The Waters of Nyra- Volume I

by Kelly Michelle Baker

  It was strange to think that she and Blaze were aside their parents on that horrible evening, small, helpless, bound tightly in speckled eggs. Had she heard her father’s cries, or Thaydra’s shrieks when Darkmoon caught them? Nyra often thought about it until her head hurt.

  As Fuhorn told the story, Nyra peeked up at Mother. Her eyes looked like they should’ve glistened, yet they did not. Thaydra never wept, ever. If she did it must have been very secret.

  Fuhorn went on. It took a few moments for Nyra to catch up.

  “‘Why do we keep trying to go north?’ many have asked. ‘It’s too much distance,’ some have said. Many suggested finding another helper, dragons besides the Zealers. Someone more like us. After all, we are not the only Agrings on the great continent of Nyra. Would our fellow species help us? Many believed it was worth the risk; finding new allies instead of traveling an ocean to seek old ones.”

  Nyra felt Blaze’s raspy voice on her cheeks. “We can’t find other Agrings because we’d put them at risk,” he whispered. “Darkmoon might try to enslave them, too.”

  “Good for you,” Nyra scoffed. Sure enough, Fuhorn began to explain as much in a voice that became more and more blurred. Nyra’s eyelids felt heavy. She rested her head on the floor, sideways, so to not graze her budding fangs.

  It was quite true that there were more Agring herds upon Nyra the continent. Agrings dispersed, as did most dragon groups, mostly to divide resources. Prior to the enslavement, these herds occasionally came together to breed. ‘Otherwise, we’d be mating with our siblings and cousins,’ Thaydra had once explained. Disgusted, Blaze and Nyra understood. The explanation ended with Mother prattling on about Tesset, Rovavik’s adulterous mate, who had not only broken his spirit by switching life-companions, but had dispersed her bloodline through the herd with multiple partners. ‘Just what we need, more relatedness in Nammock, and a bunch of Tessets at that,’ Thaydra complained. A good point, Nyra agreed, even if they loved all of Tesset’s children; Aisel, Fidee, and Vor.

  Blaze began to mutter. Nyra only caught the tail-end. Something about other Agrings and being the youngest. In an earlier hour, the little red draggling might have asked what he meant, but the lull of Fuhorn’s deep voice was growing thicker. So thick that the air she breathed patted her skin, hugging her tight.

  As her mind began to cloud with sleepiness, Nyra saw an arrangement of shapes. First she saw the Nammock herd, standing in a cowering bundle against the cliffs, with the Sperks creeping ever closer. Only Mother stood ahead of the group, head high, fangs glistening. From a bird’s eye view, Nyra saw her own figure standing between the herd and Thaydra. She did not edge forward, nor backward. For hours it seemed she was motionless, expressionless, between the pillars of the bold and the fretful.

  The fretful or wise? Although the Agrings shivered with cowardice, they huddled together, whole, far away from the Sperks’ talons. Safer.

  “Nyra.”

  A sharp whisper met her ears, and from her bird’s eye point-of-view, Blaze bustled up from behind, shouting much too close.

  “Nyra!” he repeated urgently. The world turned black and blue, and then Nyra’s eyes flickered open.

  “It’s time to go,” Blaze said.

  Nyra sat up, blinking away the dream. Left and right, Agrings were speaking in hopeful voices, dispersing from the arch. The meeting was over. Uncle Rovavik was just behind her. Thaydra was nowhere to be found.

  “Where’s Mummy?” she asked.

  “Over there,” he replied, throwing his head forward, “with Fuhorn.”

  Squinting through the light of the Zealer Stone, Nyra saw Thaydra and Fuhorn removed from the crowd, mouths moving rapidly.

  Groggily, Nyra faced her brother. “Blaze, it’s never time to go unless Mum is here.”

  “She said she’d only be a second.”

  Nyra threw him a dopey look.

  He sighed. “Yes, I know.” Mother was too chatty.

  “She’s coming,” Rovavik said.

  Thaydra broke away from Fuhorn. Happy as usual, she gave Rovavik a fond nuzzle.

  “Visit me tomorrow, brother,” said the mother dragon. “Eat your evening fish with us. And we’d love your son’s company as well.” Thaydra licked Blaze then moved to Nyra. Nyra jerked away. Tired as she was, the draggling was not yet ready to be civil.

