AabiLynn's Dragon Rite #0 Dragon's Brood: Egg Hatchlings' Ritual- Prequel, Page 3

  Chapter Two

  Journey To Firedrake

  Seven years later...

  Darkness covered the land like a blanket of nighttime fancy, and the smell of horses and leather permeated the air as Cara held on to the back of her adopted father's waist. She leaned the side of her head against Bork's strong back as they rode on his horse. He was warm and comforting against the cool air. Cara was still sleepy as they had rose hours before she normally did, so they could take this important trek. Sleep and dreams lingered with her as night and a young girl's fantasy remained a few moments more.

  They left the plains with three other riders, heading for a great destination. All was grand in Cara's world. She had people who cared for her and a special place she belonged. She couldn't ask for anything more.

  Bork steered his horse up a hill, and she held on tightly so not to fall off on the incline. The moon had long since gone, and the land waited for the sun to make its appearance. Cara glanced back at the three riders following them. One of the boys was Bork's son, Turk, the brother she never had. Thatchman's sons had mostly ignored her existence, but not Turk. He always noticed her, always knew where she was. Here with Bork and his family, she had found a place to belong, a place where she was needed and cared for.

  Twilight broke at their backs as a red-orange light burned across the grasslands. A horse neighed, and a few flying birds greeted the morning, and all was grand in Cara's world. She had people who cared for her and a special place she belonged.

  She squeezed Bork's waist as if giving him a hug, then turned her head so she could view the lands on their right side as they sped by. She overheard Bork speaking to the boys before they left his hut that the place they were going was important and they had to do well or was it, it was important that they do well at the place they were going?

  A golden wren flew overhead, and Cara turned her head to follow the beautiful bird in its flight as it sparkled in sunlight. She thought when it came time for her to select a totem animal as those in Bork's family had, that she might pick the golden wren. It was free to go where it willed, but the females still had a family they returned to and cared for. The time of naming a totem animal was also the time she was given new clothes like the leather the riders wore. She was ready to burn her dingy tunic in a fire. She had seen other children use the fire to burn their old clothes when they came of age. At that time, she could...

  Cara caught a glimpse of Turk eyeing her, and she sleepily and bashfully hid her face in Bork's back. She smiled, knowing Turk was with them too, and it warmed her heart to know Turk was thinking about her. Cara adored him as an older brother.

  She turned her head and looked again to the left side as they rode on. The plains were so much different than the lands around the farm she once called home. An incidental tear trickled down her cheek as day started to breakup the dreams night allowed, and she quickly wiped it away before anyone saw. She was to never speak unless spoken to, and she was never to cry. Those were the rules ingrained into her since arriving at Bork's hut, and Bork's wife was the one who fiercely taught her. The rising sun finished burning the sky, and the blueness of the day appeared over them. With night gone, so were dreams and a young girl's fantasy. Cara would have to face reality until the sun set again, and she was able to close her eyes.

  All was grand in Cara's world, but it all vanished back into her mind. She had people who cared for her and a special place she belonged, but those ideas and sentiments were only in her head. She, after all, was only a slave, someone they would sometimes refer to as a breeder. Cara was more alone with Bork and his son than she had ever been with her father, her brothers, and Hellen. She had no rights as a human, no one she could emotionally depend on, and though she had a place she belonged, she wasn't loved.

  The riders moved on as did the morning, and the harsh reality of her existence smacked her again like one of the slaps Bork's wife would frequently give her. This was the world Cara lived in, but not the one she wanted to linger in. The time she spent in her perfect world was far too short.

  She was barefoot and wore a sackcloth tunic, and no totem animal decorated any part of her clothing. Cara was an object to own and order about and nothing more. She thought of Bork as her adopted father, but the only thing he adopted was a harsh tone and leering eyes that seemed to want something from her. Turk was still the brother she never had, for he wasn't either a brother to her or a friend but a constant tormentor. This was the reality of Cara's life, a reality she wished was a nightmare and the imaginary world she envisioned was the real one. There had to be more in this world than pain and hardship. Those would be bearable if she had joy and love, but without joy and love, pain and hardship were becoming more intolerable with each grim day.

