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Wake Up Call
The summer had been hot. Sharona spent her time in the shade, or even up in the highest, darkest rooms of the Tower with Oberon. She took baths in the heat of the day, which was fine with Daddy, who hated the heat and spent most of the summer underground. Daddy, on the other hand, made himself useful with the sailors or with Good Lady Nabel in rearing what Daddy referred to as 'the most insufferable brats he every lay eyes on'.
Sharona wondered if she had been an 'insufferable brat.' She couldn't remember too well, considering most of the time, her mind swam with stories and adventures and languages and the like.
She had gotten much bigger over the heat of the summer. The stairs had become much easier to traverse, and she became faster at hurrying here, hurrying there.
Not that she ever had to hurry anywhere.
Summer reached its hottest time, and Sharona took to spending time staring up at the huge tree outside the Tower. It was an old, ancient tree, scarred here and there in the trunk. But she knew it was the only one on all the islands of its age. No other island had a tree so large, so old. But they were supposed to be all the same.
Not quite, she reminded herself. Xylon had found ruins on at least one island. Had there been people here at one time? Civilization, perhaps? Or was this more of the perfect random that seemed to permeate and leak all over the islands?
She thought about things like this often. However, it was more frequently in the terms of 'What story does this have to tell?'
Daddy and Grandma teased her that she should have been a white, but only until she reared Daddy's temper. And everyone who saw her told her she was obviously from Gunnhild's line. Surely she would be a strong warrior when she grew up.
Sharona hated it. She couldn't wait until she was a sharpe. Then, then she could move more freely around the areas of the islands. Then she could find a way to get money to pay for passage to somewhere far away. Far away from everyone, to see the world for herself.
Most bishels saw the world with their bondmates, some making massive journeys to vistas far removed from the plains of their homelands, or something! Anything!
Sharona ached for that kind of adventure.
Deep inside, she knew she had matured. She no longer felt the same childish need to make her own adventures and pretend. She itched for the opportunity to change, however, whenever that would happen.
For so much of her family, the change had happened instantaneously, practically. For her, it seemed to drag all summer long, until she was too big for her baths, too big for the bed she slept in, too big to be easily picked up and flown somewhere by Daddy, even though Daddy could still lift her every now and again.
A cold rain fell on the islands, finally breaking the heat. Sharona hated the cold more than she hated the heat. She became very clipped in temperment, and she feared she developed a rash in four places along her body.
She bit at them harshly, flaking off translucent and tiny red scales everywhere. For a week this continued, Sharona rubbing the spots against anything that stood still long enough.
She woke up after eight days like that. Suddenly, she couldn't sleep. Suddenly, the crickets were too loud, too insufferable. There was only one thing to do. She had to go yell at them.
Okay, so logic got a little clouded when awoken in the middle of the night. So what?
She slithered out the front door, her itchy patches not burning as they had all week, just aching. She slid into the moonlight, finding the crickets suddenly very silent. She glared at them. Stupid crickets.
She found herself much too tired, suddenly, to climb up the Tower again. She sighed, closed her eyes, and then doubled over with a confused squeak. It felt like all the summer's heat was coursing through her spots where she'd been scratching at them.
She squeaked again, felt something move under her skin, felt her scales peel open. It wasn't a bad thing, something in the back of her head knew. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't bad.
She let herself sleep it off.
***
That morning, she heard shuffling, like someone was trying very hard to be quiet around her. That generally meant someone was trying to hide something from her. She opened an eye, always waking more readily to people being quiet than to people yelling.
"Sorry t' be disturbin' y' , dragon," a familiar brogue told her, and a few sheepish scuttlings of feet were audible before wingbeats took off through the air.
Sharona sat upright. That was Anacleto. She knew it was. She knew it had to have been. But he would have recognized her. Wouldn't he?
She looked down at herself. She felt much bigger than she had last night. And, she -- LEGS!!
She stared. Four legs, just like Daddy! And at the tips ... talons, just like Daddy!
This meant... She was a shrape! WOOHOO! She tried to get up, jump for joy, but she fell on her face. Too giddy to care, she pulled herself up, tried again. And again. And again. And again.
She heard wingbeats and saw Clet and Rudie and Daddy. "See?" Clet asked. "There's a new dragon!"
Daddy fixed them both with a stern look. *Did you bother to plug in your brains this morning?* he wanted to know.
The two angecur gave him an odd look.