  The voices died down as the Agrings clamored back into their own private tunnels, calling quiet goodbyes over their shoulders. Blaze mimicked the gesture.

  “Goodbye, Aisel. Goodbye, Emdu,” he said as each passed.

  Reaching their tunnel, Thaydra took one last look at the Nammock herd, wistfully. Then she hopped inside. Blaze and Nyra followed in single file, with Rovavik piling dirt behind them. A collage of murmurs buzzed on, so similar to those Nyra had heard upon arrival that it might have been the same moment playing in reverse. Then, the last trace of light disappeared behind her, and all was quiet.

  With just enough moonlight to find the bedding, Nyra settled into what looked like the coziest spot.

  “Ow!” she cried as dry grass-blades pricked her belly. Mum smiled crookedly. Nyra wished very hard she had been silent.

  “Ah, yes,” Thaydra began. “First order of business tomorrow. You and Blaze will replace the bedding. Then come straight to the Dam. No moping, no getting sidetracked! I know how long it takes to pluck new grass, and I’ll know if you’ve been doddling. There’ll be much work to do, so I’ll expect you there before first noon. Understood?”

  “Yes,” said Blaze.

  “Nyra?”

  Don’t look at her, she told herself. Though Nyra’s pride held fast, her eyes were restless. Inadvertently she requited her mother’s gaze for the second time that evening.

  The mother dragon took no notice, or pretended not to. “Goodnight,” she said simply, slumping to the bedding without even a wince. She closed her eyes, and after three clicks of her teeth, found slumber.

  “I wish I could fall asleep that fast,” Blaze murmured in awe. He copied Thaydra by collapsing into the bedding. Crackling sounds preceded his squeak of regret. Nyra held back a snicker. In seconds, Blaze breathed deep and evenly. Nyra soon followed his example, lulled to sleep by the songs of night birds.

  Hours passed. For some of them Nyra slept, for others she squirmed. Star beams bent into the den, shining her awake. She became aware of the prickly bedding all over again.

  Blaze snoozed comfortably at her flank, the grass beneath him compressed to a smooth sheet.

  “Blaze,” she hissed. “Blazing Fire.”

  “What?” came his slurred reply.

  “Do you need all of your bedding?”

  “No.” The word was smashed between his cheeks, squeezing through like an over-chewed fish.

  “Well, can I borrow some?”

  “Yes.”

  He rolled over, his whole body trapping the last clump of soft grass, and fell back asleep, leaving Nyra with just the prickles.

  Chapter 3: Fitzer’s Reservoir

  Just as Nyra nestled into a heavy slumber, the gulls began chittering. Nyra listened behind the safety of her eyelids, her vision turning from black, red, pink, to a squinting yellow. She opened up and met a flash of sunlight. She’d rolled to the den entrance sometime in the night, where now a long thread of sun poked through. Her belly hurt from the bedding. Falling back asleep would not be possible.

  Thaydra was already up, scuffling about the den with a swish in her tail. She met each day like a new taste, one delicious and plentiful. Nyra walked in the dreary shadow of this happiness, the sun digging into her eyes like rodents.

  Thaydra gathered a wad of dry grass in her mouth and trotted to the entrance. She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Hake hin uh, hill oo?” she said, spitting grass in Blaze’s direction.

  “Huh?” said Nyra.

  Thaydra disappeared outside. She returned a second later, mouth empty. “Wake him up, will you?” she repeated. “I want to get this bedding out,
and I can’t do it when he’s conked.” She took another mouthful and leaped out.

  Blaze snoozed in ways that only suited Blaze. In his eleven years, he’d invented more slumber methods than an immortal dreamer. Though he suffered for it at the paw of Nyra’s ridicule, Blaze insisted that his positions were comfortable. Today, Nyra found him in a favorite; neck straight out before him, torso scrunched up so that his posterior reached upward, and in the complete opposite direction of how he’d originally fallen asleep.

  Potent mischief roused Nyra to her feet. “Hey!” she shouted. “The stones are knocked over!”

  Blaze stirred awake. “What?” he said, pucker-faced. The word was as scrunched as his body.

