A Witch's Word

DEX’S ATTENTION

Despite her previous bravado, the walk to the meadow had Edith’s bravery plummeting to her feet, which possibly explained why her steps were so heavy. Treating the heather like waves that swayed beneath her palm, she inhaled deeply to try and center herself. Magic in all its wonderful and various forms spoke to each other, so, in theory, there was no reason why a witch as strong as she and a dragon couldn’t reach an understanding about the higher levels of power that they both held inside of them. Although she had explained this to her husband before, she had failed to mention that this was a complete theory researched from many grimoires and archaic texts that predated the wars. Therefore, since this was the first union in written record between a witch and a dragon, there was no guarantee that she would survive this meeting. Her hand trembled, and her stomach felt untethered, but the most significant sign of her abject terror was her heart, which seemed to have transmuted into a boulder, that was pressing down on her chest as she struggled for her next breath. She would never be able to explain how her feet kept moving further along the meadow. The eyes that watched her were judgmental and doubtful to such an extent that maybe it was better to die by dragon than be cast out of both her old and new family for failure to try and negotiate with a creature of such unpredictable temperament.

Blood-red, vivid, serpentine scales were visible atop of the purple heather where Dex was waiting for his rider, Cadmus, to re-join him. He could smell the presence of a witch but felt no need to rush the inevitable. He had never considered any mate presented to him before as worthy, because the dragons who carried court riders were vain and pretentious, yet he hadn’t given up on the hope of finding a mate who would be his equal. The preposterous idea that he would accept a life without a mate would be laughable, if it weren’t insulting. He kept his eyes closed. Fear was heavy with her approach, and the peace he had found in this meadow was being poisoned by her arrival. This annoyed him further, and he could feel the bubble of heat warming his oesophagus. Finally, her heavy steps stopped, and she kneeled next to him where his head lay. Terror was still the sharp taste on his tongue, but there was a softer undertone that he could single out: respect. Surprisingly, he felt her push something under his claw, and the interest he felt roused him to open his eyes and look at her. Kneeling, but with a straight back and holding eye contact, the striking witch with enflamed hair breathed deeply. She seemed so fragile at his feet, but there was power radiating off her now. She covered her face with her hands and rhythmically moved them in a circular motion as if she were pushing something away from her skin. On the third maneuver, her plain skin filled with beautiful ideograms. Her fear bowed down in the presence of her magical supremacy, and Dex could see her beauty and knowledge. She was a rare find, and Dex was known for his appreciation of uniqueness. Lifting his claw, he looked at the bundle of heather and lavender—a gift of the earth. An old tradition was brought to the front of his mind, one that had died with the ancestors, but he was wise enough to see the witch’s plan.

“A gift from the earth, a secret not heard, and last of all, a service. If these three things be given freely, then a dragon’s attention should be offered completely,' she recited, and Dex was impressed.

She was intelligent, and that quality alone was refreshing when he lived in a court of vain profiteers.

“You haven’t told my prince rider about the level of your skill?” Dex spoke inside her mind, intrigued by the young witch.

“Men do not like to know about the power of women. Your prince rider is no different. A dragon is my equal, and I wouldn’t lie to one who can tap into the earliest magic lines. You are more than a creature; we both understand that. You must protect my secret though; it is my treasure I have given to you,” she warned.

Dex chuckled. He didn’t need a witch to explain this ancient bargain to him. In all the places to find a female to interest him, Sourcero was the last location he would ever have looked the wars still fresh in his mind, but here she was speaking to him as an equal, and he couldn’t deny he was intrigued by the little witch.

“What of my mate witch? Will you conjure me one? I will not take you in place of the one who was made for me.” He growled, disgusted by the idea.

She shook her head, and bowed, lowly.

“Such a thing I cannot do, but I make a promise to help you find her. I do not ask you to accept me as a potential mate, only as a political ally, until our nation’s agreements can be nullified,” she answered. “When you find your mate, I will leave you to your love.”

It seemed she had given this predicament much thought. Impressed that she would consider all aspects of a deal, she would be a fine mate for Cadmus, of that Dex was sure. Where he was brash, she was the balm that would encourage him to contemplate his decisions. Dex blew out a small ring of fire, the shape of a crown and let it hover over her head. She was the princess he recognised…for now. Time would tell if her actions lived up to her words.

Edith felt the soft heat above her head, but it felt comforting. She had the support of Dex, and this would help her immensely when she reached her new home. To share her husband’s dragon was a sign of equality, and the people and lords would have to recognise it. She looked behind her at the hill where she had been joined with Cadmus, but they were too far away for her to see their reactions.

“Come great witch, climb upon my shoulders, and I will make you the first witch princess of Novtexo.” Dex spoke reverently as if he knew the importance of his role.

