Chapter 11: This may Sting a Little

A gust of wind whipped past the spikes of ice and sent a shiver down Sylph’s neck. But it was nothing compared to the tremor that shook her body as she stared down into two hollow eye-sockets. A faint purple glow illuminated the skull from within as it stared back at her.

“What in the name of Myria is that?!” Brandon stumbled towards them, pointing at the creature pinned beneath Sylph.

Sylph shook the surprise out of her head. “A skeleton. Not soulless, I assume.” A few torn clothes were the only things left to cover the rather frail looking dirty bones. She sat down with her full weight on its lower body to stop it from moving. It did not resemble the strong-boned and clean ones she remembered from Void’s castle. Of all the things she had expected, this was not one of them. Then again, a human sleeping beneath a layer of snow would have been stranger.

“What? How? How is that possible? How can it talk? Can it hear us? It doesn’t have ears or eyes. How does it move?” Brandon bombarded them with questions but forgot the most important ones. Why was it here and what did it know?

Sylph ignored his chatter and pressed down on the skeleton’s ribs with her front legs. They creaked and cracked under the weight. “You have grown quite a lot. How much time has passed? What year is it?” its voice was hollow and high pitched. There was no panic, not a hint of anger, no emotion at all. Sylph’s dragonheart flared up. This was one of her captors. Her mind compared the voice to her mental library with rapid, anger-fueled efficiency. The tone, the pitch, and the near silent croak compared and shifted into the hollow voice of a skeleton. She went through a dozen variations and voices in a second. Her pfod gripped a rib tighter. “You are Sarah, aren’t you? Lived near the stable, never interacted with me,” Sylph growled and her other pfod closed around the skeleton’s right arm.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” Sarah cocked her skull in surprise, the face as emotionless as before. The fire in Sylph’s chest ignited like a spark in a thatched roof and spread through her body. Her muscles tensed up, pressed against her scales from the inside as they filled with a hot, toxic, and unbridled strength. She tightened her grip until the bone creaked and with a swift jerk, she ripped the arm out of its flimsy socket and magic bind as though it were a matchstick.

“Oi, stop that! That’s rude!” Sarah complained and struck Sylph with her left. The punch hit her shoulder like a pebble a rock.

“It really talked!” Brandon commented from the sidelines.

Liquid fire pumped through Sylph with every beat of her racing heart. She had her pfods around someone responsible and every fiber in her body had something to say about that. Her thoughts narrowed more and more. Her body urged her to smash, to strike, to bite, and thrash. All thoughts homed in on a singular thing; It was Sarah’s fault.

She bared her teeth. Never had she done such an unacceptable thing. It meant you were out for blood, a challenge, a threat. “You think I am Rude? I will tell you what is rude!” Spittle flew from her mouth as her voice thundered through the village. Wyvern burst forth from the trees, screaming and fleeing into the skies. Her dragonheart burned hot enough to make her chest steam in the cold air.

“You stuffed me into a stable!” Sylph blocked the skeleton’s next punch with her underarm and grabbed its fingers. Her other pfod closed around the arm and snapped it like a twig with a satisfying crack. “Feeding me your food scraps!” Sylph grabbed a rib and pried it out of the torso with frightening ease. “I was your slave!” A second of silence passed as a grim realization fueled the blazing anger burning in her head. “No, I wasn’t a slave. I was a pet!” Filled by her over-saturated dragonheart, the bones looked like toothpicks. She jumped to her feet and pulled back her front leg. She wound up to the point it hurt and brought it down on the skeleton’s leg with as much force as she could muster in the slightly awkward position. The bone exploded into splinters and pain shot up her arm as she smashed into the frozen ground uncontrolled. She raised her shaking arm and watched droplets of blood race down her pfod. A very slight sting shot upwards and she ignored it while grabbing the other leg.

“Sylph!” Brandon yelled and Sylph stopped with her pfod around the femur. His voice cut through her tunnel vision and thoughts running wild. Her dragonheart jumped once again, threatening to burst through her chest like a volcano if she didn’t crush the bone of her prey. Reluctantly, she pried away and strained her head backwards instead.

Year’s worth of boiling and bubbling anger and things unsaid exploded out of her throat in a bellowing roar that shook her very bones and the island beneath. It reflected off the mountains and washed through the forest a second time. When she lowered her head, the world was silent and a blissful sensation of emptiness spread through her head.

