I PROMISE I'M NOT DEAD. I WILL SEE THIS STORY THROUGH TO COMPLETION! This chapter was probably the hardest one to write and I was really unhappy with a lot of the writing, and I still am, but eventually I realized that I had to get the chapter out so I may come back and edit this section in the future. Anyways, hope you enjoy, and the next chapter is on the way. -MAG
The IceWings were fast when it came to preparation. When the sun rose and I lifted myself from the comfortable fur bed, the army was ready to go. They had spent the night sharpening weapons, distributing equipment and discussing strategy. None of the perfect soldiers displayed a sign of fatigue, their rigid snouts honed by battle and discipline.
Bering was not among those. The skinny IceWing looked terrible, with sunken eyes and constant yawns. It was clear that he had stayed up late, likely finishing up the shiny armor that now adorned some of the warriors. As I sidled up next to him, I could smell an odd, plantlike smell emanating from him, and there were spots of brown stains on his snout.
"Good morning," he greeted.
"I see you have been busy," I replied. "Are we ready to deploy?"
"As best as we will ever be."
"Wonderful, so where do I slot into this?"
The IceWing gaped at me. "You want to go?"
"Of course, I want to witness our tribe's success. I see Alpine over there, she probably knows how I can watch." I picked myself up and started striding over to the large and in charge second circle warrior. Bering followed, muttering on about pointless concerns.
"Hello Auster, how may I help you?" Alpine was busy fastening a piece of armor to her tail but gave me a nod as I approached.
"I see that the army is ready to go, is it possible to observe the battle? I don't want to miss out on this spectacular experience."
Alpine shrugged and returned to sliding the armor around. "Sure. Just as long as you don't interfere, the commanders don't care. And if they do, it's not like they can do anything to you. Bering, your stupid armor doesn't fit."
Bering sighed exasperatedly, "It's backwards, that's why it won't fit." He grabbed the armor piece and flipped it around, at which point it slid in perfectly with the rest of the pieces.
"That much better," exclaimed Alpine. "How about you give some clearer instructions next time?"
"I did," Bering clarified. "You just didn't bother to listen. Anyways, Auster, it's a bad idea to go to the battlefield. It's very dangerous and you could die."
Alpine guffawed, shoving Bering aside and placed herself squarely in front of me. "Don't listen to that twit, there's absolutely no harm in observing." The IceWing warrior leaned in close and whispered, "He's just jealous that you're doing something more exciting than sniffing bird droppings."
I smiled in response. Though I was sure that Bering didn't sniff droppings, it did provide a funny mental image that brightened my day. "Alright, I'll just follow behind you then, and stay behind the front lines."
"Yup, it's that simple," said Alpine.
"What? You're still going?" lamented Bering, aghast at my decision. "I'm going to regret this, but if you're going, so am I."
"Succumbing to peer pressure? That is so unlike you," jabbed Alpine. "What happened to the reasonable risk-averse wimp?"
Bering scowled and ignored her, choosing to stomp indignantly out of the courtyard. Alpine wrinkled her snout in response. "I don't know what his problem is," she said serenely, "but I'd say he's got some sort of rabid fascination with you."
"Me?"
"For someone who isn't that attractive, he seems to give you a lot of attention, attention the queen would kill for," Alpine laughed merrily. "Queen Glacier's been trying to get his affection for years and Bering's just completely blind. Along comes you and the awkward jitterbug is suddenly infatuated. Perhaps infatuated isn't the right word, but hey, he listens to you, that's quite impressive."
"I'm his assistant," I reminded the IceWing warrior. "It's in my job description to provide suggestions."
Alpine shrugged as she pulled the straps on her armor tight. "Eh, you wouldn't understand anyways. Just don't let the queen get too jealous."
It didn't take long until the strike force was fully equipped, and the warrior stood at attention as commander Iceberg inspected the troops. Of course, there was nothing to inspect, as every single soldier had the perfect posture. Iceberg grunted her approval and marched out of the courtyard. The warriors followed, streaming out the archway in an impeccable dual rank march.
