Author's Note: This story has taken over three years to get this far. Slow, I know, but as I write chapters, I'm reviewing it for internal consistency and such. I post chapters only when they have been screened and I'm completely satisfied with them. That's not to say that I'm without my mistakes, and things like character/location descriptions are the bane of my existence. I'm in the process of updating published chapters.
Each chapter will have some disclaimer at the beginning, if necessary. This is to make sure you're aware of any warnings, like violence/gore etc. prior to reading the chapter.
This chapter has received some improvements to general flow and descriptions. Updated as of April 29th, 2019. I hope you enjoy! Also, I own none of this. O'gracious copyright police!
Pain shot through my neck as dragon fire clawed treacherously at my harness. Red scales covered my vision in the sunset and fury of battle. My rider shouted in the chaos and my enemy made a shrill screech; stopping their inferno against me. I was quickly met with silence as my foe hurdled lifeless to the ground. Their rider echoed the dying scream of their bonded dragon. I strained to keep myself airborne, panting from exhaustion and effort. We had spent much too long in the air. Far too much of our own energy to risk continuing, but this was what I had spent so long fighting for.
Mumbled words whispered through my mind as the elf on my back spoke. Large amounts of strength flowed through my muscles, and I flapped once with renewed vigor. It was not the energy of an elf, but of a stolen heart.
Bloodlust from the battle laced my every thought.
Another dragon crashed into me from below and latched onto my chest, catching me by surprise. This was our worst nightmare; fighting our own, merely because a few of us decided to become savages. I managed to dig into the scales of their sides before teeth sank into my jaw and neck. In my mistake, I furiously pushed off from them in fevered retreat. Our wings collided as we struggled for the advantage in the chaos. The elf on my back fought his own battle with a second dragon nearby, keeping silent as my enemies' minds did the fighting.
The dragon grappling me used its smaller size to its advantage. Its head pulled away from my own onslaught to swing the sharp horns on its skull into my jaw. The weapons easily pierced through my war-beaten scales; lodging themselves deeply.
"Maelorum, help!" I heard over my own voice.
The elf on my back was not a friend, and the familiar face held on with a sorrowful eye. My head had twisted unnaturally at the force of my new wound. In my forced view of the battle, I witnessed my death approaching. The ground rushed up to meet my free falling body. The dragon I had been falling with struggled to free itself from my plight but broke away from my jaw to fly away in victory. The wind battered against me, bending my wings against the will. The skyline blurred, a mixture of terrible ambers and thick smoke. The sky was aflame, the sun, the city we fell toward. Everything burned.
Disoriented, I tasted blood as I choked and gasped both in panic and pain. It would be impossible to right myself, and my wound was already sapping what reserves I managed to salvage from Laudra. I could sense her nearby, but the last image of her I could remember was as horrible as I imagined mine being. The elf on my back rushed his final words before the burning city consumed us both.
I jumped awake, but not from the nightmare; from Maelorum's troubled breathing. The garbled panting of his throat coughed smoke from beside his extended talons. I knew to approach with caution, as previous attempts bode ill for me in my tired state. A dragon of his size was more than capable of impaling me with a single tooth, and the dexterity of his claws were important threats to consider. However, I could not remember exactly how long his reach was at this moment; so I remained a healthy distance from my dragon.
His distress worsened as he sunk his claws into the stone and brush he slept on, and my options lessened. The images and sensations of his nightmare roared between our link as if they were hurricane. I could make sense of their shapes, and his anxiety of each meaning behind the faces, but his fear was just that; his own.
No matter how normal the molded shapes seemed, their colors were always grayscale, and they always struck at him randomly with impulsiveness. As fascinating as they were, my friend was suffering from the experience and I was the only one capable of saving him. A quick sentence in my mother tongue insured my immediate safety as I rose my voice to sing him out of his plight.
As expected, his emerald eyes flashed open in a moment of misdirected anger and confusion. With his inhale, black smoke blew into his mouth and was followed immediately by a wave of heat to be spit from it. No light escaped his jaws, but the fire expelled scratched at the treeline he faced. Had I slept any closer, injury would have been unavoidable. He froze as his thoughts brought their way to the present. My own nervousness seeped through our fire vanished from his realization, but all it would take was for him to turn his head and face me while he spit death... I blinked slowly and stopped my sluggish speech. He responded shakily, and the air was thick with his apology.
