He stopped at Opalheart’s shrug. “This is only what I’ve heard,” said the Sperk. “But don’t worry too much. As I said, something so drastic as death and torture are dry threats, if he made them at all.”
Blaze blanched.
“Not that Darkmoon backs out on his promises,” Opalheart muttered to himself. “That risks losing credibility. Darkmoon is no idiot.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Nyra said. “You say Darkmoon is no idiot, but wouldn’t he have to be? We don’t lay eggs for twelve years and Darkmoon doesn’t say a word until now? Did he really notice?”
“Oh, he’s noticed.” Opalheart nodded matter-of-factly. “But Darkmoon likes to ponder, to wait for a problem to move first, dare the Agrings to turn the world upside down. He bides his time, waiting for you to either breed or do something rash. Let’s face it—running the Sperk colony is easy. He needs something to keep his mind active.”
“But why now?” asked Blaze.
Opalheart shrugged. “Maybe he figured that ‘rashness’ was just around the corner, and wanted to squash it before it flew off.”
Or maybe it’s our fault, thought Nyra. They’d spoken of breeding on the punishment’s first day, stopping only as a Sperk on the shore (Shalebreeze, if she remembered right) overheard their conversation.
“Whatever got the hooves running in his mind again, I can’t say,” Opalheart said dismissively. “But they’ve been trotting forever. If he hadn’t brought it up that day, it would have been another day in the near future.”
“Why the near future?” asked Blaze.
“Because you dragglings are on the brink of something very important.”
Nyra fiddled with her claws before the answer dawned.
“Flying!” she and Blaze chimed together.
“Exactly. Only until recently, I think Darkmoon wasn’t worried about you doing anything rash. But with your coming of age, the threat’s just been growing, and he thinks it’s ready to blow up. You’re almost old enough to fly. Very soon, everyone in your herd will be able to get into the air.”
“Except Mum,” Blaze whispered. His left wing twitched.
“Except Thaydra,” Opalheart agreed.
Nyra’s head buzzed, searching for a blue bee of logic in the yellow clouds of her thoughts. “B-but it doesn’t matter,” she stammered. “So what if we all can fly. Even if it were true, that we were planning a mutiny, what were we gonna do? We’d never escape. Every time we’ve tried we’ve failed. Badly.”
“That’s probably right,” said Opalheart. “You Agrings have tried to get away twice, and at a cost.”
“Right,” snapped Nyra. “What have you to lose?” Her ears lowered, aware that she was sneering. To group him with the Sperk herd this way was unfair, now that she knew him. But prejudice, especially the inborn kind, never died easy. Or so Thaydra had explained.
But Opalheart did not seem hurt. “From your perspective,” he said, “the escape attempts have hit you hardest. But remember, you are not the sole dragons suffering. Stopping you from getting away goes much deeper than a few lost Agrings”
In the second attempt, Blaze’s parents and her father were not the only lives lost. Just the only Agrings.
“And so the fact remains that you are old enough to fly and no new slaves are being born. Darkmoon has finally decided to put a stop to it, even if late in the game. He’s confident, but that doesn’t make Royalwing’s death reversible to …”
“Blaze!” a shrill shout sounded over the water. “Nyra! Come!”
“It’s Mum,” said Blaze.
Thaydra shook herself dry on the bank, calling the dragglings’ names between shakes.
“Yes,” said Opalheart, warily. He watched Thaydra, the pang of a wrong-doing child in his statuesque physique.
“It’ll be alright,” said Blaze, reassuring the Sperk. “We were going to find out soon as it was.”
Opalheart did not move. “But you think it’s just Tesset that’s making her angry…”
“Eat now or never!” called Thaydra.
“We’ve gotta go,” said Blaze, running off. Nyra followed him, but her brother turned to face Opalheart one last time.
“Thanks,” Blaze said.
“Go on,” said Opalheart. He smiled, lighthearted and carefree to the passive observer, but with anxiety’s scar wrinkling his snout.
As they trotted over to claim their meals, Nyra and Blaze argued whether or not to mention their Opalheart conversation to Thaydra.
“We can’t now,” Blaze said. “Tesset’s made her angsty.”
