Scales of Blood

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Or so the legends say.

As Nyla stood in the middle of the chaotic arena - the stench of smoke stinging her nostrils, her eyes stuck on the blood seeping from her father’s lifeless body - her mind caught on the opening line to their most famous legend.

‘There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The Red Scales Clan were once a peaceful people of farmers and craftsmen. Until one misty morning, the Chief discovered a cave hidden in the valley of their land guarded by statues of dragons. In that cave stood a gate forged of multicolored dragon scales.’

Nyla heard the elder’s voice in her head so clearly, the shrill screams of terror and pain in the arena drowned out by the calm, scratchy words of the past. She’d heard that story so many times over the years that she could recite it on her own, exaggerations and all. Even now as she stared at her father’s crimson blood pooling on the stone platform, she could hear him telling it to her just as he had every night before bed when she was a young girl.

She could see the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of the tremendous power of dragons and dragon riders. The way his voice spun the tale so expertly that she could imagine it all vividly. Could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke of their honorable duty as dragon riders to protect their home and the gate.

She imagined it now, his voice finishing the story.

“The Chief tried for weeks to break open the gate. He used every tool they had but nothing worked. Not until he acquired a rare gem from a distant land that was able to pierce through the dragon scales. Before he could fully break the gate, it opened on its own, and a mighty dragon of fire-bright scales walked through. He spoke into the Chief’s mind and offered an alliance between humans and dragons. The people of the Valley would forever defend this gate with the assistance of dragons and be granted power to aid in their protection. And so, it became that the people of the Valley were blessed with magic and dragons.”

Her father said nothing now. His eyes would never again shine with pride, not with an arrow sticking out of one. Nor would she ever listen to his heart beating when he wrapped her in a hug.

Nyla! Arabella shouted into her mind, their bond pulsing painfully between her and the dragon. Nyla, we must go!

Nyla finally felt the tears pouring down her face, the haunting sounds of battle crashing into her like an angry wave. Screams of terror clashed with roars of rage and battle. The clanging of swords rang out in between the deafening screeches of dying dragons.

Nyla! Arabella shouted again.

She finally looked to her dragon. She ignored the bodies littered around the platform, ignored the fire consuming the arena. Her snow-white dragon battled side-by-side with a familiar black one against a group of four dragons she’d never seen before.

The Red Scales Clan were supposed to be the only ones in the land to be blessed with dragons. The Valley held the gate between human and dragon lands, and no other should be bonded to them. Yet she did not recognize these dragons and riders in their black and silver armor which looked so bulky and out of place against the light-weight dragon scale armor she was used to. Nor did she recognize their circlet emblem of flames etched into their breastplates.

“Nyla!” Macen shouted as he parried with one of the foreign riders, their swords piercing her ears despite the chaos around them. He stood with only one guard left at his back to battle the four foreigners, the others all dead at their feet. Her eyes caught on Macen’s father, Chief Talon. Once beautifully dark skin now turned ashen with death, while those strange golden eyes were now dark and lifeless, the Chief’s power truly gone.

“We could use some help,” Macen called out to her once more as he and the warrior fought off the attackers.

All this death and destruction. All this horror occurred in a matter of minutes. One moment they were honoring the dragons in preparation for the bequeathal of power ceremony, the next, her father and Chief Talon were shot through with arrows. It took only seconds for the rest of the enemy to attack, sneaking over the arena walls to kill their unsuspecting clan.

Nyla felt the spark of power in her gut flare to life as she watched her home be invaded. She’d spent her whole life controlling the power she’d been blessed with by the dragons but as she looked around the destroyed arena, at her people slaughtered and burned, that power surged out of her control.

Drawing her sword from its sheath, she ran toward Macen, her new Chief, her responsibility to protect. Before she reached them, she let her deadly magic out, let it blast forth without restraint. It gladly went, eager to protect and kill. Invisible to everyone else, she latched it around the foreigner’s neck and wrenched with a quick jerk. He fell to the ground after a satisfying crack of bone echoed in her ears.

Nyla lunged and stabbed her sword through the neck of another, her roar combating with the ferocity of the dragons all around. As she yanked her sword away, her magic plunged through the armor of another invader, piercing through their gut with ease before shredding their heart into ribbons. Blood poured over his dark armor then he joined his comrades on the ground.

Macen felled the last invader just as she heard Arabella’s piercing wail. Nyla whirled, finding a dragon’s jaws biting into Arabella’s front leg. Without a thought, her magic pierced through the air and sliced through the dragon’s neck like an invisible sword. It took a second before the massive body staggered and fell to the ground in two pieces.

Roars of outrage from the other three dragons cut off as she did the same to them.

