Chapter 21-A Challenge Brought

The fragrant scent of lilac and rose met past-Narssia as she descended from the air into the meadow, Ryta close by her side. Her son and the other grey dragon immediately took to the air, realizing the need to stay away as this was private between the two females. Unknown to her though, her future form landed off to the side to hear every word spoken without being seen, laying down in the deep gorge that seemed to have no end.

Ryta twitched and swatted at a passing fly with her tail before Narssia gave a soft growl and the younger dragoness turned her attention to her mother. Yes? She asked timidly, a tone not quite normal for the caring dragon she was.

Pay attention, Narssia growled, letting her gaze fall to the grass and flowers that brushed against her powerful claws. You wanted an answer so here we are, ask your question.

Tell me why Father was not the first! The brown hatchling squeaked, anger rising quickly into her voice. Why did you not come out with the information beforehand until revealing it now? Did Jormundur and Sitedal know of this?

Narssia was slow to answer, fearing she would say the wrong thing and insult her daughter. I wanted to tell you but-

Do not lie to me! Ryta screeched. Answer truthfully, mother.

A sigh escaped the black female. As you wish. I mated with one dragon prior to Raxmon, his name was Mirage . . .

The black dragoness that nether saw growled softly, noting the obvious lie in the choice of words. Rados from the future of their future had been the father, not Mirage as her past self claimed. She would not interject, nor show herself to either of them before the time was right.

So they know of the fact that their sire was a great and powerful dragon? Ryta inquired of the idea that Mirage was the father of her brothers.

To some extent. I have never fully outright told them the truth, Narssia confessed.

He must have died then. How?

Narssia stiffened as she walked over to the rim of the gorge where her future self lay listening in on the conversation between mother and daughter. The truth would deeply hurt her child, she had to make up an excuse for why he died. If the real reason came out then she would have to explain about her rider and . . .

Mother? Concern was thick within her words as Ryta grew worried over how Narssia had not answered her simple question.

Mirage died from a freak lighting storm. He was flying and, well, our bones have a faint metallic compound to them that enables us to take to the air being as we are so bulky. Anyway, lighting struck him at the tips of his horns, traveling down through his body as if he was one big electric circuit. I tried to save him but I could not given the damage he took from the nerve-frying jolt of raw electric power that tapped through his veins and, basically, short circuited his entire system. Being as damaged as he was, he died immediately, without having ever seen the eggs or witnessed them hatch.

Ryta trembled slightly as Narssia gazed down into the gorge. She had bended the truth some. There had been no lightning storm, no electric current to run through the dragon she had begun to love. He had been killed by an eccentric dragoness that got what she was due.

I am sorry for your loss, mother, the brown fledgling confessed as she joined Narssia near the edge.

The pain lessens with time, Narssia sighed, that much being true. Her heart still ached for Mirage but she had long since stopped mourning his death.

Would it be possible for a dragon to ever find its destined soul mate?

The question startled Narssia, both of them actually. Narssia of the future did not recall Ryta asking such an inquiry of her during their talk about Mirage. Past-Narssia was as equally stunned, not expecting such a question from her own daughter.

I suppose such is possible. What brought this on, my child?

Nothing, just thoughts that tend to go nowhere and run in circles, Ryta sighed as their eyes met and the black female noticed how much alike they truly were besides the connections through genes and traits.

Most female dragons never truly dream of such, Narssia of the future time interjected as she crawled up out of the gorge and stopped beside her past self who gazed in suspension. Relax, I will not endanger either of you although I have been listening in on the conversation since it began.

You listened in? This was private, between two dragons with powerful mental walls . . . Ryta broke off, confusion clouding her thoughts.

Past-Narssia glanced at herself before directing her attention to her child, a low growl springing into her throat. Leave us be, we are not-

I do not wish to cause trouble, Narssia growled softly, her tone quickly adapting the coarseness of Arxa's, but I do wish to ask a simple question of you both. Do you know who I am?

To the outsider, it might have seemed that Narssia had simply asked for a name but she wanted to assure herself that they had no clue of who she might be, nor know of who Jormundur was. That was simply her goal and she would achieve it one way or another. She would honor her promise to attack neither of them if they did what she asked, otherwise they were fair game.

You are not welcome here! The brutally of the presence of past-Arxa brought peace to Narssia but also unnerved her. So long had passed since the Orichalcos had laid claim to her, taken control over her. Could she even fight it off now? Defend herself against the darkness?

The pleasure is great, a dark corner of her mind whispered back and the dragoness snarled sharply, flaring her wings. Not now, not when things were looking good for Jormundur and herself! Arxa could not be returning, not this early!

I understand now who you are, past-Narssia admitted, snorting faintly, due to the darkness. I asked it to unlock who you truly were, given I recognized the similarities in our voice. The claws on her right taloned foreleg came together, digging through the grass. Come out with the truth or I will force it out of you.

You think you can force it from me? If you try then let Ryta save you because I will not break my promise to the grey dragon, to my very son. A fierce growl rose into Narssia's throat, baring the entire brutality of Arxa's own heart-pounding snarl.

I do not hide from a challenge, Narssia-of-the-past snapped back, guarding Ryta with her tail from the black dragon before her.

Ryta growled. What? I'm confused. Who is she, mother?

Narssia, both uttered at the same moment, eyes flickering with rage against the other.