She stepped outside and took a deep breath of the thin, dry air of the Dragon Clan’s home.
Home.
The Redstone Valleys were possessed of a certain merciless savagery. The sun was always hot and bright, the air always arid.
Her tribe’s tents were scattered irregularly in the valley they claimed for their own. Shade was creeping in at the edges of the valley; evening was coming.
Sheilah didn’t have a bucket or a basket, so she wasn’t certain what chores she was expected to see to. Instead, she descended to the valley floor, where the ground had been beaten, crushed, and turned into soil. Likely her mothers were here, harvesting crops.
Ladria and Mayrin didn’t actually harvest any crops themselves, though they could if asked. Being the wives of the man who was both the tribe and clan leader, they could exercise a little leeway.
Instead, they consulted with the people that were responsible for farming and directed which parts of the communal farmland would be allowed to rest, which would be fertilized, mulched, and plowed in preparation for planting, and they oversaw the division of crops equally amongst the families.
“Look Mayrin, it’s Sheilah, finally come home to us.” Ladria observed, pointing at Sheilah, who came over to be greeted.
“It’s good to see you, mothers.” Sheilah greeted.
“The same for us too, of course.” Ladria replied, and Mayrin nodded. “You look like you’ve grown some.”
Sheilah blinked, and looked down at herself. Had she grown? She couldn’t tell.
“A little taller, but a bit on the scrawny side. I doubt you’ve been eating well, wherever it was that you were roaming.” Mayrin replied to Ladria’s observation. She was always cool and collected, where Ladria was usually a bit more lively.
“Have you seen Kellia and Sellia? They would be happy to know you’ve returned.” Ladria asked as she hunted in her pouch for something.
“I haven’t seen them.” Sheilah replied.
Ladria nodded, and fished out her pouch a small sack of honey candies. “Have a few of these, and share them with your sisters.” She passed the sack over and embraced Sheilah warmly. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to know their sister has returned.”
Mayrin nodded gravely at Ladria’s words. “You’ve been gone a long time, so you’ve missed the announcement.” She patted her rounded belly. “You’ll have a younger brother or a sister soon.” she explained in that same cool voice that always seemed disinterested.
Sheilah’s eyes opened wide at the announcement of Mayrin’s impending delivery, and quickly offered her congratulations.
As she left the fields, she silently prayed for Ladria to also become pregnant. While there wasn’t much in the way of difference between men and women in terms of strength in the Redstone, it was always wished that a son would be born, because a son could inherit.
Mayrin was considered a second wife, though it didn’t particularly mean that Mayrin’s child would be unable to inherit Davian’s lineage, but ideally, Ladria would birth a son so that the bloodline would be considered more secure, at least in the eyes of the other clan leaders.
Politics in the clans were complicated.
Sheilah thumbed a crystalized honey drop into her mouth, which awakened her hunger. Her body seemed to scream at her at the sudden intrusion of something sweet after months of eating... She couldn’t really remember what all she had eaten while she was gone.
Where would Kellia and Sellia be? Hunting in the cliffs perhaps, or helping at the forge, or with the leather workers. The large jugs of water in the tent were full, so they’d already seen to fetching water at least.
Sheilah decided to head to the forges. The heat wouldn’t do her any favors, but she could at least check.
Dell was at the forges, a powerful human covered in brawny muscles. While technically any clansman was capable of working at the forge, or at the leathersmiths, or at the gardens, or at any single job in the tribe that needed doing, Dell and his family spent the most time at the forge, and had for generations. Sheilah herself could work at the forge, though she wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors by doing so. Her skill left a lot to be desired.
“You’ve given us quite a boon, Sheilah.” He greeted with a wave. “So much Dragon Metal! We’ll have plenty of tools for trade this season.”
She gave him a smile, and unlimbered her bow and quiver.
“Can this be made stronger?” She asked. “I think... I’ll be heading north soon, and I’d like to hope that my bow will offer me a chance.”
He eyed the bow critically, crafted from dragonling bones, and then the arrows themselves.
“Bold of you to think a bow would mean anything in a fight with a dragon.” He finally replied after a lengthy examination. “This would drop anything that made it through the passes, certainly... but a dragon?” he added dubiously. He tugged experimentally on the draw, and his eyes widened, and then he adopted a different expression, settled his feet and drew the sinew to his cheek with a grunt.
He released the draw. “I stand corrected. That’s a fine bow. A fine one.” He complimented. “I can make it stronger. The draw will be tighter, but you seem like you’re still growing.”
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She nodded.
“When do you think you’ll be heading north?” He asked.
She bit her lip. There was a restlessness inside her that demanded she head north immediately.
“I think it’s going to be very soon. Maybe in a couple of weeks.”
He blinked a few times at that announcement. “It’ll have to be a priority job, then. Can you pay the price?”
Her mouth twisted at that pronouncement. She didn’t have anything to barter.
“All that metal wasn’t enough for you?” She offered with a bargainer’s smile, and he gaped at her, and then laughed. “Fair enough, I suppose. No, more than enough. You’ve been downright industrious, sending so much back here.”
Sheilah made a mental note to thank Fialla for skinning and sending back however many dragonling hides she’d been responsible for.