Alpine winked at me and pointed her head ever so slightly in the direction of a small crowd waiting patiently. When all the soldiers had exited and taken to the sky, the crowd launched themselves after them with me in tow.
Even in the air, the soldiers maintained formation, not deviating from their position despite wind gusts, while the non-warriors flew sloppily behind. I chose to soar above them, keeping track of the formation from higher up, where the wind was more exciting and energetic, and flying more exquisite.
After a few hours of tracking south east, the formation suddenly broke up and pairs of IceWings soldiers dove down, keeping as close to the gravel patches and rock piles as possible, sweeping across the ground. Up ahead I could see the tips of the Claws of the Skies mountains stretching higher than the cloud layer.
The spectator IceWings slowed down, taking a different path, eventually settling on the side of the mountain where they proceeded on foot. I knew that a good, obedient observer would do the same, but I didn't want to land just yet. Soaring was such a fun thing to do. And from my upper vantage point, I would be able to see much more of the action.
It only took a couple more wing flaps to finally crest the ridge and I touched down on the crunchy surface, peering down into the valley below. The agents had not lied, there was a massive congregation of MudWings, all asleep and unaware of their impending fate.
The warriors gathered on the opposite side of the bowl, remaining out of sight of the few sentries posted by the camp. While waiting for the IceWings to make their move, I heard a thump, the sound of a clumsy landing. I whirled around to find a disheveled Bering, scowling as he stomped his way over.
"I can't believe you dragged me along," he muttered.
"It was your choice to come," I pointed out.
Bering ignored me and poked his head ever so slightly over the crest. "Wow, there's quite a few of them."
"Indeed, and when the strike force demolishes them, Burn won't dare to plan anything against us."
"Hmm, that is an optimistic prediction." The IceWing scientist did not sound convinced. He squinted at something in the distance and moved forward, exposing more of himself.
"Get down," I hissed. "They're going to see you!"
"No no wait, I see something, over there. Flash of black, I swear by the snow monsters…" Bering hopped up even higher and moved closer, agitated by the mystery phantom. "It can't be, are those, Auster, there are NightWings here, at least two of them."
"Where?" I demanded, shoving him aside and glaring down at the dark shadows, daring the filthy NightWings to show themselves. It took a few moments, but a subtle shift in the darkness by a cave drew my attention. A large lithe NightWing followed by a stubby short dragonet. My blood boiled at the sight of the traitorous dragons stalking along. My rage smoldered and it felt like a fire was erupting in my core. I nearly launched myself at them, but Bering pushed me back.
"Stop it," he growled, "Who was it that was saying that we could get caught?"
"Those are NightWings, our sworn enemy," I sputtered, trying to move his wing aside and return to glaring at the shadowy dragons.
"You could expose the entire operation," he hissed. "Two NightWings are not important, at least compared to this."
I could see his point. Even though I realized that eliminating the threat from Burn and her army was critical, a small throb of animosity still coursed through my talons as I sat down and poked my head over to watch. Fine, the NightWings would get away today, but if they ever showed up again, my claws would be waiting.
At this point, the IceWing warriors had set up their spots and I could see their snouts peeking from cover, ready to spring into action, awaiting the call from the commander.
"Hey! Wait, you're not supposed to be here!" A bulky MudWing had found our hiding spot and spun backwards, alarmed. "Sound the alarm!" he screamed and scrambled down the side of the mountain, half sliding half flapping towards the camp where the sentries tilted their heads, confused.
But the sentries didn't get the chance to alert the whole camp, as the hidden IceWings streamed out from their cover and swamped the camp, sliding from the shadows and striking with frightening and unparalleled efficiency. The MudWings were completely unprepared for the attack that came from above as IceWings sprung out of the trees, from behind rocks, from every direction to wreak havoc upon the half asleep dragons. From my vantage point, I could see the praetorian squad running amok through the camp, slashing and carving their way through the chaos. The enemy dragons dropped like flies, forced to fight in their drunken and groggy state. Even when a commander managed to bark out an order and a MudWing troop took flight, they were quickly forced back down to fight on the ground by the swooping IceWings directing the morning sun straight into their eyes. It was dreadfully, yet deliciously, disgusting, this demonstration of destructive domination by the deadly strike team.
