Nighte's Story

Nighte knew she did not belong. Her mind was not as sharp, her claws not as quick as even the slowest hatchling. She had to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of her parent’s unrealized expectations. 

Running away wasn’t as simple as she’d thought. First she had to evade every other dragon in her parent’s lair. Then she had to gather up some loose tools and gadgets, laboriously piecing together a ‘distraction’ for her escape. She had never been as good at tinkering as the rest of her family, but you couldn’t grow up in a Lightning flight without some inventing skill. 

Later, when she was older, Nighte would regret that her only good-bye was a BOOM and the sound of her retreating wings. 

But running away was not as simple as Nighte had thought it would be. She had some basic hunting skills, and her wings were some of the strongest in her parent’s clan. But barely two days away from her former home, Nighte was settling down to sleep. She was trying to ignore her aching wings and rumbling belly. She’d been too worried about getting as far away from the lair as possible, and hadn’t noticed when she’d run out of food. 

Sighing, Nighte wrapped her wings around her long body and tucked her chin up to her claws. It felt like she had barely gone to sleep when something long and thick landed across her back. Instantly Nighte was awake, roaring out her challenge as more ropes pulled against her scales. The dark was no impediment to her eyes, and she saw the longnecks surround her. With all the noise she was making, she couldn’t even hear their guttural speech. 

They had surprised her, and she was alone. Though Nighte scored several hits, leaving blood on her claws and teeth, her legs were soon tangled in their heavy woven ropes, and the first thing they had done was pin down her wings. 

Once she was tied firmly to the ashy ground, only her teeth free of the ropes, she stopped roaring. Nighte watched the barbarians talk in front of her, hot blue eyes glittering with satisfaction as they dragged away their wounded. How darethey interfere with her? How dare they even attempt to catch a dragon? Only they had caught her. Nighte snarled softly to herself as she was dragged slowly, painfully, away from the burned grove where she had tried to sleep. 

Time came, and time went, both in excruciatingly slow intervals.  She was left in an undignified heap at their first stopping place, the ropes that tangled her pulled tight and staked into the ground. Nighte could not move more than a foot or so in every direction, unable to bite or claw at the heavy bands. She was forced to watch as they set up felted tents that stank of wet hair, even in the depths of the Ashfall. 

A dead tree covered in embers served as a smoky cooking fire, though nothing was given to her. Nighte let her mouth gape as far open as it would go, tasting the sooty air and charred scent of the meat. She wondered who the roasting squirrels were for, since longnecks were notorious vegetarians. 

She flicked her tail uneasily, the plume on the end throwing ash into the air. Something about this entire setup seemed wrong to her. Well, even more wrong than her situation had been to start with. And as hungry as she had been to start with, the smell of roasting squirrel sent a virulent demand from her stomach, which gurgled loudly. Night snapped her mouth shut and glared at the rough laughter of her captors.

It seemed like she waited for days before anything happened, but the time lagged as her muscles stiffened on the ground. The meat was taken off the embers and wrapped in leaves, but still nothing was offered to her. The longnecks went about their business, ignoring her entirely. Occasionally Nighte strained against the ropes, just so she could stretch the tiniest bit, arch her neck a little. Anything to stop her from lying her passively. And just when she thought she might as well be dead, if nothing was ever going to happen, her quick ears began to pick out the faintest sound of wingbeats.

Her head jerked up against the ropes without her willing it; she had to swallow the roar she almost voiced. Still, the stupid llamas saw her reaction, and they began to panic. At least, Nighte thought that’s what they were doing. They packed away their own food and tents, then stood in a circle. Waiting for something.

Night watched in pained expectation as the wingbeats grew louder, and three dragons landed among the savages. None of the dragons looked the least bit surprised to see Nighte, and indeed they didn’t even look at the bound dragoness as they landed. The leader was a guardian with dark blue wings and silvery body, his eyes shining with the orange of the Fire flight. He spoke a few words of the longneck’s guttural tongue, and turned his head to a mirror standing behind him. The smaller dragon was a green and blue male, wearing a large-rimmed black hat and dark linen wrapped around his neck and tail. This one also proclaimed his allegiance to the Flamecaller with his burning orange eyes. He set down a small bag that clinked as it touched the ground. 

She could smell the metals in the bag even from the edges of the former camp, where she was pinned down so uncomfortably. The llamas passed their payment around eagerly, making excited snorts and whistles. Above it all the grey guardian watched with amused condescension. After a few moments, as Nighte felt dread growing in her bones, the guardian turned to his companions and clicked his tongue. 

