Fishbait

From the moment he was born, he knew he was different. Long looks. Quiet whispers behind raised wings. It shouldn’t have happened to him. Capsule only afflicts female dragons, the whispers said, but he was proof that wasn’t true, and it was a black mark against him. From old to young, dragons could be cruel, and they were. They called him Fishbait, hinted he was as worthless as the name meant, and at first, he believed them.

“My son,” his mother whispered one night in the dark, “you are meant for far greater things than you will find here.”

He lifted his head, drowsily blinking at her. “I am?”

“You most certainly are,” she promised. “But you will not prove yourself here.”
Gathering his wits about him, he lifted his head more until he could rest it against her. “Then where will I go?”

She wrapped her wing around him, cradling him gently to her side. “Go to the south,” she said softly, “through the Whispering Grove. The waters on the far side are the edges of the Sea of a Thousand Currents. That is my home, the home of the Water Clan.”

From birth, she had told him stories of her home. Of the Tidal Pools and the SeaDogs who sailed those waters. While he wouldn’t be free of all ridicule or teasing, he would have a better chance for success there than he would in the Tangled Wood.

“Seek out the Captain,” she advised. “She will show you the way.”

He left the next morning, bag packed with the meagre belongings he called his own and enough food to get him there. The journey was challenging, and twice he almost turned back, but the memories of what he faced there were enough to nudge him forward. Finally, as he was down to one last day of rations, he came to the edge of the Sea of a Thousand Currents. He almost didn’t realize it, at first, until he saw the large ship out on the water … and someone waving to him. Unsure what to do, he waved back.

That was when the shore party arrived.

Three sets of eyes met him when they landed, but it was a Guardian the colors of the seas and grass who spoke. “You are new to these lands,” she observed. “What brings you across our border?”

“I – I was sent here,” he stammered, just a little intimidated.

“By whom?”

He swallowed past tightness and straightened to his full, if still diminutive, height. “My mother. She said I would be more at home here and I was meant for greater things.”

The Guardian peered at him closely. He saw her eyes flick to his belly, one brow arching slightly, before she said, “I see. And who seek?”

“The Captain,” he replied.

To his left, the Guardian’s two companions chuckled softly and even she had a hint of a smile at her lips. “Then your fortune is already changing,” she replied. “What is your name?”

“Fishbait,” he replied. It was the only name he’d ever really known.

Her head bobbed once and for the briefest of moments she looked angry, but her voice was as neutral as it had been all along. “I am the Captain,” she explained, “and your mother was right to send you to us.” She used her wing to gesture toward the smaller vessel they had taken to shore. “Welcome aboard, young Fishbait. Let us see what the future has in store for you.”