Sylph drew a shallow breath. Her chest cramped and a cold void radiated outward. She let out a relieved sigh and turned her attention back to the motionless skeleton. “So, what have you got to say to your defense?” Sylph’s voice was coarse, and it hurt to speak, but she felt so much better now, like having that first drink of cold water after a long night of too much ale, or finally falling into your soft nest after a day of harsh training. A great burden had left her body.

The skeleton barely moved. “I, for one, didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what? That I was your pet?”

“We thought you were a wyvern.”

Sylph scoffed at that notion. “You thought I was a wyvern?” Sylph repeated the words. “And I should believe that? Tell me how the fact that I could talk and understand your commands didn’t change your mind?” Sylph raised her pfod again, threateningly. A small red puddle had formed in the snow and the splinters stung as the cold afterglow set in.

“Would you stop breaking my bones! They’ll regrow anyway,” the skeleton complained.

“They regrow?” Brandon interrupted, and Sylph shot him a silencing glare.

“You can train wyvern to stay and they do, sometimes. We told you to stay, and you did. We thought that was like all those main island people did it. They told us that was how you did it with dragons, no actual difference.” The skeleton clacked with its teeth, grinding them together.

Sylph’s dragonheart sparked once again, but there was little left to burn. Instead, it turned into a dull throb that hurt like a mild stomachache. She turned to look at Brandon, who was still utterly fascinated. He stepped up and bent down to study the skeleton’s face. “If it knows about other islands, this little village might not have been all that isolated.”

Sylph sat back down on the skeleton’s hips to prevent her from moving away. Sarah kept staring upwards and then slowly turned her empty gaze towards Sylph. “Before I reveal any more, I have to know if you are the one who will take my life. I will not spend eternity like this.”

“You are in no position to make demands,” Sylph answered, and bored one of her claws into a dirty rib.

The skeleton let out a bony laugh. “You remind me of the silver one, always demanding and never giving. Maybe you really are the one the other talked about.”

“Silver one?” Sylph pressed harder into the rib. It had to be Veria. Her mother met the same skeleton. “What are you talking about? The one to take your life?” Sylph scratched over the rib.

“He brought me back, and he told me that there would be someone who deserved to take my life. Been bleaching in the sun and snow here ever since.”

Sylph bent downwards, teeth inches from Sarah’s head. “Someone brought you back? Was he with the silver one?”

The skeleton seemed to think for a moment as it lay there. It nodded. Sylph swallowed hard. Dalian brought her back? It was forbidden. He broke that rule; he made that rule. This was Dalian, she thought about. He could be trapped by putting a “Do not enter” sign on an unlocked door. All to find answers about her? Did Veria convince him to do so? Bringing someone back because someone else deserved to take their life was not a thought Dalian would ever consider, but for Veria, that line of thinking was not too far-fetched. Was this a hint left for her?

Her gaze fell on the broken bones and limbs scattered over the floor, droplets of her own blood sprinkled all around the scene. A small, hot pool had formed beneath her pfod. “Maybe I am the one to take your life,” Sylph said, and Brandon opened his mouth for more questions but closed it again.

“That’s a relief. I’ll tell you all I told them. Please do not break our agreement.” Sarah’s eyes flickered in a solemn purple from deep within.

“I promise.” Sylph stepped off the skeleton. It didn’t move; It lacked the limbs to do so. Brandon eyed her with a worried expression. He had witnessed the most violent outburst she ever had, and now she had agreed to take Sarah’s life. Not that she was alive.

Her chest had grown ice cold, as though she had swallowed a glacier. Like a fire burning too bright, dragonhearts could burn out quicker than expected. While she still hoped that she came to her senses fast enough, the signs pointed towards a few painful and exhausting few days ahead.

“What do you want to hear first?” The skeleton asked.

“Where you got my egg from and how.” Sylph’s heartbeat quickened.

“Well, that was quite a few years ago. Two merchants sold you, said it was a great deal, but I think they might’ve ripped us off. Told us about how you would grow fast and gave us a few pointers. But should’ve listened to the elder, wyvern are too much work.”

Sylph brought her pfod down hard, but the skeleton’s last leg didn’t budge. “I. Am. Not. A. Wild. Wyvern!” she snapped, “I am not a wild animal and I don’t want to hear anymore about that!”

“You are doing a very great impression of that. Do you want to hear what I have to say or continue trying to break my bones?”

