Mama

The stars shine brightest on moonless nights. With no other light to distract from their magnificence, they twinkled and danced across the River Seldaryn. Nykaenyth lowered one of her long pearlescent Talons into the water as she flew, enchanted by the way the lights shimmered. She knew she should not be here. The Seldaryn divided Fendry and the Empire, both of which would send armies and machines of war after her; nevertheless, the words of mortal kings meant little to dragons. Nykaenyth knew that the High King of the dragons, Tennō Lendys, would condemn her midnight flight. She only chuckled to herself, a rough rasping sound like leather on leather.

Nykaenyth was a dragon. She was, and always would be, a dragon first. It was not all that she was however. Moonstone-scaled dragons originated from a world of chaotic and uncontrollable magics that were alien to this world. Nykaenyth thought herself nearly as much a faerie as she thought herself to be a dragon. Both halves of her soul, fey and dragon alike, could not turn from the beauty of the stars shining upon this river. Its luster was made all the more irresistible on the night of a new moon, when she was certain, so certain she knew it in her scales and her bones and the fur of her breast, that no mortal eyes would dare to fall upon her that night.

A scent on the breeze wafted over to her, tearing her from her musings. Smoke. Fire was a thing feared by all dragonkin. Regardless of what mortals thought, only the devilish red wyrms or the near divine golden drakes breathed the element of creation and devastation into existence. Nykaenyth's long, serpentine neck swung to the east where the scent was coming from. Not far into what had once been elven woods, dark clouds of smoke could be seen rising into the sky. The moonstone dragon growled in discontent before rising high into the air.

From hundreds of feet in the air, Nykaenyth's gaze combed the forests. There, maybe five miles from the Fendrian border, was a small human village composed mostly of wooden buildings with a massive bonfire burning in its center. Standing around the fire was a mob of villagers, mostly human men, though from even this far Nykaenyth's keen eyes could see the smaller and less robust form of elves sprinkled in amongst them. As she watched, the men of the village rushed into the woods to the north. It is said that faeries are as curious as cats, and that dragons are even twice so. Nykaenyth was even twice that.

The large dragon tilted its great wings and the warm air carried it north faster than any elf could run. It was mere moments before she flew over their prey, flew so quickly she passed them and had to turn back to confirm what she had seen. There, fleeing through the unlit woods in the dead of night, was a woman with a small bundle of cloth clung to her chest. As Nykaenyth turned back to watch the ongoing events she watched the woman stumbling through the briars. The sound of a chorus of howls caught her attention and she looked back over her shoulder. She watched as the woman picked herself up, swore loudly, and turned west. She sprinted through the trees as thorns and branches bit into her arms and cheeks. Dark mud and clay clung to her bare feet as she ran. All the while she held that tiny bundle of cloth to her chest, stealing glances over her shoulders every few feet. Nykaenyth looked to the south where she could see the mobs chasing after the woman with hounds at the lead and torches in hand. The hounds were fast on the woman’s trail as she sprinted toward the River Seldaryn. It was clear to the faerie dragon, watching from far above, the woman would never outpace the men nor their dogs. She must have come to the same conclusion.

She quit looking over her shoulders, instead looking at the trees. When she found what she was looking for, she suddenly changed directions. She turned to a tree with large protrusive roots. She knelt in front of the roots and stashed the bundle deep into the mud under one of the roots. As she did, Nykaenyth circled closer to the woman. She had dark brown hair, knotted with leaves and branches around sharp angular features. Her bright golden eyes shone over high cheekbones and an angular jaw. Her thin nose twitched as she sniffed at the air. The scent of smoke hung heavy on the night air. She took a handful of mud, smearing it over the bundle, before standing and turning in the direction of her pursuers. The woman grabbed a small sharp stone in one hand and rushed back the direction she had come. When she had traveled as near to her pursuers as she was willing to brave she stopped. With the stone in hand, she slashed at her other palm, at her forearm, and at her own cheek. Each of her three strikes drew a thin crimson line across her fair skin. When her work was done, the woman started sprinting north once again.

