Dragon Princess

What makes a Princess? Is it her birth-right? Is it the way she looks or the the way she acts?

She stood outside her cottage door looking at the sky. The mountains around her family’s farm lit up by the sunset. It had been a hard day of chores and she was tired.

Her father shuffled to the door. “Rane?” He called searching for her.

“Yes, Father.” She turned and reached for his hand. Guided by her outstretched hand he shuffled the rest of the way to stand next to her on their porch.

He had been blinded a few years earlier from a war skirmish. All denizens of the Kingdom of Jericho become a part of the military at the age of 17, some to fight, some to support, all to help the war against the Fae. Her mother was a General in the King’s Army and was out protecting the border. So, it was just her and her father and their livestock.

“Did you muck the stalls?” He asked.

“Yes, father”

He hadn’t been able to help out with the chores around the farm since his accident.

“Have you practiced?”

“I didn’t have time yet, Father.” She replied, sullenly. She didn’t want to practice her forms. The military had taken her Mother from her (albeit temporarily) and part of her Father from her. Practicing her forms reminded her of that.

He stepped from her and down the stairs. When he reached the front yard he turned around and held up his cane in the Dragon Form. “Come.” This was the one thing that he could still teach her - even blind.

A few weeks went by and the days were the same then as they had been for the several years that her mother had been gone. She would get up, take care of the livestock, weed their crops, do all the chores and her father would teach her her forms.

At the end of this time, her birthday was fast approaching. She would turn 17 and would be inducted into the King’s military. The one good thing about that is that her mother would be released from duty and would be out of harms way. The King’s rule, was that only one individual per family could be in his military. Younger, replacing older members. The older members could still be advisors, but his desire was to have everyone trained as soon as they are 17 — just in case the small skirmishes turned to a full war and then everyone that could fight would and by this plan everyone would know how to protect the kingdom.

As the days got closer to her birthday, her reason to stand on the porch became twofold. First was because of the sunset, but second was because she knew her mother would be arriving.

Two days before her birthday, she was standing on the porch and a metallic clanging started to reverberate throughout their small valley. She ran to the stalls and mounted her berquine, Salen, without pausing to saddle or bridle him. She dug her heals into his sides, holding on to its mane with all of her strength.

There in the waning light was another girzzled and scarred berquine sauntering up the road. The berquine had its military armor strapped to it and on its back was a soldier in full military garb.

…

The next few days were too short for Rane. She would’ve loved to have been with her family forever, but she knew it was her duty to her King and to her family. She put on Salen’s saddle and donned the leather armor that she had made in preparation for this day. She had packed her gear and supplies in her panniers.

“I wish I could stay here with you.” She said to her mother.

Her mother smiled. “Don’t say that. This is what we need as a family and what the Kingdom needs. You will do great.” She encouraged.

“I love you.” Her father said to her. “We will be here when you return.”

Rane wanted to stay and live this simple life. She wanted to get off of Salen and put all of her gear a way. She knew her heart wasn’t in the right place. It was an honor to serve in the King’s military and was necessary to keep the peace in their land, but…

She replied “I love you both. Until the sun comes.”

“The sun always comes.” They said the conventional reply. Her mother handed Rane an ornate spear — her war spear. “This will protect you.”

Rane took the spear from her mother. “Thank you.” With a slight tear in her eye, that she hid from her parents, she turned her reigns and directed her berquine down the same path her mother had just returned on.

…

It took her a day to get to the regional fort - Fort Samper. This is the first stop of her three day journey. There she registered with the Headmage of the fort. He opened a small round portal to the King’s castle, reached through and grabbed a piece of paper.

“Rane Vitralant, daughter of General Vitralant” Headmage Sullivan said, marking next to her name on the paper.

“Yes-”

“That wasn’t a question.” He cut her off, replacing the paper into the portal and dismissing the magic.

A quick spell and he had conjured a sword and armor for both her and her berquine.

“You know where to report for you first assignment?” Not waiting for a response. “You are excused. George, come help miss Vitralant with these. Also, explain to her how to get to Camp Resolute.”

They put her gear in the stall next to her companion. George left as soon as he could.

She tapped Salen on the shoulder indicating she was ready for sleep and the berquine lifted its front leg, letting Rane squeeze in. A rider and their berquine have a unique relationship. While on the road, instead of the animal being separated and put into a stall or hobbled like others, berquines act as rides, warmth, and security during the night. Rane slept with her mount in the barn.

The next day she prepped her berquine with its armor. It was tricky not having someone to tell her how she should place each piece, but she felt confident at the end that she figured it out.

