By Eric Kao and Nicolin Odel
“THIS is the measure of a true man.”
Tavin quietly slid along the branch overhanging the meeting. The leaves rustled and Tavin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will them silent, lest anyone look up. A light whimper that only Tavin noticed wafted up from the ground, back a few trees. Tavin winced and looked back with a smirk. Hippo perked up from his hiding place behind a large oak. His dark fur blended in perfectly with the bark. Unlike the other dragon-dogs, he lacked scales—appearing almost entirely like a normal dog. It made him well-adapted to hiding in the forest, skulking under tables for treats, and getting belly rubs. It made him poorly adapted for racing across the flame-kissed sands of the fire-sea. Hippo tilted his head, tongue lolling out, and his wings rose up hopefully.
Tavin suppressed a hiss and waved Hippo back down. He couldn’t have him drawing attention to them, not when they were so close. Any day now, it would be time for the Ideatrod. He already didn’t have the knowledge the other men had gotten. Every bit of preparation was potentially life-saving. He’d explained, many times, to Hippo that if they didn’t want to get burned to ash or torn apart or eaten alive, they had to scavenge every morsel of information they could.
Most of the time, Hippo perked up at the word ‘morsel’ and rolled belly-up.
Tavin raised a finger to his lips and Hippo slunk down. His wings folded back into place, and he chewed forlornly on some grass. Tavin flapped a hand at him, but Hippo resentfully ignored him. It’d make his tummy upset later, but Tavin couldn’t deal with that right now.
A glint of light caught his eye and Tavin whipped his attention back down to the clearing. Augurn unbuttoned his tunic and revealed the scale armor on his chest. He pounded his fist on it. “Hear that, boys?” He scowled down at the young men gathered around him. “Yes, boys.” Several of the men squirmed, a few crossing their arms. Augurn snorted and knocked on his armor again. “No, you don’t get to be called men until you prove it.” He raised his fist overhead. His retractable claw shot up from his forearm like a silvery sword. “You think this is what makes a man?” He waved the claw which extended three feet from his fist.
Koze, seated directly in front of him, flinched back. His red hair—flame-kissed by the high spirits—danced with the motion. Tavin’s pulse sped up at Koze’s movement. Even reacting with surprise, Koze was ever-graceful, like the dance of fire itself. His hair was like a crown placed on his head at birth—destined for great things, no doubt.
And as much as Tavin would have loved to resent Koze’s spirit-blessed life, he couldn’t find it in himself. Koze had always been friendly, despite…
Tavin swallowed hard and shook his head. He had to focus. No time to get distracted by Koze’s fiery mane, his strong jaw, or the smile playing on his lips at his own overreaction.
Augurn scoffed and shook his head. “No, this is what all boys have. But this”—he knocked his claw into the scale and Tavin jerked, almost falling out of the tree—“is what makes a man.”
Tavin inched forward, transfixed as much as the men beneath him. Augurn’s scale was immense, polished to a sheen. But most distinctive, it had a ridge directly down the center. Tavin craned down, his own claw snaking from along his forearm and tethering to the branch for security. What it must have taken to get that scale… Tavin swallowed hard, eyeing the ridge. The other men in the village bore scales proudly on their chests, but none had the ridge. They’d already proven themselves and wouldn’t join on the Ideotrod. But Augurn, village leader and most respected, would guide the unproven men on their journey.
Augurn, as if feeling Tavin’s eyes dancing on the scale, ran a thumb along the crest. His claw retracted and he clasped his hands behind his back, thrusting his chest out. All eyes fixed on the ridge and Augurn nodded. “If you’re lucky, you’ll survive. If you’re strong, you’ll get your scale.” He chuckled, an almost pitying glance at the men. “A foot scale, a leg scale.” He spread his hands out. “Those are worthy of your admiration. Maybe one of you”—he nodded to Koze—“might even get a body scale.”
Tavin licked his lips, subtly shaking his head. Even a body scale wasn’t enough. The branch creaked beneath him. A few leaves dropped down as he adjusted. They fluttered down to the pile of massive bone fragments positioned under Tavin. The men had been working all summer to fashion their sleds from scavenged dragon bones—tough enough to withstand the load as a chariot while also being resistant to fire. Most of their bone-white hulls were nearly complete with this meeting space functioning as their workshop. Each sled had enough room for two men standing upright, with the bottom painstakingly flattened and sanded smooth through hours of work. The refuse and useless bones were discarded in the pile at the tree’s base. Tavin avoided eye contact with an empty eye socket from a dragon’s skull.
