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ylabira and River were anxiously awaiting us at the mouth of the cave. Concern was simply radiating from them and worry gripped their features. Leimashea swooped across the sky, darting gracefully into the hole. Steadily, she lowered Alu to the stone as I came in on Catori.
The young dragon didn’t stop to let me off as she bolted for her rider. Emmayla swiped me off her back as she hurried by and set me gently to the floor.
No one said a word as Mama and River pulled Liluye out of Leimashea’s saddle and laid her on a blanket. Just stared and hoped. Li was still unresponsive, which worried us all. We held our breath as Mama ripped back her sleeve, exposing the trauma beneath.
A severe burn blistered Liluye’s raw skin on her left shoulder. Bits of blue fabric had melted into the reddened flesh, blood seeping into the fibres and dying them a deep rose colour. It was a miracle that the shock hadn’t killed her.
Mama quickly began to try and heal her and after a while with no real progress, River joined in. Even with the two of them scorching their hands they still only managed to heal the basic burn.
Fifteen minutes turned into an hour and they decided it was time to give up. It was hopeless to go on destroying their hands so they stopped, admitting defeat, and being happy with the amount of reconstruction they had done.
Still Liluye had blast shaped scar on her shoulder and would probably have it the rest of her life. Not that she would mind in the least; she’s think it was cool and a totally awesome piece of art to add to her collection of battle wounds given to her by her unwavering love of dragons.
“Well, I think she’ll be fine for now,” Mama sighed, “but only time will tell. For now all we can do is wait.”
Her words were reassuring, but her eyes told a different story. Worry flooded her gaze and Sylabira, River, and I caught on immediately. Li was in trouble. How much no one knew, but like Mama said, only time will tell.
Placing two thick blankets over her, they went over to their own pallets and promptly passed out, leaving the rest of us to tend to Alu.
A most unusual marking had developed on her shimmering, icy scales. Vivid and distinct was a yellowish white streak, travelling from the tip of her snout to the very end of her tail. It was erratic and jagged, running over her left eye and up her largest spike before spilling back down and rushing to her tail.
The dragon’s consciousness was flickering, her eyelids parting slightly as she came to. Hopefully she could give us some insight to what was going on with Liluye when she was ready.
Alu Istas woke up slowly, but snapped into action as soon as she was awake. Confused and panic stricken, she rushed over Li and began roaring in her face as if trying to scare her awake. Needless to say, it wasn’t that easy and she never woke up.
We hated to see her like this; a magnificent beast such as Alu scared out of her mind, crying senselessly for her owner. Sy couldn’t take it and burst into tears, running over and attempting to pull the frantic dragoness away.
No matter how much she tugged, she was no match for the five-year-old dragon. Instead of taking her lead, I turned to Emmayla for help.
What’s going on, Emm? I asked. Why is Alu acting like this?
She’s can’t contact Liluye, Emmayla explained solemnly. None of them can. They’re all screaming about how they can’t get a hold of her through her thoughts or dreams. They have absolutely no idea what’s going on inside her and they’re terrified.
What can we do?
Nothing, Namaya, we can’t do a thing about it!
Just wait I guess, I finished.
Night fell and still there was no change in Liluye’s state. Mama kept trying to reassure the rest of us by reminding us that her body had gone through a lot of trauma, but with each mention of the accident our anxiety got worse and worse.
After some gentle coaxing and a few soothing words, Alu finally fell into an uneasy sleep next to Li. Even after she slipped into her subconscious, soft whimpers still escaped her mouth. Somewhat satisfied, I left her side for the first time since we landed.
Taking my place at the mouth of the cave, I let my right leg dangle over the edge, and hugged my left one tight. Nails clicking on the stone, Kayles waddled over and plopped down next to me with a snort of smoke.
Is she going to be alright? a childish voice asked me.
I whipped around to see who was talking but found no one. Confused though I was, I turned back around and got back to my gazing.
Hello! I’m talking to you, the voice nagged.
Spinning around once more, I took a closer look at everything. Emmayla and Auslemaro were tending to their little ones, Mama was tending to Liluye and Alu with the help of Leimashea and Samce, the draglings were sleeping on their blanket while River and Sylabira watched over them, and the older dragons were having a telepathic conversation in the back of the cave. Okay, now I wasn’t just confused; I was utterly baffled and contemplating my sanity.
Well, fine! If you don’t want to talk, you could have just said so!
Then it clicked. I looked down at Kayles fuming beside me. She seemed rather peeved.
Kayles? I asked, hesitant.
What? You wanna talk now? she replied.
