Not this time, Aleirya thought, her knees clutching her dragon’s back as she leaned forward.

Her sharp gaze pierced through the darkness as she scrutinized the shoreline below them.

Jaw clenched and ready to plunge toward the roaring waves from their hiding place, she waited, ignoring the bored hum that reverberated from her dragon’s throat.

“This is ridiculous,” said the dragon and huffed, black smoke bursting from her nostrils. “We’re supposed to be on patrol, and instead, here we are hunting some tiny creature.”

Readjusting her grip, Aleirya kept eyeing the coastline bordering the enormous, jagged cliffs and replied, “You mean a draspith, Takhéa. The two of you aren’t so different.”

This time, the dragon growled.

“They are simply fortunate enough to have hatched from a dragon’s egg, but that’s where our similarities end. I am nothing like a draspith… pitiful, small critters,” Takhéa muttered.

“They are dwarf dragons,” Aleirya began, but she stopped when her dragon snapped her teeth.

Takhéa turned her enormous head toward her, growling again, and Aleirya saw the dragon’s large eyes, the one violet, the other a bright silver, widen as the slits of her pupils thinned to fine black threads.

She could feel her dragon’s onyx scales vibrate beneath the tips of her fingers just before the strange sensation climbed up her arms.

With a grin, she tapped Takhéa’s shoulder in apology and then fixed her eyes once again on the shore.

They had seen the draspith, or dragonspark, return to this place many times before; here where the enormous cliffs of Tarragon, the realm of the Dragon’s Kin, ended and bordered onto the Dhaharran Forest—a vast terrain expanding over thousands of acres, separating Tarragon from the elven kingdom.

The forest was home to the mysterious Metatari, or shapeshifters, half human, half beast, with a pair of heterochromatic eyes defining their race and symbolizing their coinciding wild and hominid nature.

The clever creature had always managed to escape, but tonight Aleirya was determined not to let that happen.

The rock began to crack and crumble beneath Takhéa’s talons as the dragon shifted, crawling along the face of the cliff.

Rubble came loose and plummeted toward the waves below when Aleirya warned, “Careful, you’ll give us away!”

The dragon snorted and answered, “You give the draspith too much credit.” She paused before adding, “Why is this so important to you, anyway?”

Aleirya let out a long sigh, trying her best to concentrate on the hunt, and replied, “I overheard Zannia and Thoran talking the other night. It was something about my father, or at least I think it was. Either way, I have to know if it’s true.”

“You assume the draspith can tell you if it is?” Takhéa asked in return.

“Yes. I read that their magic can decipher the truth,” Aleirya answered.

“And you discovered this in one of those books you stole from Sir Odynn’s library?” asked the dragon.

“Borrowed—you mean borrowed. I intend to return it,” she muttered.

“Hmm…” Takhéa replied. “Even if that is true, I doubt the draspith will let you use its magic after you render it unconscious and capture it.”

“I’ll figure out a way,” Aleirya snapped.

“How did you get the sleeping powder, anyway?” Takhéa continued to probe her. “I doubt Kalithea gave it to you without asking questions. Talk about sticky fingers…”

Aleirya set her jaw and ignored the last of her dragon’s words.

“I got it from the dragon shelter about a week ago. I’m going to put it back as soon as I’m done with the draspith,” she answered.

“Be careful! That powder is used to put an actual dragon to sleep. There’s no telling what it could do to a draspith should you use too much. Perhaps you’ll kill it,” said Takhéa.

“I will not kill it,” Aleirya grumbled. “I know what I’m doing.”

A sound akin to a chuckle bubbled from her dragon’s throat. But before Takhéa could add another snide comment, Aleirya interrupted. “There it is!”

Leaning forward over her dragon’s massive shoulder, she pointed to the bottom of a steep slope ahead that abutted the stony shore.

There, along the side of the cliff, a small dark shadow scaled the rocky wall.

Something must have spooked it, as the draspith spouted a bright gust of flames while it scampered along the shore and up the cliff side, catching Aleirya’s attention.

The corners of her lips twitched upward, and she spoke. “Now!”

With one powerful thrust of her legs, Takhéa pushed off the mountainside and plummeted toward the shore.

