A Fifth Daughter [Book 1: The Dragon Rider]

Day two of Dragonmage and it’s about as gloomy as yesterday as we trudge through the thick mud the rain left for us. Filly gives out a great, big yawn as the morning sun tries to dry the ground on our way to The Arena. Eaton and Mandy walk in front of us exchanging words in joke like some people might arrows or fists. When around those two it’s like Filly and I are by ourselves. Not that we mind. If any stranger were to look at us they’d think we’d been friends long before starting school yesterday – or meeting for the first time the day before.

“What exactly does mia fenghi mean?” I ask, biting into the apple I saved from breakfast. It’s been a little thought nagging me lately. She’s used it a few times since yesterday. She says it like ‘ma fun guy’ but I can’t seem to roll the right letters for that combination to work out.

Her little sly smirk tells me of how bad it must have sounded tumbling over my tongue. “Little one.”

I frown. “How exactly is that associated with you?”

She sighs and kicks a rock. It bounces and rolls and finally rests. “Because of my linage – half human, half Elf – I’m considered the runt of the tribe, even with my royal upbringing.”

I blink a couple times. Royal upbringing? Instead of asking, I move to the next word she likes to say. “And cal’in?” Which sounds exactly as it’s spelled.

She huffs a little laugh. “It’s a word without meaning. Basically it’s a child’s “bad word.” Instead of ‘crap’ or ‘shoot’ like you like to say in place of choice words, we learned cal’in. It can mean anything in the negative since but isn’t insulting because it doesn’t have a true translation.”

“That’s… very interesting.”

She shrugs. “Different cultures have different sayings. Even among Elven tribes there are words similar and completely different. Honestly I wish everyone knew one language. It’d make life so much easier.” There’s a pause and then she completely changes the subject. “You’ve given me a nickname, what’s yours?”

I stiffen. The word Miracle resounds through my head in a baritone voice with the hint of humor. I shrug to hide my reaction. “I don’t really have one. My brothers have teasing names for me, but nothing ever really stuck.”

“Well, what’d they call you?”

I smirk. “Chase has called me Oak for as long as I can remember, and when Ry was younger he misheard it and renamed me Coke.”

Filly nearly smiles and it has the hint of fondness. “Must be nice to have such loving brothers.”

I smile at the pleasant memories I have of home and of my brother’s affection. “Yeah, it’s nice knowing they have my back, no matter how annoying they can be.” I nearly laugh as I remember being thrown over Chase’s shoulder and him ignoring my protests and elbows into his back.

Filly looks sad for a half a moment when I come back to the present. “I won’t steal their names, so I’ll have to think of a new one.”

I nod.

A huge circular building made completely of stone arches and columns that take to the sky like the skyscrapers of Myth, comes into view. It can only be The Arena. The many wooden doors are open and the sloshy ground underneath us becomes hard stone; the heels of our boots slipping as the mud slowly swipes off.

“Wow.” Filly says, spinning in a slow circle and gazing at the ceiling where curved stone crisscrosses its way up. “Is this an Original?”

“Yep.” Eaton answers. Mandy continues on down the passageway having found someone else to nag. “Historians believe that’s the only reason it’s still standing. Although we all know it’s from Legend’s magic.”

Original structures are buildings, or parts of buildings, that are from the First Age of Grimm, when the world was written into existence and the Brothers spun their story aloud. There aren’t many left so Filly’s excitement is understood and shared as I gaze about in wonder. It’s the first time I’ve stepped into a building so old, I can practically feel the history behind it in the strong columns and engraved stone floor.

Eaton chuckles. “Come on you two, you’ll miss the lesson.”

We follow, but I’m still stuck in a slight daze as I glance about.

Soon the echoing stone under our boots falls away and dry, swift dirt causes the ground to become powdery. Wooden planks make up the walls of the sandy arena and above those walls are circling tiered metal seats. Across from the hall we’ve exited, up above the seats is an announcement box and standing on the roof are two figures. One is obviously a statute as its position of charging with its mouth open in a roar of rage, its sword waiting to strike its enemy would be a very uncomfortable to stay in for more than a few seconds. Besides, unlike the second figure, that statue’s cape is still in a billowing motion around him.