Sorry, I didn’t know it was you, I apologized. So, I guess congratulations are in order.
Sure are! I’ve been trying to get this link thingy up for forever! she groaned with pride flooding her speech.
The months of practice I had with Emmayla honed my interpretation skills, allowing me to read my dragon’s mood. Kayles was young with emotions that were powerful and easy to read. An older dragon like Emmayla was harder because the combination of not having a rider until she was five and her habit of suppressing her feelings so others couldn’t take advantage of them.
Sounds like you were working hard, I said, feeding her the admiration I knew she was looking for.
Tell me about it! You think flying is hard? Well, you haven’t seen nothing until you’ve tried building a mental link.
I laughed, amused by her explosive personality. But Kayles, you can’t fly, so how would you know how hard it was?
It’s in my blood. And besides, Mommy won’t let me fly yet; she says I’m too little. She’ll see though! I’ll be a better flier than her one day!
Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe I can talk Emmayla into giving you a few lessons, I suggested. How does that sound?
Really? That would be awesome!
Alright then, you go get some sleep and I’ll talk to her later, I smiled.
Aw, she whined, do I have to?
Yes, my love, I answered, mentally signalling to her that I meant it.
Grudgingly, she obeyed, and trotted over to the blanket with the other young dragons. As soon as the connection was severed and Kayles was starting to drift off to sleep, Emmayla picked it back up, her familiar, rich voice startling after listening to the childish tone that Kayles used.
She’s really growing up fast, isn’t she, she stated, chuckling.
Yeah, I sighed, suddenly exhausted. She’s gonna be a handful, that one.
You just realized that?
No, but I didn’t accept it until now. Oh, and before I forget, could you maybe start giving her some flying lessons?
Not without her mother’s consent, Emmayla said quickly. Leimashea’s the one who’s supposed to be teaching her anyway, her and the father.
That’s fine, I agreed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day, I’m tired, and this worry has already tapped into my energy reserve. So, good night.
Good night, Namaya.
Our connection ended and heavy drowsiness took its place. For the first time since we left, I slept alone, wanting to be left to my own thoughts and dreams.
A dense forest bloomed before me, green crowding my vision. The wind currents gushed past me, filling my lungs with the fresh smell of pine trees as they expanded. It seemed like instead of being on Kayles or Emmayla, I was the one flying for once. I wasn’t sure how that worked, but it did, and I was just fine with that.
The sun danced across a lake that was fuelled by a mighty river, warming its flawless surface. The river drained silently into the pool, keeping it endlessly supplied with cool, glistening water.
In the distance I could start to make out the faint outline of a city. Shadows of the tall buildings slowly dissolved into view as we flew closer to it. Gradually, new and sharper details began to show themselves.
The sandy colour of the homes, the spacious forum in the centre of the town, the people weaving in and out of the cobblestone streets, and the dragons with their riders zipping through the sky.
For some strange reason, it was familiar, but I had no idea why. I don’t remember ever being there, but I felt as if I somehow belonged there. Searching through my subconscious, I tried to find something, a scrap of a memory that would lead me back to this place. It was useless, though. Nowhere in my mind could I find even a glimpse of this rough looking town.
The wind started to pick up, rushing from behind me. Sounds of fabric flapping in the air current somewhere behind me, caught my attention. Arching my neck, I stole a backward glance. Nothing could have startled me more than what I saw.
Staring intently ahead, black hair tied partially back with strands flowing out in front of her was a girl I knew quite well. Her dark green eyes were intense with concentration. Her body tense with anticipation as she balanced on lavender scales. Love and admiration for this girl, for reasons I cannot explain, pumped through me.
My mind took a second to register what I was seeing. I was riding an older Kayles. No. I was Kayles! This wasn’t my dream, but her’s instead. Our link was strong and unbreakable in the depths of sleep.
Curling back around, Kayles focused on her flight to the nameless city, unsure of why I looked at it with such longing, but eager to please and impress.
I came back to reality gently and rested. The world was quiet and dark since the fire had long faded and died. Sylabira sat in my thinking spot at the mouth of the cave. Walking over, I sat down next to her, and joined in the thoughtful gazing.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” I asked her quickly.
A quick gasp told me that I surprised her and she just about fell off the cliff. She regained her composure as quickly and unnoticeably as she could, and not doing a very good job doing it, I might add.
“My word, Namaya!” she huffed. “You scared the living daylights out of me!”
“Really? I didn’t notice,” I smirked, rolling my eyes. “The way you almost fell didn’t give off that notion at all.”
“You’re funny,” she growled, sticking her tongue out at me.
