by B C Penling
“What?” Zen exclaimed.
“The only way they could fix your badly broken wing was to forge the bones together. They used the strongest, lightest material they had. That happened to be alvenite. You’re a dragon. You came from Dagan like the dwarfs did after your kind. They’ve been healing bones like this since before you hatched, which, I say is a good thing.”
Zen stared at him for a long moment, perplexed. “And how did that disgusting mash help? I can still taste it.”
The man chuckled. “It was used to sedate you and repair your muscles, ligaments and tendons. It’s a mixture of moth…”
“No! I don’t want to know!” Zen interrupted quickly.
Arley burst out laughing suddenly. “Nof tuko.”
“They needed to keep you still for at least a week for it to work properly. Your time is up,” the man said.
A dwarf walked over to Zen from one of the cave openings. He was taller and stockier than Arley, as many of the dwarfs happened to be, but he was much older. A white beard extended to his knees. He had a kind face with vivid green eyes, the right eye was lazy. The dwarf smiled and clasped his hands together. Zen noticed that his hands, as old as he was, showed little sign of age.
“Good to see you awake, dragon,” he said. “I assume you are happy with your healing?”
“I am,” Zen said. “I have my wings back.”
“That is good thing for a dragon,” the dwarf replied. “Arley is my grandson of my grandson. We share the name.” He put his arm around smaller Arley and pulled him close to him. “He is a good dwarf. Do not listen to what other dwarfs say. He has good heart, like you. Many thanks for saving him.”
“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t help him,” Zen replied. “I’m Zenith Zephyr but you can call me Zen.”
The dwarf’s eyes went wide and an excited smile crossed his face. “You are the mighty Firth’s son!” he said, pointing at him.
Zen blinked, stunned. “How’d you know?”
“We dwarfs cannot forget Firth. He was well welcomed here in days past. His action in the war is well-known. He saved many dwarfs that day when the Malworn attacked our valley outside the cave. He was injured so I healed him. We became friends and he told me about you.”
“I never knew,” Zen said. “I was never told.”
“He said that would happen. He knew that you had a fighting heart, a good heart, and the wyverns saw it, too. They did not want you to know your father’s heroics because they did not want you to encourage wyverns to fight.”
“That would explain a lot,” Zen replied. “They disciplined me if I ever tried to defend myself from wyverns that treated me poorly.”
“That is because you are not like them. You are the son of Magnen and you were created to fight against the bad. It is in your blood and it is in your heart. Muzh U Kijo has told me of you and the elf. You must find her and keep the bad away. They want Magnen's heart to make all Dagan their slave. Protect Dagan.”
Zen was astounded. He looked at the old man with an expression that said as much.
“There are ways to communicate with the ones who are Dagan’s guards,” he said. “Your friend Thalassinus happens to be a mutual friend. He called me to ensure you were well taken care of on land. The Warisai showed up at Port Eyzin before I did. As timing would have it, we met up anyways. Thalassinus was the guardian of the Septum, the key piece to rejoin Magnen’s heart.”
“Yes,” Zen said. “Lana found it on the beach.”
“No,” the old man said. “It found her. It chose her to carry it because of her steadfast characteristics.”
“I need to find her,” Zen said. “She means everything to me.”
“Now she means everything to the world,” the man said. “She holds the key to peace and you hold a portion yourself.” The man pointed to Zen’s chest. “That rose beneath your scale is a part of Magnen’s heart. Firth was one of the chosen guardians, much like he was chosen to be your guardian. It was easy to hide it as a family heirloom in wyvern society and with them being more antisocial than social the rose was safe in Bledsoe with you when he went to fight in the war.”
Zen touched his chest where he kept the rose tucked beneath. “I’ve been guarding a piece of the heart without knowing it?”
The man nodded.
“Glad I didn’t lose it,” Zen said with a quick eye roll. “I imagine that would’ve made a problem.”
“Depends on many factors, actually,” the man said.
“You said Firth was one of the chosen guardians. Who are the others and where are they now?” Zen asked.