A cry rang out in the night. A single word. A word that tore at the woman’s conviction. A word that sealed the mercurial moonstone dragon’s fate in granite stone.

The figure hesitated only a moment, frozen mid-stride, before the hounds barking hardened her heart. She ran through the woods, rubbing her hands on every tree she passed. The cunning drake understood immediately what the woman meant to do. It was a brave attempt, though Nykaenyth knew, deep in her heart, it would not be enough. The first hounds reached the spot where the woman had cut herself. They circled the area, learning her scent and differentiating from all others in the forest. One of the beasts let out a loud bark, and rushed northward, following the path of blood laid out by the vanishing woman. Its packmates barked and bayed in eagerness before chasing after it. Nykaenyth sighed a great draconic breath of relief, closing her eyes and allowing herself to think for just a moment that she had been wrong, that the woman’s plan had worked. She allowed herself that everything, or at least almost everything, would work out.

When she opened her eyes the great faerie dragon’s heart sank. The first hound was still there. It was still circling the area and sniffing at the dirt and the mud. Its master, a human man, pulled the hound’s leash with one hand, a lit torch in his other. That first hound barked and started pulling on its leash, not in the direction of the others, but in the direction of the tree. The human gave his beast a confused look and shouted at it. The hound would not relent though. It continued to bark and growl as it tried to pull its master in the direction of the tree. Unfortunately, the man was clever enough to heed to the hound’s tenacity. He broke into a run, his hound chasing the scent as he held his torch high.

Nykaenyth was locked in decision now. The woman’s hard work and sacrifice would amount to nothing if she allowed the human to continue. However she was forbidden from interfering, by both mortal and draconic sovereigns alike. Nykaenyth told herself that she was under no obligation to help the unknown woman. She neither knew the woman nor did she owe her anything. Nykaenyth told herself that a word could mean nothing. She told herself that a cry could not change a dragon’s heart. It was true. Dragons were steadfast, immutable, and unwavering deific creatures far beyond these mortals, that were motivated only by their own self-interest.

The Fey were none of those things. If a faerie’s heart was any word, that word was ‘ever-changing’.

She dove from the skies. Her great maw opened wide, unleashing a cloud of sea-green colored mists that were dotted with small glittery motes. As the mists fell over the man and his hound both crumpled to the ground. Moonstone dragons were after all faerie dragons, not great wyrms of golden or crimson fire. Faerie dragons did not need to rend the sky with bolts of thunder nor slow their prey with cones of rimefrost. Faerie dragons breathed that which they were created from, enchantments and illusions, and in all the worlds there are few more universally understood illusions than dreams themselves. Thus, the man and his hound fell to the ground, unconscious and snoring loudly.

Nykaenyth had hesitated a moment too long however. In her haste to get within range of the two hunters, she had dove too quickly from the night sky. With a loud crash she landed amongst the brambles and the trees, knocking over several and breaking others. She flexed her great wings and dug in her mighty claws, trying to stop as she slid across the forest, doing more and more damage. When she stopped she had left a slew of destroyed timber in her wake nearly the length of her own form behind her. There would be no hiding the meddling of dragons this moonless night. She looked ahead, however, to the tree.

The tree she had risked exposing herself for was just in front of her. The tree that the stranger had given her life to conceal was so close. It was so close that if Nykaenyth stretched out her long neck, she could reach out and scrape it with her horn. She dared not. Nykaenyth dared not even breathe. The dragon was frightened of what might happen next.

There at the base of the tree, she saw movement. A minuscule onyx hand reached out from under the roots. As the child pulled herself out from the shadows, Nykaenyth knew for certain that this tiny being was the source of that cry, but at the same time she was bewildered. Where the human woman had been pale with dark brown hair and golden eyes, this child was none of those things. She had stark white hair tucked behind her sable pointed ears. She was an elf, more accurately a dark elf, a drow. Her glittering rose eyes matched Nykaenyth’s heavy gaze.

