Reecah's Flight

by Richard H. Stephens

  “I have no time for your silliness. You’re nothing but a hindrance. Until you realize your legacy, you’re vulnerable. Into the temple. Now!”

  His acrimonious words drained her resolve. Hanging her head like a berated puppy, she jogged around Grimclaw’s bulk, careful not to get swatted by his agitated tail.

  A tumble of ancient volcanic spillover, pitted and glass-like, fronted the cliff face. Three large steps carved from the lava, their surface smooth and shiny in the moonlight, rose to meet a vaulted marble bridge in the shape of a dragon’s tongue. The pathway bisected towering fangs that curved up taller than she was—almost connecting with those hanging down from above.

  Reecah paused at the back of the marble dragon’s mouth to look back.

  Grimclaw’s large eyes blinked once, the action unable to quench their underlying sadness.

  It broke her heart. It was as if the ancient wyrm had foreseen this day.

  He nodded once, his voice soft in her mind. “Go, Windwalker. I’m honoured to have finally met you.”

  Crouching low, Grimclaw unfurled his expansive wings and took to the night sky, his black scales blending into the darkness and out of sight faster than Reecah wished. She had a sinking premonition she would never see him again.

  Thinking she should cross back over the tongue bridge to search the grounds for something suitable to make a torch, Raver cawed from inside the temple—the black raven invisible in the dark interior—his fluttering wings informing her he flew toward her.

  Holding an arm out, she scooped him out of the air, hanging onto to him until his mangled feet found purchase on her leather forearm cover.

  “Hey!”

  Raver pecked at her cloak, trying to pull the opening aside.

  From within her cloak, the gemstone embedded in her journal had sparked to life. Its light jumped free of her cloak and radiated into the temple.

  Holding the book outstretched before her, she leaned across the threshold and jerked back in fright as a piercing light flared overhead, followed closely by another and then another in quick succession—each one radiating the same light as that of the journal.

  Raver squawked and flew into the tunnel.

  Gemstones much bigger than the one in her diary blinked on, one after another into the distance, as if tracking Raver’s progress. The artificial light illuminated a wide corridor of masterfully carved rock, its walls, floor, and ceiling intricately carved with a continuous scene of dragons, mountains, ocean, and people.

  She couldn’t prevent her lower jaw from dropping. Ambling along the tunnel, her head swivelled in every direction, unable to take in the entirety of intricately depicted scenes.

  A lifelike depiction of a dragon flying over a valley that resembled Dragonfang Pass drew her imagination. She ran her fingertips along it. Carved from the living stone, a woman sat astride the dragon; long hair flowing behind her.

  Goosebumps riddled her skin. She had envisioned this scene her whole life. Had dreamt it time and again in so many different ways. She recalled the giddy feeling of weightlessness she experienced in her dreams—the wind blowing through her hair and the world slipping by far below as she clung to the neck of a dragon.

  If the scene surrounding her bore any truth to the past, people had once lived in harmony with the majestic beasts and soared the skies.

  If not for Raver squawking a warning at the last moment, Reecah would have tumbled over the brink at the end of the tunnel. The passage terminated at a cavernous, cone-like chute rising to dizzying heights before opening up to display the stars in the night sky. Dark clouds roiled across the gap, their edges illuminated by the unseen moon.

  She swallowed. The Dragon Temple had been carved into the heart of a volcano. An unusual sense of vertigo dropped her to her knees. Mustering her nerve, she crept to the brink and peered down. The cleft fell away into impenetrable blackness.

  A narrow ledge branched off the end of the entrance tunnel, circling the interior of the crater in both directions. Numerous passages ran off the inner circle at random intervals—the side tunnels glowing in the same light as that of her journal.

  Backing away from the defile, Reecah brushed volcanic dust from her clothes. She glanced back the way she had come, wanting desperately to return to the courtyard and search for Grimclaw.

  She sighed. He had made it abundantly clear he didn’t want her out there. Not knowing where to begin looking for him now that he’d flown off, she was loath to wander the forest at night.

