Chương 13: The Visitor

Everyone was up early the next morning, and the foundation of the cabin had survived its first night. Roy considered that the minimum acceptable standard, but Talia had looked as though he had performed a miracle. He knelt beneath the cabin's single window with one knee pressed into the frozen earth. A narrow draft slipped through the seam where the wooden frame met the wall, faint enough that most people would not have noticed it until the next severe wind.

Beside him sat a shallow bowl filled with a thick green-brown paste. Shredded fibers ran through its glossy surface, and a clean fragrance of wet bark, crushed leaves, and pine rose from it whenever he stirred it with the flat wooden tool in his hand. He pressed another portion into the seam. The substance yielded like dense sap at first, filling the irregular space between the fitted boards. As Roy smoothed a thinner layer over the surrounding wood, its surface began to dull and firm in the winter air.

Garrick leaned closer.

"So that holds the wall together?"

"No." Roy kept his attention on the seam.

"The joinery holds the wall together. This keeps the wind and water from taking advantage of the places where the joinery is imperfect."

"Then it is glue."

"It can be glue."

"What else can it be?"

"A sealant. A patching compound. Reinforcement around the places where timber meets stone, cloth, clay, or packed earth. It can waterproof a fitted joint, repair a cracked vessel, or strengthen a weak seam." Garrick rested his good hand against the window frame. Roy slapped it away with the wooden tool.

"It can also be ruined by impatient people before it cures." Talia looked out from inside the cabin's partially constructed walls.

"Relax, Garrick. You have tested every part of the cabin at least twice." Garrick withdrew from the window with wounded dignity. Clover rested several feet away in a patch of weak morning sunlight. He had spread his broad leaflike frills as wide as they would go, exposing the translucent green membranes between sections of his bark-brown hide. Moss had gathered along his spine, and several tiny clover-shaped blooms opened toward the light.

At Roy's mention of the sealing compound, Clover lifted his head and looked toward the bowl.

"Yes, I used enough fiber," Roy told him. Clover rose and approached. Rootlike pads spread beneath his feet when he reached the damp soil beside Roy. He lowered his blunt nose toward the bowl, inspected the remaining Greenbind, then turned his attention to the seam Roy had filled.

"It is a window," Roy said.

"Not a ceremonial application." The drake continued staring, as if pointing out a clear insufficiency.

"You become increasingly particular for someone who produces this from processed rubbish." Clover's frills lowered. Roy sighed." Useful processed material." The frills rose again. Talia laughed from inside the cabin. The sound had become more common since Garrick woke, though she still looked faintly surprised whenever it escaped her. Roy scraped the remaining Greenbind from the tool and spread it over the lower edge of the frame.

He had named the substance after experimenting with several of the products emerging from Clover's waste piles.

When mixed with bark, sawdust, shredded plant fibers, and selected pieces of Clover's processed material, it became Greenbind. Roy stood and tested the seam with one finger. The surface had already begun resisting pressure.

"That needs time," he said.

"Do not touch the window until midday." Garrick looked toward Talia.

"He means me."

"Yes. You are also the only person here he warned." Talia returned her attention to the cabin. Their belongings would not fill much of it. A pair of packs, several repaired tools, spare clothing, and what remained of their family's small stores would occupy less than half the available space. Even so, the modest building no longer felt empty. Two sleeping platforms lined opposite walls. A compact hearth stood at the rear.

Shelves and storage spaces had been fitted beneath both beds, and the single window faced the original cottage across the yard. The cabin was smaller than the siblings' home and simpler in every respect, but it was also permanent. The farm had changed shape to make room for people beyond Orion, Roy, and Aurelia. Roy wiped his fingers on a scrap of cloth and looked toward the field. Orion stood near the edge of the cleared ground, studying the shallow slope beyond the cottage.

