Authors: T.A. White
Dragon-Ridden
Dragon-Ridden
By T.A. White
All
rights reserved
Table of Contents
It was cold. So cold. The kind that
sunk below the skin and dove straight for the bone. So deep she couldn’t even
shiver. There was no sense of self or place, just a vast dark nothingness. The
silence was so loud it practically screamed.
Ages passed, each moment the same
as before. In time, the tiny existence floating through the emptiness became
aware of a second presence. It curled itself around her like a shield—
unyielding. And silent. Sometimes she’d rail against its silence begging for a
word, a feeling, anything. Through it all, the presence was a beacon of light
that drew her like a moth to the flame. Sometimes it felt as if that light was
simply a shadow on her mind, created to keep her company as the long years
passed. Real or not, she watched its glow with the hunger of a woman starved
for thousands of years.
She couldn’t tell you her name,
what she was, or how she came to be. Her world revolved around that beacon of
light. It was a hypnotic and soothing distraction that flickered and danced in
the darkness just for her.
Time passed.
Pain ignited along her nerve
endings. Startling, after an eternity of nothingness. The ground reeled beneath
her as she shivered and convulsed. She prayed for the pain to end. An odd sort
of keening began, assaulting ears used to silence. And then there was the
thumping beat that was felt more than heard.
Her chest rose and fell. The
keening developed into a pattern, one that started and stopped in time to her
chests’ movements. The floor beneath her felt hard and unwelcoming. She shrank
from it, rejecting the alien sensation. Something stirred against her skin, a
gentle kiss of sensation. Air, her mind supplied, it was air.
Her nerve endings were alive with
sensation and spots danced across her closed eyelids. Her eyes opened slowly
and blinked rapidly against the encroaching light. She held up a hand against
the assault. Unable to see anything but a blur, she closed her eyes seeking the
relief of the previous dark. But the light was too much. It followed her. Even
with her eyes closed, it sunk below the lids and seared her retinas.
Gradually, though, her eyes
adjusted, and she stared curiously at the room she occupied. She was lying at
the bottom of a glass cylinder, one big enough to accommodate her curled up
body. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms hugging them close as she
hid her face against her knees.
On weak arms she pushed herself
upright and propped herself against the glass. The pants and thin shirt she
wore did nothing to provide warmth.
What was her name? She couldn’t
remember. She was a
somebody
. Surely. Her mind grasped desperately at a
word that might define her. After eons locked inside the emptiness, her mind
was slow to provide her information.
Name, she thought. Name. Name.
Name.
And then, slowly, a word drifted up
from the recesses of her mind. It was a short word, but it was hers
nonetheless. Tate, her name was Tate.
The breeze caressed Tate’s face and
arms, teasing several copper colored strands from its tight braid as she leaned
against the ship’s railing. It brought with it the salty smell of the ocean, a
smell she’d become familiar with over the last eight months she’d spent aboard
the Marauder. It was a comforting smell, one that invoked memories of being
rocked to sleep by the waves and sharing meals with friends.
She rubbed a finger over the
weathered wood of the railing and folded her arms over it. It was time to make
a decision. She grimaced and plopped her chin onto her folded arms. She’d spent
the last week lying awake at night, unable to sleep as she went over every
detail of her plan. Even now she didn’t know if she had the courage to leave
the ship at the next port or if she would choose the familiar and stay.
“What do you think?” a voice said
to her right.
Guilt made Tate jumpy, and she
tightened her grip on the rail as she straightened, not wanting her companion
to know where her thoughts had strayed. Instead she made a noncommittal sound
and hoped he’d move along.
“When I first saw the jewel of the
Aurelian Empire, I was in awe,” he said about the city, resting tanned forearms
beside hers on the rail. His tall figure dwarfed her considerably smaller one.
Standing straight, she still only came up to his shoulder. “It took awhile for
me to see that it wasn’t so different from other cities. There’re still
murders, double dealings and, luckily for me, work for men intent on skulking
about.”
“Is that so?” Tate said, keeping
her attention on the city coming into view.
The captain was right; it was a
magnificent view. The sun was just coming up and dawn gently cradled the city
in its arms, setting it alight with orange and pinks. A slim peninsula embraced
one side of the harbor forming a half crescent moon that was mirrored on the
other side by high cliffs. It allowed a strip of open water that ships could
pass through before deepening into the wide pool that formed the harbor. On one
side a tower stood sentry. Its purpose was to house the massive chain that was
strung across the harbor in times of siege and would protect the city from a
sea invasion. Framed by the tower and cliffs the city sprawled in a maze of
buildings and streets. A palace with its majestic towers and gleaming windows,
sat atop cliffs formed from a black rock that sparkled brilliantly in the
sunlight. It was an architectural wonder, the crowning piece of the city, and
people came from all over the empire to see it.
“First time in Aurelia?” he asked
lightly.
