The Dragon Mark

She woke up in sweat. The same nightmare again. The cold night air clawed at her skin and burned her throat as she struggled to catch her breath.

Lysbelle sat up, pressing her back against the cold metal bars. Still trembling, she pulled her knees to her chest, trying to keep any warmth her body could produce. Her heart tightened, and her throat stiffened. She felt a tear moisten her eyes, which she soon wiped away, almost afraid someone might see.

Once she regained composure, her gaze drifted through the bars, far across the horizon. It landed in the vast sandscape, the Exergue Desert. The almost full moon lit up the entire landscape. The immense dunes shimmered with a silvery glow she had always admired. A soft, sleepy voice broke her gloomy reverie.

"Lys? What’s wrong?"

She turned her head, startled, towards the small figure she woke up with her movements. In the moonlight, large eyes as dark as hers stared back.

"Azel, go back to sleep, it’s nothing."

Instead of heeding the advice, her little brother sat up and looked around.

"I took all the blankets again, I’m sorry, Lys."

Tanned skin, hair a little shorter than hers and just as dark an oval face, and a slight frame. Her little brother was her spitting image. Yet, noticeable differences often made it seem as though they weren’t blood-related. Their age gap was significant. She had turned twenty-one this past summer solstice, while he had only seen nine. And although her skin was tanned, it was surprisingly lighter than his. This characteristic, which they didn’t share, had long ago been a source of unease and worry. Today, it no longer bothered her. Lysbelle smiled softly and reassured the child.

"Don’t worry, I gave it to you. I didn’t need it, and I don’t want you to catch a cold."

Still half-asleep, Azel nodded. herubbed his eye before lying back down and falling asleep almost instantly. Lysbelle watched him for a moment. His face, although slightly gaunt from hunger, was as peaceful as the starry night. In a whisper, she repeated a promise she had made to herself countless times since the night that haunted her nightmares.

"I promise I’ll protect you, Azel..."

As if in response to her vow, a shadow passed in front of the moon. It momentarily blocked its light before the silence once again settled over the desert.

Lysbelle tried to fall back asleep, she needed rest. The forced march had been draining her for days. Unfortunately, the loose clothing that shielded her from the sun’s blaze during the day was of little use against the night's freezing cold.

After long and restless minutes, she realised it would be another sleepless night. Her eyes wandered on the steel bars surrounding her. It had been seven days since they attacked her Caravan, and her freedom crushed. Everything had happened too quickly. The screams, the flames and the blood had echoed in the night, leaving her with nothing but horrifying nightmares.

Her gaze then went over to her surroundings. Around her was the murderous expedition that had taken her mother, her Caravan, and her happy life. A convoy filled with killers, barbarians, and immoral men.

She didn't know their purpose or what they wanted with the few survivors. One thing though had consumed her mind since her capture: an emblem. A symbol in the shape of a creature she knew all too well, her own tattoo. On her right side, for as long as she could remember, it had always been there, an impressive white dragon. A serpentine form with terrifying claws, a body covered in threatening spikes, and a maw full of sharp fangs. This tattoo, a symbol that had accompanied her all her life, was now emblazoned on the tunics of the killers before her. Shocked at the discovery, she had done everything in her power to keep her tattoo secret. Locked in the steel-barred cage, she could not understand. Her logic had been screaming for days that it was just a coincidence. After all, the Dragon was simply a symbol of strength. And yet, even though there were slight differences between the two symbols, she couldn’t shake the fear of some unknown connection.

The night passed slowly, and soon the first rays of sunlight illuminated the convoy. As if waiting for this moment, voices echoed in the prisoners’ ears.

"Get up!"

A man, bare-chested and holding a steel rod, approached the cages. With no warning, he banged on them furiously, trying to make as much noise as possible. As soon as he started, all the slaves jolted awake and stood up. Everyone was fearful of the punishment some had already experienced. The man gritted his teeth when he saw that none of the thirty prisoners were still asleep. He then began ushering everyone out one by one, handcuffing them to a large steel chain. Of course, the cages were only for the night.

Lysbelle stepped forward, Azel behind her, and held out her wrists. He tied her to the chain and then did the same with her little brother. Another man, even larger than the first, ordered everyone to move. Without choice, they all walked toward the front of the convoy.

The convoy itself was some kind of imposing double-hulled vessel with its mast removed. Unlike any of the grand nomadic Caravans she knew, it was heavy and slow. The transport was pulled by a dozen Oroxes. Massive beasts, weighing almost half a ton each and whose morphology was remarkably suited to the dangers of the desert. A thick skin and light frizzy fur protected them from extreme heat, violent sandstorms, and small predators. In large numbers, they chased off the bigger threats. Their herds could reach fifty individuals or more. Even in the vast sands where food was scarce and scattered, they thrived.

Seeing these forces of nature chained and reduced to mere livestock made Lysbelle laugh bitterly. After all, she was in the same situation as these creatures she had always respected for their resilience and virtues.

But amidst her reflection, a movement caught her attention. The prisoners had turned their heads toward the ship’s deck, their eyes filled with fear. She followed their gaze, gesturing for Azel to do the same and laid her eyes on a figure that made her want to scream in rage. She held it back.

"Starting today, we’re picking up the pace. I want to be out of the desert in less than two weeks!"

With a towering figure of over two meters, the man spoke in a deep, emotionless voice. His arms were as thick as thighs and a long scar ran across his face. The wound was still fresh, having just healed. It started at his right eye, crossed his nose, and ended at his mouth. As she looked at him, it was the only detail that brought Lysbelle a small sense of comfort. The giant cracked a whip, and the massive convoy began to move, pulled by the Oroxes.

"Anyone who can’t keep up will be fed to the Reapers!"

