A Fifth Daughter [Book 1: The Dragon Rider]

Two bags – one full of clothes, the other with odds and books – and my purse sit by my bedroom door, waiting patiently for tomorrow to come. I, on the other hand, am not waiting patiently for tomorrow. I pace up and down the room length, sighing loudly and tugging my hair in slight frustration and in major nerves. Carma is reading a book in her bed, her lamp the only thing providing light in our room. She’s only given me slight looks of sympathy and annoyance, but she hasn’t said anything about my constant moving.

“I think I’ve finally reached my limit of fear.” I mutter, tapping a finger against my cheek.

Carma makes a noise that would sound like a grunt if she wasn’t trying to cover it up with a cough. “You shouldn’t be so worried. It’s only for two weeks.”

I frown and finally stop moving to look at her. “How do you know that?”

She shrugs and turns a page. “Mom said Mr. Oxford dared, or challenged you to go to Dragonmage for two weeks.”

“How does she know that?”

Another shrug. “She was in the room with you.”

That’s true, but she hasn’t said anything to me about it.

“Don’t think too hard on it, Mom knows everything.” That’s also true – annoyingly. Carma shuts her book and puts it on her nightstand. “Now, go get in bed. I’m turning off my light.”

I obey, only because tripping over things isn’t fun. My bed is cocooned in bookshelves, which are filled to the brim with books. A knee-high wall creates the perfect nightstand. I’ve been collecting books for as long as I can remember. The first one was Little Red Riding Hood, the latest being the one Mother Tyra is letting me borrow. Which reminds me that I need to read it, and probably before I leave tomorrow morning.

The book is on my nightstand glaring at me as I turn on my lamp. The fine, swirling writing seems to be glowing and the book looks very warn and very tattered. The pages are falling out and the bind bent from overuse. This is the book of a writer placing his thoughts into words. This is a book waiting to be read. And I’m afraid that that reader is me.

Sighing, holding my breath, and fidgeting are just a few of the things I do as I procrastinate my way to the book. But with great gusto, bravery, or whatever else might be considered a worthy adjective toward my situation; I pick up the book.

That wasn’t so hard, now was it? I hate the voice in my head right now.

I open the book somewhere in the middle and low and behold; words. There are words everywhere: In the margins, between the lines, and each page number is scribbled in pen. It looks more like a journal than a guide book to Fifth Daughters. But ignoring that, I turn to the beginning and prepare myself for whatever is waiting for me.

A Quick Introduction

The title is in a great need of work, but it’ll have to do because it is true. Fifth Daughters are the most powerful race ever created in Fantasy. All around the seven realms a race has never been found more powerful or more terrifying than Fifth Daughters. They are not a race to be dealt with calmly or taken lightly. They have enough power prowling through their veins to make the strongest of leaders; the greatest of killers; the smartest of people, fall prey to their will.

But I guess if this book has fallen into the hands of a Fifth Daughter, I’ve probably made you go very pale, faint, or laugh at my blatant understanding that you’re probably not believing a word of it. Don’t worry; I’ve done a fair amount of research. Other than traveling the realms and talking to any and all Fifth Daughters I’ve come in contact with, I’m also married to one. Although, none of the Fifth Daughters I’ve met are Pure Ones, they all have a great amount of abilities hidden inside themselves.

But first things first – this is only the introduction after all – throughout this short novella I will give you little tips to either (if you’re a Fifth Daughter) live up to your power, or (if you are in need to control one) how to contain that power. I’d suggest reading the first chapter and going from there. Besides it is always a good idea to start at the beginning.

I’ve always liked how this guy writes, but this is different than his normal. I’m used to his story books and the flowing of his words not his incomplete thoughts or obvious uncertainty. But he’s right. I definitely felt the blood draining from my face while reading. He makes us sound corrupt. He might be married to a Fifth Daughter, but he sure doesn’t mind putting us in a bad light.

But even that thought doesn’t deter me from flipping the page and preparing myself to read the first chapter.

Chapter One: The Difference Between a Fifth Daughter and a Pure One

First, let’s get our terms straight;

Fifth Daughter: any female who has four older sisters (all born from the same mother).

Pure One: five generations of Fifth Daughters.

Abilities: (my definition) powers of mass destruction that any (and all) Fifth Daughters possess.