She slipped her armor over her head and tied up the lacings on the right side. The metal plating laid flat over the lacings to give her protection. She put her new supplies and her leather armor into her panniers.

Salen followed her as she walked out into the courtyard of the fort. Standing there were three other inductees ready to start their journey. She walked her mount to group with them, checked her straps and swung into her saddle.

The saddle had a motion control mechanism that made it so that its rider’s back was always perpendicular to the ground. This allowed the berquine to climb step cliffs (and trees) or go down step mountainsides without the rider falling off (as easily). Or in battle the animal can rear up and the rider won’t fall off.

She didn’t know if the others were going to Camp Resolute. She didn’t really care. She knew she should be more friendly, but the whole situation of loosing her mother and father in just two days was still on her mind.

“I’m going to the borderlands.” Said the boy next to her. He smiled. “I haven’t been too far away from my farm. My name is Brider. This’ll be fun. Aren’t you excited?” He held out his hand for her to shake.

She looked at him not seeing his hand and with a slightly disgusted. “No.” She paused and said “Hike.” Salen started and went out the fort gate.

The rest of the inductees, two boys and one other girl, followed after her.

One of the boys left them on a fork in the road a day and a half after leaving Fort Samper. The other two continued to follow along with Rane.

“You gonna say anything else?” Asked Brider. He and the other girl had been chatting back and forth the whole trip since Fort Samper.

“My mount is hungry.” She steered her mount to the side of the road and got off. Slipped the panniers and armor off Salen and then slapped his butt.

“I guess now is as good as any to take a break.” Said the other girl.

Salen ran off into the nearby woods.

“He’ll be back in about 10 minutes. Do you want him to get food for your mounts too?”

“Ten minutes? That’s crazy.”

Hearing that response, Rane turned and made a short three burst whistle.

“It’ll take a bit longer, but she’ll have food for them all.” She sat down on her saddle and waited.

The other two glowered at her. But about 15 minutes later Salen came bursting into the clearing. Dangling from his mouth were three dead hares. He dumped the food in front of the other two animals and came back to Rane.

Rane strapped her mount’s armor back on and climbed back into her saddle before the other berquines had finished eating.

“Ready?”

They continued through the night and day and finally arrived at the borderland camp.

They got situated and started into their training sessions. The days were long at first. Guard duty, cleaning latrines, KP duty, you name it they did it. The only respite was sleep.

Their days turned into weeks and their weeks turned into months until they had been there for over a year.

“Well, grunts!” Said their drill sergeant. “Don’t just sit there. Go get your armor on and get your mounts ready. The King will be here today. He will be inspecting you slugs. So, go get pretty!”

There was a definite buzz in the camp that day. Having the King come to the camp was the most exciting thing to happen since she arrived.

…

A few hours later Salen was standing in a double row of fifteen others with his double barreled Magemakers — two magic enabled staffs that shoot MageFire upon the riders mental request one mounted on either side of his chest — shined and polished Black Drakerock armor that started by covering his claws with metal plate extending to head and tail. The long serpentine tail had a spiked mace ball on its tip, that moved slowly back and forth in the air behind him.

Rane stood next to Salen in full armor with her sword on her back, her battle shield — a smaller shield with a spiked end that extended down her arm, like a large, wide single claw — and her mother’s war spear. The spear’s distinctive features of red-gold Drakerock extended to the tip with scenes of heroic feats done with the spear magically shifting along the shaft.

The King rode on a massive berquine. The eyes of this creature were wizened and intelligent. Brider was next to Rane. “I hear they magically enhance the King’s berquine so that it is as smart as a man.”

Rane just glared at Brider. “Smart as a man? So dumb as a rock, then?”

He thought about what she said for a moment and stopped talking.

The King was inspecting the troops in detail. Looking over each and every soldier before he moved on. He stopped in front of Rane and Brider. Rane didn’t move, she barely breathed. The King’s armor glinted from the sun and tickled her eyes. The King leaned over to the Camp Headmage.

“Vitralant, Mount your berquine and follow us.” The Headmage commanded.

Rane immediately complied. She climbed into her saddle and as she fell into line behind the King’s guard she started to strap her spear into its harness.

“Keep your spear in your hand. It is always better to be ready for war than to be burdened by your lack of preparedness.” The deep voice of the King pierced the hushed silence of the troops. “Especially, that spear.”

Rane also complied with this directive. It was a bit difficult to hold on to her reigns with both hands, so she relaxed her grip on Salen and let him have his head. Luckily, he just followed the last King’s guard.

They traveled down the line of troops and to the King’s tent.

Rane stayed on her mount waiting for someone to give her a command.

