone...it does not matter if someone else tells you that your love is wrong." I reached down and gently tapped his growing chest plates. "What you feel in your heart is the light that should guide you."

Valar peered up at me, his silver-flecked golden eyes shining and solemn. "I understand..."

I hoped he did. I lowered my head, and licked his cheek. "Good. Now. I did not bring you up here just to have a somber discussion that would darken our day. No, I brought you up here for something far better. I have a gift you for."

"Ooh! Where! Where!" Valar quickly jumped to his paws. His thoughtful, somber moment was swiftly forgotten as he began to bound to and fro, searching behind rocks and in the grass for any sign of a hidden gift.

"Come here, Valar." I waited for him to walk over before I smiled down at him. "This is a different kind of gift. Today I am going to take you flying. And before I take you home, you are going to ride the air upon your own wings."

Valar's eyes slowly went wide, and his blue marked muzzle dropped open. Glee spread across his face, though a fearful look quickly shadowed it. He glanced back at his awkwardly settled wing, uncertain. I gently licked his neck.

"Do not worry about that. Believe that your wings can carry you, and make them do so." I cautioned him a little. "You are not yet old enough to truly fly, but your wings have grown enough to hold your weight for a little while. I shall help you. Now, spread your wings best you can."

Valar, looking nervous, did just that. One of his young wings stretched out just fine. The other he was only able to spread about three quarters of the way before he winced, and could stretch it no further. While my son stood displaying his wings, I slowly paced around him, looking him over from head to toe.

He had grown quite a bit in the years since I'd first brought him to Sigil Stones. Scars from the three grievous wounds he'd suffered still marked his body, but they had faded from gruesome pink bulges to lighter pink splotches across his scales. In time, they would continue to fade. Now and then Valar still walked with a little bit of a limp, but it did not impede him from bounding and sprinting as fast as any other young dragon could. When the weather turned sometimes his body ached. And he still couldn't stretch his wing properly, but perhaps he wouldn't have to.

"Your mother must be pleased with your coloration," I said to him, grinning.

The blue colors that marked him had actually grown over the last few years. The marking at the end of his snout had crept along his muzzle even as the length of his snout grew. The blue that edged his wings has also stealthily spread deeper and deeper into his wings. And one of his blue socks, to steal a human term, now ran almost the entire way up his leg. The nubs that marked future spines at the end of his tail were slightly more pronounced as were the little horns and spikes crowning his head.

"You've grown to be a very handsome youngling, Valyrym." I smirked at him. "When you're older, you shall have to go and visit your elders...my parents...and see if they know where any attractive young females are living. Or perhaps just send your mother to fetch you a few of them."

Valaranyx giggled at that, though I didn't think he really knew what I was talking about. "Arynyra's a female."

"Yes, but she's your cousin. Just make sure your mother has a talk with you about that."

"Okay," he chirped, looking back at his wings. He waggled the one that wouldn't stretch as far as it should, sighing. "It's not gonna work is it."

"We shall see about that," I said with a snort. I moved to his side, and gently took his wing tip in my grasp. I felt over the vestigial spine that tipped it. "Can you wiggle this?"

Valaranyx grunted in effort, then shook his head glumly. "No."

"That's alright," I assured him. "You don't need that anyway."

Valar grinned up at me. I tugged his wing just a little, and he winced, shying away from my touch. "Ow..."

I grit my teeth, and spoke firmly. "Valar. I'm going to try and stretch your wing out for you. I will not do any damage that has not already been done, but I think it is going to be quite painful. If you do not want me to stretch it out, just tell me right now. But if you are willing to bear the pain, I want to see if you can keep your wing stretched."

Valar's eyes went wide. I expected him to say no for a moment, and that would be that. I would take him flying beneath me, let him feel the air under his own wings, and that might be the extent to which he'd ever fly. I think he must have known the same thing, because he told me yes. He steadied himself, grit his teeth, and closed his eyes.

"Stretch it," he said softly.

"Alright. If you need me to stop just say so."

Valar nodded again. I held his wing, and slowly began to pull it out. There was more resistance there than I expected, probably because of the way it had healed. The tendon itself wouldn't grow back, but I hoped that wouldn't stop him from at least beating his wings enough to ascend some day. He would never be a good flyer, but even clumsy, ungainly flight was still flight. He whined as I pulled at his wing, and for a moment I hesitated when I felt the resistance. But, gritting my own teeth, I pulled harder.

Valar cried out as his wing began to stretch towards its natural extent, and tears squeezed out from between his clenched eyes. But he did not tell me to stop, and so I did not. I pulled my son's wing out and away from his body, until I had pulled it as far as it should naturally be able to go. By that point Valar was trembling and crying under his breath. The pain he must be in made me cringe, and yet the fact he did not ask me to stop made my heart soar.

"I'm going to let go now. Try and keep your wing extended as long as you can."

I released Valar's wing, and for several long seconds he managed to keep it stretched. His body shook even harder with the new exertion, and I could see the little muscles along his back straining beneath the scales. It was a new action for him, and those muscles were not used to being used in such a way. A young dragon naturally had to build up the strength and endurance of those muscles before he could fly well. If my son was ever to fly, he would also have to build up his tolerance to the pain flight would bring him.

When Valar could keep his wing stretched no more, it began to retract. His muscles twitched and he cried out as his back cramped up. "Alright, Valar, that's enough. Relax, My Love, relax."

Valar sank to his belly, all four limbs splayed and stretched out. He panted heavily, whimpering in pain. He left his good wing sprawled on the grass but his injured one began to retract to the usual half-furled position on its own. I quickly rubbed his back with a paw to try and help ease his pain.

"That was excellent, my son, excellent!" I could not help but let the pride shine through in my voice, as well as the excitement. "You can do it, Valar. I'm sure of it now."

Perhaps it was only false hope. Maybe I just wanted to convince myself that some day he'd be able to understand the true joy of flight. Before I left him behind, I wanted to think he'd have a good life. I wanted him to think he'd have a good life. I swore I'd not let his injury poison his mind, and though I may have broken my other oaths to him, at least I gave him hope. Hope that he had the strength within himself to find a way to fly.

Everyone needs something to hope for.

"It will be hard, Valar," I told him as I caressed his burning muscles. "It will likely be painful at first." It would be painful always, but that was more than he needed to know just then. "But we have proven your wing can still stretch, and you can still hold it there. You'll have to practice and work it until you can stretch it yourself. And then we..." I caught myself. I almost said "we" would teach him how to work his wings in flight. "Your mother...will teach you how to fly."