“You’ve always said that the best time to get answers is when she’s mad.”
“When she’s vulnerable,” corrected Blaze. “What if she extends our punishment? Do you want to be back here tomorrow, the next day, and the next day, and the next …”
“I got it, I got it, I got it,” said Nyra. “But we’ll take the risk.”
“Fine. Fine. Fine. But we wait until tonight.”
Nyra nodded. So sensitive a subject deserved the privacy of their burrow. Besides, Mother would be even more prone to telling the truth when alone together.
Thaydra was still fuming by the time they reached the shore. Finding a rare patch of soft grass a ways away, the dragglings ate by themselves. Each chew was almost silent as they watched her. She stared at the clouds like they were fluffy white Tessets scoffing across the sky. Occasionally, she muttered to herself, and the dragglings emulated her jaw trying to pick up words.
“What was that one?” said Nyra, ears perked. “It looked throaty.”
“It was a ‘krr’ sound. This is the fourth time she’s done it. I think she’s saying Crimson.”
“Crimson?” Mum didn’t speak of Fuhorn’s eldest deceased son but for on rare occasions, usually the most emotional ones.
“She must be really miffed.”
“Uh-huh.”
Their chattering built as they returned to fish and went non-stop into the afternoon. Pinkening light began to lick the clouds, and Quay’s first eye dipped into the sea, dragging the punishment with it. Forgetting the seriousness of the afternoon, Blaze began to splash around his sister.
“Glee to glee, free to free! That’s what we be! Hee-hee-hee! See?”
“Oh shush,” grumbled Nyra. She had not forgotten.
Thaydra growled as they met the shore, catching the end of their banter. “Oh, swallow your tail blades, Nyra. He’s just having fun,” she said, running up the hill.
Blaze stopped dancing. “Don’t make her too mad,” he whispered.
“Then, if I were you, I’d stop singing,” Nyra said through gritted teeth.
They walked home. Dinner was waiting for them at the den’s opening. The twins had come early.
“We’ll eat outside tonight,” Thaydra murmured. Nyra noted the Green Spot, the luminescent point upon the sea, glowing softly in the coming evening. Above, a v-formation of white herons graced the sky, combing the air on ethereal wings. Fall’s bite was near, bordered by migrating creatures seeking the peace of the inland. The coming months promised thickened clouds, heavy with seasonal rains and thunder. In a month, maybe less, the Northern Coast would be stormed by nature’s fury, screaming off the skies more than Thaydra on Tesset.
Nyra watched her mother carefully, exchanging an occasional look with her brother. What should we say? Opalheart had said so much. Thaydra had said nothing. So tempting it was to leap into questioning. Was it worth the risk? If Thaydra didn’t want to discuss, wheedling would prove fruitless, or worse, put them in her servitude forever.
And what was there to gain? Nyra thought. A sad description of Fuhorn getting berated? The poor Alpha had been accused of mutiny, accused of forcing the Agrings to not breed. It was both depressing and outrageous. But then again, why had Thaydra kept it from them? Was she too angered by Darkmoon to say anything? Did she not trust her children with a grownup topic? Eleven years old was not enough for flying, but neither Nyra nor Blaze were too chi
ldish to understand. It was not fair. She could find no good reasons for her mother’s silence.
Thaydra slipped into the den. Nyra followed, legs wobbling with uproar.
Now.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Nyra cried.
Thaydra spun around. “I beg your pardon?” she said, honestly confused.
It made Nyra angrier.
“Why didn’t you say anything about any of this?”
“Keep it down, Nyra!” spat Blaze, running in behind her.
“What is she talking about,” asked Thaydra. She addressed Blaze, though her eyes bore into her daughter. He began throwing dirt over the den entrance.
“S-she’s upset,” he stammered.
Thaydra edged closer. “Why?”
Blaze stopped tossing. The burrow was only half covered. Though trying to keep the peace, Nyra could see his watery bead of his patience evaporating away, replaced by the fires of curiosity.
“Opalheart told us about Fuhorn and Darkmoon,” he said.
A shifty sniffle came from Thaydra. If Nyra didn’t know better, she would have thought Mum was dumb to the entire thing.