Bending forward, Aleirya’s whole body stiffened, and she pressed her knees harder against her dragon’s back. Excitement bubbled within her as the wind whistled past her ears, and her stomach lurched from the plunge.

She clutched the last large spike of Takhéa’s ridge that trailed down her long neck and ended in between her shoulder blades, holding on as tightly as she could.

The dark sky concealed Takhéa’s black hide, making her almost impossible to spy. She would only become noticeable once it was too late.

They had almost reached the slope when the draspith turned its head and caught sight of them.

A high-pitched screech shot through the air from its gaping mouth that made Aleirya wince, and the creature scrambled into motion.

Takhéa spread her wings wide just in time to slow their flight before her talons buried themselves into the face of the cliff where they landed above the draspith.

The rocky surface gave way at first, and they slid down the slope before the dragon secured her hold.

Takhéa’s whole body shook at the roar that rose from her throat while her long neck curved downward toward the small creature.

She crawled toward the draspith, forcing it to retreat, the waves crashing loudly below them.

Having cut off its path upward, the only escape was flying or dropping into the icy water below; both of which Aleirya knew the dragonspark would try to avoid, since its short wings wouldn’t carry it far, and like an actual dragon, a draspith hated water.

Tugging at the spike on Takhéa’s back, determined to grab her dragon’s attention, Aleirya spoke calmly. “Remember, I only need you to secure it. I need it alive.”

Another rumbling sound reverberated through her dragon’s teeth when she replied, “I’m not making any promises.”

“Takhéa,” said Aleirya, but the dragon refrained from replying.

The draspith let out another screech, its body glowing from the fire that built inside it.

As if meaning to distract the great dragon before it, the dragonspark let out a burst of flames and, all at once, flapped its undersized wings and sprang from the rock. Transitioning into the air and barely gliding over the rolling tide, it dropped onto the escarpment and scampered away.

Takhéa leaped after it and landed on the shore. The dragon swung her neck forward and nearly seized the draspith’s tail, missing it by a hair’s breadth before it jumped and crawled inside a fissure in the cliff side.

Aleirya quickly slid down Takhéa’s back and ran toward the cleft where the draspith had disappeared.

It seemed to continue deeper inside the cliff, and the space was just wide enough that she could squeeze inside.

“Hurry and be careful, Aleirya,” her dragon warned from behind her. “We are awfully close to the forest… We shouldn’t stay here for long.”

The dragon had stretched its long neck to its full length and gazed outward toward the imposing line of trees near them, where the Dhaharran Forest began.

Aleirya smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “Relax. The Metatari never venture this far outside their territory. We’ll be out of here with the draspith before you know it.”

She cast one more look at Takhéa over her shoulder, winked, and then slipped inside the cleft.

As quietly as she could, she continued through the narrow passage, listening for the slightest sound of the draspith.

The darkness grew thicker around her as she followed the winding trail that led her deeper and deeper inside the cliff, the path before her as clear as if cast in daylight thanks to her inherent dragon’s blood.

A strange scratching sound like the scuffing of boots against the ground or something scurrying across gravel echoed from the cool depths of the cleft.

Instinctively, Aleirya’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger strapped to her right thigh, the practiced tug of her wrist tacitly drawing the blade from its sheath.

The scraping grew louder as she got closer to its source; then Aleirya heard a thud as if something had tumbled or someone had tripped and fallen.

Her heart beat fast, and holding her breath, she whirled around the corner, prepared for anything lurking ahead.

A whistle chased through the dark space as the dagger’s edge cut through the air, following the movement of her body; but its threat was pointless.

Aleirya frowned as she stared at the dead end of the tunnel. Nothing explained what she had heard.

Irked, she kicked at the ground, her boot striking a pile of rocks just as a small burst of flames flared through the darkness from above her, and she jumped.

Her gaze swept upward toward the direction of the fiery light, and she saw it.

Its body glowed once more from the blaze that had erupted from its throat, the spikes along its spine and tail gleaming bright red. Its tiny wings fluttered and an orange tongue flicked from its mouth as the lizard-like creature stared down at her, tilting its head from side to side while perched on a small ledge protruding from the rock above her.

There you are, Aleirya thought as she eyed the draspith.

The creature continued to tilt its head back and forth, releasing a chirping sound as it continued to watch her.