  Her mind returned to her near-encounter with Scarletclaws in the woods. If the red dragon was running around the forest, that meant Silence had been...

  She swallowed. She should have never left the purple dragon.

  A shiver gripped her. One that had nothing to do with the chill in the temple. Where were Lurker and Swoop? They were supposed to join her on the temple grounds.

  Withdrawing her sword, she sprinted up the entrance tunnel. Whether Grimclaw liked it or not, she wasn’t prepared to allow another dragon to suffer because of her. If she couldn’t stand by them, she didn’t deserve their fealty.

  Halfway to the exit, the tunnel shook under her feet. Losing her footing, she went down hard in a puff of dust. Inhaling a lungful of airborne silt, she struggled to her feet, coughing. She leaned against the wall, scanning the passage through watery eyes, searching for the cause of the tremor. Her knees and elbows felt like they were on fire. Without having to look at them, she knew they were badly scraped.

  A fearsome roar thundered outside. The inside of the marble dragon head flickered in an orangey-red glow—the sound of flames crackled; stronger than any fire she’d ever witnessed—including the one that had gutted Grimelda’s Clutch. Dragon fire!

  Ignoring her skin abrasions, she winced at the pain in her lungs as she bounded up the corridor—despairing, not for the first time about leaving her bow and arrows behind.

  The closer she got to the exit, the louder the noises of a battle raging outside filled the tunnel. The din alone made it sound like two great armies were clashing on the temple’s doorstep.

  Reducing her pace, a sense of self-preservation warned her of an impending death if she ventured into the marble dragon head.

  Spoken tales of her parents—the only memories she had—whirled through her mind. Grammy’s stern voice despising the dragons for stealing her children, thundered its alarm. Reecah envisioned Grammy with a raised finger, berating her for casting her lot with the feral beasts. Her pace slowed to a walk.

  The many faces of villagers she hardly knew mocked her. Who gave an orphaned girl the right to oppose the edict of the high king? Shame on her.

  Raver cawed up ahead, his silky feathers refracting another bout of roaring flames.

  The raven reminded her of Auntie Grim. The eclectic crone’s mannerisms and bizarre rituals had reinforced the villagers’ belief that dragons and magic were devices wielded by dark forces—the epitome of all that was wrong with the world. How dare she gainsay the mandate of the high king?

  Distant memories of Poppa stepped forward, brushing those thoughts aside. Not disagreeing with the villagers’ sentiments—more like assuring her it was okay to come to her own conclusions. To trust in herself and not waste her time worrying about what others thought. It was her life. If she believed she could fly, however impossible people said that would be, Poppa’s philosophy was to never dismiss her dreams. It was up to her to make them happen.

  Goosebumps riddled her skin. She cast her gaze at the wall—at the picture of the woman flying the dragon. Humans didn’t possess the ability to fly, but that didn’t mean flight was impossible.

  The tunnel shook. Dust filtered down from the thick edges of carved rock, diffusing the light from the gemstones and blurring her view of the exit. A shriek of agony reverberated down the tunnel. Grimclaw’s torment called to her.

  Springing into action, she ran faster than ever before. The ancient wyrm was in trouble and it was up to her to save him. Proficient
with a sword or not, they would face the aggressors together or die in the attempt. She no longer feared for her life. If she didn’t do what she could to help Grimclaw, she would die inside anyway.

  A ball of ice exploded against the back of the marble dragon’s throat. The revelation of the magical bolt struck her. Grimclaw faced more than blades and arrows. He was dueling with a wizard.

  Pressing her soft-soled boots against the dusty marble floor, she slid, trying to avoid the aftermath of the strike. She held her forearms in front of her face, shrieking as the leather vambraces absorbed cold from the dissipating wizard’s bolt.

  Arresting her slide against a marble tooth, she hung onto the curved pillar for support and cast a stunned gaze at the scene unfolding outside.

  Flames engulfed the courtyard, their erratic path running beyond the thick wall to the ivy parapet. How the dozens of black-plated knights stood amongst the burning fires without shriveling, Reecah couldn’t comprehend, and yet, there they were, facing an enraged dragon.