Augurn unfastened his scale and handed it to Koze. Tavin’s heart throbbed with envy. Koze’s eyes widened, drinking in every inch of the scale. Augurn nodded him down the line and Koze reluctantly passed the scale to the next man. As each got a turn to hold it, Augurn returned to the center. “A dragon doesn’t part easily with any of its scales.”
Mention of the dragon pulled at Tavin’s attention, though he continued to follow the scale as it passed from man to man. Did it feel warm still? The dragon’s fire humming within it like the singing of cooling metal?
Augurn sprang into a fighting stance and his claws whipped out. He slashed into the air twice and leaped to the side. “You must be agile, brave, and strong to wrest a dragon’s greatest treasure from its very flesh.” He mimed jumping up and walking along the writhing form of a dragon. “To get a body scale, you need balance. But to get that?” Everyone turned to him, leaning forward in anticipation.
Tavin’s hands sweat with the phantom heat and exhilaration of facing the dragon. Would Augurn finally reveal it? How he got the most prized scale in the entire village?
Augurn’s voice fell to a hush. “A dragon’s body isn’t a mountain—motionless, awaiting your domination. It is a volcano. Shifting with the heat within, hungry for your flesh.” He looked each man in the eyes, one at a time. “When you reach the crest of its back, the dragon knows you are there. It can feel you—the threat you pose. And it turns its great neck to look at you.”
The branch trembled beneath Tavin, though he couldn’t tell if it was because he’d climbed out too far or from the barrage of his beating heart. He’d have to leave soon to make sure they didn’t catch him.
Augurn pointed behind the group’s heads, and Tavin hissed and hugged close to the branch, praying the leaves covered him enough. Everyone glanced back and saw nothing but the forest. Augurn continued pointing at something seen only by him. “And in the dragon’s eyes, you realize you are weak.” He let his arm drop. “Yes, you are weak—a mere rodent to this beast. It pulls back its lips and you see yourself in its teeth. They’re not yellowed like a wolf’s, decaying like a wild animal’s. No—they gleam. Polished by fire. And you realize that that image, your own terrified face, your trembling body, reflecting back to you is the last thing you’ll ever see.” He sighed and nodded. “You are weak.”
Silence lapsed, Tavin’s body burning from clenching the branch so tightly. His lungs burned, but not with the urge to breathe, but from holding in his question—a writhing bird struggling to break loose from his chest. How did Augurn do it, then? The question was an ember consuming Tavin from within, and he desperately held it within. The branch he laid on groaned. Just a little longer—then he’d leave.
Augurn’s eyes refocused from the old memory and his shoulders rose. “You all wonder how I did it? How did it feel to slice a neck scale from the dragon? To know how I felt when I bested Nature’s fiercest creation?” He shook his head and took his scale back from the group. “Small.” He fastened the scale in place over his chest and buttoned his tunic over it. “I felt small.” Only the outline of the ridge, partially masked by the buttons, betrayed its presence.
Tavin’s nails bit into his palm. That wasn’t an answer. How did he do it? Really?
Augurn looked back up at the phantom dragon. “When it reared its head back, fangs bared, belly rumbling with fire, I knew it was the end. So I did the only thing I could. I—”
The branch cracked and Tavin pitched down, clinging for life. Everyone jumped to their feet, claws shooting from Koze’s arms, while the rest of the men instinctively cringed away at the noise. The branch whipped Tavin down but didn’t break through entirely.
“SHIT!”
Tavin slid, ripping off small twigs as he skidded toward the tapered end of the branch. Leaves fluttered down as he stripped the branch. The branch hitched, breaking Tavin’s grip. His claw lashed up, barely tethering to the branch. He dangled ten feet above the ground as everyone gaped at him.
“Oh, hi, guys…” Tavin attempted a casual wave and bobbed his head, sending more leaves raining down. “Oh. W-were you all having a meeting here?” He met Koze’s twinkling eyes and flushed at the lame cover. Hippo skittered from his hiding place, barking up at Tavin.
Augurn’s face reddened and he slashed his claw through the air. “You!” He swept an arm toward Tavin and Hippo. “Capture them!”
