Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  “Nerr, my word didn’t intentionally allude to this,” Varrult explained as he struggled simply to keep from taking a short plummet. “Nerr, Nerr, I was speaking of flight! Off, off!” he told the dragon, arching himself back to dispense Nerr off him and safely onto the branch.

  Nerr shook his head, regaining his balance, before looking to Varrult asking, “Was I not al-aloff enough?”

  “Sit still, will you,” Varrult told the dragon, compelling Nerr to do exactly that without an argument. Varrult then leaned in, tucking his beak beneath Nerr’s wings to get a look at the little leathery thing. “Hmm, your wings are fine, it seems. Have you yet to fledge?”

  “I-I have fallen once…” Nerr admitted. “The air wasn’t kind that day…”

  Varrult only laughed at the little dragon. “Kind? Hehe, look around, Nerr! I see nothing but kind, calm forest, so you’ll fledge all day long until we exercise your wings and find that landmark.”

  “What about that…d-darkness?” Nerr question as he looked passed the Gyrfalcon.

  “Darkness?” he asked before looking behind himself to spy quite the gathering of storm clouds near the horizon far off to the west, seeming to approach. “Mhmm, seems we can’t fledge day long then. No matter, we’ll be back before the storm. Until then, what do you say Nerr? Up for a bit of constructive fallin’?”

  Chapter twelve

  There was nothing like seeing something new, something for the eyes to feast upon as you become familiar with it. It could be a new face, a new place or a new experience, but whatever the case and wherever it was Benphal would’ve been excited to be guided along to wherever it was. At a time like this he couldn’t be happier. True, he may not have known what was happening or why they traveled, but it didn’t matter for he was just happy to be here, in this very place on the side of a beaten road, feasting on grass and the likes.

  “Oh, here’s a good patch,” Benphal said, throwing his head up as he chewed away. “Think you’d like a taste, friend?” the stallion asked looking to Astregra.

  “No,” she simply answered as she turned herself away.

  To Benphal this was how he’d come to know Astregra. A mare so disinterested, who wore a constant look of dejection when idled long enough to allow certain thoughts to enter into her mind and cloud her judgment. Whatever where those thoughts, Benphal would wonder. He couldn’t tell yet he grew increasingly impatient with her stubbornness as she’d always been rude. Yet as one would think to keep their distance from such a mare, Benphal only pursued conflict in the hopes of exposing why she had always been so stubborn and hard to bear from the very beginning when she was held at his very own stable not many days ago.

  Sighing to himself, Benphal played casual as he attempted to come off rather indifferent to the current situation before pursuing his objective. “Astregra, Astregra. I’ve seen many a mare in my day, yet I’ve never been such a prized stallion to be so intimate with any…” Benphal had intended to continue on in his light banter, but at his final word Astregra had construed his words to the letter before shooting him a gaze that rivaled Venneith’s in terms of potency. This caused Benphal’s tongue to catch as he now struggled simply to string one word to another. “I, err…” he stammered before Astregra interjected.

  “And what is it you now try to imply? That if you could you’d mate with me in an instant?” Her words were bitter, hard, breaking down any charisma the stallion might’ve had, reducing him to nothing but a submissive mumbling heap, unable to explain himself as she persisted. “Hear me now and understand if that barn brain can that I am leagues above you, serving the highest, most esteemed of men while you lug around an outsider biding his time till the lynching occurs. Listen, hear this now and heed later: next time you will hold your tongue before I liberate it from your mouth, and speak of me and to me no more.”

  Just like Astregra, hadn’t changed since he first saw her. Withdrawn, distrusting and imposing, with strong indignation toward any and all things strange to her. What could compel such a mare to act in such a way? Had something traumatic happened, causing her to take to the way she is now? Whatever it was, Benphal had lost his chance at probing for a direct answer, and all because she couldn’t have him finish his sentence. It would’ve continued, ‘yet I don’t need to be to tell you’re in a state of distress and worry. Hear me and know I feel concerned, let me hear of your issue if it at all will help.’ Yet Benphal now couldn’t say this for she might liberate his tongue from his mouth by any means necessary and he honestly believed she’d manage such a cruel, painful act one way or another.