A murmur of terror rippled through the chain of slaves, and Azel let out a fearful whimper. Almost instinctively, Lysbelle started to comfort her little brother, whispering in his ear.

"Don’t worry, you know I’ll protect you. None of them will get near you."

The boy nodded, although his large, dark eyes were still filled with palpable fear. A few years ago, when he was younger. Azel made the mistake of wandering away from their Caravan. He then found himself face-to-face with one of the enormous omnivorous insects. Standing about a meter and a half tall. Four insectoid legs, two others raised threateningly toward the child looming over him. A massive pair of transparent wings, filled with delicate veins, spread wide to assert its dominance as an unrelenting predator. The cold-blooded creature, with black chitin and metallic eyes, needed nothing more to inspire fear and awe. Yet, it seemed as if nature had decided to tip the scales further in creating a perfect killer. The monster was also armed with enormous mandibles. Larger than both its thorax and abdomen combined, its curved, insectoid jaws were as sharp as razors and strong enough to break a body.

Already a threat on its own, the giant insect was considered the lord of the desert for good reason. Encountering a Swarm meant certain death. Luckily, Azel had likely come across a scout. His alarmed cries, followed by the shouts from the Caravan, had been enough to scare it off. Once the danger passed, the Caravan had changed direction, only stopping after three days of travel. A Reaper always signaled the approach of more.

Azel pressed himself closer to his sister for reassurance as the man’s voice boomed again.

"Hey, you! The daughter of that wench, is what I’m saying not interesting?"

Lysbelle turned her head toward the ship. The man was glaring at her with a scowl. She cursed inwardly before meeting his gaze defiantly.

"If you don’t want the same thing that happened to your mother to happen to you, you’d better start cooperating. And for your concern, you’ve earned yourself a prime spot to divert the next Swarm!"

She shot a deadly glare at the giant, silently praying that the wound her mother’s blade had left on his face would get infected. As their eyes locked, the man’s expression twisted into a sadistic smile. His muscles flexed and he jumped down. The impact of his landing made some of the nearby prisoners flinch as the sand billowed around him. The giant stood up, and with heavy steps, approached Lysbelle, locking his gaze with hers.

"You’re still not afraid, huh? Pest. Do you think my threats are empty words?"

"Kraast," Lysbelle spat," the only reason you’re standing in front of me today is because you’re a coward. If not, your head would’ve rolled in the sand the day of your attack."

A flash of rage crossed the giant’s eyes before a sneer quickly erased it.

"I can still hear your mother’s screams and pleas as I broke her bones, one by one. Maybe you’d like to remember the sounds she made?"

With a swift motion, Kraast grabbed Lysbelle’s arm and a sickening crack echoed through the air. The show of force causing the other slaves to lower their eyes. Azel screamed in terror at the sight of his sister’s bone and blood protruding from her arm. Yet, Lysbelle didn’t flinch. The pain was unbearable, so intense she wanted to scream with all her might. But to scream would mean admitting defeat to the murderer standing before her. So, in an act of defiance, she resisted. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t cry, and she continued to hold the giant’s gaze.

Unfortunately, it was her brother’s cries that caught Kraast’s attention.

"Won’t he shut up?"

The man took a step toward Azel, and an indescribable terror gripped Lysbelle. An overwhelming anger surged within her. As she was ready to tear her arms apart to free herself and launch at Kraast, a calm voice stopped the incident.

"Kraast, the harvest is already scarce. If we lose any more because of you, you’ll have to explain it to the boss."

Kraast made a sound of disapproval before walking away without even looking back.

As soon as the danger passed, Lysbelle turned to her little brother to reassure and soothe him.

"Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt that much. Look, I can even move it."

The slight movement sent a sharp, intense pain through her brain. She grimaced, the agony forcing her down to one knee. Behind her, a hand rested on her shoulder, causing her to tense in surprise and apprehension.

"You're brave for not bowing your head, but if you keep this up, you won’t be alive by the time we leave the desert."

"That’s none of your business."

"Maybe not, but you should at least think about what would happen to your little brother if you were gone."

Lysbelle gritted her teeth. Azel, barely calm, was watching her as if she could disappear at any moment, a deep distress written all over his face. Seeing that her point had struck a nerve, the woman added.

"Let me see your arm. You can’t leave it like this, it’ll get infected."

A few hours later, they were marching under the scorching sun of the Exergue Desert. The makeshift bandage applied by the stranger behind her was proving quite effective. Without it, she wasn’t sure she could have made it through the day. The woman, named Seylin, was part of another Caravan that had fallen days before theirs.

Seylin was three summer solstices older than Lysbelle. She took some time to explain all the movements to avoid aggravating her injury before making her promise to come see her that evening. She wanted to change the bandage and check for infections. After that, they walked in silence to conserve their energy.

It wasn’t until the sun reached its peak that they were granted a rest. Sitting in the scorching sand, with only a piece of dry bread as a meal, Lysbelle turned her gaze to her younger brother. The child had already devoured his portion, along with a small part of hers, and was now lying down, asleep. He had the gift of being able to close his eyes and fall asleep in an instant. A true blessing that kept him from being in a far worse state. A slight movement caught her eye near the Oroxes, the large beasts that pulled the ship with ease. They could have done so with the prisoners on board, but their captors wanted to tire them out. Docile in any situation, the animals were beginning to show signs of unease. Intrigued, Lysbelle tried to figure out what was causing their fear. These calm forces of the desert were far better than her at sensing the signals sent by the vast sands. Over the years she learned to trust them more than her own instincts. She searched for a while, unable to pinpoint the reason for the growing panic in the mighty creatures. As others started to notice the Oroxes distress, a barely perceptible shadow passed overhead. Lysbelle’s face paled, and a wave of primal terror washed over her. In a soft, trembling voice, she murmured.

"A Swarm…"