“And what did he say?” Thaydra asked calmly.
“Everything!” said Nyra.
Blaze hushed his sister. “No, no,” he said. “Just how Fuhorn justified the breeding issue.”
Thaydra wandered to the bedding. Scooping fresh grass in her paws, she sniffed each blade. She did not look at her children.
“Opalheart says Darkmoon didn’t believe Fuhorn’s excuses,” shouted Nyra. “He thinks it runs deeper than it looks.”
Thaydra paused. The blades dropped to her feet.
“Opalheart is naïve,” muttered Thaydra.
“But he—”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Thaydra began to pace.
Blaze trembled. Nyra watched her mother make a groove across the den, her claws digging fiercely in the soil. They waited. By the time Thaydra stopped, the light at the entrance was no longer evening-pink. She wandered over, and with two swoops of her paws, covered of the rest of the entrance, but for a small crease at the top where white moonlight could listen in. Mother turned into a black outline.
“You weren’t supposed to hear this yet,” she said mildly. Her anger was vanished, replaced by defeat.
“Too late,” said Nyra, no longer afraid of getting punished.
Thaydra swallowed. Eerie air sucked heavily into her lungs, in and out. One, two, three, four... four breaths. Nyra’s eyes adjusted to the darkness in increments, matching Mother’s inhales.
“Well, then.” Sad moonlight glowed over her scarlet form, white fangs flashing like fresh tears. Then, lifting a single pawful of dirt, she blotted the last bit of light away.
A Gathering, a private one the dragglings had not before experienced. One where they made up the entire audience. The very idea made Nyra brim darkly.
“Yes, my darlings, Opalheart is right.” Her voice moved closer and settled somewhere in the center of the den. “We were working on a third attempt. The best one, flawless.”
Nyra’s back legs teetered. She thudded on her rump. Rebellion was the stuff of history, a fixture of the intangible past. The idea clashed with the present, where she piled stone towers and played tag with her cousins. Though the world around her was fraught with sadness, the Northern Coast was a place of peace. Peace, but for the problems that even she admitted were petty. Petty in the grand scheme of things. Nyra’s life was on a forkless path, where she hadn’t the motivation or direction to pave anything new.
Blaze shifted at Nyra’s side. He cleared his throat.
“Mum, I’m sorry, but... but it didn’t sound flawless at all,” he said sheepishly. “I mean, we don’t know what the attempt entailed, not completely… but flawless?”
“Everything great has long-shots, my darlings. Escaping has never been simple.”
“Or successful,” added Blaze.
Thaydra ignored him. “We were going to get away in two year’s time.”
Nyra tried swallowing a lump in her throat, but it held fast.
“Two years from now, we were all to take off at the same time. Unexpectedly, after sunset turned the Coast dark. Agrings everywhere, confusing the Sperks. With so many able Agrings, some would be certain to get away. These lucky ones would then fly north to our allies. The Zealers. They’d help us reclaim the Coast, and finally, finally, fortune would be on our side.”
Nyra knew Thaydra’s diction well. She was a good speaker, and even candidly could assume a storyteller’s delivery. Now her language emulated that of a much older dragon, one worn and tired. Yet through it all, pride swelled her words, rejuvenating her tale to an unusual caliber.
“But time came with consequences,” said Thaydra importantly. “Time afforded Darkmoon observation, to spot us and confront us. A lack of screaming newborns was obvious, and yet years and years went by without him saying a word. So we continued to wait, not jumping, not budging, just staying true to everyday business. But two years too soon, a guard heard the musings of a couple of curious dragglings, took it for an uprising and reported to Darkmoon. And it was then that Darkmoon gave Fuhorn an ultimatum.”
Nyra heard Blaze crumple to the ground. So it was us. We were overheard.
“I struggled to tell you. To save you from the guilt. And fear. I couldn’t bring myself to scare you. Do you understand?” Thaydra wrung her claws, claws that Nyra was at last beginning to see, along with other details in the darkness.
