dragon bard (beta)
Chapter four: makina stalksong
This is a work in progress, meant for newsletter subscribers only! Please keep the link private, and excuse any typos, etc--fully edited book to come fall 2021!
Makina pushed through the scaled curtain, night air fresh on her face after the stale heat of the hut and its dragons. Above, the celestial rings arced across the sky, casting a pale silvery light over the gardens and stables and the patiently unwinding spindle, driving the lull now that the wind had died.
Makina took a deep breath, willing her heart to settle from her talk with Alumag. Long breath in, long breath out, long pause between: the cadence of calm. Good for long waits, decision-making, and masking emotions in confrontation, she could still hear Adjutor Howet saying. Also ambushes.
To her left, the nesting mare gave a low trumpet, and Makina noticed a fresh trail of cooling lava leading from the far side of the cavern into the iron brood pen. She should have noticed that right away. Shouldn’t have been rattled at all. She was getting rusty. Long breath in, long out, long pause. Another hatchling born. Good. She would check on it, once she’d settled. For now, she let the long breaths guide her backwards, like she’d been taught, tracing her emotions like lines of lava back to the holes from which they’d come, abandoning those that led only to rock, following those that stayed hot down into the magma.
Was it Alumag’s news of a rebel congress? No—she was concerned for their safety, and didn't want more imperial intervention on the ice, but the congress would have little effect this far south. Was she upset about the feral dragon attacks the bard had spoken of, then? Yes, there was some fear there, but she doubted their caldera would be targeted, with just a handful of dragons. Another line of lava cooled. She went back, breathing deep, to follow the next. The bard had wanted her to attend the congress, which in itself was fine—he could want whatever he wanted, she still wasn’t going. But in talking about it, he’d implied she was more than a simple settler.
And he’d done it in front of Kaden.
There. There was the heat, the hole down into the magma of her emotions. Long inhale, long exhale, long pause. She didn't think Kaden had noticed, or if he had, he’d forgotten it in his excitement to hear Alumag sing, and then to play the man’s lute. Notes tinkled from the inside of their hexagonal main chamber, one of the fast-paced songs he’d written, set to the dragonlull at a triple pace. He’d written it for that twit of a girl in the next caldera over, unless she missed her mark. Yelia? The girl was barely sixteen and already had babies in her eyes.
Long breaths. No, Kaden had likely forgotten Alumag’s words, but she couldn't count on that for much longer. He was losing the naiveté of growing up sheltered, and that was good—she couldn't keep him in this tiny caldera forever. It was actually really a help when he visited neighboring settlements, as she would rather avoid the prying questions of her neighbors. Alumag had not been prying. He knew. But so long as she didn't go to the congress, it should end there. If the man hadn't brought it up directly here, in the privacy of their home, she doubted he would raise it elsewhere, and heavens knew he had his own past to outlive. You would think he’d use a little more tact.
Makina exhaled. That was that, then. It would be fine, unless Kaden had caught more than she’d thought.
Heart settled, Makina walked toward the brooding pen, noting that the mother had pushed the gate open to let the new hatchling in. Likely with a flick of her tail, though Makina had to use her whole body strength to shift the thick iron wall. She might be losing her edge out here, but she had never lost her respect for the dragons and their power, held in check with a fragile rhythm.
Makina peeked inside. The mother lay on the far side of the pen now, four hatchlings tucked one each into the joints between her limbs and body, feeding on her heat. A circle of frost spread across the rock around them, testament to the amount of heat the mare was drawing from the ground to feed her young. She would have to stop at some point, would have to trust the hatchlings to use their own strange abilities to feed themselves from the heat of the earth, but Makina understood the urge. Anything she could do to make life easier for her children, she would. Even if she knew they could handle it on their own.
Behind her, the tinkling of the lute stopped. Makina took a sharp breath, turning away from the mare. There was only one reason Kaden would stop playing such a special instrument, and it did not bode well.
She turned, seeing his tall outline duck from the hut, layers of hanging scales clacking behind him as the curtain settled back into place.
“How does she look?” he asked, his words naturally falling into the rhythm of the lull.
“Another hatchling came up. They look fine.”
Kaden looked in, pursing his lips. “They’ll want a bigger pen tomorrow. Those hatchlings need to move, but Tenslope won't want them out of her sight.”
