Raver folded his wings and dropped headfirst out of the sky, alighting with practised ease on her outstretched forearm. She steadied him until he gained purchase, and took a moment to drink from Poppa’s old waterskin.
She wasn’t used to carrying her rucksack loaded with sleeping blankets and camping utensils, on top of all of her weapons. Breathing heavily, she was thankful she chose to only bring her fighting sword, dagger and quarterstaff. The double training swords and bow would have been cumbersome climbing and scaling down the steep embankments she traversed at regular intervals.
“Where are they, Raver? Close?”
Raver tilted his head to the side.
“Far away?”
Raver nodded emphatically and took to the air.
“Circle them!” she called after his diminishing form.
It took Raver a while before he altered his flight and began gliding in great arcs over a stand of pines barely visible in the distance. The mountainside jutted out with what appeared to be, from where she stood, an impassable crag.
She nodded to herself. She knew exactly where they were. She’d have to be careful. There was only one way around the crag, and that meant descending to the trail.
Reaching the edge of the ominous spur, she dropped to a knee and listened. Nothing. Nor did she know where Raver had flown off to. Probably still tracking their quarry on the crag’s far side.
She waited a while longer, just to be sure, and picked a spot to scale down from the ridge.
Jumping the last several feet, she dropped into a crouch, cringing at the sound she made. She’d have to be more cautious if she planned on remaining hidden. Though she hadn’t seen him, she knew Joram likely accompanied the hunt. A shudder ran through her.
Scanning the skies above and to the west, she instinctively ducked against the rock face as a small, brown dragon swooped to the forest far below, its flight erratic. They were hatching!
She remained still, enjoying the spectacle. The first baby dragon of the year. Most likely on its maiden flight. That meant…
She searched the surrounding area and spotted it, skimming the distant treetops—the mother dragon—its massive wingspan riding the air currents with little effort. Had she not seen the baby, she would never have noticed its mother—her scales blended in with the terrain.
Reecah experienced a euphoric terror. Her journey was getting real. From this point onward, the dragon hunt was the least of her concerns.
Waiting until she no longer saw the mother dragon over the treeline and the baby but a speck in the partly cloudy sky, she looked away. When she looked back, she had lost sight of the baby as well.
Searching her immediate surroundings, a bad feeling tingled her skin. She hadn’t seen Raver for a while. The bird would be a perfect snack for a passing dragon.
A pebble skipped off the wall of rock directly behind her. She froze. Hazarding a look skyward, her blood ran cold. Perched on the trunk of a dead tree, extended high above the path, a baby dragon looked down on her.
Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never been this close to a dragon before. It was a magnificent creature—at least as large as she was. Stunning emerald eyes stared at her from beneath prominent brows. Ivory horns twisted back from where she imagined its ears would be. Its leathery, green wings wrapped around its scaly hide. Swallowing her discomfort, she regretted her decision to leave her bow behind.
As insignificant as the lurking dragon seemed compared to the mother dragon she’d seen moments before, she didn’t relish fighting it with a sword. And yet, she didn’t get the sense that it meant her harm. It just stared down at her, unblinking.
She swallowed and searched the sky. Where was its mother?
Raver cawed close by and her heart sank. Forgetting about her own safety she yelled, “Raver! Away!”
The black raven either hadn’t heard or he ignored her. He flew around the outcrop and landed on her vambrace. She ducked her arm under her cloak, fearing the dragon would fall on them to get at Raver. Lifting her quarterstaff over her head, she waved it back and forth. “Shoo, dragon! Begone!”
The baby dragon tilted its head sideways, much like Raver liked to do, and opened its mouth, revealing rows of jagged teeth. It fluttered its wings before extending them wide and leaping from the trunk, winging in a tight circle and disappearing beyond the ridgeline.
Legs and hands trembling uncontrollably, Reecah found it hard to remain standing. The Fang was a good day’s trek away and already she wanted to go home. She hadn’t been this shaken witnessing Janor being taken by a full-grown dragon three years ago.