Valar lifted his head and beamed at me. I had not seen him look so delightfully happy in what seemed like ages. Perhaps it was only my own inescapable sorrow in the months since Amaleen was murdered that kept me from seeing the joy written upon my son's face. But it was there now, bright as the rising sun, and it made me feel good inside for a little while longer.

I spent the rest of the day carrying him into the skies. I held him beneath my belly, and let him stretch his wings as far as he could to feel the air rushing beneath them. To feel like he was flying. And when he was ready, I let him fly.

I flew him low over the soft grass, and when he had the wind beneath his wings, I let him go. Though even without injury his wings were not yet strong enough to lift him aloft, they had grown large enough to support his weight a little while. To allow him to glide and feel the air itself hold him aloft.

He was nervous the first time, but weren't we all. At first I only let him go about a foot above the ground, flying as slowly as I dared. Should he have crashed he'd have done little more than topple head over tail a few times and bounce back up laughing. That was actually what happened to me the first time my father took me gliding. But Valar, as I should have expected, did so much better than me.

As soon as I released him, he glided upon his own wings for a good distance. I spun around to watch my son soar through the air, and the sight brought joyful tears to my eyes. He might only have been gliding, but in his mind he was flying. The joy of it glowed in his eyes and on his face, and he had never looked so happy. The sun shone upon him and he glittered like obsidian and sapphire. As he slowly sunk to the grass, he extended his paws and gracefully touched down as though he'd been gliding his entire life.

When he came to a stop, he burst out laughing and jumping and running in a circle. Filled at last with the pure joy of flight. One day, I knew he would take himself to the skies. I ran to him and scooped him up in my paws. I hugged him to my chest and laughed along with him. My own heart flew right alongside his.

"You will fly," I told him. "I promise you Valar, one day you will rise with the sun itself on your own wings!" If it turned out to be a falsehood, at least he had that moment of joy, that moment of hope. At least I gave him that.

That was my gift to him that day. My final gift to my son.

Hope.

---

Chapter Fourteen

Kylaryn knew I would be leaving the next morning. I had done what I could to keep her apprised of my plans. So she knew that when I took Valar flying, I had put all my matters to rest. I had given him hope that some day he would be able to rise upon his own wings. Kylaryn hugged me and held me tightly as Valar happily told her all about his day. Kylaryn smiled and laughed with him as Valar told her how he'd "flown" when I let him go. She winced with him as he explained how I'd stretched his wing to test it, and she smiled with pride when he promised to be strong when she did the same to help him strengthen it.

The three of us fetched dinner from the market, and took it back to the hills. Valar played in the grass and jumped in the air and climbed all over us. For one more evening, it was just like old times again. We ate a whole variety of human foods while we watched the sun set. I let Valar eat an entire meal of dessert. He got cakes and sweetened rolls and pastries and things filled with cream and covered in icing. I wrestled with him, I let him ride on my back, and Kylaryn and I took turns flying him into the skies and letting him glide back to the earth.

It was a beautiful final night with my family.

When Valar was worn out we took him back to my old home. It was then that I said all my farewells to the other dragons. I hugged them all and they cried a little. I held my niece for the last time. She was already growing into a beautiful little hatchling. I spoke in private for a time to my sister.

"I have become so immensely proud of you, Narymiryn," I told her, holding her tight to me while she cried softly. "Prouder than you can know. You have lived a great life, and you are raising a beautiful daughter. You have helped forge a friendship between humans and our people the likes of which this world may have never known. You have done wonderful, wonderful things, Nary, and I could not be prouder to be your brother."

Narymiryn smiled and held me back, whispering into my ear through her tears. "You don't have to do this, Valyrym."

"Yes," I said, licking her ear. "I do."

At the time, Blood for Blood was all I could think of. If I had stayed, I think it would have driven me mad.

I told Korvarak how proud I was of him as well, and how happy I was to call him friend. I also said I was sure he would fly again someday. I took Voskalar aside to tell him he was a fine young dragon, who was as brave as any beast I had ever seen. I hugged Arynyra and told her she was a beautiful little Nose-Biter. Then I left them all behind to spend my last night with Kylaryn, making time only for a stop in Sigil Stones to put Valar to bed.

Kylaryn and I flew to our hill. Even in my years with Amaleen, I still considered the hill where Valar was conceived to belong to Kylaryn and me. I could have found it with my eyes closed, if I wished. Yet I wanted to soak it in. I let Kylaryn fly ahead of me just as she had the night I'd pressed myself to her in the silver rain. There was no rain tonight, but the sky was clear and the moon bathed the green grass in mercurial color just the same. The moonlight coated everything in a layer of shining silver, and caused Kylaryn's eyes to glow as I had never seen them.

We settled atop our hill, and sat leaning against each other, our necks gently entwined. After a time of gentle silence, I finally said, "You were so beautiful that night. You were like a sapphire spirit, come to visit me in a time of loneliness and uncertainty."

Kylaryn smiled and licked my neck. I nuzzled her. There were no more apologies for the ways we had treated one another, or pleas for forgiveness. All was forgiven, and all was understood. It was simply the two of us. Friends who had finally come to truly understand each other after a lifetime of squabbles and rivalries. It was only a decade too late.

"If you live, Valyrym," Kylaryn said softly. Her meaning was as clear as the silver in her eyes. "Come back to me some day."

"And if you are no longer here?" I nudged her chin with my muzzle.

Kylaryn pressed her nose to mine, curling her tail over my own. "Find me. Find your son."

"Very well, Kylaryn," I said, smiling. "I promise I shall find you, if I should live."

How was I to know that I would live, yet find myself unable to fulfill that promise?

I nuzzled her throat a little, my black nostrils flaring slightly. "Your scent is changing the last few days."

"Yes," Kylaryn admitted. "I shall be receptive soon." She smirked playfully at me. "Perhaps I shall have to see what sort of youngling Voskalar can create."

"Voskalar is a youngling," I said, laughing to myself. "I rather doubt he could even find the right entrance even if you drew him a map on the underside of your tail."

Kylaryn laughed with me. Then she lay her muzzle against mine. She licked my nose, and soon her tongue was trailing across my muzzle. I licked her in return, our touches brushing and touching. Soon she parted her lips and I pressed my snout to hers, my head twisted to the side. I kissed her deeply, and passionately. As I stirred and rose from my sheath, she eased herself to the ground, and pulled me against her.

I did not resist.

Under the moonlight, I mated Kylaryn for the last time.

Whether my seed took hold inside her or not I imagine I will never know. If it did, I hope that child did not grow to despise me for my absence. When we were spent, we lay together, cuddling and speaking softly. We talked of our childhood, mostly, and of the better times we'd shared.

