Reecah's Flight

by Richard H. Stephens

  Jaxon glared, his face purple. “I’m telling Father.”

  “Fine. Go tell him.”

  Jaxon didn’t move.

  Junior grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away from Reecah, shoving him up the trail. “Go! I’ll deal with you later.”

  Reecah thought the brothers were about to engage in a sword fight but Jaxon broke Junior’s stare and stomped around the rockfall out of sight.

  Reecah tried to steady her breathing. She walked back to the baby dragon, her eyes never leaving Jonas Junior. “Look what you’ve done.”

  Junior looked abashed. He took a couple of steps toward her. “Let me kill it.”

  Reecah raised her sword. “How about I kill you, instead?”

  Junior stopped, holding up his free hand. “Whoa, Miss Reecah. I ain’t meaning you no harm.” He slid his sword into its sheath. “Why don’t you come with me. We can protect you.”

  “From what? Helpless babies?” Reecah was so angry she spat on the ground, the act shocking her almost as much as the look on Junior’s face.

  “I, um…no, but…there are adult dragons flying around. If they get wind of you, you’re finished.”

  Still clutching her sword, Reecah crossed her arms below her chest. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “But, Miss Reecah, there’s someone else out here. Following us and blocking our path.”

  Reecah shook her head. “You’re as stupid as your father.”

  Junior frowned.

  “Who do you think is following you?”

  It took Junior a moment for realization set in.

  “You?”

  Reecah raised her eyebrows. She nodded at the dying dragonling, fervour returning to her voice. “Judging by your trail of murder, I’ve obviously failed at stopping the hunt.”

  “Stopping the hunt? What would possess you to do that?”

  Reecah was done with talking. The baby dragon didn’t have much longer. “Leave me alone.”

  Junior appeared to be struggling with what he should do.

  Reecah pointed her sword at him. “Are you deaf? Get out of here, you butcher, before you share the dragon’s fate.”

  Junior’s gaze flicked from her to the dragonling and back again. He swallowed and without another word, followed his brother around the rockfall.

  As soon as she lost sight of Junior, Reecah’s composure left her. Her hands shook so badly she found herself incapable of sheathing her sword without sticking herself or severing her fingers.

  She threw the blade to the ground and dropped beside the purple dragon. Her whole body trembled as she looked into its vacant eyes. It had died alone while she argued with the Waverunner brothers. She wanted to scream. Letting her tears flow, she stroked the baby’s face, giving it the love it never knew.

  Incensed

  Jonas Waverunner cupped his sore knuckles in his other hand, glaring at his boy sprawled beside the campfire.

  Jaxon stood off to the side with his arms crossed.

  Jonas Junior rose up on an elbow, cupping his chin. “Geez, why’d you go and do that for?”

  Jonas spat on the ground, just missing Junior’s knee. “Next time you decide to get sweet on that Draakvriend troublemaker, I’ll show you what I really think. You got that?”

  Junior knew better than to say what he was really thinking. He pulled his hand away from his mouth. He was bleeding.

  Jonas kicked him in the thigh. “I can’t hear you, boy!”

  Junior nodded, unable to keep the anger from his voice. “Yes, Father. I got it.”

  Junior feared his father would kick him again but Jonas grunted and stormed around the campfire, past the stares of the rest of the men who pretended to be busy eating their evening meal.

  Junior flashed his brother a dirty look. This was his doing.

  Jaxon raised his eyebrows. He spat on the ground, emulating their father, and joined their peers around the fire.

  Junior stared after him. Jaxon was exactly like their father in every way except size. He couldn’t wait to get him alone. His brother would pay for his loose lips.

  Getting to his feet, Junior brushed the worst of the dirt from his clothes and found a spot on the far side of the campfire from Jaxon. Without meeting anyone’s gaze, he grabbed a bowl from a stack beside the fire and spooned his share of gurgling gruel from an iron pot suspended above the flames. The thick paste stung his split lip.

