“I can do it. I can do it well, and Roendon-willing, as beautifully as our elders once did.”
“You couldn’t without practicing. And you can’t have practiced. The Sperks would have seen you. It’s like singing—you have to rehearse!”
Nyra wished he’d chosen a cleverer analogy.
“This is not song, Blazing Fire,” said Thaydra. “And learning is without limits, just as long as you find the right way to practice. You may sing your heart out far beneath the ground, and the soil would swallow your voice away. And you may breathe flames until your lungs collapse, if you’ve the water to quench them in time.”
“I don’t get it,” said Blaze.
Thaydra flexed her half wing-span across the den. “After my recapture in the second attempt, Darkmoon wanted to take my life. Slowly, torturously, and before the others in the Nammock herd. I was to be a warning. After watching me suffer, no Agring would ever try to leave again. Though distraught with madness over his mate’s death, Darkmoon soon regained composure. To kill me would punish the herd, but not the perpetrator. It was I who needed to suffer most, and more than just the brief transition of life to death. Instead he became adamant on keeping me alive, just as the other Sperks had insisted—they said I was too valuable to lose.
“So only a few days after that harrowing night, he enacted a loophole, one that fit the Sperks’ demands but met his need for vengeance. He would not kill me. Instead, he called the Agrings to the cliff edge, dragged me there, and tore my wing away and threw it to the sea.”
The dragglings knew this. Everyone did. But the edge in Thaydra’s voice made it frighteningly new. And it was far from finished.
“My livelihood was gone. I was useless, which unsettled a fair number of Sperks. Except Darkmoon. I was maimed, mate-less, suffering. I felt like an infant all over again. That’s what he wanted, usefulness be damned.”
Nyra grabbed her own left wing. Blaze did the same.
“For some while I wandered the hills, stoic, lost. You’d not yet hatched, and so there was nothing for me but to move aimlessly through the days. Sometimes I’d jump off the Dam and crash into the Reservoir, screaming beneath the surface until water flooded my nostrils. It burned, but I did not stop. Looking back I might have drowned more than once.
“For the first few days I was conscious of nothing, just my submerged screaming blocking out the world. Then you were hatched. I began to settle, still grief ridden, but I was no longer useless. I could not be a crusader, but I could be a mother. I had to be responsible, calm. My Reservoir-jumping continued, though I was more meditative. I hovered beneath the surface watching the river fish. And as I became calmer, I was less blinded, more conscious of myself.
“Though I no longer screamed, my throat trembled. My anger had ebbed off, but its ghost continued to haunt my gullet. The base of my neck was hot, I realized. When I was most contemplative, subtle drums fluttered with each swallow. So one day I resolved to push them out. Under water I coughed and spat. Hot bubbles escaped, swirling and shimmering. It reminded me of something I’d never done before. And then it occurred to me: though the bubbles were violent beneath the surface, they broke subtly into the air above, quietly, leaving no trace of their watery secret.”
Nyra was very aware of the heat in her exhales.
“I realized that I, too, was a secret. I was flightless, quiet to the skies like those bubbles in Fitzer’s Reservoir. No one suspected me, no one watched me. To everyone I was useless. But for the first time, I had proven my potential to the most important dragon of all: me. If I could rage all I wanted beneath a barrier, what was to stop me? I started practicing, coughing harder and hotter. Then after months of trying, my throat burned, and I knew I’d done it. The flames did not escape my mouth, but only a tail’s-reach from the air above, I was making fire.”
Blaze moaned, like he was nauseous.
“Fresh-water fishing became my new hobby,” said Thaydra. “I could be at the Reservoir whenever I wasn’t tending you two. Of course the Sperk’s approved; anything to bring in more meals. And over the years I became very good, trying new ideas, like eating dry stems to feed the heat.”
Nyra remembered that first day when they saw Thaydra on the Dam, gulping vanilla flower stems.
“I could spear prey with the same dexterity as my air-born friends. But I knew my true objective. Hunting deep water catches allowed me to practice. Though the flames were always extinguished the moment they hit the water, I could feel the heat growing in my widening throat.
