Chapter 60 — Thunder Is Born

Chapter 60: Chapter 60 — Thunder Is Born

Chapter 60 — Thunder Is Born

Christopher’s last morning without a dragon began with Godfrey knocking him into the mud. Around them, Walter and Ivo drilled the Knight Apprentices.

Christopher recovered his wooden sword. "You know I have plans today."

"The dragon will wait until breakfast."

"Can you prepare someone for Dragon Prestige?" Christopher asked.

Godfrey lowered his blade. "No."

"There is nothing you can teach me?"

"I can teach you to breathe while afraid. I can strike you until pain stops surprising you. Neither becomes a dragon."

"The records show candidates kneeling," Christopher said.

"Then kneel if your legs fail. The test is whether you remain yourself, not whether you impress a drawing."

That was easier advice to understand than to follow.

Godfrey attacked again, and they continued until the breakfast bell.

After breakfast, Walter began Meg’s first regular session while Bram continued his exercises under Godfrey. Christopher approved the morning work orders, then prepared to enter the buried bastion.

Near midday, Christopher and Godfrey entered the buried bastion. Mabel waited in the outer command room with bandages, burn salve and a shock restorative. Owen and Bennet waited beyond the second door. The nursery was ready.

Walter gave Godfrey the military storage ring holding the sling, water, rope, provisions and the quartered magical deer.

"If you do not return by tomorrow morning?" Walter asked.

"Keep the entrance closed," Godfrey said. "Wait until midday. Then open it with the prepared crystal and do not pass the mountain platform unless Christopher answers."

Walter looked at Christopher.

"Same order," Christopher said.

He and Godfrey crossed the portal alone.

The small plane’s mountain air was clear. They rode to the Knight castle with the food and equipment inside the ring.

Inside the nursery, the smooth nest stones had been washed and dried. Water filled the basins. The outer feeding gate stood open toward the terrace and valley.

Godfrey laid the magical deer on the feeding-room table. "If it wants seasoning, it can ask."

Christopher laughed despite himself.

Godfrey checked the doors and the open route to the terrace. "If it turns on you, I intervene."

"Do what you must," Christopher said. "Try to keep both of us alive."

They entered the egg chamber.

Christopher had crossed the room many times during the preparations, but with the sling waiting beside the Lightning egg’s platform and fresh meat laid out in the next chamber, it no longer felt like an archive. The sealed presence before him was about to become alive, hungry and free.

The other six eggs remained sealed. Fire glowed beneath red shell, frost misted around Ice, and the two Iron eggs pressed heavily against their supports. Gold reflected stray light while Ruby held a deep warmth.

The egg responded when Christopher approached.

Pale lines brightened across its dark shell. A faint vibration travelled through the floor.

Christopher used Dragon Eyes. The seal remained stable, its channels running beneath the platform and toward the waiting nursery. The ancient builders had made a direct path between the platform and the nursery.

He placed the new leather sling beside the platform.

"Once I use blood, the seal releases," he said. "We carry it to the nest. The records do not give an exact hatching time."

"Will it take minutes or hours?"

"The records allow for either."

"That record could be more useful."

Godfrey walked once around the platform. "It will see your potential."

"And my bloodline," Christopher said. "We will learn which matters more."

Godfrey rested one hand on his sword. He wore the plain magical armor from the castle stores beneath a dark cloak.

"If it rejects you, we still care for it," Godfrey said.

Christopher nodded. The others had never agreed to face a dragon. He would make no choice for them.

Christopher flexed the hand that had once lain in a pool of blood on the training-room floor. The wounds were gone, but he remembered opening unfamiliar eyes and refusing to let them close again. Whatever waited inside the egg would either find that refusal worthy or it would not.

Christopher drew his father’s small belt knife. He had considered using the Dragon Lance room’s tools, then decided a clean blade was a clean blade. He washed his left hand, dried it and opened a shallow cut across one fingertip.

Blood welled.

Godfrey watched the egg, the exits and Christopher. The veteran Silver Knight had never faced a newborn dragon, yet he stood close enough to intervene.

Christopher remembered waking in the blood left by the failed breakthrough. The dragon would see the scars of an awakening he had survived.

He pressed the drop of blood into the seal.

The platform answered. Light ran around the Lightning egg in one complete circle, and the blood vanished into the stone. A sound like a distant drum moved beneath the floor.

Layers of pale light lifted from the shell and dissolved into the air. The egg settled against the platform.

Godfrey touched it first.

"Warm," he said.

Christopher placed both palms against the shell. A slow, heavy pulse answered from within.

They worked the sling beneath the egg. It weighed less than the Iron eggs looked and more than a man. Godfrey carried most of it; Christopher held the forward loops and guided them through the passage.

The moment the egg crossed into the nursery, every hair on Christopher’s arms rose.

The copper-colored channels around the nest flashed once.