The draspith was only a fraction of a normal dragon’s size. Having hatched from a dragon’s egg as a dwarf dragon, their existence was brought about by a rare mutation no one had yet understood.

They could not speak or bond with one of her people, but like the true dragons, whispers abounded they did harbor some magical power as well.

Aleirya remembered wanting to have one of them as a pet while growing up. But a draspith was no pet.

They hated being touched, able to scorch flesh with the same blistering heat of a regular dragon’s fire, and they preferred living in the cool environment of caves or rocky outcroppings, hidden away from other larger creatures.

Keeping her eyes on the draspith, Aleirya carefully sheathed her dagger and let her right hand subtly drop to her side before she fumbled for the vial in her pocket that contained the sleeping powder.

The draspith seemed to stretch its neck toward her, and its nostrils widened as if it had detected the scent of something in the air when her fingers folded around the lid.

Steady now, she thought to herself, as if she were trying to soothe the creature.

Then, holding her breath, she flicked the lid from the vial and swung her hand toward the draspith.

The powder rose into the air and toward the creature. But the draspith seemed to have sensed her plan.

Through the bluish cloud that veiled her view, Aleirya spied the dragonspark’s squirming body and heard scratching claws and rocks tumbling down from above.

Stepping through the cloud, Aleirya lunged and tried to grasp its tail, but her hand came up empty.

The fog cleared, and she saw the draspith had vanished from its perch. All that remained was a small hole in the rock it had burrowed through.

With a grunt, Aleirya tried to pull herself up along the wall and peer inside the small opening, but it was too high up.

She could hear its faint scampering beyond the thick stone barrier between them and let out a sigh.

Not wanting to give up yet, she inspected the wall in front of her. A large piece of rock towered before her, imitating the appearance of a door. She let her hands run along its grooves, wondering if she might remove some stones and create a space large enough for her to crawl through and follow the draspith.

Stepping back, she glanced at the spot where the draspith had vanished, suddenly feeling a hand over her mouth as someone grabbed her from behind.

Aleirya jabbed her elbow into the attacker’s side and immediately reached for her dagger, but the stranger was faster.

His grip fastened tightly around her wrist under the wince that left his lips, followed by a low muffled sound, like a growl.

Aleirya was about to jam her heel into his foot but found herself suddenly unable to move.

Her limbs stiffened and froze in position while her breath quickened under his grasp, and she felt her shoulder blades dig into his chest. She could only assume by his large frame that it was a he, unable to see the stranger’s face.

Only her mind seemed untouched by the odd paralyzing sensation that flooded her body.

She wanted to bite his hand and force him to loosen his grip on her, but she couldn’t.

Then, out of the blue, she heard his voice.

He had not spoken and yet she had unmistakably picked up the sound of the deep dulcet tones that echoed through her mind.

What are you doing here? he asked.

The skin on her neck and arms turned to gooseflesh, and she felt the disquieting sensation travel down her back and into her legs.

How did he make it past Takhéa? she wondered. Is she alright?

Your dragon is unharmed. His low voice trickled through her thoughts.

Aleirya was certain that if she had been able to move, her whole body would have jerked at his surprising answer.

How is he doing this?

Aleirya heard him let out an annoyed sigh, and then her eyelids fluttered, and she felt a strange haze settle over her.

What are you doing here? he asked again, this time with a little more bite.

Aleirya struggled to fight the odd influence that seemed to render her mind powerless over his questioning and found her thoughts forming under his bidding.

I hunted the draspith, but it escaped, she replied.

You shouldn’t be here, so close to our borders, dragon girl, said the stranger.

Aleirya could sense him loosening the spell he had placed over her, and she seized the chance.

What’s your name, and what do you want, shapeshifter? she blurted, letting the questions flood toward him.

But there was no reply. Instead, suddenly, she was shoved forward, stumbling as her legs gradually recovered their strength, and she caught herself just in time.

A bright light pierced through the darkness of the cleft when she whirled around toward the stranger and released her dagger from its sheath.

Squinting, she lunged at him.

Her fingers snagged his right wrist just before she clutched his cloak at the shoulder and shoved him backward against the wall of the cleft’s passageway. Behind her, the odd beam of light flickered and widened, but she ignored it and tucked the blade of her dagger beneath his chin.

