A Thousand Blades

“You really like living life on the edge, don’t you?” Ebony asked. She flicked a long strand of hair – one of the same color as her namesake – out of her eyes, letting their mystical green depths catch and hold Strider’s own.

She had a way of speaking that was wholly unique – inflections and mannerisms she alone seemed capable of producing. Yet individually they were impossible to pinpoint, flowing eloquently in amongst her speech like silvery fish in a river’s current.

And those currents carried so much with each syllable: ease, anxiety, calm, danger, playfulness, sternness, happiness, and somberness were only the tip of the spectrum. They were those emotions and feelings pulled directly from her soul – and those mirrored in Strider’s own.

“We’ve been having our little chats for what… six months now?” she pressed, sliding forward to place a single finger on the man’s chest. He gulped and cringed, though did not pull away.

There was nothing in the touch that caused him physical pain. There were no hidden weapons, no secretive martial arts that she could invoke against him. The young woman before him was not directly dangerous – but, connotatively, she was a nightmare.

The veil that covered Ebony was not foolproof – knowledgeable, Strider could pry it back to see what lay beyond. There were flickers of another presence in her eyes, shadows that flashed through their depths telling of a far greater creature that dwelt beneath her flesh. There was a cool, collective air in her speech and poise that far surpassed the expectations of a girl of her age – noble, commoner, or otherwise.

But any suspicions about her identity were confirmed by a far more tangible piece of evidence: a small black stone, shaped in the likeness of a teardrop, secured along her forehead. It was not a casual piece of jewelry but a crest, a symbol of the House of Fire that had come to by a national icon.

The House of Fire was the ruling house of the Red Empire, a seat of power unmatched by the nobility of any other nation on the eastern half of the continent. But the empire was not ruled by humans: strength of their stature was attained through draconic blood, born from the noblest and proudest race to walk – or fly – the surface of the world.

And, though she appeared human – though she appeared to be the most beautiful woman Strider had ever seen – Ebony was no exception.

“It has been six months.” She said decidedly, prodding him in the chest a second time. Inadvertently he took a step back; and, delightedly, she pressed her advantage.

“Once a week for six months you creep up from your little village and I slink out of the nesting grounds. Then we talk about mindless things for a few hours knowing full well that if we’re caught we’ll both be put to death.

“I know that my family would be heartbroken. They’d find something simple for me: nice, swift, and to the point – probably decapitation. But they’d really let you have it! My mother and father take being ‘burned at the stake’ to a whole new level; and my sister has developed a knack for… culinary arts, if you catch my drift?

“If your people catch us? You’ll probably hang. I don’t know what they’ll do to me. I’ve heard rumors that your kind has rediscovered the Arthur Swords. Perhaps they’ll test that out on me?”

“Where did you hear about the Arthur Swords?” Strider asked, a sardonic smile teasing at the corners of his mouth and glinting in the backlight of his eyes.

“Your little uprising hasn’t exactly gone unnoticed.” Ebony reminded him. “Try having dinner in The Peaks without hearing something about the ‘humans massing in the north’ or the ‘rebels taking the mines in the south’ between every bite. I swear my family throws the subject around like a condiment – and the Arthur Swords? Anything made out of gold tends to catch their attention; but anything that can effortlessly cut through dragon scales really catches their attention. There aren’t too many weapons like that just lying around.”

“What about you? Do they scare you as much as they scare the Emperor and Empress?” he asked.

The dragon took a moment to muse over the question. Evidently some part of her had to be moving at all times; and, when her lips stopped, her hands started. After five successive prods to the human’s chest, however, she seemed to have made peace with her answer.

“If I saw virtually any man with one of those swords, I’d probably squawk like a hatchling.” Ebony reasoned. “But if you had the sword? I can’t really say I’d be all that frightened…”

She reached towards Strider’s belt, tugging playfully at the sword strapped there. Immediately he put his own hand on the hilt, turning defensively to put it safely out of harm’s reach.

“I’m an officer in the rebellion!” he reminded her incredulously.

“I don’t honestly believe you at this point.” She chided, moving her then-empty hands to flick him on the nose.

“Just an officer now? Last month you were a lieutenant in a prestigious regiment.” She recalled. “The month before that you were a captain in the elite guard. The month before that you were on the leading council. Back when we first met you were the second in command!”

He blushed, cowering guiltily under his hood. Impatient and altogether empowered she pushed forward, tugging the cowl off the back of Strider’s head so that his silver hair scattered about in the moonlight.

“So tell me,” she ordered, shifting her fingers to rustle the metallic locks “were you just trying to impress me?”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably but did not answer.

“Tell me,” she implored, her voice softer and far more quiet “do you remember the night when we first met?”

Again he didn’t answer; though, this time, his silence was far more thoughtful and far less uneasy. It was a pleasantly reminiscent lull – albeit one that Ebony could only maintain for so long.

“What was going through your head then?” she demanded, her voice a trailing whistle. “I honestly think that you honestly thought I was going to eat you!”

“I honestly thought anyone would honestly be angry if you marched in on them bathing!” Strider snapped back.

“You humans are so funny.” The dragon snickered. “You get all flustered the moment someone shows a little bit of skin! But you’re particularly funny: from what I hear men only hang around women until they ‘see some skin’. You already got what you wanted and yet you keep showing up. What, are you hoping you’ll get seconds?”

“That’s not why I’m here.” The swordsman assured her.

“Well we don’t have to be ‘here’ at all as soon as you drop the whole Rebel-Leader façade.” Ebony scoffed. “Maybe we could even meet at The Peaks? I’d like you to meet my father sometime – I think you two would get along well!”

