Kilgharrah struggles to contact distant dragons but is confronted by Morgana about his neglect of Aithusa.
Chapter 14 A Dragon's Tale
Wind whipped around his golden, scaled armor, down his horned spine, across his great wings; it was neither cold nor comforting in the breaking light on his mountain perch. His home – though occupied by Aithusa and an unwanted guest – gave way to barrenness, his longing for skies now empty of his kind to one day be filled with them again. Morgana's presence an insult, his dragon calls going unanswered, nothing could hearten him in this moment, his fruitless effort only deepening his annoyance.
Attempting the call again, Kilgharrah closed his eyes, one word humming in his mind: "Anouilh." As familiar as his own breath yet foreign after so many years, it wasa greeting, a salutation shared only among dragons.
He hadn't uttered nor thought of the word in such a long time that he'd almost forgotten it. It'd been only a blink of time since the noble and somewhat troubled king had informed him some dragons had survived the purge – a heartbeat ago in his endless lifespan. To breathe the dragon tongue now gave him new purpose.
He pressed his thoughts outward. Dragon-speak had no range as far as he knew, much like the flight of the dragon itself – traveling great distances in an eye's wink. He'd stretched his mind to its boundaries seeking the other minds, reaching out with hope and resolve in many directions. No reply had come; still, it was a big world.
"Anouilh," he repeated with urgency.
Silence.
Breathing in fresh air, he opened his large golden eyes. The last stars in the west blinked out as eastern light crept slowly behind jagged mountain peaks, his vexation building. His claws gripped the rocky ledge; he yearned to believe that his kin still roamed some distant land. If they had escaped the purge, to where did they flee? Were they in some secret realm where nothing could touch them, not even their far-reaching dragon-speak? Or had they truly perished as everyone else believed?
His frustration mounting, his nostrils flared and giant wings fluttered against his side. "Perhaps, there is no power left in the word because there are no others alive to hear its call!"
A roar rumbled in his throat, his breast brightened with impending warning. Pockets of deadly gas simmered in swelling sacs of fire, ready to expel their flames. He should not rely upon the words of men. His faith in them had utterly diminished during the purge – in his twenty years of captivity. The human heart was corrupt and human words vile. Words had captured him – words had driven him to madness.
No.
Arthur was no mere man, nor Excalibur a mere sword. The prophecies rang true – this young king was destined for greatness, with the warlock and enchanted blade lighting the way. Together they would build a world of lasting peace. Dragons will return.
Kilgharrah inhaled, wrath evaporating as he exhaled wisps of smoke. He must not lose faith. Arthur spoke of dragons surviving somehow, against all odds. That fragile hope tempered his fury, cooling the fire smoldering within.
"The great king said it was so," he breathed, conviction in his words, his bitterness tamped down. He shifted his bulk and laid his head upon his forearms, his scales scraping against rock. He sighed. "What must I do? What am I not seeing?"
Kilgharrah watched the fading wisps of clouds, adrift having no purpose, his thoughts wandering as he pondered their transient nature. Forming then dissolving to nothingness, carried on invisible winds. Much like traveling the subtle currents of the aether itself.
He blinked, scales glinting. If one followed those ephemeral trails through the void, distance and even time itself unraveled. What mysteries or forgotten kin might one find wandering far enough?
He raised his head, resolve hardened like gemstones. The aether was unbounded, infinite – perhaps his calls simply hadn't traveled far enough. He would fly deeper, stay longer, pursue every filament and trail in the endless void.
"I must fly to distances and times I've never dreamt before," he declared.
Shifting on his hind legs, he spread his great wings and lifted into the air. In his periphery, he saw Morgana rushing out of the entrance of the cave mouth, Aithusa scurrying past her, squawking unremittingly at him. But his mountain disappeared in a flash.
The aether, an eerie darkness devoid of sound, allowed him to slip into its realm and travel along liquid gold filaments – wispy trails snaking out to guide travelers to destinations or the dragonlords' calls. For ancient dragons such as he, riding the glittering currents were nearly instant, even soothing. But for younger dragons, wandering astray from those golden threads left one lost forever in the dark infinities between space and time.
Kilgharrah hoped Aithusa did not try to follow. But now he must plunge far down forgotten filament-paths, his heart alight with tentative hope. If any dragon kin yet lingered out among unknown realities, he would search to the ends of time and space to find them.
Anouilh.
