Atalanta is four when she gets her first vision. It is one of increasing urgency, one that makes her blood pound in her temples and forces her to her knees. Her mother, prone to inexplicable fits of anger and rage, reaches out and grabs her wrist. Atalanta can see her green skin, usually an olive, flush to a darker hue. Her eyes, milky white with age, stare at her with open hate. It is not a comforting sight, to be stared at with those white washed, opaque, orbs.
"Stop yer games and fetch the fire, Atalanta!"
But Atalanta can't shake the vision from her bones as she takes jerky steps to the fire pit in the center of the village. All she can see is not the path, the cobblestone road bending before her; but rather, pink.
A brilliant pink, like rose quartz, like the beads hanging from Elder Lo-Zheng, like the sun setting, spilling its blood across the sky. A roar rattles around the edges of her conscience, resonating within her.
Is this a vision of the future, or the past? She wonders.
But the vision soon fades with the sound of crackling fire wood, and she continues with her task. For a few years, the memory resigns itself to the back of her brain, things not remembered wholly but yet not completely forgotten either.
It is not until much later, does it come true.
"Atalanta. Do you know your namesake?" Elder Lo-Zheng asks. Atalanta focuses in on her face, the pale green skin marred only by wrinkles, tarnished with age. She allows herself a moment of thought before she honestly answers.
"No." Her voice is strong, unwavering. She is not afraid to admit her faults. Elder Lo-Zheng looks pleased, Atalanta can tell. She can tell by the tilt of her chin, the flex of her smile. Elder Lo-Zheng towers above her, but Atalanta is not afraid. She knows, that she too, in time, will come to be this size. Taller than men and Urgal alike, yet smaller than Kull, Orcs were a blending of two unlikely races together- Urgalra and Elven. Her Elven heritage is strong and prominent, expressed by the tilting of Atalanta's eyes, the fullness of her lips, and the light hue of her skin. Even so, her Urgal heritage is just as apparent too- her skin, though lighter than other Orc's, still has an undeniable green tint, and her canines are visible beneath her lips. Not only this, but two curling, ivory horns sprouted from her cranium, nestled between a torrent of black hair. She is beautiful by Orc standards.
Even as Elder Lo-Zheng smiles, it wavers. Her happiness is fragile- it is a high fever that will always, always break.
"Many centuries before my time, there was a man named Eragon. You know of him. I know of him. But anyways, this Eragon feller. He isn't relevant at all, but your namesake was much earlier than him." She hacks a cough, a shuddering, hacking cough that is more of an exhalation of a lung than of air. Atalanta wonders why she would even mention Eragon if he was irrelevant, but holds her tongue. Elder Lo-Zheng didn't like to be interrupted, and all would be revealed with time.
"There was a woman, named Atalanta. She was abandoned by her parents at a young age, left in the mountains to die. And all because of what?" Elder points a bony finger at Atalanta, who only blinks.
"Because, child- she had the mark of the dragon. Not the silvery mark- this was far before the riders. No, she had Dragon Eyes, as they called it. Eyes that changed color with the weather, with her emotions, with the seasons. One day they'd be red. If a storm was coming, they'd turn white. On Wednesdays they change to a gold, during summers a silver. Now, naturally, this would be regarded as nothing short of amazing. But this was a time when fear ruled the land, and it made them paranoid. They called her a bad omen, for wherever she went, disaster followed."
"So they left her in the mountain, and then what? Let me guess. She died a horrible death and she was forgotten until her bones turned to dust." Atalanta finished, crossing her arms over her barely-developed chest. Most Orc women were busty and burly, curvy and strong. She, on the other hand, had yet to cross over to womanhood.
"That wouldn't be a very good story now, would it? No, she did not die. And besides, if she died, you wouldn't exist. After all, that was your great-great-great-great…. Ah, you get the point. Anyways, she survived. A certain dragon took her in, a wild one. He was huge! You could hold entire villages in the caverns of his skull alone. Hopefully you see it one day. Well, this dragon raised her as his own, god knows why. Perhaps he saw something deep within her, some hidden potential. Or perhaps it was because of her eyes. She eventually became the most famous hunter of time. She was killer of bears and Minotaurs, bane of the Urgals, slayer of werecats and witches. She brought justice to an unlawful land prone to anarchy. And with the dragons on her side, she was virtually unstoppable, despite being unable to use magick."
Atalanta smiled, lowering her eyes. She, too, had these dragon eyes, and they were more of a curse than a blessing. No dragon had ever taken her into his favor, and the entire village, though they were not cruel, treated her like she was a virus, giving her a wide berth when she passed.
"Why do you look so sad? You will bring great honor to this village- I have seen it."
The younger orc let out a gasp of surprise, eyes flashing open. Elder Lo-Zheng only saw visions for the chief and kings, for great things yet unseen.
"What have you seen, Elder?" She said a little breathlessly, stepping forward and dropping to her knees. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the vision which harassed her in the past came forward in her mind. Elder chuckled, eyes crunching up in delight at her childish excitement.
"Nothing that you haven't already seen. I know you have The Sight, Atalanta Dragon-Borne." She let out a cackle of laughter, slamming her wooden staff into the ground. Atalanta's eyes widened, having had no idea that Elder Lo-Zheng had seen what had been in her mind for so many years.