  He kept his own counsel as conversation resumed around the fire. The men spoke glowingly of the day’s exploits. One dragon last night and five more today.

  He bristled when Grog, the beefiest firebreaker and largest man on the hunt, said, “Jaxon, today’s success is a tribute to your exceptional tracking skills. I don’t recall a more successful first day.”

  Junior watched Jaxon’s reaction from beneath a lowered brow. His brother’s arrogant smile irritated him.

  The second tracker, Portus, lifted his grey-haired head from his supper, scowling, but remained quiet. Portus had taken over as lead tracker of the hunt when Viliyam Draakvriend had reportedly slipped off a high cliff while extricating a baby dragon. Many of those who had been on that hunt fifteen years ago, secretly claimed Viliyam died trying to set the dragon free. Thinking back, Junior couldn’t refute those claims.

  Junior had been ten years old back then—delighted to partake in his first hunt. Ignoring his mother’s heated protests, his father had insisted on bringing Junior along as a spectator, stating that if his boy were to take over the hunt one day, he needed to learn it from an early age.

  “Yep. Six dragons in less than a day’s span.” Jaxon puffed his chest. “Two green, a blue, a brown, an orange that had already flown at least once, and…” He glanced at Junior. “Despite the intervention of our local hill witch, a rare purple.”

  His brother’s words grated in his skull, but Junior refused to rise to the bait. Jaxon needed to be knocked down a notch or two.

  “I hope whoever follows us has his way with Draakvriend,” a gaunt man with greasy black hair draped over half his face said, his voice nothing more than a snake’s rattle. “I’d have at her, if you take my meaning.”

  The men seated around the fire imitated his chilling laugh.

  They humoured the man, not because they thought he was funny, but because they were afraid to get on Viper’s wrong side. Even his father seemed wary of the man clad from head to foot in black leather. There was no doubting Viper’s proficiency with his wide-bladed scimitar.

  Junior hadn’t bothered mentioning that Reecah was the one following them. He shuddered to think what these scoundrels would do if they caught her.

  “What’s the matter, JJ? Does your brother speak the truth?” Viper nudged the gruff firebreaker sitting beside him, motioning to Junior with a subtle jut of his pointy chin.

  Junior met the snake’s icy glare.

  A cynical sneer lifted the corner of Viper’s thin lips. “I’ve said for years you’re too soft to be a Waverunner. I’m thinking Jonas got it wrong naming you Junior.” Viper’s tone dared Junior to respond.

  Junior held his gaze, the tension around the campfire palpable. He was almost twice Viper’s size but he broke eye contact first.

  Viper hocked and spat into the flames. “Just as I thought.”

  Junior took a couple of heavy breaths. He tossed his unfinished bowl to the ground. Ignoring the laughter around the campfire, he stormed down the path—back toward where he knew Reecah would be coming.

  Lurker!

  Reecah awoke cold and hungry in the wee hours of the morning. She had tracked the hunt into the darkness but the uneven terrain precluded her making up any more ground.

  It took her a long time to fall asleep in the hollow between a thick pine and a cliff wall. She couldn’t get the purple dragonling out of her head. What bothered her most was her inability to exact retribution for the travesty. She begrudged the fact she hadn’t spent the years since Grammy died finding someone to train her on the proper use of her
weapons. Since she hadn’t, they were barely more than sentimental ornaments hanging from her belt.

  Even so, wearing them made her feel dangerous. In still water reflections she looked like someone to be reckoned with, kitted out in great-grandmother’s spectacular gear. Unfortunately, perception wouldn’t help her confront the people whose actions haunted her.

  The image of Jonas Junior’s surprise when he discovered she was responsible for sabotaging their route jumped into her mind. She thought it strange he hadn’t reacted worse than he had—like his father would have—but the damage was done. Once Junior reported her to his father, Jonas would run her out of town. Or worse.

  Everything about Jonas gave her the chills. Although she had never ventured anywhere else in the kingdom, she couldn’t imagine anyone nastier than the dragon hunt leader. And his brother! Just the thought of Joram made her skin crawl.

