James Maxey: Dragonforge

Nadala jerked, as if the number were a physical blow.

The matriarch sighed. "You came asking for freedom from the Thread Room. You wanted a different future for sky-dragons. Many of the tapestries were destroyed by fire or smoke. So, you'll get your wish. Those valkyries whose threadlines have been lost will be released from the breeding guidance of the Nest. Future matriarchs will monitor these unguided pairings; it will take many generations to determine if the choice I'm making is a wise one. It will be the duty of some future matriarch as to how to respond should our race find itself failing. It is, however, my duty to decide your fates."

Graxen lowered his head. He knew her decision before she spoke it. They would not be the first dragons to plunge to their deaths on the sharp steel spikes below.

"You're both to be banished," the matriarch said.

A murmur ran through the valkyries.

Graxen looked up, uncertain he believed the words.

"Traditionally, I would send you forth as tatterwings," the matriarch continued. "But fate has already distorted your bodies with malformed scales. It's for the best that your wings remain intact. You must fly west, beyond the cursed mountains, that you may not contaminate our species further. You'll have two days grace. After this, any dragon you encounter will be duty bound to kill you."

"But," Nadala said, her voice hoarse, as if she'd spent many days crying. "But you said in the Thread Room we would be put to death. We've caused so much harm. How can you spare us?"

The matriarch shook her head.

"Blasphet and his cult took so many of your sisters, Nadala," said the matriarch. "This island has seen enough death."

Graxen was confused. Was this a trick? The matriarch seemed incapable of mercy. Yet, there was no trick apparent as two valkyries approached and released them from the chains that bound them. The iron links rattled as the valkyries carried them away.

"Fly now," said the matriarch, turning. "Darken these shores with your shadows no longer."

As she said this, the valkyries who'd unchained them gave them harsh shoves. Graxen toppled toward the spikes below. His limbs were numb from confinement. He felt weak; he'd been given no food during his entire imprisonment. Yet, he instinctively spread his wings. The wind caught his feather-scales, and he pulled from his descent.

Nadala continued to fall. His heart raced as she drew ever closer to the spikes. Then, at last, she opened her wings and veered away from death by impalement, following him out across the lake.

Beyond the water's edge, Graxen landed in the bare branches of a tall tree. The perch swayed as Nadala joined him. She looked forlorn.

"She should have killed us," she whispered.

Graxen took her fore-talon into his own.

"Would our deaths have undone the tragedy?" he asked softly. "I'm surprised by her decision, but my mother is right. There's been enough death. We've been given the chance to live."

"We've been banished," said Nadala. "I'll never again see my sisters. I'll never again see my home. Nothing lies before us but the unknown."

"Not only the unknown," said Graxen. "We have each other."

Nadala met his eyes, looking lost.

"Graxen, why did we do such an insane thing? Why did we throw all caution to the wind? Is that love? Is it love that rips the world asunder? If so, I no longer know if I want any part of it. We're banished to journey beyond the mountains. It's for the best if we do not make this journey together."

Graxen shook his head. "I don't know. You may be right. I haven't made the clearest decisions since I met you."

"If love strips us of reason, maybe the old ways were correct," said Nadala. "Perhaps love can only lead to ruin. The first matriarchs were wise to remove it from the breeding process."

"Perhaps," said Graxen. "When I first visited the Nest, I was driven from its shores hungry and thirsty, without hint of hospitality. You followed me, gave me food. That's still a cherished memory; it gives me hope for the essential goodness of the world. Isn't that love as well?"

"That wasn't love, Graxen," she said. "That was only… only kindness."

"Then perhaps kindness will be enough to sustain us as we journey over the mountains," he said. "If you'll accept my kindness, I pledge to do all I can to help you survive in that strange land to which we must journey."

Nadala let her fore-talon drop from his grasp. She looked down to the forest floor. A chilly winter breeze stirred the fringes on her neck. She shivered, looking lost in thought. She glanced back in the direction of the Nest. Suddenly, her body stiffened.

Graxen followed her gaze and found a squad of valkyries coming toward them. Some were wearing armor and carrying spears. Graxen and Nadala were naked-perhaps they could outfly them. Unfortunately, they were also half-starved, with bodies and wills weakened by days chained in solitary cells. These valkyries were no doubt at the peak of health.

Except, as they drew nearer, it became obvious that the lead valkyrie was injured. Arifiel led the squad, unarmored, her shoulders covered in bandages. She flew slowly, in obvious pain, yet the other valkyries controlled their speed to stay behind her.

The valkyries reached them and Arifiel landed in the same tree that Graxen and Nadala rested in. The other valkyries found perches in neighboring trees. Graxen looked around, expecting to find icy, hostile stares. Yet, instead of scorn, these valkyries had a different emotion in their eyes. Graxen was hard-pressed to interpret it. He noted that Arifiel wasn't the only one among them who wore bandages. Several had bare, raw spots on their wings where feather-scales had been burned away.

"Nadala. Graxen," said Arifiel. "The matriarch doesn't know of my mission here. You've been sent into the world unarmed, without food, without even a blanket to shelter you from the cold at night. We've come to rectify this."

Arifiel nodded toward a nearby valkyrie who tossed her spear toward them. Nadala caught it. Seconds later, she caught a helmet thrown her way, and one of the valkyries began to unbuckle her armor.

"Graxen," said Arifiel. "You left a bag in my care. I've come to return it."

Again she nodded toward one of the valkyries, this one carrying his satchel. It bulged, stuffed to the point where its leather seams looked as if they might rip open. The valkyrie tossed the bag to Graxen. In his weakened state, he was nearly knocked from his perch when he caught it.

"There's food," said Arifiel. "Dried fish, dried fruit. A wool blanket and flint and steel to start a fire."

Nadala slipped on the helmet and caught the armor that was tossed to her by the valkyrie who'd stripped.

"Why are you doing this?" Nadala asked.

Arifiel looked around the band of warriors. "Every one of us fought against the sun-dragons; every one of us faced their flames. We will carry the scars for the rest of our lives."

"And we are the cause of those scars," said Nadala, her voice cracking. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "We betrayed you! I betrayed you! I'm the greatest shame of the valkyries!"

"Sister!" Arifiel snapped, sounding angry. "You didn't give us our scars. Blasphet and his minions caused this suffering. Not one among us views you as our shame. Indeed, we view you as our greatest hope."

Nadala sniffled. "What?"

"We all witnessed Graxen in combat. He was fearless and cunning; the shame of the valkyries would have been if his virtues were allowed to pass from our species. We have plain evidence that the system we were prepared to give our lives to defend was a flawed one."

"But-"

"We must leave you now," said Arifiel. "Buckle up your armor. Keep your spear sharp. I don't know what dangers await you in the lands beyond the mountains. But before I part, give me your vow: whatever foes you may face, never surrender. If you find yourself facing an army of sun-dragons, face them as a warrior born. Teach them what it means to challenge a valkyrie!"