"Then please show me what I have forgotten before I take my leave, Elder! You know what today is." Her voice softened, and she trailed off, eyes filling with sadness. Her smile quickly changed to a frown as she pictured the events that would later unfold- the courting ceremony. Males from all the other tribes would be journeying across Algaesia to her village in search of females, as the youth were separated from a young age. It wasn't that Atalanta didn't want to be chosen, she just knew she wouldn't be- one look at her eyes and it would be over.
Elder Lo-Zheng grabbed the youth's face and pulled her in, connecting their foreheads to share a passing memory. Atalanta's eyes fluttered closed and she saw two paths, two lives.
On one hand, she saw a happy, long-lived life. She would be chosen. Someone would find her beautiful, and they would have many children. She would be a mother of entire generations.
On the other, she saw a short life with many experiences most could not even fathom. One filled with honor and war and bloodshed. But amidst this pain, there was beauty also- in a scaled form. She could be a protector, a fighter, a warrior- a goddess in the eyes of most. She would find glory in death, and in her death, she'd find glory.
Atalanta paused, but she knew in her heart what she'd choose. Elder's laughter sounded next to her right ear, and she turned- and found herself face to face with a brilliant creature.
She was definitely feminine- it wasn't just in her frame, but her mind, as it pressed against her conscience, was. She had brilliant pink scales, like a fading sunset, with the brilliance of a thousand gems. The creature before her was a dragon.
Much taller than she, and Atalanta was tall- she barely reached to the dragon's shoulder. Her head was many feet higher, and she stared down at Atalanta, bright blue eyes glittering like an ocean in sunlight. Her belly plates were a faint yellow, almost white, but they too, were as equally brilliant as her body armor. Some of her scales were bigger than Atalanta's hand, while the scales along her cheekbones and encircling her eyes were no larger than her fingernail. At the base of her head were a series of horns, curling and ivory, varying in thickness but intimidating nonetheless. Down her muscled neck were spikes, which would provide added protection against attacks from above.
Along her back were two wings- two beautiful large wings that were scaled atop the wing, but beneath the wing was a leathery material. It would aid her in flight, but it would be vulnerable as well. Her back was sloped, yet muscular, her haunches strong and pronounced against the scales. A tail, many feet long, twisted a little anxiously in the air, snapping back and forth with starling speed. This was a creature designed to kill and maim.
The dragon roared- a deep battle cry that made the earth tremble and trees shake. Her teeth were white and sharp and numerous, with a red tongue within.
Atalanta let out a battle cry of her own; a higher pitched scream that sounded much like a wildcat, but much longer and louder in volume. Her heart pounded in her chest and the dragon seemed to smile, radiating approval. She began to hum, a deep vibration resonating within her throat and coming out as a chuckle.
Rider.
The word came into her mind, but the thought wasn't her own. She looked at the dragon, who nodded.
Rider. That's what she would be. A rider. The word is foreign on her tongue, forbidden. There hadn't been an Orc rider- ever. She would be the first.
"Dragon…" She whispered.
Yes.
And as quickly as it came, the vision was gone.
Once the vision cleared from her vision, Atalanta leapt to her feet. Her black hair swung around her with every movement, and the light, however dim, reflected off her horns. She smiled broadly now, and clapped her hands together.
"Elder, what is my quest? What is my purpose? Where do I go-"
Elder Lo-Zheng's face darkened and she struck Atalanta in the shin with her staff, making the girl cry out and jump back, favoring the attacked leg.
"Don't give me that look. You'll face wounds much more painful than that on your quest. What is this disrespect? All will be answered in time. Now sit."
Atalanta frowned, and her eyes flashed a deep red, displaying her rage. However, when Elder hit her once more with her staff, the fire in her eyes cooled, if only for a moment.
"Now, my child, I have had much time to ponder over the course of action we should take. So why not hit two birds with one stone? You need a partner, for you tread a treacherous path. Eggs are rare nowadays, and fiercely protected. You have three options- The Urgal keep, which is the closest, but still a month's travels. Your other two options are Carvahall, or Du Weldenvarden.
All are very difficult to breach, the latter being guarded by magic, Carvahall being reclusive and paranoid of invasions, thus the unreachable walls, but the Urgal keep seems the quickest way, though albeit the hardest to overcome."
Atalanta sat in silence for many minutes, finally understanding what she was implying. She gulped, feeling rather uncomfortable with the decision she'd have to make.
"Really, Atalanta. The festival begins in a few hours. You'd do well to make a choice before nightfall."
She sighed, and gave her answer.
"Okay."
Atalanta hurt all over. Her legs, which had been crudely plucked and lotioned with sweet smelling soap, shone in the dimming sunlight, and her long black hair had been brushed and every curl was held in place by beeswax. Elder Lo-Zheng had spent a good hour painting intricate designs upon her face in purple dyes, and her eyes, now a soft gold, was outlined in heavy red lines. Her horns, a soft ivory, were now painted gold. All in all, she was given a fierce look, which would raise a lot of controversy, but that was the point- to make Atalanta stand out amongst the other girls who were made to look docile and becoming.