From behind him and to his right, a tundra with red and orange fur stood up. Nighte caught a glimpse of his gold-yellow eyes before a bolt of pale energy lit up the clearing like a lightning bolt. It struck one of the llamas with the peculiar lack of sound common to magic, blasting it backwards. The only reaction of the barbarians was the cries of pain from the wounded one. 

The scene held, drawn out into unbearable tension. The guardian and mirror stared coolly into the suddenly terrified eyes of her captors. Nighte strained silently against her ropes, but even after her days of loosening the strands there was nothing she could do to either aid or hinder anyone in this fight. 

It was the mirror who broke the standoff, lunging forward and trapping one of the longnecks under his claws. The tundra lashed out with another bolt of energy, and the guardian moved with deliberate slowness as he slammed aside one of the llamas. Nighte snarled to herself as one of the savages fell against her side. She tried to lash out with her back legs, tried to claw him off her, but she couldn’t reach. As she watched the slaughter (for there could be no other word), she could feel the warmth of blood spatter across her shoulder. In under a minute, only the dragons remained. All except Nighte had taken wounds despite their obvious skill and only the tundra had any breath left at all. “And let that teach you to meddle with dragons.” He said, still with an air of detached amusement.

Nighte didn’t draw attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what these dragons wanted, but she was pretty certain it wasn’t well-wishing. The green mirror stalked up and cut her bonds, slicing them apart easily with his blood-stained claws. Nighte stood slowly, trying to keep an eye on each of the dragons as she shook out her wings and arched her long back. “Who are you?” She asked, not sure she wanted to know. 

“I’m called Sestican.” The green said, watching her with obvious appreciation. Such frank appraisal unnerved Nighte, but it also made her feel the tiniest bit vain. “My friends are Cindin and Smoke.” The tundra and the guardian nodded in turn. Nighte moved her weight to her back legs and rubbed her foreclaws together, hesitating before asking her next question.

“What do you want with me?”

“That can wait until later.” Smoke said brusquely, cutting across the answer Sestican would have given. “For now, you should come back with us.” There was concern in his voice as he added, “I dare say you could do with some food.”

Nighte swallowed and, after a moment, nodded. She wasn’t certain she could trust these dragons who the Longnecks had been willing to treat with. But she couldn’t deny she needed the meat. Her flight was clumsy after being tied down for so long, especially compared to the graceful acrobatics of Sestican. Smoke was steady but not effortless in the air, and Cindin looked like he was only tolerating the effort of flying, not enjoying it. 

The lair of the fire dragons was a bare and stony cave, decorated with gleaming insest of brass and copper on the outside. It had none of the bare functionality of the lightning lairs Nighte had grown up with, but neither did it look like a comfortable home. 

“I think I’ll wait here, and see what you can spare for me.” She spoke cautiously, not wishing to disturb any of their clanmates who might be sleeping. 

“Hello.” A bright voice spoke behind up from behind her. Nighte twisted her head around to see a bright red fae with gold wings land on a nearby outcropping. “Whose mate are you?”

Nighte frowned and glanced around, but Sestican and Cindin had already vanished and Smoke was halfway into the caves already. “No one’s.” She told the fae firmly. “I just stopped here for some supplies.”

The red chortled as if she’d made a fine joke, and let go of his burden of rocks. Nighte hadn’t noticed it until now, but the seemingly meaningless rocks were veined with some kind of ore, and shone with new colors in the red light of a nearby lava-flow. “I’m Alum.” He said, shaking out his claws as if the ores had been heavy.

“Nighte.” She said in return.

“It is a pretty one.” Alum agreed. Nighte was about to correct him when she caught the odd expression on his face, halfway between longing and envy. It unnerved her, and instead of speaking she turned away. Smoke was coming back towards her with several small animals in his mouth. These he dropped for Nighte, and she couldn’t suppress her stomach’s growling at the smell of the food.

“Thank you.” She muttered, and swallowed the first mouse nearly whole. 

Both Smoke and Alum watched her with an odd intensity, and Nighte felt her long mane start to prickle with unease. But she finished her food before she said anything potentially offensive to her hosts. “I’d better be going.” She said at last, not sure how they would react to her statement. “Long day’s travel and all that.” It was still dark out, but neither of them made that point.

“Oh, you mustn’t go yet.” Smoke said solicitously. “Why don’t you come in, stay a while? I’m sure you’re exhausted after your grand misadventure.” His words reduced her again to a runaway hatchling, when she had just begun to recover her pride. 

“I couldn’t...” Nighte began uncertainly, but Smoke overrode her with smooth sincerity. 