The second figure up there is a woman and she is definitely real as she steps back and with a great boost jumps off the roof to begin her fast descent into the seats below. But before she crashes into them, her cape flares out and then she’s gliding down toward us; bypassing the seats, the wall and landing in the soft sand.

I can hear Eaton chuckling, and it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s laughing at the shocked faces of us Acolytes.

“Roxanne, always with the grand openings!” Eaton calls.

Roxanne is the name of our combat trainer, and from the way she smiles, I’d say the woman that just landed is her. But I’m too stuck in an awe-filled void to really comprehend that that should have been obvious. But… seriously, wings? Her cape isn’t a cape at all; it’s a pair of wings. They point out of her shoulders as she relaxes them back and brush her ankles with deep browns and rich reds mixed in with the darkest of blacks.

“You know me too well.” Roxanne says stopping in front of Eaton. She towers over us by at least six inches – and that just states how long her wings are. Roxanne grapples Eaton around the neck and rubs roughly against his head with her knuckles. “I missed you, mutt. How was your summer?”

“Hot.” He replies, shoving her off with a mock-scowl.

“I thought you went to Echo Island so that you wouldn’t get hot.”

His scowl deepens. “Summer is still the hottest season of the year no matter where in Fantasy you are.”

She shrugs and glances toward me, then Filly. “Hi. I’m Roxanne, call me Ro and we’ll get along just fine.”

“Smoke.” I answer, shaking her hand.

“Filly.”

“Nice to meet you.” She bumps Eaton’s shoulder with a wing. “Where’s Astro, I thought she was coming.”

Astro? I frown.

Eaton glares. “Astrid,” he emphasis, “hates you calling her that.”

“Not that she can hear it.” Ro mutters.

He shakes his head, trying to not smile. “She’ll be here next month.”

“Good, I’ve missed her ability to show me up.”

“Don’t you have class to teach?” Eaton deadpans, pointedly glancing at everyone staring at us.

Ro looks around like she just realized we aren’t the only four in The Arena. “Oh, look at that. I do.” She smiles at me and Filly, ruffles Eaton’s hair, and then turns to meet everyone in the arena.

I turn to Eaton. “That’s not the first time someone has called you mutt. What’s the meaning?”

He shrugs, but gives me a sheepish smile that I see through. He’s about to lie to me. “It’s been my nickname for a really long time, even before I came here. Mandy has always called me that and Ro picked it up. She likes nicknames.”

Ro finishes introducing herself and begins to actually teach her lesson. “Alright, all Acolytes grab a wooden sword and shield and I’ll pair you up with someone not an Acolyte, then we’ll begin.” She walks to a wall and presses against a knot in the plank. It spins open with a groan and all types of shiny, steel swords and shields; enough to arm a small army and raid a village, blink at us under the morning sun.

“Whoops, wrong wall.” Ro spins the wall back into place and presses another plank further down. This one has wooden broadswords and metal rimmed shields with extravagant designs covering the faces. “Now, once everyone’s ready we can really begin.”

Okay, I admit it, I don’t like swords. They’re too heavy and, wooden or not, they hurt. I was paired up with a Vampire and even though she’s going easy, I’m still failing drastically. The nicks on my wrists, arms, and legs are red marks that glare at me to prove my point. She’s cut my forearm enough for it to bleed. And then there are the shields. Big, round, blundering things that are completely useless if you don’t have the arm strength to wield them, and I don’t.

I finally drop the shield and she raises an eyebrow. “Giving up?”

“Ha… in your dreams.” Even though she’s already whooped me hundreds of times and I haven’t even given her a good mark, a strong stubbornness has grabbed me and I’m slowly fueling it every time I get hit.

