Wavebreaker_Book II of the Stone War Chronicles_Part 1_Trickle

by A. J. Norfield

  “It’s fine, really. I’m yours and you’re mine. I don’t doubt that for a second, but you've got a package deal. Every day, I am grateful to feel your warmth—even if it is already scorching hot. But family’s important, too. And you’re part of that family now. Which means we’ll look out for each other, even if we don’t always see eye to eye.”

  Dalkeira’s eyes darted briefly to Decan, who likewise pondered the words just spoken. The dragon adjusted her wings for a moment.

  “It is not like I wanted to fight with him. I know you would not like that,” said Dalkeira.

  “I know, and I am grateful for that,” replied Trista privately.

  Trista looked at them both and decided not to stay on the topic any longer. She looked up at the sun, holding her hand above her eyes.

  “I guess we’ll have to decide if we’re going to go through with this. That man said those other people were all headed west, but we’ve seen no one yet. Which means there must be something farther west for them, right?”

  “I do not care about other people,” said Dalkeira in Trista’s head. “I just want to go west. Last night I had a dream. It was like someone was singing to me at the point where the sun touched the ground. Even now that I am awake I know it is still there, but it is like the sound is just out range of my hearing. I cannot hear it, but I can. It is hard to explain.”

  “Okay, you’re right. And I’m with you, Triss. Whatever you decide,” said Decan, dipping his head underwater one more time.

  Trista climbed on the rock formation that sheltered the pool of water. She looked to the west. The low yellow hills looked hard and dry, with even less vegetation than those they had already crossed. Her heart beat loudly as she tried to decide if they should take the chance. She felt responsible for Dalkeira and her brother, but there were so many unknowns here she may as well have been flying blind.

  Flying!

  “Dalkeira, are you feeling better now that you’ve had a drink?”

  The dragon had never said anything, but Trista noticed that she had trouble staying in the air after days without food or water. She figured that it still took a great deal of energy for the young dragon to fly, especially while she was still growing.

  “I am fine.”

  Trista gave a small nod.

  “Would you mind taking to the air and seeing if you can spot anything to the west?”

  “Why not?” said Dalkeira as she took off.

  As Dalkeira beat her wings to gain altitude. Trista and Decan sat down near a few boulders, staying hidden from anyone at ground level. While the dragon had been practicing her flying often, it was mostly horizontal. She was already higher than she had ever been, and she felt her wings start to cramp. The days had been tiresome and although she was refreshed by her drink earlier, it had only filled her stomach with water where food was required.

  “Are you okay?” asked Trista.

  “I am fine.”

  “You’re quite high up already. Can you see anything yet?”

  “I can see plenty, but there are a few hills to the west that block my view still,” said Dalkeira.

  “Why don’t you find a flow of hot air?”

  “What do you mean? The air is hot everywhere here.”

  “No, I mean an upward flow. Back on the island I often looked at the seagulls soaring on the wind without beating their wings once. They used the winds hitting the cliffs to gain altitude. But even in the middle of the island they would circle and get higher and higher. Father explained that it was the warm air rising upward that carried them higher. Like a leaf that suddenly blows up into the sky above a campfire,” explained Trista.

  That seemed simple enough. Dalkeira leveled off her wings and locked them in place with her muscles. She felt the flow of air pass underneath, but noticed she was slowly descending. She banked left, turning half a circle toward the west, and felt the different air pressures against her wings and skin.

  She breathed in deeply, not only filling her normal lungs but also forcefully pushing air into her back lungs as well. During her time in the water, she had learned that she could take extra deep gulps of air. The additional oxygen helped her to stay underwater for long periods of time. She had not thought much of it, but figured now that it might help her more easily stay in the air, too. But the additional lungs were close to her main wing muscles, which constantly moved while in the air. This was not a problem in the water, as Dalkeira kept her wings tightly folded. But now, every time she used her muscles to beat her wings, she felt puffs of air being exhaled involuntarily.

  She was contemplating this when she suddenly felt an upward stream of air touch her left wing. Before she could react, she had passed it already.

  “I think I have something,” she said to Trista.

  She steered right, circling back toward the spot where she had felt the rising air. She surveyed the landscape directly below her, and was just getting her bearings when she felt herself enter the upward stream of air again. She quickly rose several dozens of feet before she exited the stream again. Once more she circled, trying to get an estimate of the size of the updraft. As she entered the lift again, she adjusted her trajectory to stay in the rising airflow. It was a bit of a tight turn, but she was now quickly gaining altitude without beating her wings.

  “You’re climbing fast! Be careful!” said Trista.

  Dalkeira looked down to see the land below her grow smaller by the heartbeat. The view was amazing; she approached nearly half a thousand feet already.

  She felt the strain on her wings from the constant tight turns and let her eyes glide along the ground to see if she could spot another place where a lift might occur. She spotted a similar, larger layout of flat surface and rocky surroundings to her right. She exited the lift and veered off toward it. Surely enough, she felt another air flow push her wings up as soon as she arrived above the clearing. She circled to determine the diameter of the stream and found it indeed larger than the other. The downside was that her rate of ascent slowed because of it.

