The fates, the Mercies, and the Sorrows were conspiring to keep me sidetracked. Or perhaps some god or other wanted to keep me away from Mother, because they kept throwing interesting things my way.

  There were valkin, there were goblins, and there were trolls, all moving north in somewhat ordered groups. There were troops of horse and infantry with all kinds of interesting banners, and there were camps with fancy tents. I swooped low on one of the camps and saw what must have been several Tekereteki, their dark skin standing out among the noticeably lighter Happarans. I wanted so very badly to grab one of them, but I just knew that would end with me flying back to Sarvalian’s camp. Then I’d end up talking to him, and finding Dirim, and then I’d feel obligated to go find Maglan, and before I knew it several hours would have passed and I’d be no closer to finding Mother. So I ignored them. Then, when the temptation almost became too great, I climbed to about a mile so I wouldn’t be able to see anyone and kept going.

  Of course, I didn’t know where I was supposed to go. I was familiar enough with the orientation of the inn to know that Avjilan’s spell had pointed me either toward the southern parts of Mallin’s central mountain range or simply the southern end of the island or beyond. It wasn’t the most precise as far as directions went, but at least I knew that there was no point in going anywhere near the eastern coast, or among the hills and fields that made up most of southern Mallin between the mountains and the sea. I flew a long zig-zag pattern that took me from the foothills to the central mountains and back, hoping to see any sign of Mother, but no such luck. There were no burning valleys where she might have dug a new lair on some mountainside and no flocks of panicked birds scattering from any particular area. No flashes of fiery brass in the distance, or roars echoing among the cliffs. Nothing at all. Nor did Mother come up to meet me.

  Around that point I started to really worry.

  I reached the southern end of the island. Happar was not on fire. The scattered archipelago stretched toward the horizon, and there was no compelling reason not to keep going, at least for a while. All I knew was that Mother was south of Karakan; that might mean that she found herself a nice island to enjoy the sun and the sea. Unlikely, but not impossible. That, or she might be asleep and hadn’t noticed me yet, and if I was south of her when she did, she’d be sure to come find me!

  I’d been island hopping for an hour when I saw a large shape silhouetted against the sky, far to the south of me. Instinct came alive with excitement, and I happily let her come to the front in preparation of meeting Mother and finding out what she was doing here.

  The shape grew larger as we approached each other, but the first time I saw the sun glint off it I knew that something was off. Mother shone like a rampaging wildfire when the sun reflected off her scales. Whoever this was heading my way was colder, like the morning sun on a calm sea.

  The one approaching me was undoubtedly a dragon. But it was not Mother.

  Pride and confidence abandoned me as Instinct demanded we turn right the hell around at highest possible speed, diving to accelerate faster. A dragon! An unfamiliar dragon coming my way! And I was sure of only two things when it came to other dragons: they were almost guaranteed to be stronger than me, and from what Mother had told me there was a greater than fifty-fifty chance that they’d simply kill me, strangling the competition in the cradle.

  We needed to flee. We needed to hide. We needed help!

  “We need Mother!” Instinct wailed in my mind. “Where is Mother?!”

  We sped north toward land. Looking back, we saw the other dragon following close. Not actually closing in, but staying on our tail, a few hundred feet back no matter how fast we flew. His scales had a bright steel sheen, almost silver though with a bluish tint. He was big, though not as big as Mother, and I was sure that he was a male in the same way that I had known that Mother was a female when I first saw her. That, at least, was a relief, since it meant that there was a smaller chance of him wanting to kill me than if he’d been a female, but mother had only said that a male might tolerate an immature female like myself if he wanted to claim my territory for his own. There was no guarantee, and so even though he seemed content to stay close for now, I didn’t give an inch. I knew what to do. I’d get to the mountains, and I’d find some nice, deep cave or crevice to dive into. Then I’d Shift, and with any luck he’d have no bloody clue where I’d gone. Then I could wait for him to give up and leave, and I’d fly north to warn everybody.

  Gods and Mercies damn it all! Why was there another Sorrows-begotten dragon here?! Why now? There hadn’t been a dragon on Mallin for hundreds of years as far as anyone knew, and now there were three. Had me waking up set off some kind of alarm, some siren call drawing them to the greatest buffet of Rifts in the known world? What the hell was going on?

  The mountains of Mallin rose from the sea to the north, promising safety — temporarily, if nothing else. We passed low over ships entering or leaving the port south of Happar, low enough to see the shock and fear on the sailors’ faces. Then we were over the port itself and past, skirting Happar only a few hundred yards west of the walls as we beelined for the peaks.