“Please join the King’s Advisory Circle” The Headmage spoke to her.

They walked through the large set of draped doors, into the main portion of the tent. Chairs and stools were lined throughout the edge of the room.

“Do you know of that spear you hold?” The King spoke directly to her.

“Yes. I know it was my mother’s and her mother’s before her.”

“Did your Father wield it while he was in my army?”

She hesitated, then responded. “No. It had always been above our mantle during that time.”

“Exactly, that is the Spear of Despar.” He let that set in. “You are a direct heiress of the first Queen — the first Ruler — of our land. I for that matter am a direct heir of her also, yet my ancestor was the older sibling to your ancestor and that is why I bear the burden of the crown.”

He sat down and indicated for food and drink to the servants. “Please, everyone sit down.”

The conversation immediately turned from her spear to more pressing matters. There had been some dragon attacks near the camp and the Headmage and some scouts were to go out and inspect the mines. Salt was very difficult to come by and the two things that dragons loved to eat were livestock and salt.

The Headmage stood at this directive and requested leave. “Yes, you should go before it gets dark. Take young Vitralant with you.”

…

Before the Headmage, three of his Antri-Scouts and Rane left, they had her switch out her war armor for her leather and Salen was only allowed a saddle and a leather briddle.

“You’ll need to learn how to direct your berquine with your knees.” One of the Antris said.

They rode for an hour until they reached a large forest that had a large mountain rising out of it.

“We are riding to the base of that mountain. That peak is called Browbreaker.” The Headmage provided. The ride had been quiet with the occasional instructional statement from the three Antris to Rane. Teaching tricks and tips that only a seasoned Recon vet would know. She picked up the information quickly and even started to train her berquine in their art of bridleless riding.

“You are getting good at that. But he still guides you. He feels your weakness.”

Rane was a bit offended by that statement. She had raised Salen from a cub, but she didn’t let it show.

The terrain was slow. They stopped at the top of a hill with massive Seqora trees around them. These trees were perfect for a berquine to climb. So one of the Antri without stopping to think about it guided his mount up the tallest of the copse. Rane had seen Salen climb trees without her on him, but never like this. The animal was graceful, quiet and quick.

The Antri looked down and signed to the Headmage. All but Rane understood.

The Headmage nodded and flicked three fingers at her in a come down motion. The Antri tapped her mount with her knee and the creature leapt down and landed with no more than the sound of large gush of wind. The berquine’s massive legs taking most of the abuse.

They continued until they stood at the rim of a massive open pit mine. There weren’t any workers just strewn mine carts and charred scaffoldings. The little salt left was strewn in small rock sizes across the mine floor.

“The bodies were taken care of several days ago.” Said the Headmage reverently.

They made a camp without a fire for the night. It was cold without any heat, but the Antris were use to it and Rane was warm enough with her berquine blanket.

It was before dawn the next day when they heard a screech through the trees. They had built coverings out of pine boughs to camouflage themselves from above.

A massive black dragon with wings that were longer than a ship sailed above them. The berquines were skittish, but didn’t move or whimper.

Rane hadn’t seen a dragon before. Of all the Fae, the dragons were the most fearsome. They breathed fire, were very fast on the wing and could crumble cities with their strength. No Mage, Soldier, or Antri had ever fought a dragon and won.

The four of them followed the dragon with their eyes. The black specter made a slow descent into the mine.

Rane held her spear. The figures and battle scenes in red-gold began to shift into action. Battle scenes and heroism exuded from its shaft and blade. The spear began to glow and slowly it spread to Rane. She didn’t lose control of herself, but she did start to act upon knowledge from — she could only assume — the spear’s past, her past and, somehow, her future. She stepped into her saddle and the glow spread from her to envelope Salen. The two were not a duet but a concert unto themselves.

One of the Antris tried to reach for her, but the Headmage recognized the deep magik that was emanating from the trio and motioned for him to let them go.

They all mounted and followed behind her. The spear of Despar leading them through the massive trees until Rane and Salen stopped above the mine and the massive beast below.

She sat on her mount and studied the terrible vision. The creature was using its breath to melt the salt into pools of liquid rock so that it could lap it up.

Without any outward indication from her, Salen turned around and strolled back the way they had come, some several hundred feet. Without warning to the spectators, Salen started running as fast as he could. Running in a rage and fury, feeling all of the pain that the dragon’s and the Fae had wrought upon humankind and burst with an unseen energy of power towards the edge of the mine. The berquine was traveling so quickly that the Headmage and Antri saw just a whirl of light as Rane passed.

