The Remarkable Children of Cordelia Kimball

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. In fact, until quite recently, no one had seen a dragon anywhere in Forellia in over a century. Not since the interloper, Rufus Garin, formed the bloody coup against the Rhella Dalaria Oathorne, gained the throne of the realm, named himself Rhellus, and declared all magic a crime punishable by death.

But that was all a long time ago. Practically ancient history, and none of it really mattered anymore anyway. Not since the rebellion. The great and wise Sarin Oathorne, great-great-great grandchild of Dalaria, fought and gained the throne back from the Garin line and freed all the magic folk of the realm. It was never in any doubt Sarin would win the throne. Ne had the elves, the fairies, the mages, and all the magical creatures of the realm by neir side. But most importantly, ne had the best general in the history of the continent. Cordelia Kimball.

Cordelia the Brave. Cordelia the Strong. Cordelia the Conqueror. Though to Clemency and her siblings, Cordelia had a very different title.

Mama.

But to six year old Clemency Kimball, the youngest and wildest of Cordelia’s children, had more important things on her mind.

The dragon.

She’d seen it three days ago, flying east toward the Jagged Mountains. Clemency knew from her research that the dragons of the realm traditionally made their homes in the caves of the mountains. But Verdant Valley was also vital to their life cycle. It was their nesting ground.

Clemency discovered this two years before when her older brother Juniper was teaching her to read. He bribed her to learn by showing her the large tome “Reptiles of the Realm.” He knew her well.

Clemency was a peculiar child, even in her rather remarkable family. She was a budding mage, there was no doubt about that. Her other parent, Everwyn, confirmed that when Clemency was only a baby. And since Everwyn was the Crown Mage, neir word could be trusted. There had been little doubt, since Cordelia had rescued Clemency as an infant at a witch burning. Clemency’s other mother, the one who gave birth to her, the one she didn’t like to think about very much, had burned that day. Cordelia was too slow to save the woman, but she saved the child. And from that day six years ago, Cordelia was Mama. She brought her back to her keep in the Verdant Valley and raised her alongside her other rescued children.

But Clemency’s magic took a peculiar turn that no one had been able to sufficiently explain. Clemency’s gift was specific. She couldn’t start fires or make things levitate, remedial skills of the average mage. But what she could do was much better. At least in her opinion.

She could talk to snakes. And lizards, turtles, basically any reptiles. And, Clemency hoped, dragons.

Clemency scaled the side of a small cliff. Two of her lizard friends, Hal and Ril, scurried ahead of her up the side of the stone, pointing out handholds to her. Around her neck, her very best friend in the world, a snake named Matilda, rested while Clemency did the hard work.

“You are getting too big for me to carry you like this,” Clemency said to the snake. Well, that was the meaning of what she said. The sounds that left her mouth were a series of hisses and sputters.

“I am only helping you become big and strong like your Mama,” Matilda hissed back. Cordelia let out a strangled laugh as Ril pointed out the last handhold before the edge of the cliff. As he did so, Hal scurried up her arm and into the mess of curls the color of desert sand on her head. Ril followed suit as Clemency pulled herself up and onto the edge of the cliff.

She collapsed backwards onto the sandy rock. Matilda darted her forked tongue out and tickled her nose and Clemency laughed. She was still just a little girl, after all. Who could resist laughing at a tickle?

She waited for the muscles in her small arms to stop burning and for the breath to return to her lungs. As she did, she watched the leaves from the coastal oak above her dancing in the gentle breeze. Finally, she pushed herself into a sitting position and scooched her bottom away from the edge until she could stand.

She dusted herself off as best she could, but she knew her sister Mabel would yell at her for being dirty when she got home no matter how much of it she got off. She gave up quickly and turned to face the trees and brush that crowned the cliff.

And there, not five feet in front of her, was the nest.

The eggs were half buried in the sand, a trio of them. All were about a foot tall, with the leathery exterior and mother of pearl sheen she expected. But two were already torn open. Only one, the smallest of the three, remained intact. It seemed neir siblings had left it to enter the world alone.

Clemency gasped as she saw a small horn poke through the leathery shell. She never dreamed she would be able to see the dragon hatching in person! She crouched down and sat on her haunches, watching the magic happen.

The horn poked out again, delicate and sharp. This time, it split the egg wide open, and a head followed. The head looked around. His scales were jet black, but as he looked around the light glanced off them and an iridescent rainbow was revealed. He looked down at himself and bit at the egg, tearing it open more. He stepped out and stretched his slimy, overlarge wings. They were so thin Clemency could see light through them.