Nyla sprinted to Arabella, feeling the pain of her wound through their bond.

“Ari! Are you okay?” Nyla asked her friend as she inspected the bite. Luckily, the dragon only had time to bite not tear the flesh away which would have been far bloodier and harder to heal.

I’ll be fine. We must go, Arabella urged, her voice frantic inside Nyla’s head.

Macen slid to his knees beside Nyla and immediately placed his hands on Arabella’s leg. White light flared from the dragon’s wounds and began to heal from Macen’s magic.

“That’s the best I can do for now,” Macen explained as he took his hands away. The puncture wounds no longer bled and weren’t as large but were still noticeable against Arabella’s white scales. “I can heal her completely when we are safe. We have to move!”

He sprinted toward his massive black dragon and leaped into the saddle.

Are you okay to fly? Nyla questioned as she climbed into Arabella’s saddle.

I’m fine. Now, let that power out and slay these vermin, she growled before taking a few running leaps and lifting into the air with a few powerful flaps of her wings. As they climbed into the air, Nyla clasped the buckle to the harness around her waist to the saddle and focused on attacking the enemy while also protecting Macen. It was her sole duty to protect the Chief, but she couldn’t let her people die, couldn’t let her home be overrun.

She hated herself for it, hated that she was letting her father down by shirking her duty, but she couldn’t leave her people. There were too many invaders for the Red Scales to handle.

“Follow me!” she screamed at Macen and banked right, hoping that he would listen. Arabella followed Nyla’s lead and flew around the perimeter of the arena. As they flew, Nyla let her power free. Let it do what it always begged for her to do; to hurt, to kill. She sliced through the necks of countless dragons, watching their riders plummet to their deaths along with the dragon’s body.

“It’s the girl! She has the power! Get the girl!” somebody shouted from the enemy.

Nyla didn’t understand why they came for her other than the fact that she so thoroughly and easily cut through their ranks. She didn’t understand what he meant by, “she had the power.” What power? All riders had some type of magic, she wasn't special in that regard.

As they rallied against her, Nyla urged Arabella skyward, climbing higher above everyone. She glanced back to ensure Macen followed. With a fierce scowl on his face, he flew directly on their flank, an arrow poised like the flight warrior they were all trained to be.

As she circled back around, now flying higher above the rest, she scanned their enemy. They were well coordinated in their attacks, sticking to groups of three whenever they went after someone, ensuring to trap the dragon and rider for a swift death.

Beside her, Macen loosed endless arrows upon their enemy while his dragon flew them in circles. Whoever spotted her earlier using that lethal magic caught up to her now though, a surge of dragons aimed directly toward them.

“Macen! Fly higher!” she screamed right before she urged Arabella, “Dive!” She screamed it aloud and through their bond, their minds forever linked in this divine way. Arabella didn’t balk at the order despite the treacherous fate waiting below. She knew better than to doubt her rider and Nyla’s insane schemes. This would be no different, and as the plan flowed through their bond, Arabella roared into the sky, a keening toll to all those left alive and for all those that already passed through the Veil and watched them now.

Staring down the enemy riders, Nyla didn’t dare blink, only narrowed her eyes against the harsh wind. Closer and closer they flew, one pair against a dozen.

The warriors directly below her held back, falling back amongst their brethren while the others went wide, trying to trap her in. Nyla saw it happening. She knew the trap before it even happened and kept flying into it because they had no idea that they flew right into hers.

Deep in her chest, her magic roiled, and she fanned it on like the flames in a hearth, urging it to build and build. As they flew ever closer, the scales on the green dragon directly in her path became visible, the matching green of the rider’s eyes stark beneath the metal helmet, and the bead of sweat that rolled down his temple glistened in the sunlight.

At the last second, Arabella banked upward so that they flew level and darted beyond the impending collision. Dragons roared behind her as they narrowly avoided running into each other as well and chased after the pair.

Nyla spared Macen one look to ensure he flew safely above them before she turned her attention to her pursuers. Flipping around in the saddle, she gathered the magic into a tight ball of energy then let it explode in an arc of blinding, lighting-blue magic. The paired dozen of warriors vanished into ash in the blink of an eye, remnants of blue sparks dancing between the flakes floating in the air.

Nyla collapsed back into the saddle, hugging Arabella’s sides with her legs and directed her dragon toward the fight below them. Many drifted through the sky atop their dragons, their jaws dropped as they stared up at her. Her own people didn’t know the extent of her power. They knew she was powerful, she had to be in order to be granted position of the Shield. Only Arabella knew her true depths though.

