by B C Penling
A sadistic grin spread across his face and his eyes glossed over with a greedy, sinister stare. The Warisai were finally his to lead and nobody, not even Dooley, was going to stop him.
CHAPTER 27
THUNDERCLAPS
The tailwind had pushed them along steadily into the night. They made decent progress until the weather made a turn for the worse and Zen was forced to land or else risk his passengers having a wind assisted, unscheduled dismount. Zen felt he could've handled the flight through the wind if he had been alone. He'd flown in similar weather before.
He shivered. Only once did storm-flying not turn out well. His run-in with the animikiigai was nothing short of shocking. Since the thunder was booming overhead and the lightning was aggressively brightening the darkness of the storm, Zen knew that they were up there busying themselves with a ceremonial dance. Zen learned not to interrupt such ceremonies since he ignorantly stumbled into one while chasing lightning.
It had been a very bad idea but thankfully, for his sake, they allowed him to leave their domain after numerous jolts of lightning to punish him.
“Busy storm,” Kijo said.
“Yes,” Zen said. “The animikiigai are enthusiastic tonight.”
“You know about them,” Kijo said. “That’s good.”
“Eh,” Zen said with a shrug.
“Oh,” Kijo cooed. “You met them personally, did you?”
Zen looked at him sideways.
Kijo chuckled. “You’re lucky they let you live. Why’d you fly up there anyways?”
“Younger and stupid,” Zen replied. “I wanted to chase lightning. It was soon after my father died.”
“I understand,” Kijo said. “It’s not something you’d do again?”
“No!” Zen exclaimed. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”
“You should go up there and ask for their help.”
“No!” Zen yelled. “Are you implying you want me dead?”
Muzh U Kijo chuckled. “No, but I think they’d come in handy in our fight against the Warisai.”
“If you’re so confident, why don’t you try to get their attention?” Zen asked.
“You can get closer, obviously.”
“Well, I’m not going up there,” Zen replied. “I’m actually relieved we landed when we did. They could’ve caught up to us while flying and that would’ve been disastrous.”
“Not with me around,” the old man commented.
“What? Are you friends with them, too?”
“You could say something like that.” The old man’s face lit up from the lightning that streaked through the narrow canyon.
“You probably don’t even know what they look like,” Zen said.
“I do, actually,” he said, then asked. “Do you?”
Zen looked at him. “Yes, but I can’t say. They told me not to tell. I can say that lighting dances upon their wings and their wing beats are thunder. Their eyes are like lightning, like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
The storm overhead became erratic and lightning activity increased violently. Thunder reverberated and shook the foundations of the steep mountains and loosening rocks that tumbled and clattered down to join the scree pile. Zen cringed. Perhaps he had said too much.
“Mekashast!” Arley exclaimed loudly from beneath a tree. He was huddled beside the trunk, soaking wet from the rainy flight. In his hands he held a bottle of bailey, the specialty drink the dwarfs made. The bailey provided a soft red light since it was made from the juices of a few different glowing plants. The light shown on Arley’s drenched face. His beard had gone flat along with his bushy eyebrows. The whites of his eyes made him look like a frightened house cat that was cornered by a pack of dogs.
“I think we should tend our friend. He’s been sheltered under the mountain for most of his life, can’t forget,” the old man said. “I’ll collect up some firewood if you can light it.”
It had never occurred to Zen that this was Arley’s first animikiigai storm or perhaps his first storm in general. There he sat, alone beneath the tree, quietly terrified until his single outburst drew him to their attention. He felt bad for the dwarf. First night away from home and he was soaked. A campfire would likely help.
“I’m down here,” the old man yelled into the heavens. “Please watch where your lightning streaks!”
Zen rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What if they’re looking for someone to hit?”
“We all know you’re the bigger target!” Kijo yelled over his shoulder.
The thunder quieted and the lightning settled.
“See?”
“That’s a coincidence!” Zen snapped.
“No, they know me.”
