Phoenix Destiny

Six

With a nod, the General rode off to join the others in the village. Those that remained pitched tents and shared a quiet meal. Though he pitched a tent, Jaron planned to sleep under the stars. After his meal, Jaron led Gambler away from camp, glad that they were still near the forest. He passed through the village, making a slow circuit to the forest.

“Have you thought about what I said?” a voice asked as the sprite appeared in Gambler's saddle. Jaron stared at the creature as if not comprehending its presence.

“Artac—”

“Careful,” the sprite warned.

“Jester?”

Jaron turned toward the voice and saw Dorrall and others milling in the street. They were already drunk though the night had yet to truly fall. The soldiers stumbled as they walked across the dirt path.

“Who are you talking to, jester?” the flushed soldier laughed. “I think those bells are in your head?”

Jaron looked at the sprite still seated in the saddle as the soldiers taunted him.

“They cannot see or hear me. Nor can they even fathom my presence or being,” Artac said in a low voice. “I think it is best if you turn around and leave them to their self-destructive ways.”

A knot twisting his gut at the goading, Jaron followed the sprite’s advice. He led Gambler out of the village and into the forest. Once safely out of sight, he stopped to face the sprite.

“Why didn’t you tell me others can’t see you?”

“You never asked,” the sprite lounged in the saddle.

“So, you are invisible?”

“As much or as little as I choose to be.”

“I am tired of your riddles.”

“Fine,” Artac sighed. “To see a Fay, one must possess Fay Sight. Without such, I must go to considerable lengths and magic to make myself visible for even a few moments. Quite frankly, I don’t think it’s worth the effort.”

“Then why are you always disappearing if they can’t see you anyway?”

“I do as I choose.”

“So, I possess this Fay Sight?”

“Yes, mind you, not nearly as keen as her Royal Highness, Princess Alexis. But she is directly descended from the Fay. You are not.”

“She’s descended from Fay?”

“The third Queen of Milagros was half-Fay,” Artac answered, as if it was common knowledge. “Queen Akina also possesses some Fay blood, though I don’t know the genealogy. The Fay blood is thin now, but it is there. Her Royal Highness is special in many ways.”

“So, I noticed,” Jaron continued down the path.

“How does it feel to have touched something other men only dream of? A dream shared by your new soldier friends, even Dorrall.”

Jaron froze and turned back to the sprite. He glared at the sprite as his face warmed and said, “I thought you couldn’t read minds.”

“You would be surprised how many men talk in their sleep or what they brag about while drunk. So, how did it feel to hold the heart of Nuwa in your arms?”

Jaron clenched his jaw as the sprite calmly met his gaze. At length, he said, “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“She is a princess, royalty of Milagros. I’m a common jester, a General’s pet. It was a mistake.”

Jaron turned away, but the sprite suddenly appeared in front of him. It hung from a tree branch by its tail. The sprite’s eyes glowed red in anger.

“Mistake!” the sprite hissed. “When will you mortals learn? Fate does not make mistakes.”

Before Jaron could answer, the sprite vanished like smoke in the wind. Jaron stood and stared at the place it used to be. Gambler butted him. Unprepared, Jaron fell forward. He caught himself, jamming his palms against the hard turf. Twinges of pain spasmed up his arm.

“Gambler!”

Jaron pushed himself onto his knees and noticed a strange rock nestled in the forest debris. It was perfectly smooth. Its surface was shiny and seemed to glow. He heard strange, muffled chirping sounds and the rock shifted.

Not a rock, he realized, an egg.

The muffled chirps continued and he heard a soft knocking sound. A c***k appeared and enlarged into a small hole. He saw a strange little beak inside, then pushed forward again, chipping away at the shell.

The c***k spread until the egg finally split open and a small, serpentine lizard flopped out. The lizard’s tongue flicked in and out of a mouth lined with needle-like teeth. It blinked yellowish eyes and flexed a pair of ears that looked too big for its head.

Its head seemed too heavy for its small neck. The creature had trouble lifting and holding it up. Emerald-green scales covered its body with larger, yellow scales along its underside. Its tail was long and ended in a spear. Its neck was rather short, as were its four legs. A pair of delicate wings were tightly folded alongside its body, and it appeared unable to move them. Raising its largish head, the little creature looked at Jaron and chirped.