Later, I’ll need to add more, but for now, those will do.

A Fifth Daughter in and of herself is very powerful, whether a first generation or a third, they are all unbelievably strong in both mind and body. A Pure One (as explained above) is five generations of Fifth Daughters, but they are also the rarest and most powerful, in every aspect of life. Of course, there are always those little things that get in the way; like their weakness for example.

(Add definition: Weakness: (my definition) the one thing, or person(s) that create the DOOM! button for any and all Fifth Daughters.)

All Fifth Daughters have weaknesses. They can be little things or the entire world (although, that might be a bit excessive). A Fifth Daughter normally obtains them unconsciously. For example: someone they’ve grown close to or something that holds great importance to them.

And normally this thing(s), or person(s), can be easily used as bargaining chips, blackmail, or any other horrid thing that can be done to either get what you want, or use someone (in this case a very powerful person).

(Add definitions: First Daughter: Just One. Second Daughter: Loyal One. Third Daughter: Absent One. Fourth Daughter: Knowing One. Fifth Daughter: Pure One.)

And there, you have the difference between a Fifth Daughter and a Pure One, and an extra side note on their weaknesses. Now I’m really hoping this has fallen into the hands of one of these people, because I could probably get killed for giving away race secrets.

Of course, I forgot about the flower, but we’ll talk about that later.

Well, that cleared up a lot of confusion. Too bad I’m in the Pure One category, because now I have the possibility of having a lot more power than the average Fifth Daughter.

Great, just great.

I slap the book shut with a sigh.

I couldn’t be a normal teenager, could I?

I blink slowly, trying to understand what woke me up. My clock says it’s nearly one thirty and the house is quiet, so what…?

The floor creaks in the hallway. Not your normal house-falling-asleep type creak, but a someone-is-up-and-about creak. I frown. Typically someone going to the bathroom doesn’t wake me up.

A chair scrapes in the dining room, it barely reaches my room, but the silence enhances everything. Even the front door opening. I can hear talking, but the house isn’t that quiet. Especially not now that someone is turning on lights and talking.

I slip out of bed, then wait and listen. Carma’s soft snores reach me and I continue to the door.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Mom hisses.

Our room is the furthest from the dining room, where I hear someone answer. I don’t know what they said, but they’re obviously feminine. Thankfully they’re not in the living room, or they’d see me creep down the hallway and crouch near the arch-entrance to the dining room.

“I know how to deal with my own daughter.” Mom says. A chair creaks.

“I’m not doubting your ability to care for her.” Answers the stranger. “Merely questioning your ways.”

“Well, I don’t need you to be questioning me. I need… no, I want you to leave.”

The woman sighs. “Allied…”

A chair screeches and I imagine Mom standing, her hands fisted at her sides. “No! Don’t you dare Allied me. I will not hitch Smoke to a carriage and expect her to move flawlessly.”

1) Mom’s talking about me, which isn’t ever a good thing. Especially when I don’t know who she is talking to. 2) Did she just compare me to a horse?

“Of course not Allied. I do not expect that either. Which is why she needs training.”

Mom huffs. “You know what. I’m glad she’s going to Dragonmage and away from your grasp.”

The woman scoffs. “My grasp reaches farther than you seem to realize.”

“Alex Oxford assures me that Smoke will not be touched while she is in Legend and that when her two weeks are up, no matter her decision to stay or come home, she will be protected. You may have Fantasy, Mom, but you don’t have the people… not yet.”

Okay, hold up. Mom? Mom has a Mom? I knew that. Mom has a Mom that’s alive? That sounds weird. But seriously, Mom?

Mom’s Mom laughs. “Alex can’t keep her safe forever. She will complete the path laid out for her. She will be my successor.”

“If that is her wish, then yes. But you are not to force her into this. That is what we discussed sixteen years ago. Smoke will make her own life, the way she wants it.”

“What, like you did? Tell me, are you enjoying your little life here in the slumps of Folklore? Do you enjoy the life of a widow?”

“I find more joy here among my children and friends than I do among your family and backstabbing old men.”

Another chair moves. “Be right to remember, that my family is also your family and your children’s family. They deserve to meet.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Allied…”

“Get out.”