  She tried to reach out to Trista, but barely sensed her presence. Startled, she quickly looked down, where she easily spotted Trista and her brother watching her with hands held above their eyes. Dalkeira let out a nervous rumble. She did not understand why she had panicked there for a moment. It was not like she was dependent on them for her survival. If anything, she was helping them survive. Still, her mind felt awfully quiet without Trista’s thoughts seeping in from outside. It felt…unpleasant.

  An abrupt gush of air forced Dalkeira to correct her course and abandon her thoughts. She was beginning to recognize a few patterns of airflows here, but it was more difficult than it had been before. During their time at sea the sparkles from the water had been abundant in the air as well, giving her guidance on how the wind was flowing. Dalkeira had never questioned the way she saw water. It differed from how she saw the rest of the world, but it had always been as normal as the grains of sand on a beach. However, the air here was so dry, she barely saw any water sparkles at all. Luckily, her instinct guided her, and she swiftly learned to recognize probable spots with lift or dangerous turbulence.

  She peered down—she was well over a thousand feet now. It was time to do what she came up here to do. She turned and looked across the miles and miles of land between them and the coast. Beyond lay the shimmering ocean, which they had crossed. The land was brown, red and yellow, depending on the type of sand, along with the occasional patch of green where water was present, but what dominated the view were none of these colors. Columns of black smoke rose from the ground, as if they were pillars meant to keep the sky up. Most were fairly small, but as Dalkeira turned south she saw the walls of a large city, far off in the distance. The hot air made the image hazy, but from what Trista had told her about the southern cities, she was certain it was a city—a city with damaged walls and numerous fires that sent black smoke into the air.

  Farther out, she noticed at least twenty ships in front of the large
city, which lay directly on the coast. There were even a few ships circling the air above the city, which from a distance had the shape of an anthill. She also spotted at least three different groups of horsemen traversing the landscape, but none were on their way directly toward them.

  Dalkeira turned her gaze toward the west. Her longing flared up as she peered into the distance. Several low, rocky hills lay directly ahead, but behind them was something Dalkeira could not have imagined herself. The ground looked like it had been scraped of any unevenness. It was flat and almost pure white for as far as she could see. The ground was difficult to look at because of the reflecting sun, but there was something that caught Dalkeira’s eye; a dark spot that was blurry but relatively close to their current location.

  As she turned another circle, she twisted her neck to keep her eyes focused on the place where she thought she had seen it. She reentered the lift to get above the sun’s reflection. There!

  The dragon trumpeted in excitement before she could stop herself. She quickly looked around to see if any of the horsemen had heard her.

  Better not attract any unwanted attention.

  She stooped into a full dive while getting her bearings back toward the two siblings. As the distance between them decreased, she felt Trista flow back into her mind again.

  “…we…barely see…anymore!”

  The dragon spread her wings out fully to slow her descent. She circled the rock formation once, before turning in sharply to land on the large boulder where Trista and Decan were waiting.

  “You made me nervous there for a moment. We completely lost sight of you a few times with the sun in our eyes. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to find your way back to us,” said Trista, her voice trembling.

  “Never mind that. I found what we were looking for. I saw people, way off to the west.”

  “People? Not soldiers?” said Trista.

  “No, regular people. I think. It was a wagon, of that I am sure. The soldiers were more to the east. The wagon was quite a distance off, but the terrain is very flat, and very white. I have no idea why that dying man spoke of rolling hills. I certainly saw none of those, but if we hurry we should be able to catch up with it in a day, or two if they are going very fast.”

  “How many?”

  “I do not know; the distance made it difficult to see any humans. Even my eyesight has its limits. I guess we will see when we catch up to them. Come on. Let us go! We are wasting time, are we not?”

  Trista had a feeling that it was not about the people at all for Dalkeira. The dragon had been drawn toward the west ever since she hatched from the egg. It felt like their entire journey consisted of one long shot after another. But the water goddess had guided them well up till now, especially on the ocean waters. She had steered and provided; kept them safe. At night, when Trista kept watch, she often wondered what path the goddess had in mind for them. It made her uncomfortable to leave the waters—which provided so much life—behind and head out to follow the burning sun. If it was a good thing to follow the sun god, why did the water goddess not go with him herself?

  “Maybe I was wrong; maybe we should go back to the boat and go south. Get around the southern tip and continue west by boat…”

  “We will never make it. The coast is crawling with ships, and those flying boats are moving down south,” said Dalkeira.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of what?” asked Decan, barely able to follow the conversation from Trista’s questions.

  “Sorry, I meant Dalkeira. She said the coast was infested with the black ships. But she saw a wagon to the west, which could mean people.”

  “And water. A wagon could be carrying much more water. Our water bags only have enough for a couple of days,” said Decan.

  “It just doesn’t feel right,” said Trista with a sigh. “But we can’t stay here, and we can’t go back.”

  “Then let us stop wasting time and go,” said Dalkeira, impatient.

  “It seems we must,” said Trista.