“I did not wait long before telling my closest family. I wasn’t expecting any outcome. I was blinded by invigoration, my own achievement. I was a child wanting to share the good work I’d done. But my friends were wiser and saw potential. The third scheme was born, whereby we would use a fire distraction, and before anyone else could try to procreate, Fuhorn quietly declared a ban on offspring bearing.”
“Good-Light,” whispered Blaze.
“It was horribly received. The ban, that is,” Thaydra said derisively. Nyra knew she was thinking of Tesset, whether it was fair or not.
“But everyone agreed,” she continued. “It was a secret known only to adults. There was no need for anyone young to know, to plant worry in our dragglings at a tender age. When everyone matured, we’d use our age and my firepower to light freedom’s way.”
“And now Darkmoon knows about the age, but not the firepower,” stated Blaze.
“That is correct. Fuhorn had been playing the idea of age in her head for years without telling anyone, but knew herd maturity would not be enough. My talent solidified her plan.”
Nyra was at a loss. Yet she had a thought. It required many words, but she condensed them onto a single nugget of truth.
“Sperks breathe fire too, Mummy,” she said. They hardly ever did. In fact, Nyra had only seen fire once in her whole life. When she was two, increasingly braving the outdoors, three Sperk adolescents circled above, daring each other higher and higher towards a midday sun. One faltered, flapping desperately at the thinning air. Then suddenly, he dropped from the sky and began screaming. On the plummet he grew louder. Smacking the ground lengths away from Nyra, he shot a furious current of scarlet fire to the sky, bigger than anything she’d ever imagined. Little Nyra recoiled from the shouts, but stayed in place, watching the last tendrils of flames disappear in slowed motion.
“Yes, Nyra, they do breathe fire,” said Thaydra. Nyra clipped more of her thoughts down to size until they formed another nugget.
“Our fire’s nothing compared to theirs,” said Nyra. This was just a guess, but it had to be true. “How are you going to fend the Sperks off all by yourself? How is everyone going to fly away with just you breathing in their faces?”
A smile stretched across Thaydra’s electric features. “Because I’m not going to fend them off. I’m going to distract them, remember?”
“How?”
“With a few fish drippings, a meal of dry stems, and the lack of rain.”
Blaze shook his head.
“My darlings, in thirty sunset’s time, I’m going to set the entire Northern Coast on fire.”
Chapter 6: The Third Chance
Nyra could barely imagine her new life, let alone live it. On the outside, it appeared simple. After her ten-day servitude, she woke to no obligations other than where to meet her cousins for regular frivolity. She could play tag, climb trees up by the Reservoir, and acquire fresh stacking stones. Except for the punishment’s shadow waking her earlier than usual, Nyra’s disobedience and its con-sequences had phased out.
But it wasn’t simple. She played a normal draggling, and she did it well. All the while a restless heart writhed in her chest. When her cousins weren’t looking, Nyra would find the Fishers in the sky. To the untrained eye, they landed in the same spot after each catch, then meandered to the Coast fish pile. But Nyra knew better. Subtly, the flyers deviated from their original paths, landing in a new place each time and walking the rest of t
he way to the pile. No one commented on how each dragon held their fish, fangs piercing the delicate abdomens of those rainbowed bellies. No one noticed the pale yellow wetness dripping from their teeth. No one but Nyra and Blaze, in their social circle, anyway. Their cousins, whom they saw most, were still naïve to the impending escape. Nyra and Blaze were sworn to secrecy by Thaydra, who promised more servitude if they did not obey (a sketchy threat, as no Agring knew what things would be like in the near future). Nevertheless, they complied.
Ten evenings before the escape, the twins found Nyra, Blaze, and two cousins in a game of tag behind the Agring Warren. They had an important message.
“Fuhorn is calling another Gathering tonight,” Fidee whispered, dropping a plump sea bass at the dragglings’ feet. She looked back and forth warily. “Not sure if your parents told you yet. Be ready.”
Aisel was quiet at his sister’s side, fidgety. Was he aware of the Gathering’s content? As flyers, he and Fidee had a right to know like the rest of the grownups. Still, Nyra thought they might be sheltered, protected from fear and panic until the last possible moment. They were young after all, even with matured wings.
The twins hurried away before Nyra could speculate further. Though Nyra had not expected another Gathering, she knew with certainty what it was about.
