The Scale of Destiny

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. I made sure of that. I had done absolutely everything in my power to make sure of that.

“You can’t do this,” Esmina said, my faithful friend. She’s been with me since we were children. While I gravitated toward hand-to-hand combat and medicine, she veered to books and secrets. We are twin flames. Like yin and yang, one cannot exist without the other. And right now we were seated at her table, a place where we shared food and wine as well as words of love and pain. Tonight this meeting held words of pain, though I wished for anything else. “You saw what they did to your family. They’re looking for you, Rusalka.” Rarely did she use my full name, and I flinched. Her expression softened, “Rue, you spent your entire life hiding and helping the dragons of the Valley. How can you be okay with this?”

An island nestled between two mountainous kingdoms, the Valley always skated by with its head down. It was hopeless enough that nobody wanted to conquer it. But it was useful enough that nobody wanted to destroy it. It was a place of refuge and tumult. A place for damnation and redemption. There were no laws and there were no constabularies. The Valley was a place for discreet stops, where someone might go to meet an acquaintance they don’t want to be seen with, or barter a trade for something that shouldn’t be on the books. Although considered dangerous, I’d never found a safer place.

The two kingdoms, Mogadore and Riton, have been at war for as long as the history books can remember. Never able to agree, they created massacres verging on genocide, tearing down towns faster than they could be rebuilt. The monarchies blamed the gods, acting in their names to gain power, land, and bodies. The world lived in fear. Standing at the top of the turmoil were the dragons. Evil, inhuman men, dragons considered themselves holy men, mouthpieces of the gods. They infiltrated homes and castles, preaching in the gods’ name. Any wise ruler would be terrified to go against a dragon because to go against him was to go against the word of the gods.

“I already thought about that and it’s simple. They were our neighbors, sons, brothers, even fathers. But now that the Weyr have them, they are no longer ours,” I replied.

“What if you see Tommy or Kristan? They belong here with us. You love those boys.”

“Loved. They’re now dragons. They belong to the Weyr.”

Esmina crossed her arms with a scowl. She wasn’t one to go down easy; even in defeat, she took on a form of defense. “Fine. Since I can see there’s no hope in getting through to your thick skull, I’ll give you what you asked for.”

“Minha nin,” I reached to embrace her.

“A sister would not let you do this. I am your gallû, for aiding you” Esmina pushed me away with disgust leaving my arms empty. She stood up and shuffled to her desk, her enceinte body making even the easiest of tasks difficult.

“Don’t be dramatic. There’s no such thing as de-“

“Demons are everywhere and you’re a fool to pretend they’re not. Here.” She thrust a scroll in my direction, leaning against the wood. I sighed, stood up, and cautiously approached her. Esmina kept her eyes on her other hand as it caressed her swollen belly, not even flinching when I released her from the papyrus weight. I gingerly placed my fingers over her unvaried motion, hoping to offer peace. She stilled at my touch and we stood there feeling the movement of the unborn child beneath our palms. “You have until the sun comes up,” Esmina said, walking away and leaving me empty for a second time tonight despite her small gift.

“I’m doing this for you as well, Esmina,” I said, stopping her in the corridor. “Next week is the black moon. If she doesn’t come soon she has a chance-“

“We do not yet know the sex of this babe. But I do know what it has a chance of becoming. And if it’s the gods’ will, then so be it. I just can’t lose both of you.” I watched her shadow disappear into the bedroom where her sleeping husband and wife lay. I took the moment to mourn the loss of my partner. I’ll never feel the comfort of crawling into bed next to my husband’s warm frame again. I’ve lost the chance to steal one last kiss on his tempered brow while he slumbered listlessly. With his death, a library was burned and I will never be able to tap into that knowledge ever again.

To bear a dragon is a dubious honor that’s repaid with acceptance into Empyrean, the eternal resting place. Immediate acceptance. However, this translates to imminent death. As religion goes, there are many after-deaths; one can get stuck in limbo with their purpose being unfinished. Most commonly, when reborn, one still must prove their worth. People spend their lives praying to and obeying the gods to gain access to Empyrean. However, only the dragons and those that bear them gain admission. Your only hope is that you paid enough penance to come back in the next life as a dragon.

