Under a Jagged Spire - Chapter 1

Premise:

It has been 10 years since the end of the Tree Wars in Pantala, and Queen Wasp’s authority is absolute. Her continent-spanning realm is divided into Hives, each ruled by a sister of her royal line – towering vertical cities where teeming tens of thousands live and work under ironclad order. But in one of them, that order is beginning to fracture…

In Bloodworm Hive a Hivewing artisan strives to rise through its rigid ranks, hoping for a chance to secure his future, while a Silkwing dissident – secretly working for a vengeful resistance group known as the Chrysalis – descends into a plot aimed at the Hive’s most elite. As ambition and rebellion collide, both dragons find themselves drawn deeply to each other. But as the Hive trembles around them, will they survive the chaos when it finally erupts?

This story is intended for young adult audiences and up. Aside from mentions to a few notable dragons, all characters are original. Enjoy!

***

Ulkei nearly crossed the threshold of his dwelling before stopping mid-stride, arm dangling over the smooth cobblestone street as if deciding what to do. The next moment it retreated to his side, burrowing into the pouch slung over his shoulder.

“Hammer, chisel, engraver, pencil, money, key,” he quietly listed, angling his wings so that more light could filter through. It illuminated the inside of the bag to a pallid grey, giving the barest visibility needed to see the outlines of the tools – but not enough to differentiate between them. Three moons, why couldn’t he check all of this before he packed? He shrugged and took flight, grinning as the late morning sunlight emerged through the window slits on the outer walls hundreds of wingbeats away. 

Speaking of hundreds… Ulkei looked around and noticed for the first time the dragons busily going about their day. All of them flew at a brisk pace, no doubt going to work as fast as they could. He followed their example by picking up speed, feeling his four wings buzz louder as he did. The marketplace wasn’t too far away, and if he was lucky (Clearsight willing), he’d arrive before the stone was delivered!

“That’ll make a good impression for sure!” He resisted the urge to do a flip; the last thing he needed was for his tools to fall out. Instead he channeled his enthusiasm into a swooping descent, turning his attention to the sprawling buildings below. The square treestuff roofs of his modest neighborhood gave way to vast arcing stairways that connected his level to the ones above and below. Already they disgorged a stream of Silkwings from the lower levels, turning the roadway into a cacophony of colored scales. Fortunately the eyesore didn’t last long, for the marketplace at last came into view. Its tiered layers of shops and stalls rose above one another, their territorial competition making a circle around the central plaza where he’d work for the next few days.

Or weeks. Maybe even months if the stone’s large enough! Ulkei landed, talons giddily twitching. This could be my largest plaque yet. Or perhaps it shall be an obelisk. Or maybe – maybe – he allowed himself to dream – maybe I can make a statue! Of Lady Bloodworm herself as a patron! 

He could imagine it already: the joy of planning and executing such a grandiose task, the prestige that came with the assignment, the legacy made real through stone and metal, the—

“You there. Are you the stonecutter?” A sudden voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Y-yes!” Ulkei scrambled to attention, noticing the emerald-studded rings on the dragoness’s talons which designated her as a Hive official. It made his own bronze armband look paltry in comparison. “I am ready for work!”

“Good, good. You may call me Tachina” She nodded her head at a group of three Silkwings behind them, carrying a sheet-covered stone slab half the size of him. 

Huh, I thought it’d be bigger. He deflated. “What am I to make?”

She produced a crisply folded piece of paper from behind her wings, handing it over with an impatient face. “A memorial plaque commemorating one of our victories during the Tree Wars and,” she continued, “those who gave their lives to do so.”

Ulkei forced himself numb to keep himself from reacting, remaining the professional stonecutter in front of the official. Instead he watched as the Silkwing crew hauled the stone to a stop beside them, their heavy breaths earning a disapproving tsk from Tachina. She ordered them away with a flick of her claw. 

“The completed design is due in three days. Any questions?”

“Yeah. Are there any upcoming commissions for statues?” He hoped.

She chuckled. “On this level? Of course not. Lady Bloodworm’s projects on the upper levels come first.”

“Right…” Ulkei’s wings drooped. He raised his head to respond a moment later, but by then the official had already flown away. The only things left were his tools and the stone in front of him. Already it glowed with promise, its surface swirling with ideas that demanded to be let loose. The time had come to call them forth. The hustle and bustle of the market grew louder by the minute, but he tuned out the passing voices and faces. Regardless of his disappointment with the assignment, he had a job to do. And it’ll be my best one yet!

*****

“You all have jobs to do, don’t you? GET MOVING!”

Echo grimaced as the Hivewing guard’s grating voice boomed overhead. Her fellow Silkwings around her reacted too, pinned ears and frayed antennae a sign of their discomfort.  We’d move faster if you let us all fly, she glared daggers at the closest one, noticing his lazy face grow more bored by the second. Then he looked in her direction and she spun away, eyes settling on the dragons to her sides.

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today,” a whispered voice drifted from her left. It belonged to a pink-scaled dragoness who looked at her with a smirk.

“If only they’d bury their snout in a pillow,” Echo replied, the two snickering underneath claws raised to their mouths. Nearby dour-faced dragons lit up with a chuckle too, the creases around their eyes softening for precious few seconds. She drank in the sight while it lasted, then turned back to the one who’d spoken to her. “What’s your name?” She said the usual phrase.

The dragoness shrugged before leaning closer. “Oh, no one special. Does it really matter when there’s planting to be done?”

Echo leaned in as well to finish the ritual. She whispered the words that marked her as an associate of the Chrysalis. One day she’d say those words as a fully-fledged member, but for now they flowed from her like an oddly-colored raindrop in a downpour, visible only to the one dragon primed to look. “The seeds will grow again.”