  As Trent watched, he leaned to the knight stating, “I wonder what exchange those two shared.”

  Venneith couldn’t have cared less and what he said explained that. “They’re just horses. It’s not as if they could understand one another. That aside, I must say, I grow restless, eager if you will. When shall my dragon return?”

  “Can’t be sure, my most humble disciple in the falconry arts. Your dragon entered flightless, and since there hasn’t been a study I’ve known of that looked into the time in which a dragon’s born to when it first fledges from whatever den it spawned from, I couldn’t know any more than you. Let me assure you, Varrult will keep a good eye on your little friend.”

  “I’ll take comfort in your word then, Trent, and take to patience,” Venneith declared as he cast his gaze over the forest.

  How far could they have traveled? How deep could they have gone? Perhaps Nerr would learn to take flight, or perhaps he’d once again plummet to the earth in a squawking heap of limbs and wings as he cried out in frustration and fright.

  “No, Nerr!” Varrult harshly criticized the downed dragon. “You flap your wings. Flap! Don’t keep them spread like some brothel whore!” But Nerr wasn’t quite listening as he was too enveloped in spouting hisses and woeful snarls to the tree before Varrult landed before him, compelling the dragon to silence and humble himself. “Nerr, can you not flap your wings?”

  “I-I…I c-ca…” he frustratedly failed to answer as he scratched his neck in agitation before beginning to aggressively rub his face and head into the dirt as he hissed. “I-I can!” he assured though more to himself then Varrult as he crawled across the ground looking as childish as ever.

  “Then do it now! From the ground on up this time, and you won’t stop until I’m satisfied.” Nerr didn’t answer, instead choosing to huff in frustration as he gave his neck one last itch. It seemed this whole flying affair was too advanced for little Nerr. Varrult wasn’t an expert in aviation, nor did he understand just how long it was before a dragon could truly fledge, and although he did speculate it was in a range of a few meger days, he’d need to be proven sorely wrong before admitting it. “Now spread your wings and flap harder than the most furious of winds!”

  Nerr did as asked, although taking his time to do so. He spread his wings, as grand as they were, and began thrusting downward. Yet it proved useless, not to mention uncomfortable as his tips continuously slapped the earth with every beat. “Ow! Ouch!” he cried before curling up helplessly.

  “Nerr, you can’t stay grounded,” Varrult frustratedly muttered. “You must leap straight up first! Now do it again!” Again Nerr scratched his neck, unfurled his wings and hopped straight up this time, beating against the wind as hard and fast he could. A lot of dirt was thrust into the air indeed, yet Nerr didn’t achieve much lift before falling back on his tail and tumbling backwards. “No, don’t get frustrated!” Varrult assured the dragon before he could hiss or spit in anger. “You’re nearly there, I just know it! Again, friend! Once more!”

  “I’m t-tired, Varrult…” Nerr complained. “I-I want my protector!”

  “And what will your protector want with you if you cannot pay him tribute?” Varrult asked, bluntly garnering Nerr’s gaze to be cast solely on him. “Right now you’re the fastest and slickest, as small as you are and ever will be. In the coming days you’ll grow to be slow, but big and strong. You’ll need wings to
carry you about lest you think those legs ought to carry you faster than a rabbit can pounce, which I doubt will come to pass.” Although little Nerr was in denial, it was plain to see that as young as he was the dragon knew it was true. Perhaps it was because he was being told by an elder, or perhaps it was some deeper knowledge or instinct that compelled him to believe it to so. “Now set yourself again and let me see you fledge. Quickly now, before some predator finds us with all the noise we’ve been making.”

  Nerr might not have been the most eager to fail, but the thought of yet another predator was enough to stir him onwards. So far Varrult was the only creature Nerr couldn’t best, but to think there was yet another that even Varrult couldn’t best was beyond Nerr. Leveling himself off, Nerr crouched, ready to pounce upwards before beginning to flap. He imagined it within his head and to him flight seemed rather hard to reach yet possible. Regardless, he gave it his best effort as he leapt before he began to flap with an urgency to find lift. Yet again dirt and dust was flug into the air and just when Nerr though he had bested the earth, his tail fell back, pulling his lower half down, causing him to plummet into a bush — and beyond, for the bush lay just before a rather steep, unseen fall into the forest, compelling Nerr to cry out as he rolled down and away.