“You didn't come out here to give me advice on dragon herding,” Makina said, trying to find her way back to calmness. Here was the fear she’d found at the end of her magma trail. The one soft spot in her exterior. How did Kaden always have a way of going right to it?
“The Congress,” her son said. “In Portown, that the bard was talking about? It didn't sound like you wanted to go.”
“I don't think it's a good idea,” she said, trying to sound casual. “They’re just asking for trouble. They’re fools, to meet so openly. The Empress doesn’t look kindly on dissent.”
“Unless cooler heads prevail,” Kaden said. “That's what the bard said, right? So what if…”
“Alumag,” she said. “His name is Alumag. He hasn’t been a bard, or the bard, for a long time. And no. I’m not going, and you’re not going.” She could feel the magma welling inside. The mother’s urge to slam the pen shut and keep her hatchling in. Keep him safe.
“Mom. There are going to be a ton of people there. The empire’s not going to come and kill us all for having an open meeting. Anyways, we need to gather information, right? To stay safe. That’s what you always say.”
Damn it. The kid was getting too clever by half, using her own words against her. “Sometimes the price of the information is too high.”
“Well it’s not, this time.”
She drew herself up, wishing for the thousandth time that she came up past his shoulders. He had his father’s height. “It is. Trust me.”
“Look, we need supplies anyway. We’re out of sugar, we need fresh leather to patch the pulley, and we’ve still got harvested bones to sell. I won’t even go to the congress. I’ll just do our business in town, and find out what they said. I’ll be fine.”
She couldn’t help a swell of pride. It was a good argument, and a decent plan. He likely would be safe, if he actually stayed away from the congress. If. But there was no way to say that without sounding untrusting, and no way to contradict his argument without undercutting all the things she’d taught him.
Except one. The thing she’d been trying to avoid from the beginning. Makina took a long breath, calm long gone, heart sinking into that hot well of fear inside. “You’re right, Kaden. One of us does need to go. But I’m better suited for this. I’ll leave in the morning.”
He opened his mouth and she held up a hand, pleased to see the gesture still worked. “Please. You’ve learned well, and I would trust you anywhere on the ice, but Portown is different. It’s not the ice, or the old world for that matter. It’s a halfway house of people trying to profit on both, scalping the migrants coming in and robbing the settlers when we try to sell our goods. I’ll go, but that means you’ll need to handle the caldera by yourself. Watch Tenslope for more hatchlings, keep the lull running, take care of any travelers that come.”
He brightened at this last, and Makina stifled a sigh. Yelia Snowslilt would be one of the visitors, no doubt. But if it kept him from exposing his neck in a fool rebel congress in Portown, it was the lesser of the two evils. Children were hard to conceive on the ice, anyway.
She eyed him, trying to make staying seem like a bigger responsibility. “You can handle all that?”
He nodded. “But I can still go, mom. I can handle it.”
“Prove to me you can handle the caldera for the tenday I’ll be gone.” It was twice as long as she’d ever left him before. Deep breaths. “Then we’ll talk about you going to Portown. Okay?”
He flexed his neck, a thing he’d started doing when he wasn’t happy. “Okay.”
How much longer could she bully him like this? Makina tried on a smile. “Don’t you have a famous lute to be playing anyway? Do it well enough and maybe Alumag will want to learn one of your songs to carry to the next town over.”
The light came back in his eyes, and he turned back for the hut. Yes, he was still too young for a rebel congress in Portown, whatever he thought. At that painful age where all the gears in his mind were finally working, and it made him think he knew everything. Another year, maybe. If she could keep him here for another year, maybe he’d be able to handle himself when he left to apprentice in another caldera, or make the journey across the waters, or whatever he chose to do.
Makina turned back to the pen, intending to close it, and it was again a measure of how rusty she’d gotten that it took her a second to notice the darkness. Not a cloud passing over the rings—too dark for that, and too sudden. It was already passing by the time she spun, looking up to catch just the finned point of a massive tail passing in silhouette against the rings. A feral dragon—it had to be, to grow that size—and flying low. They were not that uncommon down here, this close to the unsettled interior, but always in distance, or well up in the sky.
A shiver passed through her, despite the heat radiating from the pen. Some settlers would call it an omen, no doubt, though she didn’t know for what. She didn’t believe in omens anyway—you made your own luck, guided by Kalia’s truth—but still all the heat in her belly was gone, leaving a cold knot. She watched the dragon fly on, never wavering, a patch of blackness against the faint blanket of stars. Probably nothing. Certainly less dangerous to Kaden than sending him to Portown. But for a place she’d come to escape the dangers pressing her in the old world, she couldn’t help feeling she’d found new ones to take their place. Truths send her old ones didn’t show up in Portown too.