  Tucked beneath her cloak, Raver emitted a soft coo, pushing away her dark thoughts. Shivering in the pale darkness, she didn’t think she would ever be warm again.

  Her chills brought her full circle to the purple dragonling—remembering how cold the dying baby had felt to her touch. She had spent a good part of the previous day covering its body with stones, hoping to keep mountain scavengers from desecrating its corpse any further, all the while afraid its mother would catch her in the act. She left her blanket wrapped around it—the massive amount of blood the cloth had soaked up rendered the blanket useless to her.

  The moon drifted into a gap in the leaden clouds, illuminating the mountainside. A coyote called out, the feral animal sounding leagues away but she wasn’t naïve to the way the mountains distorted sounds and distances. For all she knew, the coyote might be on a ledge above her.

  Her gaze followed her thoughts, gasping at the sight staring down at her. The green baby dragon—its emerald eyes glinting in the moonlight.

  After her initial shock, she found herself staring at the creature in wonder—a twinge of fear tingling the periphery of her consciousness. She’d been so preoccupied with chasing the hunt and stumbling across the grizzly killing grounds left in their wake that she had forgotten her encounter yesterday morning. She almost laughed. She had come close to being eaten by a full-grown dragon—how could anyone forget something like that?

  Her eyes grew wide. The journal!

  She reached into her cloak and withdrew the leather-bound book, its gold lettering sparkling in the moonlight.

  Raver struggled to free himself from her cloak. He nipped her side, the pinch of his beak felt through her tunic.

  “Ow!” She dropped the book and scooted sideways, trying to distance herself but Raver was caught in the folds and nipped her again.

  “You little bugger!” she screeched and stood up, opening her cloak.

  Raver dropped to the ground and emerged from under the cloak’s hem. He poked his beak at her. “Little bugger! Little bugger!”

  She wanted to kick him, but her concern that she may have hurt him when he fell, kept her foot at bay. She crouched to check, but he took to the air, flying onto one of the prickly pine boughs.

  Glaring at her impetuous friend, she scolded, “Auntie Grim was right. You’re a dirty bird.”

  He bobbed his head up and down. “Dirty bird! Dirty bird!”

  The baby dragon adjusted its wings, drawing her attention.

  Even with the distance separating them, she was positive it smiled at her. She stepped away from the pine tree to get a better look and stumbled over her journal.

  Shaking her head at her clumsiness she bent down to snatch up the book but stopped and stared. The journal lay open with its first page showing. Written in what appeared to be black ink were bold runes. She read their message.

  Windwalker?

  Only a Windwalker may command the Communication Stone.

  Come my child. Dragon Killers are at hand.

  We must be away.

  She frowned as it dawned on her. Those were the same words that had resounded inside her head when the mother dragon hovered over her yesterday.

  “But how?” she mouthed, stunned.

  She glanced at the baby. Holding the journal up, she almost dropped it again. The gemstone flickered.

  Looking from the gemstone to the dragon and back, her mind flooded with a vision of a little girl and a grey-haired man standing on the crest of a steep hill overlooking the Niad Ocean. A clear image of Poppa flashed through her mind as if he stood right there in front of her.

  Poppa put her down and reached inside his tunic to pull out a walnut sized, crimson gemstone she had never seen before. He crouched down to her level.

  “Wow.” Reecah accepted it in her small palm. “For me?”

  Poppa smiled. “That was your mother’s. I need you to take good care of it for me until I come back. Can you do that?”

  Reecah nodded.

  “Promise me you won’t tell anyone else about it.”

  “Not even Grammy?”

  Poppa’s response surprised her. “Especially not Grammy.”

  Reecah turned the multi-faceted stone over in her hands, running a finger along its one flat side. “What’s it do?”

  Poppa swallowed, his eyes on the verge of tears. “There’s no time to explain it to you now. When the time comes, it’ll all become clear, okay?”

  As the vision faded, comprehension shocked her to the core. The red gemstone was the communication stone the mother dragon spoke of.

