Even so, dragglings looked forward to flying more than any other privilege, for few could imagine a sensation more wonderful than the sky under-wing.
If you wish to grow into a Fisher, Young Thaydra, you will think first before lifting your wings. That was what Darkmoon had said—a threat to take away her flying privileges. He could if he wanted. She had evidence of it in her own family. Still, in all the enslavement’s history, the Sperk had only once rendered an Agring flightless. And the reasons were extreme. Could an eleven-year-old opening her wings constitute flight loss?
“So what are we going to say to Mum?” Blaze continued.
“I dunno,” said Nyra, deflated of motivation.
Blaze flicked his tail brightly. “Maybe it won’t be bad. Mum knows Darkmoon is crazy. Even if he’s in charge. And bigger. And awful.” He gulped. “Still, you didn’t try to do anything wrong. It’s not like you were breathing fire.”
“I wasn’t breathing fire that one time,” Nyra said testily. “I was just showing Jesoam how I think you do it.”
“But that was deliberate. This wasn’t.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Blaze,” she said dully, hanging her head.
“Al-right,” he said in an uneasy sing-song.
The dragglings proceeded wordlessly for the next few steps until Blaze halted in his tracks. Nyra looked up. An evening guard was standing above their den. With hunched stature, the beast patrolled about the small holes, swishing her tail, bored. As the Fishing Agrings fell from the sky to deliver meals, the Sperk watched, making sure they all went directly to the fish pile then back to the sea or to their homes. They always did.
“Wait a second!” Blaze hissed when Nyra walked on. Nyra huffed and slumped her shoulders, stopping. Head rolling to the sky, she watched a gull warble and traced its movements on the pink clouds until it arced over the ocean. She wished she could be up there with it, soaring away across the sea, away from guards and grownups. Age twelve couldn’t come soon enough.
When she looked forward, the Sperk was staring in their direction. Nyra gripped the ground. I’m not afraid. And she was not. Sperks were far too commonplace to be really scary, Darkmoon naturally aside. Mother did not fear Sperks either. But when Nyra was not beside her friends or reassured by sunlight, the Sperk Dragons became a little more severe. Moonlight illuminated their scales while their long tails assumed the form of vines ready to twist into a bind. They looked like the god Roendon’s hatchlings, with rippling forelimbs that inherited the supernatural.
As quickly as the Sperk spotted them, she looked away and moved southward. Without announcement, Blaze carried on, and it was Nyra’s turn to keep up.
They reached their burrow, that little parting of grasses just wide enough to fit a stout adult, recognizable from the other burrows by two river-stone towers constructed by the dragglings. On many nights the burrow seemed far away, the towers nearly invisible. But whenever Nyra was in trouble, or had something negative to report, the den met them quickly, just as it never came up fast enough when Blaze was in the wrong.
Nyra began to whisper out loud. She knew it, but could not stop herself. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” she moaned. She felt her brother’s eyes upon her. He said nothing and disappeared down the hole, leaving her no choice but to follow in his wake.
She became conscious of her movements. How quickly should she go in? Where should her focus be? All seemed so crucial in dealing with bad news. As always, there was not enough time to mull it over.
Like a personal sunrise, her eyes acclimated to the darkness. The throbbing in her stomach lifted when Mother took shape against the farthest wall. Asleep.
For a second, and only a second, the draggling forgot to hate the world, and how the sleeping creature ahead would send the future crashing down. Nyra loved when her mother slept. Even when Nyra was well-behaved, there was something in the rise and fall of Mother’s chest that put the draggling at ease. They were the only instances where Nyra took the time to look at her. During the day, the two interacted, but Nyra had never really studied her mother until recently. Over the years, the draggling had caught Mum staring, and when Nyra inquired, the reply frequently was, “I’m just looking at you.” It was a gesture of love, and like most younglings, Nyra responded with a haughty snort. What a silly thing! Had Nyra been doing something interesting, like tag or stone stacking, then surely Mother should have watched. Otherwise, Nyra saw no point.
