Mianda
I’d been asleep for an hour after my guard shift when I wake with a pounding pulse to the sound of the alarm horn. In the same chaotic flurry as startled birds taking flight, everyone sleeping leaps to jam on boots, grab weapons, and anchor on the caravan’s perimeter. After that first alarm seventeen camps ago, Kitannia re-wrote our response posture. The caravan guard will hold the front line, and all attendants will move to the ready, creating the appearance of more protection on the caravan, holding weapons despite having no training on them. This tells me how scared Kitannia is about undergoing another, actual attack. Happening again. Right now.
I get to my designated position outside the wagons in under a minute, facing north, and see a large shadow ambling toward us on the beach outside of the R’th light. It enters the R’th’s pool, and scales glow a brilliant crimson up two thick forearms, a wide chest, and up a long, long neck to a horned dragon’s head. Behind the dragon fluctuates a black wave, which, closer, becomes individual Nightmares bearing shields.
A look behind me says Kitannia has come forward of the caravan guard on her horse, watching the approach because she, nor anyone else, can do anything.
The red dragon leading the Nightmares who follow in “V” formation comes within fifty feet of the caravan and stops, rising on her back legs, wings spreading to their fullest.
By my count, there must be a million Nightmares behind her. And for each, an unexpected accessory adorns nearly all of them: a crown hovers above their helmets two inches; a circle base with sharp prongs swirling and coalescing different colors as I watch, reminding me of what I imagine the Dream to look like, from eye-witness descriptions.
The two dragons in Kitannia’s employ — Sobbanraa and Farannraa — transfigure into natural and position their large, heavy bodies on either side of the caravan circle, facing this unknown red.
“Kindred,” thunders Sobbanraa to the red, “You are unknown to us. What is your namesake? And why do you come with unknown hostility?” Sobbanraa also stretches out her yellow wings, the blue Farannraa to her right as well, so the tips of their wings nearly touch above the center of the caravan circle.
The fact Sobbanraa does not know this red — impossible — unsettles me. R’th controls procreation for all living things and limits the giant dragons to a hundred in population. The low population enables all dragons to know each other. But this red dragon, they do not.
The red does not speak. A Nightmare steps from behind her heavy haunches and under her wings into the glow of the R’th rock rimming the caravan circle. The Nightmare removes his helmet which passes through the crown — insubstantial, just like the Dream — and tucks it under his arm.
My sharp intake of breath stabs me.
Of course, the Nightmare is human. Normal. Rough, dark brown stubble prickles his jawline and neck. Flat blond hair tossed into tangles by his helmet. Near my age. Familiar.
“Humans,” he addresses, of which there may have been fifty employed by the caravan, “I am the Unconquered King. Behind me stand the Unconquered. Two years ago, a truth was unveiled to me, and my intent is now to unveil it for you: humans were never meant to be equal to any race. We are directly descended from the Paragons, ruling over all races as kings, who are to serve us. These are our divine roles. I know you each feel it instinctively. I am offering you now to unmask yourselves and receive your Paragon-given birthright. For all other non-humans here, concede to serve us as your kings, or you will die.”
“Thaen!”
The Nightmare-crowned human looks at me. I step far forward than anyone else, even the Caravan Master, an action surprising me, my Dusutri Rage boiling to break free beneath my skin.
His gaze looks me up and down as if trying to pull recognition out of me. “How do you know my name?” he asks in a tone close to the edge of dark.
“It’s me, Thaen.” Brave a second ago, my voice shrinks now. “Mianda Aspenstar. Remember?”
“Mianda!” Thaen grins, looking, just for a second, like that lopsided sixteen-year-old who only ever wanted to be a ranger. “You are especially welcome. Dusutri are our allies.” He reaches his hand out to me.
Terror washes through me, having nominated myself the center of attention on the stage of a thousand eyes. Words of don’t whisper and plead in many tones behind me. Should I pretend allegiance and work to change Thaen’s heart from inside the Nightmares? But then I’d have to stand by silent while he kills my fellow kindred. Should I show him now how wrong he is to promote these damaging ideals?
Should I activate Dusutri Rage and kill him?
The last thought strikes me so powerful I can’t breathe. That fist rises my chest and rams against my heart. Release me! The Rage screams. Release me! I will save you! I will save everyone behind you! I will stop this Nightmare war now by killing their king! Release me! Release me!
Ten heartbeats stutter in my throat before a shuffling to my right brings an elderly human male forward. His name is Gioffer and works the caravan as a retirement pass time. A unified gasp heralds the man’s steps toward Thaen, who smiles and summons him with a wave of his black gauntlet.
Gioffer stops in front of Thaen. Thaen removes the gauntlet on his left hand and holds it out. “Take my hand and swear fealty.”
“Don’t do it!” several caravan members shout.
The man looks at the hand and grasps it. Thaen opens his mouth as if to say something, but the elderly human wrenches Thaen’s hand, and, with a shout, flips Thaen’s body into the earth with a crash of armor. The man jumps on Thaen, but arrows burrow into his body before he gets a single, useless punch into Thaen’s face.
Sputtering curses, Thaen pushes the man’s body off and stands, pinning the rest of us with a souring gaze. “May this first foolish human show you all what happens when you are false.”
“Don’t do this, Thaen,” I plead.
“You can join me,” he says in a soft, almost gentle voice. “We can be friends again.”
He holds my gaze for what feels like the next two years, then looks away. “March them one at a time into the water,” he says to the Nightmares behind him. “Give them the most time possible for them to change their minds.”
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