He was beautiful. His golden eyes blinked up at Clemency. He let out a small sound, halfway between a hiss and a screech. Clemency repeated it. It wasn’t quite lizard speech, but it was close. He made the noise again. This time, Clemency understood it.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Clemency. I want to be your friend.”

“I’d like to have a friend.” Clemency loved this about reptiles. Human babies took so

long to be anything interesting. Clemency had met a few from the village and they were so boring in the beginning. But reptiles came out smart. They had to be. From the moment of their birth, they were alone in the world. They had to fend for themselves. Clemency loved how strong they were.

For the next few hours, Clemency sat chatting with the dragon. His name was Karieth. He knew this because his mother had whispered it to him when she laid her eggs, the only thing a dragon mother would give her young. His sisters hatched the day before. The first at dawn, the second at twilight. He hoped he would meet them again in this life, but he knew this was not guaranteed. Dragons had a very different view of family than humans did.

Clemency and Matilda watched as Kari, as Clemency decided to call him, tried to launch himself. Hal and Ril were too frightened of the creature to do anything more than shiver in Clemency’s curls. Kari was awkward with his wings. He took several awkward jumps with the wings not supporting his inconsiderable weight.

“Try flapping before you jump,” Clemency suggested. “That way it’s already going. The updraft may help.”

“Rich of you to try and teach a dragon to fly. Next would you like to instruct me on how to shed my skin?” Matilda teased. Clemency shivered. Nothing in the more sounded more

appealing than the ability to shed skin. She ached for it. She wanted to rub her small body against the sand and stones of the earth and peel away the old dead skin, revealing something fresh and shiny and new. It sounded absolutely divine.

But, while Clemency perhaps had no right to instruct a dragon on flight, her advice worked. Kari took off at a run, wings flapping as he ran. At last, he jumped headlong over the side of the cliff. Clemency gasped as he dropped from sight, but a moment later he appeared again, his delicate black wings catching the light of the fading sun and casting a rainbow against the sand.

Clemency jumped up and cheered as Kari glided in a lazy circle over her head. Unfortunately, his landing was not quite as graceful as his flight. He hit the ground and tumbled, head over tail, the horn on his head dragging a long, shallow trench across the sand.

Clemency ran to him and scooped him up in her arms. He was surprisingly light and felt so terribly fragile in her hands. But he simply shook off the dust and grinned his dragon’s grin up at her.

“Did you see me fly?” He asked

“Yes! It was very impressive,” Clemency said, in a tone of utter seriousness. “Now we need to work on your landings.” Kari nodded his head solemnly.

“Ahem,” Matilda said. She was lying at the edge of the cliff, her head stretched up to get a view of the road into the Valley. “I think it is time we head back to the keep. It seems someone will be there to meet us.”

Clemency spun around to see the road. There, a large carriage rolled down the dirt road. Clemency could almost make out the shape of a large woman in the back.

“Mama!” Clemency cried. And she took off running.

Cordelia Kimball spent her life collecting pieces of other people and pulling them into herself. When she spoke, she heard her mother’s voice coming out of her mouth. She gripped her sword with her father’s hand. She walked with her grandparent’s squared shoulders. She brushed her brother’s hair out of her eyes.

And one day, at the same time Clemency was climbing the cliff in the Verdant Valley, Cordelia sat in a large carriage with the curtains thrown open to temp in a late spring breeze, and she squirmed in her sister’s gown.

It was one of those large, frilly affairs Cordelia hadn’t worn in years. It was very well made but hastily let out to fit her well-muscled arms and back. The color was a pale blue, chosen because her sister said it complemented her dark hair. The hair in question, which was usually braided into a thick rope of black curls and fastened securely around her head, was now tied in an elegant knot, with thin tendrils left falling out to frame her face. Thank goodness her sister was as tall as Cordelia was, so the wide skirts could hide the only hint that she wasn’t the well- bred lady she pretended to be. She’d politely declined the thin slippers, opting instead for her typical, strong soled boots.