“Come, I insist. Rest for a time before you continue on your journey.”

She could not deny that a safe lair sounded wonderful right now, but she was reluctant to spend any more time here until she knew what was going on.

“Perhaps you should tell me what brought you and your clanmates to my rescue first.” She said, blue eyes starting to flash. It took more courage than she liked to admit to ask that, in the face of Smoke’s gentle concern. She felt guilty for even suspecting him of anything, but knew it was only reasonable that she did. 

“Ah. I think I shall leave you two to this discussion.” Alum said, bending to pick up his ores again. “Have fun Smoke.” He did not say goodbye to Nighte, but then, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. Smoke eyed her thoughtfully, as if deciding what to say. Nighte just stared back at him, knowing that if she didn’t like what he said she could be gone in a moment. 

“Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll tell you.” He said at last. Nighte almost shook her head, but after a moment she started walking, Smoke following close behind. He gave directed her through the caves, calling out turnings from behind her as she walked. She didn’t see many other dragons in the labyrinthine tunnels, but that was to be expected at this hour. Those she did glimpse seemed in a hurry to get away from her. “This nest here is mine.” Smoke said at last, and Nighte stepped into a modestly large nest, decorated with bits of bone and feather he’d found. Several rare ores glittered in corners, catching at her eyes. 

The two of them crowded the nest a bit, with her long coils and his stiff scales, but after a moment both were settled comfortably. Nighte only now noticed that he had managed to sit right in front of the entrance, while she was towards the back of the nest.

“We didn’t know who the caravan would bring, but we knew where they would be.” He began in his calm, soothing voice. “That tribe has been stealing dragons they catch and selling them.”

“Like you bought me.” Nighte said coldly, and it wasn’t a question. Smoke shook his head slowly.

“We had to disarm their suspicions, didn’t we? I assure you, fair Nighte, we did not intend such a ‘purchase’ to go unpunished.” Despite her own suspicions Nighte found herself swayed by his words, and she found her muscles relaxing in the warmth of the cave. 

“So I’ll be free to go?” She asked, tilting her head to one side and watching him closely for lies.

“Of course. But I do hope you’ll stay a little longer.” Smoke said, his voice so calm and reasonable. Night yawned, though she didn’t have room to stretch in the small cave. “Then I suppose I should thank you for your hospitality.” She said sleepily, putting her head on the floor and closing her eyes to slits. 

“No, it is I who must thank you.” Smoke said, but the words made very little impression on the half-asleep Nighte.

Smoke had no magic of his own, but he had agreed with Cindin on the price of the enchantment. The first nest of the imperial’s eggs must go to Smoke, of course, but the second mating of this new dragoness would go to Cindin.

The tundra had been born among the tumbled stones of the Sunbeam ruins, and had a stronger grasp on magics that most everyone in this clan.

While Nighte slept, that tundra came to the doorway and nodded to Smoke. It had to be done now, before she woke with all her suspicions reawakened. The grey Guardian slipped out, to take care of some other nighttime business he supposed. It did not concern Cindin, and so he didn’t spare a thought for it.

There was a soft glow that illuminated the interior of the nest brightly for a moment. AFter the spell was cast, there was no need for anyone to stay and watch Nighte. She wouldn’t be going anywhere on her own.

When Nighte woke, she wondered first where Smoke had gone. She didn’t want to be alone in their nest. She stretched slowly, wondering at her absent-mindedness lately. She could have sworn she’d spoken to Cindin about coming to get her in the mornings. As it was, she waited impatiently for her Smoke’s return, straightening the piles of ore so that they would catch the most sunlight from the small window.

When he finally appeared, Nighte was sitting curled in a disconsolate heap. But she brightened when she saw her mate, and rubbed herself along his full length. “I missed you this morning.” She purred.

“I had something to do.” Smoke said, but he did not reproach her for the thought that he was at her convenience. “Ready to go out?” he asked, and Nighte sighed, resting her head on his haunches. 

“Maybe. Depends on what else you want to do today.” 

Smoke chuckled. “Cindin did well.” He said, opening a wing to allow her to snuggle closer.

“At what?” Nighte asked, turning again so that she was pressed against him from chin to tail-tip. 

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He said at once, and Nighte accepted it.

She stayed in that clan for years upon years. Any hatchlings did not belong to her, but to the father. Most often this was Smoke, but when he promised her children to others she had no say. The worst thing was that she didn’t even want a say. It all belonged to him. She lost her name for a while. She had no need for it, for she was Smoke’s. His identity was enough for both of them. Why would she need her own?

