Page 3 of Redeeming the Dragon

Having no choice, I continued to work. My shoulders slumped after my third trip to the barn. I set down the brimming buckets with a thump, straightening to loosen the kinks in my back and wipe the sweat off my brow. A heavy humidity, one that felt unnatural for early morning, was settling over the island, reminding me of a blanket draped over a sleeper. Just as heavy. Just as thick. It was sucking the energy directly from me. I could have sworn my lungs felt tighter, as though the thickness of the air hampered breathing. If not for the restless wind tugging at my clothes, the mugginess would have been unbearable.

This feels very, very wrong.

Even as I thought the words, I heard a shout from the house. Whipping my head towards it, I saw Neena on the covered porch. The breeze strummed the wind chimes and twisted her skirts. She cupped her hands around her mouth as she shouted,

“Lorna! Mama says to make haste. The storm draws on apace.”

I opened my mouth to shout back. Even as I did, my gaze flickered up, arrested by the first hint of clouds rolling in from the direction of the sea. Was it my imagination, or were they shaped like giant wings?

Whatever their shape, there was no mistaking their eerie green color.

Rather than argue with my sister, as I might have done otherwise, I shouted back, “Tell Mama I’ll be there soon.”

I should not have doubted my mother. She was right. She was always right. Stooping, I grasped the heavy buckets, nudged the door open with my foot, and hastened into the barn.

A frustrated whinny greeted me. I saw Nels, our bay mare, straining against the rope. Her huge, brown eyes rolled with anxiety.

“It’s alright, Nels,” I said. “You’re safe in here. I’ll free you to graze once the storm has passed.”

I spoke even as I hurried to dump the feed into the goat’s trough, then the cow’s manger. My usual routine was to spend time with the livestock, offering pets and small talk, enjoying the warmth of the barn and the smells of hay and beasts. Today, I barely had time for a brief pat to each animal, with an extra pat for poor Nels, whose whickering had intensified as the storm rolled in. Outside, I could hear the wind sighing around the corners of the barn, urging me to make haste.

“You’ll be safe,” I vowed to my pets. I dropped the buckets beside the door and hurried out, pausing to bolt it behind me. I breathed a prayer that I was not lying to the poor creatures, then turned to run back to the cottage.

“Light preserve us,” I whispered, lifting my hand to shade my eyes.

Frozen, I gazed in shock at the mazes of red-gold lightning that, off in the distance, leapt from green cloud to green cloud, or rolled through the clouds’ underbellies. A distant peal of thunder. And in the thunder—a screech? A scream?

You’re imagining things, Lorna.

I was not imagining the peculiar wing-shaped front of the storm, nor the fact that a colossal squall was bearing down on our island. Deep in my body, from inside my bones, I felt a peculiar pain. A mixture of ache and sizzle. The sensation coursed through my being, causing me to blink in shock. A warning? A premonition?

“Lorna! Hurry!”

This time, Mama herself had emerged onto the porch. The sight of her scarlet skirts, flaming bright against the darkness enveloping the island, pricked my sanity. Forcing my feet into action, I ran for the house.

Chapter 2

The storm broke with a sudden vengeance. Throughout my nineteen years, I had witnessed many a gale, some fiercer than others. I’d never witnessed a storm such as this.

“It sounds as if legions of Dragonkind have flown in to attack,” groaned Marisa, who huddled in Mama’s old rocker, her hands pressed over her ears.

I resisted the urge to follow her example. The fiendish winds were piercing, keening, screeching, yowling. As I stood at the closed shutters, peering out between the cracks, my gaze was riveted to the glimpses of swirling colors beyond the window. What storm had flashes of copper and gold, rather than natural bright lightning? What clouds sparkled with a fierce greenish hue—actually sparkled, the emerald glow lit by trillions of cold raindrops?

“Lorna, come away from that window!” Mama hissed as if just having noticed where I’d placed myself.

Even as she spoke, a stern bellow of thunder preluded the crackle of lightning. I witnessed the giant tesia tree in our yard, which hadstood guard for centuries between our home plot and the beach, being struck by green-red lightning. I jumped in horror as the grand old tree was split in half. The crack reverberated throughout our small cottage, shaking its walls.

“Was that the house?” Neena cried. “Have we been hit?”

“No, it was the tesia tree,” I answered, spinning from the window and retreating to the center of the room, where Mama sat before the woodstove, trying to gain strength and solace from its cheery flames.

“What?”

The noise of the storm had hidden my words.

“The tesia tree was struck,” I nearly shouted, dropping to my knees beside my mother.

Mama’s head whipped around and she gave me a dark frown. “Don’t shout, Lorna. The extra noise is unneeded.”

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