Sylph exhaled sharply and her pfod slipped off the bone. “Continue,” she hissed. The skeleton turned her head towards Brandon, who had taken out a notebook and started scribbling in it. “Maybe you can convince him to stop breaking my bones? He’s being very rude.” Sarah asked him.

“Keep Brandon out of this. And I am not a male.”

“Really? I swore you were.” The skeleton raised her head and looked along Sylph’s underbelly.

“That’s it, you’ve lost movement privileges.” Sylph stepped forward with an appalled huff, grabbed the head by pushing her thumbs into the eye sockets, and twisted. With a snap, the skull came loose and the bones went limp. Using the jaw as a shovel, she made a small mound of snow and pressed the skull inside.

Sylph sat down opposite of it. “This may be the one thing I can’t judge you for not knowing. I wasn’t old enough to be a dragoness. And to be very clear, you do not look at a dragon’s most precious jewels like that.”

The skull stared straight ahead. “So you could’ve laid eggs like a wyvern and be useful.”

Sylph let out another disgruntled huff. Sarah still took her for a wyvern. “That is not how it works and not what we are talking about. What is wrong with you people? Tell me what else you know about my egg.”

The skull’s stare intensified. “The two merchants said they bought from some guy selling surplus in Prina. It was about to hatch, that was why it was so cheap.”

“So my egg came from Prina?” Thoughts jumped over each other in her head. She’d never heard about that town or island. But that problem could be solved with any good map.

“Yes.” A singular word filled the village square like a theater hall. That was all she needed to hear. Sylph grabbed the skeleton’s skull with one pfod and smashed it against the ground. A near inaudible hiss filled the air and the purple shimmer faded. She shook her bleeding and throbbing pfod.

“Sylph!” Brandon jumped and dropped his notes, “What did you do!”

“She’s not dead, she was already dead, she merely went back into the veil.”

He shook his head. “Not that, although I was concerned about that.” He picked up his notes. “You should’ve asked it more.”

“I’ve heard all that I needed. Prina. I don’t exactly want to talk to someone that thinks I’m a wild animal, do you?” She snapped around, and he stepped backwards. She closed her mouth and sighed. “What more would she know? We go to Prina and find whoever sold me.” Brandon stood still, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“What?”

“Do you know where Prina is? The names of the merchants? How they looked? The name of their ship? The flags they flew? A proof of ownership?” He pressed the questions through his teeth.

“You really think some shady merchant illegally selling dragon eggs has all of that?” She looked back down at the pile of bones.

“While it is not something we would ever consider, it is not as illegal in some places. They would certainly keep track and have names and flags and shops.”

Looking at it like that was a sobering thought. To even consider a place where she would not count as a person was disgusting and terrifying. “Finding out where Prina is can’t be that hard. They would have a ledger too. Am I right? And there aren’t too many Aer, so that should make it easier. You know you gotta stop me before I do something stupid.”

Brandon sighed. “We are not working on an alchemy project, Sylph. I did not want to interrupt you.”

Her fatigued dragonheart sat heavy in her chest. She turned and stared at the derelict houses and remains. “Something bothers me. Why did Veria and Dalian leave this bonecrumb here for me? They were very intent on keeping all information away from me. Leaving a skeleton behind with the message that somebody else would come to take their life makes little sense.”

Brandon pondered the thought along with her. “Maybe they intended for you to find that skeleton here, but changed their mind as they traveled further. Maybe they found something in Prina.”

“And forgot about the skeleton? I guess it would not matter if I never traveled here.” A tiny detail in the very back of her head caught her attention. Something she just accepted back then; Veria met Oasis in Gideza. She’d been too young to wonder and ask what her mother did at the bottom of the continent, all the way down in the Great Desert. Maybe it was far-fetched, but could Prina be down south, around, or even in the Great Desert?

Brandon picked up the cracked skull and rubbed the purple powder draining from its back between his fingers. “What it said,” he turned the skull upside down to look inside, “I don’t think these people have ever left the island. That way of thinking is,” he lowered the skull, staring intensely at the gem shaped hollow in the back. “That way of thinking is something you’d only find in villages nearly completely isolated. So maybe that is a clue to the whereabouts of Prina. Somewhere isolated.”

“Their family tree must be a circle,” Sylph added.

He turned back around and smirked. Then his gaze went downwards, and he dropped the skull. “You are bleeding quite heavily.” Brandon nodded to the large red puddle in the snow.

