by Marc Secchia
“Highness? That’s Storm’s title, dinnae ye ken?”
He winked at the gleaming dragonet, who inclined her muzzle regally. Keee-irr rrr-it.
Figured! “She says I’m right.”
Scratching the dragonet fondly beneath the chin, Shanryssill chuckled, “Well, at least ye have met yer match in rascally nature this Winterfall, son!”
* * * *
The boreal wind was harbinger of the jungle’s steamy heat. If the weather conditions held, Keir knew, they could warm the entire Amarinthian Bulwark and bring what was called an Elven Springtide, a Springtide that was earlier and much warmer than usual. Many regarded the boreal wind as a sign of good fortune. The Elves in turn welcomed a boreal wind because it brought relief and refreshment from the period of unremitting humidity that preceded it, circulating in fresh, cool air from the Northern Tundra – a gift from Elven relatives, it was commonly called. The thunderstorms might abate for several weeks or even a whole month, drying out the jungle – as much as it ever dried out, he reckoned.
A flat and largely untaxing walk, the northerly trail wound steadily around the barren flanks of the mountains which had begun to draw in again, leading to steeper slopes and the need to more frequently navigate the storm water and meltwater gullies that carved across the path. In centuries past, Elven and Human engineers had bridged many of the deeper gullies with neat, close-fitted stone arched bridges. Nowadays, one hardly needed to wet one’s boots unless a downpour of the magnitude of last night’s turned up. From time to time they passed by or beneath great spidery shadugiin trees, their branches and tiny, waxy white flowers standing sharply etched against a cloudless mauve sky. This ledge, less than a quarter-mile wide in the main before the mountains rose sheer into the mauve, remained stubbornly barren, in stark contrast to the view to their right.
Keir wished he could walk over to gawk.
At their lunchtime stop, he borrowed one of his father’s canes to hobble to the edge. He probably caused both of his parents several heart attacks apiece as he settled himself upon an outcropping right at the edge. Actually, overhanging the edge. His feet dangled in space.
He just wanted to soak up the incredible view.
Here, the cliff edge that carved away into the mighty jungle depths was not merely sheer, it even undercut the ledge by several hundred feet for as far as the eye could see. Despite the passage of time, the basal rock was sharp-edged, lending credence to that old belief that Santazathiar’s own claws had carved out this realm for the jungles. Beneath his feet the drop was so deep the bottom was as black as pitch, but out of that darkness rose a wall of foliage of such teeming, towering magnificence, it never failed to take his breath away. Here, the nearest branches reached perhaps one hundred feet from his toes. Had he wings, he imagined, he could simply have leaped out there and glided into the verdant explosion like so many of the birds and smaller insects were doing.
The contrast between tan barrens, etched stone diving into blackness, and lush jungle was stark.
He jumped slightly as a small person pressed herself against his arm. He had been so preoccupied, he had not heard her approach. Arami carried her kitten in the crook of one arm, and Auroral Storm Diamond came with her.
“What ye looking at, Keir?”
Blunt as always. Quashing a chuckle, he said, “Home. Our other home.”
“It dinnae feel like home … maybe it does,” his little sister puzzled out her feelings. “D’ye feel …”
“Och aye, that I do. That’s the Elf in ye, girlie, calling to the jungle.”
“Dinnae ye call me girlie. I’m a brave warrior just like ye.”
“That ye are.”
Her tone betrayed other emotions.
Gradually, wishing to make neither a song nor a dance of it, he drew her onto his lap and put his arms around her. He had learned to appreciate these unguarded moments with Arami, for this twin’s spirit was fierce and independent. She was not one for being coddled like her sister.
“How’s Storm’s measure? Saw ye writing –”
“Good. End Marus, she’s fifty inches long and stands a foot at the shoulder – it’s like she’s stuck inside that hide, bursting to come out,” she said.
“Dinnae ye just say!” Perfect image. “Talons?”
“One inch.”
She itched at her wooden cast. That should come off soon, Keir imagined, easing his own foot up to rest it sideways along the rock. Hanging down, the blood flow still made it throb.
He said, “I was kind of scared when ye broke yer arm, ye ken? Were ye nae scared of the avalanche?”