Raver latched onto her tunic and clawed his way to an opening under her chin. She tried to hold him inside but he wiggled free and took to the air.
“Raver, no!” She reached up and missed as he followed the dragon over the ridge. She emitted her shrill whistle, not caring about the hunt. “Raver, to me!” It was no use. Raver wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t like him not to return when called.
Furious at the stubborn bird, she stormed around the remainder of the rock spur and searched the skies up the slope. Neither the dragon nor Raver were in sight. Fearing the worst, she pictured the dragon snacking on her friend.
The hunt was nowhere to be seen. Forgetting her earlier misgivings, she scaled the far side of the crag, searching for Raver.
She shook her head and talked to herself as she broke into a slow jog. “What a stupid bird. Auntie Grim was right. She should’ve cooked you!”
She felt her eyes welling up, which infuriated her further. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him. Raver was her rock.
The sun appeared to rest on the treetops far below when Reecah slowed her pursuit of the hunt—the smell of burning wood reaching her. The crackling of a fire and the hunters’ voices disturbed the slopes.
She crouched low and crept along the ridge, careful where she placed her feet. Any sound now might prove fatal, but she couldn’t resist getting closer to the encampment. The hunters had likely stopped for the night, taking advantage of the last vestiges of light to set up camp before the sun dropped into the ocean—the steely waves visible beyond the treetops.
Her heavy heart lifted when Raver cawed from somewhere below the path and fluttered to a shaky landing on a sapling’s branch beside her.
Relieved he was safe, she watched him struggle to hang onto the branch with his mangled feet. “There you are, you crazy bird. I ought to fletch my arrows with you. Don’t ever do that again or I’ll feed you to the dragon myself.”
Raver bobbed his head as if he understood.
She laughed out loud. Mortified, she slapped her hand over her mouth and hazarded a look below but saw no one.
The dragon hunt sheltered at the base of a tall cliff—one she would either have to descend to the pathway to circumvent or climb over. She didn’t relish giving them an opportunity to catch her. That left ascending the crag. It had proven a tough climb the last time she had been through here, so she decided it best to get it over with tonight.
By the time she scaled down the far side, stars sparkled overhead. The noise of the hunter’s camp lay behind her, the smell of their fire downwind, almost unnoticeable. She located a flat patch of grass amongst a jumble of rockfall and spread a small blanket out.
Sharing a meagre supper with Raver, she lay down and covered herself with the thin blanket to ward off the chill. Her pack under her head, she stared at the stars through breaks in the clouds, ever fascinated by the sky. Oh, what a joy it would be to soar the winds and experience the land from above.
Raver hopped about the rocks, stumbling more often than not and flapping his wings to keep upright.
The bird melted her heart. He had survived a brutal amputation and a raging inferno. His will to survive and make the most out of what life had given him, humbled her. Many people would have wallowed in their misery had their lives taken such a dire turn, but not Raver.
She glanced skyward again, following the silho
uette of the towering crag beside her and gasped. Framed in the full moon a baby dragon perched at the top of the crag staring down.
It was tough to tell with the moon at its back, but she was sure it was the same dragon that had spied on her earlier.
Curiously, even though it was dark, she wasn’t as frightened as she had been during their first encounter. If the dragon wanted to harm her, it could have done so long before now. She wasn’t sure it was aware of her or Raver, but something told her that was why it sat there.
Poppa had often spoken about a dragon’s intelligence. She wondered how he knew stuff like that. As a young child she had accepted everything he told her. Now, as a rational thinking adult, she couldn’t see any reason to think differently.
“Look at you lurking up there,” she said softly. “Are you following me?”
“Following me! Following me!”
Raver’s emphatic mimic of her voice jarred her. “Shh, you silly bird!”
“Silly bird! Silly bird!”