“Alright, but don’t complain to me, or Headmaster Alex, in the morning when you’re too sore to walk.” She swings the wooden dirk toward my legs to emphasis her point, but without the heavy, over-barring shield I’m finally able to move and I take a big jump back. The sword misses me completely.

“You were saying?”

She chuckles and drops her own shield – not that she was doing anything with it. She twirls her sword once and then as she moves to the right I move with her, until we’ve created a circle out of our footprints. Our little ring allows us to touch blades and she takes the first move. Wood cracks against wood as her sword slides down the edge of my own. She tries to tip the hilt, but a quick thrust toward her offsets the sword’s movements and we’re back to where we started.

I know from reading Esston Hays’ book on Fifth Daughters that we excel in archery but not so much in hand-to-hand combat or fencing. I also know that Vampires instantly know how to handle a sword from the moment they can pick one up – no training needed – which puts me at a huge disadvantage. I have no training – other than the introduction course Ro gave an hour ago – and I already know that my race isn’t made for this type of combat, but somehow that knowledge doesn’t deter me and my thrusts and pars are coming from nowhere and are entirely instinctual.

But she still has the upper hand in training and with help from her Vampiric abilities she finally gets the jump on me. My sword goes flying and the point of hers finds my neck.

There’s a gleam in her blue eyes when I finally calm down and look at her. It’s a gleam of pleasure.

Clapping begins around us and I realize that we are encircled by all of the students and Ro, and they’re all smiling and applauding. Someone even shouts out: “Encore.”

“Nice job, Smoke Green.” Ro says, coming forward. “I think you just beat the record of longest contestant to stand against Mira.”

“Yeah, she did well for her first time,” My opponent, Mira says. She smiles.

“Not so bad yourself.” I comment.

Mira laughs, and takes a bow: A sign that she found me worthy to fight again (I do know that much about fencing). I bow my head in response.

“Okay,” Ro says, calling everyone’s attention. “Since Mira and Smoke decided to gather everyone’s attention, no one but them has been training. So, back to work kiddies, I don’t get paid to do tournaments every day.” Everyone grumbles but slowly they peel off and begin fighting their own partners again. “Thanks for the show you two, now get out of here. Smoke you need to get that cut checked out, we don’t keep these swords very clean, so there’s no telling how infected that’ll get.”

I glance at the slice along my arm, now that I’ve acknowledge the pain, it stings. “Alright, thanks.” Ro nods and leaves to command kids around.

“Sorry about that.” Mira says.

“It’s alright. Besides, I barely feel it.”

“I was trying to be polite.” She says pointedly. “I just beat my first worthy opponent in years.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

Smoke, Sep. 1st

This’ll be short as I need to get some sleep.

I’m in Battlemage, although Jacmerl isn’t sure how long it’ll last. So, for now I’m safe, but I appreciate your concern. I’m glad you’ve made friends. Eaton and Mandy sound like Chase and Ry, only Ry is a girl. :P You said Ashmere was Filly’s last name, are you sure? If so, she will always be a very loyal friend, trust her even when she doubts you and herself.

I’ve got to go. Lights out in a few and Mom asked for an update.

I’m looking forward to the wedding and seeing you.

Bye for now,

Tempest

I frown at Temp’s letter. Her cryptic talk about Filly and what does Mom need an update on. And wedding? What? I grab my notebook and a pen before I really think over it and begin writing my questions. The bird is still perched on the desk, preening his wings. I’m not sure how he got inside, or how he found me in the library, but Temp likes to say that the Geáki are the smartest fowl out there. His mirage of blue, red, and yellow feathers make him a creature to be envied in beauty and color.

As soon as I’ve rolled the note he’s pecking at my fingers, waiting for me to hand it to him.

“Alright, alright. Here.” He snips my knuckles one last time and disappears with my letter.

“You’re Smoke Green, right?” The guy asking me is a young Werewolf, if not because of the wild look in his bright green eyes, then because of his glistening canines. His uncontained brown hair also gives him away. He looks to be in his twenties, but Werewolves are confusing when it comes to ages. Like Vampires, once they hit a certain age their aging slows to a snail’s pace, unlike Vampire, Werewolves still age.