I watched as Alpine, the squad leader, grabbed the still smoldering coals of a campfire with her bare talons and ram it up the snout of an unfortunate MudWing, before blasting them with frostbreath. IceWings left and right sliced with ease, bearing the newly allocated former SkyWing weaponry. The IceWings that wore the new polished silver armor dealt with the measly coughs of flame, ignoring the blistering heat as if it were no more troublesome than a tickle.
But the creator of such armor did not revel in his astounding achievement, instead firmly closing his eyes, appearing as if he were about to hurl. When pressed, he merely groaned in disgust.
"Bering, are you not impressed with this attack?"
"What is there to be impressed about?"
"The planning, the surprise, this endeavor's excellent execution exemplifies everything we have worked so hard to achieve, at least acknowledge it."
"This is bloody murder, it's not a fair fight. All of this feels incredibly unjust. This isn't right, or it doesn't feel right," the skinny IceWing shuddered as the struggling screams of MudWings assaulted his ears. "I can't watch this anymore."
Bering backed away from boulder's edge, averting his eyes and ears from the massacre below, and I could smell the stench of breakfast as he passed me. He must've thrown up when I wasn't watching. The IceWing scientist crept away and would've escaped had I not bounded ahead of him and stopped him.
"Just where are you going?" I demanded to know.
"I'm going to pay Caspian and Manta a visit, they have something that will help me forget about this mess," he shook his head vigorously, trying to shake the image of dying dragons out of his mind.
"Are you running away?"
"Of course not!" Bering held up his talons in defense. "I just need a little medicine and fresh air."
"Fine, then I'll come along with you." I had to make sure that our side didn't lose such a valuable asset.
Bering studied my snout intensely to the point I could see his shoulders shaking and his chest pounding with shallow breaths, but he relented and without a further word took off discreetly to the west, skirting the edge of the battlefield. I followed, keeping low to the ground to avoid detection and suspicion.
We headed south, towards the river and into more heavily forested areas. The cool mountain air transitioned into muggy sultry humidity, and bugs of all sorts smashed into my snout. It only took a little while to arrive at a small hut, but the sticky wet air made it feel so much more than that. We were drenched in sweat by the time Bering landed and knocked on the door.
A familiar snout greeted us. "Ah, Bering, and Auster," exclaimed Manta. "How lovely, come on in then. Looks like you two could use a cooldown and I have got the perfect potion for that."
We entered through the low doorway to find a simple accommodation, with a small cabinet and a table occupying the space immediately in front of us, and a large bed at the back. Caspian sat at the table with his characteristic hooded glare of curiosity, and a pair of eyes stared from the bed.
While Manta fussed about with a bowl, Caspian beckoned us to join him at the table. "So what is the reason of this visit?"
Bering gulped nervously. "I just saw my first battle. I didn't know it was that brutal, especially the praetorian guard. I thought they only did escort duty," he managed to stammer.
Caspian regarded him darkly. "Do you want a nanny? The praetorian force is the top elite squadron in a whole army of pompous dolts. Highly disciplined killing unit, they label themselves. Led by that insufferable self-righteous Hvitur. Three moons I hated my commander."
"Actually," I interrupted, "Hvitur is no longer the commander. He ran away to join some random peace organization or something."
"That does sound like something he would do," Caspian conceded, drumming his talons on the table thoughtfully. "He'd probably have some holy explanation ready to spout if you asked him why. Hvitur's a walking philosophy scroll."
"He must have his reasons," I replied. "Speaking of which, why don't you and Manta join said peace organization? Aren't you two traitors to the tribe now?"
The smaller IceWing slammed his talons down so ferociously that I instinctively flinched. "I don't harbor unrealistic hopes," he growled. "I may not agree with my tribe, but that doesn't mean I going to join some happy-go-lucky silly rebel group that thinks some bogus prophecy is going to end this bloody war."