Several narrow channels crossed the soil where Shale had begun shaping drainage and future irrigation lines. Snow had been removed in broad, uneven sections, leaving strips of frozen earth exposed between white banks. Roy collected the bowl.

"Talia, Garrick, take Clover inside once he finishes basking. He can continue inside." Clover turned his head. The drake's expression suggested that Roy did not understand sunlight.

"The Greenbind needs time to cure," Roy continued.

"There is no reason for any of you to remain outside." Garrick glanced toward the field.

"Do you need help?"

"Not with one arm." Garrick accepted the bowl with more seriousness than the assignment deserved, then the three headed off. Roy crossed the yard toward Orion. He stepped over one narrow line in the exposed soil, avoided a partially buried stone, and passed between two short stakes marked with scraps of pale cloth. Orion shifted aside before Roy reached him, giving a shallow patch of disturbed earth more space than it appeared to require.

"The first crop rows should start there," Roy said, pointing toward the gentler slope.

"Enough drainage to keep the spring thaw from drowning everything, but not so much that Nimbus must replace all the moisture." Orion studied the land.

"Shale will need to turn most of it."

"Not near the cabin foundations."

"I know."

"You let him dig too close to the barn last time."

"He put it back."

"Eventually." Orion moved several steps toward the center of the field, carefully avoiding another strip of snow where the surface sagged by less than an inch.

"The irrigation line can run from the upper basin," he said.

"Shale can cut the main channel. Nimbus can redistribute the water once we know how much the soil holds."

"That only gives us perhaps one-third of the field by planting season."

"We do not have seed for more."

"We might by then." Orion glanced toward him.

"From where?"

"Bellhaven, if the route opens. Trade, if anyone comes near enough to discover we have something worth trading. Perhaps Uncle has seeds hidden among the tea leaves he keeps bringing."

"Uncle brings tea because Aurelia likes it."

"Uncle brings tea because he knows none of us will refuse something described as a shared drink." Roy crouched near one of the buried stones and brushed frost from its upper edge. Orion kept his voice even.

"How much land can we realistically prepare?"

"With Shale?"

"With all of us." Roy looked toward the tree line. Nimbus, Shale, Kindle, and Aurelia remained out of sight.

"More than we can plant," he said.

"Less than you will attempt."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the most accurate answer you will receive." Movement near the woodland path caught Roy's attention. A lone figure approached through the snow. The young man appeared around Roy's age, perhaps younger. He wore a dark traveling coat fitted closely enough that it should have restricted movement, though he crossed the uneven path without stumbling. His boots were clean. So were the lower edges of his clothing. He showed no sign of fatigue. No cloud of breath left his mouth despite the cold. Roy straightened.

Orion continued studying the field for another heartbeat before turning. The stranger approached without raising a hand in greeting. His features were striking rather than friendly—dark red-brown hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of heated copper. He carried no visible pack, weapon, or provisions. His gaze passed over Roy first, then Orion, then the cabin, cottage, barn, field, and tree line. He examined the property the way a merchant might inspect an estate offered below its value.

"Good morning," Roy said. The stranger stopped several yards away.

"Is it?"

"The weather is clear."

"That is a modest standard."

"We live modestly." The stranger looked toward the new cabin.

"Not as modestly as the land suggests. You have accomplished a considerable amount of construction for an isolated household."

"Winter provided motivation."

"And additional residents?" Talia appeared briefly through the cabin window before stepping out of sight. Roy folded the cloth he had used on his hands.

"People require shelter." The stranger smiled faintly.

"A careful answer."

"It was a simple question." Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Orion shifted closer, not enough to threaten but enough to place himself between the stranger and the buildings. The young man noticed, but his smile remained.

"You are protective."

"It is my home," Orion said.

"So it is." The stranger's gaze moved toward the exposed field. He studied the channels, the disturbed patches, and the strangely placed markers without appearing to understand their significance. Roy hoped that remained true.

"I am curious." The stranger took several steps into the field.