The old man gathered branches and twigs and placed them near Zen and Arley beneath the large oak tree. Acorns and leaves littered the ground, having been knocked from their branches above. The man then collected three additional armfuls along the border of the forest and erected a cone of wood which Zen lit with a burst of orange fire. The wood hissed loudly as the water evaporated from the bark and soon began to warm the terrified Arley.
“You can continue!” Kijo yelled at the clouds.
A long chorus of rolling thunder answered him and the lightning crowned the storm clouds. Muzh U Kijo looked at Zen with a peculiar stare.
“Yes, I know, they’re your friends,” Zen said mockingly. “If it was me, they probably would’ve cooked my hide.”
“Again,” the old man added with a laugh.
Zen looked away and up at the sky. The black clouds snaked and pulsed with lightning, an impressive sight best watched from a distance and not experienced up close. Then, he saw a large silhouette.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” Zen said. “This doesn’t look good.” He backed further beneath the tree and closer to Arley.
“What? You didn’t expect them to stay up there after learning I’m here, did you?”
“Honestly, I doubted your sanity again,” Zen murmured.
“I’m sure it won’t be the last,” the old man said.
Zen laughed.
“Often times, the simpletons don’t understand the knowledgeable,” he added with a sideways glance.
Zen furrowed his brow and scrunched his face. He was far from simple but felt that debate could wait until later. What was coming toward him was his primary concern at that moment.
An animikii dove from the sky and moments before it impacted the ground, it spread its wings and flapped twice. Thunder cracked from its wing beats. The force of the downwash tore grass from the sodden soil and knocked dead branches from nearby trees. When its feet touched the ground there was a loud snap as energy transferred from its talons to the earth.
Lightning radiantly dance along the edge of every silvery feather. Its eyes flashed from a terrified Arley, to the apprehensive Zen, and then settled on the old man, softening at once.
“Strange company you keep, Napi.” The voice was surprisingly sweet and feminine, contrary to Zen’s prior encounter.
“Just a few wanderers I’ve picked up along the way. They might look like nothing, but they have potential to change things for us,” the old man replied.
The animikii laughed sweetly. “Well, the dragon I know.”
Zen cringed and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that, by the way.”
Lightning flashed in the animikii’s amused eyes. “Still apologetic, Zen? Perhaps our lesson did sink in through that thick and reckless skull of yours.”
“It absorbs more than it looks like it can,” the old man said.
“So, the little one is?” the animikii asked.
“That’s Arley Wishwil, nephew to Old Arley Wishwil.”
The animikii’s feathers ruffled and the lightning upon them livened. Her eyes flickered and fixed on the dwarf. Arley scoot closer to Zen and eyed the great bird with wary eyes. Zen moved closer to Arley, instinctually wanting to protect him despite the pain he experienced last time he met the animikiigai. He gave the animi
kii a stern look.
The animikii straightened her stance. “Arley Wishwil, it’s an honor.” She lowered her head in a respectful bow. “I am Angpeitu. Your uncle saved me during the Fae War. I am indebted to his bloodline.”
Arley’s face lit up and he sprang to his feet. “I know! I know!” He clasped his hands to together and returned the bow. “Pleasure,” he said, firmly.
“It is good you have a Wishwil with you,” Angpeitu said, looking fondly at the dwarf. “He will bring you good luck.”
“Yes,” the old man said. “I thought he’d be a good addition.”
“And what of the others?” she asked.
“They’ll be joining us soon,” the old man said. “I sent Amara to warn the ones in the north of what was coming their way. She’ll then be along to direct the others down south. I think our timing will be ideal. The most important one is here.” He thumbed over his shoulder.
“Him? The dragon?” Angpeitu said, with a sweet, amused chuckle.
“I know he doesn’t look like much,” the old man said. “In fact, he’s quite moronic at times.”
“I’m aware,” Angpeitu said.
“You know I’m right here,” Zen said. “I can hear you talking about me.”
