Chapter 61 — The First Secret

Chapter 61: Chapter 61 — The First Secret

Chapter 61 — The First Secret

Thunder finished the deer before the rain stopped.

Christopher sat against the nursery wall and watched her pull the last strip of meat from the ribs. Hunger reached him through the bond as a deep ache that was not his own; it weakened with every bite but never disappeared completely.

Godfrey remained near the feeding-room gate. His sword had returned fully to its sheath, though his hand never moved far from it.

"How much did she eat?" Christopher asked.

"Most of the animal."

The deer had been large enough to feed Dragonwatch’s household for several meals.

The hatchling lifted her head, blood darkening the scales around her mouth. Through the contract came satisfaction, followed by immediate interest in the portion Godfrey had placed farther along the table.

Christopher rubbed his face. "She is still hungry."

"She was born today."

"That does not explain where she is putting it."

The dragon snapped through a rib and chewed it with the same ease Bram showed with hard bread, and the sound ended Christopher’s attempt to estimate her stomach.

Outside the terrace, rain fell more gently across the castle. The storm clouds were breaking apart above the valley, and lightning still moved between distant ridges, but the Thunder-gathering spires no longer drew every bolt toward the nursery.

Christopher felt the dragon’s attention shift before she turned. She wanted open sky, wind and distance.

Her wings spread. The wet membranes had dried to deep blue edged in silver, but they were too small to carry her body, and she folded them again after feeling their present strength.

Godfrey stepped between her and the terrace. The hatchling stopped eating. Prestige pressed against the room.

It was weaker than the first release, or Christopher had already gained some resistance through the contract. Godfrey’s shoulders tightened beneath his magical armor.

"Not yet," Christopher said.

The dragon studied him. He sent the thought through the bond as simply as he could: outside later, danger now, remain here.

Her answer contained no words. Pride struck first; she had broken her shell, survived the bond and eaten, and the idea that a doorway could be forbidden offended something born inside her. Christopher added the image of the wyrms circling beyond the mineral ridge. The hatchling’s confidence did not disappear, but caution entered beneath it — she had inherited knowledge enough to recognize larger predators even if she had never faced one.

She returned to the deer with a sharp movement of her tail.

Godfrey faced Christopher. "Did she understand?"

"Enough to be angry."

"That’s not the same as obeying."

"I noticed."

They remained until the carcass had been reduced to bones, hide and pieces she refused to eat. The dragon drank from one of the repaired basins, sneezed when water entered her nose and blamed the basin for the experience. Christopher felt the accusation clearly enough to laugh.

The hatchling turned toward him at once.

"I was laughing at the basin," he said.

Suspicion crossed the bond. Godfrey pretended to inspect the outer gate.

Christopher pushed himself upright. His legs still shook from Prestige and the strain of the contract, and the place beneath his breastbone felt too warm. When he drew on the Drake Breathing Method, Knight Essence moved normally through his body, but another current answered from deeper inside. It vanished when he tried to touch it.

His Knight Seed remained Black Iron, but the Essence around it felt unsettled. He left it alone until Godfrey could inspect the change.

He stopped.

Godfrey noticed. "Pain?"

"It is something else, not pain."

"Then Mabel looks at you before you train again."

The hatchling left the feeding room and returned to the nest. She circled the dark stones twice, pushed several aside with her nose and settled with her wings partly open. Her satisfaction passed through the bond with enough force to loosen Christopher’s shoulders.

Then he walked toward the nursery door, and her head rose.

Christopher felt the question. He showed her the mountain platform, the gate and Dragonwatch beyond it, then added himself returning. The contract carried emotion more easily than explanation: reluctance, duty, reassurance.

The dragon disliked all three. She stood and followed him to the inner door.

"She cannot come," Godfrey said.

"I know she must stay here."

Christopher crouched. The hatchling’s head reached his chest even with her neck lowered. He placed one hand against the scales between her eyes, and static ran across his fingers, painful but not harmful.

"Stay here. Eat. Sleep. Do not destroy the gate."

The last instruction produced interest.

Christopher removed his hand. "I should not have included that."

Godfrey opened the inner door only far enough for both men to pass. The hatchling tried to follow, but Christopher blocked her with his body while sending the same command through the bond. For one breath, he faced the full displeasure of a creature born with the certainty that barriers existed for lesser life. Then she stepped back.

Godfrey closed the gate. The black bars carried a faint blue light when the dragon placed one claw against them; the old formation held.

They waited in the passage. The dragon paced behind the gate, struck it once with her tail and returned to the nest. Through the bond came anger, hunger beginning again, and the steady awareness of Christopher’s direction.

"We need more meat," he said.

"We need rules for approaching her."

"She is a few hours old."

"A few hours old and strong enough to force a Silver Knight to one knee."

They checked the nursery’s outer terrace gate, water system and feeding-room locks before leaving. Godfrey lowered the inner bar. It would not stop an adult dragon, but the nursery had been built for hatchlings and carried old reinforcement formations in its stone.

The road back to the portal took most of the remaining daylight. At first, the bond stretched without weakening, and Christopher felt the hatchling settle, wake and inspect the basin again. As the miles increased, the emotions grew less immediate, becoming pressure at the edge of his awareness rather than a second presence inside his chest.

