The Prince of Earthen Fire

by B C Penling

  A saddler had measured Zen after the battle and went to work on a new saddle immediately. She worked tirelessly into the night and straight through the following day. By nightfall, she delivered the finished product to the castle and presented it to the dragon. It fit more comfortable than the last and smelled much better, too. Instead of strapping to his hindquarters, it was harnessed to his back. Two pieces of leather each sheathed spikes over his shoulders so the saddle wouldn’t roll. They were connected in the center with another piece of leather that served as a seat. Double girth straps ran behind his forearms to ensure the saddle wouldn’t slip off his spikes if he flew inverted.

  “Want to try it?” Zen asked Lana.

  Before he finished his question, she had jumped up and started climbing up his tail. She walked along his back and slipped into the saddle. The saddler had padded the seat making it much more comfortable than she imaged it was going to be. On the spike sheath in front of her were two strips of leather for her to hold on to and on the sheath behind her were loops to put her arms through. The girth straps had loops on either side for her feet to slip into; her choice which ones to use.

  “I’m ready,” Lana said.

  Zen stood up and lumbered to the balcony. He leapt over the railing, spread his wings and glided over the city. He flew to the top of Creau Plateau and landed softly.

  “This one is much better than the old one,” Lana said.

  “In many ways,” Zen added. “If it wasn’t for your weight I think I’d forget it was there.”

  Below them, Meridsani would’ve looked peaceful had it not been for the scorched earth and scattered bones. Birds flocked over the trees to reach their roosts for the night. They twittered softly to each other as they settled.

  Zen looked at Lana. A smile spread slowly across his face. Zen jumped off the plateau and turned north. She held fast to the leather straps in front of her as they dropped in a steep glide slope; her stomach in her throat as they dove.

  He spread his wings slowly, adjusting into a shallower dive and twenty feet above the ground he stiffened his wings. Lana was pushed into the saddle seat as they gained altitude quickly. They came level with the plateau before Zen started flapping. Twice the height of the plateau now, he looked at Lana again and grinned mischievously.

  “Uh oh,” Lana said. “Zen, what are you doing?”

  Zen laughed. “Hold on!” He allowed his wings to stall. His hind end dropped and he tucked his wings. Head over tail they fell.

  Sky. Earth. Sky. Earth.

  They tumbled toward the ground. He extended his wings and they returned to the sky once again. As he flew, he rose and dipped, rolled and looped, then leveled off right below the clouds. Staying seated in the saddle was remarkably easy.

  “Zen,” Lana yelled. “Catch me!”

  He looked behind him in time to see Lana leap out of the saddle. He rolled his eyes playfully.

  “It’s hard to try out a saddle when you’re not in it, you know!” Zen hollered down at her. In pursuit, he rolled onto his back and nosed down. He opened his wings lazily and matched her falling speed. “Well, get on.”

  She grabbed the shoulder loop and the leather strap and pulled herself into the seat. She hooked her feet into the stirrups and put her arms through the back harness. He leveled out with plenty of altitude to spare.

  Ahead of them was the largest fishing village north of Meridsani named Portsani. Portsani’s fishers supplied much of the fish to Meridsani. Beyond Portsani was the bay where boats moored and beyond that was the wide open ocean. The twinkle of sunlight on the water was scarce since Sunrest was nearly consumed by the horizon.

  Zen veered toward the last light of Sunrest, towards the death of the day, and then south to return to Meridsani. It was dark when they landed on the balcony.

  Barator lounged in a high backed chair. With one hand he pet Caeda, with the other he held a mug of mault in front of the fireplace. “I’m assuming you like the saddle?”

  “A brilliantly crafted piece that’s comfortable, practical and flexible,” Zen replied.

  “There’s also no sacrifice in quality. It’s made of the finest leather,” Lana added.

  “True compliments,” Barator said. “And rightly so, I commend my leatherworkers and tanners. It does look mighty fine on you, Zen.”

  Zen bowed his head to Barator to acknowledge his comment and when he did, Lana leapt down from his back to seat herself in a chair beside the fireplace to warm up. Caeda jumped from the armrest of Barator’s chair to Lana’s lap and curled up in her lap. Lana petted the small, scaled creature and from her came a low grumbling like a barn cat purring.

