by LJ Davies
With that in mind, I tentatively walked over to greet him.
"I'm glad you're okay too."
He paused for a moment, his silence striking my heart like a knife as I froze mid-step.
"Thanks for keeping her safe," he responded in the most grateful tone I'd ever heard him muster.
Is this the same dragon? Is that it? After being trapped in the jaws of a monster, he's thankful?
It took me a moment to understand to whom he was referring; obviously Risha. Still, I wasn't expecting him to be so considerate; maybe I'd misjudged him, all of them for that matter. None of them seemed to blame me for anything, I was the only one blaming myself. It was a hard trap to escape, but thankfully the truth was that no one was dead because of my stupid actions.
Boltock gave an awkward nod, before leaving me alone on the balcony. The starlit sky beamed brighter than ever, yet how I now felt about Risha gave me more comfort than the stars ever had. I slowly brushed past the curtain into the chamber’s warmth, climbing straight into my bed. This time my eyes didn’t wander to the others, I simply settled down, my vision blurred and my mind surrendered itself as I drifted peacefully into sleep.
*
Sounds became indistinguishable over the next few hours, voices crept in amidst the incongruous noises of my dream world. It was difficult to work out what was real and what was a dreamt-up product of my wild imagination. But they were real voices, real enough to stimulate a waking response. My eyes cracked open and I peered out over the side of my bed, scanning the chamber for the source whilst keeping my head embedded in the hay.
Boltock and Ember were awake, standing out on the balcony, their moonlit shadows giving away their position. I thought it wrong to eavesdrop, nonetheless I inevitably overheard their conversation.
"Thanks for saving me from that thing," Ember whispered.
Boltock delayed his response for a few moments before answering.
"Ember? You're my best friend… But, but... you and Pyro," he replied, appearing to struggle with the words.
"…H–he's... my other friend," she admitted shyly. "You should get to know him better," she continued with a slight chuckle. "He's in the Fire Order, it's not like he's going to do anything to hurt you."
I immediately thought her words strange, even somewhat dismissive, but it wasn't my place to judge. Although to my surprise the pair immediately dismissed my assumption as they laughed together.
"I know, I know," Boltock replied, sounding slightly disappointed.
"Well, I'm going to nest, and you should too after what you've been through," she added, receiving no reply.
"Goodnight," was her last word as she retired to the chamber. I tightened my eyelids as she slipped over to her nest and settled down.
Boltock entered soon after, clambering into his own. Satisfied they were both safe, I attempted to return to my slumber, though the late interruption had ignited my curiosity. It wasn't my place to judge them, but I didn't quite get it.
Those two, or at least Boltock, why do they act so strangely around each other? Plus, what does Pyro have to do with it?
The red dragon from the city had completely escaped my thoughts. I wasn't sure what life in Dardien had been like for the others before I arrived, and only having been there for a short time, I didn't know much about relationships between my own species. I’d compared them to what I knew, but there was an unavoidable difference between dragons and humans.
The moment of contemplation about something other than our journey settled my mind and I curled up, slowly drifting back to sleep.
*
My eyes flickered open, bright light bringing me closer to consciousness until they opened wide. Despite the sunlight streaming in from the balcony, the chamber was still dark. The braziers had burnt out, leaving nothing more than sizzling black piles. I slipped out of my nest, trying to be quiet while the others remained curled under their wings. Shaking the sleep from my weary muscles, the painless action drew my gaze to my healed limb.
Urgh, it still feels so weird. I thought as the restored muscles twitched.
Although yesterday had been one of the most difficult days I'd endured, my night turned out to be more comfortable: no guard duty, no beasts in the forest and especially no strange dreams.
The rest had ensured that my body was back at full fitness, my eyes absorbed the calm atmosphere as they panned across the room. From the curtain dancing in the light breeze to Boltock's particularly loud snoring.
Looks like I'm starting to make a habit out of being the first one to wake up.
My eyes continued to wander, following the curved wall until they fell upon a painting, similar to the kind I'd tried to avoid in the corridors. In last night’s low light, I'd failed to notice it opposite the balcony, only this time I didn’t attempt to shield my gaze.
What's the point? I've already seen it anyway.
It wasn't drawn in the same style as the others, and its message was different. There was no depiction of war or death, its black background was dotted with pale-white spots, each representing a star with four equidistant points around their circular bodies. In one corner sat the moon, although the most eye-catching feature lay at its centre, a golden mountain with steep sides partially covered in snow, with four dragons hovering above its peak.
I stepped back in disbelief. Those dragons, they’re white.
I stretched my wing into view, double-checking as a flood of mixed emotions filled my mind. Like a hurricane, my thoughts frantically spun through a plethora of possibilities, the most obvious one being that I wasn't alone, or at least I wasn't the only one to have ever existed.
No, this only proves someone thought to paint white dragons, it's not absolute confirmation. My mind sneered.
Proof or not, it didn't give me any answers; in fact, it raised more questions.