To her horror, she was even dressed in a white loincloth that left her feeling exposed, for her hips and thighs could be seen.
And all of this was done in two hours.
Atalanta shivered, rubbing her arms together to generate heat. She had to tell herself several times this was necessary to change her fate- she would have to take a mate to get the egg, to live a life. Even so, he felt like she was being duped.
All around her, lights were lit, torches being put up. Colorful banners swayed in the wind, and laughter could be heard. In the distance, a woman was singing. The sun was dripping lower into the sky with every moment, bathing the world in a calming glow. All around, there was singing and giggles. Elder Lo-Zheng tapped her chin, reminding Atalanta to keep her head held high, and to smile. They had yet to notice her.
Is this really necessary? I mean, honestly.
The voice in her head was not her own, and she looked around, expectant. Nothing was amiss- there was no sparkling creature to be seen. Not only this, but the voice was different, more masculine. Was she going insane?
I'd hope not. Pay attention, Atalanta, for your future approaches.
Atalanta bared her fangs in an uneasy gesture, chills running down her spine. The fact that someone could access her thoughts so easily, without her consent, made her shudder. She felt the unsettling feeling that she was being watched, and turned around, to find the source of discomfort.
He was just slightly taller than her, but this would change with time. What caught her eye was his skin- how odd it was. There was no green hue in it anywhere, and what's more, he had no horns. It took her a moment to realize she was staring at an intruder, a human.
His eyes were electric blue, brighter even than his hair. It was tied back in a high pony-tail, each strand intricately done in thick locks. She couldn't think of the word, for it wasn't commonly said, or even used. No orc man had this much hair. And his face- a strong jawline, the hint of a cleft chin, a scar across his nose. He smiled at her, a rugged smile, devoid of stain or fangs- a human, white smile. He seemed amused.
The word is called "dreadlocks". And yes, I find you quite endearing.
Get out of my head!
The man shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. She hadn't noticed before, but he was shirtless- a muscular chest with a hint of blue hair, with a strong abdomen. His navel was pieced. His brown pants hung loosely off his hips, exposing his "v" line, and a sword hung from his side. She could see the hilt, and a gemstone embedded within, a large amethyst, a royal purple.
Filled with disgust towards herself for being so aware of his attractiveness, she turned away, wishing she had more clothing on. The wind ruffled her loincloth, making her shudder. There was a sound in the distance- not the sound of horns blaring, which should've sounded minutes ago, to declare the entrance of men into their town, their lives, nor was it the sound of footsteps. It was the sound of wind, of wings.
Faces turned upward to the heavens. Atalanta noticed the stars, how they pressed against the sky prominently, like salt spilled against a dark cloth. A figure appeared. Not a figure, a shape. A large shape, getting closer, and closer, with surprising speed.
"Dragon…" She breathed, and chaos reigned. Atalanta smiled, but it quickly faded. As people screamed and shoved past, realization sunk in- this was not her dragon. This was a green dragon, scales that resembled a forest in spring. It landed with a shattering crack, barreling into the walls of the village, wings outstretched. The wall groaned, and to her dismay, it fell.
Where Elder Lo-Zheng stood.
"Elder!" Atalanta screamed, pushing against the screaming crowd. She knew she was too far, but it was too late- the stones rained down, each one larger than her, and much heavier, and the entire left column vanished beneath a cloud of dust, stone, blood, and dragon. Atalanta didn't care- she leapt over one stone, and another. Soon she found herself face to face with a dragon, its yellow eye watching her with distrust. She noticed there was a saddle at the base of his neck, and it snarled. Blood stained his teeth black. He was truly massive- she could lay down on his face if she wanted with room to spare. The dragon lay on its side, a wing folded at an odd angle beneath him, and his shoulder was torn to the bone. His breath came out in hot gasps, and she saw, with horror, his back leg had been severed completely.
"Move! Move! You're on my friend!" She yelled, tears streaking down her dirtied face. She pushed at his jaw with her hands, feeling his scales twitch beneath her touch. He rumbled in response, and she let out an anguished cry- she could not move him no more than she could a mountain.
The dragon tried to lift his head, but collapsed, making the heap below them tremble. Atalanta fell to her knees, body going numb with grief. She hardly noticed the white dragon landing from above, roaring a triumphant cry, before taking the green dragon's neck in its jaws and severing it completely from the spine. She didn't care that the blood, hot and boiling, rained down on her. It wasn't until someone dragged her down the rocks that she awakened from her stupor.
It was the human, and he looked down upon her with rage and disgust.
"What the hell are you doing? Run! Do you hear me? You'll be killed!" He seized her by the arm and yanked her to her feet, and she had to stumble to keep up with his frenzied pace through the chaos. A woman darted past them, an elf- a flash of dark hair, pale skin, pointed ears. She barely had the chance to cry out the name of who Atalanta assumed was beheaded dragon, before she leapt up the stones and sunk her sword into the white dragon's haunches- or at least tried to. An invisible barrier seemed to push the blade away. Atalanta saw unmentionable grief and rage wash over the woman, and the elf sobbed uncontrollably as she did so.
Atalanta couldn't pry her eyes away- she had to see what happened to the pair, the rider and dragon severed from their ties.