"This place carries more activity than one would expect. Construction. Altered soil. Water where the ground should be frozen. Several overlapping magical traces." Roy kept his expression still.

"Magic is a broad word."

"Not to those who understand it." The pressure arrived before Roy recognized its source. It was not wind or heat. Nothing visible changed, yet the air around the stranger seemed heavier. Roy's skin tightened across his shoulders. Some older instinct urged him to move farther away. Orion felt it too. Roy saw the change in the set of his jaw. The stranger looked toward the cottage.

"Have unusual creatures been seen nearby?" Roy allowed a pause.

"Yes."

"How unusual?"

"One of them eats furniture if left unsupervised." The stranger's eyes sharpened.

"Drakes." The word settled between them. Roy did not deny it.

"I can sense several," the stranger continued.

"Young. Different in nature, yet gathered within one boundary."

"Why does that interest you?"

"It concerns me."

"That is not the same thing." The stranger's faint smile returned.

"Young dragons require instruction. Discipline. Guidance from those who understand their instincts and magical development. Humans rarely recognize what they are raising until the damage becomes impossible to ignore." His gaze passed over the scarred field.

"You have already altered the land around you."

"The drakes helped us survive winter."

"Useful, then." Roy heard the greed beneath the polished concern. The visitor had not asked whether the dragons were healthy. He had not asked their names, their behavior, or how they had come to live here. His concern was a garment worn over appetite.

"I would like to see them," the stranger said.

"No," Roy replied. The visitor's expression barely changed.

"I am not requesting possession. I want to ensure they are being treated properly."

"By what authority?" The copper eyes narrowed.

"The authority of understanding what they are." Orion's voice hardened.

"You know nothing about them."

"I know they are young drakes being kept by humans in an isolated farmstead."

"They are not being kept." The stranger looked toward him.

"No?"

"They live here."

"Then you claim no ownership. That simplifies matters. If they do not belong to you, you cannot object to their being placed under more suitable protection." Orion took one step forward. Roy moved first, placing himself slightly between them while also shifting several feet toward the center of the field.

"We can object because they can object," Roy said.

"They are hatchlings. Dependence is not understanding."

"They choose where they sleep. What work they perform. Who they remain near." The stranger's gaze moved briefly toward the cottage again.

"Animals also form attachments to those who feed them." Orion's hands clenched. Roy saw genuine anger flare across his brother's face. He also saw Orion allow more of it to show than he normally would. Good. Let the stranger believe the conversation was slipping away from them.

"You speak about them as resources," Roy said.

"I speak about them as dragons."

"No. You speak about what they can do." The visitor's courtesy thinned.

"You do not possess the knowledge to judge my intentions."

"Then explain them."

"I have." The stranger advanced another several steps.

"Allow me to inspect the drakes. If their condition is acceptable, we can discuss what arrangement best serves them."

"There is no arrangement to discuss." The stranger exhaled, though still no breath appeared in the cold air.

"I have attempted patience."

"You arrived several minutes ago," Roy said. He looked beyond Roy toward the buildings.

"I am offering restraint. Surrender the hatchlings, and I will leave your home, your land, and your ordinary possessions untouched." Orion moved farther to the opposite side. The visitor turned slightly to keep both brothers within view. Each adjustment carried him deeper into the prepared ground.

"You describe theft as restraint," Orion said.

"You cannot steal what is not owned," the stranger replied.

"They own themselves." The young man's expression shifted from irritation toward something closer to contempt.

"Hatchlings do not decide their own futures. They cannot understand the dangers created by concentrating so much immature draconic power in one place. Other dragons will sense them. Less patient dragons."

"Like you?" Roy asked.

"I came to prevent greater harm."

"By taking four valuable young drakes."

"By correcting human interference."

"Would you let them choose?" The stranger laughed once, it held no humor.