“But, truth of the matter is,” the old man said. “We can’t do this without him. He’s more important than he looks.”
“Oh?” Angpeitu inquired, as if her assumption was about to come to fruition.
“He’s the son of Magnen,” the old man replied. “You already believed that, though, didn’t you?”
“That’s why we didn’t kill him,” she replied with a smile. “He smells different than all the others. He smells like Magnen.”
“Every dragon is the son of Magnen,” Zen said.
“You are the son of Magnen,” Angpeitu said. “You are his son.”
Zen looked at the animikii and then the old man.
“Maybe he’s thicker than I thought,” the old man said.
“Quite. Living with the wyverns, do you expect anything else?” Angpeitu replied with a repugnant tone. She turned to Zen, took a couple steps closer and stood tall.
Zen’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel the electric energy radiating from her body. He shivered, remembering how much the animikiigai can hurt.
“Zen,” the old man said. “You are Magnen’s son, through blood, not from the earth as it’s said. Your mother Lavenda was his mate and she was the one who left you with Firth. You are his only direct descendent and removing you from Genetricis was the only way to ensure your survival.”
Zen didn’t quite know how to reply to him. As crazy as he seemed sometimes, the old man did know a lot and he sounded more serious now than he ever had. Perhaps he was telling the truth about his past.
“Zenith of Magnen,” Angpeitu said. “We animikiigai are forever at your service.” She drew up to full height, closed her radiant eyes, and bowed lowly.
“This is impossible,” Zen said. “Last time we met, you almost killed me. Now you’re pledging your loyalty upon his word.”
Angpeitu drew herself up. “I know it to be true,” she replied. “We were there when your mother brought you in your egg from across the sea. We were there to stop her pursuers, striking them from the skies. She fled to Twin Peaks, where she hatched you under our protection on the mountain's highest point. After you hatched she gave you to Firth on Napi’s recommendation.” She motioned to the old man. “The day she handed you over to him, we sheltered you all from the eyes of possible enemies, tearing the skies asunder so no one, not even Bledsoe himself, knew where you came from. That is also how you got your name.”
Zen stared at her in disbelief.
“Zenith Zephyr,” she said. “Zephyr, named for the soft wind around you, while a few feet away our storm raged on.”
“I had no clue,” he replied.
“All the fables surrounding your hatching were told to protect you, just like your mother wanted,” Angpeitu said.
“My mother,” Zen said softly. “All my life I was content with my father Firth, he raised me well. Now, supposedly, both my birth father and my adoptive father are dead. Here I am left wondering what happened to my mother. I’m assuming she’s dead, too. I have no one except Lana and I don’t even know if she’s…” He trailed off, quite suddenly aware of how alone he felt.
Angpeitu looked at the old man, whom the animikiigai called Napi and the dwarfs called Muzh U Kijo, and then looked softly to Zen. “I understand your feelings,” she said. “She fought in the Fae War and afterwards she all but vanished so not to draw attention to dragons on Ancienta.”
Zen looked away with a sour face. Before he met Lana, he felt content to be by himself but ever since he met her, he has enjoyed her company. He had Arley, Kijo and Angpeitu in his presence but he felt as if nobody was around him for miles and miles and the world had turned into a cold, barren wasteland.
“Magnen’s son,” Zen said after a stint of silence. “I’m reluctant to claim that heritage. I’m not much of anything.”
“To Lana you are everything,” the old man said kindly.
Zen looked at the old man.
“She loves you without knowing the truth,” he said.
“What truth? That I’m supposedly the offspring of Magnen?” Zen said sourly.
“That you’re the Prince of Dagan,” Angpeitu said. “And the fate of the world hinges on you.”
Her words struck a chord deep in Zen’s soul.
Prince.
Of.
Dagan.
