Something is Wrong

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The murders seemed to begin soon after the dragons appeared.

They’d begun quietly, secretly, and at first no one had known they were murders, much less that there was a connection to the very dramatic return of the dragons. No one had known...except Rakayla. She’d felt it deep in her sixteen year old bones. Every moment of a childhood spent in the forests of the Valley had told her that something was wrong. But no one believed her. Not when the drunken vagrant disappeared. Not when one of the hunters had died falling off a cliff while exploring a new game trail. Not when the old woman who’d lived in a hut at the furthest edge of the village had been found dead in her bed. And not when the head Warden had been discovered killed by a wild boar.

Everyone said that the vagrant must have moved along to a different village, and good luck to her.

As to the hunter, everyone in the profession knew that death was a risk inherent to the job. But the work was important, so after a brief period of mourning, everyone went back to normal.

When the old woman had died people had said it was simply her time and wasn’t she lucky to pass so peacefully, in her sleep. Of course it was sad that there was no one to mourn her, but, well, it was her own fault, wasn’t it? For being so reclusive. For believing in the Old Ways. For always shouting and grumbling and stomping around as though she were the only one who knew the truth and everyone else were imbeciles and morons.

Rakayla had liked that about her.

When the Warden had died, people had been shocked. After all, he was the best of them, the strongest, both physically and in magic. That was why he was the head Warden, after all. Who better to protect them from the Dark of the Wood? And who would now lead the lighting rituals in the dark of the moon? But, well, even the head Warden was only human. And he had seemed tired lately. Everyone could have a bad day and wild boars were notoriously unpredictable. It was tragic, but it was no use wishing things were different now. Luckily, the village had Sanhay. He would make a wonderful head Warden, in spite of his youth.

Maybe so. But Rakayla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that it had something to do with the arrival of the dragons, and that more bad things would happen if someone didn’t do something soon.

Her uncle, the head Warden, hadn’t been an easy man to love. Not for her, anyway. He’d been strict and uncompromising in his belief in the Light. And he’d required his family to be the same. That’s why cousin Mishna had run away five times. He’d always been quiet and sensitive, a moth to Uncle Rai’s eagle. Uncle Rai had drilled him every morning and every night in the ways of the Light, from the five basic manifestations of the Spark and their uses in defense of the village, to the grueling physical discipline of the Wardens.

More than once, Rakayla had found Mishna sobbing in the woods, curled into a tiny ball, hidden among the ferns and shadows.

“Don’t let them tell you that the Light is all there is, my girl.” The old woman’s voice had been raspy and powerful, like a whip crack sometimes, and other times like the low thrum of a waterfall heard from far away. “The Old Ways are all about balance, you see, taking the dark with the light. We need them both and no mistake. And when you ignore the darkness, well, that’s when you give things a chance to get the drop on you.”

“What things?” Rakayla had asked. It had been a long time ago, when she’d been only eight and had only just started sneaking into the woods on her own.

The old woman had smiled crookedly, as though she wasn’t used to smiling much.

“Never you mind, young one. You’ll find out in time. Mark my words. The Great Ones have big plans for you.”

“What plans?” Rakayla had asked, but she’d never gotten an answer. Now, she never would.

And unless those plans had something to do with weaving cloth and washing dishes, Rakayla couldn’t see what the old woman’s Great Ones might want her to do. Because that’s what her life consisted of. She’d wake in the morning and fight a losing battle with her curly hair. After wrestling it into a semblance of a modest bun, she’d wash her face and slip into a roughspun, knee-length tunic and a matching pair of loose trousers. Then she’d either help prepare the morning meal for the Wardens’ garrison, or for the children of the village at the school. She didn’t attend school herself anymore. Girls only attended until they were fourteen. After that, they learned a trade. Rakayla’s was weaving. Boys, on the other hand, got to continue their studies and added in magic manipulation once they were strong enough.

Because, of course, women couldn’t use magic.

The thought triggered an echo of the old woman’s cackle in Rakayla’s mind. She’d always seemed to be laughing about something, mostly at someone else’s expense, but she’d never let Rakayla in on the joke. She’d definitely be laughing now, if she were still alive, seeing Rakayla crouched down in the brush, trying to sneak up on a dragon.

Rakayla could imagine what the old woman might say to her.