“Another Gathering?” Cousin Jesoam panted, halfheartedly reaching for Cousin Emdu. She had been the tagger. “Why? Why me?”
“What do you mean ‘why you?’” Emdu tested, skipping away from her groping claws.
“I was going to practice my singing tonight,” she complained. “I have to be consistent. I can’t take nights off like this.”
“And what were you practicing before the last Gathering?” A grin crinkled across Emdu’s face. “Cranking that fish eye up your nose?”
“Shut up!” Jesoam shouted, sparing a mortified glance at Nyra and Blaze.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Blaze, solemnly.
Nyra purposefully stepped on his foot. Though Nyra had few qualms about keeping Mother’s and the other grownups’ secret, it gnawed at Blaze like a diseased rat. The future’s tension was too great, and just as Blaze felt an obligation to care for Nyra at her worst, he needed to inform his cousins. As Mother put it, knowledge was the best weapon, and it cut Blaze deeply to wield such power and not share it with his loved ones. But the plan was not his secret to tell, Nyra had reminded him, for the first time being the sensible constituent of their duo.
Blaze shook his head, trying to smile. His limp mouth poorly masked his feelings. “Nostril stuffing is very dignified,” he said to Jesoam. “I’m sure the Zealer princesses do it as a practice.”
A quiver ran into Nyra’s toes. The great ice dragons were gleaming in Blaze’s mind as much as hers. The Zealers across the everlasting sea, the objects of the Fishers’ skewed paths, the escape, and unforeseen dangers too close for comfort.
It was really going to happen.
“What do you think the Gathering’s going to be about?” Emdu mused. Jesoam seethed at his side.
“Dunno,” said Blaze, concentrating on the ground.
“It’s got to be important in grownup terms. But nothing bad has happened. It’s not like anyone’s died,” Emdu yawned.
“Grownup terms?” Blaze said. Frustration panged his voice. “You think we aren’t good enough for important things?”
“No,” said Emdu distractedly. He began rolling in the grass, flicking beetles with each turn. “I just mean that it probably doesn’t concern us. We’re just the eleven-year-olds so–”
“So you think we’re below everything,” interrupted Blaze, swishing his tail angrily. “Tell me then, Emdu, when do we become important enough for grownup matters?”
Though cordial to Mother, Blaze had not quite forgiven her for keeping the escape a secret for so long. It was a feeling he rarely felt towards Thaydra, and never for long. Now he took it out on his cousins.
“Hmm,” said Emdu, oblivious. He was impervious to most emotions, even the angry ones. If Agrings were tail spikes, he’d be the dullest, according to Mother.
A speckled insect crawled up Emdu forelimbs. He rolled it between his claws. Another yawn tugged his jaw downward.
“You become important when you…” he began.
Jesoam leaned in to inspect the beetle. Emdu turned coy. Flinging the beetle away, he sprung up and rounded on his sister.
“You become important when you stuff your first fish eye up your nose!”
“AHHH!” Jesoam screamed and raked a claw through the air, narrowly missing her brother’s flabbergasted face. “Will. You. STOP!” Each word rose up and up above the last, ending in an incoherent shriek.
“Now that’s what I call a singing voice!” said Emdu, running away to Aunt Dewep’s burrow. Jesoam tore after him. Their taunts and shouts could be heard until they disappeared beneath the ground. Blaze and Nyra were left alone. The sea bass stared vacantly at them.
Well, at least they’ll know what’s going on by the end of the night, Nyra thought, watching her skin turn violet beneath cloud shadows. The first sun was set. The beetles chirruped to the familiar tune of autumn winds, the last song before the rain and cold.
“Can you picture ten days from now?” Blaze whispered. “What it’s going to be like? Half the herd gone, I suppose. Just us and a few others left. How long do you think it will take the escapees to reach the Zealers? Then come home again?”
“Your guess is probably better than mine.”
“The ocean’s really, really big,” Blaze continued. “Garrionom is far away, and the Zealers only live at one small part of the coastline. Finding them won’t be easy, if the Agrings even get there.”
A twinge ruptured in Nyra’s throat. “If they get there?”