She kept her sigh to herself. It
figured that he’d want to chat right then. He hadn’t had much of a presence on
deck for the last few weeks, instead choosing to remain in his cabin and plan
the next job. Now when she was thinking mutinous thoughts, he popped up like a
bad luck charm. And leaving the ship would mean mutiny in his eyes. Since she
hadn’t exactly volunteered to get on his ship in the first place, she saw her
departure more as a continuation of her life’s journey. He, on the other hand,
would see it as a revolt. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave, quite the
opposite in fact. She loved the freedom of being on the open seas and seeing
the world one country’s port at a time. But it had been made abundantly clear
to her over the last few months that there was only so much weirdness a crew
could take, especially from a female. When members of the crew cornered her in
her bunk and told her to leave or else, Tate had gotten the message. Being a
female on an all-male crew was difficult enough. Add odd things happening when
she was around and the situation was impossible. She’d considered telling the
captain. He might have even come to her rescue, but she knew that his
involvement would only turn the rest of the men against her.
She was in danger if she stayed and
more if she didn’t. There was no doubt in her mind that the captain would hunt
her down if she left. She’d seen him do it before when a man jumped ship
without a word in her third month on ship. She still had nightmares about what
they’d done to him.
Tate faked a grin as she looked up
at the captain. A tall man, his face was tanned and showed his age in the
weathered lines around his eyes and mouth. Captain Jost’s brown eyes were
fastened on the city as the ship’s crew bustled around him, preparing to weigh
anchor.
“Not that I remember,” she said.
Jost stared at her with penetrating
eyes. He was a canny old seadog, unused to not knowing a person’s secrets.
Tate, however, still remained a mystery to him. He’d picked her up about eight
months ago wandering a strip of rocky shore not known for being settled by
humans, unable to speak any language he’d ever heard, and he’d heard a lot. She
claimed memory loss, her past before the ship a complete blank.
“That’s right,” he said softly as
if he’d forgotten. They both knew he hadn’t. The man’s mind was a steel trap.
Nothing escaped. “It’s amazing how fast you picked up our language,” he said,
changing the subject. “What language did you speak again?”
Used to his probing questions, Tate
ignored him. He often tested her, throwing out random questions that seemed
harmless but which were designed to catch her unawares.
His comment about her aptitude for
the language was true, though. She had picked the language up quickly. Almost
too quickly. Just another puzzle in her life. It was one of the many reasons
that some on the crew wanted her gone. They called her a witch, and a witch had
no place on a pirate crew.
“Is there something you needed,
Captain?” Tate asked, hoping to move him along.
“Just wanted to make sure you won’t
be going ashore alone.” One of his main rules for sailors was they were to have
a buddy when visiting a city. There were two reasons for this. One to make sure
the men had someone at their back in case of trouble. And two, it prevented
malcontents from just disappearing or turning crew into the authorities.
“Danny, Riply and Trent offered to
take me with them when they went ashore.”
“Good, good.” Jost seemed like he
was waiting for something. Tate waited awkwardly, unsure whether she was
dismissed or not. It felt odd to see the normally decisive captain acting
unsure.
“Is that all, Sir?” Tate asked. His
scrutiny was making her uncomfortable. It would be very easy to start acting
paranoid and give away all her carefully laid plans. A knot of fear and
uncertainty tightened in her chest the longer she was in his presence.
He seemed to come out of his
thoughts. “Yes, of course. You’re dismissed.”
Tate turned to go, exhaling with
relief until he called her back. Instantly she was on guard again, convinced
that he knew her plans. A small leather purse sailed through the air. She
caught it before it could hit her in the face.
“Tate, for your work these last few
months,” Jost said. “Thought you might be able to use some spending wages while
in Aurelia.”
More than he could know. The bag
felt heavy to Tate. She knew without looking that it was far more than her
usual shore allowance. It felt like all the extra wages she’d earned over the
months. She hadn’t dared ask for them, not wanting to alert anyone to her real
intentions before she’d even gotten started. Now that she had the money, there
was nothing she wanted more than to return it. Jost didn’t need another reason
to come after her when she was gone.
“A boat is ready, sir,” a sailor
said from behind them.
Jost held out his hand to Tate, and
she shook it. This was it. Goodbye. He’d never know how grateful she was to
have been forced onto his ship and made part of his family. No doubt if she
hadn’t met him, she’d be dead, killed by one of the monstrous beasts that
roamed the northern territories.
His calloused skin was rough
against her smaller hands. Though her hands had toughened over the months she’d
spent on the ship becoming blistered and cracked and eventually developing
calluses, they didn’t compare to a veteran sailor’s.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you when I
get back,” she said. Her lips stretched tight over her teeth, but the smile she
offered him was tense.
“Not if the boys take you to their
usual place. Most of the crew stays there while we’re in port.”
She nodded. It was good to know. If
she did this thing she was contemplating, she’d have to lose them in the city
or sneak out in the middle of the night while they slept.
Still, she could decide to stay.
Take her chances. She’d given the men who’d come for her more bruises and pain
than they gave her. They knew she wouldn’t be an easy mark if they came for her
again. But even as she thought it, she knew it wouldn’t work. They had the
advantage of numbers. Next time there would be more until there would be no way
she could fight them all. She’d never get a full night's sleep for fear of
attack.
No, it was better to leave. She
could control the risk better that way.