Sheilah squatted, wiped her forehead, took a sip of water from Fialla’s canteen, and considered what might happen. The greatest punishment was exile. Family was everything in the Redstone. To be abandoned, to be alone, to have even your Totem stripped from you was the worst punishment. In the face of such a thing, death was preferable.
At first, she considered asking Fialla to keep her secret, but it was quite likely that other people had seen her do these things.
“Should I turn around and head for the Wastes now?” Sheilah asked despondently. “Isn’t that what the criminals do? Head to the Wastes to plead their case before their totems in the hopes that they will be redeemed at least in their eyes?”
“You seem bent on heading to the Ashlands, Sheilah. I think you should meet with your father and figure out where you stand before you go rushing headlong into danger.” Fialla disputed.
“There’s no chance that I’m not a criminal, Fialla.” Sheilah replied, rising from her squat and continuing the long trek home.
*****
A month and a half later, the two girls stumbled into camp. Davian eyed them both with a careful eye, and took them both inside his family’s tent.
“Good job finding my wayward daughter.” He offered to Fialla. “We’ll have a small feast to celebrate her return, of course. If you like, I’ll give you the first cut.”
First cut was exactly what it meant. Whatever animal they killed, chicken, sheep, pig, goat, whatever, when they sat down to eat, she would be able to choose for herself the most delicious part of the meat for herself.
“This is ... sudden.” Fialla stammered.
“We were expecting a different reception altogether.” Sheilah added.
“Well... True.” He allowed reluctantly. It was obvious that there was a great deal that he wanted to say, but couldn’t... or wouldn’t. When Fialla glanced at Sheilah, she could see the same thing in Sheilah’s face as well. Davian and Sheilah eyed each other as complete strangers.
“Drink your fill from the jug, and when you’re done, go and show your face to your parents. I’m sure that they’d love to see you after so long.” Davian offered to Fialla.
Fialla, recognizing it wasn’t a suggestion or a request but an order, immediately moved to the water jug by the door. That one was offered to guests, to wash their face and hands, and to drink.
“Not that one, the one by the fire.” Davian corrected Fialla, without turning his back. He continued to eye Sheilah speculatively, a hard glint in his eye. Strangely, Sheilah was doing the same with him. She sat calmly, loosely, hands in her lap, but her eyes were intently focused on his, and that brilliant ring around her irises was back.
The jug by the fire was used by the family. Fialla washed her hands, splashed water on her face and cleaned herself with the towel, and headed to her family’s place.
Davian rubbed his chin. “She was probably upset, no matter how welcoming I was, but I guess there’s just too much going on for her to think in any way that she’s safe.” he remarked after Fialla left.
“Is she?” Sheilah asked.
“Of course. She was quite insistent on following you, and so even if you did go where it’s forbidden to go, she’s safe.”
“Am I?” Sheilah asked.
He suddenly smiled. “That is a good question. That depends entirely on you, I should think. Are you safe?”
*****
“I have a lot of questions for you.” Sheilah began, but Davian shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face.
“You don’t seem to understand my question, daughter: are you safe? Are you safe to be around? Can I bring my wives and daughters in here, in the same tent where you are right now?”
Sheilah blinked a few times in confusion. “What? What? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it’s meant to mean, Sheilah. You’ve been eating the dragonlings, haven’t you?” he asked, tapping his finger against his eye, and then pointing at her.
“What do you mean?” She asked, confused.
He got up and moved to Ladria- her mother’s- area of the tent. Ladria and Mayrin were both Wild Elves, but they treated her as their daughter, and she had always treated the both of them as her mothers. It did raise the question of who her actual mother was, but it was enough that she had a family.
He rummaged around in a chest, and took out Ladria's mirror and proffered it to her.
She could see the thin but visible ring of molten gold running around her irises.
“What is this?” She breathed.
“You don’t know?” He asked curiously and held out his hand for the mirror. She passed it back, and he set it aside carefully.
“I don’t.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s the power of the Tyrant.” He opened his eyes, and from the edge of his pupils to the edge of his iris was suddenly molten flame. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths. “To the world... and to the other clans, we are the clan of the Dragon. But the Dragon is Supremacy, the power of absolute authority that rejects everything else but its own might. That is tyranny, Sheilah, and so, to the other Clans, we are the Clan of the Dragon, but amongst ourselves, we are the Clan of the Tyrant.”
He opened his eyes, and they were normal again. “ So tell me... have you noticed any other changes?”
She gave him a baffled look. “You’re the one that pointed out that change. And to answer you... I don’t think so.”
“Can you breathe fire?” He asked. “You know that we can breathe fire.”
She nodded. She was there at Caidi’s funeral.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“No fire.” She replied.
“Anything?” He prompted.
She shook her head. “I’m always hungry.”
He threw back his head and laughed at that, startling her. “Of course you are. You’re constantly filling yourself with the power of the Dragon. You’re probably burning your food as fast as you can eat it because you’re not controlling it.” He decided. “If you can stop this, you can get your appetite under control.”
She blinked a few times. “Really?”
He nodded easily. “Sure. You just need to control it.”
“How?” She immediately asked.
His mouth twisted at that. “It’s not a thing that can be taught like farming or forgework, Sheilah. You have to learn how to let it go yourself.”
She glowered at him, and he waved his hand in her face. “Your Supremacy is weak, daughter. It won’t work on me. Close your eyes and think on how to release the power of the Tyrant.”
She obediently closed her eyes. “I seem to keep finding excuses to head north.” She finally admitted.