Then she said it again.

“Mama?” The girl asked. Her eyes began to water. As she matched the dragon’s gaze undaunted, Nykaenyth saw her reflection in the drow’s eyes.

The fearsome dragon stood taller than the oldest trees in the forest. Her blue-tinted opalescent scale shimmered with starlight as she spread her wings wide and held her head high. She was long and lithe with legs nearly two-thirds the length of her torso, and her neck and tail were longer still. Her face consisted of a long and narrow snout that had an almost two-foot long horn at the tip of her nose, and nearly five foot long horn curving from the crown of her head. She resembled the crescent moon that did not shine on the two that night. Nykaenyth had patches of sea-green fur beneath her maw, across her breast, and running the length from her wings to the end of her tail. The young drow girl’s soft pink eyes met the dragon’s harsh green ones.

“Mama?” The girl asked again.

As the two stared at one another, Nykaenyth saw the girl’s mother. It was there in her thin nose, dividing the pink eyes. Her mother was there, in the proud way the girl’s sharp chin did not waver. Her prominent cheekbones were the same shape as the human woman’s. There was no doubt her confusion left in the dragon’s mind. That strange figure was “Mama”.

That strange figure had been “Mama”. She was “Mama” no more.

In truth, she simply was no more.

“Hello, little one.” Nykaenyth growled softly to the girl in the human tongue.

The girl said nothing in return, only matched the dragon’s gaze. Nykaenyth hesitated. She pondered to herself what to do next. Nykaenyth had not landed quietly, and knew the humans might have turned back to investigate, or might do so soon. She also knew that she could not leave this child with them. She needed some way to convince this small, frightened child to come with her, the gigantic fearsome dragons. She knew little of humans or their ways. Elves were more familiar to her. Elves, being closely related to fey, were more resistant to the breath of moonstone dragons. That was why Nykaenyth’s breath had not placed the child into a deep slumber.

It dawned on her, then. Elves were closely related to the fey.

It was a gamble. She was guessing at the nature of a creature she knew next to little about because it was half-related to the fey.

But so was she.

“Would you like to hear a story, little one?” Nykaenyth asked, as she lowered herself to the ground. The girl took a single step back, then nodded.

“In a far, far land lived a Princess,” Nykaenth started. “The princess had skin like a raven's feathers and eyes as pink as roses. She had hair as white as snow. In fact,... that’s what everyone called her. Snow White. Snow White was the prettiest princess in all the lands.”

“Pretty?” The young girl asked, staring down at her hands.

“Yes, little one. Very pretty.” Nykaenyth said softly. The child walked forward gingerly and placed one of her small obsidian hands and the dragon’s opal colored snout.

“Very pretty.” The young drow girl said with a big toothy grin.

Nykaenyth heard a gasp behind her. They had been spotted. The great dragon could stay and fight off the small village. Likely she could crush the entire village beneath one claw, and neither king might ever hear of it. In a heartbeat, she decided against that path. The child had seen enough violence that night. The massive faerie dragon swooped the half-drow girl up in one of her giant claws, beat her mighty wings, and flew. She flew faster than any elf could run, faster than any spear could be thrown, faster than any arrow could fly. Nykaenyth did not even think of stopping until long after the sun had risen in the east, and the River Seldaryn had faded behind them in the west. When she did, she looked down at the small drow girl curled up in her talons, sleeping tenderly.

Nykaenyth made a promise. A promise to the woman she had left behind, a promise to the young girl she had taken with her, and a promise to herself. She swore by her name and by all that she was, that no force in all the worlds would stop her from making sure that this girl, her Snow White, was safe, and that she would do everything within her great power to make this girl smile every chance she got.

Nykaenyth was a dragon.

Nykaenyth was a faerie.

Nykaenyth was a mama.