A Dragon's Path to Ascension Read online

Tharia always preferred her Verdure side, but at school she had still been required to practice her Obsidian magic. She hated working with gems, metals, and electricity, but right then she was glad she at least half paid attention. As her arm moved into a defensive position, droplets of liquid metal seeped from underneath her scales. They rapidly covered her whole arm and instantly solidified. The blade hit it barely a second later and slid off, screeching against the metallic surface. She threw a punch at his injured shoulder, exploiting the man’s momentary confusion. He cringed in pain. She fortified and extended her nails into what resembled iron claws. The victim watched wide eyed as her hand changed and shot straight for his heart.

  With two bodies at her feet she turned to the remaining three men. The noise of the fight had already drawn their attention, and two of them were running toward her. The last one stayed behind and was just raising his crossbow.

  “On your knees.” Tharia shouted in Draki. The crystal clear taste of the language washed through her mouth as she filled the words with power.

  The two running men instantly dropped to the ground, their knees burrowing into the soft turf. But even forced to do this against their will, they still continued moving forward, fighting off her command.

  Even worse, the bandit with the crossbow resisted her almost completely. For a brief moment his hand paused, and he hesitated, but then he raised his weapon. She looked at him, surprised. Tharia tried to dodge, even before the sound of the bolt cut through the air and reached her ears. But she wasn’t quite fast enough; and while the bolt missed her heart, it wedged between her ribs. Her cry echoed through the clearing and warm blood began to seep from the wound.

  Angered and adrenaline filled she joined her hands together in front of her. Sparks started flying between her palms. Slowly she pulled her hands apart and a growing ball of lightning formed in the air. With every pulse of pain in her wound, she loaded more energy into the sphere. The shooter hastily tried to load the crossbow again. That was his mistake. He should have run. By the time she flung the ball of energy at him it was larger than his chest, and it moved fast, lightning fast.

  She finished off the other two quickly—she had no reason to be cruel. With the fight over, her body gave her a painful reminder of her rib injury. She was lucky that the bolt missed her lungs or any other vital organs. Tharia unbonded Dru and left the dragonling perched on a high limb overlooking the scene of battle. She ran into the hut, but through her bond with Dru, she remained consciously aware of the clearing—the dragonling’s vision, hearing, and smell all filling her senses peripherally.

  Tharia wasn’t bleeding heavily with the wood still lodged in her side, but she knew she’d need something to stop the bleeding and prevent infection once the bolt was removed. While searching for the right herbs to combine, she quickly realized she didn’t have all the ingredients for the ideal mixture. But she was able to blend something that would tide her over until morning.

  She was glad she hadn’t sold that brandy bottle given as a payment for her services by one of the locals. She pulled out the cork and took several large gulps from it. That would help with the next step. Tharia cut the shirt from the bottom up to the bolt. Next, she pulled at the edges of the garment, lifting it up slowly, careful to avoid any more pain as she peeled the material from around the wound. Once removed, she tossed the shirt over the chair.

  Tharia hissed and bit her lip as she poured some of the alcohol over the exposed flesh. Then came the hard part. She walked up to the door and leaned against the door frame. She pressed her feet hard against the doorstep and wrapped both her hands around the visible part of the bolt.

  “One… two… three!” she pulled the bolt out and screamed.

  Blood started pouring from the wound afresh. Tharia stumbled to the table where she had left the bowl with the green paste and the brandy. She took a sip from the bottle and stuffed the mixture from the bowl into the hole inside her. It looked disgusting, but it stopped the bleeding, and she felt a pleasant warmth spreading through the wound not unlike the one that was forming in her stomach from the alcohol.

  Breathing heavily, she sat in the chair to rest for a moment and think.