"I concur, those fraudulent NightWings must be spreading some fictitious gibberish."
Caspian lowered himself back down. "I'm not saying that the Talons of Peace are going to fail. I want them to succeed. But at this point, all I need is a nice safe place to live with my mate and raise my dragonet. Blasted SandWings and their ridiculous politics," he muttered.
We sat in silence while Manta hummed to herself and finished mixing whatever concoction was in her bowl. She poured the brown liquid into a flask and passed it to Bering, who viewed it with skepticism.
"It's not mud," promised Manta.
Bering glanced furtively at the flask before downing it, squinting in displeasure as the liquid drained down his throat. "Tastes like herbs," he said.
"Of course it does," said Manta. "It's an extract from a little plant I found. I wanted to test it out to see what it does."
"Wait, I'm your test subject?" coughed the poor IceWing.
Manta giggled, "You'll be alright. I did chew the leaf and I found that it has excellent calming capabilities. Just relax and let it do its magic. Actually, it's best if you go for a lie down."
"This is not helping," Bering groaned, but he waddled over to the straw bed, lying down next to the amorphous form with curious eyes that had peered at me from afar when I entered the hut. Now that my eyes had adjusted, I could make out a small dragonet who had a keen interest in the larger invader, but who was either respectful or fearful enough to keep their distance.
"Oi Typhoon," Manta whistled to the dragonet. "Come over here so you don't bother mister Bering during his beauty nap."
The small dragonet was all too eager to bound over and leap onto the table and sniff the empty flask. However, when he reached for the flask to investigate the remaining drops at the bottom, Caspian lifted him off the table and placed the hybrid squarely on the ground with a stern warning.
"Typhoon, table is for placing things other than your rear. Be polite and greet our visitor."
"Merp," chirped the dragonet excitedly.
"You have words," Caspian sighed, "Use them please."
"Hi," the little dragonet squeaked, staring up at me with wide curious eyes.
This little friend had no sense of personal space or respectful snout expressions, but I didn't mention that aloud. Instead, I smiled benevolently at the dragonet and replied in the calmest voice I could muster, "Hello, you're a very handsome dragonet."
The dragonet chirped again and leaped onto my talon, interpreting my smile as an invitation to wrestle with my claws, which I obliged for the purposes of studying the specimen. The hybrid had the signature IceWing neck spikes, but I could also spot gills along his neck, and a pattern of light blue scales that pulsed with a dull glow, not to mention his tail, which didn't taper out to a thin whip end like mine or Caspian's, but rather the bulky and thick tail found on SeaWings. Strange, I thought, that Caspian would give up his prestigious position in the praetorian guard for a secluded outcast life with someone from the ranks of our sworn enemies, but then again, Manta didn't seem like the most normal SeaWing either.
My eyes darted back to the now sleeping form of Bering. His chest rose and fell steadily, and he had a look of peace about him. The mystery extract seemed to have done what it was supposed to.
Eventually, Typhoon got tired of wrestling with my boring and nonresponsive talons and decided to clamber over a small shelf where a stack of scrolls resided. he picked out a scroll from the collection and brought it over to the table to explore. He unfurled it to reveal a cartoonish depiction of a SeaWing and its oddly misshapen furry aquatic mink. I'm sure it had a distinct species name, but I was unaccustomed to aquatic life.
The story seemed fairly basic, all this positivity and unrealistic joy and happiness melded together to form a brainwashed depiction of the world. Simple and optimistic enough for this dragonet perhaps, though no IceWing dragonet would be caught reading this immature content.
"Where do you get these scrolls?" I asked.
"The SeaWings are very prolific writers," Caspian explained. "It seems every time Manta visits, she returns with a new edition of some hot story. Queen Coral herself pens many of these, by the way."
"That would explain the absurdity of these stories," I retorted. "No proper IceWing would read such pointless text." He had to realize that filling his dragonet's easily imprinted mind with foolishness was a mistake.
