Together, Gertha and I had wandered through the dense forest north by northwest for the rest of the day until the beginnings of darkness crept in like a drunkard trying not to wake their family. The trees here were old, untouched by human hands, but the telltale ancient claw marks from various juvenile Dragonkind telegraphed that this was not any part of our Kingdom, or even the domains of man.

  No, here be Dragons, Wyrms and Drakes. Let’s hope they were off terrorising one of the outer towns. I knew Southwood hadn’t been hit for a while; maybe it was their turn. As for me, I’d had my fill of the scaled bastards, and we hadn’t a Serf’s chance of surviving the next attack. Except for Gertha, maybe with her strange coin sucking abilities.

  I looked around, clutching the egg like a babe in my arms. It was warmer than usual, but that could have been because the evening cold was beginning to set in. There was a moist taste to the air. The air itself was heavy and oddly thick. I turned to Gertha, who was tapping the coin against her teeth. I’d learned in our very brief time together that this was a sign that she would say something.

  “We should make camp here, Tullen. If we carry on in the darkness, we’ll lose our bearings.” She tapped the coin a few more times before storing it in her cheek, giving her the appearance of someone chewing hasteroot. I smirked. All she needed now was a metal bucket to spit it in and a straw hat.

  “Good idea, I don’t fancy being grabbed unawares from the trees,” I said.

  “Oh, really? So you’re not the courting type then?” Gertha quipped, and I barked a laugh. I’d only just met this Fizzmouth, and her powers made not an ounce of sense to me, but she was a good travel companion, I’d give her that for free.

  “Not many women out there would take to a bloke with my particular skin condition.” I smiled, thinking of Jillegh, whom I hadn’t dared to do more than frequent her stall and never had a chance to say goodbye to, which was probably for the best. The man who bought beef from you occasionally and asked how your day was going, suddenly saying a heartfelt goodbye would be as daft as it would be pathetic.

  “You’re not all bad, at least you have your own teeth.” Gertha grinned.

  I felt a pang in my chest, yes, I was thinking of that rotten-toothed fool Ulther again; he’d been a decent friend, if only you’d got to know him.

  “Even men without teeth have something to offer sometimes,” I said, my vision zoning out as I focused on a spot in the distance.

  “Oh, stop being so bloody melodramatic, Tullen. Shall we make this camp or keep honking away like two old women?”

  “Don’t you mean peers of yours?” I laughed.

  “Ah! There’s hope for him yet!” She exclaimed.

  I sniffed and looked around. We were quite exposed here. You’d think the dense forest would give you plenty of cover, except it was home to countless different variants of scaled, sometimes winged ambush predators, which were each more pissy in attitude than the last.

  “There isn’t much camp to make Gertha, we don’t have any food, but we could bundle some clothing and huddle close for warmth, the egg gives off some heat and wait til daylight.” I rubbed, stuck my spear in the ground, blade first. Peevan would have told me off for that; you’d tarnish your blade or risk cutting yourself and getting an infection. I liked to think that if I gave a Wyrm an infection, it might eventually die of it long after it had shit me out.

  “You have a bow, don’t you? We have about an hour before the light fades. Maybe you can snag us a rabbit? I’ll make a fire for it,” she smiled pleasantly.

  Sweat beaded on my brow, and I felt my cheeks colour.

  “I’m uh…crap with a bow,” I said, wincing as the words came out. I always felt stupid when I had to demonstrate any skill with a bow. I wish people could ask me to demonstrate my complete and utter mastery of the sword instead, but I figured Gertha had seen enough of that.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, I know how to draw, anchor and loose. It’s just the aiming bit I seem to be off.”

  “Tullen, you’re a String Guard. You’re literally supposed to guard the walls. With a bow and arrow.” She mimed the action of drawing a bow and arrow, but she drew her imaginary weapon back way too far for it to be effective. I didn’t have a leg to stand on right now, though, so I didn’t point this out.

  “I never asked to be one; it was that or death. So really, you should be outraged at our judicial system,” I said, quite pleased with my excuse. After all, it wasn’t my fault I was made to be a String Guard. You might come at me explaining that it was by killing a blademaster with a sword that I left myself open to punishment, but they had it coming to them.

  “I am. That’s why I ran off with you.” She shook her head, amused but also clearly annoyed. I understood completely. I was always miserable if I was too hungry.

  “Can’t you do something with your…” I wiggled my hands in the air and mimicked the sound of distant sobbing that always seemed to accent the use of her powers. I immediately regretted it because her face fell, and she let out a shaky breath as her shoulders slumped.

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  “Please…don’t joke about that, Tullen, you aren’t to blame for not knowing. But my powers aren’t a joking matter.” I felt ashamed in that moment, just like me to go and stick my foot in my big, stupid mouth.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be an arse.” I drummed my fingers on the egg as I shifted my feet.

  She looked at me, a small hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

  “You can make it up to me by bringing me a rabbit.” Her eyes gleamed with playful wickedness, and I rolled mine in return.

  “I’d have better luck trying to punch one out of the ground,” I grumbled.

  “It’s either that or we eat the egg; we’d be full for a few days, I’d bet," she said. I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, but something fierce rose in my heart and for a brief second, I considered drawing my blade. I shook my head, casting the dark thought out of my head. Perhaps I was hungrier than I thought.

  “The egg isn’t for eating,” I said simply.

