The Curse of Khaisea

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The first one arrived one hundred blue moons ago. His name was Zaemmeorth, but more commonly called Icebreath, because he came during the coldest and longest of winters.

Many months before Icebreath’s arrival, Lady Emylyna, who had the faint curves of womanhood, lay awake on the night of the blue moon. Grief filled her as she glanced over at her husband whose breath was deep with slumber. Slowly, she extricated herself from the linens and wrapped a hooded velvet robe around herself tightly, readying for the chill of the night.

“Emylyna, what are you doing?” Lord Lewis asked.

The Lady turned. She had tried to slip out without him noticing. She composed herself. “I need to pay someone a visit.”

Lord Lewis thought for a moment, foggy from being woken. Then it became clear. There was only one place she could be going at this hour. “You can’t.”

“I have to. What other choice do we have?”

His face fell somber. “We-,” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“What?”

“We don’t have to have a child.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“You have no idea what will happen.”

“We know what will happen if we do nothing.”

The Lord sighed. She took it as her permission.

“I will be home by morning.” The Lady kissed his forehead.

Determined, the young woman stole away from the Kingdom of Khaisea. There was no hiding where she was going. The ground was blanketed in crusty week-old snow, her footsteps preserved in the white. In her mind, the rhythmic crunching of her steps formed a cascade of small bursting circles, which kept her thoughts occupied as she continued on her long trek.

That winter was a rather strange one indeed. Because of the cold, the Khaiseans faced the worst famine of their time. They barely ate. Their skin hung like loose clothing. With each moon that cycled through the sky, the bleeds of the women did not come. Without the bleeds, they could not bear children. Their fertility waned as the First Borns became ever more frail.

Lady Emylyna herself had been born in the caul. The thin amniotic sac covered her head like a sacred veil as she came into the world. At birth, she was deemed the charmed one who could bring fertility even in times of famine. When she too lost her monthly bleeds, she was said to possess a troubled spirit and blamed for the barrenness of the land.

When she walked the cobbled streets, the passersby looked away and murmured to his companion, “The Lady lost her bleed.” When they spoke, she saw wavy lines that made her dizzy. The information seemed to carry through the wind until every Khaisean knew: not even the High Family could bear a child.

The news was hardly surprising. Hunger and death didn’t discriminate, but what would happen if the Kingdom began to perish? Would they banish her for their suffering? Part of her wondered if it was her fault, and her absence would bring the much needed fertility of spring.

Lady Emylyna couldn’t face the answers to those questions. Instead, she walked. She trudged through the hardened snow, her mind numb from the hunger and the cold. She had tried asking her sisters and the midwives for help. They avoided her. She left, stricken with despair.

Past the Kingdom of Khaisea on the far side of the Valley lived Elsbeth Quinn, the Witch of Red. She belonged to the Coven of the Desolate Peaks, a band of witches who lived in the mountains. The witches typically kept to themselves. They only made their presence known when their help was solicited. Lady Emylyna hoped that Elsbeth Quinn might be able to give her the child she desperately longed for, the child that would break the curse of the Kingdom. She had thought of the Witch of Red before, but every time, she shoved the idea far away. There was no predicting the consequences of her help.

On the edge of the Kingdom was the Hissing Forest, a place she’d only heard rumors about. Soon after entering, she heard snickering. She gazed up at the leafless trees. There was nothing there. “The Lady is going to see the Witch,” she swore she heard someone whisper. She turned quickly. Something jumped from one tree to the next.

“Who’s there?” she called.

Her fear was met with more snickering. “Don’t be afraid of us. We’re far less dangerous than the Witch of Red!”

The antagonism was followed by full bellied laughter.

“Show yourselves.” The young woman demanded.

A small creature appeared in front of her, blocking her path. It was a Frost Imp. He had a curved chin, two horns, and a long skinny tail. He bowed, “At your service!” Then he flew off, using his tail to swing between branches.

Another one appeared and then another, each bowing and departing in the same chaotic manner.

“I’m sorry, I must keep going. Otherwise I will never make it.”

“Maybe you should turn around. The Kingdom is a much safer place for a lovely Lady like yourself.”

“My husband is coming,” she declared.

“Soon, I hope,” one of the Imps said and the rest snickered. The first Imp swooped so low, he nearly grazed her.

“Here, take these if you must continue on as you say. Give them to the Witch as a gift.” He handed her a pair of red leather gloves. She thanked him and kept walking, not wanting to draw any more attention. She placed her hands in the warm gloves as their outbursts grew farther and farther away.

Emylyna continued her trek. Eventually, the flat of the Valley turned to a sloping hill, the first ascent of the Peaks of Desolation. She carried on for some ways until she came to the Stone Staircase.

The granite stairs wound their way up the mountainside. She stopped to catch her breath frequently. The pounding in her head intensified. If she turned, she could see the faint glow of the Kingdom. The Lady had come quite far. She could still turn around and go back. Now that she was nearly exiled herself already, what choice did she have?