“Are you not listening to me? You warned me and I didn’t listen, now I’m warning you and I’m begging that you listen to me. Tri will come back, and we both know he will bring an army with him and will destroy this world if Smoke doesn’t grow into her birthright.”

“She is going to have a dragon; that is quite enough of an inheritance. Now remove yourself before your guards have to defend your life.”

Silence.

Silence so thick I can hear Mom’s hard breathing.

“I hope you know that I never meant harm to come to Charles. Nor did I mean to shove you away.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t do much to make up for that. Now will you leave. Please.” Mom’s voice cracks. I can feel her tipping point coming.

Mom’s Mom does leave. In a flurry of extravagant clothing and a high-and-mighty aura she walks from the room gracefully. Two dark guards walk behind her. They leave the house, never turning back. The front door shuts quietly and I hear Mom’s sobs.

I peak around the corner. She is a crumbled mess of pajamas and tears. Her back is to me and her shoulders shake.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles quietly. “I tried.”

She’s not talking to me. I’ve heard that tone of voice before when she talks about Dad. I don’t know what she’s sorry for, or why she’s angry at her Mom. I don’t know what they were talking about, or why I was awake to hear it. Or why… Grimm there are so many questions jumping around.

I turn and leave. Mom doesn’t want to know I listened to all that. Not with how much she was trying to get my own grandmother to leave and not involve me in… whatever she was talking about.

Successor?

Birthright?

What is my grandmother a part of that has me being the one to gain it all?

And why me?

I shut the bedroom door and climb into bed, pulling the covers to my chin. Being the youngest in a family of seven doesn’t really leave me as much of a successor to something other than maybe a cow and the bed I’ve been sleeping in for nine years. I want to confront Mom, but I know her too well, she’ll find some way to get herself out of my questions, or she’ll flat out lie. And I continue to wonder why we’re not close. I must be living in my dreams if I think Mom will give me some type of truthful answer.

I close my eyes and force the thoughts away. Mom won’t answer them and I have feeling even if someone else knew, they won’t answer me.

“You up early.” Katie says, peeling potatoes for lunch. A lunch I won’t be having. Her chopping accent messing with the English words.

I sigh heavily and sit beside her grabbing a peeler and a fat potato. “I woke up around two and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

For half a second the peeler in her hand stills, but she covers it easily to shake out a piece of skin in the blades. “What woke you?”

“Someone going outside.” I yawn widely. I’m so tired. I just couldn’t fall asleep though. Every little noise woke me up.

“Humph… that’d been your mother. Cow with late birth ’gan making noise. Baby sick. Allied went get doc.” One of the heifers had a hard labor and the calf was born weak and constantly needing attention. Lately she’s been okay, but every now and then something like this happens.

“Oh,” I frown, had I imagined everything? “Are they both okay?”

“Cow fine. Calf still small and weak. Doc say both survive for while at least.”

I nod, still pondering everything. Had I dreamed all that happened this morning? Am I imagining how tired I am? I yawn. Nope, I’m exhausted. But if Mom went to check on the cow, then… I shake my head. There’s no telling if what happened last night is true or my mind playing tricks. The only way to know for sure would be to ask Mom, but she’ll avoid. I know she will. She’s very good at that.

“Katie?”

“Yes.” She looks at me and lowers the peeler.

My mouth opens, shuts, and nearly opens again as I try to find words. I want to ask. I need to ask. I need to know. I sigh. I’m an idiot if I think I’m going to get my answers from anyone but Mom. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Katie smiles, with that knowing motherly affection I wish I saw more often. “Don’t worry. You survive.”

I huff. “You know everyone seems to be saying that lately. It’s as if I should have a fear of dying.”

Katie shrugs and returns to peeling. “Dragons dangerous, never know. But… you survive.”

Shaking my head I return to helping with the potatoes. Katie makes me think about my humanity at times. It’s like she likes being complicated. Her and Mom are perfect for each other, their friendship stemmed from loss, but their love has grown very abundantly in the last decade.

I wonder back to early this morning. Did I really imagine it? And if so, what made me dream about my supposedly dead grandmother coming to our house and talking about strange things like; successor and birthright. Could I, the girl with a crazy mind, come up with all that?

Probably.

But to the point that I actually believe it?

I don’t know.

I just don’t know.