Her pfod ached and burned as if on command. “It’s only a few splinters. I’ll get them out back on the ship,” Sylph said, and tested if she could stand. She recoiled as soon as she put any pressure on it. It always amazed her how her body was oblivious to any wound until she saw it. Only then did it hurt.

Brandon dropped his backpack and rummaged around. “You want me to stop stupid ideas? Then let me stop that and get the splinters out right here.” He pulled out a bottle of clear liquid with a few red labels.

Sylph sat down and turned her pfod around. A sharp sting of pain shot through her arm as she eyed what she had done. The splinters of various sizes and lengths made her pfod look like a pincushion. Blood seeped out from the various wounds and gathered into a puddle that obscured and hid the smallest ones from sight. For a second, she considered trying something with her abilities, but messing with her blood probably was not a good idea. Meanwhile, Brandon had emptied another small container of its rocky contents and produced a pair of thin metal tweezers. He dipped them into the clear liquid.

“Put your pfod on that rock so I don’t have to touch you,” he said, and she followed his command. “This may sting a little.”

The tweezers dug into her skin and grabbed the first piece of bone. What followed was an intense burning sensation. Stings a little, was an understatement. It took most of her willpower to not cry out like a whelp. Her tail smacked against an ice pillar as she barely stopped herself from smacking Brandon and his liquid fire away from her. “What, by the six, is that clear liquid?” she hissed through clenched teeth as Brandon cleaned the tweezers with it.

“You don’t want it to become infected, do you?” He shook the bottle. Thankfully, Brandon worked fast and precise, only hindered by her twitching. His tweezers hovered around a particularly long piece of bone lodged deep into her flesh. Sylph braced herself, but he pulled out another small piece instead. “It called you him. Is what they say about Aer actually true?” Brandon asked without looking up.

The statement threw her off. “Who are they, and what do they say about us?”

“The myth that you change into male or female later in life.” The burning tweezers stung into her flesh again, but her mind was occupied with the rather odd question that should be common knowledge.

“Really? That is what they say? It’s not a myth. It’s true and very confusing. One day your body decides and your mind has to play catch up.” Confusing was not the right word. She had been terrified of her own body. Her mothers were not Aer and could not tell her what exactly would happen. Nobody mentioned the cramps robbing you of your sleep and the disbelief as your body betrayed what you thought was yourself. It took her months to accept it. “I gotta say that some parts surely would be more convenient to have. All the possibilities-” Sylph smirked.

Brandon looked up without a word, his gaze judging her for wherever her mind went with that last sentence. People knew and joked that Aer looked very androgynous, but apparently the why was a myth. Brandon didn’t seem to know either, which surprised her. She mostly assumed he knew everything that wasn’t magic.

“Doesn’t sound like the most comfortable experience.” He hesitated and looked back down at the last splinter. “Puberty sounds like a breeze in comparison.”

Sylph’s smile widened to a grin, and she broke into snorting laughter. “Maybe I lied to you. Maybe I am actually a dragon, you’d never know. Maybe I am far bigge- Yeowch!” She pulled back her pfod and wheezed in pain.

“I’m done.” Brandon presented the inch long splinter he had pulled and dropped the tweezers into his bag.

“Could’ve warned me before you pulled that one out. No, you sly bastard waited for me to make some weird, terrible joke so you could do that. You knew all along, didn’t you?” she eyed her bleeding, but splinterless pfod.

“Partially true. I knew it happens, yes. But I can’t imagine how that must feel. The rest of us don’t have to guess.” She wiped her bloody pfod in the cool snow. The remaining scratches and small wounds still bled and everything throbbed. This would’ve taken her ages by herself. And she couldn’t decide if claws or no claws would’ve been more effective. Grabbing a splinter the size of an ant was pure luck. “But yes, without joking, it was quite uncomfortable not to know how you will end up. It feels right now, I know I am supposed to be a dragoness. In-between I wasn’t so sure, or what I would’ve preferred. At least my name could’ve worked for both.”

“Sadly, I don’t have any bandages,” Brandon said and rummaged through his backpack again.

“It’s fine, I can walk on three legs for a while.” Sylph walked ahead with a limp. “And thank you,” she nodded.

“You are welcome. I hope you don’t do that again. I am not a surgeon,” he reprimanded her with a smile and repacked his things.

A high-pitched wyvern’s cry echoed through the forest, much closer than the first time, and Sylph noticed the sound of rapid movement through the trees. “Maybe we should hurry.”