  She spurted out a wet laugh, conscious of the tears flowing down her cheeks. If she was right, the gemstone allowed her to converse with dragons! At least one of them anyway.

  She smiled at the baby dragon, giddy with newfound knowledge. “Hey you, lurking up there, can you hear me?”

  The baby dragon didn’t respond as such but it blinked twice.

  “You can hear me. I knew it.” Reecah raised her voice. “Speak to me. Say something.”

  The baby blinked several more times.

  Reecah frowned. She was missing something. The gemstone glowed softly. Its light fluttered and became constant again.

  She gazed at the dragon. “Did you just nod your head at me?”

  The gemstone flickered again.

  “No!” she said in awe as the relevance of what she was witnessing struck home.

  Inside the journal, inscribed in bold runes below the three original lines were the words;

  Yes.

  I did. You just can’t hear me yet.

  Yes.

  Goosebumps rippled across her skin. She nearly dropped the journal as she staggered against the cliff for support.

  Stepping into the open, it took a moment to find her voice. “My name is Reecah. I’m glad to meet you.”

  She dropped her gaze to the journal. Nothing happened at first but when the gemstone shimmered, runes printed across the page.

  Mother said your name is Windwalker.

  Reecah struggled to read the text through watery eyes, overwhelmed by the fact that she was actually communicating with a dragon. She nodded at the text. “Yes, yes. Windwalker. That was my great-grandmother’s last name.

  Last name? I don’t understand.

  Giddy, Reecah laughed. “My first name is Reecah. My last name is Draakvriend, given to me by my grandfather and…” She paused. She’d never thought about it before. She hadn’t inherited her father’s last name.

  The gemstone’s light wavered.

  You have more than one name?

  Dragons only have one.

  Reecah swallowed, trying to come to terms with why her last name wasn’t her father’s. “Um, yes. So, what’s your name?”

  A long rune that Reecah had never seen before printed across the page, comprising an entire line.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t read it.”

  Mother said people can’t pronounce our names.

  Reecah stared at her new friend. “What should I call you then? You need a name. One that I can pronounce.”

  An important thought took
root. “Are you a boy or a girl? You know, male or female?”

  At once the gemstone flashed.

  Male.

  “Male, hmm?” Chin in hand, she pondered, “What shall I call my friendly lurker.”

  Raver scrabbled out on the limb. “Lurker! Lurker!”

  Reecah stared at the raven. “Lurker. That’s it! You’re a genius, Raver.”

  Raver bobbed his head up and down. “Genius Raver! Genius Raver!”

  The baby dragon turned his head sideways, watching Raver.

  Reecah pointed an admonishing finger. “We need to set some ground rules if you and I are to be friends. Rule number one: friends don’t eat each other or each other’s friends. You understand me? Raver here,” she indicated the raven, “is Reecah’s friend.”

  “Reecah’s friend! Reecah’s friend!”

  Mother says dragons and people are enemies.

  Lurker extended his head to glance up and down the valley.

  I’m supposed to stay away from people.

  I should go.

  “Please don’t,” Reecah pleaded. “I would never hurt you.”

  Several dragons were killed yesterday.

  “That saddens me as well.”

  They were killed by the people you were with.

  Mother said to stay away from you.

  That took Reecah by surprise. “No, please. I don’t have anything to do with them.”

  I watched you from afar.

  You spoke with two of them.

  Since you didn’t kill them, you must be with them.

  “I assure you, we’re anything but friends. Just because I didn’t kill them doesn’t mean I like them.”

  If they are not friends, they are enemies.

  She didn’t know what to say to that. “I guess you could say they are kind of like enemies. I certainly don’t like them.”

  Why didn’t you kill them?

  Reecah spit out a nervous laugh. “They would’ve killed me. I’m not strong enough to fight them. Just because we’re not friends doesn’t mean I should kill them.”

  Reecah waited for the next line of runes but they never came. She felt the euphoria of bonding with the dragon slipping away.