“You worried too?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“No, it’s the fact that she’s our friend and I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” I replied, trying a strange way of comforting her.
We both fell silent, letting the sounds of crickets and the breeze envelop us.
“So what were you thinking about?” I questioned, breaking the quiet.
She shrugged, “Random junk.”
“How random exactly?” I smiled, prodding deeper into my friends barricaded mind.
Sy gave me a look that said that her thoughts dwelled deep within her memories. I knew the feeling; being lost in visions from events that carved trenches into your subconscious was somewhat of a hobby, heck, a career of mine.
A shift in her position brought the long unheard of but familiar crackle of ruffled paper to my ears. (I did so love that sound.) My eyebrows raised in question to which Sylabira responded by producing a few sheets of folded parchment from her dress pocket.
Without a word, she handed it to me, not bothering with an explanation. Carefully unfolding the sharply creased paper, I unknowingly dove myself deep into Sy’s memories in the form of smudged ink on tear spattered parchment.
The forest was quiet and calm as always and the sun just barely peaked through the well moisturized leaves, spotlighting the undergrowth. The last of the crickets were just silencing their nocturnal song, waiting for the birds to pick up the rhythm. Early morning dew sprinkled the landscape like glitter with the rays accenting it just right.
This was Lutur’s and my favourite time of the day. The cool rush of the slight breeze was so relaxing, but something was different today. Something was…off. Tension, although light, was still apparent in the atmosphere.
Lutur must have noticed it as well because the little line on his forehead that only showed itself when he was worried about something was blaringly obvious right now. Every few seconds he would check over his shoulder; peculiar behaviour for my usually laid back brother. Despite this, we kept walking, enjoying our stroll as best we could.
Dawn Meadow was urging us closer with its alluring beauty. Soft grass warmed slightly by the sun waited for us in the clearing. Memories of hair ruffles and tickle torture lingered upon each royal coloured flower. Hour long talks about nothing and smiles were recorded by the wind, replaying every time we entered through the tree branch entrance.
A cool rush welcomed up into the meadow, rippling through our messy black hair. Spurred on by the gusts, the two of us made our way to the centre, our favourite spot.
“Sy, study of dragons,” Lutur said quickly.
“Draconology,” I answered without really having to think about it. “Really, Lutur? Is that all you’ve got?”
“Alright,” he thought for a second. “Blood type?”
“Homoiothermic,” I replied automatically, “or warm-blooded. Too easy.”
“How’s about we try some riding trivia?” he inquired, smiling broadly.
“You’re on!”
“Name two styles and what they’re used for,” Lutur instructed.
This took a little more thought, “Cruising: mainly pleasure riding, but is sometimes used as an area in competitions to show handling. Then there’s transwing: the style used for transportation of people and cargo. Large dragons are used for the human transportation and, though rarely, dwarfs will be used to transport small items.”
“Nice job, sis,” Lutur praised me, glancing around as if he’d heard something.
“What is it, Lutur?” I questioned, watching as he threw another look over his broad shoulder, worry consuming his profound brown eyes.
A lengthy pause and a repeated question came and went before he answered, “Nothing… nothing. Everything’s fine, little sis.”
He turned back to me, flashing a reassuring smile, the last one I’d ever see on his warm, lively face.
A blur of gold filled my vision for a moment before it and Lutur were gone. The distinct sound of a dragon’s growl struck my eardrums hard and fast. Turning to the source, my eyes reclaimed my brother once more, though this time I wished it hadn’t.
Bloody and horrifying, the scene before me violated my sight, ears, and heart in a single glance. After a few dull seconds, my mind caught up with my senses, hopelessness and tear jerking horror flooding my body.
Large and shimmering with gold, an enraged bull dragon stood over my brother’s thrashing figure, teeth bared and hard at work, doing what they were designed to do. The white glinted against the sun, blood spattered on the sharp tips. Living Death was a right perfect name for the beast! His owner chose well when he picked the name Viviro for his mount.
Lutur’s screams chilled me to the very essence of my soul. Shrill laughter clashed with the begging like the worst possible kind of dissonance, resonating in amongst the air particles.
Flaming stubs for hair and cold, dead eyes resembling those of his mount belonging to the tiniest man you would ever see assaulted my view, amusement captured in his features. His small shoulders rocked with mirth that he didn’t even try to contain. Uir Vetahr, my brother’s playground rival whom he followed so closely in age with.
The sight of him got my body’s plasma to boiling point and his latest and worst act of cruelty against Lutur was sending me further and further over that edge into the kill zone.