Her sister, one Estrilda Elendorf, tapped Cordelia’s shoulder with her fan, and Cordelia ceased her squirming. It was important that she not draw any more attention to herself than they already did. Against their backs, they could feel their weapons pressing into their backs. At their feet, Estrilda’s two dogs panted. One was an enormous sandy colored beast with a black muzzle and matching floppy ears. From her throat hung a delicately braided leather collar. Embroidered in the collar in Cordelia’s own hand was the name “Marigold.” On Marigold’s broad back, a

small, long dog with a slightly smushed in face snoozed. She was entirely black, except for a small white dot on her snout. Her collar was the twin of Marigold’s, with the exceptions that it was one eighth the size and bore the name “Rose.”

Cordelia and Estrilda were nearly as different as the dogs. They were both nearly six feet tall, but that was where their physical similarities ended. It wasn’t blood that made them sisters after all. Cordelia was sturdy and strong, an oak tree alone in a field. Estrilda was like an aspen, all long and thin. Her skin was as pale and soft as well-worn parchment. Her large, green-gold eyes always twinkling with laughter.

Cordelia winked at her sister and turned her own eyes, coppery and eternally holding a warmth the rest of her face fought to keep away, back to their surroundings. She tried to look dull and disinterested, a bored lady passing the time on a dull journey. But those eyes darted around, catching every inch of the encroaching forest.

One hundred yards away, two children crouched in the bushes. They were remarkably similar in appearance, both small and scrawny for their 9 years, with hair the color of the forest floor and eyes the cool gray of a winter morning. Perry, the ever so slightly taller of the two, wore his hair cropped short at his ears while his twin, Pippa, wore neir’s in a long braid down neir back. Pippa also wore a single red stone dangling from one ear, the kind typically worn by those without a gender.

Perry spotted the carriage as it turned round a bend in the road and brought his hands up to his mouth, and let out a sound that was almost, but not quite, exactly like that of a blue jay’s call. Pippa, meanwhile, laid flat down on neir stomach and grabbed a long rope. When the moment was just right, ne gave it a hard, sharp, tug.

The tug set off a series of events that lead to a long metal rod shooting out from something very like a miniature cannon, which propelled it in between the spokes of the carriage’s front wheels.

The carriage came to a lurching stop and, on that signal, a dozen fighters came pouring out of the trees, shouting war cries. Perry grabbed Pippa and pulled nem into a small ditch. As ne went, Pippa grabbed a blanket of leaves the two of pair had spent many nights sewing together and pulled it over them. They had a narrow slit through which to watch the spectacle as it took place.

Pippa and Perry had watched many of these ambushes, and they tended to follow the same pattern. The gang would pour out of their trees, shouting ten kinds of nonsense which terrified and confused their prey. The prey would scream as they saw the grimy ruffians coming at them with knives brandished. They’d throw up their hands and toss out their coin, begging the brutish bandits to please, take the money and let them live! The goons would oblige, while making many threats on the prey’s life and liberty while doing so. Occasionally, one or two of the braver sort would knock some swords about for a moment, but they were quickly seen too.

The scout had said that day’s prey would be the very easiest. It was two fine ladies, all in silk, and their dandy of a driver. He doubted they’d even need the weapons.

Pippa and Perry saw very quickly that the scout had been wrong.

Yes, it was two fine ladies. And yes, their driver was a small, reedy sort of man in silks as fine as the ladies. But when the carriage rammed to a halt, all three of them jumped out of the carriage, weapons drawn and ready.

Pippa and Perry watched the swirl of the women’s dresses through the narrow slit under the leaf blanket. One of them, the bigger one, who left two long daggers in her belt while she

fought with her fists and her feet, wore thick leather boots under her fine skirts. A soldier’s shoes. The weapons languished in their sheathes, they almost looked bored. It seemed that they were used to going without action. The woman hardly seemed to need them, even with empty hands she could hardly be called unarmed. She moved with equal parts strength and precision as the bandits fumbled around her like young rams trying to learn how to use their horns.

The other lady pranced with a long ebony and silver bardiche, a long spear with a head like a curved axe that came to a deadly point. None of the gang could even touch her, she moved with such speed and grace.

The two women moved around each other, fighting together, always with their backs to each other, always anticipating where the other would be. While the pair of them each fended off five attackers a piece, they were still able to notice when the other needed a hand. It was like watching a dance that had been choreographed over a lifetime of working in sync.

Meanwhile, two dogs wove their way in and out of the fight. One was a beast of an animal that probably weighed more than Perry and Pippa combined. When she stood on her back feet, she was taller even than Big Thom, the muscle of the group. She slammed her giant paws against his shoulders, knocking him flat on his behind. The smaller dog, hardly bigger than a rabbit, ran in and out through the feet of the fighters, tripping up the bandits while not a one of them could even touch her with their blades.