“I guess,” said Blaze, reaching towards her. Thaydra stepped back. “But I don’t understand everything. There’s more.” Blaze squinted, thinking hard. “You were arguing with Tesset today and—”
“Best not bring that up,” Thaydra interjected. “I was mad. I was frustrated. And to top it off, Tesset is horrible.” She spoke like that was to be the last word on the matter. Just as Bristone had done when explaining the hunting call.
But Blaze chose not to obey. “Tesset said something I didn’t get. She… it was like ‘Are you still going to be mad at me later?’ Did she mean the escape two years from now?” He paused, muttering to himself and shaking his head. “No, no, that can’t be it. Fuhorn and Darkmoon talked days ago. You all have known for days that the two-year plan was cancelled.”
Thaydra quivered. Sour bile rose in Nyra’s throat.
“Do remember what else she said, my Blaze? When she was standing up on the hill?”
“She said ‘Thirty sunsets will pass sooner than you think,’” Nyra whispered.
“My darlings,” Thaydra uttered, “we are getting out in fifteen days.”
Dunked in the ice water of her mental recesses, Nyra sucked for logic’s air. Blaze whimpered.
“Breathe, it’s all right,” advised Thaydra, glancing up at the congested entrance. Nyra leaned on Blaze, his vibrating flanks soothing her wracked chest.
“We’ve waited far, far too long to not try,” said Thaydra. “We’ve planned since the days of your hatching. As far as time goes, this has been our most expensive preparation. And we will not relinquish it for a bunch of foolish Sperks.”
“Foolish?” Blaze complained. “No, no, Mum, it’s madness! Darkmoon knows what we’re doing, and on top of it, the whole herd can’t even fly.”
“That’s true, I’m afraid. But we are taking the risk. The young will stay behind with a few adults. We’ll fair well. In spite of the fools.”
“How can you call them fools?” Blaze cried.
“Because they are. They know a lot, but not everything.”
“Opalheart said Darkmoon expected us to do something rash. This is infatha... unfath...”
“Unfathomably,” offered Thaydra.
“–unfathomably rash! Can’t we wait?”
“No,” said Thaydra.
“No?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Darkmoon may know why we’ve stopped bearing offspring—so that we’d all have a chance
to get away in two years without the physical and emotional setback of helpless dragglings. But as to our methods? Darkmoon’s headfirst in mud.”
“But he knew our methods,” argued Blaze. “We’ll have large numbers flying off and hope some get out. You just said—”
“Yes. Darkmoon figured out the diversion. That’s not the unexpected part. There’s another piece. I’ve been working on it since your fathers passed.”
“What is it?”
Thaydra squirmed. Nyra could see her mother had something horrible and wonderful inside her, a secret one could never tell no matter how hard they wished. Now, Thaydra had no time to think it over.
“Fire,” said Thaydra.
There were things you just did not do. Laws learned at infancy were imprinted, like a mind block that made misbehaving impossible. You simply wouldn’t, couldn’t because the rules pronounced it unattainable.
Fire was one such restriction. In secrecy Nyra faked it, while dreaming up fantastic make-believe. She would feel the spark-bones rubbing deep in her neck, revving into heat and snaps of embers. Behind her eyelids, blurry trees would race beneath as she flapped faster and faster into the blossoming flames shelling from her throat.
Nyra recalled an incident last month. Emdu and Jesoam, her cousins, had insisted that no Agring could breathe fire, at least no one in the herd. “It’s like singing,” Jesoam had said, who would make song analogous to any situation. “You can’t do it unless you practice. And you have to start at a young age and build your muscles.” Nyra retaliated, not wanting her cousin to break out into a tune. And so Nyra had narrowed her throat and exhaled sharp, raspy air. Increasingly hot breaths baked her tongue, and a strange crackle raced above her lower jaw. Hotter, hotter. Then a voice had thundered over the hills. A guard galloped to their sides, shrieking in a tone that made Nyra’s spark bones chill to ice. They had never thawed.
“That’s not possible,” said Blaze in the quiet.
“Possible, and real,” said Thaydra.
“You can’t do it.” Blaze spoke confidently. It was not unlike Mother to believe in the radical. If she was batty enough to think they could escape, then pretty flames could just as easily dance in her fantasies.
The Waters of Nyra- Volume I Page 10
