Crucial Calls for Courage.

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Until the day they crawled out of hiding.

A dead dragon, first mistaken for a large camel, was found right outside my village. Surely would attract more.

Now’s my chance, I thought. I abandoned the lessons stacked on my writing desk and blew out my oil lamp. A plan was forming. If this were to be done now, it had to be carried out stealthily. I sneaked past Analese, the smell of her region-famous bread wafting down the corridor after my hurrying feet. The long layers of my dress almost caused me to trip as I shimmied towards the cellar where we kept delicious wine for parties. The far corner of the underground space held several rows of wine; a sentinel always at the ready. This particular section was only used on special occasions or whenever we had visitors lounging around the castle. Neither occured often anymore.

I reached for the top of the corner wine rack and twisted one of the corks. Instead of popping off and spilling wine all over the stone landing, a chain whirred out, creating the perfect handhold for me to yank, lifting a hidden lever on the other side of the wall. I tugged hard, eager with anticipation. Slowly, a squeak from within quieted and a wooden door swung open. On the other side was a fortress of iron and stone. The floor and the bottom half of the wall were lined with large, smooth boulders. Iron bars hung from the ceiling dangling the weapons just above my eyes's height. Perfect. I grabbed a spear closest to me, along with a couple others. The spear was my preferred weapon because it was easy to handle and quick to respond. The trick which enhanced this particular piece included an explosion of deadly fireworks and hidden compartments with poison powder. Under just the right circumstances I might use magic to weave the situation towards the better, but I preferred to leave magic alone, for the most part. Better to develop the person over the powers. This is perfect for whatever is coming, I told myself. Dragons never fly alone. There are always more. They are coming. No doubt about that.

"Cassidy!" I made an effort not to jerk my head around at the sound of my brother's voice. "There's no way he'll let you." Two sets of footsteps. I spun around and drew myself up to my full height, still nearly two feet beneath my sibling's towering frame.

His sidekick, inseperable since birth, leaned in towards me. "Casssss..." Marco purred, and tousled my short hair, a source of contention with some. I wrinkled my nose at him, ignoring the hint of humor in his voice.

"What in Pinnacle are you thinking?" my brother protested, grabbing the spear from my hand and spinning it around in front of my face. I didn’t shift away as I felt the whoosh of the spin against my nose.

"Pinnacle Valley needs me!" Even if it was a stupid name. The juxtaposition of the title was intended to instill confidence in our little village. My heart beat within my chest. Really, it's these people-- "Our father trusts me. Besides, what has all this training been for if I am to just sit on the sidelines watching all of you?" I reached for the spear, fruitlessly. "They'll never expect it. It's perfect!"

"It's suicide," my brother countered. "This is a war not even one of our oldest warriers has ever seen. Mother would have never allowed this.” The reference stung. Since my mother went missing, everything was focused on war and moving the country forward. "Protect the land and continue the progress." This motto had been ingrained in both of us by my father throughout our entire childhood. Even during bedtime stories I was constantly fed a diet of “protection for the people” and “progress for the coming the centuries”. The sentiment echoed throughout my teen years as well when I received superb, detailed training. I excelled at all my lessons, but until this day I had only been allowed to use my defense attacks with friends who parried quicker than I.

"We can't live in fear!" I argued.

"We have to. It's the only way we will live. Stay!" He pointed at me accusingly, the final command reminding me of a well-trained dog. He slammed the door in my face and the bolt clicked into place, a final warning. I was stuck. Yet I wouldn’t be swayed that easily. What else can I use? They can't keep me here. I tied my skirt around my knees and tugged at the curtain in the window until the material hung down in front of me. A path to the outside world. Okay, let's try this. Grabbing one end of the makeshift ladder, I heaved with all my might to raise my bodyweight off the ground. I inched my feet up, to no avail. My hands slid down the rope of the drawstring and I collided with the floor, gaining only rope burns and a bruised ego. I stood up, barely stopping to dust myself off, and waved my hand. I tended to find magic as a waste when I could “clever” my way out of situations. But deperate times...

