Page 87 of Dragon Gods

“No,” she said, “it didn’t.”

He waited and she motioned to the body of an older man he didn’t quite recognize. The clothes were burned away, but the body was mostly intact. Mostly.

“The claw marks are too big for anything else. No human or shapeshifter did that.”

Fox didn’t know what to say. He heard the heartbreak in her voice and knew there were no words that would make it better. She’d spent cycles worshipping the dragons and within a few days, one had almost killed her and another had attacked an innocent village.

They were dangerous creatures, not gods to be prayed to. But she wasn’t ready to hear that.

And it did nothing to explain how an army of men who believed the dragons were extinct had received aid from one.

Another thought kept crossing his mind, just a little louder and more desperate. Had he not run away from the shapeshifters two days ago, he might have been here. He might be headed back to Suvi with the others at this very moment. Or perhaps he’d have ended up dead under the claws of a dragon.

Instead of saying anything, he filled their canteens and separated the food between the two leather packs she’d found. They were dirty, but in one piece. She’d already packed them with weapons.

Before he could tie both bags up, Sofia grabbed hers and carefully tucked the tattered feather into it. It didn’t quite fit, but she bent it gently until the entire thing was hidden within. The sun hadn’t even reached its zenith when they headed out, leaving behind the wreckage that had been their home for only two days. Fox couldn’t explain the sadness he felt in walking away. Another question to examinelater.

FOX

AGE 11

Over six hundred cycles after the first king was born, the Dragonborn had their last uprising. It was the final choked attempt of a dying race to push back the king’s progress. But within two decades the uprising was defeated and what remained of the resistance scuttled back into their holes. It was only after this time that the laws governing Dragonborn behaviors were put into place; the hand of the king forced.

-The Legacy of the Kings: A History of Wueco’s Creation by Francis Knoll

The sword was pressed into Fox’s neck, wood against skin.

“Take the kill,” his father said, voice hard and cruel.

“I defeated him,” Leon said, stepping back from where Fox was lying on the ground, shaking and sweating.

Between one blink and the next, their father moved, snatching the practice sword from Leon and cracking it across Fox’s face.

“Never hesitate!” he screamed, throwing the weapon at Leon’s feet.

Fox’s teeth shuddered and he tasted blood in his mouth.

“Father, he doesn’t need to train.”

“You need someone to fight against. You’re clearly not learning otherwise.”

“Ian and I train plenty together,” Leon said, trying again.

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Leon. Now, again!”

Fox stood on shaky legs, knowing it would only be worse if he refused. Their father had never been interested in Leon’s training before, but today, he’d dragged Fox from his chair in the library and sent Arik away with a barked order.

He and his brother had been sparring for two hours already and their father had no plans of them stopping.

“You fight him, or I do,” his father said when Leon still hesitated.

His brother picked up the practice blade again and they returned to their positions, Fox’s arms shaking. Leon swung and Fox parried, but even he could tell his brother’s swings were slower than normal. He was pulling his swings.

“Perhaps you both need some better motivation.”

Their father strode across the yard to the rack of weapons along the wall. A minute later, two long swords landed between him and Leon.

“Pick them up,” he said, voice cold.

---