Tavin’s feet dangled above the bone fragments. If he dropped down, he’d land directly on them. Claws sprang from the rest of the men as they fanned out and oriented toward Tavin. He swore. No helping it, then. If it broke the branch, it broke the branch.
He kicked both feet, swinging a fraction. The branch creaked, the splintered fragments rubbing against each other at the fractured union. His feet cleared the edge of the pile directly beneath him. Just a little more and soft ground would cushion his landing instead of hard bone. He whipped his legs back and kicked them again, swinging further out. Yes!
The branch snapped the rest of the way and Tavin tumbled with a shout. His body rushed down toward the pile and he twisted as best as he could. He narrowly avoided the razor edge of the nearest one and crashed into the ground, rolling as leaves fluttered down. The other men shouted and raced over to him. Hippo barked, his wings partially unfurled as his tail wagged frantically.
Tavin popped up to his feet and flashed a grin at the encroaching mob. “See yer, assholes! No, no. I-I didn’t mean, I, uh, meant…” He cringed and spun away, snatching a long bone plate. “Go, Hippo! Hyah!” Tavin’s claw retracted from where it ran up his arm and whipped out from its connecting point on his abdomen. Hippo spun and Tavin tethered his umbilical tail to Hippo’s flanks. He sprinted after Hippo, pulled along by the tether, and threw the bone plate on the ground. With a well-timed leap, he landed on the bone, the outraged cries of the village men almost buffeting them onward, and they took off.
Tavin cackled as his ride tipped down the hill and gained momentum on its own. Shouts rang out as men chased after. Tavin and Hippo sped away, the jostle of roots and rocks threatening to buck Tavin at any moment. The perturbations almost broke Tavin’s tether to Hippo, straining his strength. The exhilaration of racing down the slope overrode the sharp pain from each jolt.
The village appeared at the bottom of the hill. Women tended to the exterior of the houses—patching and repairing damage from the most recent firestorm. Tavin whooped, even as his tether weakened further.
This. This feeling was almost the best in the world.
Tavin registered a boulder in their path and his eyes widened. “Hippo!” He twisted, trying to steer the bone out of its path. Hippo jumped over the boulder, wings stretching out to catch some air. His body was too heavy to actually fly, but the wings did let him glide a bit. The bottom of the bone smashed into the rock and Tavin’s tether to Hippo was wrenched free.
He ducked, whipping underneath Hippo, and rode the bone as it careened completely at the whim of the land. “ShitshitSHIT!”
The screams of the village women in front of Tavin joined the shouts of the village men behind him. He rocketed directly for the house the women were working on. They sprinted to the side as Tavin barreled down, unable to slow down. The wall of the house rapidly neared and Tavin dove off. He landed heavily and log-rolled uncontrollably from the momentum.
The thick slab of bone smashed through the wall and spun through the interior, sweeping through the legs of a table. It skidded toward the far wall and slammed into it, finally coming to rest.
Tavin groaned, pushing up to his hands and knees. A few women peered into the wreckage of the house through the hole in the wall. Tavin shakily stood, surveying the damage. The familiar outline of three-legged stools—a favorite of Augurn—appeared as his vision cleared and Tavin’s head slumped down. Of course. Augurn’s house, why not?
He stumbled away and his mother ran up to him. She wrung her umbilical tail between her hands. “T-Tavin, are you okay?”
The village men flooded down from the forest hill and Tavin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… look, Ma, don’t listen to what they—”
Her shoulders heaved with relief, then re-bunched with anger. “What did you do?”
“Th-they might’ve thought I wanted to see their, well, never mind. This might all just be one big misunderstanding.”
She glared at him, her tail swishing. “This isn’t funny. You could have hurt yourself.” She waved at the other women gathered around the splintered wall. “Or someone else.”
Tavin’s chest tightened and he clenched his fists. “I know. Look, I’m sorry—”
Augurn stormed up to them, his face full of fury. He looked past Tavin to the ruined wall, and his face darkened further. “YOU.”
Tavin held out his hands. “I’ll fix it. I swear.”
Augurn’s claws shot out and retracted several times, his shoulders heaving as he tried to contain his anger.
Tavin looked at his mother. “I was just trying to go to the meeting.”
Augurn growled and stood over Tavin. “That meeting is for men.”