  “Why are you carrying it around then? Do you have velum sheets you wish to keep from flying away in the wind? Or maybe some old spell tomes you want to prop up on a shelf hidden in your tunic?” She scoffed, laughing at me in the way a parent might tease a child.

  I think mine did that sometimes.

  “I dunno, I just…I like it. It’s warm, it’s fragile, and it needs me to keep it whole.”

  Gertha threw her hands up in the air in an exaggerated display of exasperation, “He’s bonded with an egg, for Serf’s sake.”

  “I’ll get us a rabbit, alright? Quit your whinging.” I turned to put the egg down on a patch of grass at the bottom of the tree. I held it in both my hands as I lowered it down, when heat seemed to bloom from within it. It didn’t burn, but it felt more like holding a freshly poured bowl of soup. I laid it on the grass when, suddenly, the egg cracked. I darted backwards, shocked as Gertha suddenly swore and grabbed my shoulder.

  “Tullen, it’s bloody hatching!” she hissed.

  “I can see that, Gertha! Get off me!”

  “I hope for both our sakes its mother doesn’t know where it is!” She released my shoulder, and I felt where her fingers had been still. She could crush walnuts with those hands if she wanted to, I’d bet.

  The egg shifted and wobbled as whatever was inside started to squirm. I watched, my heart racing as the tip of a black scaled snout pushed its way clear of the eggshell. Small shards fell noiselessly to the ground as the snout suddenly retreated, causing the egg to shake and wobble before settling.

  “There’s one of them scaled bastards in there, Tullen!”

  “Well, a baby bastard, it won’t be a problem,” I said, taking deep breaths and calming my heartbeat.

  “You’ll have to kill it,” she said quickly, putting another coin in her mouth. She was wide-eyed, succumbing to her panic.

  “Calm yourself, it’s a hatchling and nowhere near big enough to eat or wound us. Stay behind me,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm. It worked, and Gertha took a step behind me, keeping her eyes locked on the egg.

  There was silence for a few moments before a delicate little purple tongue flicked out of the hole in the egg, feeling around the shell and seeming to taste the air. The egg rolled onto its side, knocking against the tree, causing both Gertha and me to jump out of our skin with the sudden movement.

  We both took a step further, Gertha holding onto my off hand while I drew my blade, not for violent intent, mind. I just wanted to be ready just in case. I’d never come across a scaled creature that didn’t try to rip me apart or stuff me down its gullet, so I think a little caution was warranted, don’t you?

  I heard a scraping noise as tiny claws within the shell scraped against the egg's surface, causing it to rock back and forth like a tiny oval boat bobbing on the waves. The movement suddenly stopped, and a small, mournful squeaking pierced the tense silence. I’m not a soft man by any stretch of the imagination, but something in me shifted in that moment. I crouched beside the egg, which had started rocking again, and I could see the little snout trying to break part of the shell away.

  “I got you, just don’t bite me, okay?” I said in a low, hushed voice. The voice I used with dogs and cats whenever they got antsy around me. The creature inside the egg shifted, coiling around, and then an eye suddenly opened at the egg's crack.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t breathe. The eye looking at me was yellow around the edges, with a vertical black slit for a pupil. We stared at each other for a few seconds before the slit opened wide into a deep black circle. A shiver ran through me, and I felt a tingling in the middle of my chest and up the back of my neck. It was more potent than my feeling of closeness with the egg, and a warmth exploded in my heart I hadn’t felt for a long time, if ever.

  I couldn’t leave such a little thing in there. I placed my blade against the tree, then gently picked up the egg, not taking my eyes off the eye staring back at me, and I sat cross-legged on the ground.

  “What are you doing, Tullen!?” Gertha asked as if I had decided to just run naked at the Lindwyrm from earlier.

  “I got this, Gertha. Trust me.” I don’t know why I was so certain in that moment, but I knew I had to see this through, to explore this new set of circumstances.

  I slowly extended my hand toward the gap in the egg; the eye within blinked slowly at me, which made me smile. With my thumb and forefinger, I grabbed a piece of shell and snapped it, then another, and another.

  After the first few breaks, the creature within, about the size of a large housecat, was able to shake itself free. Shards and pieces of shell fell all across my lap as Gertha bit her fist to stifle a squeal.

  “Well, look at you, gorgeous thing,” I said, breathless.

  The black scaled snout I’d seen belonged to a slim, arrow-shaped head. Two golden eyes gazed deep into mine, as a scaled frill around the back of its head opened and closed, the bony supports within tipped with shining black tips of horn. It had a long, slender neck that reminded me of a swan that sprouted from a broad and deep chest. Around the chest were wrapped its wings, which were black as midnight. It slowly unfurled its wings as it elongated its neck and opened its mouth, calling into the night's sky with a long, high-pitched squeak. It wailed into the sky, and that’s when two things hit me at once.

  This Dragon only had two legs, and its breath smelled like an arse that had been dead for half a year.

  “Tullen…this can’t exist, it’s not possible, it’s bloody, it’s a…” Gertha stammered

  A tear fell from my eye as I touched the mark of shame underneath it.

  “You were sent by fate,” I said softly.

  The Black Wyvern standing on my lap waddled over to my face and placed its head against mine; it made a constant soft rumbling noise.

  I let out a shaky breath and cradled the impossible creature, while it licked the tears from my cheeks with its rough, forked tongue.