They are worsening. His thoughts uttered weakly. He shrunk into himself even more; his charred nest crackling in protest. The deep grooves from his slumber allowed his claws to rest under his chest and neck. I could only nod through my stupor. My own exhaustion called me to my resting place once more in the cold morning. The sky was still dark, though Maelorum's black scales remained to be seen as an outline to the thin clouds above.
It was a good idea to sleep here last night. I thought to the stars above, allowing the comforting silence to envelope my tired mind. They had become more frequent for him, and though my own nightmares continued to plague me, no frequency or magnitude had changed as of late. Mine differed slightly from his. I never died in my nightmares. My nightmares mostly revolved around bad memories or worst-case scenarios.
I sat on my makeshift bed and pondered the morning. There was a crispness in the air which betrayed any perception of horror of our minds. It seemed as though we could be the only pair who were miserable in this entire mountain range. I knew that idea to be logically impossible, but I nevertheless felt the sensation.
658 years I had witnessed. No trees outside of Du Weldenvarden were older than me. But with every new morning, I watched and thought about how many of these trees watched me with an instinctual curiosity. How many elves would sing to them before they returned their nutrients to the life around them?
These trees were unlikely to share the air of any elves in recent years. This mountain range contained many secrets and horrors even I had yet to reveal. We may not be as superstitious as some creatures, but we could not deny the evidence of 'wrongness' The Spine held. And in that observation, Maelorum and I chose to study such a challenge.
Only the past 20 years were spent exploring north of The Spine. It seemed to be the only way to escape the petty politics and hypocrisy of an organization. The dragon riders of Alagaesia were no more virtuous than the urgals I had slain decades ago.
The source of this rot eating at what had once been a great honor was the young race of humans my kin acclimated. While I served as a council-member for decades, I had overlooked so many issues in their name. It only took until I murdered a man to realize how grievous that mistake became.
20 years was a blink for me, but I could still remember the time before their race joined my kin in serving as riders. That may have been well over 6 centuries ago, but a simple blink was not enough time for me to feel anything more than disdain for them.
I blinked, suddenly aware of sun rays beaming down at me through the trees. They had once been a beauty I could stare at for hours. Now, my reaction was nothing short of aversion to the light. I had enchanted my eyes to see what threats stalked the shadows, at the cost of seeing the sun's beauty every morning. This was a monumental achievement, as there had been no written record of biology to teach me about perception of the senses.
After a moment of waking up, I looked over to Maelorum as he nudged items clumsily into my makeshift saddle bags. His head snaked to reach his back with minimal difficulty. However, his enormous size betrayed his intention, and I watched him in the middle of fumbling with my longbow with an amused yet curious gaze. The wood wrapped around two of his teeth, delicately held with the tip of his tongue to keep it from falling to its original resting place on the ground.
"And what are you attempting?" I asked, still recovering from temporary blindness. He continued his action once more before the string snapped and the wood bit his lip. I laughed at the sound. He blew a puff of smoke in irritation; blackening the broken weapon lodged between his fangs. The northern winds licked at my cheeks as I sat up to stretch.
You should be with the other two-legs, He suggested, Besides, my scales are collecting soot. His wings rustled as he finished. I winced as I made to stand. The rocks I chose to sleep on proved to be a bad decision. He watched me in my deliberate silence. My legs made their way to his scales and my fingers wiped at his natural armor. The color remained, however my fingers were now the shade of his scales. I sighed at his nest preferences.
"Two-legs are to me as burnt wood is to you.-" He interrupted my analogy.
Impossible to get rid of and adds darkness to your eldunarí? I looked up at his emerald irises. Despite the playful banter, we agreed on his statement. Except perhaps the dramatic comparison to his heart. I almost managed a scoff at his response.
"To your eldunarí? Maelorum, your scales are black. You sleep in soot. You wouldn't have this issue if you chose to not set your bed aflame." He snorted a retort and presented my broken weapon in a request for me to dislodge it. I obliged to help, and for once decided to not weight the proposition. 20 years was long enough to fill our desire for punishment, and I could only hope the state of our land had improved in our absence. "...And, I suppose I'll need to replace the bow." I finished. He reached over to the rest of the bags and carefully laid them out for me to tie them to his saddle. This time, his mouth remained closed to prevent any unintentional damage to the tools. The saddle had been made for leisure, but 20 years wore it to a ghost of what it once was.
