Prologue
On the eastern edge of the inland ocean, in the warm tidal pools sheltered from the worst of the waves by sturdy reefs, a crowd of juvenile Maren were at play. This was a treat, sneaking away from their strict elders down below and frolicking on the alien shoreline. They made a game of collecting strange artifacts that washed up on the beaches and imagining their uses—for instance, a twisted piece of dried-out driftwood resembled a fearsome warrior's spear, or the scratches on a stone might actually be an arcane language from a time long past. As they splashed about carelessly, the young sea folk were blissfully unaware of the fierce and predatory eyes watching them from on high.
A great shadow passing over the pools changed that. With a fearsome roar, a dragon plunged out of the sky, the force of her wings buffeting the Maren with a sharp wind and teasing the calm waters into a white-capped fury. Their mouths open with silent screams of fright, the Maren fled the shallows and swam as fast as their shining fins could carry them back to their home in the Tidelord's realm.
Satisfied, the Skydancer alighted on the rim of one pool, beside a pile of the Maren's useless junk. She rifled through it with her snout for anything of interest—and recoiled when she touched something slimy, slippery, and exceedingly foul. And the smell (oh, by the Eleven, the smell) might have made a weaker dragon heave. Setta, however, was not a weak dragon. Growling low in her throat, she shifted bits of seaweed and refuse aside until she found what had offended her nose so badly.
It looked like an egg, round and green and rotten. Rolling it over with one claw, she saw that despite all her sense telling her the contrary, it hadn't actually gone bad. Beneath its translucent surface she could see a mass pulsing and wiggling with life.
It certainly wasn't like any egg Setta had ever seen before. Her first instinct was to throw it back into the ocean where the Maren had undoubtedly found it. But where had it come from? Had they stolen it? Setta's opinions of the Beastclans were not exactly favorable. It was the Maren, after all, who had destroyed her own nest and its precious clutch of eggs during one of their senseless raids some weeks before. The colony of dragons that made their home on this edge of the inland sea had turned them back, of course, but at a terrible cost. After several more moments' consideration, Setta took the strange egg gently in her mouth and flew away.
The other dragons of her lair, an even mix of graceful Skydancers and haughty Pearlcatchers, watched from their sunny spots on a small rocky island as she returned. Her nearest denmates sniffed the ocean-borne breeze as it carried her scent and the scent of her find over to them. Shocked by the stench, several dragons squawked indignantly. A few skydancers spontaneously molted their feathers. And all of the newborn hatchlings, confused and terrified by the pungent reek of death and despair, began to cry.
Setta pretended not to notice all of their distress as she settled the putrid egg down in the stone circle that she had carved out as a labor of love with her own sharp claws. The leader of the lair, however, wasted no time in making it known that she did not approve of their latest arrival.
"Setta, what. Is. That." Aria was a Pearlcatcher half Setta's size with an astronomical attitude. As always, she clutched a pearl in her front claws as she waddled over to investigate. She didn't get too close, of course, speaking nasally as she tried not to breathe in too deeply. "I know you're upset about your nest but I hardly think gathering spoiled—"
"It's not spoiled, it's perfectly alive," Setta said sharply. She sat with her tail curled about the nest protectively and began to preen. "I don't see what all the fuss is about."
"Whatever it is, it stinks," Aria's lips curled and she bared her fangs. "Get rid of it."
Setta clicked her jaws testily. "No."
The Pearlcatcher looked taken aback. Her long whiskers twitched as she inhaled (fighting the urge to gag) and prepared to unleash an authoritative tirade on the virtues of putting the Lair before the Self. However, before she could begin, there was a horrific ripping sound, and the severity of the smell instantly doubled. Setta looked down, alarmed, as the egg she had found burst open like a rotting corpse.
From out of the green slime emerged a creature quite unlike either of them had ever seen. With a dark grey body alternately striped and spotted, his face had pale markings that resembled an ominous skull. On his back were sopping-wet wings and on his feet were cruelly curved claws. But what alarmed Aria the most were his eyes, vibrantly red, blinking up at Setta curiously. Apparently unperturbed by his own noxious odor, the hatchling opened his mouth and let out a pitiful wail of hunger.
"Plague dragon!" Aria shrieked, backing up rapidly and flapping her wings to maintain balance. She hugged her pearl for dear life. Around them, the other dragons of their clan heard the outcry and began to panic, snatching up their young and retreating to the far side of the island. But Setta hunched over him protectively, daring Aria to try and get rid of him now.
The two dragons faced off, both fiercely protective of what they considered theirs. The hatchling cowered between Setta's legs, too ignorant to know that the first few minutes of his life were terribly inauspicious. Aria, however, understood what his presence would mean for the dragons under her care and wanted him gone. She snarled and snapped until at last Setta drew back, exposing the hatchling to her lair leader's critical gaze.
Aria thought carefully. She would not cull a newborn, even if it was a native of that sick land across the sea. She might order Setta to abandon it in the wilds, where it would not survive long but at least would not bring strife to their roost. But before she could make her decision, Setta snatched the little one in her claws and leapt from the rock. Her powerful wings lifted them both high into the air, and Aria continued to growl even until the pair was well out of sight. As the clan settled down again, she nervously pushed the squishy, squicky leftovers of the egg off the rock and into the water where it would be washed away with the tide. Bile rose in her throat but she managed to keep it down. Returning to her nest, and her own trio of hungry hatchlings, she considered coughing up the memory and depositing it on her pearl—but eventually decided against it. With any luck, Setta and her freakish little foundling would never return and they could put this whole incident behind them.
She hoped.