Torn between strangling Uir and defending my sibling, all I could do was stand their, frozen in indecision and panic, my mind repeating a single word continually: Why? That was all my disoriented brain could utter; the only word I could manage to form in my mind through the engraved image of Lutur, bloody and beaten, beneath that foul beast and the despair gripping my fragile heart.
Those few seconds that were an eternity in my opinion melted away with my fear as my thoughts began to blur and adrenaline started to take over. Seemingly in slow motion, my legs set into motion, my mind appearing to detach itself from the rest of me.
Uir, not wanting me to interfere with his dragon’s murderous actions, flashed over, restraining me with ease. An eight-year-old was no match for the nine years he had over me.
Pinning my arms behind my back, he forced me to watch as my brother was torn to pieces, snickering to himself and muttering nonsense under his hot, putrid breath.
“He deserves this!” he whispered into my ear as I kicked and screamed for him to release me so I could rescue Lutur.
He just laughed, confirming what I already knew but didn’t want to believe. My older brother was dead, silenced just seconds before my pleading began and moments after I made for him.
Anger and grief flooded from my puffy and enraged eyes, my entire body going limp, and shivering from this sudden and horrifying loss. High pitched chuckling scarred my ears, pushing my lower to the ground.
“He got what was coming to him, kid,” Uir hissed. “You’d be best to get over it. Come on, Viviro! Let’s get you a treat for the great job you did!”
Crawling over to my fallen brother, I curled up beside his battered, lifeless form that was nearly unrecognisable. Sobbing into his shredded sleeve that was partially embedded in his arm that he used to hopelessly defend himself. I turned slightly, just catching a glimpse of Uir making his way to the tree line without so much of a mere glance over his shoulder to see what he had done.
Nothing would have made me happier than to see him in the place of Lutur, being throttled by the creature he admired and adored. Instead, he walked away unharmed and quite pleased with himself and his blasted monster, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
I finished the last few lines with heavy tears rolling down my cheeks and disbelief in my mind. There’s no way this could have happened! I thought, shaking my head as if to knock off the images that were invading my brain.
These three pieces of paper were the firsthand account of how Sylabira’s brother was killed and I had just read them, sobbing from the intense pain exuding from the fuzzy words. I didn’t want to see this as a true and horrible story; to think that something like this could have happened to Sylabira herself.
She refused to make eye contact with me as I handed her back her memories that I knew she didn’t want returned. I’m sure she’d gladly give away those images that would most likely rule my dreams for a long time to come. Instead, Sy just took the parchment and tucked it back into its cloth home in her pocket.
“So, this really happened, didn’t it?” I asked weakly.
She nodded, seemingly having lost her voice. “It helped to write it out,” she replied, finding her tone again.
“I know the feeling,” I sympathized, “but why carry it around?”
“I don’t want to forget,” Sylabira whispered, stunning me to silence.
I was confused. Who would want to remember something like that? I had to ask!
“Even though it ended so badly, it started as the last good memory I have of Lutur,” she responded, making perfect sense though I’m not sure how.
“But what I don’t get is why you became so afraid of dragons,” I blurted, wanting some clarification.
“My brother was murdered by one!” she hissed shrilly, eyes wide and wild.
“That I get, but why all dragons? Why not just those that resembled Viviro?” I questioned, being rather insensitive to her now that I look back.
“I don’t know; that’s just what happened!” she snapped, getting up and storming off before I could apologized.
That was rude! I scolded myself. How can you be such a jerk after what you just read? Are you really that cruel? Or just that stupid?
Wiping away the moisture from my face, I made my way over to Mama, who wasn’t bothering to feign sleep. She seemed to have been anticipating a visit from me and the many questions I had built up inside from this latest development.
“I don’t get it,” I stated, cutting to the chase.
“I thought you wouldn’t,” Mama sighed. “Someone with your background sees dragons as a form of relief from you past, where as someone like Sylabira sees them as a haunting reminder of something horrible. Basically, your grain of sand is her mountain,” she explained, going into her fortune cookie mode.
“Huh?” I questioned, lost in her words of wisdom.
“It means what seems like a small thing to one person can be huge for another,” she clarified, putting her proverb into simpler terms for my sake.
“That makes sense, I guess,” I shrugged, yawning loudly. I suddenly realized how tired I was.
“Maybe you should get some sleep, sweetheart,” she suggested. “We’ll talk more in the morning.
“Yes, Mama,” I answered, lacking the mental or physical strength to argue.
I slid over to were Emmayla laid curled up with her little ones and fell sleep with my head on her large front leg.