We mentioned nothing about the war. I knew Kylaryn would continue the fight for Aran'alia. This place was her home now and she cared for it as much as I. I hoped that by some miracle she would not be forced to abandon it in order to keep Valar safe.

When at least the time came, we returned to Sigil Stones to try and get a little sleep. It did not come for either of us. We lay around Valar as he slumbered in the peaceful way of hatchlings, and talked a little while longer in hushed voices. I took some parchment, and I wrote Valar a letter. I was good at scribing things on parchment by then. Kylaryn didn't even tease me about my dainty paws. When I had written down all I wished to say, I gave the letter to Kylaryn and had her stash it away.

"Give it to him when he's grown," I said, looking down at Valar as he slumbered. "I should hope he will choose to read it, and understand why I'm not there for him any more. But if he chooses to tear it up or bathe it in his fire I shall not be surprised. I should surely have deserved it."

Kylaryn put her paw on mine. "He will read it, Valyrym. Even if I have to hold him down and read it to him."

I smiled a little at that, and curled around my son, and against his mother for the very last time. I slept not a moment. When the sun rose, I rose with it. I hugged my son against myself. As he cried and clung to me, I told him that I was never in all my life more proud of something than I was of him. And I told him that I would always, always, always love him.

Then I left him behind. Looking back, in this moment, there is nothing I am more ashamed of than that.

As I ascended, Kylaryn called out the last words I'd ever hear her say. "Please Valyrym! Don't die!"

Please Valyrym, don't die.

Those words carried far more weight to me than she ever realized.

---

As I rose to the skies, my heart was so heavy it nearly weighed me right back down. But I forced myself to beat my wings. I forced myself to leave Sigil Stones and my family behind. I had a duty to myself and to Amaleen's memory that I could not ignore. In the months since Amaleen was slain, her death had consumed me far more than I ever let on. It began as an ember in my heart and had grown into a fire that burned away all that I was and left only vengeance in its wake.

Illandra had long thought me a monster, and with Amaleen's death a monster I became.

I flew to my road, and began to follow it. It twisted and turned like a dry riverbed that cut through the land. I flew swiftly. I had no idea how long this journey would take, or even if I would succeed. But I had long since given into my dark desire to shed blood in Amaleen's name. In some sick, twisted way part of me felt good to have finally given into Blood for Blood.

Illandra would know the righteous fury of a dragon who suffered the grief of a murdered love.

My wings carried me quite swiftly down my road. I allowed myself a little smile. Korvarak would have his chance to claim that road for himself, after all. It seemed no time at all had passed before I was soaring above our furthest defensive fortifications. The land here was scarred, and ugly. Years of warfare had ruined the Aran'lian countryside. The boots of thousands of men had trampled the verdant grasses and wildflowers into dust, and rivers of spilled blood had turned that dust into a wretched, coppery-stinking mire. War was ruining Aran'alia long before the outcome was decided.

Soon enough I was soaring above Illandran camps and fortresses and captured villages. I flew high enough to ensure nothing they could shoot at me could ever reach me. I had absolutely no intention of putting myself in danger until I had found my target. If I lost my life while claiming my revenge I would still consider my last act a success. But until then I would take no unnecessary chances.

Within a few weeks I had crossed the river that marked the old border with the land once called Vurnel. I was further east than I had ever flown, and still I flew deeper into the country. Here and there I spotted cities in the distance that dwarfed anything I had ever seen before. I stayed far away from those. That was exactly the sort of place that would prove unconquerable even for a dragon. Yet I knew their king would dwell in such a place. It mattered little. I had a plan for that.

I wondered how long ago Illandra had conquered this land. I still called it Vurnel in my head. It had its own sort of beauty. For the most part the land seemed much flatter than I was used to. There were acres and acres of farmland filled to the brim with sheep that tasted just as delicious as they looked. From the sky all the farmland was divided between emerald green pastures, neat rows of crops, and brown swaths of dirt. The wooden fences that ran between each piece of land made the whole area look like some massive oversized game board. Though the land was flatter then Aran'alia, in the distance I did see some towering red mountains. Perhaps not as rugged as those in deep Aran'alia, but the rusty red coloration of the stone was exotic and beautiful in its own way. Yet I had no mind for sight seeing.

I enacted the first part of my plan when I spotted a small military outpost atop a hill. This place was far from the war. Though they might have heard rumors of the horrors that the Dread Sky had inflicted on their men, surely none of them ever thought such horror would find them in their own lands. Imagine their surprise when I swooped down in the middle of the darkness and burned them in their beds. I knocked the lone watchtower down onto the nearby barracks, and then lit the whole damn thing on fire.

From my observations I had spotted the smaller building that seemed to serve as a quarters for their outpost's commander. As soon as he came running out of that building I snatched him up, and carried him into the sky. He screamed the whole way up. I told him, in his own tongue, that I had a simple question. If he answered it I would let him live. If he did not, I would let him fall. Then I asked him when his king would next venture into the countryside, away from his city and his castle. When the man did not know, I released him.

He screamed all the way back down.

So began my reign of terror on the softest spots of Illandra's army. I sought out every isolated outpost, every solitary patrol of guards, every lightly guarded convoy that I could find. Each time I selected a man or sometimes two, whoever seemed most likely to have the knowledge I sought. By then I was completely lost to my need for revenge. When I buried Amaleen, I may as well have buried all my kindness and goodness with her. In my mind, every man I slew was personally responsible for Amaleen's death. Some of them gave me information. Others did not. In the end, it made little difference to their fate.

I was not kind. I was not merciful. None of them lived, no matter what they told me.

Gradually, the horrible things that I did to the Illandrans began to give me the pieces I needed to puzzle out a chance to attack their king. Yet it took me months, at the least. In truth I scarcely kept track of the time I spent seeking him out. At night I curled up alone, in whatever shelter I could find. Sometimes I slept beneath the stars, in the cold rain or the biting wind. It mattered little to me anymore.

Most nights when I lay curled, I thought of my son. I wondered if he was angry with me. If he was hurt. If he'd forgive me. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever get to see him again but I dared not tease myself with the possibility. I did not expect to live through my confrontation with their king. Yet that did not stop me from thinking of Valar every single night.

Of course Valar was not the only one to make his way into my thoughts. I thought of nights spent curled against Kylaryn's warmth. Of fights we suffered and laughter we shared. Of the night I pressed myself to her in the curtains of silver rain, when Valar was first created. I thought all the way back to the days in our clan we wrestled in the mud and ran together through the forest laughing and arguing. What a strange pair we were. Through all our youth, the longest time we ever spent without competition and argument were the months she spent stuck in her home while her wing healed. Those had been happy times for me. Yet in the wasted way of youth I was simply too inexperienced to realize how wonderful that peaceful friendship was.

