The Dragon’s Song

I opened my weary eyes and looked around my sparse bedroom. The wardrobe held my spare clothes and shoes. A polished glass mirror hung on the wall above my wash basin. Beneath the bed, the chamber pot waited--- something I'd have to deal with before starting the day. It was Choosing Day. The day when unpartnered dragons visited my village to see if anyone might be their match---to become a dragon warrior, to serve and protect our shared home and country. The requirements are both simple and not so simple: One: You must be the age of majority--at least 25 years old. Two: You must be willing to live and work with the dragons, even if it means leaving your home village for a time. Three: You must be able to bespeak dragons silently, as they do with us. Most people can hear the dragons’ silent speech, though not everyone can. My father cannot, though he respected them deeply. But the hardest requirement of all was this: you had to be able to hear the dragon’s song. Each dragon carried a unique melody, and though many might hear it, the choice of partner always belonged to the dragon. To be chosen was both an honor and a danger. Dragon warriors defended our people from enemies, riding into battle on their partner's back. It was a life bound by duty to king and country. Yet it was also about family and love. The bond between dragon and rider was so deep that warriors often found true love as well-- sometimes with another warrior, sometimes with a craftsman, and sometimes with an ordinary villager. That was the kind of love my parents shared. My father, a skilled leatherworker, supplied armor, saddles, and tack for dragon warriors. It was through this work that he met my mother-- a dragon warrior herself. Her dragon, Bellisama, had been part of my life since birth. Bellisama's scales shimmered a deep bluish green and her eyes glowed the stormy gray of gathering thunder. She had carried me aloft countless times, and in many ways, she had helped raise me. As I sat up in my four-poster bed, I looked out the window into our courtyard. Bellisama rested there, waiting patiently for my mother. As leader of the local dragon warriors, my mother held an important role in the Choosing-- more master of ceremonies than participant. Before I could think further about the day ahead, my mother's voice rang up the stairs. "Missy, time to get up, or you'll be late!" "I'm coming, Ma!' I called back, climbing out of bed and gathering my things. "What's for breakfast?" "Your Pa fetched fresh eggs from the hens, and I'm frying up sausage now," she replied. "You'll need the energy-- it's going to be a long day." As I washed and dressed, another voice stirred within my mind, old and deep as the mountains themselves. Are you excited? Bellisama's voice resonated through my mind. Today may be the day you continue your mother's legacy. I know you would make any dragon a wonderful partner-- you've helped care for me since before you could speak. I looked to the window and found one of her storm-gray eyes peering back at me. She had been watching, as she always had. "I'm ready as I'll ever be," I whispered back. And with that, I straightened my clothes, took a steadying breath, and went downstairs to face the day.