  We threw a look over our shoulder to confirm that our pursuer was holding his station. He wasn’t. He was gaining, and fast. Clearly he was not interested in losing us among the peaks.

  I resigned myself to the possibility that we might have to Shift where he could see us and then hide wherever we may. I hated the idea, but we weren't about to let him catch us. When we looked again, though, he wasn’t behind us anymore. Instead he’d drifted to the side and was coming up fifty feet off our left — a hopeful sign.

  Then he spoke, roaring across the distance in a voice nearly as deep as Mother’s. We didn’t understand a word he said; it was some kind of draconic, but it wasn’t what my mother had taught us. When we didn’t respond he tried again in some other tongue that didn’t mean anything to me, before trying, of all things, Barlean.

  “Land, little one! Land!” he called. Even if we weren't already afraid for our literal life, his tone was frustrated and superior enough that there was no world in which we’d stop and talk to him. It was a very, “Oi, mate! I just want to talk!” kind of tone; nothing good had ever come of engaging with that.

  He could have tried to force us down. He was close enough that he could have flamed me, assuming he had some lesser version of Mother's fiery breath — I never seriously thought that he might be able to match her, but he wouldn't need to even get close to her level to send us smoking from the sky. But he didn't. Except for following and growling at us he didn't do anything overtly hostile, and I started to think that we’d actually get away.

  In what seemed like a last ditch effort, he pulled ahead. He never actually took his eyes off us, but he put himself where he could use the tail signals Mother had taught us to again tell us to land. From what Mother had said, those were universal to all draconic languages — this stranger must have figured we didn't understand a word he'd said, and so he went for the most basic form of communication there was.

  He needn’t have bothered. We still weren't going to stop, and then we didn't need to.

  From around the rapidly closing peaks came a glint of fiery brass. The stranger must have seen something change in our demeanor, because he chose that moment to look ahead. A surprised jerk went through him and then he abruptly veered sharply to the left, turning back the way we’d come at all speed.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Mother didn't even slow down as we met. She threw one look at us as she passed no further away than the stranger had been and kept going, moving so fast that the wind she tore out of the sky sent us tumbling wing over wing. We’d lost half our altitude and were uncomfortably close to the ground before we recovered, climbing again as we turned to follow Mother.

  She didn't go far. She chased the strange male a few miles out to sea then turned back to meet us properly. When she did, we couldn't read her at all; she signalled for us to follow, so we did, flying behind her for a short distance until we reached a high, green valley where she took us down.

  On the ground her mood was much easier to see; she was irritated in a way that was completely new to us. We’d seen her angry, imperious, happy, curious, and even playful, but we couldn't remember ever seeing her frustrated and annoyed.

  “I had not expected to see you here, daughter,” she said, her tone clipped.

  “I had not expected to need to come looking for you,” we said, “but you were not at your lair, and you did not come find me.”

  “Oh? Am I to be at your beck and call?”

  We cringed at the harshness in her tone. “No. Of course not. But I grew, and then I could not find you.”

  We spread our wings lamely, and got to see another new thing on Mother: embarrassment.

  “I should have tempered myself before speaking,” she said by way of apology. “You have grown, and it delights me to no end, please believe that. I am just… well. You saw the interloper.”

  “Who is he?” we asked.

  “A suitor whose skull is too thick with horn and scale to know when to quit,” she said sourly. “I sensed his approach a few days ago and came south to confront him. This is the third time I have driven him off.”

  My mind blanked. Instinct retreated entirely, like she wanted nothing more to do with the whole situation and was hiding beneath myself and Conscience. A suitor? What?

  I tried for some very long moments to think of something appropriate to say. In the end all that came out was, “Tell him I’m not interested!”

  Mother looked at me, absolutely baffled. Then she chuffed, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. “He is not here for you, dear daughter! It is me he is interested in! You are still a child, dear!”

  “But he chased me!” I protested.

  “No doubt to ask you about me! Little one, if there are two females in the same territory, the most likely explanation is that they are family. I had already rebuffed him twice; no doubt he hoped to learn something from my daughter or granddaughter to improve his chances.”

  “And you're not interested?” I asked.

  “Not in the least,” she said derisively. “I admit he is quite pleasing to the eye, and a fast, agile flyer, but the fellow is dense as lead. Three times, Draka! The first I singed his tail, the second I knocked him into the waves. Perhaps I should have finished the job this time, but felt it more important to return to you. If you only knew what a surprise it was to wake and find you south of me!”

  “You were sleeping? That’s why you didn’t meet me?”

