The Blood Of Our Children On Their Teeth
Fiction - by Elizabeth Walker
Nessara was feeding the winglets when she heard a pained roar from her colony father, Cazuphur. A clattering like stones falling soon followed higher up in their cavern. She cranked her head, pivoting her ear to catch more, but nothing further seemed amiss. Cazuphur was probably still upset by the cracked floor she'd found in one of the treasure rooms below. It would be his job to repair it, and he didn't relish such work. He was like many dragons she supposed: he loved the acquiring of wealth and trinkets, but maintaining his hoard bored him.
Hearing no other noise, she refocused on her pleasant task, nurturing the colony young and making sure each got enough to eat. She and her sisters each took turns hunting for their crèche, but her sisters seemed to see it as a chore—especially the eldest Bylvan. Nessara, in contrast, treasured these quiet moments in the warm dark of the winglets' chambers. The treasure hoard that her colony-family had amassed could, and did, fill the whole cavernous underworld of their mountain home. But this room with the children was where they stored the most glorious furs, pelts, and velvets in their collection. That pile made the room cozy, a luxurious treat while she groomed and snuggled and played with the colony's three youngsters.
Of course, the softest velvet had nothing to the silky scale of each winglets' skin. Already her son's scales were changing colors from the speckled brown and yellow of a young winglet to a rich crimson and black. He would look like his father Cazuphur. Her boy was sturdy on his four feet too with his claws growing in straight and sharp.
All three winglets were almost two now, their tails finally whip-strong with sharp black spades on the end. And their wings were increasingly sturdy, the leather between each bone joint thickening and growing tough with use. Soon she and her sisters would teach them to hunt for themselves, and it would be time to think of mating with Cazuphur again.
Her boy startled her out of her ruminations when he pulled away from his meat and whined in the back of his throat. She folded her wing around him and licked his forehead.
Another roar, louder and furious, made Nessara flick her wings out and spread them protectively over all the winglets. The babes instinctively huddled closer to her, seeking protection, although they made no sound.
A rush of air from the tunnel mouth brought her eldest sister's scent into the winglets' nook. Nessara rose to meet her sister as Bylvan tucked her wings and landed with a thump, stirring the dust on the cave floor. Bylvan smelled like fear, and the whites showed around the edges of her liquid dark eyes. "Take the winglets and hide. A challenger has come."
"A challenger?"
"Yes. We grew too complacent." Bylvan gave a small, anxious keen. "Too secure. I should've been practicing with you and the winglets. How to hide. Where to go. But Cazuphur always seemed like such a strong brute. I never thought he'd be bested in a challenge. Or I thought the winglets would be old enough to be safe when the time came."
Nessara shook her head. She'd believed the same. Indeed, their colony father Cazuphur had fought off several other males his first few months among them. But none lately. Not for a year or more.
"This challenger…" Nessara's heart sped with dread. "Surely Cazuphur will triumph as he always--"
"Cazuphur has been driven away," Bylvan snapped, fangs bared. "Fled to save his own hide. You haven't been in the middle of one of these damn dominance challenges. I remember when Cazuphur killed my first colony father. And then he found our crèche and killed every winglet there so we would be ready to take his seed by the next full moon." Bylvan's wings fluttered restlessly. "Don't put your faith in a colony father. Males all have the blood of our young on their teeth. That's the only way they can become a father."
Nessara remembered the last challenge too, although the pain was more distant. She'd barely reached maturity then. She'd had no winglets of her own, and no duties to the crèche. Cazuphur had given Nessara her son, her first winglet, a few months later. He'd also brought a rich hoard to their cavern, draping them all with glittering jewels and trinkets. She'd been content to submit to him, to see her pile of coins and baubles grow.
Now? Now she would trade the entire treasure hoard under the mountain down to the last dented penny if it meant she could see her son safe and happy.
She ducked her head before Bylvan. "What must I do?"
Bylvan growled, a rumble like a brushfire starting. "Take the winglets. Keep them safe. I'll buy you time with sister." She cast one look at the three younglings cowering behind Nessara in the back of the alcove. Bylvan made a small trill of reassurance to their crèche then spread her dark wings and flew up the tunnel that would take her to the higher chambers of their lair.
Wings flicking with agitation, Nessara herded the winglets toward one of the tunnels that they rarely used. A way down to the river.
Bylvan uttered a dreadful shriek above and the acoustics of the cave caught the sound, amplifying and making it so the very walls seemed to shake with her rage. A sound like rain falling rattled down the nearest tunnel, and a shower of coins flooded the room, glowing hot from dragon fire. Nessara's breath caught, and she plucked the nearest winglet up by the scruff of the neck and dropped her down the river tunnel.
More coins followed the first trickle, and the walls around them shook. Before she could clear the winglets from the room, Bylvan tumbled into the crèche, talons spread on her forelegs, lips curled as she bared her fangs and hissed. A strange male, young, with scales of silver like moonlight clawed his way into the cavern after Bylvan. Long horns curled up and away from his proud ridged brow. He was twice as large as Nessara, and she recoiled from him instinctively.
The winglets clustered tight to her legs, and she could feel their trembling against her body.