From birth, our past lives are marked by dots trailing along the inner wrist. Dragons are born every month under the silver moon and will only be male. Any woman due after the black moon is pulled into a maternity home to ensure the dragons claimed their rightful son. Those women would pray night and day for a baby girl. Unlike humans, dragons’ lives are marked by vibrant scales hiding among their bodies. Once the newborn babe’s skin touches the light of the silver moon, the iridescent graft makes itself known, marking the boy as a dragon. If his scales are inconspicuously placed, a dragon may pass for a human man. Once, long ago, it was an honor to be born a dragon. Now, it’s viewed as a curse. Families have fled their homes when they find out their child is due during the waning of the silver moon. Dragons have become monsters, fire-breathing snakes that leave blood-red trails of death in their wake.

I was different, rather than marked with dots or scales, a single star decorated my inner wrist. Before their death, my parents warned me to always tie a cloth around my wrist, to keep prying eyes from asking questions. I was born and raised on the island, but my parents were what they called washashores. A washashore is someone who was born off-island. You could live in the Valley for fifty years and still be a washashore. But it didn’t make much of a difference, the island accepted everybody. And like all island life, it was a small place where everyone knew you whether you wanted to be known or not. You could make your life easy or hard, but either way, it was entirely up to you. I’ve always kept to the shadows, marking myself a head-down kind of woman, like the island on which I resided. I never gave anyone reason to bother me. I couldn’t. You see, I had too many people risk their lives to know me. I had a husband and a son to protect. I was known only as a healer who ran a small apothecary. But now that the Valley was seething with dragons, I’ve decided no more. Now that I’ve stood in the ashes of my apothecary, my husband, and my son, they will know my name. I will be found out as the one who brought the dragons to the Valley, and I will be known as the one who slew them all. Just as I know their fire, they will come to know mine.

I returned to my chair, opening and devouring everything I could from the scroll. Esmina may not know how to take down a full-grown man with her body weight, but she does know every secret that passes through the island. They consider her a keeper of sorts, one of books and information. If word got out that she carelessly lent such information to a friend, she would disappear without a trace. People went to her because she was trustworthy and discreet. She was not somebody who could be bought. The manuscript I held contained the old-names of every dragon alive and their rank. In order for my plan to work, I needed to understand how they functioned. For years I kept the dragons hidden in the Valley. I concocted a serum that hid their scales so long as they kept within the boundaries of my apothecary's reach. I riddled the glass of the building with crystalline that I wove powerful enchantments into. When bounded they emanated protection from the walls, all the way to the shores of the isle. As long as you stayed on land, you were covered. Dragons were never found and many believed this island was cursed. But now that the building was destroyed, the bond was severed and the guise was lifted, revealing those I had protected and hid. The piece I can’t figure out was how they knew.

Two days before the fire the dragons took port, which isn’t unusual, but they disembarked and took residence in the nearest transient room and board. They never left their ship and they never stayed longer than a full day. I had been tending to an ailing patient that took me away for days and when I finally returned home there was nothing but rubble and ash, though I didn’t need to go home to figure out what happened. I knew the moment my apothecary shattered because every single concealed scale blazed through the darkness. I can still hear their screams, rolling through me like a tidal wave crashing onto the rocks beating every last shrill into my memory. You will never know the pain that sound creates. The once hidden dragons were ripped from their homes and dragged onto the ship. Every last one of them. I collected shards of crystal from the rubble but they didn’t do much unless they were on your person and by that time it was too late for any of my dragons to be rescued.

With the sunrise, I had a name and a solid plan. Commander Sergey Cloudot. Hailing from Riton, Sergey was near my age, young enough to remember his old-world, but ranked high enough that his importance would be useful. I left a small tincture and a wrapped shard on top of the scroll. It was all I had left and I prayed to the gods it would be enough for my dearest friend. I slipped out before the first rays of sunlight flared through the window, flooding the only place I had left in a warm glowing orange.