Straight and True, the spear whispered in Rane’s mind.

Upon reaching the edge of the sheer cliff, Salen sprouted golden eagle wings right in front of Rane’s knees. His magemakers started blasting at speeds unseen. The dragon was caught of guard and responded slowly.

Straight and True.

The creature launched into the sky. Flame and talon erupted from the dragon, but Rane and Salen were too quick. The dragon flew towards Browbreaker, as Rane’s magemakers scorched and burned the black wings.

The dragon hadn’t ever had to choose between flight or fight. He wasn’t scared of fighting, typically, and flying was for enjoyment, not to escape from a foe. This was a new experience for him. The creature attacking him was nothing he had ever seen in his thousand year life. But at this time he put all of his energy into getting a way.

Straight and True.

He spewed fire from his mouth. His fright turned to wrath and each of his scales started blasting fire, turning him from black to a golden red. He finally got high enough that he could maneuver and try to target the pest. The size of Salen was just that, a pest, but it had a nasty bite. The black dragon swung its flaming tail, barely able to come close to Rane. That threw her off her target, enough that the dragon in a couple pushes of its wings was able to get far enough from her that the magemakers weren’t effective.

She hovered where she was and watched as the dragon scrambled in massive beats of its wings towards Browbreaker. One more thought about the dragon popped into her head. She flew to the other rim of the mine and lighted to the ground. The dragon could still be seen in the distance. She got off of Salen and hefted her spear in her hand. Aimed and threw as hard as she could. The glow that came from the spear went with it as it flew over the forest. The dragon was still erupting in fire, but the spear was Straight and True. It struck through both wings as they were at the top of their arc, and the dragon fell to the ground with a sound and shockwave tantamount to an earthquake.

…

Rane could feel a pull in her chest to where the Spear landed. She mounted Salen, and with the others in tow she followed the feeling deep into the Overgrowth Forest.

-

The dragon landed on its shoulder. What wickedness was that? He thought as he drug himself to his feet. He knew the warrior that threw the spear would be back to claim it so limped away from the crash site. He flexed his wings and pushed with all of his might, the holes in their webbing, where the spear had gone through, just tore more with the effort. He sighed and stopped.

He was lost on the ground. The most time he ever spent on the ground was when he was a dragling and didn’t know how to fly. Since then he would spend time in his cave to sleep and all the rest of the time in the air. He never had to navigate his cave, it was only big enough for him to turn around. He really didn’t know what he should do, so he started walking toward the large mountain in front of him.

As he wandered he came to a large boulder. Standing on top of it was short, warted human. “You don’t look so good. Dragon Boy.”

The dragon huffed with little effort and blew a plume of smoke and fire at the creature. He was young for a dragon, only a thousand years old, but most humans don’t know how to tell that. The creature fell back behind the rock before the dragon’s fire hit his perch. He toddled out around the boulder and looked up at the dragon. “What are you doing that for? I was just making a bit of conversation.”

“What do you care, human? You should be rejoicing. One of your kind tore a dragon’s wing.”

“Human? Human? Do not disgust me. I am no more human as you are a snake.” The creature was furious and he started to pull out a wand which elongated into a staff. Blue and green sparks fizzled at the movement. He stamped his foot and the staff at the same time on the ground. “I am a troll!” Blue, black and green interweaving streams of light shot out of his staff at the same time and with in an instant and before the dragon could tell what was happening, the three streams hit him in the face. He shrunk to the size of a kitten.

The troll walked over and picked up the miniature dragon and stuffed it into his satchel. “Now we can’t have the king’s warriors following us, can we?” He tapped his staff to his boots and walked off, not leaving a single footprint.

-

Rane found the spear an hour or so later without much effort. The Overgrowth was large and had many pitfalls, but it was a gentle rising slope between the open pit mine and where the spear had landed. It was easy to find where the dragon had hit the ground. And its path was very easy to follow as it crushed trees every step it took. They followed its path until they reached a boulder. And strangely the path ended, but there was no dragon.

Instead of spending any more time on the hunt they decided to return back to the king and report. Maybe the king would send a larger force to find the dragon.

…

The King stood outside his tent, admiring Salen’s wings. “Warrior Rane, did you know that they speak of this type of berquine in our archives.” He stroked Salen’s snout with a gloved hand and feed him a treat. “Berquines are magnificent creatures, each one of then have a hidden ability, flight, heightened sense of smell, fire breathing, other traits that have probably been forgotten. But these have never reached their potential as there has to be a metamorphosis-a catalyst.”

“Like a caterpillar and a butterfly?”