"Auster," Caspian chided, in a voice that I detested very much, similar to how a disapproving parent would admonish an unruly child. "I know the IceWing way, I grew up under that system. And I'll tell you a small secret, the IceWing way isn't always the right way."
"What do you mean? The IceWing is the only way. That's why the IceWings are-"
"So much better than everyone else," the praetorian guard finished for me. "And yet, for all that discipline and precious, daft ranking system, they still can't win a war."
"Well, with the recent attack on the MudWing camp, Scarlet won't be doing anything soon," I declared.
Caspian narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Speaking of which, it seems that the IceWing tribe has been extremely lucky despite losing one of the top generals. You wouldn't have anything to do with it would you?"
"Nope, and how do you know about tribal business? You're out here in the middle of nowhere."
"I have contacts," the praetor guard responded slyly. "Your little snobby IceWing circles aren't as leakproof as you think. Someone told me that you were nothing more than a sixth circle palace guard. Your rise to third circle fame was quite a surprise. The question is, why did your tickle work on Bering?"
"Tickle? Are you trying to insinuate something here?" I growled, furious about how this conversation had shifted back to me.
Caspian's grin widened, having caught his prey tampering with the trap. "I'm not the only one who's noticed that Bering acts suspiciously agreeable around you."
"Yeah, no shade, but Bering is incredibly antisocial, but you must have some kind of magic nectar that charms him in the right way. Maybe you could share your secret with me?" Manta chimed in cheerfully, earning her a glare from me and a guffaw from her mate.
"Well maybe he's just changed over time," I huffed, staring straight back at the rude couple.
"Certainly, I don't doubt that," said Manta, flashing me a disarming smile. "It has been several years after all. He's never had an apprentice before but that doesn't mean that he hasn't evolved to come out of his shell and interact with others properly."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Caspian interrupted. "Bering did have an apprentice before, but it didn't work out. It was all kept a secret, and I only heard it through gossip. But then that blasted prude Hvitur became commander and everyone shut up."
"I'm sure that Bering has perfectly legitimate reasons for hiring me," I insisted. There had to be, even if it was because I was the cheapest. I still resented him for succumbing to the council's demands, but if I were in his position, I would've done the same, find the bare minimum to continue my work. Could I really blame him for that? And besides, I could never scoff at an effortless promotion.
Caspian shook his snout in disagreement, but resigned from any further argument, refocusing his attention on the small dragonet still engrossed in the trivial scroll. "Typhoon, why don't you go check on mister Bering?"
The little dragonet rolled up the scroll obediently and trotted back to the grass mat, examining the dormant form. The medicine appeared to have been effective, as Bering's chest rose and fell peacefully and when poked, he yawned and rose to his feet without shaking. "Hmf? Oh, hello little one. Am I in your bed?"
Typhoon made a sound halfway between a seagull squawk and a seal bark.
Bering angled his snout, confused, and looked to Caspian for help interpreting the strange foreign language of dragonets. Caspian shrugged and beckoned him over.
"Feeling better huh?"
"Definitely. Whatever that plant is, I want some more, could be really useful for managing stress."
"You can't consume too much of the plant," said Manta, holding up a thin green leaf. "For starters, it's really hard to grow, and second, I don't think it's a good idea to eat a lot. I found that it slows down your heat beat quite a bit, and if it's too slow, then that could be dangerous."
"Hmm, I am calmer now, but I have this burning desire to eat those leaves," replied Bering, eyeing the leaf hungrily, though he kept his talons to himself.
"Nope," Manta asserted, and tucked away the leaf in a red jar. "Is there anything else you needed?"
"Well, I suppose you don't know the answer to this, but I should ask anyways. Do you know where Hvitur is?"
"Ha! As if we would know," barked Caspian, amused by the question. "That bugger has gone off to dreamland for all I care. Just sniff around and follow the most morally pure scent you find, and you'll find Hvitur at the end of that trail, giving some sort of rousing speech."
"What does that even mean?" I asked, confused by his strange instructions.
"So, you don't have an answer," Bering noted. "Fine then. Manta, are you sure I can't have any more of those leaves?"