“Nae,” she said, pinching his arm for emphasis. “But when ye were lost and under that tree, hurting, I felt scared-ish. Only a little; only because Mommy was scared. How’s yer foot?”
“New colours every day,” he chuckled.
“Aye, but ye got that metal thing. That’s neat, that is. Mine’s just a silly wooden cast. Is Mommy alright now, Keir? Is she all fixed?”
Arami laughed as the dragonet insistently prodded her arm until she put it around her neck, and drew her close. Shrrr rrr-it, she said. Keee-irr rrr-it. Arrr-ooi … frr-nee.
“Funny, am I? Ye silly old stick,” his sister laughed again.
Keir said, “Aye, Arami, that she is. Santaclaws did a right proper miracle at Christmastide for our family. The anna’s turning to Springtide, and we’re about to take a jungle walk with our very own Dragoness. Dinnae that just tickle yer fancy?”
“When I’m big, I’m going to be a Dragon Rider just like ye.”
“Och aye, that ye are,” he agreed. One thing. The ‘how’ was absent from his vocabulary just now. “That ye are,” he repeated, turning it into a promise in his heart.
Funny thing about promises. The impossible did not seem nearly so far out of reach when he had a Dragoness by his side. Maybe he should be working on having faith minus the need to be cudgelled over the earhole by destiny before it truly sunk in.
“Mommy said she was having kittens when ye came over here,” Arami confided.
“Did she?”
“Aye, so I came to look after ye.” He could not resist giving her a hug for that. “Oof,” she complained. One hundred percent predictable. “Storm’s here to look after ye, too. We’re both wicked fierce warriors, we are.”
The Sabarikan kitten snuck out of Arami’s arms to play a game of roll-and-tussle with Auroral Storm Diamond. Keir pointed out a family of Jazzuine Tree Gorillas sunning themselves on a handy bough about a thousand feet distant; Arami’s eyes grew round as she considered their size. Aye. Small house, or thereabouts. The silver-grey apes lazed about in leafy cradles, tossing each other fruit and picking at each other’s fleas or mites. He teased her that he could not wait to show her a gorilla flea. They grew up to an inch in size and could jump three times a man’s height.
Tomorrow, they would reach the Bridge Beyond, the first entryway to the jungle.
Close. Soon, his family would be safe.
Now Narini came over with a drink for him – a Rhyl concoction with restorative medicinal properties, he judged – and without so much as saying a word, conveyed that she would very much like space on her brother’s lap, too. Arami wriggled over a smidgen. Typical Elves. Even on the edge of this mighty drop, their hearts remained fearless.
Soon, curiosity won out and the questions came flooding in.
Ignoring the ache in his injured foot, Keir told them all about the birds and insects they could see. A battalion of brilliant royal mauve Marauder Butterflies swept around a treetop hardly a stone’s throw away. He pointed out how the butterflies, which boasted a three-foot wingspan, were subdraconic in nature – not nectarivores like the normal butterflies they knew, but insectivores. Generally, Elves recognised the draconic types of creatures by their armour and offensive weaponry, which included stings, talons and mandibles, and an incredible variety of specialised weapons, including glue-lariats, fire, superheated steam and poison, to name but a few. Many were
also masters of camouflage.
This led to a discussion about how Elves moved through the jungle. A ‘jungle walk’ included walking along boughs, fallen trunks and major arterial vines. After that came ‘glissading,’ referring to the method of jumping from bough to springy bough; ‘canopy swinging,’ or swinging from vine to vertical vine like the primates were wont to, and ‘hand-handing,’ a way of travelling dangling from horizontal-growing vines and what Elves called basket-weave, the thick jungle layers that largely prevented one from falling too far unless one was travelling over or around a clearing. Then, it was time to be careful. Even a fall of fifty feet could be nasty, but this was hardly the worst fall one could take in the jungles. He had heard of an Elf who had survived a fall of over a mile by falling right into the bowl of a giant pitcher-plant – the impact had exploded the plant from the inside, but she had survived.
Arami could not wait to try everything. Narini insisted she would be doing nothing but walking, thank ye kindly.