“Excellent. It’s good you remember the phrases.”

In the Chrysalis, names were rarely ever given. Its members instead recognized each other through appearance, the information of which being passed from Silkwing to Silkwing in a chain that wrapped around the whole Hive. 

Echo had to steady her excited breathing, lest she became too conspicuous. But when gathering information was so fun, how could she resist? With a deep breath she tamed her excitement and listened closely. But the informant remained silent until they reached the outskirts of the marketplace. Here the roads widened into a large checkpoint crossing, the sounds of shuffling lines overlapping with the droning buzz of Hivewings flying directly to the stalls. 

The dragoness stared at the airborne dragons, letting out a resentful huff before murmuring, “We need new information, so go find some. If you have anything to report today, I’ll be near this checkpoint until evening. Otherwise–”

“–don’t come near at all.” Echo grinned. “I know the drill.”

“Good.” Came the curt reply, its speaker disappearing into the crowd before the word had dissipated.

New information, eh? She toyed with the idea, planning her approach. Her assigned job was as a servant-worker to a restaurant nestled some ways inside the marketplace. The owner, a pale yellow dragon who spent most of his time sitting on his tail, always made her go shopping for ingredients – not that she complained. Those errands gave her the perfect excuse to eavesdrop, information spilling from merchants and passerby for those shrewd enough to listen.

Like me. Echo primmed. And then I’ll give the information to the others, and together we’ll rake our talons through this rotting hive.

******

“The Liberation of Lonely Hills,” Ulkei read the title of the paper aloud, absorbing the details of his assignment. Knowing the history behind the art was vital to making a worthwhile piece, so he took his time with the following words. 

In the tenth and final year of the War, the northern town of Lonely Hills stood as a bastion of civilization amid the ravaged continent. But the savage Leafwings launched merciless raids, and the townsfolk languished in constant fear. Yet they valiantly continued their duties, providing tribute in the form of crops, metal, and…

“I don’t think I need to know all of the history,” he amended, skimming down a couple lines. 

When the green barbarians at last launched a final attack, the soldiers from Bloodworm Hive, far from home but no less determined, drove back the army after a full day of fighting. You will record this triumph onto a memorial plaque, gathered and burnished from the iron quarries surrounding the town. Accompanying praises to Clearsight, Queen Wasp, and Lady Bloodworm must be written in characters larger than two talon-lengths. 

“All in all, nothing out of the ordinary,” he dryly remarked, laying a pensive claw on the stone. The slab had a rough texture which belied its true softness – limestone for sure, meaning he had to be careful when engraving around the edges. The rock would crumble if he drove the chisel onto the edge too hard. But on the topic of chiseling, how should he make the design?

Ulkei tilted his head up and noticed, for the first time, dozens of dragons walking by. In the short time taken to read through the instructions, the marketplace plaza had swelled into a bustline hub. Like a dam being lifted, their voices flooded forth to drown out his thoughts. And with these waves came bubbly snippets of conversation.

…we should try another store…

…I thought we were early…

…swear these food prices are getting higher…

…upper levels are getting new statues made…

The word “statue” made him stiffen, his talons reflexively scraping the limestone with a dull squeal. What else was he missing out on? What else was he not hearing? After a sharp inhale, he held his breath and closed his eyes. A better question would be, why did I lose my focus? Now where was I… Right! The design.

A typical war plaque in Bloodworm Hive had three parts: the central focus, the supporting background, and engravings on the border. In practice, this meant a stoic soldier running a spear through a snarling Leafwing amid a victorious army, all nestled inside a ring made of recitations from the Book of Clearsight (and quotes from Queen Wasp or Lady Bloodworm. It depended on the artwork). Ulkei had done plenty of those before, and he trusted he could hammer out another with no issue.

But I don’t want to make another plaque, he sullenly bit his tongue. I want to make something more prestigious, something that will take me to a higher level – literally! He looked up at the domed roof which delineated this level of the hive. It was so high up that the winding staircase rising through it was shrouded by a thin layer of fog - or was that just his eyes?

Might be my eyes. Ulkei blinked a few times, a reminder of the long hours spent snout-first to stone. The blur faded after a few moments, confirming it was fog. The ethereal shroud looked like a pair of wings hovering in the sky and– wait, Ethereal! He began to pace, inspiration unfolding like the dawn. Ethereal means divine… Divine wings hovering over civilization… I got it! 

A mural: that was the answer. He’d carve a mural of Lonely Hills, safe and shining and protected under the timeless wings of a stoic Clearsight. Her left claw will hold a sword decorated with the banner of Bloodworm Hive, while her right will grip a shining ivory sceptre inlaid with the sigils of Queen Wasp. And as for the edges…

“Still up for debate,” he hummed. Words never came as easily as images. He needed to write down some ideas.

“Let’s see…” He unslung his satchel and rifled through its contents. His pencil and parchment were in there somewhere. His talons lazily burrowed around, then froze. A moment later they furiously moved around, and a moment after they lifted the bag and flipped it upside down. Tools and currency clattered on the ground, the wooden thud of his charcoal pencil or the flittery landing of floating paper nowhere to be heard. 

Three moons, I knew I forgot something! Ulkei groaned, collecting the money with a claw and the tools with the other. He could fly back to get them, but he was running low on paper anyway. So he turned his eyes away from the ground, away from the stone, and towards a market bustling with late-morning activity. Navigating the crowds would be a nightmare. But I only need 2 things, meaning it should take no time at all. In and out Ulkei, in and out.