But what is a Werewolf doing looking for me?

I glance around, looking for a familiar red-head, but she left a little while ago. Besides, it’s free time and not many want to send that special time in the library. “That’d be me.”

He smiles. “I’m Coal Raymond, Protector of the Mirror in Lunashield.”

“Um… okay.” I pause and close the book in my lap. “And that is exactly?”

“Confidential.” He says the word with a sigh, as if he says it a lot.

“Well, now I really want to know.” His eyebrows quirk in a challenge. So, even with my curiosity jumping, I don’t pry and shrug. “Okay. So, what brings you to Legend, or more specifically, the library, and to me?”

“Alex didn’t tell you, did he?”

“He’s told me a lot of things, but nothing about you.”

“I’m a Pure One, and I’ve been called here to help you find your Jade.”

“My what?”

He scoffs. “Honestly, do you know anything?” Well, that was rude. “Even a five year old Pure One, who’s only had one lesson in the arts of who they are, knows what a Jade is.”

“Well, I’m afraid my identity was kept hidden from me for sixteen years and I’ve only just now been able to catch up on my species.” I lift the book in my hand. It’s Esston Hays’ book on Fifth Daughters, but I’m still only a few pages in and he hasn’t really explained very much.

Coal frowns and grabs the book from me. “Where did you get this?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter, it is obvious Esston Hays has failed to teach you anything helpful, so until I leave at the end of the month, you will take your lessons from me and let this book collect dust.”

Good thing I’m only going to be here for two weeks, well twelve more days. My jaw hurts as I clench it shut. He obviously doesn’t have very much respect for the book, its author, or me, and it makes me seethe. I force the bitterness away as I recall something he said earlier. “I thought only humans could be Pure Ones.” Of course if I’m wrong, then I’ve just proven that he’s right about Esston Hays, but I don’t think I’m wrong.

His lips twitch between a smile and a scowl as he flips through the book’s thin pages. “I guess you did learn something from this book. I was bitten when I was twelve but my abilities had come early and I remain a Seventh’s Son to this day.”

I nod in understanding.

“Now,” he snaps the book closed and hands it back to me. “Do you have anything from past relatives?” I shake my head, more confused than giving an answer. “Any jewelry perhaps that was given to you by someone else?” Still I shake my head. “Is there anything you have that was given to you recently, or you’ve carried with you all your life?”

I almost answer ‘no’ again, until I remember Dad’s journals. But whatever a Jade is, I don’t think it is those books.

So, once again I shake my head. “No,”

“Alright, well, keep thinking. But then there’s also the chance that you’re not fully matured.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I nearly snap.

“Some Pure Ones don’t receive their Jades until they’ve obtained their dragons.”

“But how am I even supposed to know what a Jade is?”

“It is something that was given to you and you’ve never let it go. Normally it’s a necklace.” He pulls out a chain from around his neck. There’s a small animal tooth dangling from it. “This was my brother’s but he died when I was four and ever since then I’ve carried it around, it’s my Jade.”

“You didn’t answer my question, what is a Jade?”

“It’s something to store power in; normally your own power, but it can also hold those of your enemies. It has to be something you’ve been given or was once some relative’s, because then it means more to you than if you were to have bought or made it yourself.”

I understand that – sort of. But still, there’s nothing that sticks out as special, or… a Jade.

“I can’t think of anything like that.” I finally tell him.

He merely nods, but something tells me that he thinks I know of something. And maybe I do, I just can’t bring it to the forefront of my mind.

“Well, if you can keep thinking over it, I’ll be back tomorrow at four. We’ll have class in the designated room. I believe it is room two, correct?”

I nod and he leaves. Great, I totally want to have an extra class tomorrow. Especially since – according to my schedule – I have Battle Unworldly Creatures tomorrow afternoon and that sounds tiring even as I sit on the armchair in the quiet library.