Outside, the clear sky darkened at the horizon.

They lowered the egg among the smooth black stones. Pale lines spread across the nest, matching the branches on the shell.

The room filled with the smell of rain.

Christopher stepped back.

Above the castle, the first thunder rolled through a sky that had held no clouds minutes earlier.

Something alive inside the egg struck the shell from within.

The shell cracked from within. A dark, uneven line opened near the top of the egg.

Christopher forgot to breathe.

Godfrey caught his shoulder and drew him three steps away from the nest. "Give it room."

The egg moved among the black stones. Copper-colored channels around the nursery brightened, carrying blue-white light toward the walls. Somewhere above them, ancient mechanisms groaned awake.

Wind entered through the open terrace gate, carrying the smell of wet stone and distant rain.

Outside, clouds gathered over the Knight castle in a tightening circle. They had not crossed the horizon naturally. Grey masses formed from clear air, layer upon layer, until the sun disappeared.

Thunder rolled across the valley.

Beyond the nursery, deer fled toward the southern trees, rhinoceroses gathered around their calves and distant wyrms turned away from the castle.

The world knew something was being born.

Lightning struck the tallest nursery tower. Runes flashed across the roof spire, and white fire ran beneath the egg.

The shell answered from within. A web of cracks crossed one side. One fragment lifted, fell back and lifted again. A small dark claw pushed through, each curved talon longer than Christopher’s finger.

The hatchling tore downward. A narrow head emerged beneath two backward-sweeping horns.

Another bolt struck the tower.

The dragon opened its eyes.

They were blue-white with narrow black pupils, light moving behind them like lightning trapped beyond glass.

Fear arrived first, cold and immediate, but awe rose through it. The wet, unsteady creature pulling herself from the shell was a true dragon. Wyrms fled from her birth storm before she had taken her first full breath.

Beside him, Godfrey whispered something beneath the thunder. The Silver Knight’s face held the same wonder Christopher felt.

Dragon Prestige filled the room.

Christopher’s lungs stopped working. The pressure entered through instinct. Something older than thought ordered him to lower his head and submit.

His knees struck stone.

Godfrey remained standing for two breaths. His hand closed around his sword, but he did not draw. On the third breath, one knee bent, and the magical armor across his shoulders gave a faint grey flash.

Godfrey fought the command to submit because Christopher was beside her.

The hatchling pulled one wing free. Its body was the size of a large hunting hound, not counting a tail still trapped in the egg. Wet scales appeared nearly black until lightning crossed them and revealed deep blue beneath. Pale lines ran from its eyes along its neck.

Christopher forced air into his chest.

The Prestige grew stronger. Blood warmed his nose. His arms shook when he tried to rise.

The dragon fixed its eyes on him. Its gaze changed.

Color appeared around Christopher through eyes that possessed the same ancient gift as his own. He could not see what the dragon saw, but he felt its first reaction clearly.

Disappointment struck him when the dragon saw his Green potential. The creature had awakened to find a rider with ordinary potential.

Then its attention moved deeper. It saw the awakened bloodline in Christopher’s eyes, heart and bones, and surprise passed through the pressure.

From its perspective, the weak human had survived.

Christopher tried to lift his head. The Prestige demanded that he lower it. He raised it anyway, an inch at a time, until he could meet the dragon’s eyes.

Pain throbbed behind his forehead. His vision narrowed. He remained conscious.

Disappointment remained, but interest joined it. The dragon found weak talent, awakened blood and a will stronger than the body carrying it.

The hatchling broke the remaining shell, unfolded its second wing and stood unsteadily.

For several breaths, dragon and human watched one another while thunder shook the castle.

Godfrey spoke through clenched teeth. "Christopher."

Christopher moved one hand from the floor and placed it on his raised knee. His body wanted to collapse. He stayed where he was.

The dragon stepped from the shell. Static snapped between its claws and the stones. It approached without hurry, head level with Christopher’s chest while he knelt. At that distance, its eyes were larger than his palms.

Godfrey’s sword moved half an inch inside its sheath. The dragon glanced at him, and its Prestige struck sideways.

Godfrey dropped to one knee but kept his hand on the sword. The dragon felt no fear from him, only the readiness to die fighting if Christopher was attacked.

That earned a different flicker of interest.

It returned its attention to Christopher. The hatchling stepped closer and lowered its head until the horns above its brow nearly touched his face. Christopher felt caution beneath its pride.

The hatchling touched its forehead to Christopher’s.

The room disappeared beneath thunder.

Christopher felt another soul. Pride, storm, hunger and curiosity pressed against him. Images of sky and wings vanished before he could grasp them. The dragon touched his grief, fear and attachment to the people beyond the room, while his memories remained closed.

The contact deepened.

The dragon’s invitation carried pride rather than warmth. She found him weak in talent and strangely stubborn.

Christopher almost laughed at the possessiveness of a creature less than a minute old.