Tavin’s eyes flashed and he opened his mouth.
Augurn raised a fist, refraining himself just before striking. “Real men. Not confused girls with silly thoughts in her head.” His nostrils flared and he lowered his arm. “If you were a man, I’d beat that through your thick skull.”
Anger raged over the raw chasm of hurt within Tavin. He raised his fists.
Tavin’s mother grabbed Augurn’s arm. “Elder, please. We’ll repair the house. She didn’t mean anything—”
Tavin hissed as his mother’s words sliced through his chest. “I will—”
His mother whirled on him. “Enough! You will take your place with the rest of us and repair the—”
The ground shook from a distant eruption. As the villagers cringed down, Tavin seized his mother’s arm, pulling her behind him. From beyond the forest-covered hill, the peak of the spray of fire was visible. Droplets of fire sizzled through the air from the geyser. As the hissing tapered off, Tavin’s heart pounded all the former anxiety away. It was time.
Finally, it was time.
Excited murmuring broke out from the ground. Tavin jerked his chin up, meeting Augurn’s eyes. He tapped Augurn’s chest with his claw, meeting the hard resistance of the scale beneath his shirt. “I’ll get my scale. Better than yours.”
Augurn seized Tavin by the throat. “You will NOT join us on the Ideatrod.” Several men behind Augurn opened their mouths as if to protest—though none spoke up.
Tavin pried at Augurn’s fingers, the sudden violence in his eyes almost as painful as his fingers crushing Tavin’s windpipe. Augurn released Tavin and shoved him away. Tavin stumbled back, gasping for air. He raised his fist, claw extended from his forearm, and Augurn caught his wrist.
“This. This is exactly why you can’t come.” Augurn forced Tavin’s arm upward. Tavin’s claw extended only half a foot past his knuckles. Augurn’s own claw emerged from his forearm. It extended almost two feet outward. “You can play pretend, but your body shows us the truth.” Augurn grabbed Tavin’s claw and wrenched it.
Tavin grunted as the pull went all the way to his stomach. Yeah, so what if he’d been born with an umbilical tail? Maybe his claw did start at his stomach and he had to wrap it up his arm so it’d be in the right position. Did that make him any less of a man?
Augurn snorted and let Tavin’s claw go. He turned his arm over and exposed where his claw exited from the back of his forearm. “The Ideatrod has more danger than you could possibly imagine. A woman’s tail is a blessing from the high spirits, no doubt. The ability to bind—it is what holds our society together. You should be proud of that.”
Tavin snaked his tail back into position around his arm. Augurn could spout his false ideals, but they rang hollow. He clung to power, always displaying it, just like his scale. Had anyone really heard the whole story? How did he get the neck scale? Tavin’s chest tightened. Sometimes he wondered… was it not a coincidence that the last Ideatrod, when Augurn got the neck scale, the other village guide didn’t come back? Tavin steadied his breathing as it threatened to hitch. Ten years. Ten years since his father had left to help on the last Ideatrod—and never returned.
Ma said his dad had been slated to become the village leader. And now Augurn didn’t want to let him go on his own Ideatrod. What was Augurn so afraid of? That his tenuous grip on power would slip so easily? Tavin glowered up at Augurn. Yes, if even he could challenge Augurn, then maybe anyone could. Who knew who else? Maybe even one of the village women. A sliver of grim satisfaction welled up in Tavin. His very existence was a threat to Augurn and his precious hierarchy.
Good.
Augurn grabbed one of the broken panels of his house and tossed it in the air. The claw from his other arm extended and he slashed both arms at the plank, cutting it into three. The pieces clattered to his feet. “You snake your tail up your arm and it looks like a claw, pathetic as it is. But even so, it can’t cut. You wouldn’t last a minute out there without a way to fight.” He retrieved the pieces and shoved them into Tavin’s arms. “You’ll stay. And do what you were born to do.” He looked at Tavin’s mother. “Hara—see that she does as you tell her.”
Hara’s cheeks burned and she bowed her head. Tavin drew himself up, but his mother grabbed his arm. “Yes, elder. Thank you.”
Tavin panted, anger threatening to explode from his chest. He’d show that asshole. His ma’s tail rubbed his back like she used to do when he was a kid. Tavin blinked angry tears away and blew out slowly. He’d shut Augurn up… but not right now. He couldn’t make it worse for Ma than he already had.