Bylvan snapped forward, trying to engage the strange male, but he dodged around her with a hiss, didn't even spare a look for Nessara, and went straight for the two babies still in the room.
Nessara's anger welled inside her like a volcano bursting, and she spread her jaw wide and spat fire at the intruder. He retreated from her with a snarl, and she whipped away, lashing with her tail to get the last two winglets into the tunnel. The male cried out behind her and Nessara glanced back to see Bylvan had jumped on the intruder and latched her teeth around his throat.
Nessara didn't wait, she clipped her wings tight to her body and followed the winglets into the tunnel. Bylvan let out a shrill cry behind her, and a moment later the large male was scrabbling at the cave entrance, roaring and snarling as he tried to cram his broad shoulders and wings through. Nessara twisted and wove through the stale air of the river tunnel, watching the more ungainly flight of the winglets just ahead of her.
With a last growl of rage, the male moved away from the tunnel mouth behind them. Nessara pumped her wings and chirped at the winglets to go faster. A trickling sound told her they had reached the river. Light bloomed below, and Nessara landed with the winglets on the muddy bank. A cave opening appeared ahead at the end of the river path.
"To the water, my bravehearts." The bank grew tall with river grass and mud. Nessara grabbed each winglet by the scruff of the neck and made sure they each rolled in the mud before she planted them in the densest pile of reeds she could find. Little enough protection. "Make no sound, darlings. And stay hidden until one of us comes for you."
She retreated from the edge of the river, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, she padded along the riverbank, counting steps, trying to guess where the room she wanted above might be. A glitter of coin near the mouth of the tunnel caught her eye, and she rushed closer.
The light cut out ahead and she froze, throwing her wings open instinctively although there was nowhere to fly.
Her heart skittered with fear as she recognized the silhouette of the silver male. His skin smelled singed, and he also had a fresh tear through one of his wings.
"Your colony father is fled," he said. "Your sisters are beaten and bloody, laying on piles of your melted treasure. Submit to me, pretty one. You cannot win."
She had heat enough for perhaps one more burst of flame. She was undersized even for a female, weak, the runt of her own crèche. I'll never best him.
And yet she planted her feet and hissed defiance at the male. "I won't let you hurt them."
He gave a small shake of his head and stepped further into the cave.
Nessara slid her hind foot back, and he followed. She held her breath and retreated again. She was drawing him closer to the winglets and yet...and yet...
He stepped on one of the spill of coins on the floor and paused to pinch it between two claws on his front leg. "Odd place to store your treasure."
Nessara pounced. Not on the male but on the ceiling above him. She tore with teeth and claws and felt the ceiling give. The male swiped at her tail, and she snarled in pain as his claws raked her skin open. But she held on and ripped a larger chunk of the ceiling away. A shower of gold poured through the crack and pounded against the male's head.
Nessara sprung away and let him be buried in the pile of treasure from the room above.
The male thrashed, trying to fight his way free of the coins, but Nessara dropped to the floor ahead of him and cranked her mouth open until it hurt. She had the savage satisfaction of watching his eyes widen as she drew breath, and then she blasted the pile of coins around him with every flash of fire in her belly. She belched flame and ruin on him until the metal encasing him melted, until he had thrown back his proud head as the fire burned away his scales and skin and his proud horns caught like blazing torches. The intruder let out a voiceless spasm of agony. She spat heat and death until her own throat ached and her stomach spasmed.
He flailed one last time in his prison of melted coin then went still at last, his ruined wings drooping among the monstrous havoc she had unleashed.
She collapsed to the mud and watched him die, her heart singing even as her breath rasped in her chest.
Bylvan found her later, wounded herself, and together with their other sister the three of them retrieved the winglets. "What do we do about that?" Nessara jerked her snout at the dead male.
Bylvan snorted. "Leave him for Cazuphur. Might remind him to take better care of our cavern." Her nostrils flared. "And our winglets."
Nessara grunted. "We're going to allow Cazuphur back after he ran?"
Bylvan clicked her teeth. "If we don't take Cazuphur back it will mean another male will find us, try to take us. Another fight. Another day like today. Cazuphur's a piece of dung in a diamond mine, but we need him until our winglets are grown."
Nessara groaned and rested her head against her sister's shoulder, smelling the burnt places on Bylvan's body, the coppery smell of her blood.
Her sisters tucked Nessara up tight in the crèche with the children, and brought her sweet honey-milk and other treats to soothe her raw throat. The winglets cuddled around Nessara, tucked up tight under her wings, licking her face and head-butting her side to show love. When her strength returned, she took turns grooming each of them. Her son was last, and she rested her head atop his with a contented rumble.
"Mama," her son murmured sleepily, "will I have to fight other dragons like you and the aunties when I'm older? Cazuphur won't let me stay here forever, will he?"
'Males all have the blood of our young on their teeth,' Bylvan had said. 'That's the only way they can become a father.'
Nessara's heart constricted remembering. She snuffled at her son's head, bumping against the little nubbins that would grow to horns soon enough. "I don't know, love. I hope...perhaps you will find a better way to make your own colony. To have your own winglets."
Content with this answer, her son curled his tail around himself, tickling his own nose with the tip. Watching him, throat aching, Nessara wasn't able to fall asleep at all for the rest of that long night.