THE MOUNTAIN TREMBLED with the force of its contractions. Shuddering beneath a blanket of ash, it expelled dark plumes of smoke with violent, irregular thrusts. They rose, feeding the clouds that eclipsed the sun. Rolling waves of heat blurred the line between summit and sky, and a steady quake rumbled down the mountain to my door. It was preparing for the Rebirth.
The week before Ashton was born, I felt as the mountain feels now. But the hopeful hardening in my belly was a bit less patient. Every day for a week I visited the midwife, certain that my girl was coming. She laughed at my inexperience, my panic at false labour. Told me to trust my body and let it get ready in peace. I would know when it was time, and then she would come to me. She was right, of course.
“It’s time,” Ashton announced, turning from the window.
“Not yet.”
“The smoke is getting thicker. The mountain’s shaking. It’s coming.” Sixteen knows everything.
“I’ll know when it’s time. And then I will go.”
“Then we’ll go.” She ran a hand over the leather sheath at her hip, tossing her tangled mess of black hair. She can barely wield a comb—I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to do with that knife. But it was her Daddy’s, and I don’t have the heart to take it from her.
“Yes, but you are only there to watch. You’ll need to explain the process to your daughter, just as I have begun to explain it to you. Except you will learn firsthand, so that you may breathe new life into the old teachings. You’ll resurrect the ancient knowledge.” I hate that part. I want her to stay home, where it’s safe. But if she doesn’t go, home can’t stay safe.
“That’s just it.” Her golden eyes narrowed. “It’s ancient knowledge. The Phoenix hasn’t been reborn in almost a thousand years. How do you even know that you’re going to do it right?”
“I have a millennium of wisdom at my fingertips, passed down from the women of our family. I will ‘do it right.’ You just be ready to do your part.”
Doubt crossed her face, summoning the spectre of her father.
I WAS STILL in bed when the pounding started. I yawned and stretched, listening as it progressed from agitated to furious to downright wrathful. When it passed the point of knocking and escalated to total house assault, Ashton poked me.
“Are you going to get that?”
“I suppose.” I dressed, since one must be respectable for gentleman callers. I made a pot of tea, since one must be hospitable to guests. I tidied up a bit, since one must be neat for company. All social rules thusly observed, I opened the door.
Bradley, my nearest and sweatiest neighbour, stood with his fist raised, perilously close to knocking on my nose. He stopped just in time, dropping an ungraceful hand to his side.
“Bradley.” I smiled. “Do come in and have some tea. Knocking is such thirsty work. You must be exhausted.”
He followed me into the house and attempted to dominate my poor kitchen, chest puffed out and legs spread wide. Ready to lay down the law.
“Bryn,” he growled. “It’s high time you did your job.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You Rebirthers have lived off the work of our people for hundreds of years. You are taken care of, with no other expectation than that you do your job when it’s time. So do your job. Bring back the Phoenix.”
“When it is time, the Phoenix will be reborn. She’s not ready yet.”
“You better get her ready then.” He stepped forward, crowding me with affected menace. More sad than intimidating. More smelly than daunting. He can’t do anything to me, he needs me too much. So he rants, “In case you haven’t noticed, the dragonlings are encroaching on our lands. They decimated my cattle last night. You need to bring back the Phoenix, so that she can rid us of these monsters.”
“In time, Bradley. They haven’t even come into their fire yet. Is that all?”
“No, it’s not. Look!” he shouted, pointing to the window.
With unfortunate timing, a dragonling descended upon my last remaining sheep. I could only watch as its glossy black body subdued the bit of white fluff. The creature rolled her to her back, ripping her belly open with jagged talons. The entrails were torn from her body in time to the plaintive death bleats. A red rain splattered the window.
“Oh.” Ashton swayed on her feet behind me. “Is that what happens?” She turned white and crumpled into her chair. I swung her away from the window and pushed her head between her knees.
“Breathe, Ashton,” I whispered, rubbing her temples.
I wanted to kick Bradley out. But I couldn’t very well do that with the beast outside, so we waited in silence for it to move on. Well, Ashton and I waited in silence, our guest spent his stay alternating between mumbled grievances and prayers.