He nodded at that. “It’s time for you to begin your Hunt. We’ll get you started on that, too.” He paused. “It wouldn’t surprise me if that girl heads north with you. I don’t mind that either, as long as you remember that she has to hunt her own.”
She nodded.
He leaned forward, then. “The first thing, though: Can you control it, Sheilah? Can you subdue the dragon within you?”
“I’ve never tried.”
“You have to try, or you’ll have to leave. If you can’t control your power, then it will control you, and we will have to send you away... for our own safety.”
She closed her eyes again.
“Everyone in our tribe- in our Clan- has to learn this?” She asked, and he nodded. “There aren’t many reasons to unleash the power of the Tyrant, Sheilah, and so we are the first tyrants, demanding the power to remain under our control.”
“You said that the Dragon’s power is Tyranny?” She asked, her eyes still closed.
“Mmm. A complicated question. One I’m willing to answer later.” he replied comfortably.
Sheilah drifted in her own mind, trying to find the part of her that needed to be controlled and suppressed.
“A different question, then.” She offered, eyes closed.
“I’ll permit it. Ask.”
“What’s Dragon Metal?” She asked curiously.
“Is that it?” He asked curiously, a chuckle on his lips.
She nodded, her eyes still closed.
“Dragons... dig themselves dens. Caves.” He replied as he watched Sheilah. “They eat up the dirt and rocks, somewhat like the way our chickens have a gizzard to grind up food. The metals in their scales are used in their scale plating. Dragon Metal is stronger than normal metal because it has been refined in the body of a dragon.” He paused and took a sip of water. “The Redlands are a hard land to live in. You need to be strong to live here, and you need strong tools to live here. The Dragons and dragonlings give us those strong tools.”
“Why am I not half-elven?” Sheilah asked suddenly.
“Didn’t I tell you the last time you asked?” Her father asked in response. He always did this. “We will have a very long and complicated conversation about it when you return from your dragon hunt.”
“I need to go north.” She muttered.
“You will.” Her father replied.
“...they never even saw me.” She complained in a quiet voice.
Davian raised an eyebrow at this complaint. “Who? Who didn’t see you?”
“My ancestors. They looked at me, they looked through me as if I wasn’t even there, and then they looked away.”
“...what?” Davian asked, baffled.
“I saw my great grandfather, I saw his wife, I saw his parents, and their parents before them, and above them all, I saw the Tyrant staring down at them with eyes of flame... but they never once looked at me.” She replied, fat tears rolling down her face. “I thought that they didn’t see me because they’d come for Caidi... but in the ruins of the town I saw the spirit of my grandfather. He was lost, because nobody came for him.”
Davian took a breath at that. His father’s spirit.
“He looked at me but didn’t see me either. So lost. So alone.” She opened her eyes and looked at her father.
“Who am I, if my own ancestors can’t even see me?” She asked, tears streaming down her face.
Davian pulled her into his arms and held her. “I see you. As for the rest... It’ll have to wait for your dragon hunt.”
“You always say that!” She yelled, twisting free of his embrace.
He frowned, face twisting. “I’ve said this before, Sheilah: There are some conversations that can only happen when you have come face to face with the dragon and returned.”
She straight-armed him, pushing herself away. Her emotions were in turmoil again, and she didn’t much like the idea that he was keeping things from her.
“Give me the things I need to face the Ashlands, then.” She demanded petulantly, rising to her feet.
“You’re not ready yet.” He replied, his voice rising in anger.
“Is there anything you and I can say to each other that does not require my hunt in the Ashlands, father?” She spat at him angrily.
He turned his head away and sighed in frustration as he struggled to find something to keep her from simply shouldering her things and leaving.
“Wait.” He urged, and there was a tug-of-war within her between her simply leaving anyway and her desire to be with her family.
“What?” She frowned.
“You said... in this vision of yours, you said... you could see the Tyrant Dragon.”
Her eyes widened at this sudden change of topic.
“Yes, that’s right. Not clearly.” She replied coolly, biting off the ends of her sentences.
“Did he look at you?” Davian asked, troubled.
“The Tyrant is a she.” She corrected, and then added, “I think so.”
He adopted a complicated expression at hearing this.
“Another conversation for when I return?” She asked acidly.
He shook his head. “Not many of us have had visions like you describe.” He explained, and gestured for her to sit. “It’s a rare gift to see one’s ancestors, after all.” He explained. “You should be proud.”
Her brows drew together. “I might have seen them, but they didn’t see me.” She repeated bitterly.
He shook his head at that, and waved his hand. “It’s even more rare to catch the eye of the Tyrant.” He paused and scratched the side of his face. “Maybe it’s a good omen. Maybe a bad one. I don’t know. My great-grandfather would know, were he alive. But the short answer is that it’s a strong omen.”
He gave her a sloppy half-smile and a shrug.
“Tell me of the Dragon.” She demanded.
He snorted. “Later. Wandering around killing dragonlings hasn’t exempted you from chores.” He pointed to the tent’s entrance and made a dismissive gesture. “You’ve got obligations to your family, friends, and to the clan. See to them. We’ll talk about the Dragon Totem over dinner.”
He paused. “If you see Fialla, tell her that I really meant what I said about giving her first cut.”
He gestured at the tent flaps again.
“I’ve been in the Valley by myself for months, father. I’d like to clean up and sleep, at least.” She complained.
“I’d like to rest, knowing my daughter is safe.” He countered with a shrug. Rest came when you had seen to your responsibilities.