A figure climbed down from the white dragon, a female. Her blonde hair was almost white, large, stormy grey eyes that peered angrily from behind the carpet of bangs. Her ears were pointed- yet another elf. She smiled, as if they were meeting under happy circumstances, and said something, but Atalanta was out of ear shot.
And then, in a blur, the elves were fighting at warp speed. There would be a flurry of swords, of clanging metal, and then they'd leap apart. The white dragon watched with interest, before another roar sounded from afar, and it took to the air, bathing the area with a stream of white and blue flames from its maw as it went.
Atalanta turned and ran, finally coming to her senses. All around her, war was raging, the Orc village caught in the center of the turmoil. It seemed to be a god's war, with dragons fighting in the sky and elves and Kull fighting on the ground. The human was nowhere to be found.
A hand grabbed her wrist, and Atalanta spun around, finding herself face to face with a Kull, many feet taller than her in stature. His dark green skin was covered in scars, and one of his horns was broken.
"You're a pretty little Orc female. I'll get a good price for you. And those eyes- I've never seen an Orc with grey eyes before." Atalanta pushed against his chest, yanking her arm from his grasp in a fit of rage. She was not to be owned, or sold! As he reached for her again, her fist shot out and slammed into his armor, denting it. The kull frowned.
"You might have a bit of kull in you, Orc." He said darkly. "You dented my armor." And his own fist shot out, meeting her face with a sickening crunch, and all went black.
Atalanta awoke rather reluctantly to the sound of turning wheels and jingling chains. The back and forth motion of the cart she was in made her a little sick. With a groan, she sat up, one hand reaching for her head, the other to make sure she was decent. Relief flooded through her when she felt her loincloth, though singed with burns and torn, still in place. Now sure that she wasn't naked, she opened her eyes a little wider, despite the bright lighting that burned.
The cart was crudely made from wood, and she could see through the cracks and crevices beneath them. The wood was a deep brown, carved from old trees, she assumed, by the rings in the design. There were no seats, no chairs, no beds, nowhere to go to the bathroom, which would account for the scent of piss. There were seven other Orcs in captivity with her, counting herself. Each one was familiar, as they were in the same village, but their names eluded her, for they had never spoken. They quickly lowered their eyes whenever she began to stare, as if ashamed of their current predicament. Above them, there was no roof, only a sky and the relentless heat of the sun. A white dragon circled overhead.
Atalanta found, that while she could move, the chains prevented her from doing much. Even if she somehow found a way to stand up without causing alarm, how would she run? The chain connecting her ankles was strong. Perhaps if it were a human chain, she could snap it, but each link was the size of her hand, and she realized with a sinking feeling that if she touched them, they burned to the touch- they were enchanted.
She tried to make sense of what had happened. Firnen was the dragon's name, which made her recount her history lessons that Elder had mercilessly beaten into her, saying that those who did not remember the past were doomed to repeat it- and grief, newly remembered, slammed into her once again. Elder was dead. Atalanta fought back tears, and took a deep breath. Focus, she told herself. How would she escape? What would Elder tell her to do?
To assess the situation and meet my destiny. She thought, and her thoughts cleared. A warm wind blew through the cart, making her hair swirl around her, and she imagined it to be Elder, caressing her cheek, saying she was there. Atalanta felt a rush of rage as she remembered how the Kull said she'd be worth a good price.
I am not to be owned! She thought fiercely, and lifted her elbow. She brought it back down with surprising force, shattering the wood and jumping back, landing crudely on the ground. She felt her loincloth tear on the wood, exposing her, but that was the last of her worries. All around her, marched Urgal and kull alike, shock and surprising filling their faces. The nearest one charged at her, and she nimbly leapt to the side, barely avoiding his grasp. Adrenaline made her fast and strong, and she reached down to grab the chains around her ankles. A burning smell filled the air as her flesh touched the stone, and she felt pain like molten lava shoot through her arms. It made tears come to her eyes but Atalanta did not falter, and the chain snapped beneath her grasp.
Above her, the white dragon flew to a lower altitude, ready to intervene should she prove to be a threat. Wasting no time, Atalanta raised her fists, keeping her back to the cart so no foe could sneak up on her. The Urgal men formed a ring around her, preventing her escape, but she was not afraid. Her fist shot out with speed and force, striking the first Urgal to come into her range, and as he recovered from the hit she grabbed his shoulders, using her weight and momentum to propel herself over him, using him as leverage. She landed in a crouch, a small smile pulling at her lips, and she ran.
Atalanta didn't get very far. While the men didn't chase her, the dragon did, and there was the sound of a fluttering of wings, a sound like leather and thunder. The dragon landed in front of her, wings folding against its back with ease, and it roared. Its very size seemed to block out the sun, and its scales sparkled like new-fallen stone. It regarded her with bleached white eyes, radiating hate. A growl sounded from the throat of the dragon, making the very ground shake beneath its force.
The woman she saw from before dropped from the dragon's neck, landing gracefully with elf-like speed and dexterity. She regarded with Atalanta with cold eyes, analyzing her every move.