  “I planned a hunting trip wakeward of the cacti fields if you wish to accompany me,” Barator said to Zen.

  “Thank you for the offer,” Zen said. “I must humbly decline. Your hospitality has been exceptional, as usual.”

  “But you need to leave,” Barator said. “I understand. You know my home is open to you anytime; as long as you don’t break any of my thresholds.” Barator smirked and drained the last of his mauck.

  “Thank you, Barator,” Zen chuckled.

  Barator looked at Lana. “That’s also applicable for you, Lana. You are not excluded from my offer.”

  Lana voiced her gratitude and Barator stood. “Supper will be ready in short order. I’m going to wash up and will meet you both there. Zen. Lana. Caeda.” He scratched the top of her head as he walked past Lana’s chair to exit the room.

  “Zen, I don’t want to live in Elventon,” Lana rebutted. “I want to stay with you.”

  “You belong with elves, too.” Zen smiled softly at Lana.

  “Is that what you think or is that what your Elders think,” Lana said grumpily.

  Zen sighed and looked at her with kind, caring eyes. “I don’t want for you to leave my side, nor do I want to leave yours. I will not return to Bledsoe, Lana. My home is where you reside. I’ll seek permission to live in Elventon. As for what the Elders think, they can stuff it where they talk from. I'm listening to them no longer.”

  “Their ways are foreign to mine so I cannot speak for them.” Lana looked into those big, beautiful amber eyes. “What if they don’t allow you to live among them?”

  “Then we will find our own way in the world,” Zen said. “We could even return here and live in Barator’s kingdom.”

  “He’d have to evict you if he ever held a ball,” Lana laughed.

  “Maybe I’ll make a cave in the side of the plateau,” Zen said. He thoughtfully tapped his chin with the tip of his tail. “Or we could explore all of Ancienta, from ground to clouds, from rivers to peaks, from ocean to ocean. We could chase Sunwake and Sunrest across the sky!” He tucked his snout, spread his wings and closed his eyes. “I can already smell the clouds.”

  Lana scooped Caeda to her shoulder and ran to Zen. She wrapped her arms around his head and hugged him tightly. “I’ll go anywhere you do. If you cannot stay, then I won’t either.”

  “Promise?” Zen asked softly.

  If ever a heart could weep, Lana’s did. The sincerity of his voice, the innocence of his tone, had her emotions reeling. She loved him. She didn’t doubt it now.

  “I promise.”

  The door opened and a servant announced supper.

  “Let’s not keep Barator waiting.” Lana struggled to get the words out while releasing her hold on Zen. She climbed into the saddle for a flight to the other side of the castle. She didn’t much feel like a race.

  A heavy meal of venison steaks, potato soup, bacon with green beans, and many more delectable dishes awaited Lana. Barator, as usual, started to talk animatedly about his ventures across the sea and to his cities. She realized, as he spoke of visiting Genetricis, how much she’d miss him. She enjoyed his energetic persona and admired him for his steadfast love of his people and dedication as a leader.

  They finished the meal with hot mault and cacti pie beside the fire. Barator spoke jovially about Zen and Lana’s return
to Meridsani in the future and reminded them that they were always welcomed.

  Her mind wandered a little to the elves in Elventon. Rejoining a branch of her kin would mean adopting their formalities and likely not having the freedoms she did in Arbortown. Would she be able to come and go as she pleased? She liked the freedom to explore, something that she was certain she would lack in Elventon.

  Dagan’s brightest moon, Tahira, crept higher in the sky and joined the many sparkling stars and duller lesser moons that dotted the night sky. In the ballroom, Lana packed the clothing Barator had given her after she lost everything in the Gour’s sand. She donned a heavy jacket and turned to Zen.

  “Zen, the whole time we’ve been here we haven’t met the king,” Lana stated.

  “I’ve met him once before,” Zen said. “He lives in a different city to the north. He has Barator handle his affairs nowadays.”