“Yes, like that except there isn’t a cocoon involved. You triggered Salen’s calalyst. I have only ever seen that happen once before and that is with your mother’s mount, Sherase.” He paused and raised his extended arm-pointing with his hand to his tent. “Come in and let’s discuss what happened further.”

“Warrior Rane, I would like to invite you to come live at the castle and be a part of my royal guard.”

Rane stopped in the tent’s entrance, no one is asked to be a part of the elite guard that protects the king. There is a pecking order, a rank advancement protocol, years and years of training and even more years of tradition was being thrown out with this offer.

She hesitated only for a moment. She was the King’s Warrior and was obligated to abide his wishes. He asked many questions about the spear and the events of the day. How the dragon fell, if they tracked it, what it felt like to fly on Salen. She responded with the best of her ability.

The stars had come out and the crickets were singing in the background. This triggered a thought in the King’s mind. “You must go and pack your belongings. I fear we have talked too long. My assistant will gather you in the morning.”

-

The troll, Trajmac was his name, carried the black dragon up into the mountain named Browbreaker. “You are a feisty little thing aren’t you?” Trajmac said gruffly. “No need to be mad, I’m going to help heal your wounds.” Still the dragon tried to get loose by blowing fire at the troll’s behind with each step.

They arrived at a small cave on the second ravine from the left of the Browbreaker summit. There was a well worn path in the brush that the troll followed, but you needed to know how to get to the head of the trail to find it.

Trajmac put down his satchel and walked over to a set of rock shelves carved out of the cave wall. On it was a flask of water and a large white crystal. He took the crystal and smashed it up into a fine powder on a stone table—also carved out of the cave floor. He took the powder and brushed it into the flask.

“Now comes the hard part.” He walked over to the satchel and opened it up. The dragon was curled up in the bottom—seemingly asleep. Trajmac reached down to pick it up and the dragon snapped in one quick fluid movement. It attached its long incisors to the trolls fingers. “Ow! Don’t you know I’m trying to help you!?” The troll was more caught off guard than he was hurt, but he used the dragon’s attack to his advantage and poured some of the contents of the flask into the side of the dragon’s mouth.

The dragon immediately started spasming. It loosed its death grip on the troll’s fingers and fell to the ground. The troll immediately stood up and walked to the back of the cave, grabbed a stack of clothes and brought it back to the dragon. Who wasn’t a dragon anymore.

A man lay on the ground where the dragon once was (still the size of a kitten). The troll threw the clothes next to the man and then pulled out his wand and the man grew to full height.

…

“There are some clothes there for you to wear.” Trajmac told the man as he came to from his transformation. It was dawn and the man was stirring.

The dragon-man pulled the clothes on without a moment’s hesitation. “Why?” He couldn’t form a sentence. His mouth and tong were too small and it made him clip his words off. “Why, did you turn me into a man?” He slipped the worker’s clothing on. Sturdy pants, a shirt with a black leather vest.

Trajmac stood to hand the dragon-man a bowl of mush. “Why? Well, your wings will heal faster if you don’t use them. While you are in this man-state you won’t want to use them and they will even heal faster due to the crystal you drank. Very powerful magic in those crystals.” He pointed his finger up to the cave ceiling. There were black and white crystals hanging down.

“Yes, but this is the worst creature for me to be. I hate humans and they hate dragons. Why didn’t you turn me into a rabbit or a troll, even?”

“A rabbit? Do you think you could protect yourself as a rabbit? As for a troll that is out of the question, you don’t deserve to be a troll. Anyway, the magic of the crystal is to transform between your original form and what you most need to be. And it seems you need to be a man at this point in your life..”

The dragon-man sat down and ate his mush. It wasn’t bad, but he couldn’t tell what animal’s bones poked him every once in a while.

-

Rane arrived with the King’s entourage at the castle. Salen was taken to his stable and Rane was shown her room. That same day her Royal Guard training started.

She had her post that she was to man. A side door that lead from the King’s quarters to his personal courtyard. During the night from midnight to 5 she was to man that post, the rest of the time was training or sleeping. Sleep came when she wasn’t training. It wasn’t a clock work approach. The only part of her life that was consistent was that she had to man her post at the same time.

She was in the practice yard, readying herself to practice with wooden swords. Her spear was resting next to her other gear on the side of the open space.

“I hear she’s just a favorite of the King’s. No real experience at all.”

“I heard that she was the bottom of her class and was only given this position because her mother was general.”

“I hate spoiled brats. Let’s teach her a lesson.”

She overheard these comments, the spear even though it wasn’t in her hand was still helping her with physical enhancements. The three that had been talking about her came around a corner. “Shh, sh.” One patted the air in front of her. “There she is.”