*Daddy!* Sharona chirpped. *Daddy! I have legs! I'm a shrape now!*
Daddy gave her a warm look. *Yes,* he said noncommitally. *I'm so proud.* He didn't look proud. He looked sad. He looked worried. He jerked his head to one side, as if hearing something. He gave a long-suffering sigh, obviously weighing something very important. Finally, he said, *This isn't a very good time to share your happiness, I'm afraid, Sharona. Tor seems to be having troubles today. I'll share my felicitations later. I promise.* He gave her a tender nuzzle and then took off in the direction of the Tower.
Something wrong with Tor?
She watched Daddy go. Tor never seemed worried, or in any sort of troubles. But... But Daddy had looked very worried, more so than when Daddy had shown him just what he felt about some important document he had been translating.
Sharona felt a cold pit in her stomach, and Rudie and Clet tried to make her feel better, to get her joking. She pushed passed them, raced into the Tower.
She didn't know Tor's story. Daddy told her nothing. Tor had always said that he came from a different place, a different time, and that he wasn't always as superficial as he seemed. Sharona took this to mean he had lived a boring life. Now she got the feeling that it had been a very polite 'none of your business.'
She hurried up the stairs of the promenade, and then again up the next flight of stairs. Tor's room was still here, even if he was in the process of moving to be closer to Sandry. It was Ira's room when Tor wasn't there. Sharona had grown to know it well, from the red and black drapes to the heavy incense smell of it.
She hurried toward it, feeling something not right, remembering the look on Daddy's face.
"Let me out, dragon," a Voice snarled. It sounded like Tor, but ... but... something was very wrong. It sounded ... crueller. Darker. More sibillant.
*Let him go,* she heard Daddy hiss.
Sharona peeked around the doorframe. She heard something pop, the crackling of sparks. She nosed the red curtain away to peek in. Tor's hand was frozen in a claw-like form, bright sparks striking off it to the ground. Daddy was between him and the door, wings spread, and actually growling.
Sharona hadn't known Daddy could growl. Even when fighting with Daddy, Daddy was always silent, practically clinical. She stared, wanting to help, but not sure what to do.
That was Tor!
She couldn't sotp him in any ways, not any she had. She would hurt him. And she couldn't call out to Daddy, or something might happen. All she could do was watch or leave.
She decided to watch. Just in case things turned out badly for Daddy.
Tor took a step forward, and Daddy whipped his knife-studded tail at his leg. He hissed again, narrowing his eyes.
*Let him go,* Daddy said again.
"I should kill you," Tor told him.
*I'm the only thing keeping Kip from dealing with you how he wants,* Daddy replied coldly.
Tor lunged at Daddy, smiling. Daddy lept into the air, but Tor was tall. He grabbed Daddy's tail, which wrapped around his arm. Daddy bent over, bit Tor hard on the shoulder.
Without his blue coat, Tor's shoulder welled up a bright red blossom around Daddy's sharp teeth. Tor laughed.
"You think that will stop me?" he asked, his smile positively vicious.
The sparks poped off Tor's hand, right into Daddy's tail. Daddy said nothing, and his wings flapped about viciously in the room.
This was it! This was when Daddy needed her! She coiled her legs, ready to spring. She was just about to leap into the room, when she felt a smal drain on her body.
*Sharona!* Daddy snarled, rushing down the hall. Löwenherzchen ran ahead. *Get downstairs!*
Sharona stared hopelessly between Daddy and Daddy. She looked to Löwen, but it wasn't looking at her. It was looking at Tor.
Daddy surged into the room, skidding on his talons, the Negatius Fragment around his neck. He roared at Tor, and Sharona felt weak, almost tired. Daddy's and Tor's grips on each other failed, and Daddy finally fell limp to the ground.
Daddy stood over Tor, who was pushing his hands against his ears, crying. He didn't look at anyone, only very quietly said things that Sharona didn't understand for their language.
Daddy turned back to her. *Downstairs.* He nuzzled Daddy quietly, sadly.
Sharona felt sick with fear. She took a shuddering breath, a shaking step on unsteady paws.
Tor and Daddy were... supposed to be the best of friends. That's what bondmates were, right? That's what they did, right? They were nice to each other, and they loved each other.
But that... That was spitting hatred. Tor had mentioned killing Daddy! But Tor was so nice, always smiling, with a song, always a song!
But this...
She went downstairs, lay down around Daddy's books. What if something happened to him? She closed her eyes, worry and fear and confusion making her shake in a way she never had before.
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