  Grimclaw’s hide bled from several locations—thick blood oozing from beneath damaged scales. His head swung back and forth trying to keep the black knights at bay but they kept coming—fearlessly venturing forth the moment his attention fell on the next man.

  “Reecah!” A familiar voice rose above the din.

  Searching the grounds, she located the one responsible.

  “Reecah?” Grimclaw’s head craned back to find her, desperation written in his pained eyes. “Run, Windwalker, run!”

  She ducked as Grimclaw’s massive tail swung at the marble dragon head, violently impacting the entranceway.

  Stumbling backward to avoid being hit, she held up her arms. A thunderous crack rocked the exit. Chunks of marble collapsed to the entry bridge—the ensuing avalanche of broken rock sealed off the tunnel from the outside world.

  Running through the dark forest, it wasn’t hard for Junior to discover where Jaxon had led the prince and his elite guard. Concussions rent the mountainside ahead, the area flickering from the glow of many fires.

  To the west, distant dragon cries and the occasional grumble of something large colliding with the ground could only mean the original army of king’s men had engaged Dragon Home.

  An ear-piercing shriek split the night air, full of intense pain.

  Materializing out of the dark wood ahead, Junior ran for the smoldering breach in an ivy-covered wall—the area beyond awash in fire.

  Running through the gap, a moss-covered wall rose into the trees to his right, the granite barrier penetrated by an arched tunnel. From where he stood, he witnessed a battle taking place beyond the second wall.

  Gritting his teeth, wondering what possessed him to run toward certain death, he passed through the tunnel and stopped. His jaw dropped.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating what the unchecked banks of fire didn’t. A ring of black knights confronted an enormous dragon—the midnight black leviathan spewing swaths of deadly fire. His knees felt weak.

  Leaning against the tunnel wall, his attention was diverted by an errant ice bolt issued from the hands of the prince. The crackling sphere, no bigger than his fist, missed the dragon’s swinging head and flew into the open maw of what appeared to be a marble statue of a massive dragon head.

  The ice-ball exploded against the back of the marble dragon’s throat, freezing the wall and disintegrating into a thousand frozen shards.

  Junior gaped at the unexpected sight appearing in the ice- ball’s wake. Reecah stared out at the scene, a sword in one hand and a quarterstaff in the other.

  Junior pulled his sword from over his back. “Reecah!”

  The dragon turned his attention on her.

  Unable to do anything but watch, Junior winced as the dragon’s tail smashed the marble entranceway. The last thing he saw of Reecah was her throwing her hands up in a futile attempt to hold back the ensuing avalanche.

  Blind Truth

  Marble crashed to the ground in front of Reecah, accompanied by granite boulders and dirt—the grating noise, one she would not soon forget. When the dust cleared, the rockfall muted the raging battle outside to a distant rumble.

  Pushing and kicking at the rubble, she clambered to the tunnel’s ceiling and pushed with everything she had but the rockfall was too heavy for her to move.

  She half climbed, half slid down the pile until she sat with her back to it. Throwing her weapons to the ground, she buried her face in her hands and cried, infuriated at her inability to help Grimclaw.

  Her chest falls came in great, angered heaves. She had spent her life ignoring those intent on abusing her physically and emotionally—playing cruel tricks on her when she was young and slandering her family as she grew older. She had learned to turn her cheek on the people who professed their superiority. She had endured a lifetime of avoiding people who went out of their way to voice their opinions on the pitiful Draakvriend family secluded on the hill.

  She abhorred the bitterness darkening her soul. Poppa and Grammy had raised her better than that, but she had had enough. Everyone she had come into contact with acted the opposite of what she was taught to be the proper way to behave. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps she was the odd one. Gritting her teeth, she wiped her face on a vambrace, smearing the smooth leather with tears and snot.

  She jumped to her feet and pushed and pulled at the rubble, as if the passage of time had made a difference to its composition. Kicking out in despair, she grimaced and hopped around. There was a good chance she’d broken her big toe. The self-inflicted pain enraged her further.