When slumber finally found me, I always dreamt of Amaleen. I did not always wish to. As delightful as some of those dreams were, inevitably I had to wake and realize once more that Amaleen was gone. Some nights when I dreamt of her I awoke and it was still dark out. After such a dream I could not get back to sleep, and I turned my eyes to the sky. If it was clear I counted the stars until the sun rose, remembering those simple nights when Amaleen and I had lain together to do the same.

The dreams kept my mind fixed upon my task. Whenever my resolve to carry this through wavered, Amaleen inevitably visited my dreams. She always called out my name. Sometimes it was in joyful reverie when I flew her to the clouds.

Valyrym! This is so beautiful!

Sometimes I heard her screaming in fear, and pain. As she burned.

Valyrym! Help me! Gods, please Valyrym, help me!

Sometimes I saw her. Other times it was just her voice. Some nights, I simply found her beautiful blue eyes haunting me as though she were watching me from the darkness beyond life, and only her eyes shone through to the world of the living. I hoped she would not be saddened by what I was doing. At least I knew she wouldn't judge me for it.

Whether I drowsily opened my eyes and expected to find her laying against me, or woke myself with my own screams, it was always the same. Every morning I knew she was gone, and every morning I gave myself in to the old ways of vengeance once more.

By the time I had tortured my way up the chain of command and found someone who actually knew how I could track their king down, there was little left of me Amaleen would have recognized. I had no mercy in my heart for the men who had murdered her. At first the screams they gave when they refused to talk haunted my dreams alongside my lost love. But by the time my journey was nearly finished, I barely noticed the sounds they made.

Amaleen's death had buried the heart that once shone so brightly beneath countless layers of pain and anger. It brought out the very worse parts of me, and in the months I spent searching Illandra and all its conquered provinces I gave in completely to those parts. Where once there was poetry in my heart, now there was only blood. Blood and anger that I could not escape. That same blood stained my paws a more terrible hue every passing day. There was no one left to wash the stains from my paws or cleanse my heart of the filth that surrounded it.

Should I have both survived and escaped, I think I would have been too ashamed of what I had become to ever return home.

It mattered little in the end.

I lost track of the months. The seasons. Till at last I came to learn that several times a year, the King of Illandra took his Queen and made forays out into the far countryside. He liked to visit the various lands that his army had conquered in previous years. He fancied himself a conquering hero to the people of Illandra, laying claim to the lands around them in order to boost the wealth and standing of his own country. His advisers kept him from fighting on the front lines himself, but they could not stop him from visiting troops stationed afar to boost morale. For a time I thought about attacking him there, but I knew he would be far too well defended. Instead, when I had enough information to complete my plan, I decided to strike at him while he was visiting an idyllic section of countryside.

I don't know what country it used to be, and it mattered not. What mattered was that it was in the middle of nowhere, where no army could reach him without passing through legions of Illandra soldiers. As far as they knew, there were no threats on his life that could credibly pass through their armies and get through his personal contingent of highly trailed royal guards. He was as safe as could be in the countryside, and after all how could any of Illandra's enemies know where he was, let alone reach him?

Of course they had no idea that a dragon was coming for him. As I had told no one the truth of my mission, there was no one for Illandra to wrench the information. All the men I'd questioned I had also slain, and I had only asked my questions long after I'd taken them away from their fellows. Most of whom I had also slain. For all they knew, I was simply randomly attacking their military outposts. There was no pattern to follow, nothing to indicate I was actively stalking their king.

The spot I chose for my attack was far, far away from any of the places I'd already hit. I waited until just the right moment. Until he was deep in the countryside. Until there was no one around for miles and miles aside from the king's admittedly large contingent. And even when I found the right place to strike, I waited a little longer. Long enough for the sun to settle below the horizon, so that darkness would cover my approach.

The king had chosen a beautiful meadow to spend the evening in. A skein of stars stretched across the sky far above, and a blanket of beautiful blue wildflowers stretched in all directions around him. In the distance there were low, gently rolling hills. Their pine-forested slopes held an almost purple hue in the dim light of falling dusk. Campfires stretched around the encampment and cast a gentle orange glow on the many carriages, wagons, horses, and tents that had sprung up all around the meadow. The fire light stretched just far enough to flicker and glint on the edges of the brook that burbled nearby.

I had spied on them a few times. Only briefly. I dared not let them catch even the quickest glimpse of me or they would toss the royals in the sturdiest, most fire-resistant conveyance they had and ring them with so much steel and poisoned arrows I might never get a shot. But from a very, very high altitude I gazed down at them as they traveled, just to ensure the royals were there. If I had taken a better look, things might have turned out differently. But I had seen just enough to know that the King and Queen were there, and that was all the knowledge I needed.

When darkness fell, I whispered a goodbye to everyone I'd ever cared about. I had already said farewell to everyone who yet lived, but I said them one last time for my own peace of mind. I uttered a prayer to anyone who would listen to forgive me for what I was about to do. I also whispered my last words to Valar, Kylaryn, and Amaleen and begged the three of them to forgive me as well.

Then I rose from my hiding spot in the hills, and took to my wings. I beat them swift, and hard, and then I held them stretched and still as I glided across the trees. I was a shadow hurtling towards the king and in the darkness, I could hardly be seen. As I drew near the camp, all the details came into focus. My heart thudded like a flame-wreathed hammer, and a clawed fist clenched itself around my knotted stomach.

By the time I swept over the camp and roared my furious vengeance, I was close enough to see every little detail. I saw the laughter etched on one man's face twist into horror at the sound of my roar, his terrified features glowing in the fire light. Another man pitched backwards off the tree stump on which he sat. Others sprang to their feet and ran towards the king. The king himself had been seated at a large red wooden table they'd assembled, eating a bit of cake on a silver platter while talking with the queen.

The moment I roared his guards sprang into action. Their only priority was to protect the king with their lives. That was fine with me. Wearing thick, plated armor they surrounded him like a steel wall even as they snatched his arms and ran him away from the table. They had an armored war-wagon there that served as a portable fortress for the king. Even as they drew him towards it, elite archers took up positions all around it. Men ran for weapons, called for steel, and cried out to save the king.

There was a moment when I first swept in over the camp in which I could have bathed the king and all his bodyguards in fire that would have burned them to the bone. I doubt it would have ended the war. But there was a moment there, when I could have slain the king himself in the name of Aran'alia. Yet I swept over his head without ever breathing a single flicker of flame.

The King was not my target.