"Make another move and you're dead, orc." She spat the name like it tasted rotten, and Atalanta flinched at the hatred behind the word. The white dragon curled a tail protectively around its rider, watching the interactions closely.
"It's better to die on your feet than live a life on your knees." Atalanta said in retort.
The woman smiled coldly, muttering a soft word below her breath. Chains materialized out from seemingly nowhere, wrapped around her legs and wrists, binding both limbs closely together, preventing any movement. Shock spread over Atalanta's face, and she found she couldn't speak either.
"You should feel proud, Orc. It's not every day that you get to see this blade in action. Do you know what it's called? Vrangr, or light bringer. Galbatorix himself used this blade."
Atalanta stared deep into the woman's eyes, unfazed. She readied herself for the final blow, watching the rider lift her blade to deliver her execution.
However, she hesitated- and Atalanta saw a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye.
"Jira, make another move and your head will be on the line, not hers." The human said, blue eyes sparkling mischievously.
Jira, newly named, frowned, and her face flushed red with irritation. The dragon, once formidable, lowered its head and dropped to a crouch, distaste and fear present in its expression, uncertainty flashing in its eyes.
"Why are you here? Your territory is many miles away from here. The wild ones-"
"The wild ones are under my command now, Jira, the-one-who-ran-away. Unless you wish to challenge me?" He snorted, humor in his eyes.
"And this dragon of yours. He couldn't even defeat one of my hatchlings- granted, unbonded dragons are far fiercer than the tame ones, but it's quite sad."
The white dragon snarled, making Atalanta's blood run cold. In her eyes, this dragon was far from weak- she saw herself how he had taken down the green dragon and killed it ruthlessly. Jira put her sword back on her hip, and leapt upon her dragon's back. Within seconds, they achieved flight, and was found once more circling the skies.
He snapped his fingers, releasing Atalanta from her bindings, and she fell to the ground with a soft thump. The human male looked at her oddly, a smile twitching at his lips, and she remembered with humility now, she was naked, and flushed a darker green.
We always seem to meet under unusual circumstances. First, you were trying to move a 5 ton dragon, now you tempted a rider to killing you. My name is Veren, but you can call me Ren.
Ren, thank you and all, but get the hell out of my head.
Make me.
Are you a good guy, or bad guy? She wondered.
It depends on your point of view.
Atalanta snorted, turning to find the Urgal men staring at her and laughing. She scowled, attempting to shield her private areas with her hands, with little avail. There was just too much of her- too much curve and woman and orc.
"What was all that about? And why did you free me? Who is Jira?"
The male seemed truly tired then, but he smiled a confident smile meant to reassure. The wind blew around them, ruffling his dreadlocks and caressing her sides.
"All in due time, Atalanta. Why don't you come with me, and I'll tell you?"
She eyed him with distrust. "What's the catch? There's always a catch."
He chuckled nervously, and she glared at him.
"Okay, fine. I'll be completely transparent with you. I want you to come with me because my boss has been keeping tabs on you, and I've been instructed to obtain you somehow, whether by kidnapping or purchase. If you come with me, I'll tell you everything you wish to know, and give you the thing you desire." He said this quickly, without taking a breath, and she blinked, taking it in.
"First off, Ren, I am not to be purchased. I am not an object. And second, the thing I most desire? Do you mean the dragon-"
He clamped a hand over her mouth, glancing nervously to the Kull nearby.
Yes, the egg. He will give you the egg in return for your loyalty to him. And I don't think you understand- by purchase, I mean… Well…
She received a flash of images, brief and bright. Her, in a ceremony, with him. Not as an object, but as a wife.
Oh, no. Definitely not. I refuse. I can get the egg my own way.
But we need you! And you need the egg!
Atalanta wondered how he could get so whiney so fast- gone was the professional tone in his voice. She stepped back in disgust.
I don't even know you. Also, why me? There's like, five other Orc women over there. And, did you forget, you are Human?
Ren huffed angrily, nostrils flaring.
We need you specifically because of the Dragon eyes. You're the first one to be born in centuries, and your powers could prove to be formidable.
What powers? I have no powers. Also, I do not know you, so how would I marry you? It's ridiculous.
You were just fine marrying an Orc stranger, I might add, before the dragons showed up. And powers, you do have them. Wonder why the green dragon didn't kill you? Why the white was afraid of you?
He was afraid of you, Ren. Also, the green dragon didn't kill me because he was dying.
Wrong again. But I can't tell you anymore until you agree to be my wife. Don't look at me like I'm the bad guy, because this is coming from higher up than me. I don't like, want to keep you. I find you beautiful, yes, but we'd have powerful offspring.
Disgust flashed across her face- the idea of mating with a human had never crossed her mind until now. Yes, he was attractive, but could she trust him? She couldn't help but blame him for Elder's death- everything was going great until he showed up. Guilt stabbed at her conscience- these were the same thoughts they used to think about her ancestor, the original girl with the dragon eyes.
He was still watching her, awaiting her answer. She weighed her options carefully- she had no place to go. Saying no, she would be killed or sold. If she said yes, she would have to deal with Ren, but he was the closest thing she had to a friend, or ally. And he could lead her to her fate. Is this what Elder saw? Did she see a future with Ren?
Atalanta cleared her throat.