All she could see underneath his dark hood was the pale skin of his sharply angled chin and his lips that contorted into a snarl.

Instead of freezing under her grip, the stranger muttered something under his breath, releasing a rippling force from the center of his left palm that slammed into her chest, knocking the breath out of her. Then he snatched her dagger by the blade held to his neck, and with a curse and a hiss, he tore the weapon from out of her grasp, flinging it into the darkness behind her.

The walls of the cleft, as well as the ground beneath her, seemed to shift, blurring her vision, and before she knew it, Aleirya felt her back meet the cold hard rock behind her with a smack just as she glimpsed her attacker leap into the beam of light beside her.

Every trace of him vanished. The light extinguished, and her eyes fluttered shut right before she sank to her knees.

​

 

When she came to, Aleirya lay prostrate, face downward against the ground of the cleft’s passageway, her dagger an arm’s reach to her right, the blade smeared with blood.

Blinking, Aleirya shoved herself to her feet and winced as a sharp pain rose to her head.

What in the dragon’s name just happened?

Her mind drew a blank as she tried to gather her thoughts, and she could not recall a struggle or any incident that explained her ensanguined weapon.

The draspith… It must have escaped. Did I wound it?

A pulsating ache climbed up the nape of her neck and spread up the back of her skull, making her wince and draw in a sharp breath.

A heavy fog lay over her mind as she rubbed her eyes and then trudged forward before stooping down to retrieve her dagger.

Her fingers wrapped around its hilt just when she noticed a strange, small object lying beside it.

Her brow furrowed as she wiped the dagger’s blade clean on her trousers, sheathed it, and then scooped the item into her hand.

Straightening, Aleirya focused her attention on the piece that lay in the open face of her palm.

It was a small wooden charm, like that belonging to a bracelet. The carving showed a stag’s head with one of its ears and antlers missing.

Aleirya continued to stare at it, uncertain where it had come from.

The piece was beautifully made, and she rubbed it between her fingers for a moment, taking in its smooth wooden surface.

Then, without further thought, she tucked it away inside her pocket and with a sigh and one last look at the cleft’s dead end, the draspith nowhere to be seen, she turned and made her way outside the cliff.

Emerging outside the cleft, her gaze immediately locked onto her dragon’s, the huge scaly creature sitting before the narrow opening with her tail beating against the ground like an impatient cat.

“What took you so long?” the dragon asked, stopping when she noticed Aleirya was empty-handed. “It escaped? How?”

Aleirya ignored her dragon’s questions and stepped closer to rub her snout.

“Bad luck. It found a small hole to escape through before I could capture it.”

The dragon muttered something incomprehensible as Aleirya approached her side.

Something made her stop, and furrowing her brow, Aleirya turned and cast a glance over the rolling tide and the thick line of trees that marked the edge of the Dhaharran Forest.

Unsure about what she sought, yet unable to ignore the feeling of unease, she hesitated.

“What happened in there?” Her dragon spoke, drawing her attention back to the present. Her remarkable eyes were fixed on her as she awaited Aleirya’s answer.

Aleirya lowered her gaze to her hands that rested against her dragon’s scales and replied, “Nothing… It just escaped.”

Takhéa snorted and spoke. “So much for ‘I know what I’m doing’… Seems like you could have used some help in there.”

Aleirya couldn’t help but grin, knowing her dragon only meant to tease.

“Ah, yes, help would have been nice. If only your head weren’t so large, you could have joined me.”

The dragon growled and lowered herself so that Aleirya could climb up onto her back.

“Whatever… We should get back. The deception spell on your tracking stone shouldn’t last much longer,” the dragon muttered.

At her words, Aleirya’s hand immediately traveled to the pendant that hung from her neck. She was to wear it at all times as a cadet of the Esdras Academy, the training institute for Tarragon’s dragon warriors.

With Takhéa’s help, Aleirya had placed a spell over the pendant that concealed their true location, enabling them to stray from the designated patrolling route and pursue the draspith.

Her dragon was right. If they didn’t turn back now, their ruse would be discovered.

Aleirya nodded wordlessly and climbed up her dragon’s side. Hoisting herself onto Takhéa’s back, she replied, “Let’s go.”