  “Someone knocked all of your stones,” she said. The stone game was a three-tiered competition. On many an afternoon, Nyra and Blaze would perfect the stone towers outside their den, competing to see who could maintain the tallest structure before dinner-time. That was round one. Whoever’s tower was standing by morning was the winner of the second round. Sometimes there were two champions, but more often, two losers. Lastly there was a deduction contest, a race to figure out if weather, bird, Sperk, or Agring had destroyed the towers. This section usually went unsolved, except on very windy nights.

  “What about your stones?” he asked, rump slanting precariously to the side. It flopped over with a thud.

  Nyra peeked outside. With the first sun cresting, the morning tinged pink in the east, promising perfect blue later on. A sunny, late summer day. Ideal for tag.

  Or so it might have been, Nyra thought.

  On the right stood both towers, intact.

  “Just fooling,” she said, losing her zest for the joke. It would be the last game of the day. Mother would have none of them at work.

  Blaze oriented himself, a mixture of upset and relief on his face. “Have you said anything to Mummy?” he asked.

  Nyra cocked her head. “What do you… oh,” she said, remembering. She’d not spoken to Thaydra yet, or had she? Recounting the morning, Nyra tried to recall any verbal exchanges. Only one came to mind.

  “I said ‘huh,’” replied Nyra. “I don’t know if that counts. Her mouth was full and I needed a repeat.”

  “What did she ask?”

  “To wake you up.”

  “Did you respond to that?”

  “No. I don’t know. Does it matter?” It mattered a great deal.

  “Well…” Blaze trailed off. A shadow fell across Nyra’s back as Thaydra returned.

  “Help me?” Thaydra asked, skirting past them to the little pile that remained.

  “Yep,” Nyra replied automatically. Biting her tongue, she shot Blaze a threatening look. Say nothing.

  In two trips they were finished. The second sun was creeping up, bathing the plains in yellow. Beyond the ocean sparkled.

  “I expect it will be warmer than yesterday,” said Thaydra. “More visitors for us.” On hot days, Fishers took breaks at the Reservoir to cool off. It made Thaydra brim. She would have chosen uncomfortable temperatures over loneliness any day.

  “But no playing,” she warned. “If you so much as sneeze on your cousins you can expect to work for the next month. I spoke to Aunt Dewep this morning. Emdu and Jesoam know your situation. They won’t be tempting you. You won’t tempt them either. You’ll be too busy as it is.”

  Blaze looked hurt. “Don’t we get breaks?”

  “Yes,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Fuhorn will likely share her noon break with me. You can join us, or else have a quiet, instigation-less conversation with your sister. But only for a short while. Then it’s right back to it.”

  “To Dam management?” Blaze offered.

  Thaydra frowned. “You are treading thin ice, Blazing Fire.”

  He closed his mouth.

  Other Agrings began emerging from their burrows, savoring final yawns and stretches. Nyra saw Rovavik’s son, Cousin Vor. With a shake of his ears, he darted full speed north. Faster, faster, and then jumped over the cliffs. A great woof, and his wings grasped the air, barreling the wind into leathery black. Then he was out of sight, skimming the sea in search of the day’s first catch.

  “I’m off,” said Thaydra. “I want this bedding finished before the Second Eye arrives where the first one is now. Got it? Then come straight to me. No detours.” She eyed the sky. “See you there.” She ran off towards the Reservoir.

  Blaze looked overwhelmed, gazing at Thaydra until she was out of earshot. “We only have an hour?” he said in disbelief.

  “I guess so,” Nyra shrugged. A bubble formed in her throat. It was an angry bubble, one she knew well. But she’d exhausted so many bubbles last night, much bigger ones full of furious air. This one was trivial by comparison. Taking initiative was easier, for now. She swallowed it down.

  “Come on,” said Nyra, “we have to work fast.”

  They headed south. Most vegetation around the warren and up to the coastline was trampled and worn, unsuitable for collection. Just south was a more-or-less pristine field, with only a few trails created by years of patrolling Sperk guards. Sure as always, a Sperk stood at her post. It was the same one from last night.

  “What would happen if we said hi to Casstooth, do you think?” mused Blaze.

  “You say that every time we come out here,” said Nyra, sifting through the grass. Most of the stems were taught and spiny. The season’s drought had left few soft patches.

