In the ancient times, hundreds of years before Sheilah was born, the Clans performed what was known as “Bride Stealing”. A man would choose for himself a woman that suited him, and gathered his ‘Best Men’, which were all the single men in his tribe, and then raid the tribe and steal the woman away to become his. Later, he would send gifts to the woman’s family as an apology for stealing her away.
Naturally she would have to relinquish her Totem and accept his, which was a dangerous prospect. Totems were jealous and did not like to be usurped. If she survived the process of releasing her Totem and taking in a different one, he would send additional gifts to her family.
In the more recent but old times, arrangements would be made between the man’s family and the woman’s family in advance. Gifts would be exchanged, and on the promised day, the groom would assemble his ‘Best Men’ and raid the tribe, and the bride would assemble her ‘Honor Maidens’ to protect her. A great mock battle would take place, and if the groom was very skilled, he could steal the bride away. The matter of the ‘best men’ and ‘honor maidens’ doing quite inappropriate things with each other was often overlooked.
One of the constants of each marriage was the presentation of an iron knife from the groom to the wife. That knife belonged to her, and it served a very specific purpose: If at any point he had offended her honor in any way, she was welcome to drive that knife through his heart, thus signifying divorce. Neither the groom’s family, the tribe, or the Clan could go against her choice, or bring retribution. She was allowed to take her things and return to her original Tribe.
Fialla was always trailing after Sheilah, doing her best to equal the girl. Fialla would copy everything Sheilah did, so much so that she was often called “Sheilah’s Shadow”, which didn’t seem to bother the half-elven girl at all. Instead, she redoubled her efforts to keep up with the human girl, who was taller, stronger, and had a more robust constitution than the smaller Fialla.
Fialla was also known for her spontaneous and aggressive displays of affection towards Sheilah, which made Sheilah herself uncomfortable. When Fialla gave Sheilah the string of turquoise beads, Sheiah thought Fialla had finally decided to go against all Clan convention and try to marry her, something that made the thirteen-year-old girl uncomfortable.
Sheilah hadn’t even considered taking a partner. Everything she did was focused on training for this moment, where she would slay her first dragon and be recognized as an adult. Finding a husband could come after that. She had plenty of time for that.
Fialla pushed herself up from Sheilah’s embrace and looked her in the eye. “I might consider marrying you if nobody else chooses you, horse-face.”
“You want to get shoved off the side of the cliff?” Sheilah asked, and the half-elf grinned in response. She climbed off Sheilah’s lap and scrawled her family’s symbol on the cliff’s ledge, and then glanced down.
“Oh! Oh! Look!” Fialla exclaimed, pointing down.
Sheilah peeked down and her heart froze in her chest. Above the mist-shrouded gorge, a dragon flapped lazily. The beast was monstrously huge; there was no way for Sheilah to apprehend its size because there was nothing she’d seen of that size she could compare it to. It was charcoal gray and covered in zigzagging red and yellow streaks, like warpaint.
“...” Sheilah’s heart locked up in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to jump down and kill it. She wanted it. She was nearly overwhelmed with a greedy sense of hunger that pervaded every aspect of her being. She wanted it. She needed it. More, she knew that Fialla would defer to her.
She unlocked her jaw. “You saw it first.” She made herself say. Her throat was dry as the dirt and ash she was sitting on. “Show me you belong to the Dragons, Fialla.”
Fialla stared at Sheilah, wide-eyed with shock for a moment, and then grabbed her spear, and without saying another word, leaped off the cliff to plummet toward the dragon like a comet.
“By the ancestors.” Sheilah breathed. The girl was fearless.
The dragon below screamed; Sheilah peeked over the cliff; Fialla had impaled the beast just between the wings, where there were no thick armored plates made from Dragon Metal. Fialla hung from her spear as the dragon desperately tried to keep airborne. Both disappeared into the low-hanging clouds.
“Good luck, Fialla.” Shielah prayed.
A strange, alien thought slipped into her mind like a blade, cold and oozing, slowly resolving itself into something she could barely comprehend. Impressions, feelings, sensations that came from outside, from a mind that wasn’t at all human.
She could sense the intelligence behind it; strange, foreign, and hungry.
Sheilah threw herself back against the cliff, grabbing for her bow, nocking an arrow. She looked around; trying to pinpoint the source of the voice that scrawled through her thoughts like claws.
There you are.
“Who?” She asked, but there was no response. She could feel the presence weighing on her mind, demanding she kneel and abase herself. It pressed down on her with almost tangible weight, as if it was-
“Above!” She screamed, throwing herself onto her back, bringing her bow up and the arrow to her cheek in one motion.
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A titanic dragon head loomed above her, dipping down to look at her. She fired her arrow and cheered as it punched through the soft underjaw. The Dragon pulled its head back and roared its frustration even as the overwhelming pressure disappeared from Sheilah’s mind. Sheilah drew another arrow from her quiver and nocked it, flat on her back, pointed at the cliff’s top directly above her.
A runnel of blood, crimson-black, ran down the rocks in a stream.
Sheilah rolled to a sitting position and watched the dragon’s blood pool in her palm before bringing it to her lips.