Near the waystation, he stopped.

Godfrey turned. "What?"

Christopher closed his eyes. The dragon remained there, distant but unmistakable: irritation, weariness, a small flare of alarm when thunder sounded beyond the castle. He sent reassurance. The response arrived faintly.

"Distance weakens it," he said. "It does not cut it."

"The portal may."

That possibility stayed with him through the night.

They slept at the waystation rather than risk the dark road to the mountain. Godfrey took the first watch. Christopher woke repeatedly when unfamiliar fear brushed the bond, only to find that the hatchling had heard an animal outside the nursery or disliked being alone. He sent the same feeling each time: here, alive, returning. By morning, exhaustion had replaced most of her anger.

They reached the mountain platform before midday. Walter waited on the Dragonwatch side with Owen, Mabel and Bennet. The portal opened through the pendant, revealing four tense faces in the buried control room. Godfrey crossed first, and Christopher followed. The moment the portal closed, the bond thinned to a thread.

Christopher staggered.

Mabel caught his arm. "Sit."

"I can still feel her."

Every person in the room became still.

Walter turned to Godfrey. "It hatched?"

Godfrey removed one gauntlet. Dried blood from Christopher’s nose marked the cloth wrapped around his hand. "It hatched."

Bennet lowered himself onto the nearest bench. Owen stared at the dead portal arch and kept waiting for claws to appear through it.

Mabel pushed Christopher into a chair and checked his pulse, eyes and breathing. She placed two fingers over his Knight Seed, then made him circulate Essence once.

"Black Iron," she said.

"I know."

"Good. Then the contract has not changed your rank."

Walter’s mouth moved before he stopped it.

"You may laugh," Christopher said.

"I may laugh later."

Mabel found no fresh internal injury. The warmth near his heart remained beyond her ability to identify, though his bloodline recovery had already closed the small vessels damaged by Prestige, even as dried blood remained beneath his nose.

"No training today," she said.

"Godfrey already decided that."

"Then for once his judgment is adequate."

They moved to the private workroom and barred the door. Christopher described the birth, the shell, the storm, the first release of Prestige and the contract, keeping the explanation plain. Bennet asked about food. Owen asked whether the nursery gate held. Walter asked how quickly the dragon moved. Mabel asked what Christopher felt from her.

"Hunger. Pride. Fear, sometimes. Curiosity. She understands me when I send something simple."

"Can she hear your thoughts?"

"Not unless I send them. I can’t see her memories either."

"Can she command you?" Walter asked.

Christopher considered the certainty that had come through the bond when she wanted the terrace opened. "She can be very persuasive."

The answer left the room tense.

Bennet counted livestock.

"We can’t feed her from Dragonwatch’s herds," he said. "Not regularly."

"The small plane has game."

"Then hunting inside it becomes necessary, not optional."

Walter offered to hunt inside the valley when more meat was needed.

"Use Walter and the hunters," Christopher said. "Take only what she needs."

For the next trip, Godfrey would hunt with Walter inside the small plane while Christopher remained close enough to calm the hatchling. They would take only what the nursery needed. Before hunting regularly, they needed to learn how many magical deer lived near the orchard and when they bred.

"She ate the shell first," Christopher said. "That satisfied something the deer did not."

Mabel leaned forward. "Did it reduce the Prestige?"

"I don’t know."

"Did her scales change?"

"They dried. The silver edges became clearer."

Mabel began making notes, then stopped and eyed Bennet’s locked cabinet. He opened it without being asked, and she placed the page inside with the true inventory rather than carrying it to her treatment room.

"Use names only when necessary," Godfrey said. "No page leaves this room."

"What do we call her in the records?" Bennet asked.

"Thunder," Christopher said.

Bennet wrote the name beside the feeding count.

They ended the meeting before supper. Walter returned to the outer wall. Owen checked the braces along the hidden stair. Mabel carried Christopher’s bloodied cloth to the kitchen fire herself and watched until it burned.

Godfrey remained.

"You nearly fell when the gate closed," he said.

"The bond stretched."

"Can it pull you back?"

Christopher had no answer. "I didn’t feel pain. Only distance."

"Tomorrow we open the portal before you touch the pendant. If the bond changes while the gate is active, we learn it here instead of halfway across the valley."

It was the kind of precaution Christopher would have called excessive months earlier. He agreed without argument.

At supper, Joan noticed that Godfrey had changed clothes and that Christopher barely touched his stew.

"The underground rooms again?" she asked.

"Yes."

She waited, giving him room to say more. Christopher looked toward Meg and Elsie sharing a piece of fresh bread at the other end of the table.

"Something worked," he said. "It also created more work."

Joan turned to Godfrey. "That describes most things he brings home."

Godfrey continued eating. She let it rest.

That evening, Christopher stood alone in his new chamber and turned to face the inner castle. Stone and earth hid the portal from sight, and beyond it, separated by mountains and another sky, the hatchling woke. Her awareness touched the bond.

She felt alone.

Christopher closed his eyes and answered. He promised to return tomorrow. The response carried impatience, hunger and reluctant acceptance, and the bond settled only after he promised to return.