The ground rumbled and more hissing issued from beyond the hill. Everything in Tavin longed to race through the forest. Would they be there? Were they really as powerful, as destructive as everyone said?
He clenched his fists. It was really happening. The fire-sea was receding—for only one day every ten years. The men could journey across part of the sea floor and try to reach the dragon’s cove. They’d fight to get a scale and prove their valor. Tavin’s eyes strayed to Augurn’s chest. The neck scale peeked out from above the tunic.
Tavin swallowed and resolve reared up in his stomach. A head scale. He’d settle for nothing less.
Augurn waved the villagers to the hill. “Let’s go. We’ll prepare the rigging for the pulleys and lower the chariots.” He grinned at the men, their faces tight with fear and excitement. “Today, you become men.” As Tavin’s fellow unproven men ran to the hill, Augurn flagged two older men whose proving days were long behind them. “Stay. Make sure this one doesn’t get any ideas.”
The men glanced over at Tavin and his ma with uncertainty. The taller of the two extended a hand out to Augurn. “Come now, I don’t think that’s necessary.” He offered a small smile to Tavin. “Tavin has always been spirited, but who can blame him? His father was one of the finest warriors to ever walk among us.” He nudged the other man. “And a hell of a spitfire himself!” The other man chuckled with a nod.
Augurn’s face darkened and his claws extended out. “You threaten my authority.”
“No, not at all—”
“I am the village leader.” Augurn swept a hand to the younger men. “I am the one risking my life for the future of this village.” He tapped the scale hanging around his neck. “And I alone have bested the dragon. Do your part, meager as it is, to uphold this village.”
The man fell silent, ducking his head. “Y-yes. Of course.” His eyes flicked to Tavin apologetically.
Tavin clenched the pieces of wood Augurn had handed him, but his mother pulled him over to the broken wall. “Come, we have to fix this.”
Koze put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Guttural barking answered as the pack of dragon-dogs rushed out of the village. They ran on stumpy, scale-covered legs after the men, following them up the hill. Their lower halves looked more like a lizard than a dog—their dragon heritage that kept them safe from the heat of the fire-sea on their journey. Their upper halves were more canine, though none had gossamer wings like Hippo.
Tavin’s mother took the pieces of wood in his hands and held them together. She pressed the tip of her tail along the fracture. Under her careful attention, she willed them together, forging a reinforced seam. “There.” She smiled and held the unified piece of wood back to Tavin. “See? Everything can be fixed.” Her tail brushed Tavin’s cheek. “That is our gift.”
Tavin looked away, despair tight in his throat. What was wrong with him? His mother was one of the best seamstresses in the village. No. The best. Tavin met her eyes and she took his hands. She had a heart full of love. But even her mending magic couldn’t fix him.
She didn’t understand.
Tavin wiped the dust from his face and nodded to her. They picked through the wreckage, gradually repairing Augurn’s house. Whoops tumbled from beyond the hill, the exhilarated shouts of the other men seeing the fire-sea recede. Tavin’s hands trembled and he forced his attention away. He handed another piece of wood to Ma and she bonded it in place.
What were they seeing? He’d been ten last time the sea receded, a decade ago. The memory was blurry, a hazy sea of fire ebbing away. But the feeling was sharp as day: his heart pounding at the thought of all that land. New places to explore. That maybe it was out there.
A place where he belonged.
Tavin jerked his attention back to the wood. His mother glanced at his face and bit her lip. She forced a smile. “Come here.” Tavin dutifully filed over and she held the final fragment in place on the wall. “Go on.”
“Ma, no.”
“Do it, dear. You’re so good at it when you try.” The skin around her eyes tightened and Tavin’s chest constricted at the anxiety he knew he inflicted on her.
With a sigh, he held his fist out. His claw extended past his knuckles and touched the split.
“Now, visualize it mending.”
“Ma, I know.” Tavin let muscle memory take over. As he visualized the wood joining anew, thin bonds—like string—wove the jagged edges together. The bond thickened as more was laid down, strengthening the seam. He stepped away and crossed his arms, his claw retracting to rest on his forearm.
Ma knocked on the seam and frowned. “It’s not very fortified. Honey, this won’t hold under pressure.” She tsked and shook her head. “Remember, it’s not just visualizing, it’s feeling.” She twirled her tail with a finger, a small smile on her lips. “When I think about mending, I think—”
Tavin groaned. “I know. The village. The bonds between us. You’ve told me a million times.”