And through it all, the driver, the small, reedy man, raced through it with a rapier with a jewel encrusted handle. He was as skilled as his compatriots but fought with much more style. His feet twirled patterns in the dirt road as he jumped and sashayed around his attackers.

It didn’t take long for the whole thing to be over, even if it was a dozen on three. Well, five, with the dogs. The bandits where scary and tough, sure, but they didn’t have skill. They

never stood a chance. All twelve of them were unconscious or tied up. Pippa and Perry had hardly noticed that through the fight, from a small pouch at the large woman’s waist, a coil of rope snaked its way out and around the hands of and feet of the bandits, entirely of its own accord.

The large woman stood tall and stretched, her long, muscular arms reaching to the heavens. All of a sudden, she folded in half, touching her toes under her voluminous skirts.

“Ah, it’s been a while since I had a good fight,” the woman said. Her voice was thick and rich like honey. As much as she should have terrified Pippa and Perry, seeing as how she and her friends had just soundly beaten their gang, she somehow did not. That voice filled them with a sense of warmth, like putting your hands around a hot mug of tea, but for your whole body.

“Come take a look at this, Cordelia,” the other woman said. Her voice was slightly husky and musical, like songs around a campfire. She was crouched beside the wheel of the carriage, inspecting the rod lodged between the carriage wheels.

The large woman, Cordelia, crouched beside her. She looked at the rod, then looked behind her. Pippa and Perry were locked in frozen terror next to each other. Even if she did make them feel all warm, neither suspected it would be a very good thing for her to discover them crouched and hiding under their leaf blanket in the ditch.

They let it drop the last sliver and huddled as close as possible to each other. They could hear the woman moving closer to them and they could feel each other’s heart beats banging in harmony.

Then, with a flourish, the blanket flew off them.

Cordelia Kimball looked down at her feet, where two small, scrawny children, with hair the color of the forest floor and eyes like a winter sky, huddled together in the ditch. For a second, her breath caught in her throat. They were thin, far too thin. They flinched away from her like beaten dogs. Their grubby hands were clutched together.

A sudden image flashed in front of her, of another set of twins, a very long time ago. She pushed the image from her mind and dropped down onto her knee.

“Well. Hello there,” she said, keeping her voice soft and neutral, the way she would speak to a half-wild horse. “My name is Cordelia Kimball. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” She took her finger and drew a star over her heart, an oath to the mother goddess. That done, she held a hand out to the children.

After a long moment, it was the ever so slightly smaller one with the red droplet in neir ear that took it. Cordelia gently pulled nem to neir feet, and ne hauled neir brother up behind nem. He was more cautious, he stood slightly behind his twin.

“I’m Pippa,” ne said. “This is my brother, Perry.”

“That’s my sister, Estrilda,” Cordelia said. “And my friend Percival. And I think these folks might be your friends.” Pippa and Perry both spat at the word.

“They’re the gang,” Perry said. “They ain’t our friends.”

“Then why, might I ask, are you crouching in a ditch and helping them rob innocent travelers?” She sounded like she was trying to be stern, but the corners of her mouth twitched up. Pippa shrugged.

“We gotta eat,” ne said. “They give us food if we help em.” Cordelia nodded, thoughtful.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I bet out food is better than their’s. Would you like to have lunch with us? I’m always starving after a fight.” The twins looked at each other, having a silent

conversation. Cordelia could tell that Perry was the more hesitant one, but his twin wore him down. Finally, Perry nodded. Pippa looked at Cordelia.

“Sure,” ne said.

A few miles from the sight of the battle in the woods stood a small and slightly dingy inn. It was where Pippa and Perry slept the night before. Truthfully, the twins slept in the barn. They snuck in after the stable master locked up. Pippa was an expert at picking locks and Perry invented a small alarm system, so they would know when someone was coming and were able to hide. He’d built it the fourth time they’d been kicked out in the middle of the night of a place like this.

They slid into a bench in the corner while the big, muscular lady ordered them a meal. Neither of them said a word while they waited for the food to arrive. The adults, for their part, said quite a bit. The dancer and the dandy, Estrilda and Percival the big lady had called them, did most of the talking. The dandy was telling a story about when he’d been travelling in the southern city Lanmeir. It had something to do with a barmaid and a mage, but the twins were only half listening. The dancer seemed amused by the dandy’s story, but she challenged him at every turn. She danced even in conversation with him, twirling around the subject and leaping to new topics. The dandy kept perfect pace with her, sashaying and prancing in turn.