But in Mother’s slumber, Nyra did not need to hide. She could gaze upon the scarlet dragon without fear of scrutiny, without fear of uninvited affection. The two looked very similar, according to the herd. Nyra had inherited those long and slender ears, and both their bodies were not too big or too small (for their ages, of course). And their eyes were the same yellow with sparks of green. Mum insisted that her own eyes were closer together, making little Nyra the more attractive one. Nyra didn’t quite understand. Thaydra was in no way vain, and so Nyra thought the pronouncement out of character. It was likely one of those things adults said to instill confidence in their children, or otherwise shy away from their own hidden insecurity. Most of it was too complex for Nyra’s liking, and she changed the subject whenever possible.
“She’s asleep,” Blaze whispered.
“Oh, golly golly, Blaze, how would I know a thing without you?”
“I’m just saying,” he retaliated, “that you can think about what you’re going to say. Because...”
“You two are being too loud.” A muffled voice broke their chatter. Thaydra’s eyes opened. The mother dragon yawned, showing off two rows of small teeth leading to a pair of ivory fangs.
“Is it dark already?” she said. “I’m famished.” Sniffing the air, she faced Blaze and Nyra, hungry, well-rested, and as always, asymmetrical. To the dragglings, she was their normal mother. It was all the other parents who were strange. For as much as having a father was abnormal to Nyra, it was just as atypical to have a mother with both wings. Thaydra had only one. Where a left wing was once attached, or so Thaydra insisted, was a jagged, pale scar. Beginning in a cross work of marred tissue at the shoulder, it tapered down towards the rump, tattered as decaying foliage. But Blaze and Nyra skimmed over it like a common freckle.
“Now,” Thaydra said brightly, “what did you get up to today?” She fiddled with the grass bedding.
Nyra had not rehearsed. “Umm…”
Her brother was quick to butt in, a discomfited angle shaping his mouth. “Well, we have good news and bad news.”
Thaydra’s head snapped up. The ‘good news bad news’ ploy was grossly outdated, but Blaze had yet to develop a new tactic when it came to easing a blow.
“The good news is…” he began.
“Blazing Fire, do not play nonsense with me,” Thaydra growled.
Relentlessly as river water, Blaze spilled. “We were looking out at the Green Spot from the warren just after first sunset, but then Nyra wanted to get closer. We got to the cliff edge, and then Nyra said she needed to see the first escape attempt tunnel, even though we know it’s filled in. She came too close to the edge and spread her wings.”
Mother’s jaw clenched. “Nyra!” she whistled through her fangs.
Nyra blanched. “I hardly remember—”
“That is why we don’t go close to the edge ever.” Thaydra opened her mouth wide on ‘ever,’ her delivery slow and stressed. “You cannot put yourself in a situation where you might spread your wings.”
“But….”
Thaydra tossed her head up and snarled so violently that Nyra shut up. “And you know, that’s not the worst part. It’s that I’ve told you over and over not to get close to the cliffs. This is a coastline. We have those unexpected high winds. You could get pushed off like leaves!”
Nyra muttered under her breath.
“Pardon?” said Thaydra in a low, hard tone.
“How would you know?” Nyra said almost inaudibly.
“Know what?”
/> “If we have high winds? The rest of the world might have worse wind. And you’ve never been to the rest of the world. You’ve never been anywhere.”
Thaydra bent down, eye to eye with her pouting daughter. “Nyra, my draggling of Shadowed Fire, you will do as I say. Otherwise you are going to have guards after you again, and that will be nothing next to what you’ll face with me.”
Nyra responded with an equally slow voice, trying to match her mother’s aggressively patient tenor. “The guards did not catch us this time.” A loophole.
“But Darkmoon did,” murmured Blaze, tying the loophole to an irreversible knot.
The mother Agring took a step backward and threw her nose to the ceiling.
“Oh, mercy to us all,” Thaydra sighed. A sick-tasting saliva scurried down Nyra’s tongue like a mouse in a desert.