  “Nerr?!” Varrult called as he peered down the bank not more than three men stacked high.

  “I live, Varrult!” Nerr cried rather triumphantly. “I nearly caught the wind, Varrult!”

  Gliding downwards before landing before the little dragon, Varrult assured, “That you did, Nerr, but you know what else?” Nerr only answered with a curious sideways look and a slight, ‘Hm.’ Gesturing behind the dragon with a nod of his beak Varrult answered, “We found our landmark. You’re a natural, Nerr!”

  “Really, Varrult?” Nerr asked excitedly.

  “No, actually,” he simply answered as he strode past the dragon. “By your luck we discovered it but your luck may find worse things.” Nerr could only lower his head in pensive thought, confused at how Varrult could play with his emotions in such a way. “You ever wondered what a kiteshield looks like?” Varrult then asked rather abruptly. “I mean, you’re a curious lil’ thing, of course you have,” he answered before Nerr could make his decision. “I’ve seen them worn by the warriors and infantry of men. They’d often come in many different forms but the truest form to the very name is the one with four points and a peak at the top like this. Stand here, will you?”

  Nerr did so, taking Varrult’s place before the first stone pillar that rose from the ground, rather lopsided with uneven edges and two peaks at the top. “Now Nerr, you see this first stone looks rather interesting, different if I may say, but nowhere near distinct from its surroundings. Now cast your gaze to the one beyond it.”

  Nerr did as he was told as he sat in place, letting his gaze slip past the first pillar to the second, which stood to the left of the first yet further beyond. This one had one distinctive peak as the rest of the stone seemed to turn rough after surpassing a certain point, leaving the smooth carving and sharp edges for uncoordinated stone.

  To Nerr this was nearly nothing special, for it seemed rather unspecial indeed. That was until his gaze shifted once more. It was an awfully strange shift and almost polarizing to the little creature, but as he gazed he noticed how the rough edges disappeared behind the foremost pillar, leaving the smooth edges to combine, take shape and reveal their true image.

  “I-I see it!” Nerr excitedly exclaimed with a wave of his tail. “I-I don’t know what it is though…but I-I see!”

  “As any creature with eyes should,” Varrult affirmed as he stepped before the dragon. “But now we must leave and tell our masters of what we have found, yeah?” Yet even as he spoke Nerr had lifted his snout skyward to begin sniffing as he pushed past the gyrfalcon, continuing onwards and passing the rock formation. “Nerr, what are you doing?”

  “Food!” Nerr answered, continuously sniffing only to spontaneously exhale once enough air had gathered within his lungs only to begin again in his sniffing frenzy. “So near, smells…of meat!”

  “You sniffing out a camp?” Varrult asked as he followed closely. He for one doubted the landmark would’ve been so near to the camp, but then again they could have migrated a mile or so. Regardless, it was worth investigating if Varrult could gather more information on their targets. “Alright then, keep to it, but watch each of your steps, buck. I wouldn’t want you to take another unforeseen plummet.”

  Nerr didn’t need to be asked as he tracked down the aroma that smelled eerily like that kind lady’s cooking. Was she around again, wondered Nerr. Could she have ventured out and taken to the forest for the day? Whatever it was, the smell led him north past a small thicket of brush and to an overlook.

  “Down there!” Nerr shouted as Varrult perched himself atop a tree to gaze down at their little discovery.

  “By Lythre, I take back what I’ve said, Nerr,” Varrult whispered in awe at what he gazed upon. “You really are a natural at this.”

  Down below, about a twelve-man fall, was nothing but an open space surrounded by forrest and steep falls like to the one they stood above. Within was mostly barren, with plenty of dirt patches, dead stumps and fallen logs, with a rather slow but clean river. Within this hidden area was a refuge in which men wandered about, sat about and sang some tunes with a lit fire and tents erected roundabout.

  As Varrult looked on he began counting but quickly gave up after fifteen as there were far too many moving around too keep track of one after another. But they weren’t men, Varrult could tell that much. These people, they were just boys. Some were shirtless, waving sharpened sticks and swords about as a few elder boys brought in game, mostly deer, to be skinned and cooked.