“Thalassinus was one, as you’re aware,” the man said. “You are another. There are three other pieces, or chambers, to the heart. Their guardians have all fallen in their time and their pieces have become coveted belongings of the Warisai. You alone have been able to keep your piece safe.”
“Maybe you should’ve given all four pieces to Firth, then,” Zen said. “The Warisai would not have gotten them.”
“We couldn’t do that,” the man said. “We couldn’t risk having them all in one place. The heart yields immense magic that can, in the right hands, cause peace to return to Dagan. In the wrong hands, it is immense power that can destroy our world. For even the strongest individual, the temptation to use the heart for selfish reasons would be irresistible. However good someone thinks they are and however strong they believe themselves to be, there are always shortcomings. After prolonged company with the pieces, greed would eventually drive them to try to unify the pieces. Greed is not purity.”
“Lana has a piece and I desire to find her,” Zen said. “Is it because the Septum drives me?”
“You already know the answer to that,” the man said. “You desired to keep her safe long before you knew about all this. Look into your past. Did you desire to keep the rose because the object called you to it or was it because your father gave it to you?”
“It’s all I have to remember him by,” Zen said. “I keep it close to my heart because I miss him.”
“There,” the man said. “You answered your own question. Magnen’s heart has no pull on your direction. Your own heart does.”
Zen smiled and looked down at his feet. He was around the dwarfs and the man but suddenly felt alone like he often did at Bledsoe Keep. Firth lost his life years ago but the pain of losing him was fresh. He missed his adoptive father, the one who raised and loved him as if he was his own. Lana, besides Mailaea, had been the only other being to treat him kindly and love him for who he was.
“Magnen’s heart does have a little bearing on my direction, ultimately,” Zen said. “Lana has a piece of it and I need to rescue her. She needs me to. I only hope it’s not too late.”
“You are a good dragon,” Old Arley said, walking over and petting his shoulder. “You are very good with a strong heart. And that is why we chose to help you. We worked many hours, smelting your bones together. I do not know what else to call it. You are a lot like dwarfs, an earthen race, so you were easy to fix.”
“I’m indebted to you all for the work you’ve done,” Zen replied. “Am I really able to fly now?”
“Yes!” Old Arley exclaimed, “unless you have forgotten how to!” He laughed. “Go to big chamber and take path to top. Up there is a tunnel at the end that we made during the war. It goes to a cliff that opens to sky. You can go out there. Fly gentle. Although your wings and skins are mended, they could still be tender.”
Zen nodded. “I will be cautious, thank you.”
“Off with you, dragon.” Old Arley made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Go taste the skies again.”
Zen didn’t hesitate. He ran out the archway and down a hallway that led only to the House of Healers. It was illuminated by small hives that were home to glowing gnats. The walls and ceiling were covered in stumpy flowering ferns that glowed orange. The hallway adjoined a larger one that was relatively crowded with dwarfs. He looked to the left and saw the cavern continue indefinite
ly. To the right, it was larger and had a large, brighter opening.
He assumed that was the main chamber and walked that direction, following the dwarfs already heading that way. Although the small race could easily fit beneath him, he felt it wasn’t polite to walk over them. Nor did he feel it was polite rush past. He walked at dwarf pace which wasn’t fast enough to match his excitement. He has missed the sensation of flying and now that he was healed, he could find Lana. He had to get airborne.
He entered the main chamber and looked up. The pathway Old Arley told him about was very visual to him and rose steeply from ground level to the ceiling. He wasted no time reaching the foot of it and wasted even less time running up to the top.
Zen ran into the passage, the same passage that his father and many others used during the war. The tunnel curved to the left before opening to a small ledge and the sky beyond. Zen stopped a moment, talons on the edge.
The mountains rose steeply from the valley below and waterfalls cascaded from their heights. The clouds that shrouded their peaks were a multitude of colors from the onset of dusk. Rivers wound their way through the valleys that snaked their way around the smaller ridges below. He closed his eyes and inhaled the icy mountain air. His heart beat wildly with excitement.