  I can’t stay here anymore, she thought. If one Toivoan found this location, there could be others coming soon. She had her suspicions about the bandit group, too. No, she needed to find a new place. She’d had two peaceful years here, if she could find another secluded location, who’s to say she wouldn’t be able to do it again. But she had to clean up the place in the next few hours and get rid of the corpses. Especially the other Toivoan’s—they might have been rivals, but Tharia couldn’t let her body get into wrong hands. Even as empty as it now was with all the dragon essence gone.

  She got up and wrapped a bandage around her wound. She picked up the pot lid from the floor and took the soup off the flame on the off chance there was something edible left among the burnt pieces.

  Next, Tharia searched through all the bodies. The men didn’t have much on them, but she did manage to collect a small bag of Denars as well as a few good weapons—mostly knives and daggers. She weighed them in her hand and picked the two best ones to keep. She stuck one in the hidden sheathe along the inside of her tall boot and the other behind her belt. She gathered the other weapons and dumped them in a large trunk in her house.

  She also picked up some jewelry, mostly rings and signets. She wouldn’t be able to sell them easily—the unique pieces could be used to trace her steps. But she still decided to keep them; she could always melt them down once she had more time. With that thought she pushed the fistful of valuables into the space within her back.

  While patting down the leader, Tharia found some notes and letters. They didn’t say it explicitly but reading between the lines she figured that they worked for Ossentharians. This confirmed her suspicions, but was also partially good news. As they were hired thugs, it would likely be quite some time before the people who’d sent them realized their mission had failed.

  As quickly as she could, she prepared a small fire to burn the girl’s body. She closed the snake-like eyes of the half-Ascended and stared at the girl’s face for a moment. Tharia realized the Toivoan was younger than her, likely not even twenty years old. Saddened at the pointless loss of one of her kin, she pushed the body, as well as her own bloodied clothes, into the flames.

  She didn’t bother with the mercenaries. She hoped whoever came here next might confuse the burnt corpse for her. They were of similar size and build after all. She released the worms that were caught from the glass jar—with the girl dead, they disappeared into the ground within a few seconds.

  On The Run

  Tharia clutched the bag close to her side. There wasn’t much inside—money she took off the bandits combined with her own meager savings, a few healing herbs, all of the dried meat pieces and a handful of edible plants she had around the house. She tossed the old bandage into the fire still burning outside and straightened the clean shirt she had just changed into.

  A bit tipsy from the alcohol and chewing a painkilling leaf, she stepped over the body of the mercenary leader and disappeared inside the forest. She needed to get as far away from this place as she could and avoid being seen at all costs.

  After a few hours of traveling, she was desperate for dawn to come. She tried to fly to speed up her journey, but she realized this was a bad idea after just a few flaps of her wings. Flight required too many of the muscles around her wound. Walking was a slower but less unpleasant choice. Still, she tried to cover her tracks to impede any potential pursuers.

  The rain that caught her a couple of hours after midnight was both a blessing and a curse. It washed away her scent and tracks, but left her completely drenched and slogging slowly through mud. Exhausted, she stumbled across a stream. She decided to hide in the shrubs near the water and rest until the sun came up. She didn’t feel she had the strength that night to face the steep hills that rose ahead. So with Dru on her lap, Tharia fell asleep. />
  She was awakened several hours later by crunching noises—Dru was sitting next to her devouring a small bird, or what little was left of it. Tharia decided she did not want to share that taste and kept her link with Dru to a minimum, allowing the lizard some autonomy.

  The sun was already quite high up, she noted as she stood. She took the waterskin and filled it from the stream and drank deeply. Tharia knew her injury needed to be dealt with if she wanted to travel faster than the previous night. She put down her dark cloak and took off the brown long-sleeve shirt. She gingerly pulled at the edge of the bandage and wrinkled her nose in pain as the cotton peeled away from her skin. It looked a bit messy underneath as the dried blood had mixed with the green herbal paste she had applied the night before.