It wasn’t difficult to find Sergey, or Sery as his peers called him. Gossip spread like wildfire among the Islanders, and I easily figured out not only which board they were occupying but also how many were still here and their daily activities. After memorizing each of their faces, voices, and mannerisms, I was fairly confident I knew each of their old-names. Sergey was the only one from the far south of Riton and they pronounced their R’s in an odd way. After a few ale’s you could hear that R in certain words no matter how many years one had been away. He had a single scale that reached from his cheekbone to his jawline, at least from what I could see. He was taller than I imagined and had a charm to him despite the facial deformity, making him popular among the crowd. I could use that to my advantage and approach him openly, as he usually took a few courtesans to bed with him every night. With the black moon merely days away, I needed to act, and I prayed his preference was women tonight.

I took a deep breath and strode up to his table.

“I believe you dropped this, Commander,” I said, holding out a jeweled knife.

Sergey eyed the dagger and did a quick pat-down of his body. “Thief!” He roared, grabbing my arm. “How dare you steal from a dragon!”

“My Law, I am no thief. I’m humbly returning what is rightfully yours. If I were a thief would I do that? If you wish to know where I found it, I’d be more than happy to show you.” I bowed, still holding out the dagger as an offering.

He studied me a moment, taking in my well-fitted clothes, decorated with trinkets showing wealth. I hoped he would be able to make out my muscular body underneath, a form no thief or beggar would have. “I may have been too callous in my assumption.” He cupped my chin and guided me upright so we were standing eye to eye. Then he slid his hand down my arm and gently took the dagger from me. It took everything in my body not to shudder with disgust. “It would please me greatly if you could show me where you found this.” He released me and stepped back, gesturing with his hands to lead the way.

I lead him up the stairs to the door I was certain was his.

“So you went through my things and 'found' my dagger?” He unlocked his door and held it wide open with a smirk.

“No my Law, I found it lying next to the door. I asked the barmaid if she knew who’s room it was so I could return it,” I replied.

“Interesting. But I don’t believe you.” He grabbed my dress collar, pushing me through the doorway and yanking me to him. He put his knife to my throat and kicked the door shut. “Now tell me, why did you think it wise to bring me up here? You’re no courtesan and you’re certainly no desperate thief. How did you steal my dagger?”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so careless with your things, my Law.” With that I took his wrist holding my fabric and threw my hands hard to the ceiling, releasing his grip. Before he could counter, I grabbed his collar with both hands, jumped onto his thighs, and pulled him downward, throwing him over my head. As soon as he landed on his back, I flipped upward and propped myself onto his chest, catching his raised arm against my body, he was still trying to desperately keep his knife on me. I ripped it from his grasp and held it to his throat. “I think there’s something you should see.” I held the blade up allowing him to view his reflection in it from the glowing fireplace.

“What did you do to me?!” He bellowed.

“Something I’d been doing in secret for a long time to hide our dragons. After you gallûs took everything from me, I’m ready to repay the favor.”

“Rusalka Lafayette.” Sergey reached with his free hand to caress his face. Where a shiny scale once lay, smooth skin had taken its place. He was a scaleless dragon. “How?”

“Did you enjoy your ale?”

“Can you change me back?” He whispered.

“That depends on what you can do for me.”

“I cannot help you, the Weyr call for your head. They’ll murder me in the blink of an eye.”

“Do you think they’ll accept you looking like that?” I questioned.

“But you will change me back?” He pleaded.

“If I don’t die, yes. I will change you back.”

“Good.” In a blink, his demeanor transformed from pathetic to utterly venomous. He bucked me off and twisted around so his arm I held hostage was now tight against my chest. He brought his free arm to my throat and squeezed. Gasping, I reached out and tore at him, desperate to breathe as the world around me started vignetting. He yanked my arm and I felt a slight pull as my cloth fell away, revealing my inner wrist. I heard Sergey gasp, though it sounded far away. “I thought you were a myth.” The words barely reached my falling consciousness as the world went black.