His mind wandered freely as he drifted through the infinite darkness alit with thousands of strands of gold, emitting hopeful greetings into the void. He pictured his lost kin soaring majestically through otherworldly skies on leathery wings. Perhaps they nested on distant and alien clifftops, guarding eggs that would hatch a new generation.
"Anouilh!" he called again … and again, straining to detect an answering whisper in the aether's endless emptiness. Yet only silence echoed in his mind, deep and profound.
Hours wore on, doubt long crept into Kilgharrah's thoughts. Surely, they could be reached here. What if Excalibur had misled Arthur? What if the news of surviving dragons was only a ploy by an idealistic man seeking to raise his hopes, then dash them? Anger simmered in his breast. Had he allowed himself to be made a fool once more by the race of men?
He called for home.
Kilgharrah came to rest on his perch outside the mountain cave as Aithusa bounced and squawked happily beside Morgana, a cloak around her shoulders and hood drawn. The scowl on her face and frown on her lips conveyed her displeasure as she approached him. He settled, tucking his wings, ignored her deepening frown.
"Where have you been?" she asked, her lips twitching. A gust of wind whipped over them and she quaked with cold. A chuckle rippled in his throat to see her shutter with discomfort while Aithusa chittered gleefully when the air lifted her off the cliff shelf.
"That is not your concern." His reply was gruff, his harmonics jarring her further and pleasing him to channel his frustration upon her. He crossed his arms and laid his head upon them.
"You disappear without a word for hours," she snapped, recovering quickly he noted from his and nature's harsh treatment of her. "When you leave me to care for your baby dragon, it then becomes my concern. You are neglecting her."
Bitterness seeped and spitefulness ebbed from the stark reality of her words. He raised his head, his gaze drifting to Aithusa. Before the hope that other dragons lived, she had been his purpose, for her very existence was a miracle he had not foreseen nor ever imagined. She would one day be a light for Camelot.
Yet, Merlin had spent little time with her, so all fell to him the teachings of the dragon way. It would be a few years before her vocals would develop – longer if Merlin continued neglecting his dragonlord duties. Her mind had already manifested emotions in an explosion of colors and images within his. He'd forgotten how beautiful and innocent young dragon minds were. He returned his gaze to Morgana.
"I know Arthur's revelation about other dragons is important to you," she said, her tone softer.
"I must seek them out," he bit out. "What else do you want?"
"I want is to return to civilization and be with my own kind, but I don't suppose that is going to happen." She inhaled sharply. "This is about Aithusa."
"What about her?" he asked brusquely.
Morgana shook with indignation, but her expression quickly softened. "She tries to follow you and disappears as well, Kilgharrah. I fear for her safety when she's gone."
Aithusa gleefully hopped and fluttered on another current of wind. Despite leaving her in Morgana's care, she appeared well nurtured and happy nonetheless. He tilted his head.
"You care for her," he said with astonishment, blinking slowly as revelation dawned within him.
Morgana's expression warmed as she looked at Aithusa. "I do. She's innocent in all this and deserves better."
Kilgharrah nodded, a slight softening in his amber eyes as he studied Morgana, considered her care for the hatchling. Though still guarded, her concern for Aithusa seemed genuine.
He hadn't cared whether Morgana ate, or had water, or was warm enough, but perhaps his resentment need not run so deep. She had restrained her scornful tongue in recent days, too. Could there be something deeper kindling behind her diminishing hostility? If she had opened her heart to Aithusa, might other goodness yet stir? She just called him by his name – a first. He inhaled softly, remained wary, uncertain of her motives. But he could not deny the subtle changes in her.
"I will teach her the ways of travel so she may one day join me in the search," he declared. "But she must grow stronger first."
Morgana's shoulders relaxed. She even smiled.
Hope still burned within Kilgharrah – he mustn't ignore Arthur's revelation. But Aithusa was the future, too – the first dragon to be born in over twenty years – as far as he knew. His search for the others must wait a while longer.
"I will remain here to train her," he said. Kilgharrah lowered his snout to nuzzle Aithusa, rumbling affectionately as she chittered. The young dragon then started nipping at his snout in play. Morgana nodded, satisfied, and returned inside the cave – Aithusa scurrying after.
Kilgharrah watched them go, then turned his gaze back to the horizon. The ache to find other dragons pulled at him. But ensuring Aithusa's safety and training was paramount. Though it could take years, when she was ready, they would scour the aether as one.
Until then, this mountain would remain home. For them all.