She cringed. Listening to the wind, she feared the hunt might have heard them. No one seemed to have noticed but it took a while for her nerves to settle down.
Having Raver around when stealth was required had its drawbacks. He was great at tracking things from considerable distances but being discreet was another matter. It wasn’t until Raver hopped over and settled under the blanket that she felt she could stop worrying about the hunt.
Staring at the baby dragon, she wondered what it was thinking. Was it waiting for her to fall asleep? Just the thought unnerved her. As enthralled with the wondrous creature as she was, she began wishing the beast would fly away.
As the night wore on, it became increasingly hard to keep her eyes open. On one of the occasions her eyes closed, she drifted off. Opening them again with a start, the dragon was gone.
Dragon Slayers
Raver nibbled at Reecah’s ear lobe, his little tongue flicking in and out. She awoke laughing until she remembered where she was. Dawn broke over The Spine, the snowy peaks refracting the early morning sunlight, though it would be a long time before the sun rose high enough to crest the mountains.
Making sure Raver had cleared her blanket, she rolled onto her side, reflecting on yesterday’s strange encounter. Glancing up, she wasn’t prepared for the sight of the green dragon peering down at her.
She shivered at the relevance that it could’ve attacked her while she slept. Afraid to move, she hoped it would fly away now that she was awake.
Pulling the covers tightly around her to ward off the cold, her hand came to rest on the journal inside her cloak’s inner pocket. Despite her rising anxiety, a peculiar thought crossed her mind. It was as good a time as any to begin her dragon journal. If the dragon remained still.
She retrieved the stick of lead Grimelda had given her, oddly fearing her movements might cause the dragon to fly away. That made her chuckle. She had just wished it would fly away and now she wanted it to stay so she could write down her observations.
She opened the leather-bound book, proud of the embossed gold lettering: Reecah’s Diary. Besides Poppa’s wooden dragon, the journal was surely her most prized possession—dearer than her great-grandmother’s fine weapons.
Propped on an elbow, she deliberated how to begin. She wanted the first entry to be as special as her grandparents. “Hmmm?”
The dragonling fluttered its wings and settled again. That gave her an idea. ‘Dragons: Day One.’ She placed the lead stick to the parchment and tried to write, but it didn’t leave a mark.
She examined the tip. It appeared okay. She tried again. Nothing.
Perhaps it needed sharpening. She located a flat rock near her pack and rubbed the stick against it, leaving grey lines on the rough surface.
She returned to write in the journal but nothing happened.
She closed the book and rubbed the stick against the cover, leaving a faint grey line. “What the…?” Shocked she had marred the cover, she scribbled her name on the flat rock. Other than being messy due to the rock’s even surface, her name was clearly legible.
Opening the book again she scribbled in circles. The paper creased but her efforts did nothing to mark the page. She slammed the book shut. What good was a journal if she couldn’t write in it?
She turned the diary over, trying to solve the riddle of the journal. As the back cover came to face the lurking dragon, the gemstone glinted. That seemed odd. Searching the area for the source of light causing the refraction, she couldn’t find one.
A low growl escaped the baby dragon.
In the distance, Raver squawked out of control.
She sat up, looking around. Something was wrong.
Raver flew closer with each caw, an odd pulsating swoosh following his approach—the significance dawning on her a moment before he streaked across the sky—a winged leviathan rose into view, giving chase.
She jumped to her feet. “Raver, to me!”
The mangled bird tucked his wings in and dove, followed closely by a green dragon many times the size of the one perched above.
Everything happened in rapid succession. Reecah held up her hands in defense as Raver slammed into her vambrace, bounced off her arm, and rolled on the ground, screeching and flapping. Ducking, she expected to be raked by the dragon’s claws—the screaming vision of Janor went through her mind.
Her hair and cloak blew around in the wind created by the adult dragon’s great wings as it hovered in the air between her and the dragonling—its attack seemingly thwarted by the pulse of light emanating from the journal’s gemstone.