Makina took a deep breath, willing her heart to settle from her talk with Alumag. Long breath in, long breath out, long pause between: the cadence of calm. Good for long waits, decision-making, and masking emotions in confrontation, she could still hear Adjutor Howet saying. Also ambushes.
To her left, the nesting mare gave a low trumpet, and Makina noticed a fresh trail of cooling lava leading from the far side of the cavern into the iron brood pen. She should have noticed that right away. Shouldn’t have been rattled at all. She was getting rusty. Long breath in, long out, long pause. Another hatchling born. Good. She would check on it, once she’d settled. For now, she let the long breaths guide her backwards, like she’d been taught, tracing her emotions like lines of lava back to the holes from which they’d come, abandoning those that led only to rock, following those that stayed hot down into the magma.
Was it Alumag’s news of a rebel congress? No—she was concerned for their safety, and didn't want more imperial intervention on the ice, but the congress would have little effect this far south. Was she upset about the feral dragon attacks the bard had spoken of, then? Yes, there was some fear there, but she doubted their caldera would be targeted, with just a handful of dragons. Another line of lava cooled. She went back, breathing deep, to follow the next. The bard had wanted her to attend the congress, which in itself was fine—he could want whatever he wanted, she still wasn’t going. But in talking about it, he’d implied she was more than a simple settler.
And he’d done it in front of Kaden.
There. There was the heat, the hole down into the magma of her emotions. Long inhale, long exhale, long pause. She didn't think Kaden had noticed, or if he had, he’d forgotten it in his excitement to hear Alumag sing, and then to play the man’s lute. Notes tinkled from the inside of their hexagonal main chamber, one of the fast-paced songs he’d written, set to the dragonlull at a triple pace. He’d written it for that twit of a girl in the next caldera over, unless she missed her mark. Yelia? The girl was barely sixteen and already had babies in her eyes.
Long breaths. No, Kaden had likely forgotten Alumag’s words, but she couldn't count on that for much longer. He was losing the naiveté of growing up sheltered, and that was good—she couldn't keep him in this tiny caldera forever. It was actually really a help when he visited neighboring settlements, as she would rather avoid the prying questions of her neighbors. Alumag had not been prying. He knew. But so long as she didn't go to the congress, it should end there. If the man hadn't brought it up directly here, in the privacy of their home, she doubted he would raise it elsewhere, and heavens knew he had his own past to outlive. You would think he’d use a little more tact.
Makina exhaled. That was that, then. It would be fine, unless Kaden had caught more than she’d thought.
Heart settled, Makina walked toward the brooding pen, noting that the mother had pushed the gate open to let the new hatchling in. Likely with a flick of her tail, though Makina had to use her whole body strength to shift the thick iron wall. She might be losing her edge out here, but she had never lost her respect for the dragons and their power, held in check with a fragile rhythm.
Makina peeked inside. The mother lay on the far side of the pen now, four hatchlings tucked one each into the joints between her limbs and body, feeding on her heat. A circle of frost spread across the rock around them, testament to the amount of heat the mare was drawing from the ground to feed her young. She would have to stop at some point, would have to trust the hatchlings to use their own strange abilities to feed themselves from the heat of the earth, but Makina understood the urge. Anything she could do to make life easier for her children, she would. Even if she knew they could handle it on their own.
Behind her, the tinkling of the lute stopped. Makina took a sharp breath, turning away from the mare. There was only one reason Kaden would stop playing such a special instrument, and it did not bode well.
She turned, seeing his tall outline duck from the hut, layers of hanging scales clacking behind him as the curtain settled back into place.
“How does she look?” he asked, his words naturally falling into the rhythm of the lull.
“Another hatchling came up. They look fine.”
Kaden looked in, pursing his lips. “They’ll want a bigger pen tomorrow. Those hatchlings need to move, but Tenslope won't want them out of her sight.”
“You didn't come out here to give me advice on dragon herding,” Makina said, trying to find her way back to calmness. Here was the fear she’d found at the end of her magma trail. The one soft spot in her exterior. How did Kaden always have a way of going right to it?
“The Congress,” her son said. “In Portown, that the bard was talking about? It didn't sound like you wanted to go.”