The big lady, Cordelia, watched the conversation with amusement, though a familiar kind of amusement, like she’s been watching the dance for years. Occasionally she would interject in the story, with a wry comment or question, but mostly she watched the twins.

She made a good show about not watching them. She wasn’t staring, she wasn’t expecting them to talk. But all the same, the twins knew they were observed. Normally this

would have bothered them. Most of the time, when someone took notice of them, it wasn’t a good thing.

Usually, when someone watched them, it was because they thought they would steal something. To be fair, that was often the case. Being watched usually meant being thrown out or getting a swift kick. Or both. Often both. But Cordelia didn’t make them feel like that.

Cordelia watched them because she wanted to make sure they were all right. They caught the relief on her face when the food came and both children ate heartily. They caught her eyes searching their arms and faces, finding the various bruises and scrapes, concern etched in the lines between her brows.

Still, it wasn’t ideal.

Once the plates were empty, the dancer and the dandy got up from the table, setting out into the stable yard to see about the horses.

“What are your plans now?” Cordelia asked the twins, one thick eyebrow arching down at them. Perry shrugged. Pippa stared blankly up at the large woman. “It seems your stream of income and protection has dried up. Sorry about that, but it had to be done. I can’t have bandits terrorizing people on lands that are under my protection. I’m sure you understand.”

She had a business-like tone in her voice, and Pippa liked it. Ne like the way that Cordelia talked to them like they were rational creatures, not pests, or even worse, children. But ne was still caught off guard, ne didn’t really know how to match the tone.

Under the table, Perry’s hand reached out and squeezed neir’s. Pippa squeezed back and squared neir shoulders.

“We take care of each other,” ne told Cordelia. “Always have, always will. We’ll find something to do.”

“I’m certain you will,” Cordelia told them. “That cannon thing, that was you two, wasn’t it?”

“Perry designed it. I built it.” Pippa told her. Cordelia couldn’t help but hear the note of pride in neir voice.

“Very good. So you’re the engineer,” she told Pippa, then turned to Perry. “And you are the inventor.”

“Perry doesn’t talk,” Pippa told Cordelia quickly. Ne knew that Perry didn’t like being examined, so ne was used to drawing the conversation back to neirself. Perry let out the tiniest little sigh, imperceptible to anyone but Pippa. Ne squeezed his hand. It wasn’t so much that Perry didn’t talk, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t quite sure why he couldn’t, but as much as he tried to make himself do it, no words ever passed his lips. He was very glad he had his twin. Ne could speak for both of them.

But both Pippa and Perry were glad when Cordelia smoothly blazed over the hiccup.

“I have a proposition for the two of you.” The woman said. Pippa and Perry both stiffened. When powerful people wanted to make deals with them, usually only the powerful person was the one who benefitted.

“You two are both clearly very clever,” the woman said to them. “And you see, I happen to have a problem with my well. I could use two clever people to help me figure out how to fix it.” The woman told them. “It might take quite a while though. You would be welcome to stay in my keep while you work on it. It’s quite a nice place, if I do say so myself. It’s warm and clean, and there are plenty of grounds for you to explore. When you aren’t working, of course. And I have a very extensive library. It wouldn’t do to let that cleverness go to waste and I have plenty of books from all over the world. You could read about math and science and philosophy.”

“I’m afraid we couldn’t, ma’am.” Pippa said. Ne tried to keep the shame out of neir voice, but ne could feel it creeping in. “Neither of us can read.” Cordelia waved that away.

“You are both young, and my family and I could teach you. I have three children, one of whom is only a little older than you. I’m sure they would love to help.” Perry’s heartbeat quickened. He had been waiting for this moment all his life. Someone to teach him how to read. All the world’s knowledge would be at his fingertips. He could learn about other great inventors and build even grander things. He squeezed Pippa’s hand hard, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of neir palm.

“What do you say?” Cordelia looked hopeful. After a beat, Pippa spoke.

“I think we have to see the well, and the keep, before we decide.” Pippa didn’t want to seem too eager, but ne could feel the excitement radiating off neir twin.

“Fair enough,” Cordelia clapped her hands and stood up from the table. “How about we get on the road? We should be able to get to the keep before sundown if we leave now.”

Perry dropped Pippa’s hand and jumped up. Cordelia smothered the smile that grew on her lips.