Dizzy with the energy required to use such power, Nyla ignored it and dove into the battle. Kindling whatever power was left, she cleaved through the enemy dragons, her power no longer visible but a phantom of death as it cleaved through scales and bone.

There were far fewer of the enemy left when she passed out in the saddle.

_ _

Nyla woke in her bed, comfy and warm, the familiar smell of her mother’s stew filling her nose and making her stomach growl. Swinging her legs out of bed, she prepared to rush out and grab the first bowl before her sisters scarfed it all down but froze when pain wracked her body. With a cry, she fell back on the bed, every muscle protesting her movements.

She forgot for a moment about what happened. Forgot the insanity of what happened in the arena. Forgot that her father had been killed. But it became quite fresh in her mind as she recalled every detail of that battle. Her first true battle.

“Nyla!” Macen called before barging through her door. Immediately seeing her scrunched face, he lifted her legs back into the bed and situated her against the pillow fluffed beneath her head.

“Nyla?” Wendy questioned as she followed in after Macen and began inspecting her older sister. Only one year younger than Nyla, Wendy looked so much like their father that it hurt to look at her. She could only see their father’s lifeless body and the arrow sticking out of his eye.

Tears formed in her eyes while Wendy placed an herbal tincture on either side of Nyla’s neck. Scents of lavender and sage filled her nostrils. Soothing scents. Although she felt anything but calm.

She reached out to Arabella, alerting the dragon that she was awake and received only warmth and love in return. At least her dragon was safe. For now.

“Father? He’s truly gone?” Nyla asked, her voice hoarse. Judging by that and her sore body, she guessed she overused her magic and had been out for days.

Wendy paused in her doting, eyes glossy and lips thinned. “He is gone,” she confirmed. Tears overwhelmed Nyla and she closed her eyes in an attempt to control herself.

Nyla looked to Macen who had seen far better days with ashy skin and eyes sunken into his head. “What of the Valley?” she worried.

“You need rest, Nyla,” Macen began but she cut him off.

“Tell me,” she demanded. Bracing herself, she gritted her teeth and sat up against the headboard, her entire body aflame with pain. She welcomed it. Welcomed the reminder that she still lived while so many others were dead. Flashes of the battle assaulted her mind, heaps of bodies littered about the burning arena.

“I’ll get you a potion for the pain,” Wendy said then left the room, shutting the door softly on her way out.

Macen rubbed at the back of his neck and slumped onto the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh. “The arena is in ruins, but most of the city made it out unscathed. There is some minor damage to the buildings closest to the arena, but repairs are already underway.”

“What of our ranks? How many did we lose?” She didn’t want to know the answer. She didn’t want to ask these questions. It should have been her father asking them. It should have been him taking stock and dealing with this disaster.

Macen stared at his hands; his palms stained red with dragon blood. No amount of scrubbing would get rid of the stain, only time.

“Two-hundred and twenty-three bonded, one-hundred and five individuals.”

Nyla’s eyes fell closed, her head falling back against the wall, the weight of all those lives crashing down on her because it wasn’t only two-hundred and twenty-three riders they lost but pairs. They lost four hundred and forty-six souls during that raid, in addition to the other individuals. Five hundred and fifty-one souls gone in minutes. An unfathomable loss, especially to the Valley who hadn’t seen a single battle in the many generations that they lived here.

“The memorial will be tonight, now that you’re awake.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

She could hardly believe it but with how she felt, it seemed accurate. Using that much power had to come with a cost and that must have been it. At least she now knew her limits with the power she’d kept hidden.

“We didn’t think you’d make it in the beginning. Arabella said she couldn’t feel your bond.” His voice cracked at the end, her own worry consuming her. She reached out to her dragon reassuring Arabella that she lived.

We will talk later, Arabella replied. Rest now.

Nyla gave herself a moment to compose herself before looking at Macen. His head hung low, shoulders curved inward as he rested his elbows on his knees, he stared at the floor of her childhood bedroom. The bedroom he often slept in when he didn’t want to sleep at home with his overbearing father, the Chief. The former Chief.

“Macen, look at me,” she directed softly.

He’d been her best friend since they were children. They’d been destined to be at each other’s side since birth simply because they were the firstborns of their family. Macen was destined to be the next Chief of the Valley, while she would take up her father’s mantle as the Chief’s Shield. It brought them closer together despite their reluctance to carry the heavy mantle’s weighing upon them. And they’d prepared to accept them together for their entire lives.

Two days ago, they were about to finally take their mantles as leaders of the Valley. In a grand tradition and festive day of celebration, the residents in the Valley would have gathered in honor of their new leaders. Her father would have passed the ceremonial dragon shield to her. Chief Talon would have passed the ceremonial warrior sword to Macen and the crowd would have deafened them with their cheers.