Once the shadow kissed the treetops goodbye and the yard was empty save a few red drops on the grass, I kicked Bradley out. It took a while, as he had many admonishments and directives for me, as well as some terribly misguided advice on how to attend the Rebirth of a Phoenix. Eventually, with the help of a scalding hot tea pot and a frying pan, he was persuaded to go. Ashton and I needed to talk.
“That’s what happened to Daddy?” she asked, after the tears had dried from her eyes and settled in her throat.
“More or less. Bigger dragon, bigger prey. But, yes, that’s what happened.” My tears stayed inside, calcifying within my heart. They were still hard, angry tears.
“He shouldn’t have gone.”
“No, he shouldn’t have.”
“Why did he? Why didn’t he just let the Phoenix take care of it?”
“Because he didn’t listen to me, Ashton. He let his feelings get in the way of what had to be. It was a mistake. Learn from it. When we go, there will be things that will be hard for you. There will be things that you will want to do out of love—sweet, noble, selfless things. But you must not. The noblest thing you can do for me and for our people is to put those feelings aside and do what must be done. And for you, that is to keep your eyes open and stay alive.”
She nodded, or at least dropped her jaw enough for me to take it as a nod. I hugged her tightly, crushing her against my chest until I could feel her heart knocking against mine.
“Pack some clothes and comb your hair. We leave tomorrow morning.” Over her head, through the red tinted window, the mountain convulsed and thundered its approval.
I’D PUT OFF packing until about midnight. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and I figured it would give me something to do. Ashton had packed her bags hastily and turned in early, to be fresh for the morning. For the past few hours, our house had been filled with the rhythmic banging of her headboard against the wall as she wrestled her sheets. I’ve learned not to fight the insomnia and just tell myself I’m too busy to lay down.
I’d never admit it out loud, but Randal’s absence makes it easier. There’s no way I could have prepared myself under his watch. He would never have let me leave— he would have let the whole country burn first. Maybe this is how it had to be.
He wanted so badly to keep me from danger that he sacrificed himself on a fool’s errand. That last Dragoness was a monster, the likes of which had not been seen for centuries. She was fire incarnate as she flew. Her golden scales captured the sun’s light and hurled it like a weapon towards earth, blinding those below with the scattered rays. The true dragonflame followed, blackening those in her path to the bone before they were devoured.
She could be feline in her killing as well. Even when her hunger had been sated, she hunted, playing with the villagers like a cat in a field of frightened mice. We stayed holed up in our homes until farming ceased and the crops failed.
The Phoenix had always protected us in the past, easily destroying any Dragon that dared cross the sea into our land. This one was too much for her. Too cunning and too strong. She evaded the Phoenix at every turn—her glaring scales and razor sharp talons could counter any attack made by our champion. Our days rang with the shrill, frustrated cries of the Phoenix and the amused, rumbling growls of the dragon.
Randal knew what was coming. As our situation became more desperate, so did the Phoenix. The Release was imminent. He dreaded the loss of the Phoenix, that death that led to Rebirth when I would be called to serve as midwife to a birth of fire, flame, and overpowering magic. We’d never thought that day would come, there’d been Rebirthers in my family for hundreds of years, a ceremonial position respected and pampered by the people of the town. They’d never been called to attend, there’d never been any need.
I’d explained it all to him, before we were married. No one outside the family knows what would happen or why. He never quite believed me, or else he didn’t want to. The big softie never could bear to see me in danger or pain—he fainted when Ashton was born. There was so much blood, he was certain I had haemorrhaged and died. My midwife tried to tell him it was all part of the process. He didn’t listen to her at first either.
So my brave, romantic, ridiculous husband confronted the beast that even the Phoenix couldn’t fell armed with nothing but passion and a spear. I locked Ashton in her room, as I watched from our window, unable to step outside my door and aid him. I am the only midwife to the Phoenix. Without me she could never be Reborn, leaving generations to come vulnerable to attack. I had to live, no matter how my love died. I’ll never tell Ashton, but that sheep had it easy.
The Phoenix came then, Randal’s sacrifice shaming and spurring her to action. We locked eyes through the glass, the burnished obsidian of hers glimmering with apology. Then came the Release. She curled her blazing wings to her chest and threw them wide in one fluid, powerful motion. With a deafening shriek, she ignited earth and sky. The eruption of flames and energy filled the air, as my land and all it held was reduced to ashes. Including the Dragon and the remains of my husband.