“Ebony,” Strider began, taking a deep breath. He took a step forward, taking both of her hands in his own.

For once the dragon was still. He had never demonstrated any modicum of control in any of their former meetings; and while his hold was gentle, it was nevertheless authoritative.

“There is a very specific reason why I’m here tonight.” He confessed. His gaze turned skyward and she followed it, her eyes soaring far above the forest canopy to linger on the towering peak in the distance. There the hundred or so dragons that encompassed the empire’s nobility dwelt; and, there, the draconic seat of power in the Red Empire took on a very tangible form.

Perhaps it was Ebony’s imagination but, as she watched, tiny flames began to spark and die along the slopes of The Peaks – like the immolating embodiment of the dragons’ power. She gave a comforted smile; but, when she turned back to Strider, his stoic visage did not mirror her confidence or reflect her admiration.

“I always thought dragons were evil creatures.” He explained. “I met you and I thought differently – or tried to. It… it is like your example with the Arthur Swords: you’d trust me but no one else. I respect you… but no one else.”

“My father is a great leader!” she protested, doing her best to maintain some semblance of a smile. It was another first for Strider: he had said something offensive.

“Your father is a great leader.” He agreed. “But I have to disagree that we would ‘get along well’ in anything. He knows what every great leader knows: how to keep power. But he does not know how to maintain a nation – namely a nation that isn’t comprised of his own kind.”

“So says the rebellion.” She countered. “The way I see it, no single man – dragon or human – can do any better. But we’ve got the throne, scales that your weapons can’t pierce, and enough firepower to melt a sizable city. We’ve got the advantage – and a chance to prove you wrong!”

“No,” he returned “you don’t.”

He stepped back, returning a hand to the pommel of his sword. Slowly he slid the weapon from its sheath; and, as inch by inch of the blade emerged from the scabbard, a low golden glow gradually began to illuminate the small riverside glade.

“There is a very specific reason why I’m here tonight.” He said again. “Or, more specifically, why you are here tonight.”

Despite everything she’d said, Ebony was afraid. She pulled away, shaking her head in disbelief as the Arthur Sword came into the open.

It didn’t matter who held it. Dragons were eternal creatures, living for centuries on end without fear of aging, disease, or mortal threat. And when one was forced to look death in the face, one became a cornered animal: mindless, numb, and humbled.

Strider, too, had to take a moment to appreciate the artifact he held. But it was only a moment; and then he acted.

Before Ebony could fully register the motion the weapon was at her feet – hers to do with as she willed. When she looked back, however, she realized that the weapon wasn’t the only thing her friend wanted to bring to the forefront of their conversation.

“Can you see them?”

The dragon turned back towards the mountain, following Strider’s eyes. The fires she had glimpsed before were there but far more pronounced, no longer fading but burning perpetually. It was no long the crackling of hope and prowess but the smoldering of war, the crumbling and burning of fights raging from the slope to the summit of The Peaks.

“There are a thousand blades.” The swordsman explained. “A thousand blades just like this one are marching on the House of Fire as we speak. They render the wielder immune to dragon fire; they pierce scales like leather; they are weightless, agile, and easily used. They are the bane of every dragon, and they are in the hands of the rebellion.

“I am a Rebel Officer.” He assured her. “And I have known for nearly six months what would take place tonight. And I have known, since then, that you would not be there to be a part of it.”

“You stopped me from helping save my house…”

Anger bristled through her hair. The monster lurking in her eyes made its presence known, roaring to life to rip and claw at its human guise. Her pupils shifted from placid circles to thin, vicious slits as the whites of her eyes darkened to a midnight black. Her lips and gums barred themselves, pearly teeth elongating into serrated fangs. Her well kept fingernails popped and twisted from her fingers, replaced by jagged claws protruding just beneath.

“I saved your life.” He snapped bluntly. “You being there would have changed nothing – expect adding another casualty. You are safe, and you may do with me what you will.”

Indecisiveness shook through Ebony. She glanced down to the weapon at her feet – the sight of which alone filled her with a feeling of powerlessness, of weakness none of her kind was ever meant to experience. The blade felt poisonous; and she knew that, were it held against her, she would have keenly felt its sting.

“So why?” she demanded. “Why take me here? Why keep me safe?”

The shrug she received was neither the answer she wanted or expected.

“Maybe I’m hoping I’ll ‘get seconds’?” he speculated. “Maybe I’m feeling regret for my part in the uprising? Or… maybe I’m not trying to save a dragon, but a woman – one I’ve become rather attached to.”

A particularly bright flash lanced from the peak of the mountain; and, faintly, the echoes of a dying roar rippled along the breeze. In that instant Ebony didn’t care why she was where she was; she only cared that she was still breathing, only knew that her still-beating heart meant she would have to endure a world no longer governed by her family’s hands.

“You have to take your crest off.” Strider instructed, stepping back towards the stunned dragon. “You’re going to have to pose as a human until we can get you out of the country.”

Ebony made no move to do as he said; instead she lunged forward, her arms pushing beneath the swordsman’s own to loop around his ribs. She caught and held him there, her face buried in his shoulder as the first tears began to fall.

Slowly, quietly, Strider finagled his fingers around the gemstone. With a slight tug the dragon’s forehead was bare; and, in that instant, her human likeness was unblemished.

That night a thousand blades marched on the capital, carving a new order in their wake the likes of which had not been seen in the Red Empire since its inception eons before. But one blade, forgotten and discarded amongst the foothills, turned towards saving and preserving it; and, in the years that followed, held no regret for the side it took.