Instead, she stood there with a practiced smile on her face as her father stepped up to her, a beaming smile filled with pride on his face, the shield of multicolored dragon scales held in his hands. One second, he stood before her, the next, red tinted her vision as his body thudded against the wooden platform, an arrow through his eye. Instead of cheers, screams deafened her. Instead of pride, she felt only dread and fear.

Now, as she stared at her friend, his eyes as plain as the day he was born, dread filled her once more. Her father once told her that when she became the Shield, she would feel this innate pull to protect Macen, to protect the heir of the Valley. He said it would be like another bond, just not as strong. Right now though, she felt nothing.

He lifted his head, finally looking her in the eyes. Plain brown eyes stared out at her from beneath furrowed brows. They were not lit with the golden power of the Chief like his father’s had been.

“Your eyes…” she trailed off as his face filled with so much regret and shame. “You’re not the Chief,” she said aloud, more for herself than for him. He hung his head again, shaking it in defeat. “Then who?”

“We don’t know. No one has come forward. No one has been seen with the power of the Chief in their eyes either.”

Nyla couldn’t even begin to think of all the repercussions that followed if no one in the Red Scales Clan became Chief. They would be prone to foreign invaders or worse, an outsider could have the power. An outsider that didn’t understand the sacred duty of the Red Scales Clan.

“What if the power went to an outsider?” she questioned, her fear too great to keep quiet.

Macen shook his head. “The legends say that the power is passed from parent to child and that it would forever remain in the Talon line. My bastard of a father must have had another child somewhere on this island.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “What do you feel? Is anything different now that your father… now that you are the Shield?”

Nyla felt that everything was different now that her father was gone. Nothing would ever be the same regardless that she was the Shield now.

“I feel like complete dragon shit right now, but I felt it. The moment he died I felt the power surge inside me.” It was all the confirmation Macen needed.

He let out a relieved breath. “At least you are still the Shield. You can still protect us even if we don’t have a leader.”

“You are still our leader, Macen. For the time being, you are the Chief, power or not. You must lead our people.”

“I’ve never wanted this,” Macen admitted, his voice quiet, his eyes on his hands again. “I’ve always been a healer, Nyla, not a fighter.”

“I know. I know, Macen,” she consoled, moving to wrap her arms around him. Every movement she made had her muscles screaming in agony but they both needed the contact right now. Wrapping her arms around his muscled torso, she rested her head on his shoulder, hugging him from behind. “You’ve suffered so much already, and I know you don’t want this, but you have to be strong for a little while longer. You are still a Talon, you still have a claim as Chief.”

“And what if the new Chief isn’t one of us? What if they don’t want to uphold our purpose to protect the gate?”

Nyla couldn’t think about that yet either. There was too much to think about all at once. “For now, let’s honor our dead and ensure our defenses are strengthened once more. We can worry about the new Chief tomorrow.”

Macen placed his hand over hers which rested against his abdomen. For a moment, she let herself be lulled by the silence and his steady breathing, her eyes drifting closed.

“Do you feel them? The new Chief?” Macen asked, his voice waking her once more.

She took a moment to evaluate the power within herself. Doubting that she could feel anything, she froze when she found something new. Nuzzled up against her power she felt the faintest thrum of a pull in her chest. Something foreign and yet, not uncomfortably unknown. She caressed the new thing inside of herself with her mind, testing it. The thrum went taught and urged her west.

“I feel them. It’s odd though and nothing like my bond with Arabella. It’s like an internal compass guiding me west.”

He tensed in her arms. “You’re right, let’s think about this tomorrow.” He stood only to turn around and gather her in his arms and lay back down so that they held each other. Snuggled in his arms, Nyla welcomed his familiar warmth and scent. “I’m so sorry about your father, Nyla,” he whispered, holding her closer.

Tearing up once more, she buried her face into his chest and let herself cry. She’d loved her father. He was a gentle and kind father while also a fierce warrior. He showered each of his seven daughters with affection and pride and doted on their mother with such love.

Nyla could hardly breathe with how much she missed him. But she knew her time to grieve was limited. She was the Shield now, and her father would be angrier than dragon’s fire if he knew that she wallowed in grief rather than protected the clan. For a few moments longer though, she would let herself take comfort in Macen’s arms. She would cry for her father. Cry for the man she’d never get to hug again. Cry for the life she lost that day and for the new one to come because as soon as she left this bed, she would be the Valley’s protector, the clan’s only hope at regaining their Chief and the Chief’s power.

When she left this bed, she would no longer be a warrior, she’d become a leader and more importantly, she’d have to go find their new Chief. Wherever they may be.