  “Why doesn’t he live here in Meridsani and still have Barator lead?”

  “I suppose he’s enjoying his solitude,” Zen replied. “After years of being prepped to run a kingdom, and even more of ruling a kingdom, he’s retired himself to...”

  “Fish,” Barator interrupted. “He wanted to spend more time fishing.” He walked into the room carrying a sack of food. “In case you’re hungry along the way or are delayed arriving, I packed you some travel rations.” His eyes twinkled with kindness.

  “Thank you, Barator,” Lana said. “You’ve been most generous.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” he said softly. “You’ll always be welcomed here, Lana. Come back for a visit, or stay permanently, if you wish. Oh, yeah, and you, too, Zen. I never get tired of saving your hide.” Barator laughed.

  “Just you wait,” Zen said. “One day I’ll save you.”

  “In ways you already have.” Barator smiled.

  “And stop getting sweet on Lana, it’s disgustingly obvious.” Zen made a face and stuck out his tongue. Lana giggled into her hands.

  “Zen!” Barator yelled. “I’m being a hospitable host.” He held his hands out, palms up, in a half-shrug.

  “Here, I’ll hang this on the loudmouthed, winged mule,” Barator said, half rolling his eyes when he strode to Zen’s side. He hung the food on his neck and pointed at him. “Not for you.”

  Zen puffed smoke at him.

  Lana donned her gloves and jacket then sat in a chair by the fire. She slipped her feet into a pair of golden leather boots lined with soft, warm rabbit fur to keep her warm in flight. She never had cared for the colder yearend weather but knew it was necessary for life on Dagan. Yearend rains, frosts and snowfall in higher elevations brought sustainability to novelyear’s flora.

  “Here,” Barator said, walking over to Lana. “Let me get that for you.” He lifted his hand before him, palm down. Two of his fingers were curled down to touch his palm, leaving his thumb, index and middle finger straight. He pointed to Lana’s forehead and closed his eyes. When his middle finger touched her, a warm shiver ran from her scalp to her toes and back to where his skin contacted hers.

  “There.” Barator lowered his arm. “That ought to keep you warmer on your flight. Your cold weather clothes are extra warm now and rain-proof.”

  “That’s amazing,” Lana said. She touched her forehead, rubbing it lightly.

  “Oh, you just rubbed it off,” Barator crooned disappointedly.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that would happen,” Lana said quickly. Her eyes were wide.

  “You can’t rub off magic,” Zen said with a chuckle. “He’s pulling your tail.”

  Lana looked at Barator. His lips slowly snaked into a juvenile smile. His eyes sparkled in amusement. She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in discomfiture before dawning in recollection.

  “That’s Magarei, isn’t it?” Lana speculated. “You mentioned one of your ancestors married an elf. It must’ve been one of the old elves. I’ve heard only some elves in Elventon can still use it. Are you the only one?”

  “Very good, Lana,” Barator replied. “Yes, it is Magarei and no, I’m not the only one. There are many of my relations residing in Meridsani. Children and grandchildren of my father's younger sister, my Aunt Rannora, whom can also wield it but to varying degrees. Some have the ability to encourage plants to grow, so they’re our farmers. Sometimes it manifests in a heightened trade skill like tailoring. It depends and it can even skip generations. Luckily for me, my father fancied elves like his father before him.”

  “Oh? Your mother is an elf?” Lana asked, surprised.

  “Yes,” Barator said. “She’s gone the way of the Elves of Fire.”

  “She exploded!” Zen exclaimed. “Terrible!”

  “Zen,” Lana said. “Not funny!” She pointed at him.

  “It could be worse,” Zen replied with a shrug. “I never had a mother. I can’t even say if she…” He made an exploding volcano sound with his mouth and a motion with his hands of them being blown away from each other.

  Barator stared at Zen with an amused expression. “Nobody knows what happened to her. She disappeared one day and my father retired soon after. He looks for her from time to time, fishes in between. Mostly fishes.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lana said.

