Few things in the life of a dragon warrior were more satisfying than acquiring new equipment. After a year of painstakingly, semi-incompetently, handcrafting all her gear, stocking up at the Ice Tribe’s most elite armory with Vaztyma’s personal blacksmith tickled Zyryxa with glee. Getting outfitted beside Lexyn made the experience even more joyous, allowing her to momentarily set aside her grief and revel in the simple pleasures of clothing and weapons.

Zyryxa meticulously inspected Lexyn’s new garments, checking for flaws while Lexyn smiled bashfully at her feet. The white-furred yeti suit offered superior protection from the slashes and piercing blows of the tundra’s violent denizens, as well as southern Volqor’s most dangerous enemy: the cold. Moreover, the snow-white fur complemented Lexyn’s lighter colors, accentuating the white dragon warriormark on her forehead, her silver necklace, and contrasting beautifully with her dark blue hair. The fit not only flattered her softer figure but also ensured it wouldn’t hinder her ability to draw her bow.

Zyryxa nodded approvingly as she studied their reflections in the mirror. Not only did the white yeti suit look splendid on Lexyn, it looked, unsurprisingly, striking on Zyryxa too. Zyrxine never liked dressing up with Zyryxa, preferring rougher, skimpy, colorless outfits that clashed with Zyryxa’s style. Seeing them match, looking beautiful, but also deadly, Zyryxa saw, for the first time, her true sister.

She put her arm around Lexyn’s shoulder. “I have reached my verdict,” Zyryxa said. “We look good, broodsister.”

Lexyn blushed, her smile widening as she glanced at Zyryxa through the mirror. “You’re not wrong.”

“Definitely not wrong,” the blacksmith said, his deep voice filled with cheer.

Unable to resist, Zyryxa twirled in her new suit and winked at Valinax.

The Champion’s quartermaster grinned broadly from behind his great azure beard. “You two are positively adorable.” Leaning on his workbench, Valinax flaunted his massive, impeccable arms. “You almost resemble true dragon warriors!”

Zyryxa matched his lean, her face drawing closer to his. She fought to suppress a grin. He might have been handsome before some dragon raked his face with its claws, leaving behind two nasty scars. “You look like you probably shouldn’t have fought that dragon, warrior.”

Valinax smacked his lips together. “That is true.” His composure broke into a hearty guffaw. “That was my mistake. Now, before you make the mistake of leaving me, ladies, I reckon you need fresh boots to keep your dainty little feet warm.”

Zyryxa set her unshod foot upon his workbench and snorted. “These dainty little feet traversed the tundra for eleven cycles of the moon; they climbed the north face of this mountain in less than a day. They have no need for your warmth for they are ice.”

“Please always stay this humble,” Valinax said with a wink, chuckling before turning to Lexyn. “I’ve got drake claw boots that seal out the snow and keep your feet warm on a march or during rest. And,” he pulled out several pairs, “the claws could help you kick your way out of a situation if you find yourself prone or latch onto the ice to keep you from sliding over a cliff’s edge.”

Lexyn took the boots and shot a sideways glance at Zyryxa. Zyryxa seized a pair of boots her own size. “While my feet are ice, I admit these have a certain appeal to them.” Zyryxa ran her finger along the drake scales. In truth, they were excellent boots and her feet oft got so cold that they lost feeling. She was not some brutish animal that ran off bare-chested into danger without a brood.

Valinax grunted. “What will the tundra and Monzqora think if they are deprived the blessing of your bare feet striding upon them?”

“Many are deprived the blessing of my stride upon them,” Zyryxa said, slipping into a boot with a satisfied moan that was only mildly exaggerated. She had forgotten the feeling of warmth and comfort on her feet. She tested the claws, stamping them into the ground. Dryxl wasn’t the only one able to claw their way up a mountainside anymore.

Lexyn stomped beside her, and the two dragon warriors laughed at their newfound draconic power as they clawed their way across the snowy courtyard. “I will teach you to ride a drake,” Zyryxa said, “and you will catch your own before we arrive at Riverwatch.”

“Okay,” Lexyn said, frowning at her feet.

“Lexyn.”

“Huh,” she muttered.

“You will be a great drake rider, Lexyn. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because drakes admire loyalty and compassion.” Zyryxa smiled at her. “I bet you could charm Dryxl away from me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Lexyn said, blushing.

“I know,” Zyryxa clapped Lexyn on the back, “because you are loyal.”

Lexyn looked up, venturing a glance at Zyryxa’s face. “You really think a drake will let me ride them?”

Zyryxa let out a guffaw that could have embarrassed even Valinax. “The drake you ride will be honored to be your first mount, sister, because you are going to soar upon dragon’s wings before we are done.”