“Windwalker?”
Her great-grandmother’s maiden name resonated in her mind. Wondering what made her think of that name, she heard, “Only a Windwalker may command the Communication Stone.”
The words hadn’t been spoken aloud. Not knowing where they came from, she shook her head. She’d never heard of a ‘communication stone.’
The mother dragon bent its long neck to regard its offspring.
“Come my child. Dragon Killers are at hand. We must be away.”
Reecah thought she was going mad.
The mother dragon nudged her baby off the rock with her giant snout, and they quickly became small in the sky, winging northward.
Reecah followed their flight until they disappeared in the mountain shadows. She swallowed at the ludicrous notion forming in her mind. The idea of a talking dragon!
She hadn’t eaten much, nor drank enough water over the past couple of days. Perhaps the anxiety of being watched by the dragonling and then the one she believed to be its mother had made her delusional.
Raver jumped into the air, flying over the trail below.
“There it is again!” A deep voice sounded as if it was right beside her.
“Probably stirred up by the dragons,” Jonas’ voice answered. “Did you see how well that dragonling flew?”
“That’s a bad omen. They’re hatching early. I told you we should’ve set out last week.”
“Ya? Well it’s too late to worry about it now, so drop it!” Jonas’ angry voice passed directly below where Reecah lay flat against the ledge.
A bowstring twanged and Raver squawked, winging higher in the air—the missile missing its mark by the length of a raven’s feather.
“See its toes? It’s the same bird as yesterday,” Jaxon’s high-pitched voice sounded beyond Reecah’s position. “It’s following us.”
A bowstring released from where Jaxon’s voice originated.
Raver squawked his displeasure, but the arrow fell short.
“Save your arrows for the dragons, you fool. It’ll take a hell of a shot to hit the blasted varmint in the air,” the deeper voice scolded.
Reecah shuddered. She couldn’t be sure, but she imagined the voice belonged to Joram.
Several other voices passed beneath her location, following Jaxon up the trail.
As the voices faded beyond the next bend, Reecah breathed a sigh of relief. She
waited a while longer before feeling safe enough to stand. Shaking out her blanket, she stowed her gear and climbed higher into the mountains, her direct course cutting out hours of needless switchbacks and arduous ascents the hunt would take as they approached the Fang.
Before high noon, the notorious curved monolith marking the southwestern end of Dragonfang Pass appeared in the distance.
She had wandered far from the route the hunt travelled and had no way of knowing their present position, but unless they had broken into a fast march, she was confident she’d passed them long ago.
Raver rode on her shoulder until she grew tired of his scratchy claws digging through her cloak, tunic and shift. She coaxed him onto a forearm and walked with him like that as she approached a precarious descent to the ridgeline paralleling the trail.
The sun descended above the whitecaps of the Niad Ocean, the expansive waterbody visible from Reecah’s perch on the Fang a few leagues away. Had she been afraid of heights she never would’ve been able to cling to the small ledge a third of the way up the towering pillar of pale stone.
From a distance, the Fang had looked every bit its namesake—as if carved by the hands of a giant. Up close, it was nothing more than an odd-shaped, naturally occurring rock formation.
She had no idea where Raver had taken off to. The last time she had seen him, he was circling the Fang’s pinnacle. She gazed up at the dizzying height, wishing she possessed the ability to fly. There wasn’t a place in the world that wouldn’t be accessible to her. Well, perhaps not the depths of the ocean. She had no use for the frigid waters. Tales of serpents and other unspeakable terrors from the deep had kept her feet firmly planted on the ground for her first twenty-one years.
Movement along the trail the hunt followed interrupted her thoughts. Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she crouched low, feeling exposed. If someone knew where to look, they might pick her out, especially if she moved. Hunkering beneath her brown cloak, she blended into the multi-coloured textures of the towering rock, its sides riddled with scrabbly trees and lichen.
Reecah's Flight Page 10