“Hey kid.” Another one said. “What’re you doing in my spot.” He walked over and shoved her to the ground.

Rane hadn’t ever been treated like this before. Bullying wasn’t something that she had ever experienced before. She picked herself off the ground and looked up at the three as they were guffawing at her. She glared at them.

“Ooo, what she gonna do?” The female said.

Rane’s trainer came running over and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, run a way. I bet that’s how you took down that dragon. Just glared at it.”

Rane slowly brushed her trainers hand off of her shoulder. She dropped the wooden sword that she had an held out her hand towards the Spear. It started glowing violently and vibrated right next to the trio of bullies. They stopped their laughter and grew really still.

Rane stomped one foot in reaction to the vibrations coming from the spear. Her right leg bent at the knee and then stomped the left foot with that knee bent. In this stance the spear flew threw the air to land in Rane’s grip. She started chanting an unknown language loud and quiet. Undulating like the vibrations from the spear. She made her face as fearsome as possible. She beat her chest and danced in front of the three. Her spear spun in all the stances that she was taught by her father, but also new ones that had been lost for centuries.

The bullies didn’t know what to think. The language and dance instilled a fear in them that they hadn’t felt since they were first drafted. One pulled out his sword and rushed Rane. The other two were a step behind him. Rane was but a flurry of strikes and parries. The trio lost their weapons in a matter of moments and their steel armor was left in tatters and shreds. She danced around them in circles until they were back to back to back with no weapons and fearing their lives.

Rane stopped. “Do you want to continue?”

They grabbed their mutilated weapons and tried to run off without loosing too much of their armor.

…

Over the next few weeks after her trainer saw her fight the three bullies she became a text book for all of the other trainers. Her trainer asked her to come to the King’s Arena - where tournaments were held. There she stood in the of the Arena.

“Are you able to do that same dance you did the other day?” Her trainer asked.

“Yes. I am…” She started to respond.

But a man from the stands stopped her. “Master Rads. Why are we watching an inductee? We have several seasoned warriors that could probably teach her a thing or two.”

Master Rads was about to respond when the chatter and voices of dissent hushed. The King walked into the stands and sat down next to Master Rads.

Master Rads looked at him and then back to Rane. “Would you demonstrate the dance, please?” He felt that the arrival of the king was enough argument against the other trainer.

Rane reached with her mind into the connection of the Spear. The vibrations started and she displayed the fierceness, but most importantly she went into her forms.

They were impressed by the detail of her foot placements and the angles the Spear was placed. Not only that but she started showing forms that had been lost to the ages. Trainers all started taking notes, documenting what they were seeing.

When she finished with her “dance”, she strapped her Spear to her back.

Immediately they all started asking questions. How she knew what she was doing? What was the purpose of the fourth form where the spear was above her head? Did her mother teach her her forms?

“What would happen if we took the Spear from you?” The dissenter asked. “Or if you had to fight with a different weapon?”

Rane walked over to the base of the stands. “I don’t know. Does anyone have a sword or a mace?”

The King had just come from Court so he had his formal sword. “Here you can use this one.” He said. “Don’t break it though. That is an old sword and I understand it is what makes me King.” He laughed.

There was chuckle through the crowd. The king presented the handle to Rane.

She held the sword. Her father never taught her any sword forms so drawing from her own knowledge didn’t help.

The sword balanced easily in her hand. She moved the sword slowly from side to side. Testing its weight.

The dissenting trainer scoffed loudly, but immediately stopped when the King directed his attention to him.

She stopped and looked at the King. “This sword has the same abilities as the spear. But the real sword is hidden behind these jewels and a layer of metal.”

The King paused for a moment. “Interesting…go ahead.”

She looked at him not knowing what the glow would do to the sword’s adornments. Slowly she started her dance. Trying to draw from the sword instead of the spear. However, it was clumsy. Because much of the strength she used came from the Spear. She reached into the Spear with her mind and started drawing on it as if she was going to move through the spear forms. But instead of doing her forms she fed the power she felt through her arms and into the sword she held. A single diamond the size of her thumbnail popped off of the sword and landed on the ground.

She immediately stopped, picked up the diamond and started to walk over to the King to hand them back to him.

“No. That sword is as old as your Spear, but I didn’t know it was related. If the sword melts away, I will just have a new one crafted. It is only used for court appearances and I actually have two or three other replicas in the treasury. I find this very interesting and would like you to continue.”