Out of breath and sweat pooling on her low back, she kept climbing. Finally, she came to a wooden door. It was perfectly stamped into the mountainside with soft green vines resting over it. It would be easy to miss if she didn’t know what she was looking for. The Staircase kept going past the door. She didn’t know where it led.

The Lady lifted her shivering fist covered in the red glove. She knocked on the door with as much strength as she could muster. After a few minutes, it creaked open, the sound like a cat’s painful cry.

“Lady Emylyna,” the Witch of Red addressed. “It is dreadfully cold outside. Why have you come all of this way?”

Elsbeth Quinn was old. She had painted white hair and deep grooves that ran across her face. Her eyes were tinged red and her complexion was dark.

“I need,” the Lady stuttered. “I need to talk with you about something.”

“That much is crystal clear. Please don’t waste my time. Why are you here?”

Before Emylyna could say anything, tears began to fall to her cheeks.

Elsbeth Quinn looked at her expectantly.

Finally, she managed, “I cannot seem to get pregnant. We have tried and tried, but still there is nothing. No one can get pregnant, and they are blaming me,” she wept.

“Have you brought me anything?”

Emylyna pulled the red gloves from her hands and gifted them to the Witch, now thankful for the Frost Imp’s aid. Elsbeth Quinn invited her inside.

The room was very dark save the few candles on the table. Looking closer, she noticed all of the candle holders were in the shape of dragons.

“How long have you been trying?”

“Three years.”

“I see. You were the Lady born in the caul, correct?”

“Yes. That is why I am being blamed for everything.”

“Have you ever noticed anything peculiar about yourself? Something that was different from the other girls when you were growing up?”

“No, I don’t think so.

“Could you ever hear something other people couldn’t hear or see things other people couldn’t see?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What about your senses? Do they ever blend together?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like when you touch something, you taste a certain flavor or when you hear something, it has a particular color?”

“Yes, I do think I have something like that. When I hear a voice, I see a shape.”

“I wonder how you will do with pain,” the Witch of Red said this more to herself than the Lady.

“Sorry?”

“I have something that will help you, but with your synesthesia it will likely be very painful.”

“Synesthesia?”

“The blending of your senses. You may have a unique pain response.”

“I’m willing to try anything.”

Elsbeth Quinn let out a dark cackle, a pointed star shape to Emylyna. “Careful what you tell a witch, my dear. My definition of anything is certainly different from yours.”

The young woman felt that she had gotten too comfortable with the Witch of Red. “Certainly.”

Elsbeth Quinn held up a small capsule, translucent and speckled.“I will place this inside your womb and you will have a child.”

Lady Emylyna nodded. “What are you asking for in return?”

She smiled cooly, “You have already given me plenty.”

The Witch of Red held out her hand beckoning the Lady to follow. The young woman was led to another room with a cushioned table. While the entryway had smelled rich like pine, this room smelled sterile, devoid of comfort. She climbed atop the table and lay on her back.

“This is going to be uncomfortable, but soon you will be with child,” Elsbeth Quinn reassured.

Then she spread the young woman’s legs. Suddenly, there was a sharp cramping deep inside. The pain felt like a deep indigo blue. The Lady let out a cry. As quickly as it began, it was over and the Witch of Red pulled the robe over the young woman’s bare skin.

“Sit up, dear. All done.”

A bit stunned, she climbed off the table and followed the Witch of Red to the front of her abode. The smell of pine returned.

“Have sex within a week. Only return if there is blood. Pain is completely to be expected.”

“Thank you. I do have one more question. What about the famine? Is there anything you can do?”

“This child will bring the resolve you have been seeking.”

Elsbeth Quinn shut the sturdy wooden door, leaving the young woman in the cold. She began the long march down the Stone Staircase, not entirely sure what just happened. There was a warm tingly sensation in her lower abdomen she hadn’t felt before. Was this pregnancy? Lady Emylyna smiled. She was going to have a child.

Lady Emylyna returned home to her stone cottage with the thatched roof. She slipped under the linens as the blood orange hue of dawn filled the sky. The few remaining embers in the wood-burning stove gave off a dim incandescent hue. The cottage was warm.

Lord Lewis rolled over and sleepily opened his eyes. He pulled her closer. “I missed you.”

The light perfectly illuminated the sharp features of Lewis’ face. His shadow was cast on the stone wall behind him. She clutched his hand. Hers were chilled from the long journey. She pressed against him, sharing his warmth.

Lewis smiled. “I take it the visit went well?”

She kissed him tenderly, the warmth in her pelvis radiating.

Her belly began to grow within weeks despite her tall frame. On several days, the cramping and the nausea were so unbearable, she could barely make it out of bed.

With the first blue skies since her visit to the Witch of Red, Lady Emylyna gathered the strength to go on a walk. The air was crisp enough that her breath was visible. It seemed that the whole Kingdom was out. She gave polite nods to the Khaiseans she passed. Largely they ignored her.

She saw her older sister, Lady Zofia. Her sister looked at her and then away. On second glance, she practically squealed. “Oh by the Winds of Zephyrus, are you pregnant?”

Emylyna flushed.