“You know where to find us, Napi,” Angpeitu said. “If you need us, call us and we will come. Arley. Prince.” She nodded to them individually before lowering her head toward the old man. She tucked her beak almost to her chest and touched his forehead with hers. She stepped back a number of paces and spread her wings. Lightning crackled across her body. She gave a loud cry, like a scream of thunder. Bolts of lightning struck her wingtips and she ascended to the clouds in a bright flash of light. There was a chorus of thunder and the lightning amplified as she rejoined her fellow animikiigai.
Zen watched the clouds for a few minutes. The darkness was swallowed by tendrils of lightning as they coursed along the bulbous cloudscape.
“For the record, don’t call me prince,” Zen said. “Prince Zen sounds awful.”
The old man laughed.
Arley looked up at the dragon and gently patted his flank. “Prince.”
CHAPTER 28
MONSTROCITY
The rain poured down in buckets far into the night and was alit with fierce lightning. Only when it was nearly daybreak had it begun to let up. The water had created a large flow of sediment-heavy water that ran along the base of the cliff. Zen watched the dark river which carried along with it shrubs and tree limbs. It hadn’t flowed their way thanks to a knoll that Zen suspected was courtesy of former flashfloods. If the water undermined the mound of earth and broke the barrier, it would certainly spill their way. If, or when, that happened, he would have to grab the old man and Arley before the flood did.
He kept a watchful eye on the situation while Arley snored loudly beneath his wing. Kijo, Zen assumed, was either a quiet sleeper or he was still struggling to get to sleep. Lightning slithered across the sky, weaving in and out of the cloudscape. A bolt jumped from the clouds and struck the cliff beyond the raging waters. It caused a small rock fall which was quickly swallowed by the muddy river below.
It was around midmorning when the clouds stopped their wet assault and continued spreading sunwake, leaving the land sodden and desperate to relinquish water through the fastest, easiest route. Zen was anxious to get airborne before the next wave of the storm released its onslaught; and looking toward the obscured Alvens, he felt it would happen sooner instead of later.
“Sounds like the rain stopped, finally,” the old man said, coming out from beneath Zen’s wing.
“Sleep well?” Zen asked.
“Not with that rumpus,” he
replied.
“The storm was pretty loud.”
“No, the dwarf,” Kijo said. “He drowned the noise of the storm.”
Zen chuckled. “At least we know someone got some rest.”
“How about you?”
“None. I’ll sleep when it’s less rainy and where there’s no threat from rushing waters.” He motioned with his snout toward the stream.
“I appreciate you keeping watch on that.” The old man stretched and examined the sky. “It’s about time we should be leaving. We don’t want to waste a moment with those clouds coming in. They’ll keep us grounded and we’ll waste time.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Zen replied. “I need to find Lana.”
“I know it feels like we’re slowing things for you,” the old man said quickly. “You have enough time to get to Genetricis and save Lana.”
“Everything else is telling me the opposite.”
“If I’m wrong, you can eat me.”
“And you better not fight back," Zen said pointedly.
The old man laughed heartily and patted Zen on the snout. “Wake up the dwarf, friend.”
“I’ll admit, you’re starting to grow on me,” Zen grumbled.
“I know,” Kijo replied. “You didn’t snarl when I called you friend.”
Zen smirked then lifted his wing, creating a draft that caused Arley to stir. He grumbled, pulled his blanket closer around him and rolled into Zen’s side. He had slept on Zen’s foot all night. Despite his undersized stature, he was quite the sturdy little dwarf and weighed as much as a small boulder. Zen nudged him with his snout.
“Time to wake, Arley,” Zen said.
"Yes!" Arley was on his feet in a snap with eyes wide and hair askew.
He adjusted his clothing and walked to the dying campfire that Zen had kept burning most of the night. He placed kindling on the embers and blew on it. Thick white smoke swirled around until the wood became hot enough to produce a flame.
Zen stood up. His belly was muddy and what wasn’t protected by his wings was wet from rain. He stretched his entire body, paying particular attention to his gorgeous wings which he appreciated even more since the dwarfs repaired them. He shook, freeing the excess water from his scales. Droplets landed in the campfire, making the fire hiss and then battle extinguishment.
