A/N: Here is the next chapter of Ancient Vows! :) It's another Doran-centric piece. After reading Freida Right's fic 'Wing Man', I think it's fitting that this particular chapter is published now.
Dragonfriend
They called him Dragonfriend.
His real name was Doran, but no dragon ever spoke it aloud. To know another's name was to have control over that person, and so to speak it would be folly. Though they all knew Dragonfriend's true name, they never voiced it, in his presence or among other dragons. Likewise, Dragonfriend never revealed to his kind or any other the true names of each of the dragons he befriended, knowing in his heart that he had been entrusted with something sacred, to be treasured and kept safe.
Veritas could recall exactly when they had first met. It had been when he was still a young dragonling, hiding in his mother's shadow. Doran had appeared among the dunes, walking quietly so as not to alarm them, though they had all sensed his approach. He had been younger, then, than when Veritas last saw him. He smiled at them, and said politely, 'I do hope I am not disturbing your peace. I only wish to speak with you.'
The leader of their group—indeed, Veritas' own mother—inclined her head. 'You may,' she said gravely. 'Human.'
Humans were rare to be seen among dragons. No person was brave (or foolhardy) enough to dare approach. Except for Doran. Doran had been different. All other humans had been vicious and cruel, and fuelled by anger and hate. They dared to hunt dragons—the dragons that protected their skies. Since before the time of Adin, the dragons had done so. And now humans dared to hunt them down?
It was enough to make any dragon bugle in rage.
Only Doran dared approach them, wished to understand and befriend them. Only Doran. At first, the dragons in Veritas' family were wary, and afraid of this sole human who had come so close to their dragonlings and life. But, slowly and surely, they warmed toward him. They saw Doran play with their offspring, and try hard to learn the ways of dragons and not harm them. They felt his goodwill and the kindness in his spirit, of which there was so little in the spirits of most humans. Veritas himself had been afraid, young as he had been then, but as Doran walked among them, something eased within him. Doran was not like the others, Veritas realised. He was kind, and honest, and good. He would never hurt dragons.
Why would any human wish to hurt dragons in the first place? They were the ones who protected them, protected their skies from the one who reigned on the other side of the mountains, in the grey place now called the Shadowlands. They were the ones who culled the Granous, the sadistic creatures of the Os-Mine Hills, providing safe travels for humans in that area. Without that safety, the Granous would be a danger to every human wishing to travel through their domain. So why would humans hurt dragons, when dragons gave them so much?
Foolhardy, weak humans. Veritas could have laughed at that.
In the end, it was not the humans who almost destroyed his race.
It was the Ak-Baba.
They hunted in the skies unchecked—hunted Dragonkind. It had begun long before Veritas was born. It was because of the Ak-Baba that the amethyst dragons numbered less than one hundred in this day and age, a terrible thing for a race which had once populated the skies, soaring through them as if they were born to it and were entitled to it. And, Veritas reminded himself, they were. No matter what the Ak-Baba had done to them, no matter what the humans thought, the skies were theirs, and no one could or should be able to take it away from them.
Then why was he ensconced within a dune, preparing to go to his rest?
Doran had asked it of him. Dragonfriend. He had been trusted by Dragonkind, and he had earned that trust fairly. There was not a one among Veritas' tribe that could have claimed that Doran was not what he seemed, that he was one of the ignorant, death-seeking humans who so feared and loathed dragons.
Veritas trusted him. And so, when Doran appeared, and spoke his piece, Veritas sat still, and listened.
The Ak-Baba had done their work quickly. Within a year of the first attacks, the numbers of amethyst dragons had dwindled to Veritas, Veritas' mother and others of his immediate bloodline. And then, finally, it was just Veritas left. How could such a thing be? On the day he found his mother's carcass bloody and half-buried in the sand, he almost could not have believed it, numb as he was. Truly, was he the last?
It had taken weeks of desperate flying from one corner of his territory to the next, but at last he knew. He was alone.
It was three months after Mother's death, when Doran came. Not for the last time, no; there was one more visit, the fateful visit which had changed everything for him. That first time, the sorrow and despair beat in Veritas' heart so strongly that it blotted all else out. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, least of all the life of the last living amethyst dragon. What did it matter, if all else was dead?
Doran's appearance on the deserted beach was a spot of joy in the bleakness of Veritas' life. The man was a lone figure standing on a territory which had once been home to so many dragons but now was home to just one. It grieved Doran to see the emptiness, and his pain was writ in his eyes for Veritas to see. It comforted Veritas, in a twisted way. At least, although he was the last dragon standing, he did not have to grieve alone.