He spread his wings wide over his head and let the wind fill them. Exhilaration overtook him. He lunged forward with a strong leap. He left the ground behind him.
Invigoration coursed through his body as he soared upon the wind current. He opened his eyes, hoping he wasn’t dreaming.
He was flying! Oh, how good it felt to him!
He flapped his wings and allowed the evening winds to carry him over the lower peaks that divided valleys throughout the Alvens. Along the southern side of one of the lower peaks he found a spring that he thought would be a good place to quench his thirst. He landed in a thin forest of barren trees and folded his wings, free from any pain or handicap.
He dipped his mouth into the cold water that burbled steadily from the mountainside. He took in large gulps, happy to be washing the lingering taste of the muddy mixture from his mouth. The water was refreshing and needed after a week of nothing to drink while he slept. With a stomach full of water, he took flight again. The downdraft from his wings rustled the boughs of the trees and sent roosting birds into a squabble.
He rode the wind current over a gaping, deep gorge which housed a host of hot springs and a thick carpet of rich, green grass that fed a large herd of elk, some moose, and spotted deer.
At the sight of them, Zen was made aware of how hungry he was and was thankful to have the ability to hunt again. It was then that he remembered Arley and how the other dwarfs had criticized him over his failed ability to hunt. If he could manage multiple kills, which he was confident he would, he’d give the meat to Arley’s family.
He swooped down toward the herd of elk. They bolted in various directions but Zen was faster than they were. His talons closed on the base of their necks, crushing the spinal cords and dispatching them as quickly and painlessly as possible. He never wanted his prey to suffer.
He left the two elks in the grass in order to pursue and kill two more, one of which he devoured.
With a belly full of elk, Zen collected up the other three elks and leapt into the sky.
Sunrest cast her crimson light across the land and illuminated the snowcaps with her likeness. He gained altitude and searched for the ledge that led into the mountain. The clouds had lowered; their ceiling was thick and darkening in the waning sunlight. Zen would’ve missed the ledge entirely had it not been for Arley, a vague silhouette in the sinking clouds.
“Thank you for coming here to wait for me,” Zen said after he landed. “I think I would’ve flown all night trying to find it.”
Arley beamed back at him and nodded. “Supper for you?” he asked. He pointed to the three elks that hung between his spikes by their antlers.
“No, these are for you and your family,” Zen replied.
Arley’s face went slack and he stared at Zen, eyes wide. An awkward silence ensued, broken only by the wind howling through the mountains. Arley took a few steps forward, apprehensively in a dazed sort of way.
Zen began wondering if bringing fresh meat was offensive. Arley wasn’t the best hunter, according to the other dwarfs, and he could take it the wrong way. He wished he would’ve thought of it before he killed the elks as it wasn’t his intention to hurt the dwarf’s feelings or make him feel any less of himself.
“I’m sorry,” Zen said. “I didn’t mean…”
“No! No sorry,” Arley said, waving his arms out to the side and shaking his head. “This very good. I am very happy. You are good.” He crossed his arms and nodded. “My friend.”
Zen smiled in relief. “Climb up. I’ll give you a ride to the bottom.”
Arley’s face lit up with such a hilarious expression that Zen had to stifle a laugh. He held out his hand for Arley to climb on and then lifted him up to his back. Arley seated himself where Lana would’ve sat which made Zen sadden. He missed her terribly and longed to find her. Getting his broken wing repaired was the progress he needed in order to achieve his desire to rescue her.
“Hold on. Once we’re inside, I’m flying to the bottom,” Zen said softly.
“Good!” Arley roared with excitement.
Zen entered the tunnel that led to the mountain’s spacious heart where the massive, glowing hive hung from the ceiling of the mountain fortress. He looked over his shoulder and checked on Arley who was undeniably excited at the prospect of flight. Whether or not he was the first dwarf to fly, Zen didn’t know but was happy to give him the experience.