“What do I need to do? I need you to tell me.” Nyra couldn’t discern if Mum addressed Nyra alone. Both she and Blaze were inescapably dead. But even though their punishments were usually the same, blame had a way of targeting Nyra. When Blaze and Nyra argued, Mother often refused both sides of the story, criticizing them for not getting along. But on the occasion penalties were uneven, Nyra received the heavier weight. Blaze might be scolded for going with her foolish ideas, but in the long run, they were not his. Looking after Nyra was his job, Blaze claimed, as was telling her when to turn away from trouble, even if she seldom listened.
Thaydra’s forehead creased into worried wrinkles. “What do we need to do to fix this?” Nyra knew the voice, the ‘dangerously quiet’ voice. In many respects, it was much worse than shouting.
“I’m obviously not teaching you properly,” said the mother dragon. “You have an obligation to be good, whether it is important to you now or not. Nyra, you are to live up to your name. I named you for a place that our herd has thrived in for generations, and so it must be by your pride to honor our continent. And Blazing Fire, you’re born from the bravest Agrings I’ve ever known, and you are to live up to their memory with assertion.”
If Mother’s anger had not yet been clear, reciting their origins solidified it.
“So you two tell me what we should do,” continued Thaydra. “Both of you. What will make you take yourselves seriously?”
“Mmm,” Blaze tried to be helpful, as always, though no amount of mollifying would change their fate. “We could replace the bedding tomorrow? I noticed last night that it’s getting crackly.”
“Yes, you may do that,” said Thaydra solemnly. “Nyra, any suggestions?”
Nyra glared up at her mother, knowing she needed to be thoughtful and even-tempered. But she couldn’t wipe away her scowl.
“No, then,” said Thaydra. “Alright. Lucky for you, I’ve an idea. For the next twenty sunsets you two can join me at the Dam. You will not play in the evenings. You will not see your cousins. You will be in my sight at all times. Understood?”
“Yes,” said Blaze in a small voice.
“Nyra?”
Twenty sunsets? Ten days? Ten days of grunt work under Mother’s peeved, perfectionist watch? No, there was no chance.
Before Nyra could answer, a scuffling came from outside. Dinner was here.
“Aisel? Fidee? That you?” breathed Thaydra, letting her anger split into a friendly voice. Standing up straight she beamed from ear to ear.
“Yes, Thaydra,” came a nervous reply. “Is this a bad time?”
“Not at all,” Thaydra chuckled forcefully, leaping towards the entrance. The dragglings followed, watching their mother emerge into the coming nighttime.
Waiting outside were the twins, Aisel and Fidee, nearly identical but for the gray and red coloration distinguishing their sexes. At fourteen and almost fully grown, the two seemed leagues away from Nyra. There was once a time when they’d played together. Yet despite the bliss of free frivolity, time raged forward, and the day at last arrived when the twins became bound to flying lessons. Slowly the giddy hops of Aisel turned to diffident crouches, the cheers of Fidee to anguished squeaks.
Still they were kind. In addition to regular fishing duties, the twins volunteered their services to Thaydra. The mother dragon had her own fishing responsibilities, catching freshwater trout at the Reservoir. Nevertheless, an Agring was entitled to sea fish, and had Thaydra not been maimed, she would have been catching meals from the ocean like the rest. So her faithful herd-mates, like Aisel and Fidee, offered one extra trip to the water; a small token to compensate for Thaydra’s horrific loss.
“S-some large good …” Aisel, the male, sputtered. “Sorry,” he said, looking south. Aisel’s attention came in and out as the Sperk guard rounded his home burrow.
He cleared his throat again. “We have some good yellow salmon tonight. Especially large.” He indicated two enormous and very plump fish at his sister’s feet.
“I’ll say!” said Thaydra. Nyra peered around her mother’s tail. Good Light! They were huge. Not that Nyra ever went hungry. She always had enough to eat. But Blaze had more theories than Nyra cared to know, and one surmised that the largest belly saw the small ones filled first, often at its own expense. Nyra accused him of being dramatic. But maybe Mother was the dramatic one, dramatic in the art of good acting.
The male visitor shifted uncomfortably. Thaydra scrutinized him, and her eyes danced.
“Oh Aisel, Aisel, don’t let her get you down,” Thaydra said, looking behind the burrow at the Sperk. “It seems you need this Gathering’s motivation more than anyone!”