"Their attachment to you proves only that you have influenced them beyond what is natural. They have been fed, sheltered, and made dependent. You mistake obedience for preference." Roy thought of Kindle refusing orders until he understood them. Shale burying himself rather than touch snow. Nimbus expanding with stolen bathwater because she found it amusing. Clover sulking when insulted and inspecting every use of Greenbind.

"Obedience has not been our primary difficulty," Roy said. The stranger ignored him.

"You have three choices. Permit my inspection. Release the drakes voluntarily. Or accept responsibility for what follows when I remove them."

"Those are the same choice," Orion said.

"They are the remaining peaceful choices." Roy glanced toward Orion. The movement was brief, but it was enough. The visitor saw desperation, not confirmation.

"What gives you the right?" Roy asked. The stranger stepped into the center of the field. For the first time, his smile disappeared entirely.

"I am stronger than you. I understand what you possess. I am capable of taking responsibility where you are not."

"That is not a right."

"It is the only right that matters when weaker creatures endanger what they cannot control." Roy's fear deepened. Power did not merely allow him to take the hatchlings. In his mind, power made the taking morally white.

"You have eliminated every peaceful option," the visitor said.

"Remember that when this is finished. I did not come here to harm you. Whatever blood is shed will be the result of your refusal." He took one final step, and then he changed. The transformation began with his spine. His body arched as bone and muscle expanded beneath the human shape. The clean traveling coat split without tearing like cloth, dissolving into dark vapor as crimson scales forced their way across broadening shoulders. His arms lengthened and thickened. Fingers became black claws.

Sweeping horns curved back from a skull that stretched forward into a heavy, predatory muzzle. A pale armored underside formed beneath his throat and continued down an expanding chest. His body grew until it dominated the field. A long tail struck the earth behind him, scattering frozen soil. Broad leathery wings unfolded from his back, each one large enough to shadow the cabin as it extended. The dragon was not ancient.

Roy could see youth in the leaner lines of his frame and the imperfect proportions of muscle still growing toward its full strength. That distinction offered no comfort. A golden identification appeared. [Adolescent Red Dragon — Health: 100%.] Heat rolled from the dragon's body. The snow nearest his claws softened and began to steam. Magical pressure settled across the farm with enough force that Roy's knees threatened to bend. Every instinct he possessed told him to run.

Orion stood rigid several yards away, his face pale beneath the winter cold. The dragon watched them. He raised his head higher, spread his wings farther, and basked in their fear. Then the ground erupted beneath him. Shale struck from below like a launched stone. The Burrowback Drake tore through the concealed layer of frozen soil and drove his broad skull into the red dragon's underside. Earth and snow exploded around them.

The adolescent staggered, one hind leg ripped from beneath him as Shale's weight carried through the impact. His left wing snapped outward to restore balance. Shock flashed across the dragon's face as the hatchling attacked him. His counter came almost instantly. The red dragon twisted and brought one forelimb down across Shale's side. The blow lifted the Burrowback Drake from the ground and hurled him across the field. Shale struck a low packed mound shoulder-first, rolled once, and came to a stop in the snow.

He remained conscious. One foreleg buckled when he tried to rise, but he dragged it beneath himself and snarled. The dragon turned toward him, while a concealed opening broke apart beneath his extended wing. ─── 🐲 ─── Aurelia felt Shale's impact through the cavern walls, as did Nimbus. The Cloudbelly Drake trembled beneath Aurelia's hands. She had absorbed more water than ever before. Her swollen body filled most of the underground chamber, rounded and stretched until she was nearly the size of a wagon.

Her legs barely touched the floor. Each breath came shallowly, the pressure inside her body making even stillness uncomfortable. The firing tunnels branched away from the chamber in narrow reinforced lines. Shale had dug them, Roy had calculated the angles, and Clover's Greenbind sealed the cracks and weak joints so the packed earth would not split when Nimbus released the water. They had prepared several possible openings because no one could know exactly where the adversary would stand.