It was not a military mission that brought me here. I was not a soldier fighting for Aran'alia. I had not torn the king's whereabouts from his men with claws and teeth and fire because I wished to strike down the leadership of an enemy nation. No. I was here because I sought to make him understand the suffering he had brought about in others. I was here because it was his word and his deed that lead to Amaleen's death. I was here to take from him as he had taken from me. I was a dragon guided by Blood for Blood.

I was here for his wife.

I roared to announce my presence because I knew it would snap them into action to protect their king. And in so doing, it would leave their Queen vulnerable. She too had a contingent of guards but they would not be enough to save her life. They assumed that I had come for their king, and that was just what I wanted. While most of the royal guard was busy locking the king inside his iron-clad safe house, the others were dragging the queen back to the royals' personal carriage.

It was an elaborate thing, slathered with blue paint and images of their gods-be-damned five towered keep. I imagined it must have been quite luxurious inside. A thing of soft cushions and softer beds, an elegant home on wheels for the royals to lounge about in while they surveyed their conquest. It had thick walls designed to protect against arrows, and yet those walls were made of wood.

And wood burned so well.

As Amaleen had burned, so too would the Queen.

I wheeled away from the king and towards the queen just in time to see the faint blue color of her dress vanish inside the carriage. For a moment, I thought of Amaleen in such a dress. The thought only made me angrier. The carriage door slammed shut, locked tightly as if that would save her. Her guards were quickly taking up positions around her carriage though the attention of most of them remained squarely on protecting the king. I almost pitied the Queen. It seemed even she was expendable to Illandra.

Already arrows were flying at me through the skies. Some of them stuck. In the back of my mind, I thought perhaps I should have worn my armor. And yet I think part of me was hoping to die that night when my vengeance was complete. I simply could not take being haunted by Amaleen's memory any longer. Too late the royal guard realized that I was not chasing down the king, but instead swooping down towards the carriage that held his wife.

Behind me a man screamed. I hoped it was the king. I hoped he was watching when I dropped from the sky, spread my wings like black vengeance itself and bathed that carriage in fire. I flamed the entire length of the carriage as I hurtled past it. Then I whirled low in the sky and spun back around. This time I flew along the other side of the carriage and hit it with fire again. I hit the walls and the windows and the doors to make sure there was no way she could escape.

I heard her scream. Trapped in that burning carriage, she screamed, and in my mind it sounded like Amaleen. That was how she screamed in my nightmares. I spun once more and hit the cursed thing with all the fire I had left. More arrows hit me but I scarcely felt the pain. She screamed again, and though her scream tore at me I knew it would tear at her husband all the worse. He would know my pain. He would share my nightmares.

Blood for Blood you greedy old bastard.

For a moment, I reveled in my vengeance.

The woman screamed again. Soon her guards were trying to break her free. I expected that, just as I expected that none of them would be able to push through the wall of fire I'd created all around her carriage. That was fine. Let the king watch them struggle in vain to save her life. If the old bastard came out of his own shelter, perhaps I would slay him, as well. Yet his guards would not let him leave it, they had locked him in for his own protection. So be it. I was prepared to die here, and leave the king a widower who would suffer for the rest of his days as I had suffered.

...What I was not prepared for was the scream of a child.

What I had not expected...what I didn't know...was that the king had a son. A young son who had been fast asleep inside the carriage when I attacked. It was not the guards who rushed the queen away from me, or away from the king. No, it was the queen who rushed to her son, who was trapped in the carriage. I...I did not want...I did not know...

There was a young boy in that carriage, and he burned to death alongside his mother.

I did not want that.

If I had acted swifter...perhaps I could have saved him. When I first heard him scream, it hit me like a hammer to the belly. There was a child in that carriage, and my desire for vengeance had ended his short life before it even began. For a moment...a terrible moment...I hesitated. Was I not here to make this king suffer? What more could I do to ruin his life than take his wife and son?

Yet no sooner had I thought that than I thought of Valar, and I could not imagine the cruelty that would so callously waste such a young, innocent life. And in that moment all the horrible, monstrous armor I had wrapped myself in melted away, and I was nothing more than a father thinking of his own son. I was here for vengeance but I was not a murderer of children, I was not!

...And yet that was what I became.

I tried to save him, but it was too late. I dropped from the sky like a meteor cast to the earth, and all the way down I heard that boy screaming. I ran to the carriage and tried to tear the door out, to tear the walls down. But the pain and the heat forced me back. I'd have melted my limbs off if I could but save that child. Perhaps if I hadn't hesitated. If I landed the moment I heard that horrible scream, I might have had time to smash the carriage apart, give him a way to escape.

But it was too late. The screams had all stopped.

I stood next to the carriage, stunned by my own monstrous cruelty. The carriage was a pyre now, and I had become everything the rumors spoke of. Waves of heat washed across me, my golden eyes must have shone with a hellish, flaming hue. I was every bit the monster they thought I was.

For years I had come in the night, slaying their soldiers, burning them in their beds. I had led my kin in wreaking havoc upon their army, and each time I roared and put name to my deeds as I left. They had come to fear The Dread Sky, and for years the rumors of my deeds were far worse than anything I'd actually done. Now, The Dread Sky was truly a monster.

And that monster stood in their midst.

It took only another moment or two for the legion of royal guard to descend upon me. For a moment, the idea flashed in my mind that with my vengeance complete, I could fly home. I could return to Kylaryn and Valar and put all this behind me. And yet even then I knew I could never outlive this guilt. I could never return to my son. I could not look him in the eyes, knowing I had slain a child even younger than him. I would carry this sin for all of my life.

I wanted them to end me.

So I stood there, as they ran at me, and at first I did not seek to protect myself. Someone drove a spear into my hind leg, all the way through the meat of it. The agony was worse than anything I can remember. The spear scraped bone and deflected off it to continue tearing through my thigh. Thought I thought I deserved death and did not wish to fight back, the pain ignited my instincts.

I whirled on the man who had nearly crippled my leg, and I tore him apart. The spear remained stuck in my thigh, and someone else snatched at it, dragging it through my leg and tearing my muscles apart. I screamed again as blood gushed and ran down my hind leg. Still I fought. Despite my desire to die then and there, some twisted part of myself sneered with pride. Was that all they had? Some spear in the leg? It would take so much more then that to slay The Dread Sky.

In the end, they brought me down, but I slew many more of their men in the process. Someone put arrows in my wing joints to ensure I could not flee to the skies. As if I would ever flee now. Someone put a sword between my ribs, but damn him, he could not get it deep enough to end me. Death did not come swiftly or easily to a dragon. That was fine with me, I did not deserve a swift death.

