I left my bike by the railings and climbed the steps to wait. Overhead, a huge full moon peeked through the clouds, keeping silent company. I wondered if the rogue would show; if he would really risk discovery to go flying with a virtual stranger. Maybe he was testing me, gauging how serious I was about breaking the rules, making certain I wouldn’t expose him to Talon. Or maybe he was just playing the stupid hatchling, having a good laugh at her expense.
As the minutes ticked by, that worry grew. I’d checked my watch a dozen times on the way here; one more glance showed that it was fifteen minutes past midnight, with no rogue dragon in sight.
Well, what did you expect, Ember? He’s a rogue after all. Untrust-worthy, just like Talon said.
Angry now, I walked to the end of the pavement and, in defiance of the ocean, hopped over the rails and stood at the very edge, peering into the roiling water.
Wel , now what? Do I go home? Or do I say “screw it” and go flying by myself? The thought was tempting. After all, I’d snuck out, broken curfew, and had come all this way; it seemed a waste to go back home just because some lying stranger wasn’t here like he’d said he would be…A cry echoed over the distant waves, and my heart stopped.
Backing away from the railing, I stood rigid, counting the seconds, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement. The cry came again, closer this time, and I held my breath.
And then, a massive winged creature exploded through the waves beyond the rail, surging into the sky in an eruption of foam. It rose above me, beating the air with powerful wings, the downbeats whipping violently at my hair, before it dropped to the ground with a crash and another bellowing cry.
I staggered back, even as my dragon surged up with a joyful shriek, nearly bursting out of my skin. I barely kept myself from Shifting right then and pouncing on the stranger just ten feet away.
He was older than me, probably by a couple decades, given his size.
Dragons aged slower than humans and remained hatchlings until our fiftieth year, when we became young adults. In my true form, I topped out at maybe five hundred pounds, about the size of a large tiger. This dragon had a few hundred pounds on me, all sleek muscle and sinew, and though he wasn’t nearly as huge as a full-grown, bus-sized adult, he was still impressive. His scales were a deep navy blue, the color of the ocean depths, and his eyes gleamed a brilliant gold in the darkness. A sail-like fin ran from between sweeping ebony horns, all the way to the tip of his slinky tail. Which he wrapped around his clawed feet as he sat down, cat-like, and watched me.
I gazed up into the narrow, scaly face, and realized he was smirking at me. Looking very Riley-like, even in dragon form. Annoyance quickly replaced excitement, and I crossed my arms. Here I was, gaping like a stunned human at my own kind. If Dante knew, he’d never let me live it down.
“That was quite the entrance,” I said, only now realizing that I was completely soaked from the explosion of seawater caused by beating dragon wings. Which were now folded neatly over his back now, dripping puddles onto the rock. “Would you like me to applaud?”
The dragon—Riley—grinned, showing a set of sharp white fangs.
“Did you like that, Firebrand?” he rumbled, his voice low and mocking, and if I’d had any doubts that this was the same rogue, they would be gone now. “Frankly, I wasn’t expecting you to show.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
“I guess not. Though it’s nice to hear you haven’t forgotten everything about being a dragon.”
He’d been speaking in Draconic, I realized, the native language of all our kind. I’d grown up speaking Draconic, only learning English when our human education had begun, years later. I hadn’t been answering in Draconic, because not only did the language consist of verbal communication, but many words and phrases required complex and subtle nuances to get the point across. It was physically impossible for the human body to mimic important things like tail position and pupil width, so speaking flawless Draconic in human form wasn’t possible. But I understood it perfectly.
“You’re one to talk,” I challenged. “You’re the rogue, the one who abandoned everything Talon stands for. Are you even going to tell me your real name? Or was that just a lie to get me out here?”
“It wasn’t,” the rogue said mildly. “My real name is Cobalt, or it is when I’m in this form. And don’t spout Talon’s garbage at me. I’ve forgotten more about Talon then you’ll ever know, hatchling.”
“Rnesh karr slithis,” I hissed back, which was Draconic for eat your own tail, the dragon version of go screw yourself. No extra transla-tion needed.
He laughed. “Ouch. Language, Firebrand.” The rogue rose to his feet like a cat and spread his wings. Leathery and blue-black, they cast a dark shadow over me and the rocky ground, making me feel small beneath them. “So, are you all hot air and talk?” Cobalt wondered, and his head rose on a long graceful neck to look down his snout at me. “Or are we actually going to fly?”
I raised my chin, feeling my dragon squirming with excitement, with impatience. Turning, I walked a few paces away and then spun back, breathing deep. But I noticed the blue dragon still watching me from the edge of the cliff, wearing that careless grin. I scowled at him.
“Uh, a little privacy, please?” I snapped, and the rogue blinked in surprise. I tapped my foot and waited, but he didn’t seem to get the hint. “Okay, I’ll be a bit more clear. Turn around.”
He cocked his head, frowning. “Why?”
“Because I’m not going to ruin a perfectly good pair of shorts when I change, and I don’t feel like biking home in the nude.” He still looked baffled, and I rolled my eyes. “I’m taking off my clothes, genius, but I’m not here to give you a show. So, turn around.”
“You do realize that we are both dragons, right? I don’t care about your human concerns of modesty.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I do.” I crossed my arms, staring him down. He glowered back. Maybe I was being “too human,” but my old instructors had pounded modesty into my head at school, claiming that we could not prance around buck na**d in normal society, even if we never wore clothes in our natural forms. “Glare all you want, but I’m not Shifting a hair if you’re watching me. So if you want me to go flying anywhere with you tonight, turn around!”