Zofia let out a piercing shrill and pressed on her stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me? This is marvelous news. We must tell everyone. We must have a grand celebration!”

A twang of cramping buckled Lady Emylyna over. She was reminded of the Witch of Red’s warning.

“Maybe we should wait a little while longer, just to be sure the pregnancy will take.”

“Be sure the pregnancy will take? Look at your belly! It has already doubled in size.”

“Zofia,” she pleaded.

“Emylyna. This is the first child of our generation,” she paused. “And perhaps the only. We have to commemorate this momentous occasion!”

“Zofia, wait. I have to tell you something.”

“You always were a worrier, even as a girl.” Zofia brushed Emylyna’s hair behind her ear. “Trust me okay? Everything will be perfect.”

Lady Emylyna watched her sister skip off with glee down the cobblestoned streets. She steadied herself and returned home.

“I saw Zofia today. Apparently, she’s done ignoring me now that I’m pregnant. She wants to have a party,” Emylyna told Lewis when she walked in the door.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what is going to happen with this pregnancy. What if it doesn’t go the way we want? Elsbeth Quinn said–”

“She said you would have a child. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Of course there will be challenges along the way, but you will have your child. It will all be okay.”

“I just don’t think this is a normal pregnancy.”

“It’s not. We both have to come to terms with that. Like you said, what choice did we have?”

Lord Lewis embraced her and kissed her forehead.

“I did this for us,” she whispered.

As promised, Lady Zofia organized the grandest celebration of the last one hundred blue moons. It was called Iduna, for the celebration of rejuvenation. The entire Kingdom of Khaisea was invited.

Even though the celebration was for her, Emylyna did not want to go. She was more tired than usual. She had been nervous every day that something would go wrong with the pregnancy. The cramping had kept her nearly bedbound.

On the morning of Iduna, Emylyna bathed herself, the blue pangs of the baby’s kicks finally subsiding. The stretch marks on her skin were jagged like lightning bolts across her skin. They hurt when she pressed a washcloth to them. The midwives said her stomach grew faster than normal, the baby measuring larger than expected. She still had weeks before she was due. Emylyna hoped the baby would not grow much larger.

Emylyna dressed in a long gown, one that accommodated her large belly. She wore a crown of dried flowers.

A knock at the door revealed Lewis. “You look radiant as ever.”

Emylyna wiped the worry from her face.

“Shall we?” He offered his hand. He guided her to the Pavilion.

All of the Khaiseans who were well enough to come were gathered together. Lady Zofia was dressed in a light yellow gown that flattered her thin frame. “Finally, you’re here. What took you so long?”

Emylyna didn’t answer. Zofia tugged her arm leading her away from Lewis.

“Zofia, I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Everybody is waiting for you.”

The pain that had subsided became sharp, agonizing. It was deep within her pelvis, the color almost purple. She bent over, holding onto her sister for support. “I can’t.”

“Emylyna, what do you need? You’re scaring me.”

“Call a midwife.”

Emylyna let out a gasp, louder than she desired in this public venue. She lowered herself to the ground, unable to tolerate standing up.

Edith the midwife soon ran to her aid, “Emylyna, what is going on?”

“I can’t, I can’t do anything,” she said, nearly out of breath.

“Let’s get you to a room.”

The pain waxed and waned but was nearly constant as she tried to stand. Suddenly, she felt a large gush of fluid. It ran down her legs. It stained her gown red. Emylyna looked at it in horror. “No,” she screamed.

She couldn’t walk. Lord Lewis picked her up and carried her as she convulsed in pain.

Edith spoke calmly in her ear. “My Lady, we need to get this baby out.”

“Get Elsbeth Quinn. She said to tell her if there was blood. This is blood.”

“My Lady, we don’t have time.”

As Lord Lewis set her down on a bed, she screamed again, the pain in her pelvis shooting and untolerable. Everything turned dark purple, nearly black. It was all she could see. It was incapacitating. “I think it’s coming.”

Edith checked. “Yes, it’s coming. Take a deep breath and push.”

Emylyna did as instructed.

Edith coached her, “Don’t scream. Push down.”

More fluid came. Agonizing minutes went by. It felt like tearing on her inside, sharp and deep. Her vision was filled with black with white jagged edges that raced through the darkness.

Edith remained calm. “Keep going, my Lady. You are so strong.”

With the next contraction, she felt something expel from within her. She waited for the cries of her newborn, but they did not come. Emylyna could tell by the midwife’s expression that something was wrong.

Then she saw it. There was a large egg that rested like a stone on the bed. Everyone suppressed gasps of disbelief. It began trembling. A small piece of the shell cracked and broke off. A yellow curled claw emerged through the opening. A scaly nub of translucent skin with purple and blue veins emerged. The onlookers were frozen. The creature stretched its pointed foot and more of the shell came away. A fledgling wing unfolded and the great arch of its back flexed in its becoming. Little by little it shed its former home and flashed each of the Khaiseans its shiny newborn scales. It looked deep into their souls with its otherworldly ice blue eyes.

This was how Zaemmeorth, the dragon soon to be called Icebreath, was born.