*****
Dragon Metal tools were valuable items for trade, she remembered. It wasn’t often that there was a surplus of metal to spare for trade. Offering several tools at the Clan Gatherings brought the Dragon Clan significant bargaining power when it came to exchanging goods that they couldn’t get on their own- like cloth, rope, and wood.
Having accomplished her goal at the forge, she set off for the leatherworkers. The hike from the smith’s place was a lengthy one, but she figured she could make it. Maybe, if she was lucky, her sisters were there. Likely they were hunting the elusive dragonlings, but she could hope.
The ground beneath her feet was packed red earth and stone; a few stray weeds were scattered here and there. The land that the Dragon Clan inhabited wasn’t as forgiving as the lands the other clans claimed, and in a strange way, the Clan of the Dragon was prideful of the fact. Sheilah, too, could feel the pride of the Dragon Clan.
Any member of the Dragon Clan could tend a forge, scrape a hide, build a shelter, hunt and forage for food, or sing the songs of their clan. It was said that amongst the other clans that they delegated each of the jobs to specific people, specific tribes. What if the person that was taught to make leather were to die? Who would take up that role? It didn’t make sense to her.
She reached for the quiver at her hip and grimaced; her bow and quiver were at the forge. She felt exposed and naked without it, despite carrying her knife.
With luck, one shot from her bow could drop a dragonling in its tracks; two if the first shot went awry. How would it fare against a dragon? There were several places she could try shooting at. The eye, the jaw, the back of the head, between the forearm and the body, those were vulnerable points.
She closed her eyes and turned her mind inward, once again trying to sense the feel of the power of the dragon that had nearly consumed her. It was her responsibility to subdue that power, but first she had to find it.
She could feel her heartbeat, could feel the way her chest moved as she breathed, could think back and remember things, skills, her parents’ faces, the twins’ reliance on each other... her mind and body were her own.
So where did the power of the dragon come from?
Time was wasting. She should return to the tribe and help prepare dinner.
*****
By the time she’d returned to camp, dinner was already being prepared. She received a small but gentle chiding from her mother Ladria for being late, and was told to grind herbs for the dishes. She settled down with a stone bowl and pestle. Her sisters, Kellia and Sellia came over to watch her like a curiosity.
“You were gone a long time.” Kellia opened hesitantly.
“Where were you?” Sellia added.
Sheilah eyed the two of them as they stood, hand-in-hand. “Don’t you have chores?” She asked. Normally this would have sent them away, but instead they hung over her.
“Where did you go?” Kellia asked curiously, mirroring her sister.
How should she answer? She’d been numb with shock and grief.
Caidi had died, just like that. It didn’t matter that there was an understanding- the Redstone was a harsh land, and you lived and died by your own strength- it was altogether something different when your little sister, one that looked up to you, looked to you for guidance, suddenly died overnight.
“I saw great-great-grandfather Adlan’s Rest.” She finally admitted.
The twins’ eyes widened. Adlan was a figure from the tales told around the fires. He was a mighty warrior, wise beyond all measure, and it was said that in his trial, he’d slew two dragons- one in its den, and the mate as it was returning for the evening. He was of the ancient ways, and had stolen his bride properly.
When his wife died of old age, he ventured north, in grief. There was a rock formation like a spire that was seared and blackened at the top. It was said he’d climbed the spire alone, without tools or help, and upon reaching the pinnacle, released the power of the dragon and allowed it to consume him utterly.
“What else did you see?” Sellia urged excitedly.
Sheilah closed her eyes and sighed. “Two sisters shirking chores.” She replied sourly and added more herbs to the mortar. She didn’t bother looking up as she focused on her task, and eventually she sensed them wander off.
*****
“I have a gift for my idiot daughter who ran off to wander the northern wastes of the Redstone.” Davian announced as he sat across from her.
She looked up at him expectantly.
“First, some of your questions will be answered tonight. You’ll learn about the Dragon, and what makes them so terrifying.” He explained, and presented her with a wrapped bundle.
“The second is this. It belongs to you, it belongs to the family, it belongs to the tribe, and it belongs to the Clan of the Dragon.” He repeated carefully.
This was something that was spoken when a new dragontooth weapon was crafted. A dragon-tooth weapon wasn’t just something you owned and used, it was something that was passed down through the family as part of a living heritage. Her children would use it. Her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren.
She took the proffered bundle and unwrapped it, revealing a short dragontooth sword with a dragonbone hilt, sheathed in dragonhide. The blade was about as long as her forearm, slightly curved, with a clipped point.
She picked it up with a frown of confusion. How was it hers? She hadn’t yet slain any dragons that she was aware of.
She picked it up and examined the ivory-gold blade. A clan sword was a blade that was meant more for chopping and slashing than it was for piercing. It was a short blade that could be used to cut underbrush, dismember animals for food preparation. It was more for utility than a weapon.
“I had the tooth you took from that oversized dragonling ground out into a proper blade. If you hadn’t run off, I’d’ve given this to you a long time ago.” He explained drily. He pushed himself up to a standing position with a grunt of effort and massaged his back.
“Hurry up with those herbs.” he gestured, and left.