  “She taught me Magarei so I could pass it to future generations. I remain hopeful she’ll return one day, so don’t be sorry,” Barator said. He took Lana’s hand in his and looked at her intensely. “Whenever you come back, I’ll be delighted to show you more. Maybe even teach you.” He wrapped her arm around his and escorted her to Zen’s side.

  “Well, my friends,” he said. “As much as I dislike farewells, I gather I’m delaying you.”

  “Hugely,” Zen jested. “If you’re not careful, we might stay forever and you’ll never be able to get rid of us.” He cracked smile and earned a smirk from Barator.

  “Thank you for everything,” Lana said.

  He stepped forward and embraced her. Barator’s hug was impossible to avoid. “A farewell should never be only spoken.” He stepped away and wrapped his arms around Zen’s neck just like he hugged Flaxen’s. “You better take good care of Miss Lana, my old friend,” he said. “Include yourself while you’re at it. I couldn’t imagine a world without either one of you.”

  Caeda uncamouflaged herself and leapt at Barator. She landed on his chest and furrowed her little lizard face angrily. Barator laughed, petted her head and scooped her off his tunic. “You, Caeda, are a very special little gragon. I know you’ll watch out for Lana.” Caeda made a purring sound and jumped back to the saddle. Her large eyes watched Lana intently while she climbed into her seat.

  Zen stood. “We’ll meet again soon.”

  “Is that a promise or a threat?” Barator asked, eyeballing Zen suspiciously.

  “Could be both.” Zen grinned and walked to the balcony.

  Lana waved to Barator and said her final thanks and farewell.

  “My doors are always open to you two,” Barator called out.

  Zen nodded and leapt into the night sky.

  CHAPTER 15

  ELVENTON

  The wind filled Zen’s wings and carried him over the plateau. The night was chilled with silvery clouds sparsely streaked across the sky. The moon was full and cast its light upon the land. To the south was the Gour Desert with its cacti looming like evil pillars on the sprawling plane of sand.

  In the distance were the ghostly slopes of the Alven Mountains south and sunrest from them. The tallest of their peaks were concealed by a thick layer of hoary clouds. Lana strained her eyes and tried to get a glimpse of Armalin where Zen put her mother to rest. The loss of her family and friends still weighed heavily on her mind and heart. Sadness welled silently inside her. Although sorrowful at their remembrance she was also thankful for meeting Zen. If the Warisai had not attacked and desolated her entire community then she wouldn’t have met Zen and been thrust into such a strong friendship with the dragon. These feelings confused her and she felt as if she had betrayed the
ir memory. She shut her eyes to fight off tears and rested her head on the leather saddle sheath behind her.

  Zen descended slowly and landed on the sunrest ledge of the plateau which ended abruptly in a cliff that plummeted sharply for five-hundred feet.

  “Elventon is in a valley across these hills about halfway to the sea,” Zen said. “I hope they don’t mind company at this hour.”

  Lana smirked. If they turned them away, it would give her an excuse to leave. She didn’t want to be among her people and was in no hurry to arrive at Elventon at any hour, at all. Zen stepped off the ledge and opened his wings.

  They flew over the grassy hills and all too soon spotted lanterns burning in the distance. Lana’s heart jumped into her throat as she fought back the urge to cry. What if they kept her and made him leave? She never wanted to part with him but what if she was forced to?

  They reached Elventon. The lanterns burned bright but no one was in the streets and Zen could see no sentries on post. He landed on a nearby hilltop right outside of the town and walked quietly down the hill towards the city. From the prestigious elvin buildings came no sound.

  “Zen,” Lana said quietly. “I don’t think anyone is here.”

  “I think you’re right,” Zen replied.

  “You don’t think the War…” Lana began. A lump swelled in her throat. She swallowed stiffly and listened to her heart pound in her ears.

  “No,” Zen had interrupted, “I don’t smell them. I can only smell elves and spices.”

  He walked into the streets of Elventon and found them as deserted as the plateau they flew over. There was no one there. Not even animals roamed the streets or made noise in the stables. Suspicion rose within him and curiosity ebbed into his thoughts. If elves had gone away to fight, there would still be the children and their caretakers inhabiting the city. They would've been tending the gardens and livestock but there was no one there.