Keir would be doing none of the above. Not for several weeks yet, minimum. The recovery of feeling in his foot crept along at the speed of a rabid snail – some sensation had returned, but little enough that he feared he would fail to make a full recovery. Shanryssill said he must try walking soon. Too true. All this sitting around being carried places was not good for his ego, never mind anything else!
He sighed, remembering his little sister’s wise words. ‘Dinnae ye be afraid, Keirthynal. The heart of Santaclaws himself beats within ye.’
What exactly did that mean? Why had she said it in just that way?
Much to contemplate, but: family first. Get them to Aryssillati Clan territory near Faifarathi Elvenholme. Then, he could dare to think of the future.
* * * *
With fair weather and the fire of returning home burning in every breast, the Elves made excellent time but by evening, were still eight miles short of the Bridge Beyond. Kalar reluctantly issued the order to make camp. Even he, full-blood Human as he was, had an unmistakable gleam in his eye. It was that yearning for home, for the jungle deeps. Keir pulled Rhyl’s leg about her hair turning all curly due to the humidity. She acted unimpressed. On edge?
Aye. Keir caught her up, awake, when he awoke to a thundering roar from the jungle in the middle of the night. She said it was nothing.
The following morning, the Elves enjoyed a quick communal trail breakfast of dried meat, fruits and berries, plus the last of their bread. Waking, Keir discovered his shirt was missing most of the front. Auroral Storm Diamond must have been feeling peckish in the night. How she had managed that feat without disturbing him in the slightest … he was usually such a light sleeper. This healing up of bones must be taking more out of him than he imagined.
Heroes in the tales always woke at the slightest hint of danger. He was certain none of them would have slept through being half-undressed by a feisty baby Dragoness! Nor did real heroes need to ask their Mommy to fish a spare shirt out of their travel pack for them.
Clearly, one Keirthynal was a work in progress.
No-one was keen to tarry, so by the time Mauve had begun to burn through the mists of night over the vast jungle-scape, the Elves were already on their way, carrying the two litters, with an eager spring in every step. He chortled at how his Dad overshadowed and out-bulked them all. He made up three Elves on his own. What must the Aryssillati Clan have thought of this huge, burly Kalar the Axe pursuing one of their own to wife? Nothing short of crazy, no doubt. Maybe he could cadge a few of the family for juicy tales. Must be a few.
Auroral Storm Diamond looked so dapper! He whistled softly as she strolled through a patch of radiant early sunlight. Wow! She had shed almost all of her hide – and eaten it, of course, washed down with bits of his shirt. The gleam of her new scales was every bit as resplendent as before. If her hide was typical of her kind, then Dragon scales were absolutely extraordinary. Her every movement oozed with feline grace, like liquid diamond in motion. One wanted to think that her close-set scales were gemstone-translucent, but their gleaming depths both deceived and delighted the observer, refracting rainbows in every direction as she moved. And her eyes …
Naturally, Miss Diamond-Scales knew he was admiring her. Jolly rascal, she could sense admiration from a mile off and unfailingly, she basked in it. Not a bone of shame in that body. She received awe and appreciation as her right; not immodestly, he supposed, but with a quiet quality of … well, gravity, he supposed. Good King Daryan had a similar air about him when he addressed the populace. He was not only a king born, but kingly of character. That was what it was. Aye.
He could not help but shrink a little inside when he considered his unworthiness to bring up a Dragon, no matter what his family said. They were biased. Keir knew he must seek his own truth in this – rather than giving in to fear, he must rise above it. Own it. Eradicate it!
Only then would he become a Dragon Guardian.
Chapter 21: The Bridge Beyond
28th of Marus Month
THE ELVES BEGAN TO point ahead at where the Bulwark mountains loomed over the trail. Happy chatter rose to the pristine mauve skies. There, the path snuck beneath a massive natural archway of ochre rock before taking a sharp westward bend. Keir shared their excitement. Just beyond that turn was where they would finally enter the jungle, he remembered. This region was called the Arabaxa Jungle, the central-southern region of the vast Elven jungle territories. Perhaps two-thirds of the total Jungle Elf population called this area home; the rest being scattered far and wide, including the Wyldefey, whose numbers were indefinite but rumoured to be growing rapidly.