With my hind leg nearly ruined, I could scarcely walk let alone maneuver in battle. Eventually my leg simply gave out, and I collapsed to my belly, near the burning wreckage of the carriage. When I fell, they set to beating me. They hit me and cut me and stabbed me and tried to batter me to death. The pain was very nearly enough to send me spiraling into unconsciousness. I could hardly breath, choking on smoke, blood, and agony.

As my vision dimmed, I saw an immense man striding towards me with an equally immense war hammer held in both his hands. It looked to have the heft necessary to crush even a dragon's skull. So be it, then. As he neared me, he hoisted the thing up over his head, and hesitated.

I hissed bile at him. "End me, if you can!"

I closed my eyes and pictured what I expected to be my final thought. I thought of Amaleen, in a white dress, with a blue flower. She was holding Valar to her chest, spinning and laughing atop a green hill. Kylaryn smiled at them from a distance. It was a beautiful image. I wonder if the soldiers saw me smiling. They must have thought me mad.

I waited, but death did not come. He never swung the hammer. Someone called for him to stop. I did not know why, yet at the time I still thought I would die soon. When he did not slay me, the rest of the men returned to abusing me, apparently satisfied to beat me into unconsciousness. Darkness did come to me, but not before they had wrung more screams from my increasingly ragged throat.

Just before I plunged beneath the waters of murky shadow, I saw their king. He was on his knees near the burning carriage, weeping. For one last terrible moment, I was satisfied.

Now he understood.

And then darkness took me, and my freedom came to an end.

---

Chapter Fifteen

They dragged me behind their horses. For weeks at least, months perhaps. I was not often truly awake during the journey. Even when I woke, I was in too much pain to take much note of my surroundings. My leg hurt every moment of every day. Sometimes the pain even made it into my dreams. They had chained my front paws together, and my hind paws as well. They had bound my wings to my body, and strapped my jaws shut. They'd patched my leg up only enough to ensure it did not take infection. They wanted me to live, and that frightened me. I had taken my revenge, and it had brought me only ruin. Now it seemed it would bring me torture, as well.

For the first few days, they did not feed me or give me water. Only when they could not properly rouse me did they seem to realize that while I was certainly a monster, even monsters required water to survive. With a sponge they forced some down my throat. Later, when I was more fully conscious they tried to get me to drink some more. Instead I bit off someone's hand. They tortured me a while after that.

I doubt I could have walked even if they allowed it. It was not long before being dragged behind a team of horses had scraped the scales from my skin in bloodied, raw patches. If dragons were not as sturdy as we are I likely would taken some great infection from that and died from along the way. It would have been easier. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. Even while I was dragged they kept me drugged most of the time. They pressed cloth to my nostrils and poured some kind of liquid over it, forcing me to breath the fumes until I was either unconscious or nearly so.

I had not seen the king since the night I attacked. I did not even know if he was traveling with the same convoy that dragged me across the land. In time we met another group that had been sent for me. This group was made up of men who made a living slaying dragons. I suspected they also made a living capturing dragons alive for purposes I tried not to think about.

It was those men who took my fire from me.

When I was given over to those men, I was forced up onto some kind of transport wagon. It held a large, flat stone block on its center and I was made to lay with my chest and belly against the. It was cold and hard, very uncomfortable, yet in its own way it was better than being dragged. At least I did not leave a trail of blood and scales across the ground behind me anymore. The wheeled platform on which the stone block sat had heavy shackles built into it. They chained all four of my paws to the platform, on either side of the stone block. My head was pulled down to the front of the platform, and chained there just the same.

"This is for the Queen," a man snarled into my ear, flashing a thin bladed dagger in front of my eyes. Fear crushed my heart in its cold grasp, and I clenched my jaw and squeezed my eyes shut. I was sure he was going to cut my throat. After all they seemed to have prepared me to be butchered at whatever horrible place they took dragons to cut them apart and make them into armor.

Instead, he plunged the blade just beneath my jaw line, near where my lower jaw met my neck. He sunk it deeply, all the way into the fire gland buried within the left side of my neck. This man knew just where to find them, and when he stuck his blade into that gland, he made sure to twist it as well.

The pain was...I have no words for it. I screamed and screamed and screamed. Blood gushed down my neck, dribbled in streams to the platform beneath me where it pooled and eventually ran over the edge. As I kept screaming, he moved to the other side of my head, and through the haze of agony I knew he was going to do it again.

"And this is for the young prince!" he hissed, before jabbed his blade into my other fire gland. Between the two punctured and ruined glands, the agony was too much to bear, and I mercifully passed out.

When I awoke my head throbbed so badly I vomited several times. They had done just enough for my wounds to keep me from bleeding out, but little more. After that...I had little will to fight back for a while. I thought I knew how this would end. I imagined they wanted me to live long enough to execute me in public. To make an example of me to their own people. To show them that the long nightmare I had wrought upon the armies of Illandra in some far flung barbaric land was over.

I was right about that part of it, but wrong about the execution.

When I stopped fighting back, they did not torture me as often. From time to time someone still decided they wanted to hear me scream. Or wanted to see me suffer whatever humiliation they could think up for a dragon. I shall not speak of them in detail, I am sure you can imagine what sort of wretched things dragon slayers might do to a male dragon held helpless.

Aside from torment and humiliation, no one really spoke to me. No one asked me why I had come to slay the king's family. No one cared about the things I had experienced or seen. I was just a monster to them, and as long as I was obedient they would not beat me too badly. They fed me once a day. It was not enough food to keep a dragon healthy, but it would keep me alive. They gave me water in the morning, and at night. If I hesitated to eat or drink they beat me again until I complied. Once a day they unchained me long enough to relieve myself. My injuries and hunger kept me weak enough to ensure I would not attempt to escape when they did so. If I had to go any other time I was forced to hold it or befoul myself upon that cursed stone.

We reached their capital city of Illandra eventually. I had always thought it a foolish thing to name the city after the country, but upon first witnessing that massive stone monstrosity it all made sense. It was bigger than I had ever imagined a city to be, with towers and buildings that soared further into the air than any human structure I'd imagined. Not that I had a very good look at it with my head chained down.

Illandra was prepared for my arrival. The whole city was in the midst of a massive celebration. It was only then that I realized just how far the rumors of the Aran'alian dragons had spread. My plan had worked, and we had made our way into the deepest nightmares of Illandrans everywhere. Yet it seemed that all that had accomplished was to give them even more reason to celebrate my capture. They could use me as a great propaganda victory, to prove to their people that after years of hardship they were finally making great strides against their barbaric, beastly foes. I wonder if the city even knew the truth of the king's family.

They paraded me through the town like the living trophy I had become. People cheered my captors and booed me as I passed. I had never felt such depth of hatred directed at me in all my life. Yet, I understood how they felt. That was how I had felt about their king for so many months after Amaleen died. As I passed they pelted me with things. Rubbish and rotten fruit mostly. Some of them encouraged their children to rush up and beat me with sticks while I was dragged by them.