"Very well. I'll come with you, marry you, and swear loyalty to your leader, in return for the dragon egg."
His smile seemed to make the day seem brighter, and Atalanta wondered if this could really be all that bad.
"I'm not a rider in the sense you're thinking. Riders are bonded magically to their dragons. Bonded dragons and wild dragons don't tend to get along- wild dragons are far fiercer, while bonded dragons are smarter. Where I come from, we don't rely on magical bonds. We don't rely on magic, period."
"But what about that thing you guys did? The chains and the dropping me."
"Jira was the one who used magic, and she's a rider, the magical kind. I simply blocked the flow of magic between the two of you, therefore releasing you from bondage."
They had been walking for two days now- and her questions never seemed to end. The sun was beginning to rise, spilling it's blood across the sky in a display of color. Where it was once green, the land became red, and dry- they had entered the desert. When she asked for food or drink, he merely ignored her questions. "This is a cleansing." He'd remind her. "We will eat when we arrive."
"So how do you get wild dragons to obey you?" She asked, feeling silly. She had long left her fear of being exposed behind- after all, he was to be her husband, and he'd already seen all of her. She felt a mixture of excitement when his gaze lingered upon her, starting at her face and then traveling down her curves.
She had not an hourglass figure that was attributed to most Orcs, which is what usually made them desirable to men, Kull, orc, and elven alike, but she had some curves. Her breasts were small but her hips were wide, with thick thighs and a flat stomach. She felt gratitude to Elder's insistence of making her presentable, and it was almost as if she knew she'd be seen.
Ren smiled, a dimpled smile that made her smile in return.
"It's a partnership, not ownership. Once you reach of age, you can challenge the young dragons, one on one. You have no weapon, and they cannot rely on their fire or wings. If you manage to either drive them to the ground, or climb on their back without being devoured or mauled, you earn its respect. From then on, you become partners, and your bond will grow based on your experiences with each other."
Atalanta took this in, before asking another.
"Will I do this with the egg, once it hatches?"
He nodded, reaching out to stretch his arms above him. She noticed the muscles in his back tense and relax, and for the first time, realized how scarred he was. Silvery scars stretched across his arms, while pink, swollen ones traveled down his back. Across his chest was one, massive scar straight down, as if he had been sliced open.
"Atalanta, prepare yourself." He said shortly, and then closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed to express concentration. She looked around expectantly, and there was a flash of light above her, a flash of purple flame. When his eyes opened, they were full of joy, joy that Atalanta had not seen until now. A childlike excitement filled his features, and within seconds, a dragon landed, sending dust flying and cactus falling.
She wasn't as large as the white, but still large- Just a few feet taller than a horse. Nevertheless, she was stunning, a deep purple in hue, a long tail slapping against the ground. Her wings folded artistically across her back, and several white horns protruded from her brow, creating a sort of crown. Every scale was clean, shining, as if she spent a lot of time grooming herself, and a violet eye peered down at them both.
"This is Leonora. She's-"
I can speak for myself. I am Leanora, Dragon-of-a-thousand-stars. My sire was Firnen, my mother, Saphira Brightscales. What is your lineage, and what have you done to my rider?
Her voice was feminine and powerful, strong and unyielding.
"I've done nothing to him. He is unharmed."
Yes, but he doesn't smell like my rider. He smells like an Orc, and it's most annoying. He seems quite taken with you. You are attractive, for an Orc, but where are your wings? Where is your tail, and scales?
Leanora tilted her head, before gently picking up a protesting Ren in her jaws and dropping him on her back, between her spikes.
"Don't mind Leanora, she's not often this rude. I think she likes you. She hasn't eaten you yet, so that's a plus."
Please. Orc women have a stringy texture, like game. I don't like game.
And so began her life in a Dragon guild.
Flying was a breathtaking experience- literally. They flew at such high altitudes she found it harder to take in air, since it was so thin. And it was freezing. Not only this, but there was only room on the saddle for one, and Leanora wouldn't tolerate anybody but Ren on the saddle. This resulted in a trail of blood gushing down her legs, as the skin had been rubbed raw, and then entirely off, throughout the short duration of the flight.
"He has my respect, he has proven himself worthy of being on me. You are lucky you aren't flying in my claws, or walking, Atalanta. Don't complain." She said, though Atalanta had done no such thing. Ren had been unusually quiet throughout the flight, which was out of character, but she figured he was speaking with Leanora the whole time.
When she landed, liquid hot pain shot up her legs, making her vision darken. Instead of gracefully flying gently down, Leanora stopped a thousand feet up and fell, before landing in a crouch, making the ground crack beneath such force. Ren seemed unfazed, and when she questioned it, he replied,
Leanora, and many other wild dragons, tend to fall to the ground. They absorb the impact with their legs, which in time, strengthens them. Your dragon will do this too, in time.
Atalanta shuddered at the thought, sliding off the back of the dragon with a wince. When she touched the ground, her legs buckled, but she steadied herself against Leanora's side. Her scales were warm to the touch, a nice respite from the cold clouds that had been soaring in.
When she registered the land around her, she gasped- she had never seen such a place.