What do you think you’re doing, you silly girl? Trying to get yourself killed?

“No,” Rakayla whispered an answer to the imagined question. “It’s you who got yourself killed and left me all alone.”

The echo of her laugh whispered through Rakayla’s mind. People die, my girl. There’s no helping that.

“Maybe not,” murmured Rakayla, “but you shouldn’t be dead. Not yet. It isn’t time.”

And what makes you so sure you know better than the Great Ones, eh? Cheeky little hedgehog.

“I just...know.” Rakayla said it aloud. Her hands clenched into fists. Her knuckles whitened. “I know this is wrong. You shouldn’t be dead and neither should Uncle Rai. It wasn’t your time.”

Says who?

“Says who?”

Rakayla startled at the voice, thumping down on her bottom as she lost her balance turning to look behind her in surprise.

“Says who?” repeated Sanhay, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow. His gray eyes were flint hard as he looked at her. He was only two years older than Rakayla, but he already had the broad shoulders and heavy muscle of an adult from all his training as a Warden. He’d advanced into the position younger than anyone had in over a hundred years. Everyone said he was a prodigy.

Rakayla thought of him as a stuck up bore.

Not that she’d ever talked to him. Rakayla was too much of an outsider to have been allowed anywhere near Sanhay.

She pushed herself to her feet to stand in front of him, brushing the dead leaves off her clothing and quickly shifting the knife hanging at her side around to the small of her back, hoping that Sanhay hadn’t noticed it.

Rakayla blinked up at him with wide eyes and asked in a deliberately vacant voice, “What do you mean?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s what I’m asking you. What do you mean when you say it wasn’t the head Warden’s time?”

“Nothing.” Rakayla pulled on her memories of Liselle, a girl her own age with silken blonde hair and wide blue eyes and a distinct lack of original thought in her head, to feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sanhay sighed. His hands dropped to sit on his waist and his dark hair fell over his eyes, making him look more like the youth he was than the future head Warden that he was soon to become.

“If you won’t answer that question, then what about this one? What are you doing here?”

Rakayla shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean what are you doing here so close to the dragons’ weir, alone, with nothing more than a tiny dagger for protection?”

“Ah.” Rakayla stood a little straighter and let her expression relax into its normal state. “You noticed.”

“No one is supposed to come up here,” said Sanhay. “It’s too dangerous. Even the Wardens don’t come up here, so you—”

“That’s a good point.” The words slipped from Rakayla’s mouth before she was consciously aware of the thought.

Her interjection interrupted Sanhay’s lecture before it could really get started. “What?” he asked.

“Even the Wardens don’t come up here. It’s too dangerous.” Rakayla looked straight into Sanhay’s eyes. “So what are you doing here?”

Sanhay’s jaw dropped. He stammered, “I... I was... I just... I heard...”

Rakayla crossed her arms and smirked up at him. “You aren’t supposed to be here either, are you?”

Sanhay’s pale skin flushed a dark red as he blustered, “I don’t know what you mean! I’m a Warden. We can go wherever we need to!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Rakayla tutted. “My uncle would be very disappointed in you.”

Sanhay seemed to deflate. “But... But I...”

“But you what?”

“I can feel that there’s something wrong. I couldn’t just leave it.”

Rakayla’s brows knitted together and her dark gaze grew pointed. “Something wrong? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I feel like something’s wrong. I can’t explain it any other way.” Sanhay stopped and looked at her. He shook his head once and pulled himself up to his full height. “Hang on. I’m the Warden here. And you’re not supposed to be this close to the dragons at all. You answer my questions.”

“Fine,” said Rakayla. “But even if I answer, you’re not going to listen.”

Sanhay’s gaze seemed to soften a little. “Don’t be so sure.”

Rakayla looked at him in surprise. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. She had no reason to trust him. He’d always been the golden boy, the head of the class, the shining example. He never put a foot wrong while Rakayla seemed to do nothing but.

Still. He was here. And he seemed to share some misgivings about what was going on in their valley, things that no one else seemed to question.

Her mind made up, Rakayla opened her mouth to speak—

A screeching, reptilian cry ripped through the air. Rakayla and Sanhay dropped down to hide in the brush just as a gust of wind slammed down on top of them, sending leaves and branches whirling.

The dragons had found them.