She brushed the seam with her fingers while her tail pressed at the top. “Sometimes.” She began laying down reinforced bonds. “But mostly, I think about you.”
Tavin blinked and hugged his arms around himself. She’d never told him that before. His ma worked over his handiwork, strengthening it beyond what anyone else in the village could do. He touched the seam—now strong as iron—and his claw peeked past his hand. It wrapped around his ma’s hand and she twined her tail around him in response.
She pulled him into a hug. “You’re strong, my fire.” She stepped back, blinking away tears. “And you deserve to find that out for yourself.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek with his claw. “I-I don’t know how…”
She took a deep breath, her chest shuddering. “Be strong, Tavin.” She clasped her hands on his face. “Be strong.” She walked past him to the older men standing guard. “The wall is done and we’ll repair what’s inside. We need help lifting the table back up.”
The elder men grunted and trudged over. The taller one squeezed Tavin on the arm as he passed. “It’s probably for the best, you know. The Ideatrod is dangerous. You’re safer here. Wouldn’t want to leave your mother all alone, would you?”
Tavin swallowed tightly. The man was just trying to help, but he didn’t understand. None of them did.
The man sighed and patted Tavin before stepping inside Augurn’s house after the other man.
Tavin stepped toward the door and Ma caught his wrist. He glanced at her and his eyes widened. Fear pinched her face, her shoulders heaving with shallow breaths. “Ma, what’s—”
She slammed the door shut and her tail slapped against the center of the frame. Thick tendrils forged the door shut. The handle rattled as the men tried it. They pounded against it with a shout, but Ma held it shut with her trembling body as her tail worked upward. She flung an arm out to Tavin. “Go!”
“Ma!”
She shuddered at the impact of the men smashing into the other side of the door.
Their shouts were muffled from within the house. “Don’t, Tavin—it’s too dangerous. You’ll get hurt!”
His ma’s whole body shook as she willed the door shut. “GO!”
Tavin fell back a step. Hippo barked and caught his sleeve, tugging him toward the forest. Tears reflexively leaked out of his eyes as his ma sobbed against the barrage of the door. Even with the powerful blows, she continued sealing the door, though every hit tore her magic loose.
Tavin’s heart pounded with fury, with fear. How could he leave her? What kind of a man would he be?
His ma’s head jerked up, her eyes bright with fervor.
What kind of a man would he be?
The kind that bound? The kind that broke?
By his ma’s love, he had the chance to find out.
Hippo jerked his sleeve again and Tavin spun with a shout. He sprinted for the hill to the tempo of pounding fists and shoulders against the door. The trees filled in around him, his breathing deepening with the exertion of the steepening incline. Behind him, wood cracked and his ma cried out. Tavin slowed and glanced back.
The door itself had broken, splintered around the hinges. His ma’s seam remained partially intact. The two men shoved out of the house, past his fallen ma. The taller man glanced back at her in concern.
She climbed to her feet and flung an arm out to him from across the plain. “BE STRONG.”
Tavin spun and fled through the trees. He would be.
And he’d never break.
Tavin and Hippo ran through the forest and exited from the tree line at the crest of the hill. He stopped short as the land fell away to a sheer cliff. His body wheezed, but he barely felt the burn in his arms, legs, and chest. Before him stretched the sea floor. Mind-numbing awe filled him. The fire-sea had receded, exposing a vast stretch of land. Craters dotted the terrain as well as limp flora, stripped of its liquid fire for a day. Flames spurted from a crater in a geyser, fountaining fire droplets. The blast of heat was palpable even on the hill. Tavin half-laughed, half-sobbed as the heat washed over him. It was time. His time.
He rushed to the edge and peered over. Most of the men were already on the sea floor with their dragon-dog teams harnessed to their bone sleds. A few of them gave friendly waves at seeing him peek down. Koze turned around and his eyebrows shot up. His face relaxed into a smile and warmth bubbled in Tavin’s stomach. Koze actually looked relieved to see him.
A hundred paces away, the pulley system was rigged to the top of the cliff. Augurn and his sled—the last trip—were being lowered, now at the halfway point.