She handed Mast Rads the diamond and stepped back to her original position. Again drawing from the Spear and pushing the power into the sword. Slowly, more of the jewels popped off of the ornate weapon. Underneath the jewels was a bright golden light that started to speckle the platinum hilt. She plunged more of the Power into the sword and the leather under hands disintegrated to pure carbon and the metal under that melted. She could feel her hands start to get really hot from the searing metal, but the Power either instantly healed her hands at each burning or they were being shielded by the power, she couldn’t tell.

The melted platinum coalesced into a ripple that traveled up the handle, past the crosspiece and up the blade until it was quietly undulating ball of liquid spinning at the tip of the sword blade. The sword shown with its own power, but because it and the Spear were both contributing to Rane, she started to shine with a silver light.

The ball fell the ground and she started a dance. She could feel the beat from the sword. It sang differently to her than the Spear did. She could feel the movements and she moved with them.

She finished and stood there with the sword in front of her face. The final stance of the forms.

“That’s all good and interesting. But, what if we had someone attack her.”

Master Rads nodded his head and started to stand up. However, the King shook his head. “Master Talis, why don’t you go ahead and demonstrate.”

Master Talis slowly stood up and walked down an aisle onto the ground to Rane’s left. He drew his sword and took one of the most basic training stances with his sword in a parry position.

Rane turned and face him. She could feel his intentions. The sword in her hand sensed all of the possible transitions from this form. She could feel the way the Master Talis was leaning and in less than a second she knew exactly how to parry his sword. She feigned to his left and he came down hard with his sword. In that downsweep of his sword she stepped into his embrace and hooked her blade on the underside of his sword’s crosspiece. Thrusting in the same fluid motion his sword flew several feet ahead of them.

The trainer group gave out a guffaw almost in unison. Master Talis ran over to his sword and picked it up. “She caught me off guard. Again.” He raised it with the point toward Rane. She took her starting form. Watching him again. She could see the way he was leaning and knew what she should do. A path like on a chess board laid out a head of her in her mind. They parried and feigned back and forth. Grunting, sweating and fighting.

Master Talis was the best that they had as trainers, but he couldn’t best this inductee. She was making him work for his title. Finally, Master Rads spoke up, “Rane, I believe that we have seen enough.”

She drew her sword up in front of her face at the command. Master Talis, however, followed through with his attack. She stepped back and unstrapped her Spear and attacked with Sword and Spear. As she twirled the spear in one hand the spear’s butt shrunk so that it was the same length of the sword. She was a whirlwind of furry. She pushed all of her anger at this trainer. His stance was a finishing form and she took full advantage of that. Three quick strikes and Master Talis was sprawled on the ground—his sword several feet away and her sword tip was at his neck and her spear blade at his stomach—both killing blows.

-

“So you got a name?” The troll asked the dragon-man.

“Tol.” He slowly responded. His back was sore from where the spear had pierced his wings. When he transformed to a man the wound translated to a massive gash across his back. Speaking and breathing was difficult.

“You’ll need to go to the humans to get your wound healed. I only know how to heal trolls. I guess you could eat some of this Blackroot. Us trolls take it for pain. It might help you.”

“Why did you transform me?” His mouth felt weird forming words. He was chewing on one of the Blackroot. He could feel a numbing start to flow through his back.

“Well, you needed to heal and as a dragon you are pretty darn big. Also, dragon’s aren’t really liked around these parts. You are about a day’s walk from Jericho’s castle and there are humans everywhere.” He paused for a moment, packing Blackroot and ground up crystal into a satchel. "They don’t much like us trolls either.”

He grabbed a water skin and put that in the satchel.

“Well you should get on your way.” The morning was getting on and the troll was done with his guest. “And I would like my space back. Careful with the Blackroot. It’ll put hair on your chest.”

“Is that a problem?” Tol asked as he walked his way out of the cave.

“Depends if you like hair on your chest or not. Come back if you need more crystal powder. What you have should last you until your wound heals.”

Tol walked down the mountainside. He could see the Jericho castle on a high hill way in the distance. He walked that direction.

…

Rane stood at the gate to Jericho’s castle. She was inspecting the line of refugees and farmers that were seeking shelter. “Whoa, where do you think you’re going with that.” Said her commander to a wagoneer holding a load of people. Each one of them looked weathered and tired.

“These is beggars going to Beggar’s hall, Master.” Said the wagoneer, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “They all said they wanted to ‘ave a better life and the sergeant at Lilliput town gave me this writ of approval.” He held out a piece of paper with the Lilliput sergeant’s seal at the bottom.

“Captain Rane take this wagon to Beggar’s hall.” said her commander, while he verified the number of people in the wagon.