Lexyn’s gaze darted back to her feet. She slouched, and Zyryxa wondered if she had gone to far. Her heart said a defiant “No.” Her sister needed to be fed confidence until she spat it out from having too much of it. She wrapped her arm around Lexyn’s shoulder. “We won’t do it without stocking up though. I owe you a quiver, after all.”

Soon enough, they were loaded up on gear. Lexyn received her quiver, filled with iron-tipped arrows, and a new wyrm-sinew bowstring. She had lost her blade during the Rite of the Dragon Warrior and now sheathed a sword at her hip. Her old torn-up satchel was traded in for a fresh pack; Zyryxa marveled as she transferred a store of herbs, frostmoss, and gut from the old pack and helped herself to bandages from the quartermaster’s stock. Perhaps most peculiarly, Lexyn stowed a book in her new pack.

“Bedtime stories?” Valinax asked. “I might just have to tag along with a nice big casket of yak’s milk.”

Lexyn hid her face behind her pack.

“I appreciate a companion who brings along fine literature,” Zyryxa said. She hoped Lexyn wasn’t aspiring to be a divinedamned bard.

Lexyn opened the pack and showed Zyryxa her book.

Notes on Volqori Physiology, Zyryxa read. The name beneath the title caught her eye. “Halette of Meridian?”

Lexyn nodded. “I like to read it every day, even though I’ve read it from cover to cover a hundred times.”

Zyryxa grinned. “You must be quite knowledgeable on Volqori physiology.”

Zyryxa loved her slight blush that colored Lexyn’s adorable pinkish skin. She should have known better. This bashful, caring creature lacked the bravado and self-centeredness that were central to every bard.

“I am versed in medica, in herblore, and even dabble in the mixing of potions.”

“And here I was worried you were going to tell me you wanted to be a bard but you actually know useful things.”

Lexyn laughed, her smile beaming like an arrow to Zyryxa’s heart. “Bards can be useful.”

“Not any that I’ve met,” Valinax said.

“I’m telling Dezoq,” Zyryxa said.

Valinax guffawed. “Go ahead. What is the worst he can do? Write a song calling me mean names?”

Zyryxa hollered with fits of laughter. Qoryxa! It felt good to laugh, to be herself again, rather than the shell of who she had been. Then, it hit her. Zyrthalla never did see eye-to-eye with Zyryxa on bards. She was her husband’ staunchest defender, calling him brave for choosing to do something other than wage war in a land where strength was the only source of power.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Lexyn’s hand was quick on the back of her cloak. Zyryxa wished she could hide beneath it right now as she fought to keep the tears away.

“Hey, girl,” Valinax said, clearing his throat. “I’ve got a special treat for you stowed in the depths of my workshop.”

Zyryxa pushed her grief down, for now, and forced a grin. “The depths of your workshop? That is the best you could come up with? Really?”

“Really, really.” He lifted a hatch into some hidden cellar and grinned. “Be right back.”

Zyryxa shared a puzzled look with Lexyn. Lexyn grinned at her, rubbing her back. She felt too good to be real, like a mirage Zyryxa conjured to cope with the death of Zyrthalla. Zyryxa pressed her hand against Lexyn’s forehead to make sure she was warm to the touch and not just the cold Monzqora air. She touched warmth. “A medican, a talented archer, an herbalist, and kindhearted.” Pretty too, she added to herself, not wanting to make things uncomfortable while she still puzzled out her feelings for the girl. “Why would anyone not want to have you around?”

Lexyn let her hand fall and clasped them together as she studied her feet. “B-because I’m a c-coward.”

Zyryxa didn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately, Valinax returned from the depths of his workshop and slammed his cellar shut. He tossed Zyryxa a beautiful, blue handaxe. She caught it by the handle and nearly stumbled. It had to weigh at least fifty pounds but was well-balanced. She aimed for the nearest target and sent the axe whirling through the air until it smashed right through the fur dummy. “Woah.”

“Qoryxite,” Valinax said, grinning broadly. He dropped a second axe onto the bench. “I figured you for a thrower.”

“You are a man of refined taste, Valinax.” Zyryxa stowed the throwing axe in a loop pre-fashioned into her yeti-fur snowsuit.

“I am glad ye think so, Zyryxa. Now,” he leaned onto the bench, “hand over the greataxe and I will give you one made of qoryxite with a sturdy dragonbone handle.”

Zyryxa clung to her mother’s weapon, not wanting to lose this last piece of her. Valinax reached for it, and she shoved him aside.

“C’mon, Zyryxa. A strong warrior can snap that axe over his knee and spank you with the handle. I can demonstrate if you want.”

