by LJ Davies
"No time to explain," he continued, before rushing off to issue commands.
The pale creature already had Boltock strapped to her back, and one by one they began to take off, rising quickly on an updraft. Ember followed, leaving only Risha and I sitting in the snow-covered grass.
"We have to go," I suggested, softly nudging her with my wing. "He needs you."
She gave me one last glance before rushing past and up into the air. I sat in stunned silence for a moment, looking down at the battlefield.
What did I do here? Surely, I didn't actually breathe fire or use magic like they do?
Snapping myself from my trance I caught the next updraft. Flapping my wings hard, I launched myself to join the others, while the clearing, the death and smouldering bodies gradually disappeared behind us.
*
The forest that had seemed endless yesterday, surrendered to a much greater set of natural monuments. The mountains rose from the trees' grip like a mighty fortress, sheer faces dotted with ridges and outcrops that offered no place for vegetation to grow. Our altitude gradually increased, the air growing thinner as I focused all my attention on flying. Looking ahead, I could see we needed to gain more height as the mountains stretched their snow-covered peaks higher into the sky, like knives cutting through the clouds.
The armoured among the group of six creatures led the way and it was clear that my friends had mixed feelings about our new allies.
Featherwings, that’s what Ember called them? I recalled, glancing at my own wing and the obvious differences.
My friends obviously know more about them than I do, so I'll leave my opinion to their judgment.
Swooping up beside the mountain slopes the air grew colder as our airspace gradually narrowed between steep cliffs. The rising slopes dictated our path into an enormous valley overlooked by two towering peaks. Pine trees climbed the rocky inclines, reaching up from a shimmering river snaking its way along the valley floor, abandoning their advance halfway up the slope to the barren, snow-covered rocks reaching down from the freezing summits.
The air grew more hostile, made all the worse by a strong wind funnelled between the mountains. As much as I disliked it, I was thankful for how the chill numbed the pain in my leg.
My greatest concern now, was Boltock. From what I'd seen of his injuries, he was in a bad way, and I couldn't help blame myself for it. I'd failed to explain the risks, I should have just told them all sooner and maybe they would have decided to go home.
Despite my lack of trust for these featherwings, I had a faint glimmer of hope that they might be able to help. The way the white-feathered creature had spoken encouraged my desire to trust them, though the words of her leader filled me with less optimism.
'So, you're the one’, the statement flashed through my mind, combined with how he'd looked at me.
Maybe it's worth giving them a chance, just to hear what they have to say?
I'd wanted the same thing from the dragons. I'd been willing to wait while Tarwin was out there, only to be disappointed by what they told me. The thought of more delay made me shudder, but I had to try and find the truth.
I need to know what I felt when I killed that beast. I thought, looking at one of my forepaws.
Rounding a ridge moments later, a blinding light burst out from the edge of the rock face, forcing my eyes shut. I flew blind for a moment as they adjusted to the brightness, eventually opening to see the rising sun projecting an explosion of light over the horizon at the far end of the valley. Another river meandered below, steep mountain slopes reaching high on either side. An immense column of rock extended up from the cliff face to my left, casting a shadow across the land like a great talon clawing for the sky. It looked out of place, and for a moment I thought it was an illusion brought on by blood loss or exposure.
Sitting on top of the pillar was some sort of wooden structure, unlike anything I'd ever seen. At its perimeter it adopted the same shape as the top of the pillar upon which it sat. It had four openings placed symmetrically around the cylindrical walls and a circular roof covered by a central tower. Four smaller towers, similar in design, extended up from the top of the lower structure, rising until they reached the height of the central mass.
Our small group uniformly corrected course towards what looked like some kind of bridge held up by several pieces of rope hanging down from the main building. It connected smaller wooden structures to a vast sprawl of buildings adorning the face of the steep mountainside. The rest of the city appeared to boast the same rounded design, clinging defiantly to the sheer rock like nesting seabirds.
As we closed in, several featherwings broke off and headed towards the city. Meanwhile, I continued with the others, following the lead-creature along with the one carrying Boltock. We headed towards the central tower of the pillar-top keep. Passing close to the city I glanced over the sprawling expanse, noting how it resembled the dragon city, the main differences being the wooden construction and the criss-crossing bridges tying it all together.
Just like back in Dardien, I was awestruck by the majesty of their architecture. It was more like that which I knew, constructed by hard work and toil rather than elemental magic. I knew Tarwin would certainly respect the craftsmanship here.
Can they tell me where I come from? Do they know anything else about our attackers or these 'troubled times' the Elders spoke of?
I found myself listing more questions as my newfound respect for the featherwings grew. Yet despite my personal desires, my immediate priority was Boltock.
Risha needs him way more than I need answers. I reminded myself.
The heavy clatter of metal-clad talons marked the lead-creature’s landing as he came to settle on a rounded wooden platform extending out from the tower. The white featherwing landed more carefully, Risha’s eyes following her every move. Ember and I remained in the air as two more of them flew past, gently flapping their wings until they reached the platform. Ember was next and I followed close behind, crashing with a dull thud as the sudden force sent a spike of twisting pain up my leg.