I thought the parade would end with my beheading in some grand public plaza. Instead, the parade took me all the way to the grounds of their citadel. Even from my position, I got a glimpse of the place and recognized it as the structure on their flag. Five towers, each seemingly taller and more fortified than the last. To imagine that I had once thought we could best this country at war. Such hubris.

And yet...somewhere in my heart, I held out a shred of hope for my homeland. They did not have to march on Illandra and conquer their capital. They merely had to fight their army to a standstill long enough for Illandra to decide victory was not worth the cost.

They marched me through their courtyard, to a gaping chasm that yawned beneath one of the wings of their castle. Down a sloped road into the darkness they bore me. Torches lit the way, and when my eyes began to adjust I saw immense columns that rose from the floor and spread into arches along the ceiling. If I were not so frightened, laying eyes on such a place for the first time would have humbled me. I had no idea that humans could carve such things from stone. And to think that all this was underground, as if long before the castle had ever been built above, a cathedral had been carved belowground from the very bedrock itself.

They took me all the way to the massive stone wall at the far end of the place. Ahead of me I saw thick, sturdy iron shackles and chains bolted into the wall, and I knew that this was my prison. I was to be kept in a hole in the ground, stony and gray. For the first time in a while, I thought about resisting as they removed one set of shackles and chains to trade them for another. Yet I could not put enough weight on my hind leg to properly whirl around in time to sink my teeth into any of my guards.

That did not stop me from trying.

I only made it half way around for someone struck me in the head with a cudgel. I stumbled as pain blossomed in my head. My vision swam, and as my hind leg gave out he struck me again, this time below my ribs. I flopped to the floor, and as I tried to curl up, two of the other guards calmly grasped one of my hind limbs and stretched it out to lock the shackle around my ankle. Then, as if just for good measure they struck me in the testicles just as hard as they'd hit me elsewhere. Crying out sharply, I curled up as tightly as I could. They left me there, writhing in humiliated pain for a while. When they came to finish shackling me up, I did not resist.

I was simply too wounded and too exhausted to put up any kind of fight. For a while I still thought they were going to kill me. I thought surely they were just waiting for the right time to end my life. Make me suffer a while first, and then finish me off. I thought perhaps it would be better to die soon than spend the rest of my life in this terrible place. In a way, I almost hoped for death.

My hopes were dashed the day they dragged the first stone blocks down to start walling me in. Teams of horses and mules dragged down immense, square cut blocks, and groups of men used ropes and pulleys to set them in place. Each of the stone blocks looked heavy enough to make it difficult for me to move them individually, let alone when stacked atop each other. Though likely the weight of the stones themselves would have worked as a near unbreakable link, the mortared each of the stones together just in case. And as they built that wall day by day, they also began to cut vents through the stone. All along the far wall where it met the ceiling, they chiseled and cut vents to ensure I would not suffocate.

I knew then that I would spend the rest of my life in this place.

They made me watch as they walled me inside. They wanted me to suffer the knowledge that I was going to die in here, but not for many years. Dragons lived a long time, and they wanted me to know that time would be spent in this hole, forgotten by all who once cared for me. They continued to feed me only once a day, ensuring that I would remain too weak to properly resist while I still had a chance to escape.

The king visited me only once.

He came, flanked by a few dozen guards, to visit me on the day they were putting in the last of the stone blocks. He brought a chair. He did not seem to have anything to say. He simply sat in the chair, and stared at me. For a while, I stared back at him. He was not as old as I expected a king to be. In the relative lifespan of a human, I doubted he was any older than I was. Once, he was probably just as proud of his son as I was of Valar. I looked away for a moment, sighing.

If he caught my moment of regret he said nothing. I soon turned my attention back to the man I had so hated for so long. He had reddish hair, and a very scruffy, unkempt beard. I imagined it had once been quite neatly groomed, but with the death of his family he lacked the will to attend such trivial matters. Even his regal purple and black clothing was wrinkled and unclean. He did not care about such things anymore. His skin looked pallid. Illandrans were paler than Aran'alians but this was something else. This was a man who had grown weak and sickly. His eyes were dark and haunted.

I had ruined this man.

I pitied his wife, and I would not forgive myself the sin of taking his child from him. Yet I held no pity for the king himself. No mercy in my heart for the man who ordered the invasion of Illandra. The death of his wife and son had shattered this man, this so-called king, just as the Amaleen's death had shattered me.

"You will spend," the king finally said, his voice weak, broken. "The rest of your long life here. You shall never taste freedom. You shall never again feel the warmth of the sun. You shall never see your home again."

I said nothing. I merely stared at him.

"Was it worth it?" He asked. He wanted closure I did not want to provide. Tears shone in his eyes. "Was it worth it to murder my love, and my son?"

Still I said nothing. I stared down at him a moment, then looked away. I rustled my wings, and shifted myself a little. My hind leg ached terribly, and my jaws still hurt. It was hard to eat some days. But I had nothing to offer him.

"They say you can speak our tongue..." The king stared off into the distance, looking right through the stone wall. "Why? Why did you do it?"

I glanced back at him, glaring silently.

"I just..." The king sunk his face into his hands, weeping. "I just want to know why."

That...sounded so familiar. I almost pitied him.

"We should go, Sire." One of the guards put a hand on the king's shoulder. "This demon has nothing to say."

I lay myself down, the chains rattling around me. I would not let his pitiful jabs get to me. But I turned my gaze to the one who had spoken. I bared my fangs a little, and raised my spines. I glared at him in a way I had not glared at any of my captors since the day they took my fire. If he came over here to beat me in the presence of that king, I would kill the man, chains or no chains. Perhaps if I fought back now they would slay me inadvertently.

The man took a step back, but did not approach me.

"You can speak, can't you?" The king asked, his voice pleading. "Please, if you've any decency in you...tell me why."

"And if I have no decency left?" I finally said, turning my attention full bore to the king once more.

"You say that is if you ever had decency in you..." The king took a step towards me, shrugging off the hand of his guard.

"I did," I said softly. "Once. Before your men murdered the one who put it there."

"So," the king surmised. "You lost someone dear to you."

That was already more than I wanted to tell him. I did not reply. He sighed, and dragged his hand down his bearded face, his shoulders slumping. "But why my son?"

"That..." I did not know what to say. But on that subject, and that subject alone, it did not feel right to hold my tongue. "I do not know what you expect me to say. If you expect an excuse, I will offer none. If you expect an apology, then I swear to you on my wings and my still-beating heart that I did not mean for your son to die. For that, and only that, I am truly regretful. I shall bear that sin for all my days, and each day I shall regret it."