The blood of a Tyrant carries a strong power. Strong enough to change even you.
The thunderous thread of movement, a pattering of sand and gravel from above let her know the Dragon was still alive.
The blood was fiery hot, rich and intoxicating. Her head spun, her whole body throbbed. She greedily wanted more; her head whirled and her heart thundered in her chest. She took a deep breath and released it suddenly as her muscles, nerves and blood were set aflame.
She shook and trembled as the Dragon’s blood seared its way through her. She couldn’t even keep her hand on her bow as she shuddered and convulsed.
If it was like this after a single swallow, what might it be like if-!
She struggled to calm down and grab her bow. She couldn’t grab an arrow and pick up her bow, her nerves seemed to be scrambled, so she patiently picked up her bow, struggled to affix an arrow to the sinew, struggled to grasp the grip, struggled to draw it.
It hurt to breathe, her guts were hot and loose in her belly, her thighs quivered and trembled, she could feel her whole body slick with sweat.
Come, human. There’s no need for this. Come to me and I will reward you. The cold reptilian thought cajoled her. Kneel before me and I will devour you without suffering.
Sheilah trembled, her body icy cold, her heart burning fire. She knew the feeling, had felt it before, had lain cheek-by-jowl with the feeling since she could remember. It was fear, and it demanded that she flee, she run without looking back.
But The Redstone would not welcome her back. Her clan would not welcome her back. Her tribe would not welcome her back. Her family would not welcome her back. There was no room for cowardice or fear in the Redlands. You lived and died by your own strength.
There was something more, too: She had felt this terror before, when she dreamed of the Great Mother Tyrant. That terror had awakened the nascent spirit of the dragon in her blood, desperately burning calories to resist the avalanche of Supremacy that baked off the dread Mother.
She’d nearly died then.
A realization sparked in her chest. This was weaker, by comparison.
She filled her lungs with heat and defiance and shouted up at the dragon even as she trembled.
“You don’t seem to understand, Tyrant: My Supremacy is stronger! I will have you kneel before me as I tear your heart from your chest!” She screamed through blood-flecked lips.
It roared in response, a booming sound beyond sound, something that split and shredded the air. Sheilah instinctively covered her ears and curled up at that ferocity, bones trembling in their joins.
As the roar fell silent, Sheilah uncurled and looked up towards the cliff face where the dragon had appeared.
There was a deep, horrible noise, a sucking, a rumbling as the dragon breathed in and in and in. It never seemed to stop inhaling.
Just when it stopped, she stupidly, dumbly realized what it meant.
A wave of fire washed down the cliff, melting stone into molten gobbets, roaring past the cliff’s edge and out into the open space that Fialla had jumped into.
The heat blasted away the life-providing air Sheilah needed to survive, but miraculously didn’t touch her.
As the flames receded, she could see the dragon’s massive maw- she could climb inside comfortably with room to spare as it swallowed.
She loosed and the titanic jaws snapped closed and another scream of pain blasted through her mind.
The dragon once again moved away from her line of sight as a light drizzle fell from the sky, cooling and cracking the melted stone.
That caught her attention, too. A Clansman could start a fire that burned wood, heated metal, turned hides to ash, but this... this flame melted stone.
Sheilah ran up the rocks, ignoring the searing heat through her gloves and boots, scrambling. She needed to finish this fight. She hoisted herself up and came face to face with the dragon; a monstrous thing, much larger than the one Fialla had speared.
Six massive horns sprouted from its crest, sweeping back along its body. Most dragonlings were ash and charcoal, and many dragons were as well- one only needed to look around the Dragon Terrace to see this reflected in the dragonhide leather that was worn- but this one, this dragon's scales were a brilliant, eye-catching red that screamed danger. The crimson of blood. Others were an iridescent yellow pattern that flickered between ambers and yellows, those scales shimmered like flames, like fire. Bonelike spurs sprouted from joints, ran down the spine and the length of its tail. Many animals blended in with their environment, either to avoid being preyed upon, or to better conceal themselves to sneak up on their prey, but this dragon demanded to be seen, to be acknowledged and feared. It refused to hide, and dared anyone or anything to approach.
Its great mouth opened, and Sheilah fired another shot down its gullet. Its return roar was titanic, shaking the ground Sheilah stood on.
She stumbled towards the dragon even as it howled, legs feeling like jelly, mind blank, heart surging with fierce determination, the knowledge that existed without thought: It was either it, or her.
The wound she’d inflicted in its jaw with her first arrow was a pinprick compared to the actual bulk of the dragon, but it bled in a constant, thin stream.
The head of the dragon was massive, covered with overlapping scales and bony protrusions. Its six long horns swept back from its head, heavy leathery lips wrinkling back from bloody teeth and terrifying fangs.
A horrible, seething intelligence burned in those hateful eyes that glowed with frightful intensity. Sheilah had downed a number of dragonlings with a well-placed shot from her bow to the eye, but those shots had been fired from ambush, catching them unawares. This dragon had her in its sights, and glared at her with dreadful focus. A slight turn of the head and her arrow would clatter uselessly off the brow ridges, bounce harmlessly off the scales.
One slip, and the hunter becomes the prey.