  “Maybe since we’re working today she’ll think we’re more important. Maybe she’ll guard us differently.” He stared in awe at Casstooth, groping for stems and missing.

  “Stop, stop,” said Nyra, taking his paw. “Those are too short. Pay attention. We have to hurry.” Taking a mouthful she whisked off to the burrow. Once there, she let it fall to her feet, disappointingly small. This was going to take a lot of trips.

  “Blaze, catch up!” she shouted. He was right behind her, ears flattened.

  Fifteen trips and two arguments later, Nyra and Blaze finished the new bed, larger and billowier than the last. Each time, Blaze watched the Sperk, but did not bring the ‘hi’ matter up again. Their hour was almost over, and Fitzer’s Reservoir awaited, swimming with chores. After one final glance at their stone towers, the dragglings headed west to the Dam, Nyra pinning her wings to her sides the whole way over.

  At a wide bend in the cliffs, the Reservoir was an immense basin of cool mountain water, running from a river that reached back into the heart of the continent. The water pooled beside the bend, spilling into the sea below on the western side. Shooting north was its natural riverbed, clogged by rocks and soil, creating the deep dwelling for the Sperk Dragons.

  The dragglings reached the river bed’s edge and peered down. It was a sharp drop. While most rivers (or so the dragglings were told) gradually dipped into a deeper middle, this one abruptly cut into the ground. Steep sides were optimal for den building, especially for creatures so big, and such was the reason the Dam had been constructed. Once the water had relieved elsewhere, the Agrings got to work digging immense homes for their incapable enslavers.

  A few Sperks rose from their dens. Nyra recognized them. She knew their names, all of them, just as she knew that of every Agring. Like the other half of a family. Not family, yet a casual part of everyday life. The Sperks might have been much older siblings, too busy with themselves to pay any heed, except when it came to bullying.

  “How do we get down?” whispered Blaze. His face was stricken, looking upon the Sperk warren like a venomous snake pit. Though Nyra and Blaze were familiar with the warren, they seldom paid it a visit. Occasionally they’d meander over to see Thaydra, but never in the early morning. Normally, their visits came around noon when Thaydra was at the water-side of the Dam. At daybreak, with so many Sperks rising with the second sun, the riverbed was teeming with blue bodies and almond-shaped eyes.

  “The way Mother gets down,” she said, pointing to a divot on the bank under which jutted a series of ledges; small, but just
large enough.

  Blaze blanched. Nyra, not understanding his sudden tension, peered over the edge again.

  A Sperk was sitting directly below the last foothold.

  Nyra’s stomach curled.

  “We’ll find another route,” offered Blaze, turning hopefully around. “There’s got to be a better way.”

  Liar. Nyra knew that this was the best option. Blaze knew it too. Eleven years of living on the Northern Coast had taught them as much.

  “Maybe we can try climbing down the Dam,” Blaze offered. “You know, given the circumstances?” Climbing on the Dam wasn’t usually allowed. Only Thaydra did it regularly. And for a one winged dragon it was especially dangerous. But at the same time, being wingless had instilled an uncommon skill in Thaydra; coordination. She was the most surefooted dragon on the Coast. Perhaps the world.

  “No,” said Nyra.

  “Come on,” whined Blaze. “What else are we going to do?”

  A seedling sprouted in Nyra’s head. “Well Blaze,” she said, “you know when you wanted to talk to a Sperk earlier?”

  “I didn’t want to talk to her, I just ….hey, no!” he spat. “No no no!”

  “Yes yes yes! This is your chance! Besides, this isn’t a guard we’re dealing with. It’s just Bristone.” Nyra whispered the name, double checking the Sperk’s identity. Lithe and young, the female Sperk’s face curved to a delicate taper, a shade gentler than her fellows.

  “She’s not a grownup,” affirmed Nyra. “She might even be our age. She’s thirteen, I think.”

  Blaze’s face, already drained of color, blanched further. “Nyra, Sperk-thirteen is twice the size of Agring-thirteen. And we’re eleven!”

  “Correction. We’re eleven and a quarter-year.” She paused. “Well, I’m eleven and a quarter-year. You’re eleven and a quarter year minus four hours.” I’m not the youngest. “Think of it this way. She’s a year younger than Aisel and Fidee. And we aren’t intimidated by their age.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she stopped there.