The king did not speak. I did not expect him to believe me. Yet, something in his mannerisms told me he did. He gazed into my eyes for a few moments, and I did not avert my gaze. His next words stole my breath away. "You have a son too, don't you."

I froze. My eyes had betrayed me. From then on, I would have to work to guard the secrets held within my eyes.

Paranoid squeezed my heart. The Illandrans had known where to find Amaleen. Had they slain her only because she was our leader, or also because she was my lover? Had their infiltrators already told them about Valar? Did the king know, or was he just looking for a way to hurt me? I suddenly found myself hoping Kylaryn had already left Sigil Stones with Valar and never looked back. My hesitation did not last long. I let my face twist into a crumbling mask of pain. It was not hard.

"I did," I said, bitterly. It was as true as anything else. "Once."

I left it at that. Let him find his own closure.

The king sighed, and settled back in his chair. For a while, he just pressed his face into his hands. Now and then he wept. I knew how he felt, and now, he knew how I felt. When he'd composed himself, he asked a few more questions but I lacked the strength to answer them. Finally, he rose from his chair.

"Just...tell me why, Dragon," he said. "Why me? Why my family? You had an entire army to seek your...vengeance upon. Answer me that and I will see that you are well treated."

I lifted my head a little and stared at him. For a moment, he almost seemed to understand me. But I had nothing else to say. I lowered my head, and closed my eyes. The king did not linger in my prison much longer. He rose and a guard took his chair, and he began to make his way towards the exit. Then the king paused, and turned back towards me, staring a moment

With his gaze still distant, he said, "My wife did not agree with the war. And my son did not harm your family, Dragon. He was...he was only four years old. And I can see in your eyes that you had a son, as well. So you know how it feels." He ran a hand back over his messy hair, his voice shaking. "You will spend the rest of your long life buried under my city, in the heart of my kingdom, knowing you murdered an innocent woman and an innocent child. Knowing you deserve this. ...Knowing that sooner or later, your home will be part of my kingdom. And when that happens, there will be no place for monsters like you."

He turned then, and made his way to the stairs. I should have let that go. I should have let him walk away. But I had a knife in him now and I was going to twist it till the blood would never stop flowing.

Slowly, I lifted my head. When I spoke, I let my voice call out, brassy and strong and filled with conviction. "When you lay in bed tonight, awake and alone. When you wake in the morning, and turn to your wife to find that she is gone. When you hear a child laughing, and you fall to your knees to weep for your son, you will know." I took a few deep breaths, my words settling on the king like a weight that bore him towards the floor. "When you ask your Gods why your family is gone, and you get no answer, you will know. When you dream of your family and you wake screaming in the night, and you reach for your wife and she is gone, you will KNOW!" I took another breath as the guards all surrounded their king as though they feared I would break my chains and charge them. "You will know how I felt when I buried her. You will know that you and only you ordered the war that took her life. You will know you could have stopped this war at any moment, and you will know why I came for you."

I turned my gaze towards the wall that sealed my fate. "You will know that no matter who you lay the blame upon, in the end this is on your head. Your orders to invade Aran'alia brought about the deaths of your wife, and your son." I slowly lay my head down against the ground. "For all your lingering, grief-stricken days, ever will you know that this is on your head."

That was the last time I ever saw the king. Yet true to his word, he ensured I was treated well. When my prison was complete, guards came to release me from my shackles so that I could wander the halls of my tomb. From then on, they fed me three times a day, and ensured I have plenty of water. Surgeons came to stitch up my legs and my jaws, and to tend the patches of me scraped raw. Not once in that time was I beaten or tortured. Despite what I had done to the king he sought no further vengeance upon me than my imprisonment. In that way, he seemed a better person than I.

Some time later, I heard that the king climbed to the top of Illandra's highest tower in the middle of the night, and flung himself off of it. I doubt whoever took his place ever told the people how the King really died. Obviously they carried on the war in his name regardless. And though I clung to the hope that perhaps Aran'alia would yet live free, that dream has clearly been shattered ages ago.

And so it was, Alia, that I was left in this dungeon to rot. To spend all my many days lamenting the family I had left behind. To curse myself every day for abandoning my son in order to pursue the vengeance that spiraled out of control, claimed an innocent boy and landed me in this festering hole. To wonder if the king who abolished my torture until the day his grief drove him to suicide was in his own way, a better creature than I.

When the king died, his order outlawing my mistreatment died with him. After the first few times they beat me I began to fight back again. Once I'd killed a few of them, they were not so eager to press their luck torturing me. Yet now and then some warden or some group of guards or some idiot noble get it into their heads that I need to be punished.

After the king died, I thought his replacement would order my execution. But it never happened. Even when I'd slain a particularly cruel warden, they never came to take my life. They never cut off my supply of food for more than a few days, and they never poisoned my flow of water. I suspect the former king left some kind of standing order that no matter what, I was to kept alive and healthy enough to ensure a long, miserable and lonely life.

And that is exactly the life I have lead, Alia.

Year after year, I still grieve for Amaleen. Year, after painful year, I wonder about my son. Every year that passes, I add a new mark to my little calendar I have hidden away behind the book cases. Though it is not merely a calendar I use to mark the passing of the decades. You see, I carve a new mark each time I see the first snowflakes of the year drifting through my air vents.

Each mark is another year that I hope Valar has lived. Another Hatching Day I hope he has seen. Were I to count them now, I would know how many years it has been since Amaleen pulled those stitches from his body and we played together in the snow.

I hope that if Valar yet draws breath, he has not come to hate his father the way I've come to hate myself. You see for all these years I have asked myself a simple question.

You asked me the same question once, Alia.

It was the day I first met you, after you had shown me kindness the likes of which I had not seen since I left Sigil Stones. It was the question you asked me just before you departed for the night. Do you remember?

You asked me if I deserved to be here.

At the time I had no answer to give you. Only that I asked myself the same thing time and again. Now, looking back, having told you the tale of my life, and of the monster I became, and the way I left my son behind I think the answer is clear.

Yes, Alia. I do deserve to be here.

...Even now, you would say that? ...That is...kind of you.

But, I think my tale ends here, in this dungeon. At the very least, the tale you asked me to tell is ended. It is quite light outside now, and I am sure you have things to do.

...Oh? Would you? Very well, Alia.

In that case...if it is alright, I should very much just like to be held a while.

Thank you, Alia.

---

Thus ends Valyrym's tale. Thank you for reading. If you've enjoyed, please dont forget to Fav and Vote first, and then leave a comment. I would sincerely love to hear what you've thought of the story.