  She unwrapped the rest of the bandage and stuffed it into her bag. She dropped her shoes next to it and rolled up her trouser legs. Barefoot she stepped into the stream and cleaned the wound. Once finished she walked up to a sunny spot at the edge of the stream and sat on the grass. She reached out to Dru, and filled the creature with her presence. She cringed at the raw meat aftertaste still lingering in the lizard’s mouth. They bonded and Tharia sat down, ready to use her day healer abilities.

  As she began to use the restorative power of her Verdure magic, she closed her eyes and focused on sensing the grass around her. She turned her face toward the sun, taking in the warm rays. She felt herself rooting in the ground and connecting with the plants—grass, flowers, and weeds alike. As this bliss spread through her, tiny shoots sprouted from the edges of the wound, quickly filling the empty space within it and mending her body. Once the wound was completely sealed, a soothing heat spread through the area as the plant-like substance turned into flesh.

  She took a deep breath, stood up, and stretched her wings. She looked down at the spot of withered grass where she had sat. Everything has its price, she thought. Tharia didn’t dwell on that though, and she prepared to continue her journey. Wherever it might take her.

  * * *

  She flew a lot for the next two days. The woodlands were not so dense there and she could easily navigate the countryside. Tharia passed a few roads, and even saw a village in the distance, but she decided against visiting the first one she came across. She took a detour around it to minimize the chance of being noticed. On the third day, the forest dwindled significantly, and she spotted another village on the horizon. She left Dru in one of the tree tops at the edge of the scattered tree-line and marched towards the settlement, making sure on the way that none of her scales were showing.

  She didn’t spend long there. She bought some food, and purchased a pack mule from one of the local farmers. She even managed to haggle the price down a bit. No one expected a Toivoan to walk. She remembered something that had been constantly repeated in her aunt’s letters—that to remain hidden she ought to act like a human and avoid using her abilities. Her power was her greatest weakness—easy to trace by those who knew what to look for.

  After purchasing the supplies, Tharia spoke with several locals in an attempt to get some idea about the surrounding land and any neighboring villages. She asked where the nearest big cities and major trade routes were. In fact, she was interested in the small places with little traffic. And with a bit of Word Weaving, she managed to conceal her true intentions and steer the conversation the way she needed it to go. But if anyone came later, the people she spoke to would be convinced she was heading for a big settlement.

  She stuffed her bag and supplies into one of the large packs on her mule, and left the other one empty. She planned to keep Dru there. Hiding a dragonling was easy while traveling through the woods, but as she planned to use the roads in open terrain, she needed an alternative. Its wings were the biggest problem, but curled up, Dru just about fit inside.

  Tharia traveled across the countryside for several weeks, avoiding people whenever she could. She stopped only a few times to make sure she was heading in the right direction and to buy food; she was having a harder time hunting in the open. After another week, she finally decided on an area that looked like a good place to settle down. The location was isolated, and the village was just big enough for her to blend in, but small enough that she would be unlikely to run into Ossentharians, other Toivoans, or any of the mercenaries that hunted her kind.

  The day was sunny, typical for the beginning of summer. She led her mule at a lazy pace down a narrow road that wove its way through fields heavy with crops: corn on one side and wheat on the other. She knew the village was close—she heard children’s voices in the distance. Then a dark shape near the edge of the road caught her attention.

  She left the mule behind and came closer to investigate. She found a dark pile of fur that reeked of blood. At first she didn’t realize it was still breathing. Standing just a step away, she could hear the wheezing breath of what she could now see was a large dog.

  A bloodshot eye turned in her direction and she whispered calming words in response. The Draki sounds enveloped the creature, reassuring it of her peaceful intentions. She didn’t want it to spend its last moments afraid. The eye slowly turned away from her.

  Satisfied with the result, Tharia knelt beside the dog and examined it. With a spiked collar around its neck, it must have been someone’s pet. Multiple cuts, scratches, and bruises covered the body. It whimpered a bit as her fingers felt the skin under the fur. The animal was riddled with old scars, but the recent injuries looked like intentional stab wounds. The creature was a bloody tangle of ripped skin and bones. She wasn’t sure if she could do much for it, but she couldn’t leave the innocent animal in pain.