Rane indicated to the wagoneer to start. She had her new sword - the king’s sword - at her side and her mother’s spear across her back. She strode through the city gates with the wagon next to her.

The beggar’s hall was in the immigrant quarter right outside of the main castle grounds. It was a squat building with a courtyard. The wagoneer stopped in front of the building’s entrance.

Rane and the wagoneer helped the people off the wagon. A mother with a child, a couple of old men and one that didn’t look as if he were a beggar, wearing a black vest.

“Are you a refugee?” Rane asked the man in the vest.

“Yes. I just arrived from the hinterlands.” His words stretched uncomfortably selling the refugee status with an over apparent accent.

“Wagoneer, I’ll speak to the Hall Master and take this one with me.”

That caught the wagoneer off-guard. “That’s fine as long as I get paid.”

“You’ll get your money.” She said to the portly man.

They lead the small group of newcomers into the front door of the Hall. The wagoneer’s cost was settled and Rane started to take the man out the door.

“Master Veril I will probably be bringing this one back to you, but I wanted to introduce him to the Captain of the Guard and see if he wants to join up.”

“Captain Rane, I would prefer you leave him here for a few days. He looks injured and you never know what these people may have been going through. This program is very selective; we only bring those that want help here. If he agreed to come here he needs the help.” Not seeing Rane changing her mind he continued. “The rehabilitation process is financed by the King and…”

“I’ll bring him back tonight. We don’t have anywhere for him to stay right now anyway.” She cut him off as he was about to continue his salespitch.

“Fine.” He sighed while he signed the wagoneer’s writ and handed a purse of money and took the document.

As the wagoneer pulled off with his empty wagon, Rane walked with the man in the vest in the opposite direction. “Do you have a name?” She asked.

“Tol.” He said in that strange accent.

“Do you know your way around a spear or sword?”

“I’ve never had much use for them.”

“You mind joining up? It’ll be your choice of course. The Beggar’s Hall, where we were just at, will feed you and try to teach you a skill to get you back into society.” They took a few more steps. “You looked like you might be able to hold a spear. Everyone old enough has a job here.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked ahead as they walked the city streets. A large building that looked like a fort loomed in the near distance. It was made of stone and stuck out among the small homes and shops around it.

They went into the front door and down the hall to door that said “Captain of the Guard”. The door was open and a man sat at a desk in the middle of the room.

“Captain. Can I help you?” The Captain of the Guard asked.

“He came in on the exchange today. Sir.” They were the same rank, but this wasn’t her jurisdiction. “He looked like a good recruit. Thought you might want to talk to him. His name is Tol.”

“Thanks, Captain.” In the same breath he turned to Tol. “Where do you hail from?”

They started through the Captain of the Guard’s questions and Rane decided to excuse herself. She cleared her throat. “Yes, Captain?”

“If you won’t be needing me any longer I’ll get back to my duties. I told Master Veril that I would bring him back to the Hall after you spoke to him. Should I come back after my guard duty?”

“Very well. A few hours will be enough to find out his interest.”

She gave Tol one more look with a head nod and left to go back to the gatehouse.

…

Tol barely showed any interest in what he was seeing. The small fort like building had a courtyard where other human’s practiced with their small weapons. These didn’t interest him. He had lived for over a thousand years. To be subjected to this way of fighting seemed strange and belittling. Using a weapon that was the size of one of his teeth - one of his dragon teeth - seemed humorous.

The Captain of the Guard - Captain Brig - lead him out to the courtyard. They sat down on a bench. Tol was barely listening to what Captain of the Guard was saying. He picked up a wooden sword and handed it to Tol and then picked up a second one for himself.

“Have you trained in war or combat before?” Captain Brig asked. He raised his sword and pointed it at Tol. Tol mimicked what the other man did.

“Yes, but I am unfamiliar with your approach.” He said knowing that using his claws - fingernails - and fangs - teeth - is not what the Captain wanted to have demonstrated.

“That’s fine. We’ll teach you.” He reached out his sword and Tol did the same. He watched and learned the forms that the Captain showed him. Tol’s reach was limited by the wound on his back, but was able to pick up the movement without issue.

“You’ll get training, food and pay for being a part of the King’s Army.”

They continued the short training session and then he went back to the Beggar’s House. He continued to join the Captain of the Guard everyday for a week before he officially signed up.

…

Every day was similar to the previous one. He was able to learn the forms easily and gracefully. Having been a dragon, his memory and motor functions were second to none. The open wound on his back pained him, but he didn’t let that stop him from putting in a hard days work. His days became a blur of exercise, learning to ride berquines, training and the daily dose of his