So peculiar to be emerging like animals from a winterbound hibernation into a hot, luxuriant jungle.
His foot ached.
Keir eased into a different position on his litter. He had to admit to being heartily sick of sitting or lying about with his foot elevated, but the swelling had not abated as it should. His mother had not run shott on the concerned glances in the weeks since the accident, but what could one do with nerve damage? It either healed or it did not. A range of herbs, essences and jungle remedies were reputed to help, but this area of medicine required specialist medical expertise and research only available at Faifarathi Elvenholme.
Unlike everyone else, Rhyl acted more and more withdrawn. Most out of character.
Still, she noticed his uncomfortable wriggling and came over to check up on him. Ever the healer. Soon, she had him glugging a concoction from a small vial she fished out of her pouch. She checked the state of his holey leg and smeared a little more antiseptic ointment around two of the rods connected to his tibia and fibula.
“Couple of weeks,” she said, “and we should be able to remove the metal frame. Four to six weeks for bones.”
“Another month of sitting on my royal pincushion?”
“Patience, cousin.”
He pretended to swat her. “I’ll patience ye into a Yak soup, I will. How’s yer hand? What’s that swelling?”
Rhyl shot him an unreadable look from beneath her silver eyelashes. Then, she sighed, “Ye may as well ken – well, I’ll share my suspicion with ye. I believe it originates with the Lailan-Sarémia-tay-Vænar.”
Keir’s jaw dropped.
When she did not speak immediately, he gave her an expressive shrug. “Makes sense, but … ”
“Och aye, that’s exactly how I feel,” she said, fiddling with the very long braid of her hair. “She didn’t do anything to me that I ken or remember, but now … now there’s something under there, Keir. A hard nubbin. Maybe –” her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her “– maybe it’s a seed.”
He gasped, “Holy Santazathiar! I have … nae words.”
Faintly, she said, “I hope, oh I hope, cousin, that’s what it is. Because I cannae tell ye – I have no need to tell ye – what the loss of the Lailan-Sarémia-tay-Vænar would mean to our people.” She touched the lump at her wrist pensively. “I believe this may be why the Mother Tree wanted
me to visit her sisters, at least a few of them. It may be that each has something to add before … something can happen. I mean, this isn’t charted territory or anything, much like ye and yer wonderful diamond dragonet.”
“What, like ye plant yerself?”
Her turn to gasp.
Keir snapped his jaw shut with a groan. “Oh … that was bad! Unforgiveable. I’m so sorry, this stupid tongue just – ye ken.”
She reached for his abjectly flapping hand and laced her fingers into his. “Classic Keir foot in mouth, huh? I have imagined the same, so dinnae ye go about looking like a Snow Ogre with a sore stomach. I … am afraid of that outcome, and I hope there’s a very different answer to be found. As ye ken, our people are inclined to Wyldefey behaviour – as in, it is possible for us Elves to return to the more organic aspect of our nature. Is it not said for a truth that we are born of the jungle? So, aye. Would I do this for the sake of our sacred Lailan-Sarémia-tay-Vænar? Maybe … maybe I must sacrifice … all.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Yer that brave?”
Her smile was a tremulous, fragile quirk of her lips. “Nae, now’t so much.”
“May I touch it?”
“As long as there are nae wonky, delirium-induced kisses involved.”
“Ugh, thanks for the reminder.”
They joked together, but all within him wept. Rhyl! Oh, Rhyllaryssill san-byr Aryssillati Tamiorayn! How could such a fate be demanded of her? As he touched the swelling and tried to sense what might lie beneath her skin, still patterned with the silver curls left by Auroral Storm Diamond’s blood, she reminded him that one Sacred Tree stood at the centre of Faifarathi Elvenholme. She would begin her inquiries there.
At length, he raised her hand and kissed the swollen spot. Something of Storm’s magic still tingled against his lips, he fancied. What a peculiar connection. Had it required a droplet of her blood to trigger the germination process?
He whispered, O Santazathiar, bless this seed in flesh planted, and return life to my cousin, I beg thee.