“I don't think it's a good idea,” she said, trying to sound casual. “They’re just asking for trouble. They’re fools, to meet so openly. The Empress doesn’t look kindly on dissent.”
“Unless cooler heads prevail,” Kaden said. “That's what the bard said, right? So what if…”
“Alumag,” she said. “His name is Alumag. He hasn’t been a bard, or the bard, for a long time. And no. I’m not going, and you’re not going.” She could feel the magma welling inside. The mother’s urge to slam the pen shut and keep her hatchling in. Keep him safe.
“Mom. There are going to be a ton of people there. The empire’s not going to come and kill us all for having an open meeting. Anyways, we need to gather information, right? To stay safe. That’s what you always say.”
Damn it. The kid was getting too clever by half, using her own words against her. “Sometimes the price of the information is too high.”
“Well it’s not, this time.”
She drew herself up, wishing for the thousandth time that she came up past his shoulders. He had his father’s height. “It is. Trust me.”
“Look, we need supplies anyway. We’re out of sugar, we need fresh leather to patch the pulley, and we’ve still got harvested bones to sell. I won’t even go to the congress. I’ll just do our business in town, and find out what they said. I’ll be fine.”
She couldn’t help a swell of pride. It was a good argument, and a decent plan. He likely would be safe, if he actually stayed away from the congress. If. But there was no way to say that without sounding untrusting, and no way to contradict his argument without undercutting all the things she’d taught him.
Except one. The thing she’d been trying to avoid from the beginning. Makina took a long breath, calm long gone, heart sinking into that hot well of fear inside. “You’re right, Kaden. One of us does need to go. But I’m better suited for this. I’ll leave in the morning.”
He opened his mouth and she held up a hand, pleased to see the gesture still worked. “Please. You’ve learned well, and I would trust you anywhere on the ice, but Portown is different. It’s not the ice, or the old world for that matter. It’s a halfway house of people trying to profit on both, scalping the migrants coming in and robbing the settlers when we try to sell our goods. I’ll go, but that means you’ll need to handle the caldera by yourself. Watch Tenslope for more hatchlings, keep the lull running, take care of any travelers that come.”
He brightened at this last, and Makina stifled a sigh. Yelia Snowslilt would be one of the visitors, no doubt. But if it kept him from exposing his neck in a fool rebel congress in Portown, it was the lesser of the two evils. Children were hard to conceive on the ice, anyway.
She eyed him, trying to make staying seem like a bigger responsibility. “You can handle all that?”
He nodded. “But I can still go, mom. I can handle it.”
“Prove to me you can handle the caldera for the tenday I’ll be gone.” It was twice as long as she’d ever left him before. Deep breaths. “Then we’ll talk about you going to Portown. Okay?”
He flexed his neck, a thing he’d started doing when he wasn’t happy. “Okay.”
How much longer could she bully him like this? Makina tried on a smile. “Don’t you have a famous lute to be playing anyway? Do it well enough and maybe Alumag will want to learn one of your songs to carry to the next town over.”
The light came back in his eyes, and he turned back for the hut. Yes, he was still too young for a rebel congress in Portown, whatever he thought. At that painful age where all the gears in his mind were finally working, and it made him think he knew everything. Another year, maybe. If she could keep him here for another year, maybe he’d be able to handle himself when he left to apprentice in another caldera, or make the journey across the waters, or whatever he chose to do.
Makina turned back to the pen, intending to close it, and it was again a measure of how rusty she’d gotten that it took her a second to notice the darkness. Not a cloud passing over the rings—too dark for that, and too sudden. It was already passing by the time she spun, looking up to catch just the finned point of a massive tail passing in silhouette against the rings. A feral dragon—it had to be, to grow that size—and flying low. They were not that uncommon down here, this close to the unsettled interior, but always in distance, or well up in the sky.
A shiver passed through her, despite the heat radiating from the pen. Some settlers would call it an omen, no doubt, though she didn’t know for what. She didn’t believe in omens anyway—you made your own luck, guided by Kalia’s truth—but still all the heat in her belly was gone, leaving a cold knot. She watched the dragon fly on, never wavering, a patch of blackness against the faint blanket of stars. Probably nothing. Certainly less dangerous to Kaden than sending him to Portown. But for a place she’d come to escape the dangers pressing her in the old world, she couldn’t help feeling she’d found new ones to take their place. Truths send her old ones didn’t show up in Portown too.