She shook her head, trying not to rage at him.

“Thank you, Valinax,” Lexyn said, trying to deepen her voice. “Can you think of anything else we would need?”

“You have everything you need, my darling, but your drake looks a bit too naked for my liking. Bring him on over.”

Zyryxa seized the opportunity to get away from Valinax and to keep his hulking hands away from her axe. Dryxl rushed to meet her at the drake pen. “Give him a touch,” she told Lexyn.

Lexyn went rigid. Zyryxa took her hand and led it to Dryxl’s back. The darkscale drake grunted and sniffed Lexyn. “It is okay,” Zyryxa said. “He likes you.”

Sure enough, Dryxl licked Lexyn’s hand. Lexyn tried to pull away, but soon stopped resisting Zyryxa’s guidance. “He really, really likes you.”

“Does licking mean liking?”

“Unless you are bleeding out, yes.”

Lexyn giggled at the repeated caress of Dryxl’s rough tongue.

“You can lick him back.”

Lexyn cocked her head.

“Go on, don’t leave poor Dryxl wanting. Give him a good lick.”

Lexyn narrowed her eyes. “You are playing?”

Zyryxa kept her face serious while Lexyn studied her. Dryxl sniffed around Lexyn’s feet, legs, and waist. Lexyn glanced down at the top of Dryxl’s head, her mouth hanging open.

At last, Zyryxa gave up the game with a chuckle. “While Dryxl might enjoy that, you’d find the experience quite unpleasant. Like licking a salted rock.”

Lexyn stuck out her tongue at Zyryxa.

“I am going to pay for that one later, aren’t I?”

“Someday, when you least expect it, Zyryxa.”

The girls laughed their way back to the quartermaster as Dryxl started ignoring Zyryxa to follow Lexyn around. Valinax got to work on Dryxl, the damned traitor, outfitting the drake with a saddle, saddlebags loaded with dried meat, a net for capturing other drakes, and, best of all, an eight-foot wyrmbone lance with a qoryxite tip. Zyryxa mounted him and slew another training target, to applause, hooting, and whistling from the all-male Pridefort garrison. She launched off the drake’s back, performing a double flip in the air and landing in front of Valinax with a flourish.

“The fanfare suits you,” Valinax said.

“Just missing a crown upon my head.”

“Bah! No, no, no.” He ran his fingers along the lines of his facial scars. “What you really need is to get yourself some scars to wear.”

“No thank you. I prefer to win my battles and looking good. I’m afraid a scar isn’t in my future.”

Valinax snorted. “I will have you know that all the ladies say my scar adds to my irresistible charm.”

Zyryxa gestured to the dragon warriors in the courtyard. Besides herself, Lexyn, and Vaztyma, she had yet to see another woman in the Pridefort. “I can tell! I am practically overrun by women trying to throw me out of the way to get to you.”

He lowered his eyes and shook his head. He struggled to conjure a witty riposte, and Zyryxa raised her hands in victory. But she didn’t stop at simple victory. She kept up the pressure until her foes were thoroughly defeated. “Tell me which dragon did this to you. Did they have any idea what sort of irresistibly charming creature they unleashed upon the poor women of Volqor? I must have a word with them.”

He chuckled. “Try to restrain yourself. I can’t go upsetting you when you leave and I must remain.” Zyryxa sighed. “Besides, Duilahir ain’t one for listening to nothing we’ve got to say to her.

“Duilahir? You tried to bond a dragon that has only ever bonded with women?”

“And yet, hundreds of men have tried over the past millennia. When she’s the prettiest and you’re the most foolhardy and cocky, you think you’ll be the exception. Qoryxa’s Caress! If you announced to the world that you only wanted to bond with women, I bet all the same yak-headed men would come your way convinced they would be the one to fix you.”

Zyryxa failed to suppress her smile. “Fix me? There is nothing wrong with women lying together. We’ve got to stay warm somehow when we have to serve as dragon warriors until we’re thirty. Besides,” she leaned over the bench, “there is no fixing needed,” she knocked on Valinax’s head, “except in the skulls of a man who thought he could bond Duilahir. Really, Valinax?”

He shook his head. “After Vaztyma got Praedax, my only options were little ones or Duilahir.”

Zyryxa returned his head shake. The audacity to try and bond her dragon. She pinched his cheek and spoke like a mother to her newborn, “Someday you will soar, little buddy. You just have to lower those expectations.”

Valinax chuckled. “Yer probably right.”

“No longer bothered by condescending to a younger dragon? You humble old man.”

“Says the proud warrior.” Valinax rubbed the white dragon frozen into her forehead. “What makes you different than the hundreds of powerful warriors who failed to bond Duilahir over the last century.”