The rope snaked towards me, hovering just enough where I could loop my foot into the end. It raised me just to the edge of the tiny window above, peeking up outside the level ground and I stuck my leg out of the opening. My journey wasn't finished. If I was going to win this challenge, I was going to go all the way. One day, I might even become General myself.

I scrambled out and continued climbing the stone, grasping onto the side of the palace niches, the expertise of previous midnight ventures helping to expertly guide me up the side, heave myself over the topmost parapet, and gaze across the range of our kingdom. The almost-man who was usually stationed here was out for the next ten minutes. My best friend was all but reliable in his sneaked mid-day breaks. That lack of attention worked to my advantage today. I breathed in the musky air, being sure to remain just below the sight line of the fellow tower guard. The Valley had created a hollow for the old village up until now, a shelter from the dangers surrounding them. I couldn't help but wonder if it had also kept the outside knowledge from penetrating their ranks; understanding they might need in the impending battle. It was time to ask Hermes. His real name was Louis II, or Louis the Second, just called "Hermes" by my sister and me, as we grew to include him in our fantastical stories of faraway myths.

Surveying the land was an old trick, but I knew just what to focus on and how to scan effectively to double check my own work. The sun was shining with the usual orange glow on the flora of snapdragons, sunflowers, and bluebonnets. The grasses were barely coming in after last week’s storm. Everything had been washed down river and lookouts had walked their usual routes, searching for fresh vegetation for the zorses, a combination of breeds between horses and zebras. The troop currently roaming was with was armed to the hilt. In a time of war, one can never be too cautious. A dead dragon. There had to be more. The sharp crags expertly hid the town's guarding Centaurs poised to gallop away for further aide or to head toward the town if their wisdom was needed. The trees buzzed with frantic wings of birds and the chirping of deceptively harmless-looking feathered friends. Would it be their signal that should warn us of beasts in the sky? Even the ground moles, who had for centuries maintained the power of speech, stood sentinal for any ground attacks. So how did the dead dragon penetrate our land? There was a breach somewhere. Somehow our defenses had been weakened.

Time for a new plan. Playing lookout was not the answer. I tugged at the tower's door, creating an opening just big enough for me to slide through, so as not to attract the attention of the mirroring tower's lookout. I slid on the bannister around the stairs, jumping off just at the bottom and shaking the dizzying effect from my eyes. Here it was. The cellar. Out of habit I glanced around for my brother's prying eyes and, seeing no one, slid open the secret door for a second time and waited with breathless anticipation for it to click softly behind me.

I grabbed the giant flag on the wall and yanked at the corner, revealing a powder that was debilitating if swallowed or smashed into the eyes. Fleetingly I considered the ramifications for stuffing this into my brother's eyes. Just a little bit. No, I must focus. There was real imminent danger and those family conversations must happen later. I pried open the corner trap door, apparently not used in a while because of the straining effort. I grunted and jammed my shoulder into the ceiling, feeling both strong and foolish at the same time. Hair hung in my face and a rip cratered through the material of my dress. The barrier gave way after several shoves. Then I nearly flew out as the trap door slammed against the ground above me. I crouched, a little lightheaded, face to face with a scaley animal, either black or dark purple, with a tail flicking back and forth, large eyes, horrible breath, and teeth bared right next to my nose. It was larger than me, but smaller than a bear.

A baby dragon. I tried to scream and something behind me jerked me to my feet, yanking the air out of my lungs. I raised my knife, clicking the end for the side spikes when they shot out behind my shoulder and fell to the ground. I had certainly not ignited them yet. Magic. I stared at the broken peices, and then at the dragon's snout. Did it just step closer?

This is not good.

"This is not good," echoed my words through another voice. "You've just interrupted my conversation." Before I could even gasp out a retort, a flash sliced towards me. This was no ordinary dragon. And did the voice say, “conversation”?