"Are you okay?" the fire dragoness called, running over to support me.
"Fine," I muttered, trying my best not to yelp.
"You don't look fine," she declared sternly, quickly putting her wing beneath mine, lifting me to my paws.
"Get them both to the healing chamber," the lead-creature ordered with a glance to his companion, before withdrawing into the keep.
"Follow me," she calmly instructed as she made her way into the tower.
Risha needed no encouragement, she was stuck to her brother’s nurse like glue. I looked over at Ember and tried to take a step.
"You're not going to be able to walk on your own, so don't even try," she declared, holding and leading me forward.
Guess she is the one with the most training. Which puts me in the best paws.
On either side of the circular platform lay two staircases leading down into the bowels of the structure, the tempting warmth of a flickering glow rising from within. The white creature proceeded down one of them, while the other featherwings used the opposite.
Moving on, I found the internal walls of the keep were smooth and shiny, unlike the hard, weather-worn exterior. Steps ran around the circumference of the rounded chamber; their design couldn't have been worse for me. Each was formed from an individual log extending out from the wall just within a young dragon’s leg reach of the next.
I took a deep breath; the pain of every step more excruciating than the last. Even so, the invitation of a warm orange glow originating from a stone brazier at the base of the staircase encouraged my progress.
I'd rather be wounded and warm, than dying out in the cold.
I could feel myself slipping away into a creeping unconsciousness. If it hadn’t been for Ember, I'd have certainly collapsed by the time we reached the bottom of the tower.
The floor appeared to be made of a smooth wood, the growth rings of the original tree still vi
sible in the flickering light. While the branches had been replaced by torch fastenings. Either side of us passageways led off in opposite directions. Our carer quickly moved to the left, and as Ember and I followed, a sudden burst of cold stole what warmth I'd accumulated. Save for a wooden rail and several supporting columns, the passageway was exposed to the cold, mountainous skies.
Torches set into the wall danced in the wind, spreading their glow across the corridor. At first glance the wood around them appeared barren, though squinting through my limited vision I found it was anything but. A vast array of murals covered the surface, each one telling a story, just like the walls back in the Elders' temple.
Most of the depictions were beyond my understanding, I vaguely recognised some images portraying similar beasts to the featherwings. The first showed them weary and beaten, crossing what looked like flaming rivers surrounded by forests and mountains of fire. Peering down like a tyrant was a strange creature of jagged stone and coiling tentacles, its many eyes glowing bright red. The whole scene was straddled by a strange collection of magnificent golden buildings. Each a unique combination of tall shapes sitting on top of clouds suspended by sunbeams.
More of the feathered beasts descended from the celestial city, bringing golden talons to bear upon the stone monster looming over their battered brethren. Further along, the heavenly sky faded, and the world depicted below the clouds showed feathered beasts flying over natural mountains, until a sequence of paintings illustrated the unmistakable image of the wooden keep in which we now stood. Sitting on top of its rocky pedestal, lit from behind by a vast red sun like a king upon a towering throne.
The pictures went on to depict the story of the Guardian War; however, unlike those in the draconic temple, there were fewer dragons. One lone featherwing with a coat as dark as charcoal sat defiantly on top of a solitary mountain, skulls littering the steep sides as crimson fire coated his talons.
Their guardian? I presumed, making the connection between the mural and the Elders story.
Then I recalled something else the aged dragons had said: The dragons had allies back then.
As far as I could gather these creatures were among the nine races of which they'd spoken: ‘Nine guardians, one from each race'. Not only that, but from these murals it was clear there were more races in the world, more than nine, at least.
I glanced at the creature ahead of us. Her kind fought alongside dragons centuries ago. The alliance must have dissolved like the Elders said.
"Ember?" I whispered, struggling more than I was expecting.
"Yeah?" she replied, with a look of concern.
"What are these things?" I gestured to the creature disappearing into another opening.
"They're called griffins. Aside from trade, they usually stick to North Rim, so we seldom see them. This must be Storm Peak, the city of the Northern Sun they used to tell us about as hatchlings," she answered, glancing around to study the place.
Her attitude towards them was comforting, and I quickly turned my attention back to the wall, observing what remained of the painting before it ended. Repetitive images depicting more battles, all of which must have taken place during the war the Elders referred to, or in the many troubled decades since. One image, at the far end of the wall, stood out. It was a battle like all the others, yet it was what sat above it that caught my attention. Initially it appeared out of place, but while I scoured the painting, I felt a strange sensation, it was almost as though I should recognise it.
It took me a short while to recall as my mind was slowly taken back to the seal on the temple’s golden door. The same mural of four armoured dragons sat around a sphere was depicted on the griffin wall. Unlike the image in Dardien, two four-pointed stars sat in the centre of the smoke-laden sky above them. One was a combination of warm colours, its bright-white centre slowly fading to orange and finally red at the tip of each point. The other star was more sinister, a black core barely distinguishable, slowly fading into a twilight purple, with the lightest colours at its very edge.
Another gust of wind swept through the corridor, sending the torch-fire into frantic quivers. The abrupt rush of cold against my scales broke me from my trance as we retreated down into the loving warmth after the griffiness. The welcome relief was shattered by the sight of more wooden stairs, and even with Ember’s help they inevitably brought out the worst of my injury.