Beneath her feet was sand, something she had heard of, but never seen or felt for herself. A smile pulled at her lips at the gritty feeling between her toes. Before her was an infinite body of water, the color of Ren's hair- a blueish green. It roared to life, slamming against the shore and meeting her feet, kissing her skin, before receding.
Behind her was a score of trees, larger than she had ever seen- they were larger than even Leanora, larger than any building. Some of the highest trees stretched to the clouds.
In the distance, beyond the sea, was a mountain.
"What is- where-" She struggled to find the words to describe such a sight. Her breath seized in her chest. It was truly beautiful, it made her forget the pain in her legs, and her heart. She wished Elder could see it.
Ren smiled, turning to her with outstretched hands.
"This is the edge of Algaesia." He said, and there was the sound of thunder, a spray of water. Leanora lunged into the waves with strong strides, scales glittering with the ocean. The water droplets on her scales made her shine all the more, making her hard to look at. She bit at the waves with playful strikes, as if she were fighting the ocean.
Atalanta didn't wait- she too, ran into the water, sending sprays of salt in the air with every stride. The ocean roared around her, and she laughed, it sounded so alive.
Ren, not to be outdone, charged out into the water, whooping loudly, his deep voice resonating around them. For one split second, Atalanta was truly happy- everything was perfect. Ren was looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, the salt on her skin exfoliated her pores, and she glimmered and glowed.
"Having fun, are we?"
A voice asked, and Atalanta spun around, somewhat ashamed to be caught in the act of playing when she was far too old.
Before them was a dwarf, short in stature with a large beard, trailing between his legs. He wore a simple tunic, with dwarvish engraved upon it in grey against the brown leather. In his hands was a hammer. He had a strong, roman nose, brown eyes tilted down, giving him a sad expression, and his beard was the color of clouds.
Ren sucked in a breath and bowed, dropping to his knee before the dwarf. Leanora, who didn't seemed like the type to do so, did as well- bowing her head. Atalanta was the only one who remained standing at her full height.
"Commander Vertzogh. It's an honor."
The dwarf snorted, tugging on his beard with gloved hands. Atalanta wondered how a man in such short height could command so much attention and authority at will.
"Yes, yes it is." He said gruffly. His voice sounded like boulders crashing and colliding, deep and sharp. He looked Atalanta up and down slowly, judging.
"She doesn't look like much. Has she ever held a sword?"
Ren shrugged.
"A bow, an arrow? A knife? Is she competent with any sort of weapon? She doesn't look like a warrior. She looks like a house wife- all curve and no muscle."
Atalanta's eyes glinted red in rage, but she held her tongue. Leanora growled in response to his badgering's and insults, a bone-chilling snarl that echoed above the waves. Ren got to his feet.
"Leanora says that if you don't shut up and tell us why you're here, she'll cook you to a crisp and eat you whole."
Vertzogh cleared his throat.
"I wouldn't put it past her. Anyways, The Emperor summons you at once. I do suggest she finds some sort of clothing, as the empress is with him, and she doesn't take kindly to naked women in close proximity to him."
Atalanta flushed a deep green, while Ren barked out a laugh. The dwarf turned without another word and began to walk off with short, quick steps, before vanishing completely into the woods.
"How did you like him?" Ren asked teasingly, and Atalanta flashed her teeth in a grimace.
"The next time he speaks to me that way, I'm going to kick him across Algaesia."
Leanora let out a throaty chuckle.
I wouldn't put it past her.
"I'm sure you're very confused, Atalanta Dragon-Borne. Your village was caught between a war, and you suffered many casualties. All will be explained, I promise."
The Emperor was a tall, stooping man, with a skinny build. He had a mop of dark hair, rings under his eyes, and grey skin, like the color of rotting meat. His eyes glowed gold in the dim light of the castle. He sat with terrible posture upon his throne, a golden crown with rubies tilted upon his head.
At his side was a beautiful woman, a dark elf, with the same pigment of skin and golden eyes, but her hair was tied in a high ponytail. The black tresses fell down to the floor. She watched the conversation with a disdainful expression, and Atalanta did not miss the glimmer of the crown upon her cranium.
Ren wasn't at her side, and neither was Leanora. Leanora wasn't permitted to enter the chamber, and Ren wouldn't go without her. She noticed that something about mentioning the name of the king made their skin crawl, which unsettled her.
Atalanta looked searchingly around the room, nervously running her hands up and down her tunic. It was modestly cut, but the empress still continued to glare at her.
"Ah, I know. You're looking for the eggs. But first things first, introductions. I am the Emperor, supreme leader and commander of the Deijarden. Beside me is my wife, Wyverna. She is my second in command. She personally oversees the training of soldiers, while I oversee the dragons." The queen smiled coldly, and Atalanta dipped her head in respect.
"Now, let me tell you why I've brought you here, across the country. I need you, Atalanta. You have The Sight, and you have incredible potential. Several thousand years ago, the first Atalanta roamed the land. She had a kingly gift- the ability to control dragons. She wreaked havoc on everyone- she turned dragons against their own kind, their families, themselves. I have a theory, Atalanta. I believe that, in time, you can turn dragons against their own riders. Nobody would be able to resist you. These powers have been dormant in you, though you haven't used them. But they are awakening- I can tell."