Augurn’s eyes widened and his face contorted into a snarl. Tavin grinned and waved back at him. The pulleys were still operational—he’d made it. And once down, he could hop on a sled. Each one could hold two people, though most men rode by themselves. Tavin’s eyes drifted to Koze—manning his sled by himself—and he smothered a grin. There were worse things in the world than feeling the jolting of their bodies against each other with every delicious bump and ridge of the sea floor.
As Tavin rushed over to the pulley, Augurn punched a fist out, his claw stabbing in Tavin’s direction. “Do NOT let her on.”
Tavin hissed as the two men operating the pulley faced him. Even now, that asshole wanted to stop him. Well, it wouldn’t work. Tavin prowled closer, eyeing the men. He’d make it even if he had to climb down.
The men glanced between Tavin and Augurn. The foreman frowned at Augurn. “Well, she, uh, he’s here now. No point in not letting, um, h-him go.” His eyes, hooded with uncertainty, darted to Tavin, while the other man murmured in agreement.
Tavin rolled a hand for the foreman to continue. The foreman, like almost all the villagers, wasn’t fluent in Tavin’s pronouns, but it wasn’t too bothersome. At least they were trying. And unlike Augurn, they weren’t antagonistic. No, they didn’t really understand, but they were generally supportive. They didn’t get it—but they finally would when they saw and heard of his performance on the Ideatrod.
The foreman nodded to Tavin and turned back to Augurn. “We’ve always said the Ideatrod is about a man proving his place. Well, I say, let Tavin have his chance.”
Exhilaration flitted through Tavin and he beamed at the two men. That’s all he’d ever asked—a chance to prove himself.
Augurn cursed as they continued to lower him down. “Fools! She’s a danger—to herself and everyone here.” Augurn stabbed a claw behind him at the receding fire sea. “If she comes, she’ll throw off our formation. Everything we’ve trained for.”
The foreman crossed his arms. “If he rides with one of these other young’uns, there’ll be no difference.”
Augurn’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “And when we run into danger? The others will try to protect her. It will compromise our tactics.”
Tavin snorted. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I’ll probably have to save some of their asses.” At the bottom, Koze grinned and quickly covered his mouth with a hand, his eyes twinkling.
Footsteps crashed from the forest as the two men from the village finally caught up. Tavin swore and glanced at the pulley. He didn’t have time to wait for Augurn to get lowered and the pulley brought back up. But when Augurn was at the bottom, the platform—and the ropes—would also be down there. He’d have to risk climbing them.
Augurn followed Tavin’s eyes to the ropes, then glanced down. He was still twenty feet from the sea floor—plenty of time for Tavin to rush past the men and get to the ropes. Then, it’d all be over. No sending him back at that point.
Augurn craned his head up. “Cut the ropes.”
Tavin drew back with a sharp inhale. The foreman gaped at Augurn. “You’ll f-fall—”
Augurn’s face contorted with fury. “CUT THEM.”
Tavin shouted and raced to the pulleys with Hippo loping beside him. The foreman thrust his palm out. “Wait! We’ll lower you down after. Just WAIT.”
Tavin shook his head as he ran. They meant well, but it would never happen. Augurn would find a way to stop them, the bastard. It was now or never.
Augurn cursed and shoved his sled to the edge. Cries rang out from the young men gathered below and they scurried away. With a grunt, Augurn heaved the sled off and it careened the rest of the distance. It smashed into the ground, bone fragments chipping off—but stayed intact.
Tavin charged and the foreman grabbed for him. He twisted out of reach and his claw wrapped around the foreman’s wrist. He jerked the man off balance. The two men from the village sprinted behind Tavin, rapidly nearing. Hippo growled, wings unfurling. The other man at the pulley extended his claw and held it out toward the rope.
Augurn slashed his hand at him. “Do it! Cut it!”
The man glanced at Tavin, then shook his head at Augurn. He lowered his claw away from the ropes.
Augurn spat, his claws extending to their full length. “Coward!” One claw retracted as he thrust his hand into his pocket. A moment later, flint and a knife emerged. He slashed the knife along the flint and a spark leapt to the rope.
Tavin drew back, eyes widening. Was he insane? Augurn shot a glare up at Tavin before igniting the other rope. The fire caught, eating through the rope and the platform groaned. Augurn’s claws emerged once again and he shouted. As one of the ropes snapped, he jumped to the cliff wall. His claws dug in, gaining purchase as he slid down. The fire licked up the ropes, consuming them from the bottom, and Augurn skidded the remaining twenty feet down. He landed heavily with a shout but rolled to his feet. His lips pulled back in a feral grin as the ropes burned away.