My closed eyes weren’t enough to defend against each pulse of burning pain. I gritted my teeth, trying to block out the agony, until at last my paws touched solid stone. Ember stopped beside me, and I opened my eyes, trying to focus on the new surroundings in an effort to distract myself from the pain and foul knots in my stomach. We were in a new chamber, rock replacing the wooden walls, suggesting we were inside the stone pillar that Storm Peak's keep sat upon.
The warm glow from another brazier lapped the smooth walls and the scent of herbs reminded me of summer back home. Three rectangular rocks sat against the far wall, all of which were about my height and covered by a fine layer of moss. Across from the beds, positioned around the brazier, was a circular stone table. It was much lower, standing at the height of my chest and was covered in sets of bowls, glass jars and metal utensils. I turned to Risha, who had followed the griffiness over to one of the beds, the featherwing using her beak to uncouple the leather straps of her precious cargo. Each belt slowly slid down her back as she carefully stretched out her wing and tilted her body, allowing Boltock to gently slide onto the soft moss.
Risha’s attention was instantly set on him, while, unencumbered by the dragon on her back, the griffiness moved briskly over to the table, where she started to rummage before emerging with a glass bottle filled with a strange liquid. Along with a white cloth, she returned to her patient, instantly putting her new equipment to use.
I watched Risha lower her head to her brother’s limp body, the sadness clear to see in the shimmering tears forming at the rims of her eyes. Through the veil of water, she quietly whispered something to him. I looked away, shivering like a child as my next haggard breath escaped as no more than a whimper.
Ember appeared to control her empathy far better than I did. I felt her nudge my side, forcing me back up straight, looking right at me while I tried to avoid her gaze.
"We should probably get you onto one of those beds," she proposed, waving her free wing over to one of the empty stone rectangles.
I nodded and with her help slowly stumbled over. Realising I hadn’t thought about how I'd climb up, the simple jump now looked far more daunting. I glanced down at the ruptured scales and flesh of my mangled leg – darkening brown covering pure white.
Ember looked at it like she'd seen things of its like before and with more of her assistance I lifted myself up onto the mossy sheet, leaving my injured leg hanging limply over the side. Ember cocked her head as she inspected it with an unsure grumble, before gently nudging it onto the moss.
"Thanks," I muttered, holding off a wince as she withdrew her snout from my wounded limb.
"Don't mention it." She continued to look at me, clearly expecting something else, but my face just became a mask of confusion.
"Do you want me to stay here?" she asked, a perplexed look on her face.
My eyes widened as her offer only served to make my guilt surge harder.
"N–no, no. It's… okay, I'll be fine," I mumbled, putting on my best tough face.
Her look turned sympathetic. "You’re sure? You don't have to sit here alone."
I gave a weak nod, gesturing over to the others. "That's where you should be, they need you more."
She paused for a moment, taking one final look at my leg. "Okay, call me if you need anything." I nodded as she moved toward the siblings.
I sighed, the weary exertion swiftly becoming a cough. I gained this wound trying to get to her, but I failed. Boltock is the one who really saved her, not me.
I closed my eyes and in the darkness my guilt grew stronger, feeding like a leech on the
continually taunting thoughts spinning around my mind.
My entire existence was a quandary, if only I'd listened to all those warnings. If only I'd known the truth, we would all be safe. I placed a trembling paw over my sealed eyes, wishing I could rip the thoughts from my mind. This was a new kind of pain, more unpleasant than reality, and all I wished was that it would just disappear.
*
I found myself in darkness. Heavy rain fell from the starless sky and a cold wind chilled the air. The water-soaked ground created a lake of thick mud, crossed by torrents of gushing, crimson-stained ichors. A bright flash of lightning briefly revealed storm clouds, swiftly followed by a loud roar of thunder. Glancing around, I found nothing familiar about the place. I trudged forward, fighting the muddy clamp around my paws as one of my hind legs slipped deeper. Lightning lanced across the sky, and I stopped.
Through the slanted rain I could see a dark, wet shape coated in mud sinking down into the bloody torrent. It shifted and I tried to pull back, but the mire secured my movements. Sagging like melted wax it loomed up in front of me, a dreadful grinding sound produced by each of its rotten, muddy limbs as it turned to reveal eyes and mouth alight with a sinister green flame.
"See what you've done!" A distant voice echoed through the storm.
I tried to shout out, to scream, to do anything, but it was futile. I felt like a stranger in my own scales, my body alien and horrifyingly distant.
"How many more will die?"
The dark entity spoke again as it slumped forward. I thrashed around, frantically trying to release the mud’s grip on my legs, but it was as if the squalor was fusing to my scales.
"You're no better than them: you kill, only to go on killing!"
I flapped my wings, trying harder to pull myself away. The ground began to shift around me, while bubbles escaped from beneath the crimson river, chunks of dirt forcing themselves up into the storm only to melt away in the deluge.
"You will never be like them; you will kill them." The voice continued as the rotten corpses of humans and dragons erupted from beneath the earth.