His amusement crossed the contact.

Offense flashed back, bright and immediate.

That was the first emotion between them that felt almost like conversation.

Christopher accepted.

Pain drove through his chest without leaving a wound. A line of thunder ran from his heart through every limb. His Black Iron Knight Essence surged out of rhythm, scattered and gathered again around a second presence.

The dragon cried out, high and furious. Lightning burst across the nursery channels, and blue-white arcs struck every metal surface in the room.

Outside, the storm broke.

Rain crossed the valley in a silver wall. Lightning struck the old spires, and the Knight castle’s windows flashed with reflected storm light.

Christopher felt the dragon’s fear beneath its anger and answered with steadiness. Her panic stopped expanding.

In return, some of its pride entered Christopher — not as an order, but as a conviction that kneeling forever was unacceptable.

He pushed one foot beneath him.

Godfrey said something he could not hear.

Christopher stood.

His legs nearly failed. The dragon leaned against his chest, claws catching on his tunic. He held its shoulders without trying to restrain it.

The final line of the contract settled between their hearts.

The Prestige changed. Christopher still felt the immense natural presence before him, but it no longer demanded submission. His soul recognized its source as joined to his own.

The hatchling pulled its head back while pale lightning moved beneath her dark scales.

"Thunder," Christopher said.

He sent the name through their new bond with the sound of the storm and the image of lightning crossing the mountains.

The hatchling considered it. Pride and approval returned through the bond.

Thunder. Her name.

A thought entered Christopher’s mind with deliberate shape.

Hungry.

Christopher laughed once, partly from relief. "We prepared for that."

Godfrey rose slowly. "It can speak?"

The dragon turned its eyes on him, then sent Christopher another impression.

Armored one. Loud metal. Acceptable.

"It has opinions," Christopher said.

The hatchling turned to the broken shell, crushed a glowing fragment between narrow teeth and began eating. Each piece dimmed as it disappeared. Mana spread along the pale lines in her scales.

Christopher remained beside the nest. Through the bond he felt hunger easing but not ending. The shell restored something deeper than an empty stomach.

When the last edible fragment was gone, the dragon lifted its head and turned toward the feeding room. The smell of blood had reached it.

She crossed half the nursery with her wings spread for balance. Godfrey stepped aside.

The dragon found the magical deer on the stone table and stopped.

Christopher felt approval.

"Raw was correct," Godfrey said.

"Do not sound pleased."

The dragon bit through the deer’s ribs.

Through the bond, Christopher felt her satisfaction and the certainty that the offered food belonged to her. Some of that certainty leaked into him. He looked around the ancient room and felt, for one unreasonable instant, that the entire castle, valley and sky were his by right.

Christopher recognized the thought and pushed it aside.

The dragon paused over the carcass. Amusement touched the bond.

It had noticed.

Christopher sent back the memoryless impression of a hand closing a lid.

Not everything you feel becomes something I do.

The dragon answered with pride sharpened into challenge. Their minds were learning the shape of one another.

Godfrey watched them both. "Are you arguing already?"

"I think we are."

"Which of you is winning?"

The dragon tore another piece from the deer and sent Christopher absolute certainty.

"She believes she is."

Godfrey finally removed his hand from his sword and crossed to Christopher, checking his eyes, pulse and the blood beneath his nose. The dragon stopped eating long enough to watch every movement, and suspicion travelled through the bond when Godfrey touched Christopher’s wrist.

He protects me, Christopher sent.

Reluctant recognition came through the bond. The dragon remembered Godfrey standing beside Christopher beneath her Prestige and accepted the armored man’s touch.

"Pulse is fast," Godfrey said. "Your eyes are brighter."

Christopher checked the polished metal plate beside the basin. His pupils remained crimson slits, but pale blue light now moved around their edges before fading.

"Is that change temporary?"

"You’re asking the wrong person."

The dragon returned to eating. Christopher stepped away and still sensed her appetite, alertness and pride. He attempted to think a deliberate word.

Can you hear me?

The dragon lifted one wing without looking back.

Obviously.

The response carried so much offended certainty that Christopher smiled.

Outside, the violent rain began to soften. The clouds remained over the castle, but the lightning moved farther into the valley. Thunder answered from ridge to ridge.

The birth storm had announced the dragon to every creature inside the small plane. Beyond the sealed portal, the mortal world remained unaware.

Christopher touched the blood beneath his nose and studied the creature eating in front of him.

His Knight Essence remained at Black Iron, raw and unsettled after the joining. His body hurt, and another set of emotions pressed against the edges of his own.

He was no longer alone inside himself.

Thunder lowered her head toward the deer again. Her blue-white eyes remained proud and alert.

Across the bond came one final feeling before she returned to her meal.

Mine.

Christopher felt his own answer rise, carrying more of her pride than he would have used an hour earlier.

Ours.