Chapter 6
Clara tried to take it in all at once… and failed.
She was falling, that was one thing she knew, thanks to that dumb dragon that didn't understand sarcasm, the dragon who was now flying down beside her and… mocking her, it seemed like.
"Not funny, Pride!" Clara yelled at the top of her voice, "What do I do, you insolent reptile?"
Pride gave a growl in reply.
"What do you mean 'flap them harder'? I'M FLAPPING AS HARD AS I CAN MANAGE!"
But she tried what he had said anyway and spread her wings as wide as they would go and flapped them slower and firmer… they seemed to act as fluffy parachutes and slowed her down a bit.
She tried twisting herself into a position where she was facing downwards and found that she was gliding…
It was a lovely sensation, she found: the air was warm but the breeze cooled her and blew her hair back out of her face. She gave a beat of her wings to keep her in the air longer and smiled at Pride as he flew beside her.
"OK… I forgive you!" She laughed, "This is amazing!"
Pride showed her the dragon equivalent of a smile and dived down to the ground.
Clara followed the manoeuvre of the dragon's wings and glided down beside him, almost dreading her landing. She braced herself and, as Pride landed swiftly back on solid ground, she half landed on her feet and stumbled forward until she inevitably fell down flat on her face.
She could hear Pride laughing at her as she picked herself up and brushed herself off.
"Thank you very much, Pride," Clara huffed, hiding a smile.
She gazed up into the distance and caught a glimpse of something on the horizon… a rather large and impressive-looking building. It looked like a palace to Clara. But did they have a monarchy on Zorad? Or was this just an average house..?
"Shall we head towards it?" Clara asked.
Pride either didn't hear her, or was very good at pretending he didn't hear her, as he didn't answer, but Clara headed toward the palace thing anyway and her dragon followed suit…
She didn't know quite what to expect when she reached the building… if it was a royal house, maybe she'd have to talk to the king! She didn't know if she had enough courage to do that…
Then again, would the kind be in charge of the army? Maybe Zorad's law and rulership worked differently than Earth's.
This, to Clara, was a very interesting concept to ponder. She rather wanted to learn more about laws on other planets. It was safer than accidentally breaking a law that she didn't know existed and ending up in jail for it, anyhow.
She yawned and leaned on Pride for support as she started to drop off. It was getting cold and she supposed this was the end of another short Zorad day. Soon the stars would come out and there would be only the moon to light their path.
"We've got to hurry…" Clara said, eventually, "Before it gets dark…"
So they picked up their pace and made for the impressive palace…
The duo, the human girl and her dragon, we're almost at the castle, tired and worn out. The night chill was bitter and Clara shivered as a gust of wind blew past her legs.
"Almost there…" she murmured, squinting at the palace. Outside it, she could just about see two intimidating-looking sentries holding spears, guarding the large doors to the golden castle.
As Clara and Pride approached, the guards drew their spears across the doorway and shouted,
"Who goes?"
Clara cleared her throat and, in her deepest, most respectable voice, replied,
"We're here to speak with your ruler."
"Have you received an invitation?"
"Trust me," Clara smirked, pulling her bandana down from her mouth, "We don't need an invitation."
The sentries marched Clara down an enormously long hall…
Pride had had to stay outside, for reasons imaginable.
The hall seemed to never end… it just went on and on, with doors leading off left and right every few steps. It was certainly a big palace and Clara had no clue how the servants remembered which door led to which room.
Eventually, though, they came to an abnormally large wooden double door that would have towered over even Pride if he had been there.
"This is the throne room," one of the guards declared, shoving Clara toward it and then brushing his hands off as if he had just touched a dead animal, "In you go, little Chimariton."
'Chimariton?' Clara thought to herself, 'Is that some sort of Zoranian derogatory term for a woman?'
She coughed, snapping back to reality,
"Thank you, guards," she chocked, trying to maintain the impression of importance that she seemed to have bequeathed upon the two poor guards.
She pushed open the doors (which were lighter than she had expected) as the sentries strolled away and she entered the room…
It seemed a bit like a tent, the throne room.
Blue and purple cloth hung about from the high ceiling and caught the light streaming in from the stained glass window above them. A table sat in the middle of the room with two strange seats curved around it that looked like mixes between park benches and sofas.
Two Zoranians (one wearing a crown on his head) sat on the seats and, when they heard the doors slam shut, turned sharply to Clara.
"I have a bone to pick with you…" she declared.