Memories are an insomniac’s dreams.
“THEY’RE FOLLOWING US, Mom.”
“I know, Ashton. Why on earth do you think I’m carrying this bag of steaks?”
She wrinkled her pointed little nose in confusion. “I thought it was for us. You know, provisions.”
“You thought I crammed fifteen pounds of raw, bleeding meat into a burlap sack for us? On a day trip up the mountain? I must not be feeding you enough, child. Are you hungry?”
“No, of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought maybe you needed the protein, or the Phoenix would.” She looked genuinely baffled, and I realized that I had omitted an important part of her education. She was just so sensitive about dragons, I didn’t really want to bring this part up before.
“In a way, you’re right.” I smiled at her. I hoped it was a smile anyway, it felt awkward and wolfish on this end. “The Phoenix will need protein. She’ll be starving when she resurrects.”
“And she’ll eat the steaks?”
“She’ll eat the dragonlings. The steaks are to draw them in.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip and glared at the shadows in the trees. “Good.”
We hiked in silence. Human silence, anyway. The air was filled with the startled cries of birds and horrified chitters of squirrels, punctuated by the scraping thump of dragonling steps behind us. They were still young enough to keep their distance from us, young enough to be lured by the mere scent of blood, but still menacing enough to terrify the entire forest.
Ashton broke our silence. “What if there weren’t any dragonlings here?”
“We got lucky on that score—the Dragoness laid her eggs before she died. Which would explain her fierceness.”
“What would we have done?”
“We would have gone across the sea to capture one. Tried to get it home in time.” She looked alarmed at the prospect, and rightly so. I’m not sure that I would have been able to carry that out.
“Rebirther’s a terrible job. When I was little, I thought it was the best. Because everyone has to be nice to you and give you things, and you didn’t actually have to do anything. But really, it’s the worst,”
“It won’t be for you. All you have to do is watch, learn, and teach. And let things unfold as they must.”
“You really believe that? That things unfold as they must?”
“Well, we’re not trekking across the sea to capture dragonlings are we? Mother Dragonesses are the only ones strong enough to warrant the Release of the Phoenix. They are the only ones that can bring about her death—but they are also ones that can provide what is needed to nourish her Rebirth. It’s about balance.”
“I don’t know.” She shook her dark head doubtfully.
“That’s all right, because I do.” She didn’t look convinced. I’m not surprised. This was the toddler that never accepted “because I said so” as a reason.
WE REACHED THE summit just as the sun slunk away. Smoke emanated from the cinders at our feet, mingling with the orange fire in the sky. It smelled of pine and juniper, and although it burned our lungs, there was something clean about it. The peak itself was a wasteland. Fallen, burnt trees smouldered on the fallow ground. Blades of grass had long since given way to grains of ash and curls of smoke.
Under the cold, reptilian gaze of Dragon offspring, we built a great pile of fallen boughs and kindling. We pulled the moss from the broken trees and wrapped it around the twisted limbs of our unlit pyre. The Phoenix’s ancestral nest would be ablaze with dragonflame soon enough.
I was proud of Ashton. She worked steadily, burying her fear and attending to the task at hand. “Thank you.” I hugged her tightly, combing my fingers though her wild mane. “You have been so strong, and I am so proud.”
Liquid half-moons from her eyes wet my shoulder as she nodded against me. She hid her face in my blouse, making it easier to hand out reminders. “It will get worse before it gets better. Don’t forget your job. To witness and remember. To keep your eyes open and stay alive. There are things I have yet to teach you, and they will come as a surprise. But these are things you need to see, things that you will need to share, for the good of our people in generations beyond your own.”
“We’ll teach—” Ashton began.
“In a way. But remember, no misguided sacrifices, no noble foolishness. You do as I have taught you.” I hugged her fiercely. “I love you, Ashton. Now sit here, and do not move.” I shoved her to the ground, bookended by jagged boulders. With a rare bit of sentimentality, I pulled the knife from the sheath at her waist. I ran my hand over the iron hilt, my thumb resting in the groove where Randal’s had been. It was a bit like holding his hand. Ashton sad-smiled and nodded at me. She always understands, even before I do.