“Yes. Supposedly, there are islands making a path across the sea. But what if there aren’t? What if it’s just a legend? Also eating’s a big problem. The open ocean may not have lots of fish. Water too. I don’t understand how they’ll get enough water.”
“Agrings don’t need lots of water, you know that,” Nyra explained. “We only drink more than we need because we happen to live next to a river. It’s a habit.”
Blaze knew this as well as anyone. But he needed to accept it. If he did, everything would be alright. So long as Blaze believed, the plan would work.
He shrugged. “But it’s guess work. We can say that there are islands, but no one’s seen them. We can say that we don’t need water, but no one has tried. Everything’s a cluster of theories that we just hope are going to work.”
Nyra’s temper rose, pulsing against a shameful sting in her nose. “But the rainy season’s coming. Even if they did need water, they’d get it from the sky.”
“Fine, then,” he said. “Say we have the islands, the food, the water. These things don’t make the ocean any shorter. Those who get away will have to cheat de—” he hesitated, “cheat a lot of bad.”
“But if we wait, we’ll be forced to breed.”
“But maybe that’s better than the risk.”
“Easy for you to say. You won’t be forced. Or me. We’re too young.”
“Either way, it’s bad,” he said.
Beloved faces shuddered behind Nyra’s eyelids. Rovavik, Dewep, Flame Thistle, and other relatives flew over an expanse of blue, jadedly beating their wings against angry wind. In the distance was a mound of serrated ice, crumbling to iridescent dust as the Agrings edged closure. Slowly, they dipped deeper and deeper towards the sea, the water morphing into a pack of beasts scraping the sky.
“They have to make it,” Nyra said through clenched teeth. “It was Fuhorn’s decision. It must be good.”
Blaze muttered something she could not hear at first. Then the words unblurred: Look at her record.
She didn’t have an argument ready.
“Is that fish I hear?” said Thaydra from inside the burrow. It was her day off, and she’d napped the afternoon away. The sprightliness in her
voice had long vanished, gone since the Fuhorn and Darkmoon incident, which seemed eons in the past.
“Yes,” said Nyra, kneeling to scoop up their dinner. A long red line ran down the belly. Entrails burst from the gut, bulging unnaturally. All fish she’d seen in the last five nights bore this scar.
The Gathering had a quality like no other. No one was bored. The spirit of belief vibrated on the edgy rather than enriching. In lieu of uplifting stories were strategies, dehydrating the warren of any fluid day-dreaming. Nyra’s bone-dry attitude was seasoned by a new flavor; horror.
“Do not be frightened,” soothed Fuhorn. The Alpha was compassionate, but her posture commanded no nonsense. This was a mission, and the suns would not move any slower for the sake of apprehension.
It turned out that Thaydra’s secret was well known prior to the Gathering. Almost everyone bearing usable wings was aware. A disappointing number of bewildered faces rippled through the teal glow. Apparently Nyra had known little ahead of everyone else, which only reminded her of how very young she was.
She ogled over the many able-bodies. They were prepared, and strong. Save for a few lethargic grandparents, the Nammocks were a powerful force. Almost a score intended to leave, and with Thaydra’s distraction, they would surely make it.
The meeting was shorter than the original Gathering. The days had been taxing, and the days to come promised to intensify. Everyone needed to rest.
The families headed back to their own dens. Chatter was forgotten, even for Blaze. Apparently, everything had been covered, and he had no observations left.
Then there was nothing left but the waiting.
The night before the escape found the dragglings wide awake. Thaydra did not insist otherwise. Resting beneath the den’s entrance, they squinted in diminutive moonlight.
The skies were fully overcast for the first time in weeks. Blaze loved cloud cover and he never forgot to share it. Clouds were cozy. When he was little more than an infant, Blaze would rest outside, beamy eyes open to the sky. When asked what he was doing, he always replied, “Looking at their wings,” and nothing more. Nyra did not know what this meant for years, nor why Thaydra looked so heartbroken by his words. Nyra would follow his gaze, spotting dark furls between puffs of gray. Until she was about five years old, Nyra was unable to grasp the concept of ‘adoption.’ But Blaze, like almost everything in his life, soared leagues and leagues ahead, and found solace in the above.
The Waters of Nyra- Volume I Page 11