History was about to be crafted in the memoirs of both countries, and Dex wanted to give her an entrance that the greatest scholars would struggle to express the magnificence of, ever the extrovert. Edith lifted her dress high above her knees and tucked it into the belt she wore around her waist. Sheer determination demarked her features as she looked for the best way to climb up his body.

“You hold onto the edge of each scale and climb up to the seat,” Dex explained, wondering why he felt the need to be unusually helpful.

“I don’t want to hurt you, what if I pull on your scale too hard?” She wondered, considerately.

Although some dragons would have been insulted at the idea that a human would think their scales so weak, Dex recognised the compassion in her. When riders forced their dragons into battle, it was often their insensitivity that got them both killed, but maybe she could help to heal the bond between monster and man, so that everyone could have a relationship like Cadmus and he had. Extending his foot in her direction, he nodded that she should use it so that he could place her where she needed to be. Relief flooded her face and Dex noticed how beautiful she looked with the glow from her fiery crown warming her now less tattooed skin.

“You can never hurt me, unless you don’t meet your side of our bargain. Now, hold onto the scale in front of you and clench your thighs tightly. Keep your head high, I promise to just glide over to our Prince. We must make a statement, for this to be believable,” Dex explained, as he waited for her to follow his instructions.

Edith placed her fingertips over the ridge of the scale before her. She had expected it to be rough like tree bark, hardened over time, but instead it was glossy like warm glass. The colours were flecks of swirling red, mesmerising to look at. Her fingertips could feel a contrasting texture under the scale, almost like a malleable leather. She wondered if this was his flesh or simply the engineering for a dragon who was born to carry a rider. When she had settled, she would possibly ask Cadmus these questions. Before Dex’s wings extended, she felt every imperceptible movement in his body. His long neck extended, looking upward at the sky, his muscles tensed beneath her legs, and she in turn tensed with nervousness.

Ascending into the sky, Edith felt all the weight in her body disappear, the pull that had tethered her to earth for so long suddenly disappeared as she felt the soft breeze caress her cheeks. Dex’s wings fluttered rhythmically like a steady heartbeat, comforting with timed precision. Although Edith felt as if she were soaring high, the brief glance at the fields below her soon displaced this feeling. She was only meters off the ground. Extending his back legs, Dex landed with a thud, which sounded heavy to those listening, but in actual fact had been surprisingly smooth. Above Edith’s head she felt a slight warmth, but it wasn’t until she looked in the reflection of Dex’s scale that she realised her crown was now made of dragon fire. Gasps could be heard, and many of her citizens stepped back in fear of such a colossal beast. Cadmus looked shocked by the success of her meeting with his undiplomatic dragon, but his reaction was placid compared to King Nokon, who repeatedly opened and closed his mouth looking for words that he couldn’t grasp. Reid, on the other hand, stepped forward, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, before taking a knee before his Prince’s mighty monster.

“I give my service to Dex’s choice of Princess for Novtexo. May she ride a thousand years. Long live Princess Edith!” he called out, and the cheers from Edith’s friends, family and enemies were uproarious.

Beside him, Tabitha curtsied lowly, following his example while being stunned at the achievement of her sister.

Abruptly, finding his words, King Nokon looked for signs of foul play, but seeing none, he ordered his men to take flight.

Cadmus was sure-footed as he dashed up Dex’s scales with an easy that reminded Edith that he had probably learnt to ride only months after he had learnt to walk. Cumbersomely, Edith suddenly realised that she was sat in his rider’s seat. Turning to relinquish her position, she lost her balance and could feel herself tilting backwards about to tumble off Dex’s giant back. Before she could use her powers to prevent such an embarrassing scene, Cadmus slid his hand around her waist and restored her balance.

“Don’t move. I’ll have to ride behind you to make sure you keep your seat,” Cadmus instructed. “The ride will be rough.”

Reaching forward, he placed his own hands over Edith’s and pressed his chest against her back in an arrangement that seemed far too experienced and intimate for the young witch’s approval. Wriggling, she was determined to find a more dignified arrangement, before she felt him hold her tighter.

“I’ve never ridden with anyone as an adult before. Dex has never allowed it. I can’t think of another way to ensure that we don’t topple, especially if Dex decides to barrel roll in celebration. Believe me when I say that this isn’t ideal for either of us. I certainly gain no pleasure from this, but for both of our sakes, can you suffer it without moving, because I, for one, don’t want to plummet to my death because you are too frigid to fly safely.”

Edith stopped moving, she didn’t dignify his comments with any reaction at all. Witchcraft often allowed itself the silent upper hand, because while it was possible that Cadmus could fall to his death, in which case she could return home and declare this sacrifice over, unbeknownst to him, she had just the spell in mind to soften any landing from any height with very little effort on her part. She could have extended that magic to her new husband but given his disdain for her, she was more inclined than ever to withhold any intervention from any immediate danger that might come his way.