Squelching the Flames

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. One hundred years had passed, and it had been quiet, but when the volcano started to become active, it seemed to be a beacon that called the dragons back. No one knew why, but villages had burned in the chaos they brought with their return.

An order of dragon fighters in the Valley had all but disbanded. With no dragons, few took up the mantle to fight. Ingrid was sold to the leader of the Dragon Brotherhood when she was barely 15 winters old. She was to be his wife.

Ingrid could have been angry for her family being in such despair they sold her to put food on the table for her seven siblings. Instead, she accepted her fate. Ingrid had been with the Dragon Brotherhood for four years, and she had yet to marry Bertrand Merrick. In fact, since the day she was purchased, she had only seen him once in passing.

For four years, all she had done was spend her days learning to fight. The hours of training at first were grueling. After a time, it became her solace. It brought her to a place of inner peace that the monks found meditating. Each morning she longed to be in the training yard.

She became adept at every weapon she picked up. She learned quickly in a battle that you better know how to wield a weapon you may have to pick up if you lose your weapon. For years she trained, and she knew it was to fight dragons.

Today Bertrand stood over the training yard and watched her. There was no doubt Ingrid found herself slightly distracted, but she kept on with her task. It was not like Bertrand to be there in the Valley, let alone watching over her training. Something had changed, and she became uneasy, wondering what that could be.

Edward was her trainer that day, and he gave her no mercy. At the end, she was lying with her back in the mud, covered in sweat and breathing hard. “Next time, remember to be on the defense. You do not always have to be attacking.”

Ingrid grunted, and he extended his hand to help her up, and she took it gratefully.

While she was trying to wipe the mud off her backside, Bertrand walked toward her. His boots were squelching in the mud. He looked at her seriously, and her heart started to skip a beat. Ingrid did not know if she liked this new feeling he gave her.

As always, his face was stoic, “Follow me, Ingrid, we need to talk.”

She followed him as he spun around. He walked quickly, and she tried to keep up with his pace. Before she knew it, they were heading to the dungeon of the Stronghold; she stopped at the top of the steps for a moment.

Ingrid had never been down there before, and she saw people go down there, and she never saw them again. Bertrand looked over his shoulder, and she thought she saw a sly smile cross his lips, “nothing to be scared of. What I need to speak with you about is only for your ears.”

There was no doubt she found herself even more nervous. This was the most Bertrand had spoken to her since arriving four years prior. He continued to walk down the stone steps, and after hesitating a moment longer, she followed him down.

After going through a few corridors, they entered a lavishly decorated room. Ingrid had no idea it was like this down here. She assumed it was like dungeons in some of the books she read. A place where people were prisoners or worse.

Bertrand took a seat next to the fire, and he motioned next to her. Ingrid wondered if the time to become his wife had arrived. Her heartbeat quickened as she took a seat close to him. The smell of him overwhelmed her with leather and dirt.

“Do you know why you were brought here to Baerston Stronghold?” Bertrand asked her earnestly.

Ingrid stated matter of factly, “to be your wife.” She was not one to beat around the bush.

Bertrand nodded, “Yes.”

She sat there staring at him. He watched her for a moment, “before I can have you as my wife, I wanted you to be capable. We have to be ready for anything where I go can be dangerous. I want you safe. Plus, there are secrets that only the men from the inner circle of the Dragon Brotherhood know.”

One thing Ingrid knew was that there were no women in the Brotherhood. It was something she did not question, and she assumed being the wife of their leader did not count. No other man in the Dragon Brotherhood had a wife. There were many questions she had as she grew up behind the Stronghold walls, but no one would answer a single one when she arrived. Now seemed to be the moment she could get the answers she needed.

“Why am I the only woman in the stronghold?” Ingrid could not stop the question from escaping her mouth. She almost wished she had taken the time to work up to this question.

“That is simple; we are your army. Only you can protect the people from the dragons.”

A laugh escaped her mouth, and quickly she stopped while looking at him. His stoic face never faltered. Ingrid could not believe he was serious. What was so special about her? She was sold for the mere fact she was a woman and would fetch a reasonable price.