The young doe, Fidee, gasped. “Shush!” she piped. “You’ll be heard.”
“Look at me, Fidee,” soothed Thaydra. “If we don’t speak fearlessly, we won’t be heard. And if we can’t be heard, then we can’t help each other change. Please don’t feel mortified whenever you think you’ve upset someone. Whether it be me or a Sperk.”
“We do try, Thaydra,” said Aisel. Nyra wondered if he was sincere or humoring. It was a precarious place for open discussion, though Mother was too brazen to notice. Aisel likely agreed to satisfy Thaydra, fearing the debate would persist until an agreement was reached.
“Tonight, then?” Fidee said carefully.
“Yes of course. Thank you.” Thaydra smiled. “Now go on, you’ll want to catch your own dinner before curfew.”
“Enjoy,” the two voices said in unison. They took off.
Thaydra regarded the prowling Sperk, forgetting her children’s tension. Then Blaze sniffed, and Thaydra stiffened. She grabbed the smaller fish in her mouth, waving a claw in the dragglings’ direction. They ran out, seized the second salmon, and dragged it in.
Once inside, the mother dragon dropped her dinner and continued as if never interrupted.
“You’ll lose privileges if you keep this behavior up.” Her brows loosened a little with a trace of sadness. “I would hate to have you suffer needlessly, or over anything so stupid as rule-breaking. I expect Darkmoon threatened you today. And dry threat or not, I need you two to stay out of attention. Don’t stand out as troublemakers. If you do the Sperks will fix on you harder than the Fishers.” Then she said with a touch of sweetness, “I love you both so darlingly. I want you to see what I’ve not. Be ready for whatever life throws next.”
It was Mother’s belief that something spectacular was around the corner, and reminded the dragglings to prepare for the next challenge in life. To ready themselves for a surprise so grand it would set them free. But these corners, wherever they were, went unrounded, leaving Mother alone in her fantasy, flying away on far and disconnected thoughts. The sentiment made Nyra squeamish.
“Eat up now, you two. Then we’ve got to go, though I’ve half a mind not to let you.”
“We still get to come to the Gathering?” Blaze asked.
Thaydra’s severity returned. “Only because it’s important.”
The Gathering. Nyra had forgotten it was tonight. Every several months the Agrings would come together in a single, large burrow. Their Alpha Fuhorn would call upon the entire
herd and tell old stories and share aspirations. For the younglings, it was hours of repetitive tales. A scarce few took the opportunity to steal a nap. But the adults always left with their heads held high. Spirits were light as sea foam in the following days, and the coast became fluid with energy. But as time droned on, the excitement fizzled. The Agrings turned cold and monotonous once more, drawing in and pulling out of days like a beaten shoreline. Such was water. Such was life. And only Thaydra seemed to defy it.
Nyra had heard the stories several times. Fuhorn always referred to the tragedies; two failed escape attempts. The second tragedy featured Nyra’s mother and father and Blaze’s biological parents. It painted an image of another existence, one where multiple parents were possible in her life, and her brother from a different family. Nyra would become briefly excited when everyone in the herd turned towards Thaydra, and in the process, Nyra. The next day, Nyra would repeat to her cousins that she too was present on that second escape attempt. Thrills would flutter in her throat until Blaze reminded everyone that she was just an egg at the time (to which he added that he was similarly present).
“But when we get home it’s straight to sleep!” Thaydra barked. “You’ve got a long day of Dam management ahead.”
Blaze bit his lip, holding back a snicker. Nyra also became giddy whenever Mother said ‘Dam management,’ her term for daily Reservoir duties. Mum never realized how naughty it sounded.
Thaydra ripped into her fish urgently, eating a half in one swallow. Her expression was still hard, and she avoided the eyes of her offspring. As she began the second half, she chanced a look at Blaze. He did not eat.
“What was your good news?” she asked with edgy gentility.
“Oh,” he said dully. “We just thought we saw some animals on the horizon near the Green Spot. They were just dots, really. We didn’t get a good look.” He must have said the first fib that came to mind, as Nyra had no recollection of the event.
The Waters of Nyra- Volume I Page 3