  “Sleep,” she commanded in Draki with both hands on the dog.

  Tharia called on her healing powers. Energy flowed through her into the animal. Shoots spread from her hands and burrowed under the creature’s skin. Accompanied by swooshing and crackling sounds, a green net formed inside the wounds pulling the flesh together. With wounds from nose to tail, the dog soon looked as if coated by a green, pulsing cocoon. After some time it dried and cracked, revealing healed skin underneath. She brushed her hand through the fur gently before pulling back. Her forehead was covered with sweat from the intense concentration. A bit dizzy from the effort, she teetered as she stood up.

  The dog slowly opened its eyes and looked gratefully at Tharia. She poured some water in her palm and the dog quickly lapped it up. It tried to stand up but still looked weak on its feet. The dog whimpered at her and she recognized it as a thank you of sorts. Animal languages were harder for her to understand than those of sentient creatures, but she got the gist. She patted it on the head and with a half-bark wished it well. After an acknowledging nod of its big head, it shook off the remains of the green mass and disappeared into the cornfield.

  Poor animal. People could be so cruel sometimes. She got back to her mule and made her way into the village.

  * * *

  Tharia settled down in the town. After staying with one of the farmers at first and helping out with the orchard, she moved to an abandoned hunter’s lodge at the edge of the forest. It wasn’t as hidden away as her previous place, but still, it suited her well.

  She wasn’t loved, but she wasn’t hated either. At first the kids would tease her, or even occasionally throw stuff at her. But she’d been through this before, and being an oddly dressed stranger with hermit habits made her an easy target. So Tharia just endured it and ignored them until they lost interest and left her alone. Sometimes one or another would sneak up to her house late at night, likely on a dare. But as soon as she opened the door, or even looked through the window, they would quickly scatter back to the village.

  Dru spent most of the days sleeping, hidden away at the lodge. This meant Tharia had to feed it more often than if they bonded, but she preferred to be careful and avoid anyone seeing her dragonling. Tharia never was a big flyer, so she wasn’t bothered by the lack of opportunities to spend time outside while bonded. A quiet evening at home with Dru nestled in
her back was fulfilling enough.

  Three months passed and she was starting to feel more relaxed and settled into a routine. She had a good working relationship with several farmers, though she tried to rely on her knowledge rather than use her powers. That raised fewer questions and she hoped would help her stay undetected by any who might be looking for her.

  The end of harvest season was nearly upon them. The trees in the orchard, planted in long rows, were heavy with apples. Tharia had been working since morning, and had just brought another full basket to the pickup cart. She grabbed an empty one from the ground.

  She stretched for a moment and took a sip from her waterskin. Her gaze wondered over the cart and beyond it to the house nearby. There she spotted one of the older boys leaning against the wall and scowling at her. But as soon as he noticed she was looking at him, he disappeared behind the corner.

  She shrugged and turned around to walk back to her designated apple tree. She worked alone near the edge of the orchard, but many of the other people formed small groups and chatted while working. During harvest, most villagers joined in sharing the work at the orchard or in the fields—the farmers needed the extra hands, and the townsfolk enjoyed the chance to gossip and earn a few extra Denars. As Tharia walked past them she caught bits of news and conversations.

  “Those no good kids! Running around in the fields with the dogs. Bryn really needs to get them to do some work,” one mother complained.

  ”I can’t believe Anishka kissed him,” a teenager gossiped. “A frog’s more handsome than Rommy…”

  “The prices of corn dropped again. Just got back from the market in Veluria. Wonder why I even bothered going at those rates.”

  “I heard that Oristan finally got their first Ascended Toivoan.” Tharia’s ears perked up at the older woman’s words. She had shared classes with the Verdure girl from the triple the Oristan prince had sired.