Dame Elara Brightshield's Arc

Chapter 4 of 11

The drake's first cry split the morning air, bright and sharp. Elara saw Skarsh's shoulders tighten at the sound. He glanced toward the trees, then back at the newborn creature still curled against his chest, scales wet and gleaming. The cry came again, louder this time. Artur pointed toward the marsh edge. "There. A tower with notches carved into the stone. Hunter marks." Elara's hand went to her sword. She'd seen those marks before, on towers near the border where men traded in rare creatures. The hunters were already close, and the drake's cries would draw them straight here. Skarsh looked at her, then at the drake, his jaw set. "I know a way through the roots," he said. "Underground. They won't see us." Elara wanted to go with him, to stand between the hunters and what they'd just brought into the world. But Skarsh was already moving toward the tunnel entrance, the drake wrapped tight in his cloak to muffle its sounds. "I'll lead them away," she said. He stopped, turned back. "You don't have to," he said. She shook her head. "Yes, I do. That's the deal. You show up for the helpless. I show up for you." He nodded once, then disappeared into the dark mouth of the tunnel, roots closing behind him like a door. Elara walked toward the tower, her boots loud on the wet ground, making sure anyone watching would see her. In the distance, she heard voices, the creak of wagon wheels carrying stacked cages full of small, crying things. She drew her sword and kept walking. The hunters would find her first, and by the time they realized what she wasn't carrying, Skarsh would be gone. The world she wanted to build wasn't ready yet, but today it had one more person willing to run toward danger instead of away from it. That was enough to start with.