Recovered

By Jen Booth

“Remember when we took that egg?” Granpapa leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes closed in a grimace. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

Jani swallowed the ache in her throat. “That was some adventure.”

Every spring, just as the raspberries began to redden, Grandpapa’s mind would slip into these fanciful waking dreams. He’d captained a merchant ship for thirty years and saw every wonder of the world. Until his mind began to fail. Seasonal madness, the healers called it. It always faded as summer’s heat set in, and he came back to himself—but each year, she feared he’d remain stuck in his delusions.

As her gaze traced the still-square set of his jaw, memories of his strong arms lifting her onto his shoulders flooded her mind and tore her heart.

Granpapa shifted and grimaced again.

“Does your head hurt?” Jani knelt beside him and took his hand.

“Been worse.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “It was asinine of us, stealing from a sentient. Thinking we could change the future.”

His grave tone sent shivers over her arms.

He smiled wistfully. “Maybe we still can. We almost didn’t make it out of the cave, though, did we? If you hadn’t caught me when I bashed my head against the stone…”

Jani’s eyes wandered to the scar above his right brow, the one he’d said was from a brutal fight with river pirates. Granpapa cracked open his eyes, focusing their blue depths on her as if seeing her for the first time.

“Jani?”

Hot tears burned her nose, but she forced a smile. “Hey.”

The start of a smile twisted into an expression of fear as clarity began to register in his face. “It’s the end of spring. Twenty springs.”

“What about it?” she asked, dreading what he’d say.

“It’s hatching season.” He was slipping back into his pretend world.

She wiped a tear and tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight.

“You must get away from here.”

Jani gently removed her hand. “Now, why would I leave you?”

“Because a dragon’s egg has to hatch by the twentieth spring.”

“Then it’s good we do not have one.” She bit her tongue to stop more tears.

He shook his head. “They’re searching. Every year.”

She shuddered. Granpapa wasn’t only a captain. He was a seer, though he neglected his gifting. Jani never forgot hers—even during the years she was bound to the effects of kellweed, when she was little more than a waif. But she’d never sensed the visions his madness created. She’d just go along with it, like always.

“We’ll tell them you are sorry and give it back.”

“No!” His chest rose and fell quickly, until he was panting.

Jani bit her lips. Oh please, please come back! You’re all I have left. He was the only one who never gave up on her, who gave her the courage to reclaim her life from the kellweed. If only she could help him now.

His expression hardened, as if he fought through the fog. “Go to my chest and open it. Stretch your mind for a vision.”

She obeyed against her better judgment, stumbling to the chest at the foot of his bed.

“Black dragons won’t stop,” he said.

Poor Granpapa. Everyone in the northern lands feared the corrupt black dragons and the devastation they wrought. A dragon could fill a warrior’s soul with fear so great, he lost all ability to reason. Few survived them.

Jani saw no point in this, but she sighed and lifted the lid. Inside the chest, Granpapa’s old captain’s jacket lay folded against a wooden box. It rocked as if something was alive inside.

Jani’s breath caught in her throat, and cold pinpricks traveled her skin. Her fingers trembled as she unlatched the box and dared to peek inside. A black, egg-shaped jewel the size of her hand pulsed with the same energy she’d felt in previous visions.

But this was no vision.

She laid her hand against the smooth surface, and the atmosphere around her morphed and twisted. Another plane beckoned, where a seer perceived the unseen. Jani stood in a vast green valley, while a little black dragon sat atop her shoulder, playing with her hair.

The vision morphed again… Dark wings, silhouetted in moonlight, unfurled as a monstrous form dove toward their little house, fire blazing from between its dagger teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the vision away, steadying her breaths until it passed.

Beneath the pressure of her touch, the egg shivered, then cracked, and a shiny black head burst through. Its golden eyes locked with hers immediately, overwhelming her senses and sealing a bond she could not resist.

She clutched the creature to her chest, slime and shell, and bolted to Granpapa’s side. He was standing, all traces of madness erased. She stared at him, bereft of words.

The tiny dragon shook off the last of its shell and snuggled under Jani’s chin. A protective urge overwhelmed her.

Granpapa watched her with a sad smile. “So innocent. Not yet corrupted by its kind. It has a chance to know a good life, maybe fight on our side.”

This baby would know only darkness and death if raised with its kin—unlike her, who knew a life of love, yet rejected it for too long. All her life was a series of choices, both good and bad. This creature deserved the same opportunities.

“Granpapa—”

A roar split her consciousness, breaking through her seer’s mind and filling her with terror. Granpapa’s eyes widened.

“This wasn’t supposed to be your burden,” he said, voice thick. “But you have a chance to change the world.”

Change the world? She’d failed everyone she loved. She couldn’t do this. As if understanding, the dragon snuggled closer, purring. Jani’s heart thrummed.

Grandpapa cupped her chin. “You are stronger than you know.”

Another roar, far away and closing in. Granpapa let go.

“Run.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jen Booth is an author, wife, and mother who lives among the rolling hills and lazy bayous of north Louisiana. She believes that through stories, we find hope and courage—and maybe a glimpse of who we are meant to be. When not writing or homeschooling her children, Jen can be found outdoors, usually with her family, and often dreaming of dragons.

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