Scouring the coloured surface my interest eventually fell on a new portion of the painting. Floating in the centre of the dragons, directly above the golden summit, was a sphere, almost invisible against the background. I'd seen it before – it was the image cast into the metal door in the Elders’ temple. Granted, back then I had no way of making out the colour, and the dragons depicted in that version wore armour, but it was the same, nonetheless.
Why would griffins depict white dragons when the dragons themselves seemed to have no idea?
As for the sphere, I already knew its name, the Sphere of Eternity, the painting depicting it how the griffins described – a black sun awaiting its dreadful dawn.
Not just that, but the featherwings seem so proud of themselves. Why not show the dragons as white griffins?
I looked closer, trying to inspect the circular shape. It was the only fixed reference in this mystery, occurring repeatedly like a haunting ghost. Upon closer inspection, I saw something that wasn't visible on the draconic depiction; in fact, it was almost unnoticeable right now. Sitting above the sphere were several purple lines, curved and swirling like smoke. My eyes gradually followed them as they merged to create a flowing shape, almost like the body of a serpent.
My gaze settled upon its head with eyes set above a vicious jaw and an aggressive array of spines along its skull. I found myself peering directly into the painted eyes of the shadowy serpent, its presence drawing me closer, until something deep within me instinctively pulled away.
I staggered back, almost tripping over my tail, while shaking my head as I covered the cursed image with a forepaw.
What in the spirits’ name is that? I asked myself as I panted. It's just a picture, it can't hurt me... but what is it with that sphere?
I withdrew my forepaw from the wall, inspecting it. My white scales glistening in the morning light, hints of gold and silver reflected in their radiance.
No! I'm becoming just like everyone else; I'm actually falling into this fantasy.
I was determined to fight against its influence, because if I fought, I knew I hadn’t completely lost myself. I wasn't like other dragon
s, I had to accept that, but I wasn't some legend or forgotten myth, and I certainly wasn't going to get distracted from my true mission.
As I huffed, Echo entered the room. I really hoped she hadn’t seen as I stiffened and turned away.
"It's the last tale of the creators," she whispered, moving over to look at the painting.
Great, she did see. I mentally huffed.
However, her words captured my attention. 'Creators?' These four white dragons are the creators?
"This is why everyone thinks I'm so special, isn't it?" I asked as I reluctantly stepped up beside her.
"Hope comes in many forms," she replied. “All one has to do is open their eyes to see it.”
I didn’t know whether to be angry, confused, or sad. The entire world, or at least the parts of it I'd encountered so far, believed I was some sort of hero out to save them from something I didn't understand. Now I craved the answers to the mystery more than ever; it felt like a betrayal of my true self, but I had to know.
"Where did it come from?" I asked, ruffling my wings in agitation.
"It's one of the oldest paintings in the city, a copy of a carving deep within the ethereal temples of Taldran. The original was destroyed during the Guardian War by those who chose to forsake the creators."
Any hope that I might gain information from the temples she described was instantly shattered. Even so, I made a mental note to ask Risha about these ancient places.
Echo moved to check on her patient and I noticed a harness on her back, similar to the one she'd used to carry Boltock. It held a set of small boxes, each suspended in its own woven pouch. Even though her movements were quiet, they were enough to wake Risha, who shot up from her bed the moment she approached her brother. I had to question if she'd ever gone to sleep, but she settled once she saw there was no threat.
Ember also began to stir, rummaging around in her straw bed as she slowly woke. Risha hopped down from her bed, her movements scattering the dry vegetation when she landed.
"Good morning," she greeted, keeping at least one eye on Echo.
I croaked a good morning in return as I considered asking her about the whole creator thing, especially after how she'd made me feel last night. Though I didn’t want to bring the evil sphere into all of this, a Dark Guardian and his army of monsters was enough to deal with. I watched her move over to her brother and Echo respectfully shifted aside.
Let's hope if this legend is true, I can deal with Acrodan and this stupid sphere in one go.
As I thought to myself, another griffin entered the chamber, instantly recognisable as one of the soldiers.
"Are they ready?" he asked in the same commanding voice they all seemed to share.
Echo looked up, ears folding as she deadpanned.
"Why the rush?" She looked back at the supplies she was carrying. "They have to eat first."
Reaching around and picking off one of the boxes with her beak, she set it down before retrieving another. Boltock and Ember were quick to peer inside and Risha also edged over, the three of them taking out what looked to be red meat, before eagerly tucking in.
Wow, they really must have been hungry.
Echo nodded towards the food; I didn't feel the urge to join my friends in the feast. She didn’t say anything, she looked more like she was gazing up at a mighty statue rather than a young dragon.
I remained silent. It's like I'm some kind of monument to them.
The impatient soldier marched into the chamber, anxiously tapping his talons against the floor. I watched him carefully, still untrusting of the combat-oriented members of this new community. It was obvious he was under orders, and they seemed to be loyal to the core when it came to their honourable chain of command.
"This one won't be able to fly." Echo nodded towards Boltock’s bandaged wing, seemingly attempting to delay the inevitable, remaining all too aware of her need to hurry.
"And here I thought I’d be soaring among the clouds," he replied with a roll of his eyes and a snort.
Risha gave him a sharp glare.