  “Of course I was sleeping. I was keeping track of that sea-scaled bruiser. What point was there in staying awake? I only woke fully when I felt your thread flared bright, just as he was approaching. Speaking of which…”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned down, her head snaking closer to me so she could really inspect me. “Your thread flared, and then, as we spoke, it practically extinguished. Even now I can barely feel you standing before me. And your speech changed at the very same time. What happened just now, daughter?”

  I did not envy Mak at that moment. My mother could be absolutely and effortlessly terrifying without even meaning to. If I thought about it rationally, she was looking at me with concern, not suspicion, but I still couldn’t stop the cold fear that washed through me as she looked me over, sniffing me carefully. Goddamn Instinct! Of all the times to refuse to front, she chose now? No matter what I tried, she stayed submerged, barely a spec in my awareness.

  She could smell fear just as well as I could. I could see it in her expression, and that just made me even more afraid and anxious. I couldn’t lie to her, not if she demanded the truth. And while I had no idea how Mother might respond to the truth of my existence, most of the possibilities were bad.

  Luckily, with only some of the facts, she drew the wrong conclusion. “Is it the fear, perhaps?” she mused, carefully moving closer. I stayed rooted to the spot, not daring to do anything that might arouse her suspicions. “Some effect of your magic, to hide you in times of danger? I can smell it on you, dear daughter? Did he disturb you so badly? Do not worry. There is nothing to fear.”

  She spoke gently, soothingly, and it slowly dawned on me what was happening. “I am sure he meant no harm, little one,” Mother continued as she slowly, carefully moved to wrap herself around me. “He would not have hurt you. There would be no point. He just wanted to talk, that was all. Just wanted to ask you about me. But do not worry. I will never let him bother you again. I will burn him out of the sky if he shows himself here again.”

  She was trying to calm me, to soothe my fears, and the crazy thing was that it worked! Both because of what she said — her promise to keep me safe — and because of the sheer bulk of her settling around me, warm and rumbling as she covered me with her wing. It brought back the things Herald and Mak had said, about the comfort they found in being able to allow themselves to feel small sometimes. As I lay there, with Mother making little chirping sounds at me as she turned herself into a physical barrier between me and the world, I knew exactly what my sisters had meant.

  It was also an important reminder that no matter how seriously Mother might talk to me sometimes, no matter how maturely she may treat me, to her I was still her unexpected baby. I had no idea whether that would protect me or just make things worse if she found me out, but in that moment it was an immense comfort.

  And an immense relief, as Instinct finally emerged from where she’d been hiding and came to the front again. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d always fled when things got really bad, but of course she’d want to be there for cuddle-time with Mommy. Another important reminder to myself: Instinct, no matter her vocabulary, had the emotional development level of a particularly violent toddler, and it was unfair of me to expect more of her.

  In a moment of sympathy I let Instinct fully to the front, letting go of the reins completely. I became a spectator in my own body, but there was nothing frightening or uncomfortable about it; I could take back control at any time, and Instinct knew it. And there was nothing to worry about, anyway.

  “There you are,” Mother said, her tone heavy with satisfaction, relief, and happiness. “Is that better?”

  “Much better,” Instinct said, and Conscience and I watched as she did nothing more destructive and irresponsible than to settle in, snug against Mother’s side, rumbling happily as we drifted off into the best nap we’d ever had away from our hoard.

  We napped there until sunset, when Instinct surprised me again. When we woke, she told Mother, “I should go. I promised my humans to try and be back tonight. May I?”

  “Mrrrm, if you must,” she replied. “The humans will worry, will they not?”

  “Poor Makanna will not settle down until she sees me safe,” Instinct said. “She is very dependent on me.”

  “Then you must go and calm the poor thing down.” Mother shifted around and raised her wing so we could get to our feet.

  Instinct had us get up and stretch languorously, then pad away a few steps before turning around. “I was very relieved to find you safe, Mother,” she said. “I would hate for you to get hurt.”

  “I appreciate that, little one,” Mother said, her eyes crinkling happily. “But do not worry about that. There are few dragons and nothing else that could harm your old mother. Now, go. Take care of those dear little humans of yours. I will stay here for some days to make sure that horn-brained male understands that he is not wanted here.”

  Everything was good. I’d helped the army. Mother was safe. She hadn’t found us out, and we’d had a nice, long nap together, cementing our bond ever so slightly. All in all, a productive trip! Then, just as Instinct spread our wings to take off, Mother added, as an afterthought, “When I return we should talk about how to deal with the rest of them.”

  And just like that, I had a whole new thing to worry about.

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