With a snort, the blue dragon stood and, with a display of great dignity, turned around. Sitting with his back to me, he curled his tail around himself again and turned his snout toward the ocean.
As the minutes ticked by, that worry grew. I’d checked my watch a dozen times on the way here; one more glance showed that it was fifteen minutes past midnight, with no rogue dragon in sight.
Well, what did you expect, Ember? He’s a rogue after all. Untrust-worthy, just like Talon said.
Angry now, I walked to the end of the pavement and, in defiance of the ocean, hopped over the rails and stood at the very edge, peering into the roiling water.
Wel , now what? Do I go home? Or do I say “screw it” and go flying by myself? The thought was tempting. After all, I’d snuck out, broken curfew, and had come all this way; it seemed a waste to go back home just because some lying stranger wasn’t here like he’d said he would be…A cry echoed over the distant waves, and my heart stopped.
Backing away from the railing, I stood rigid, counting the seconds, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement. The cry came again, closer this time, and I held my breath.
And then, a massive winged creature exploded through the waves beyond the rail, surging into the sky in an eruption of foam. It rose above me, beating the air with powerful wings, the downbeats whipping violently at my hair, before it dropped to the ground with a crash and another bellowing cry.
I staggered back, even as my dragon surged up with a joyful shriek, nearly bursting out of my skin. I barely kept myself from Shifting right then and pouncing on the stranger just ten feet away.
He was older than me, probably by a couple decades, given his size.
Dragons aged slower than humans and remained hatchlings until our fiftieth year, when we became young adults. In my true form, I topped out at maybe five hundred pounds, about the size of a large tiger. This dragon had a few hundred pounds on me, all sleek muscle and sinew, and though he wasn’t nearly as huge as a full-grown, bus-sized adult, he was still impressive. His scales were a deep navy blue, the color of the ocean depths, and his eyes gleamed a brilliant gold in the darkness. A sail-like fin ran from between sweeping ebony horns, all the way to the tip of his slinky tail. Which he wrapped around his clawed feet as he sat down, cat-like, and watched me.
I gazed up into the narrow, scaly face, and realized he was smirking at me. Looking very Riley-like, even in dragon form. Annoyance quickly replaced excitement, and I crossed my arms. Here I was, gaping like a stunned human at my own kind. If Dante knew, he’d never let me live it down.
“That was quite the entrance,” I said, only now realizing that I was completely soaked from the explosion of seawater caused by beating dragon wings. Which were now folded neatly over his back now, dripping puddles onto the rock. “Would you like me to applaud?”
The dragon—Riley—grinned, showing a set of sharp white fangs.
“Did you like that, Firebrand?” he rumbled, his voice low and mocking, and if I’d had any doubts that this was the same rogue, they would be gone now. “Frankly, I wasn’t expecting you to show.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
“I guess not. Though it’s nice to hear you haven’t forgotten everything about being a dragon.”
He’d been speaking in Draconic, I realized, the native language of all our kind. I’d grown up speaking Draconic, only learning English when our human education had begun, years later. I hadn’t been answering in Draconic, because not only did the language consist of verbal communication, but many words and phrases required complex and subtle nuances to get the point across. It was physically impossible for the human body to mimic important things like tail position and pupil width, so speaking flawless Draconic in human form wasn’t possible. But I understood it perfectly.
“You’re one to talk,” I challenged. “You’re the rogue, the one who abandoned everything Talon stands for. Are you even going to tell me your real name? Or was that just a lie to get me out here?”
“It wasn’t,” the rogue said mildly. “My real name is Cobalt, or it is when I’m in this form. And don’t spout Talon’s garbage at me. I’ve forgotten more about Talon then you’ll ever know, hatchling.”
“Rnesh karr slithis,” I hissed back, which was Draconic for eat your own tail, the dragon version of go screw yourself. No extra transla-tion needed.
He laughed. “Ouch. Language, Firebrand.” The rogue rose to his feet like a cat and spread his wings. Leathery and blue-black, they cast a dark shadow over me and the rocky ground, making me feel small beneath them. “So, are you all hot air and talk?” Cobalt wondered, and his head rose on a long graceful neck to look down his snout at me. “Or are we actually going to fly?”
I raised my chin, feeling my dragon squirming with excitement, with impatience. Turning, I walked a few paces away and then spun back, breathing deep. But I noticed the blue dragon still watching me from the edge of the cliff, wearing that careless grin. I scowled at him.
“Uh, a little privacy, please?” I snapped, and the rogue blinked in surprise. I tapped my foot and waited, but he didn’t seem to get the hint. “Okay, I’ll be a bit more clear. Turn around.”
He cocked his head, frowning. “Why?”
“Because I’m not going to ruin a perfectly good pair of shorts when I change, and I don’t feel like biking home in the nude.” He still looked baffled, and I rolled my eyes. “I’m taking off my clothes, genius, but I’m not here to give you a show. So, turn around.”
“You do realize that we are both dragons, right? I don’t care about your human concerns of modesty.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I do.” I crossed my arms, staring him down. He glowered back. Maybe I was being “too human,” but my old instructors had pounded modesty into my head at school, claiming that we could not prance around buck na**d in normal society, even if we never wore clothes in our natural forms. “Glare all you want, but I’m not Shifting a hair if you’re watching me. So if you want me to go flying anywhere with you tonight, turn around!”
With a snort, the blue dragon stood and, with a display of great dignity, turned around. Sitting with his back to me, he curled his tail around himself again and turned his snout toward the ocean.