"You're staying here," she instructed with an air of authority. "A merchant wing from Dardien will be able to pick you up."
"What?" he snapped, his green eyes widening.
"I promised I’d keep you safe and I nearly failed," she continued, glancing at the floor.
"And you think I can't keep myself safe? I could say the same to you! Things are different now. I know what's at stake, so what's the point in protecting me?" he added, putting the whole potential end of the world idea into perspective.
"Yes, things are different, that's why you have to stay," she added, hopelessly trying to maintain a tone of authority.
"I'm not staying here, for precisely the same reasons you wouldn't."
Risha's staunch attitude was completely eroded, she opened her mouth, but only soft whimpers escaped.
"You know I'm not staying," he insisted. "We promised to stay together."
This time he had no need for a firm tone. Risha's idea of keeping her treasured sibling safe by leaving him here was gone. Her defences failing at the mention of their binding promise.
While they debated, Ember moved round to my side.
"If he's coming, we won't be able to fly," she remarked quietly.
Boltock gave her a brief glance, but she seemed far more accepting of his wishes than his sister.
"We'll be able to help with that," Echo suggested. "Won’t we?" she added, glancing over to the soldier who begrudgingly nodded.
Knowing there was no stopping her brother from joining us, Risha sighed and wrapped a wing around him as she warned.
"By the creators, if anything happens to you again..."
"I'll be fine," he assured her with a pat on the shoulder.
That's it, I can't let anything happen to either of them, not so much as a scratch.
I walked out onto the balcony while Echo helped Boltock onto her back. Waiting patiently, Risha and Ember emerged with me, closely followed by the two featherwings.
"You don't have to wait long for a lift around here," Echo announced, catching a gust of wind and gently lifting into the air.
Risha and Ember followed. I waited for a moment, closely watching the soldier while the breeze lifted him into the air. As soon as they were all airborne, I spread my wings, waited for the next gust and took to the skies.
*
Although it was short, the flight to the valley floor made me feel alive again. It also reminded me of the world we were re-entering, a dangerous reality of freezing cold, frightening beasts and dark evils, and with one of our group now incapable of flight, it would be a more dangerous undertaking than ever.
I came to rest at the edge of the river, its rushing waters cutting through the middle of the pine-sided valley, swiftly gliding over large boulders and forming a torrent of gushing rapids. On either side a rough pebbled beach marked the water's edge, bordered by smaller shrubs blending into the tall, snow-dusted trees. The forest reached up on either side, creating the illusion of becoming ever taller as it climbed the mountainside until the barren stone halted its advance, snowy peaks eventually capping the rocky escarpments.
The air was cool and fresh, a sharp wind blew the dense branches with some urgency. A fallen trunk lay on the bank before me, sticking out from the forest, held up by a pair of mossy rocks. The toppled giant looked like those I'd previously encountered, rotting away and covered in a cocoon of lush green foliage.
Echo, Risha and Ember were the next to land, the smooth pebbles shifting under their weight. Finally, the soldier settled on the tip of the fallen log, sinking his claws into the decaying wood. His intimidating pose made me even more wary, and I made sure to keep a close eye on him as I turned to the others.
Risha and Echo helped Boltock down, not that he seemed to approve of being babied. I suspected that it was something he'd have to learn to appreciate.
"This route should be safe, although with that one being unable to fly the trip
is going to be longer," the soldier observed as he peered down stream.
He looked down at me, clearly expecting me to say something worthy of their legends. Allowing them to believe what they wished, I merely gave a gentle nod of acknowledgement.
"If you're careful to avoid the borders of Valcador, the Bleak Sea lies a few days walk through the forest. The ruins of Ilivar linger beyond. That's if they haven't moved in the past few centuries."
I almost dismissed the final part of his guidance as a joke, it was only after considering it for a moment more that I considered the possibility of it being true. Nevertheless, I gave my advisor another subtle nod.
"You have a good head start, but the ghauls have your scent and they won't be far behind," he added, panning his eyes across the forest.
Having only a vague idea of what he was referring to, I curiously questioned.
"The wolf-beasts, they're called ghauls?"
"Correct, horrific things. They were once gentle forest creatures before dark magic corrupted their minds and twisted their bodies." His head snapped around as birds scattered in the trees.
"Just be glad they're the only things on your tail, there are far more twisted beasts beyond here," he finished.
I nodded again, not wishing to think of what else might be out there. At least now I'd confirmed the name of another of the savage monsters determined to kill me.
The sound of grinding pebbles under heavy footsteps drew my attention back to the others walking up beside me. Echo flew over, landing at the base of the log, looking up to her companion.
"We would accompany you, but with things as they are, all are needed here. Orkin move down from the mountains to the east, and there are rumours they're rallying in the old citadel of Valcador," she warned, glancing up to her home above.
Troubled times? Now I could see they were serious – it was worse than I thought. The best thing is to avoid this Valcador place at all costs.
Even so, I still had a job to do and nothing was going to stop me. To get Tarwin back I had to stop this Dark Guardian and whatever stood by him. For now, it was the most I would allow myself to accept of their tales.