'Veritas, my friend, this is a terrible thing,' Dragonfriend said. 'You say you are the last of the amethyst dragons?'
'I am the last of my kind.' It was agony to confirm it, but it had to be said. 'No other dragon is left. Soon I too will be gone from the skies forever, and my tribe with me.' It hurt even more to say that, but Veritas felt in the marrow of his bones that it was the truth. It would not be long until the Ak-Baba hunted him down, for all he had done his best to stay hidden from them. When they found him, they would tear him to pieces as they had done his mother and tribe, and the dragons of the amethyst would be no more.
'You cannot say that,' Doran protested. 'No matter that the other dragons are slain, you are still here. If you are careful, surely you can survive.'
Oh, Dragonfriend. His eyes burned with determination, and hope, desperate to say or do something which would make this better. It warmed Veritas' heart to see how much he cared.
He had always been the best of the humans.
'I think not, Dragonfriend. My mother, my children, my friends are gone. I live now, but the Ak-Baba will come for me. I can feel it in my wings. They will not stop until no dragon flies our skies.'
Still, Doran persisted. But, however much he trusted him, Veritas could not take much heart out of his words. The reality could not be ignored any longer. He was the last remaining amethyst dragon; he would at the very end be hunted and destroyed by the Ak-Baba, if not the humans. It felt inevitable, a cloud of doom which Veritas could not escape. No matter what Doran said, he knew that soon no amethyst dragon would fly Deltora's skies.
It was during that visit that Veritas flew with Dragonfriend on his back for the last time. Amid the clouds, with the Sliver Sea shimmering far below them, they circled the coast, twisting and turning as only dragons could. It was a joy, to feel the wind rushing underneath his wings, the beautiful land that was the territory of the amethyst spread out before him. It was even more of a joy to be able to do so with Dragonfriend on his back. They landed amidst the Sleeping Dunes, and it was there that Doran left him to continue his travels. Veritas watched him go with a pang in his heart, and a feeling of intense loneliness. Once again, he was alone.
Veritas curled amid the dunes, and remembered. When Doran returned for what would be the last time, it was with a mission, an idea conjured out of desperation and the need to save the dragons he loved. It was a difficult thing, what Doran asked of him; the asking of it was just as painful. He could see it in Doran's steady, unwavering gaze and the hard set of his jaw. How Doran had garnered the courage to do it, he would never know.
'What you ask is hard, Dragonfriend.'
'Yes.'
'What of the other tribes? If I sleep, they will attack my territory. They have no scruples.' If they did attack, he would be helpless against them. Even if he had awakened from his sleep, he would still be too weak to fight back.
Doran shook his head. 'Not so. I have bound the dragons of the topaz, ruby, emerald, lapis lazuli and opal to a vow. They have sworn never to invade another dragon's territory while each dragon sleeps. They will honour the vow. I ask you now the same.'
Veritas felt the force of Doran's stare. It was heavier, filled with all the hope and desperation he had been carrying since he had set out on this mission to help his friends. Dragonfriend… If he truly believed that this was the only solution, that the other dragons would honour the promise they had made, who was he to argue otherwise? His entire tribe was in peril. Was it truly worth it to refuse Doran, just to safeguard his borders against the other dragon tribes?
Doran continued to hold his gaze, waiting. Finally, Veritas dipped his head, and heaved a sigh. 'Alright, Dragonfriend. I swear it. I will sleep, and if I wake I will not cross into any other territory while the dragon of that territory sleeps.'
'Thank you,' Doran said quietly.
And so it was that Veritas, the last of the amethyst dragons, found himself settling to sleep amidst the Dreaming Dunes, with Doran as a witness, to ensure the survival of his race. It was a fitting place to hide away while he dreamed and waited, he thought; the name itself was surely an indicator of it.
'Dragonfriend… Farewell. I will think of you in my dreams, and the good times we have shared.'
'Goodbye, Veritas, my true friend.'
Then, he closed his eyes… and heard Doran let out a shuddering breath, and thought, I am sorry, Dragonfriend, for our sacrifice. One day I will awaken, and we will fly together once more, as we have always done.
And then the darkness was upon him, and he was dreaming, of times past and a human with the heart of a dragon riding with familiar ease on the ridge of his back, the wind rushing past them as they circled the breadth of the land, reveling in all its glory. And, lost in sleep, the last dragon of the amethyst felt himself smile.