I plop down on the couch and open Dad’s grey bound journal. After Coal left, it got me thinking, and after waiting about thirty minutes for the V2 I’m finally able to either confirm my thoughts or throw them out the window. I fiddle through the pages of Dad’s journal, not really looking for anything in particular; I just want to get my mind off of everything going on and see if he can help me understand this Jade thing. Esston didn’t help much. The only thing he talks about that’s anywhere close to resembling what Coal was talking about is something called a Leaflace, but I didn’t read very much on it – mostly because there was barely anything to read up on.

My arm is stiff with gauze and pulls on my skin when I stretch out on the couch, but I don’t feel the pain; instead it keeps me awake and alert to the world around me.

I flip through the pages, but nothing jumps out at me. It’s all about his adventures away from home, the first dozen or so entries are all dated before I was born, but all of them are before I turned two, because he wasn’t even alive for that birthday.

I sigh, and close the book in defeat.

What’s so helpful about this journal, if it tells me nothing I need to know about myself? I know Dad recorded all of this and gave it to me because he wanted me to know him but you’d think he would have researched some about Fifth Daughters. I mean the daughter he’s giving these to is a Fifth Daughter-slash-Pure One and he knew it.

But even as I prepare to put the books back in in my room, I can’t help but stop. Because he would have put something in here that will help me. Everything that Mom’s told me about Charles Alan Green, it all sums up to how he would hunt for answers and always record them. There shouldn’t be anything different about this circumstance.

So, I put his journal down and pick up the royal blue nearly completely empty one. The spine is as tight as it was the other day and the pages are just as stiff, but they’re also still nearly completely empty. This one tells me about as much as Dad’s: nada; zilch; nothing.

I drop the book on the floor and drape myself over the cushions with a groan.

I know life isn’t peaches and cream, but couldn’t it be just a little easier than this? Couldn’t someone throw me some answers? I’m sick and tired of barely understanding anything. With a huff I drop my feet to the floor and pick the journals back up to place them on the desk in my room, perhaps I’ll find whatever a Jade is later, right now I want to relax and do nothing before the V2 picks me up again for my last class.

But before I can head for the bed and do nothing, a sturdy knock on the door stops me.

“Yes?” I call out, straining to hearing anything.

“I have a package for Smoke H. Green.” Replies – I guess – the mailman.

“That’d be me.” I open the door to greet the rather tall mailman. He has to duck down and see me past the doorframe, and only then can I see the blue eye staring from the middle of his forehead.

“If you’d sign here please,” he holds out a clipboard and I sign the assigned line. He hands me a little box wrapped in parchment paper and turns to leave.

“Wait!” He stops and that one eye considers me. “Who sent this?” I gesture to the blank return address. He looks down at the clipboard.

“It doesn’t say, ma’am.”

“Okay,” I frown. “Thank you.”

He nods and turns to walk down the path toward the other cabins.

I close the door, eyeing the mystery package. I shake it and whatever is inside jumps with the action, making a strange, heavy, and clunky sound.

I tear at the paper and a note falls to the floor. Huffing I pick it up, my ribs aching in protest from today’s fight.

Smoke,

I’m sorry this is late, but I was afraid it might be the wrong one, so I had to make sure.

– someone watching out for you

My frown has deepened to the point that it hurts, and the headache forming behind my ear isn’t helping at all.

Late, as in a late birthday present? Afraid. Afraid of what? And making sure it wasn’t the wrong one, what is that supposed to mean? But someone watching out for you, now that’s really creepy.

But creepy – in this case – doesn’t kick out my curiosity and I pull the lid off the box.

Inside is a black rock wrapped in copper and hanging from a gold chain. No, not a rock. It’s a black dragon scale. Rough and crudely shaped, but a scale nonetheless. It’s small, a baby’s scale, but it is beautiful, and I don’t even have to pick it up to know exactly what it is.

It’s my Jade.