A geyser erupted in the distance, fire spurting into the sky. The blast of hot air caused the burning ropes to writhe like snakes as they—and the last of Tavin’s hope—withered away. The other two elder men raced over as the foreman rose to his feet. All four men rounded on Tavin.
The foreman held up his palms. “Easy, Tavin. Look, it’s over, I’m sorry.” He sighed and shook his head. “I wanted to help you, but, well…”
Tavin fell back, step by step. No. It wasn’t over. “I’m going—whether he wants me to or not.”
The taller elder rubbed his neck. “Like I said before, you’re safer here. And none of us’ll think any less of you.” The other men nodded their agreement. “Now, just come with us. Let’s go see your mother, she’s upset something terrible. Don’t do anything rash. You might hurt yourself. Your mother can’t go through losing you, too.”
Hippo whimpered and Tavin reached back, placing a hand on his head. Maybe they wouldn’t think any less of him, but they’d never think much of him either, would they? How could they when he was never given the same opportunities as the other men?
And they were underestimating his ma, too. She was stronger than they thought. She’d already placed her faith in him. He wouldn’t waste it.
“I’m going. Don’t try to stop me.”
The men glanced at each other, holding a silent conference through looks alone. The foreman chewed his cheek and raised his hands with regret. “I’m sorry. We can’t let you go through with this. You’re not thinking—about yourself or your mother. This is for your own good, Tavin.”
Their claws shot out—one on each arm—rigid and razor-sharp, extending like two-foot-long swords.
Tavin’s claw extended—only on his left arm—serpentine and just half a foot past his knuckles.
So, what kind of man was he?
He spun and sprinted back into the forest.
Not like them.
They followed him as he wound through the trees, losing them in the dense woods.
He’d be different—blessed by the high spirits or not.
He doubled back to the meeting space and dropped to his knees at the discarded pile. The empty eye socket of the dragon skull met his gaze in challenge. Once, this skull had been covered by muscle, skin, blood, strands to bind the flesh together, and—atop it all—scales.
A head scale.
Nothing less.
The men tore through the forest, tramping through the foliage as they hunted for him. Tavin pilfered through the pile, scavenging the skull bones—thinner, light enough to carry. He hauled them away to a new hiding spot in the bushes. Would it be thick enough to shield him from the heat? Strong enough to withstand the journey?
Would he be?
He closed his eyes, claw touching the seam of the skull fissures that once joined the bone together.
For Ma.
Hippo huddled against him, nudging his shoulder, and Tavin smiled tightly.
For him. For us.
His sled—his chariot—would only be as strong as the bonds he forged.
“There she is!”
Tavin jolted up from his work. The partially reconstructed skull was more a bowl than a chariot. But it would have to be good enough. The men crashed through the trees as they convened on him.
“Let’s go, Hippo!”
He sprinted back through the forest, bursting from the trees. As he neared the cliff wall, the other men emerged and closed in on him. He looked out over the receding fire-sea. Maybe it was out there.
Maybe it wasn’t.
But he had a promise to his ma to keep. So he would find out.
His claw retracted up his arm, threading through his shirt. It peeked out from his tunic, stretching from his abdomen at its full length. He tethered it to Hippo’s flanks as they rushed to the cliff’s edge.
The foreman charged from the side and dove in a tackle. Tavin shouted and twisted out of the way. The man flew past, but the other man from the pulley closed the distance and grabbed Tavin’s wrist, only a few paces from the edge. Tavin wrenched free and he and Hippo backed up to the ledge. The four men formed a semi-circle around him.
“It’s over. Now, come on, Tavin.” The taller elder wheezed, but thrust out a steady arm toward Tavin. “Don’t do anything foolish. Just come with us.”
Tavin glanced back. The other unproven men had formed a ‘V’ formation as they prepared to begin their journey. Augurn’s sled was at the tip—a battering ram to plow through whatever, whoever, stood in his way.
It was time.
Tavin spun, clutching his chariot to his chest. “Now, Hippo. HYAH!”
Hippo let out a howl and together, they leapt from the cliff.
End of Part 1 of 4
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