  Grimclaw’s muffled cry reached her through the barrier. Its tone of finality got her moving. She had to find another way out of the temple. Empowered by the ancient dragon’s plight, she sheathed her sword, grabbed her quarterstaff and sprinted away from the danger, swiftly arriving at the end of the tunnel.

  Storm clouds drifted beyond the unreachable gap high overhead, their swirling mass flickering with lightning that flashed eerily off the crater’s walls. Visible in the glow of the surrounding side tunnels, a heavy rain fell into the heart of the volcano.

  Raver called out from somewhere to her right. Turning in that direction, she pulled her journal free and used the shining stone to search for the bird. Perhaps Grimelda’s pet knew more than Reecah gave him credit for.

  She came across a tunnel branching off into the mountain, but Raver called again, farther along.

  “Where are you?” she shouted, her voice echoing and fading into the depths. “To me!”

  “To me! To me!”

  She panned her journal around, but the stygian pitch of the crater swallowed its light. The notion of Raver actually communicating with her rather than just repeating her words made her wonder at his response. Could it be true?

  “Raver, to me!” Her voice echoed.

  “To me! To me!” Raver answered.

  It wasn’t like the raven to disobey her command. He usually returned as soon as she called him.

  The next tunnel was a fair hike around the interior of the crater. If she didn’t find an exit soon, she feared Grimclaw would be long dead before she made it back to him. The gods only knew where another exit would take her.

  Her footfalls barely made a sound along the inside ledge as she thought about Jonas Junior. A numbing cold seized her heart. Embarrassed at being caught bathing below the waterfall, she had foolishly told him of her destination. The traitorous cretin had led the king’s men right to her. If Grimclaw died as a result, she vowed to kill the bastard with her bare hands.

  Screaming at how everything had worked out, her high-pitched wail echoed into the depths, mocking her.

  Raver’s call prevented her from sinking into a pit of self-loathing. The bird stood on the threshold of a tunnel she hadn’t noticed in the dark crater. On closer inspection, with the aid of the journal’s light, a small landing led to the top of a steep stairwell spiralling into the earth.

  “What is it, Raver?”

  The
raven blinked.

  The foreboding passageway didn’t look promising. She needed to find a fast way out of the temple—not descend into the bowels of a volcano. “Is the exit down there?”

  Raver bobbed his head. “Down there! Down there!” He skittered to the top step and took flight, his black form swallowed by the impenetrable darkness. No gemstones illuminated this tunnel.

  Unperturbed, she chased after the bird. Her journal would show her the way.

  Setting foot on the top step, her gemstone blinked out. A tooth-rattling scrape of heavy stone rumbled behind her, shaking her to the core.

  If not for the tightness of the stairwell she might have fallen down the gaping shaft. Bracing her hands against the stone wall, she felt behind her. In the absolute darkness, her touch confirmed that a slab of rock had sealed her inside the tunnel.

  She leaned against the barricade, wanting nothing more than to drop to the ground in despair, but Grimclaw’s plight kept her moving. Stashing the journal inside her cloak, she descended into the ground, patting the unseen wall curving in on itself, hoping the rock wasn’t about to drop away and send her tumbling into oblivion.

  If not for Raver’s occasional caw, each one sounding farther into the ground than the last, she might have faltered. The irony struck her. Had she been anywhere else, she would have applauded Raver’s fortitude. It wasn’t the first time the silly bird had proven itself braver than her.

  The stairwell seemed to go on forever in her heightened state of fright, but she eventually reached the bottom step—almost pitching forward when her next footfall landed on stone level with her last.

  Her quarterstaff rattled off the edge of the wall and flailed out beside her—the clatter echoing hollowly ahead. Just as she feared, the wall had fallen away. From what she could ascertain, she stood on the edge of a subterranean cavern.

  Probing the floor ahead with her staff, she was puzzled. There didn’t appear to be any ground in front of her. It was as if…

  A ‘snick’ from the staircase behind, accompanied by an ominous rumbling of rock grating together, jarred her senses. Using her quarterstaff, she probed where she believed the steps to be but was met by solid rock. The stairs had disappeared!