Once inside, he spread his wings. Arley squirmed eagerly.
“Go. Go!” He excitedly kicked his short legs against Zen’s back, like a rider urging his horse forward over a stream of water.
Zen hopped off the walkway carefully so Arley wouldn’t fall off backwards by him moving too fast. He glided in circles around the cavern with an occasional flap to slow their descent. The spectacle hadn’t gone unnoticed by the dwarfs, many of them watched in awe of the sight. He landed gracefully on a pathway beside the garden.
Arley sprang up and shouted, throwing his fist in the air.
“Solaidva!”
Old Arley and the old man, or Muzh U Kijo, had been seated on one of many benches placed in the garden. They approached them after Zen had landed. When Old Arley saw the elk, his eyes widened and he became overexcited.
“You hunted all of these muko?” he asked. “I am surprised.”
“These are for you and your family,” Zen said. “A thanks for healing me.”
“Blessed! Blessed!” he exclaimed. “You have blessed us, dragon. Beyond words, we are grateful! Thank you! Thank you!” Old Arley hugged Zen’s leg. “Come, please, let us take them to my wife. She is the best at preserving meat.”
He walked with a lofty step into the cavernous passageway that led to the House of Healing and passed the entrance that led to where Zen awoke. He turned down the following tunnel that went to another part of the House of Healing. It led into a pleasant garden brimming with iridescent vegetables, berries and climbing fruits. Luminous butterflies fluttered quietly around the room and from flower to flower.
“Merni,” Old Arley called down a small hall. “This leads straight to the area where we heal our patients. We live close to tend the ailing and injured. It is easy when we rest. We do not have to walk far. If ever one needs us, the letodai tell us."
“Is that a type of healer?” Zen asked.
“No, no,” Old Arley said. “They are there.” He pointed at the ceiling. “The letodai have always been helpers. They wake us if we are needed. They even wake parents if baby is crying. They also give us fertilizer for plants.” He gestured to the garden. “You see it works.”
Zen kept his eyes on the ceiling, trying to see what he was pointing at. It was blanketed with glowing plants but he couldn’t see anything else. Flowers, bu
tterflies, other glowing insects, and…
Something larger moved among the foliage. Long blue wings stretched out, lit up along the edges and then were folded in. The little creature shook itself and yawned before settling against something that looked like a glowing, flowering cabbage that grew on the ceiling. Its body glowed dully and pulsed a little brighter with each inhalation. Zen finally noticed that there were dozens of places along the ceiling doing the same.
“Bats?” Zen asked. “They look like bats but they light up like everything else down here.”
“Yes,” Old Arley said, nodding. “I forgot the word for them. It is easy, the word, but they are always letodai to me.”
“They seem smarter than the usual bats that I’ve seen,” Zen replied. “They’re fascinating.”
“Do you like them?” Old Arley asked.
“Yes, I wish all bats were like the letodai,” Zen said.
The letodai chattered happily and settled again.
Zen laughed a little. “I think they liked that.”
Old Arley nodded. “They enjoy compliments. That was a big one. Other bats are not like them at all. Letodai are smarter. Letodai are important for underground. Letodai eat dying insects and plants. Letodai keep rodents away and eat bones of hunt animals.” He pointed to the elks. “We love the letodai.”
Merni exited the hall and saw the elks. She squealed and clasped her hands to her mouth, mumbling something into them in lenolden.
Zen placed the elk on the ground and she didn’t need to be told. She thanked him profusely and grabbed two elks by the antlers. She dragged them to the far end of the cave and through its arched entryway. Dwarfs, even the females, were undeniably strong for their size. Arley helped Merni by taking the last elk. He talked quickly to her in lenolden. Zen caught his named a few times, mixed into a plethora of words he didn’t know. He did recognize “solaidva” which Arley had proudly exclaimed after they landed. This word had brought a great deal of joy to Aunt Merni. Old Arley followed them with excitement in his stride.
“What does that mean?” Zen asked. “Sola-id-va?” He pronounced it slowly.