  “Nerr, stay where you are, buck.” Varrult whispered as the dragon creeped to the end of a low branch hanging off the overlook. “I can’t have you take another dive. You understand to stay, yes?”

  Nerr only nodded saying, “T-these men are strangers.”

  “Good, we have our location, let’s be off,” he softly spoke to the dragon from the tree above, so as to not garner much attention from the ground.

  However, as Nerr sat perched upon the branch, gazing down curiously at the sight below, did a feeling creep through his wings and up his spine. It was unpleasant to say the least and Nerr lacked the knowledge to properly comprehend such a feeling’s purpose or meaning. However, when Nerr sniffed and listened did he sense a presence unlike any he had come to know. The dragon couldn’t resist and steadily he rotated his head before laying his eye upon a creature unlike anything he had seen before.

  “Move, Nerr!” Varrult shouted as he tackled the dragon off the branch before Nerr had the chance to comply to his demand.

  Nerr hardly had time to see the beast that Varrult now battled, but it was a beast of chitin and many, many legs. It had pincers and mandibles quite large and imposing, and it hissed at Varrult as the falcon tripped over the branch trying to evade the beast, only for his wing to briefly graze its razor-sharp mandibles as he retreated down the tree to Nerr.

  “Varrult, why d-did you do t-that!” Nerr asked in distress, having been jarred by the sudden assault. His tail flicked in agitation, his breath depend and his sight sharpened as he gazed once more upon the strange beast above, only to realise the intent of Varrult’s deed. “Y-you saved me?”

  “Yes, Nerr,” Varrult said as he staved off the urge to give in to the burning sensation in his wing and cry out. “You’ve done no wrong, but we can’t stay here. Come on, Nerr, We Must Find My Master!”

  It was then Nerr heard the chilling hiss of the creature before looking up to see it scurry down the tree with its many legs clinging fast to the trunk as it hurried along in pursuit of either the dragon or gyrfalcon.

  “Nerr!” Varrult called again as he leapt into the air. “Come on, Nerr!”

  Nerr didn’t intend to be left behind as he turned on his tail and bolted into the forest and through the
dense foliage. Taking to his senses, the dragon began to recall the location in which his protector had last been. Scaling the trunk of a tree, Nerr took to the branches after Varrult, flying low over the canopy of the forest.

  “D-don’t leave me, Varrult!” he cried as he leapt from branch to branch with urgency to escape. Occasionally he’d glance behind and spy nothing, but panic was slow to let loose its grip on the dragon which in turn pushed little Nerr onward through the forest after the gyrfalcon. “Please, Varrult,” he called again.

  “I wouldn’t, Nerr,” Varrult called back as he made his best effort to fly low and slow for little Nerr as he followed along, still not yet able to use his wings, but at a time like this attempting such a thing would be foolish given his previous attempts. “Just keep bounding, just…ah…” the stinging sensation was growing. It was slow and gradual but it made its presence known more and more with every passing moment.

  Could it have been poison, Varrult wondered? It most definitely could have been but the pain was only local to the area in which he was bitten. He didn’t feel a loss of strength, breath or vigor, yet his wing was beginning to stall every so often in its action. It was hardly noticeable at first but as time passed Varrult could most definitely feel his wing beginning to resist, to stiffen in its movements. Could this poison be paralysis-based?

  It wouldn’t be healthy or helpful to think about it. All Varrult should focus on was the safety and security of Nerr as he watched over him from above, yet Varrult could begin to feel the poison taking great effect on his wing. Slowly he began to dip to the right, only to exert himself in correcting his flight path before once again it’d begin to take effect. No, he couldn’t last, but by now he and Nerr had traveled far, and just a bit further he’d be back in the comfort and care of his master, and Nerr his protected.

  It was such a wish, in that very moment his only wish, but as much as Varrult wanted to see that wish be granted, he couldn’t stay airborne, and soon he had fallen through the canopy of the forest. The crash wasn’t kind but it could’ve been much more harsh as he fell between leaves, twigs and branches before coming to rest on a low-hanging branch, hardly able to balance as he lay across its surface with his right wing half extended yet unmoving and numbed of all pain.