Manta denied his request.
Bering growled softly but kept his craving under control and motioned for us to leave. "Alright then, that concludes the end of our visit. Thanks for your hospitality."
Manta shepherded us to the exit and bade us farewell. "Remember, if you ever need anything, just stop by."
"What about those leaves?" Bering asked again.
"Next time you come to me with anxiety I'll whip up concoction with radishes," she joked, and it elicited an annoyed sigh from Bering, and he turned west to head back to the Ice Kingdom.
As the marsh retreated from the landscape below and the hut gradually faded from attention, I observed Bering closely. Out of all the time I had spent in contact, he didn't appear to treat me any differently than others. He was just a happy, friendly smart fellow who could down countless bottles of currant juice in a single sitting. But Caspian's words gnawed away at me. Why did Bering choose me out of all the choices he had? He told me already, but as much as I wanted to believe it, I couldn't force myself to squash the tiny speck of doubt that lingered, clinging on to me like a tick, constantly sucking away.
-Stop doubting yourself.
Oh look, it's my personal inspirational speaker coming to save the day.
-You'll drown in worry if you keep obsessing over this.
Well then help me out and provide me with an explanation.
-I can't.
Helpful.
Walrus remained quiet for a few leagues, not bothering to clarify my doubts or his mystifying answers. Of course, his shallow responses did nothing to alleviate the nagging sensation and those uncomfortable feelings that I didn't belong and unaware of the magical act that permitted such an existence.
-Look, I can't explain it alright. Dragon behavior is fickle and maybe something about you tickled him in the right way. You could just listen to him and assume that he was speaking the truth.
We're back to this again, that stupid reason, just to satisfy the council. And the council just accepts this low grade unexceptional palace guard. Something about that is really fishy.
-I don't disagree, but just stop thinking about it. It's not productive.
When did you start caring about being productive, all you seem to do is spout lofty nonsense. You don't understand.
-I don't understand? I understand everything, I have observed everything you've done or even thought ever since you were brought into this world. And it pains me that you can't find value in yourself.
Hmph. You still haven't answered my question.
-Already told you I can't. But here, if it worries you so much…
The small tingle of the worms began to tickle my horns, spreading downwards over my snout and while it wasn't painful in any way, it felt a bit unpleasant, like rubbing against fish scales or squelching against slimy kelp. Nonetheless after the worms marched confidently down my snout, they dissipated, like raindrops drying up in sunlight.
My head filled with a warm blurry sensation, like a happy memory that was just beyond reach and through the veil, the only thing I could make out was a bright shining day and a small shadow interacting with a larger one. The smaller being leaped around with joy while the large shadow sat still and laughed merrily. I felt strangely connected to the beings but could not identify them or why they made me … content.
-Feel better?
Definitely. But what is this strange memory? I don't recall ever seeing this before, and how are you-
-Don't question it, enjoy it for what it is, and if you ever feel down, you can always access this memory, just please be mindful and have a little faith.
Faith doesn't win wars though or get you promotions.
-Fair. Those are very important.
Are you being sarcastic?
-Me? Never. Keep doing what you're doing because even though you can't tell, you're doing great.
At what?
-Whatever it is you're doing.
You are avoiding the question again.
-Arghh, go back to your happy place, it makes more sense than if I tried to explain.
That was an acceptable compromise. It wasn't as if I couldn't convince Walrus to divulge more, but the enticing glow of the shadows was a more powerful compelling force that calmed my nerves and set everything alright. Everyone would be happy, and that was all that mattered.
With a major triumph in the strike against the MudWings, why shouldn't we celebrate? Even though I didn't do any of the fighting myself, no doubt the council would be in high spirits, and perhaps there was a reward in there for me, notwithstanding whatever moral qualms Bering harbored. As the Ice Palace came into view, one by one, my concerns were squeezed out of my mind, replaced with a soothing bliss as the shadows danced away with enchanting form. Despite not hearing any sound, I interpreted my own meaning from them. They were telling me that I was worthy.