Later, she would claim that her memories of the time vanished with Cindin’s death, but it would be a lie. She recalled every moment of her servitude and humiliation, and far worse than that, her acceptance of it as her due. Smoke, Sestican, and Cindin were the clan’s main representatives in the outside world, all of them such smooth talkers that the secrets of the clan would never become too apparent. 

At one such meeting between them and the world, battle broke out. Numbers were equal, three dragons of Gladekeeper’s ilk  come to seize this part of the ashy wastes, to encourage wild green growth here as well.

Freedom came with a rush, and a feeling of a veil being lifted from her mind. Nighte stopped talking to better examine the feeling. As she did so, her eyes widened with horror and anger.

“Are you alright?” Alum asked, sounding more concerned than anything. Nighte shook her head wordlessly, almost gagging with the sudden strength of her emotions. She had drifted in a peaceful haze far too long. She looked around the entrance to the lair with eyes that were open for the first time in years. 

Her mouth opened and shut several times as she tried to form words after what had happened. What she saw of herself. “Get away from me.” She warned Alum, who had spread his wings as if to land on her. “I know what you’ve done.” She was still more shocked than anything, but shock was rapidly giving way to anger. “I swear to all the gods you won’t get away with it.” She warned him. “Just wait.” Her wings unfolded of their own accord, for the first time since her arrival she was furious. 

“Wait.” Alum looked shocked and confused. “What are you doing?”

Nighte laughed, a laugh that had no mirth and quite a bit of bitterness in it. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving you and your awful clan behind.” Her eyes narrowed and she spoke with such deep bitterness that even Alum flinched from her words. “Keep the hatchlings you stole from me. I’m sure they wouldn’t know me from a stranger. But if you come looking for me, you or anyone from this dead-ember clan, I swear I will kill you.” 

She had not planned to be flying so soon after recovering he own mind. But the feeling of wind through her mane, the rhythmic beating of her wings both served to calm her, and so she went on. 

The instinctive rippling of her body gave her an almost snake-like appearance in the sky, though her black body was difficult to see against the dark clouds that always hung over the Ashfall.

She didn’t know where she was going, she only knew she was going away. Somewhere she could stop the burning shame and hatred that kept her aloft right now. Somewhere...cold. As cold as she wanted to be. Where she could immerse herself in ice and forget the heat of her bitterness. Forget the lost love of her hatchlings.

Even after she’d arrived, Nighte didn’t really know why she was there. She had flown south, and south, and south some more. Until the ocean had come and gone under her wings, and the ice spread out below her. She spent a lot of time there, moving from floe to floe and praying as she went. She was alone for a long time, and for a long time she preferred it that way. She fished as often as she hunted, and found that the scarcity of food on the floes was still more than enough to sustain her. And one day her eyes turned a much lighter shade of blue. Her black fur grew thick to keep out the cold, and her claws were sharper from her walking across the deep frozen ice. 

Acceptance grew in her like the hardy flowers of the tundra, slowly, but with great determination. She could not change what had happened, but she could stop it from changing her. So when she saw a shadow growing on the ice near her, she did not run, but looked up. Another imperial was circling her place on the ice, descending rapidly. She let him land, though they were separated by a wide gap between ice pieces. 

“Hello.” He called across, folding his wings and looking friendly. 

“Hello.” Nighte replied cautiously, swishing her tail slowly from side to side. For a minute the only sounds were the creaking of ice beneath them, and the lapping of water under that. 

“What brings you around here?” He asked inquisitively, sitting slowly. 

“I’m looking for someplace to settle down.” Nighte didn’t know what made her say that; she hadn’t even known it was true until a moment ago. 

“Oh. Well, welcome.” 

She hadn’t expected a lot of things, but not that. Not a simple welcome that demanded nothing from her. “Thank you.” Nighte said, the feeling in her words more sincere than she’d wanted them to be. 

The imperial grinned and shook out his wings. “If you stay for any length of time, we’ll see each other again. Don’t be sure you’ll be happy to see me all the time.” He sounded more self-mocking than ominous, bluntly spoken but cheerful. Nighte watched him fly off with something like amusement, and perhaps a hint of admiration.

His name was Mercor, and he told her he’d loved her from that first sighting on the ice. Their courtship was as slow as the ebb and flow of their icy home, but Nighte did not take long to realize that she loved Mercor as well. Free of the daze Cindin had trapped her in, each emotion was sharper, razor edged and cutting with a pain she relished. 

Time was no longer a thing to watch go by, but something to be relished. Deep in the Icefields, they found that the cold embraced them both. And thus, the Winterling clan was founded.