"Now here is my offer. I will provide you with everything you could ever want, including a dragon. In return, you swear loyalty to me in the Ancient Language, and swear you will never use your powers against me in any way, shape, or form. You will become my prized jewel, and if you prove to be as valuable as you think, I will make you queen of queens."
The Elven queen glared at her with open hate at the sound of this, and Atalanta stared openly back.
"My wife here isn't too fond of the idea, but she has no say in the matter. And my, aren't you beautiful! I hope you stay that way for a long time. Hopefully you two get along, because she will be training you, along with Ren. I would, but I am a busy man, after all. Now, do you agree to my conditions? Keep in mind, if you don't, I'll have to kill you." He chuckled darkly, running a hand through his black hair. Atalanta realized he couldn't be over the age of 20, physically- he looked quite young for a king. A deep blush spread across her face- queen of queens. She'd have power. But she wasn't quite sure she wanted to rule the world.
The Emperor stared at her, awaiting her answer, and she took a deep breath.
"I agree to your terms, and swear to never use my powers against you in any way, shape of form. I swear fealty to you, Emperor."
And this she said in the Ancient language. The King smiled broadly, and clapped his hands.
"Now, Wyverna. Take this young woman to the egg chamber, so she may choose her fate." He winked at Atalanta, and the queen walked off silently, the trail of her red dress dragging against the floor. It was a beautiful dress, made of the finest of material, which gave her an hour-glass figure.
Atalanta followed, albeit a little angrily. She did nothing to deserve this woman's open rage, and she wished for a moment Ren was with her. He was the only friend she had in this entire place- no, the entire world.
They came to an end in the tunnel, and entered a circular chamber, hundreds of feet across. In the middle of the room was a pit of molten lava, churning and bubbling. There was no roof, and you could see the sky far above. All around were oblong shapes, what she assumed were eggs, of every color. Some were no bigger than her forearm, while others were larger than even her. However, there wasn't a pink one sight- the dragon's egg she had long sought, wasn't there.
Grief and rage filled her chest, and she heard footsteps beside her- the queen. Her hand swung back, arm outstretched, catching the queen in the face and throwing her back with her force. Atalanta spun around, eyes glittering with a cold hate, and she picked up the woman by the throat, holding her suspended over the lava pit.
"I have been deceived. Tell me where the egg is, or I drop you to your death."
Her voice came out cold, colder than she realized- this was a side of her she hadn't felt in years. Was all of this for naught?
The queen stared back at her defiantly, her face a mask, never betraying her emotions. Atalanta read no fear in her expression. Her crown slipped off her head and fell into the lava pit.
"I will tell you nothing."
Atalanta loosened her grip, and then-
Atalanta, calm yourself. The egg that you seek has hatched, is all.
The voice was Veren's, and she threw the queen across the pit to the other side, and she landed on the concrete. Atalanta looked up, to see an audience- several dragons peeked down at her from above, of many colors- some bigger than others. She could see a red, a gold, an orange, blue, a silver, a white, a bronze, and lastly, a purple. The younger ones wore a hostile expression, radiating disapproval. The larger ones, such as the silver and bronze, seemed amused. Leanora let out a rumbling laugh, before flying down gently so as not to disturb the eggs, and spread her wings. Ren sat on her saddle.
"You've made a lot of enemies just now. The queen is loved by the younger dragons, who have seen you threaten her. But you have also made friends- The larger dragons find your courage admirable."
Leanora poked her in the chest with her massive muzzle, eyes sparkling.
You will make a good rider. There's a dragoness waiting for you with the hatchlings. She tried to leave quite a few times in search of you, which is peculiar. She shouldn't even know you exist, as you haven't met. But she acts as if she knows you already.
Atalanta smiled, a bright smile that would break through the eyes of the blind, and without a word, she leapt upon Leanora with renewed energy. The pain in her legs made her gasp, but within seconds, they were off.
They flew above even the highest trees, before descending in a clearing- many thousands of feet wide and long. The grass was trampled flat, some scorched in places, but full nonetheless. In the clearing were four dragons- A light, light blue, the size of a pony, a golden, the size of a horse, a black, the size of a cat, and lastly, a pink- she was the largest of them all, but still tiny, compared to the green and white dragon she had seen days before. She looked up expectantly, glittering like the most precious stone, and let out a roar of delight. A swirl of emotions stormed between the two, memories shared, secrets exposed, hopes shared. Atalanta saw her flaws, her perfections, and her beauty.
ATALANTA! RIDER! She yelled mentally, bounding forward with the grace and speed of a cat. The yell was so loud, that birds flew from their trees, and the smaller dragons winced. Atalanta's chest seemed to expand with joy. Her whole demeanor changed- She bounded forward, and a smile pulled at her face. Her every limb moved with new energy.
"Dragon, my dragon." She choked out, tears streaming down her face. But it was clear what she meant, with her every movement and thought-
Hello, I love you, you are so beautiful, and no one in the world is as perfect as you.
Atalanta reached out, hands outstretched. The pink dragon reached down, nuzzling the orc, brushing against her tears, radiating approval and happiness. She hummed, a deep, vibrating noise, old as the world itself.