  Both siblings slid down the rocks and fetched their equipment. They still had some daylight left. Decan was lucky; his skin was used to the long days of sun, and was merely turning a very deep brown. But the heat was something else. The nights here were strangely cold in comparison to the warm days. Had they not been in danger of running into soldier patrols all the time, Trista would have preferred to just travel at night and stay out of the sun during the day. Unfortunately, they needed to keep moving as much as possible, which meant only stopping to sleep or eat before continuing west both day and night.

  It was late evening before Trista and her brother could see the white plains Dalkeira had spotted from the sky. They decided to use the shelter of the last hills to get some sleep before heading off onto the plains, which offered no protection from the elements for as far as the eye could see.

  It was one of the shortest nights Trista had since they left the island. If they could get an early start, they could use the colder temperature of the night and morning to cover as much distance as possible. And so they did. But by the time the sun reached its zenith, Trista felt like she was walking in a frying pan.

  “It is not much further now,” said Dalkeira as she returned from a quick lookout flight.

  The dragon had searched for a water source, but it was futile; there was not a hole or well in sight, and Trista could tell flying took a lot of effort in this heat. Dalkeira returned to Trista and Decan, who had tied some of their clothes around their heads to provide protection from the sun. Her claws scratched the hard, white ground as she landed before she hopped between the two humans, trying to stay in their shadow as much as possible.

  “It seems they have stopped for a break.”

  Trista looked at her brother, who took a sip of water.

  “Dalkeira says the wagon has stopped up ahead, but try to take small sips. We don’t know how long we’ll have to make it last.”

  Decan gave a small nod as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He was panting with every step he took, and all too often grabbing for his water to drink. It was understandable, thought Trista. His body was frailer than hers, in constant need of food and water to keep up with the growth rate of a thirteen-year-old boy. In some ways, he was very much like Dalkeira; however, it seemed a dragon’s eating pattern allowed for more flexibility. Dalkeira could stuff herself and then not eat or drink for multiple days—though of course, she would never pass up an opportunity to feed.

  Trista looked at the cracked earth beneath her constantly moving feet. The ground crackled under her toes. It did not look like any sand she knew. Besides, it felt much too hard to be actual sand.

  “It smells like the sea,” said Dalkeira.

  The dragon lowered her head and flicked her tongue across the ground.

  “Tastes like it, too.”

  Trista picked up a small piece of white rock she accidentally kicked loose. With a slight hesitation, she put it to her tongue.

  “It’s salt. All of this is salt! No wonder it looked so familiar!”

  She looked around. The hills were far behind them already. They were surrounded by nothing but flat, rock-hard salt. Soon they would have nothing but the path of the sun god across the sky to guide their way.

  “This must have been a sea many, many years ago,” said Trista.

  “But how can all the water be gone?” asked Decan.

  “I don’t know. It must have been the sun, right? It has the power to make water disappear, like at home when we'd salt our fish.”

  She immediately regretted mentioning home. She saw the change on Decan’s face right away. The remark had both siblings thinking about their parents as they silently continued their journey. In the meantime, with the sun moving in front of them, it became increasingly difficult to look toward the west. The glare in combination with the shimmering hot air was beginning to play tricks on their eyes. Multiple times Trista thought she saw people coming their way, and once she could have sworn she saw a
house. But every time, as they walked further along, there had been nothing.

  “Did you see that?” said Dalkeira.

  “See what?”

  The dragon had stopped for a moment to stretch out her wings.

  “I thought I saw something sparkle.”

  “That’s just the sun. Let’s keep going,” said Trista.

  “No, behind us. That cannot be the sun. I thought I saw it earlier as well when I was flying, but it was on the hilltop then.”

  “Well, I don’t see anything. What I can see is another figment of my imagination up ahead.”

  “You mean that large dark shape?” said Decan.

  “Wait, you can see that too?” said Trista, surprised.

  Dalkeira looked in the direction Trista was pointing.

  “It must be the wagon. Yes, I think it is!”

  All three picked up the pace as the wavering image took a more solid form. The promise of some shade and a chance to rest their legs made them forget the day’s fatigue for a moment. But as they got closer, Trista noticed something was not right.

  It was bigger than she expected, but the wagon tilted strangely to one side. She shouted a greeting, but got no answer in return. It did not seem like the wagon was moving, nor was there any sign of life around it.

  “Something’s wrong. They can’t still be resting, can they?” said Trista out loud.

  When they finally reached the wagon, it became clear they would not find any help here.

  “No,” whispered Trista. Dalkeira just stared at the wagon.

  Decan let himself slide to the ground in the shade. He took a big gulp of his water and stared silently at the horizon where white and blue met.

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” said Decan. “We have no idea what we’re doing.”

  “Stop. We’ll figure something out,” said Trista, trying to keep a sparkle of hope.

  “But—but we walked all this way. I don’t think I can make it back again,” said Decan.

  Trista knew how he felt. Like hers, his head was no doubt spinning and pounding at the same time, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. The shade was welcome and it looked like the wind was picking up a little—for which they were grateful—but even the escape from direct sunlight could not make up for the boy’s disappointment.