There were no words as she watched him for a moment longer, “There is nothing of note about me, besides I can wield a weapon. That is only possible due to the help of the Brotherhood.”

“Your lineage and the fact you are a woman make you special. Only you can kill the dragons. The blood that courses through your veins are what we need and a little help.”

“What kind of help?”

He stopped for a moment, and she could tell that he was unsure how to respond for the first time. His stoic face faltered for a moment, “I will show you shortly. The Brotherhood will be meeting at the hill’s peak overlooking the Stronghold shortly. We will meet them and show you. You can change first and then meet me at the gate with your horse.”

Ingrid’s mind was racing. What could this man possibly have to show her after her years of training? There was no doubt in her mind he had her mistaken for someone else. How could he think that she could kill dragons? No one managed to kill one in over a hundred years, and now the dragons had returned. Many had died trying, and all had failed.

The only stories she had heard of dragons being killed were back over 100 years ago when the Dragon Brotherhood was at its prime. There are not many of them now, but many children were sold to them, and they are trained rigorously. They adapt or perish. This was a hard life, and she had seen many young boys come and pass. She learned not to get attached, and it also helped her know she was lucky to have passed the tests and harrowing training over the last few years.

Once she had changed and pulled her cape around her shoulders, she made her way to the stables, “Winston, I need a horse.”

“You mean your horse?” Winston asked her.

Ingrid chuckled, “You know I don’t have a horse.”

Winston winked at her as he pulled the horse out of one of the stalls, “You do, lassie. Bertrand brought this beauty for you.”

Before her stood a large black horse with a black mane and tail, it was a tall, strong horse, and Ingrid could not believe his beauty. She could not recall ever seeing a horse such as this before. “What is his name?”

“You get to name him lassie. But you better hurry Bertrand is waiting at the gate for you.”

She was astonished at this gift. Ingrid could not recall ever receiving a gift, let alone anything so amazing. Once she rode out of the gate, Bertrand was there before her, masculine on his white horse with his dark hair framing his face. He smiled at her, and as fast as it appeared, it disappeared again.” Follow me. It is a long ride.”

The sun was dropping in the sky as they headed off, and she followed him closely. “Thank you for the horse.”

He nodded and did not say anything. They rode in silence, and after some time, Ingrid could no longer take the silence, “How can you be so sure I can kill dragons? What if you made a mistake.”

Bertrand spoke with zero hesitation, “We know based on your parents and your birthmark.”

Ingrid instinctively touched the crescent moon-shaped birthmark on the back of her neck. It was something she usually kept covered. Either with her long black hair or with her clothing choices. “What about my other seven siblings? Why did you not bring them here?”

He stopped his horse short and looked back at her, “You don’t know?”

“What don’t I know?”

He turned away, and his horse began to move forward again, “The man you believed to be your father is not your father. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this. Why do you think he so easily sold you to me?”

She barely heard the end of his words, and she held her reins, looking down at her hands. Tears silently fell down her face, and her horse continued following Bertrand without her making sure. How could the man who raised her not be her father? She became angry when she realized he must not have loved her to sell her the way she did.

This brought even more anger toward her mother, who allowed her to be sold. How could the life she believed she had not be her life in the slightest? This would explain why she had not heard from her family in the four years she had been away. Ingrid felt utterly alone.

“Who is my father?”

Bertrand cleared his throat, and the tone of his voice was softer when he spoke, “I promise I will answer every question that I know the answer to in time, but we are almost there.”

Quickly she wiped the tears from her face, and in a few moments, they entered a clearing with a fire burning in the center. Eight men were waiting for them. She knew them in passing but could not place them all by name.

They each stood and bowed to her, which Ingrid found unnerving. Then Bertrand took her hand and looked at her almost sympathetically, “please do not be alarmed by what you see. I will stand here with you the whole time.”

His words started to make her feel fearful. She did not know what would be shown to her, but he seemed to think it would scare her. Instinctively she squeezed his hand. Then Bertrand nodded to the eight men before them.

That was when it happened. They all dropped down before her on their hands and knees. Then their bodies began to change, and their clothes were ripped to shreds. A gasp caught in Ingrid’s throat, but she could not breathe or scream.

They were all werewolves.