“A baby dragon?” Jaron stared at it.

“Indeed.”

The dragon awkwardly flopped about to face the sprite as it appeared again. Hissing, the dragon laid back its ears. The frills on either side of Artac’s head flattened, then flexed forward as he snorted.

“It doesn’t seem to like you, Artac,” Jaron commented.

“Dragonkind and Fay Folk are natural enemies. From the time we’re born, we possess a hereditary revulsion of each other.”

“You’re not going to try to kill this little one, are you?”

“Of course not. Regardless of our hostility, we can live in peace.”

“Really?” Jaron’s eyes scrutinized the indignant sprite.

“There are no less than two dragons on Milagros who have possession of my true name.”

“Your true name?”

“To possess the true name of a creature of High Magic is to possess power over them. Thus, we guard our names very carefully. As you may have guessed, Artac is not my true name.”

“Yet you gave your name to dragons, your enemies?”

“Such was my gratitude for their noble act of generosity,” The sprite raised its chin in pride. “I am forever in their debt.”

Jaron wondered at the sprite’s confession, but it didn’t seem inclined to explain. Then he turned to the newly hatched dragon as it struggled to operate its short legs and long back.

“I should go, before its mother returns,” he said after a moment.

“An empty gesture. Its mother will not return.”

“What?” Jaron looked at the sprite.

“They imprint upon the first being they see when they hatch. Its mother will not accept it now that it has imprinted on you. If you abandon it, it will die. So, Jaron, what will you do?”

Jaron looked at the dragon, helplessly flopping around. The sprite’s question was pointless. He couldn’t leave it, not if its mother had truly abandoned it.

“Are you sure its mother will not return?”

“She was there, hiding in the trees,” the sprite gestured. “She waited long enough to see it imprint on you. Now, she is gone.”

“You are sure.”

“I am Fay. I can always sense the presence of a dragon.”

“I can’t care for a dragon. You know how large they grow.”

“Castle Dragons do not grow that large. Use your head, only a Castle Dragon would lay such small eggs in a forest.”

The little dragon managed to right itself for a moment before falling and rolling onto its back where it helplessly writhed. Gambler stepped forward and nuzzled the small reptile back onto its belly.

Jaron sighed. He picked up the tiny creature and cradled it in his hands. It gripped his fingers with surprisingly strong, clawed digits. Its claws were smooth and soft, not even strong enough to dig in the earth.

Jaron made camp further down the trail. He took out his traveling rations and offered some to the dragon. The dragon gulped the scraps of dried meat and stale biscuits. Each time Jaron was careful that it didn’t snap his fingers. Unlike its claws, its teeth were fully formed and sharp.

“Careful, little one,” Jaron smiled at the little dragon. It rolled onto its back. He tickled the dragon’s belly with his forefinger. The creature purred. “I guess I should give you a name, or is that not done?”

“It is all right,” Artac appeared near them, and the dragon hissed. “A Castle Dragon is different from larger dragons. You may name it as you wish.”

“I wonder if it is male or female.”

“Female,” the sprite didn’t hesitate in answering.

“How are you so sure?”

“Believe me,” Artac wrinkled his nose. “I know.”

The sprite didn’t offer any further explanation, leaving Jaron to wonder if the smell really was that different between the two genders. With a disgruntled chirp, the dragon gathered its legs underneath and tried to crawl again.

Awkwardly, the dragon stumbled around on the ground as it learned to control its limbs. It raised its feet high in the air before setting them down, which gave it a strange, bobbing gate. Its serpentine tail trailed behind it like a vine.

“She’s like a walking train of ivy,” Jaron leaned over and carefully picked up the curious creature. Its tail wrapped around his wrist to give it more security. “Ivy, that’s a good name for you. What do you think?”

The dragon purred as it stretched its head towards him. Its forked tongue flicked out of its mouth, tickling his nose. Jaron rubbed behind its ear with a forefinger.

“Ivy it is.”

“A more appropriate name than you know.”

“What does that—” Jaron stopped. The sprite was gone again.

Sighing, he lay down with the dragon on his chest. The little reptile yawned and curled up to sleep. Jaron looked at the stars above.

What am I doing adopting a dragon? What do I know about dragons? Surely, Alexis would be a better choice. I wonder what she is doing now…