“For one,” Zyryxa grinned, “I don’t have a cock.”

Lexyn snorted, breaking Zyryxa’s composure into a sly grin.

“Duilahir don’t understand sarcasm,” Valinax said, “or humor. You just might be too damn charming for our Monzqora queen.”

Zyryxa shrugged, her heart tugging in another direction since last night. “I might go for Qorzillux.”

The smiles and the laughter drained from Valinax. He knows. “Dragons only feel emotion when they merge minds with their knight. They are driven mad when their knight dies. Yet, the dragon remembers the old bond, because parts of the knight die within them even after they die. Those fragments seek the familiar.”

Zyryxa clung to his words, hoping some part of her mother still lingered in this world. “Where is Qorzillux?”

Valinax sighed. “Don’t go disobeying orders and running off.”

“I won’t.”

Valinax winced. “Qorzillux chose to seclude herself in Antryx Mir instead of raging at Loxzua or seeking vengeance on the Fire Tribe. I think,” he cleared his throat, his voice wavering, “that was Zyrthalla’s doing. She wanted to ensure Qorzillux hurt nobody who didn’t deserve it.” Water welled in the proud blacksmith’s eyes. “A good knight, Zyrthalla was.”

Zyryxa wiped at her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I will be sure to only ignore most of your advice.”

Valinax shook his head. “Then enjoy your journey on the way to becoming Duilahir’s dainty little dinner.”

Zyryxa gnashed her teeth. She nudged Lexyn. “Ready to go, sister?”

Lexyn nodded.

Zyryxa sighed. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, Valinax, but I wouldn’t want you to lose the remarkable humility you’ve gained over the years.”

“Aye, little sister, and I’d say don’t hit your head on the sky as you leave, but I wouldn’t want to damage that lofty pride of yours.”

Zyryxa extended her arms and whistled for Dryxl to follow her. The damn drake clung to Lexyn’s side. “Seven days to Riverwatch?”

“Aye, follow the Everice north to the sea. Bigheads are so top-heavy they are known to run a little faster, especially downhill, but they often crack their skulls falling from the heights. So, maybe six days. Maybe sixty.”

“Five it is.”

She turned, breathing in the cold mountain air. Her and Lexyn walked solemnly out of the gates, Zyryxa too proud to acknowledge the whistles from the buff dragon warrior manning the gate. He was lucky she didn’t put him in the ice for calling her “fresh meat.” She certainly wasn’t on his menu.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she told Lexyn once they were through the gates.

“I hope I don’t let you down.”

Zyryxa touched her shoulder. “You have already lifted me up, Lexyn. We’re a brood now.”

Something tapped her shoulder. Assuming it was the presumptuous warrior, Zyryxa lifted her hand to throw a punch. Valinax caught it before it swung. “Easy, little sister.”

“What are you doing here?”

Valinax hushed them and took a few steps further from the gate. “Listen,” he whispered, “I try my best to look out for all the new warriors, and I can already see where things are headed for you, Zyryxa.”

She gestured to Monzqora’s peak, somewhere above the clouds and falling snow. “Those are some good eyes you have, my scarred beauty.”

Valinax scowled. “No more jokes, girl. We both know who and what you are. But only one of us knows who Hatrox is.” He pointed at Lexyn, who glanced at the ground. “Learn from her. Keep your head low at Riverwatch. Try not to draw attention to yourself. Appear less than you are. For you, that’ll be as hard as not breathing.”

“Humble myself?”

Valinax nodded. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “Thanks for the advice, but I won’t bow my head.”

He exhaled. “That is what I fear. Please, Zyryxa, if not for me, for Zyrthalla.”

Zyryxa grabbed his tunic in a fit of wrath. “She’s why I’ll never bow my head for a man. Not you. Not Hatrox. I’ll make her proud of me.” She released him and wiped the tears forming in her eyes.

“You can be a Champion one day,” he said, “but not if he breaks you.” With a sigh and a dramatic wave of his bulky arm, he trudged back toward the gate.

Zyryxa stared throwing axes into his back. Nobody would break her. Nobody! She turned toward the plateau’s edge and gazed down the mountainside. Down the mountain, to Riverwatch, where she would make her need for vengeance against Saevah known. By impressing Hatrox, her opportunity would come. She would kill the murderer and her dragon, and that would be her path to renown. Vaztyma would have to grant her permission to perform the Rite of the Dragon Knight. Then she would bond Duilahir or Qorzillux and become the Ice Champion. Her mother would be proud of her. Damn Valinax for suggesting otherwise. Damn anyone who tried stop her!