I had spent countless hours mending the underside before deciding it was unable to return to its pristine condition. The knowledge would not stop Maelorum from wearing it for familiar comfort. On such occasions like yesterday, I would allow it and he would sit and think with a satisfied hum as though he were a cat lying in its favorite spot on a window. Luckily for him, I was not without some measure of skill in saddle making. What kind of Shur'tugal would I be if I could not repair such a necessary item?
After a moment of his breathing breaking the silence, his head swayed back and forth as he hummed the song I sang for him last night. I spent the rest of the morning cleaning our makeshift camp. Nomads carried only the necessities with them. My effects comprised of a quill, paper for documentation, the quiver still on Maelorum's back, my now-broken bow, small containers for meals, spare clothes, and now a dragon with a goal.
Maelorum's eagerness to get back to civilization sapped at my desire for us to be away from them. He longed for the interactions between his kin. I suspected it was a desire born from his nightmare, to befriend or find comfort in his own way. His wings rustled excitedly as I climbed up to his spine.
He was small, for a 650 year old dragon, and it came to no surprise that he enjoyed using his wings to make him seem larger. Even with only me as his company, I would catch his wings outstretched; even if only enough to catch the behavior. As I made my way to the saddle, he stood with pride. The sound of his nest creaking and crumbling from his weight reminded me of trees being torn from their roots in a storm.
This was where we were strongest; as one, bonded in mind and close in body. I sat in the very worn saddle the bags secure beside me.
With no traders traveling this far north, all of our comforts were made by my hands and sung with magic and I took every opportunity to imitate the designs of Ília Fëon into my work. They blended gently into the rough textures of his scales and each moved alongside the others to signal his preparations for flight.
I braced myself, and he kicked off the ground to race the wind. Even the constant gusts could not rid him of the smell of burnt wood. Mountains slowly blended into lush forests, and Maelorum followed the clouds to fly South. I took this opportunity to further stretch my mind while his wings shivered from the morning fog. My eyes remained closed during my meditating. His flying calmed to a peaceful glide except when he needed to gain altitude again.
We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in silence, enjoying the peace and rhythm of his flying. It was midday when he angled to land north of The Spine. I could see Fundor's Bay leading in the direction of Ceunon to our left, giving the air a salty, yet fresh scent. I looked around, wondering why he chose to land here.
My stomach and the nearby berry bushes reminded me of the breakfast I skipped. I hopped off his back, and he massaged in his usual fashion; starting from head to tail and ended with him rubbing the muscles in his wings against unsuspecting trees.
Within a few minutes, I had gathered several berries, and made my way back to Maelorum. I smiled widely at his choice of location, and he waddled over to me from his bent tree.
"You picked a wonderful place to rest. The amount of bushes here is almost too good to be true." My fingers already picked up a blueberry as I finished thanking him. He nodded, replying.
I saw this place just in time, as well. There is a small pond just beyond the treeline and my wings were cramping. He explained, easily looking up and over the trees and into the mountains. My makeshift plate was already almost finished in my haste to quiet my hunger. I could feel his eyes on me, as a question formed on his mind. I know you're not happy about returning, but we have been gone for several years. The humans won't remember you, or what happened. Your kind have already forgiven you, surely. We would be welcomed with open arms. This will also give us the chance to prove ourselves once again. Promise me you will try to forgive yourself as I have?
My eyes wandered to the trees, and I watched them sway in the breeze for a moment. There was no escaping his determination. "It is not myself I need to forgive. An organization with compromise on laws defies its purpose. I would have thought the council to punish me as they should have. A shame we were forced to exile ourselves to prove a point." I spat.
No creature is without mistakes. You learned your lesson with remorse, and I have accompanied you thus far in support of that decision, but what benefit do the rest of the world gain from our absence? This 'punishment' has gone on long enough; we need to return to our lives as protectors.
I heard his conviction, and I felt my own diminishing, "An example must be made of someone,". Elders and council members were no different above each other; picking favorites was a costly choice and the price was integrity. However, the knowledge we had acquired of The Spine's hidden mysteries were little more than a futile goal. It would take a dragon rider's lifetime to uncover them, and who would benefit from the skewed findings of an elf whose mind had been lost to the search of answers in it?
"I agree, albeit hesitantly, to accompany you as well."
He accepted my answer in understanding of my reasoning; even if it differed from his own opinion. When I was ready to continue, we took to the sky once more and flew south toward the city of Ceunon.