The dragonlings, hungry from their long hike and wait, approached. I poured the meat onto the ground and stepped forward to greet them. They were still young, barely a year old and only waist-high. There were three, identical in their scales and markings, a deep black that hid them in the night and made them more demonic in the day. Their eyes held the difference—green, blue, and gold.
I shouted. Nothing intelligible—just a pained, barbaric roar as I brandished Randal’s knife. Green and Blue recoiled slightly, Gold simply narrowed her eyes. She was the most like her mother. She reared back her head and spewed forth a wretched inferno. I flung myself to the side, rolling across the soft, warm ashes of the mountain.
The bonfire was lit. Ablaze with the glow and magic of dragonflame, the incubator was ready. The mountain rumbled beneath me, heaving as its contractions grew. It was time. The Phoenix was ready.
The green and blue-eyed dragonlings circled me warily as the golden-eyed stared on. Still a child, she was exhausted from the exertion of her first flames. She shrieked an order to her sisters, spurring them to attack. I reached the blue-eyed one first, jamming Randal’s knife up beneath her ribs into her heart. Her scales had not yet hardened, and the delicate, overlapping flecks tickled my hand. Blood flowed like lava down my arm, singeing my flesh with a sticky heat. Ignoring the pain, I whirled on the green-eyed dragon.
Ashton had her pinned. My brave, silly girl had left the safety of her rocks and subdued the dragonling. She straddled the creature’s back, pinioning her throat against the smoky ground. I ran up behind them and Ashton grabbed the bloody, steaming knife from my hand and jammed it though the dragonling’s skull.
The remaining sister screamed, flapping her dark wings in grief and fury. She turned towards the sea and made a running start. Ashton chased her, cursing and wielding her father’s knife.
“Let her go!” I shouted.
“What?”
“Let her go. We can’t take them all. That’s not balance.” I turned to the last dragonling. “Go home. Go home across the sea and find your father. Do not come back here or the Phoenix will kill you, I promise you that. Tell all your kind.”
The dragonling, with eyes that recalled the scales of her mother, nodded slightly. Or at least dropped her jaw enough for me to take it as a nod, then caught the next wind current and soared from the mountain across the sea.
Once she had disappeared in the horizon, Ashton and I pulled the carcasses of her sisters towards the fire. The Phoenix would feed on them soon.
The mountain quaked beneath us, labouring with an intensity that brought us to our knees. “Go back by the rocks, Ashton. And do not come out again until it is over. Stay back from the flames, no matter what. I appreciate what you did with the dragonling. You were brave and strong. But now I need you to be smart and forward-thinking.” I smoothed that crazy hair back behind her ears. “I love you, and I’ll always watch over you. You watch over our girls to come.”
“I love you.” She bit her lip, steadying the quiver in her voice. Her eyes narrowed in determination. “I can do it.”
I believed her. Sixteen can do anything.
The heat intensified behind me as the fire roared and licked the awakening stars. The mountain groaned and trembled beneath us as Ashton staggered away, struggling to keep her balance.
In the flames rose the image of the Phoenix. Her apparition, born of the labouring Mother Earth, sought anchor in this mortal land. We locked eyes—hers were still filled with apology, but this time mingled with hope and longing. And connection. I was so thankful for those eyes, the intensity which pulled me in and kept me from looking back towards the rocks.
I stepped towards the flames, my toes brushing the wooden outskirts. Ashton screamed. Before she could even think of running for me, I threw myself into the conflagration of Rebirth. I expected it to hurt, to blister and torture like an amplified kitchen burn scouring my body. But it didn’t. It felt like home. Like a warmth I’d been missing. Like the sanctity of the womb.
Flesh melted from bone in one fluid motion and was replaced by feathers and flame. I gave Ashton, my shocked yet stoic Witness, a final forced smile of goodbye before my lips distorted and elongated into a fiery beak. The mountain gave one last push, a quake that rocked the kingdom, and the Phoenix consumed me.
In that instant, my world became a raging inferno of watchfulness, defence, and love. It was not so unfamiliar. I had felt it once for that beautiful dark-haired girl watching from behind the rocks. Now I felt it for the nation, and I could protect them all.