  Days later...

  “I am not afraid of any dung smelling warlock,” Barman said as he rode on horseback along with his two friends. He wore a brown leather vest over his young bare chest. He also wore leather pants and boots. A silver plains horse decorated the back of his vest and his long black hair was held back out of his eyes with a leather band that also had the same silver plains horse decorating the front of it. The others wore similar attire, but a different totem animal decorated their clothing.

  The Northern Grass Plains Tribe were led by chieftains, and Bork was chief of chieftains.

  “Are you sure about that?” Turk questioned. He was the oldest of the three boys. He was sixteen and they were fifteen. A gold grass tiger adorned the back of his black vest and band. His hair was blond and flowed down his back. Turk said, “You have heard of the leviathan that those of the Stygian Legion rides. Do not tell me you are not afraid to face one of those malicious beasts. I know better. I have seen you face a hairless wolf pup when one happened upon our path. You nearly soiled yourself before you ran away from it. I laughed so hard as I watched the pup chase you, that I nearly soiled myself.”

  “You cannot judge me for that,” Barman insisted. “I was five at the time, had no weapon, and the pup was very hungry.”

  “I know,” Turk chuckled. “It gnawed on my hand the whole way back to my hut.”

  “Whatever happened to it?” Barman questioned.

  “I traded it for a dagger with one of my neighbors,” Turk replied.

  The riders had left the boundary of their home of the Northern Grass Plains days ago, and they had entered the Forest of Pinus. Less than an hour ago, they had left the Forest of Pinus and entered Wyvern the Dragonlands. They had not seen a tree or shrub since doing so. They rode through a red and orange canyon as the sun broke at their backs. The third friend, Cyan, nudged his mare to catch up to the other two boys and the mare whinnied. He wore light brown leather with a silver grass hawk as his totem animal. Ahead of them rode Bork with Cara as his passenger. His father was a large muscular man, and Turk was a slightly smaller version of him. Bork also led their pack horse.

  “If I had a dragon under me, I would not be afraid to face a warlock or his leviathan,” Barman insisted as he glanced back at the broadsword safely tucked in his bedroll. “I have my steel and the dragon its claws and magic.”

  “We are talking about leviathans,” Turk said. “They are huge. I heard as big as a tower. Their hide is as black as the darkest pit and they can swallow...” He looked to Cara and then he continued, “They can swallow a girl whole.”

  Cara glanced back at the comment, but she said nothing at his teasing. She did look frightened as if his tale planted a deep rooting seed of fear within her.

  Bork glanced back as the sun burned the horizon and he barked, “We are late. Let us pick up the pace.” He kicked his horse, and it galloped off. Bork's leather was ashen in color, and it was marked by a totem of a great white grizzly bear.

  Turk and his friends followed closely behind Bork. The canyon path started to narrow, and the horses moved and formed a single file. Turk followed his father's pack horse, Barman him, and Cyan br
ought up the rear. Turk removed a bota filled with water and took a drink. He was hot and noticed he wasn't sweating. The dry air of the region consumed any moister. Turk already missed his home and the cool breezes that would greet him of a morning. Here, the wind was harsh and filled with sand.

  “Are you saying you would not be in the least bit afraid to face a leviathan?” Turk continued questioning his friend. “You know they bare their teeth right before they gobble you up. I believe they call it death's smile.”

  She glanced back at him again. Her light blue eyes looked a little more frightened. She noticed he saw her glance, and she bowed her head and turned back around. The trip so far had been long, and Cara wasn't used to riding on a horse. Her backend hurt, and she prayed for the trip to end.

  The path through the canyon veered, and the sun moved to the left of them. The wind continued to harass them and the sun beat down on them. Shade was a welcomed and yet fleeting friend.

  “Why do you keep asking me about the leviathans?” Barman questioned, then he stared at her, and he asked, “Or are you trying to get a fear-filled response from someone else?” He noticed Turk's reaction to his inquiry and Barman stated, “You are.” He chuckled and said, “You do like to be a tyrant even when