Now one had opened as a narrow line of daylight appeared ahead. Through it, Aurelia saw red scales and the broad membrane of an extended wing. Nimbus made a frightened sound. Aurelia pressed both palms to her side.

"You do not have to continue if you cannot," she whispered. Nimbus turned one wide eye toward her. The chamber shook again as something struck the ground above. Shale. Aurelia did not know how badly he had been hurt. She could not leave Nimbus to check.

"This is our chance," she said.

"Only if you choose it." Nimbus's body tightened beneath her hands, then she opened her mouth toward the firing tunnel. Water exploded forward. The tunnel captured the discharge and narrowed it, turning the enormous volume into a concentrated stream. The pressure struck the dragon's wing membrane hard enough to bow it outward. The red dragon roared, but the membrane did not tear. Nimbus pushed harder. Her entire body shuddered.

The swollen shape began shrinking almost immediately as water tore through the channel, but the release was too violent for her tissues to endure safely. Aurelia felt the first injury beneath her palm, then another. Blood vessels ruptured. Muscle strained around Nimbus's ribs. Her breath broke into ragged, frightened gasps while the high-pressure stream wavered. Golden light spread from Aurelia's hands. The Weave responded, but too slowly. She stabilized one injury as another formed deeper inside.

Nimbus was being hurt faster than Aurelia could tend to her. Nimbus continued, but the red wing remained whole. Aurelia wanted to pull her away, gather Nimbus in her arms, and accept whatever happened above rather than allow the drake to suffer for another heartbeat… But Nimbus had chosen. Shale had already attacked. Roy and Orion stood aboveground beneath a dragon that could destroy every building they possessed before anyone reached the tree line.

If Nimbus stopped now, the adolescent would fly, and the sacrifice would purchase nothing. A system message appeared through Aurelia's tears. [Skill Available: Crisis Care.] [Activate Skill?]"Yes!" The Weave surged through her. The gentle warmth of her Weave became a flood. Aurelia gasped as her reserve began draining. Golden light raced through Nimbus's damaged body, closing ruptures as they formed, reinforcing tissue for moments at a time before the pressure tore it again. It did not remove the pain.

Nimbus cried out around the stream. Aurelia braced herself against the drake's shrinking body and kept both hands pressed firmly to her scales.

"I have you," she said.

"Keep going. I have you!" The beam strengthened. Above them, the dragon's wing membrane deformed farther. Aurelia's Weave Reserve plunged. Nimbus trembled so violently that the tunnel walls shook with her. For several terrible seconds, nothing changed. Then the membrane split. The tear began as a dark line near the center of the wing. It raced outward with a violent snap, opening across the stretched surface as the water carved through. Blood and spray scattered into the daylight. Nimbus emptied.

Her body collapsed inward, shrinking from wagon-size to the small serpentine form Aurelia had first held after the bath. Nimbus sagged against the ground, limp and gasping. Aurelia scooped her up immediately, the system message blurred at the edge of her vision. [Skill Unlocked: Crisis Care.] Aurelia did not read anything else. She gathered Nimbus against her chest and hurried into the escape tunnel toward the barn, pouring the last of her usable Weave into the drake as she fled.

─── 🐲 ─── The red dragon's scream struck Roy like a physical blow. Water burst from beneath the field and scattered across the torn wing. The membrane opened from near the center to its outer edge, leaving one broad section hanging in ruined folds. The identification flickered. [Adolescent Red Dragon — Health: 95%.] Nimbus had emptied everything she carried. Shale had thrown his entire body into the ambush. The trap had cost them blood, pain, and nearly every advantage they had prepared.

And it only earned them five percent. The dragon tried to fold the wing, but it bent incorrectly and struck the frozen ground. The torn membrane sagged uselessly between the supporting bones, unable to catch the air. The dragon stared at the ruined limb, the smug certainty vanishing from his face. Roy understood the truth at the same moment the dragon did. He could not fly.