Dragon FoolRib was a young dragon unable to do anything when his sister was taken by a group of Huskhn men. Now, full-grown, he's determined to liberate her. But suddenly a plague strikes his beloved homeland and he sets out overseas with companions to save both man and dragon. As conflicts arise, Rib may have to choose between the hundreds of people who hardly know him and his very own sister.
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Prologue
“Can I have a beetle from your beard?” young Rib asked Damon, scrambling onto the wizard’s lap and placing both foreclaws upon his chest. On the old man’s chin, an abundance of long, steely hairs grew, forming a mass so knotted and thick, no insect guest could escape it. Even now, Rib could see a bug with legs curled, collecting dust within the depths of its matted tomb.
Rib stuck his snout in to sniff it.
Two, three days old?
The beetle’s shell was still intact, but the scent of rotting insides was unmistakable. Rib wanted to disentangle the treat himself, but such a delicate operation as that required hands.
Taking pointers from the pups he’d met under Tyrone’s supper table, Rib lifted his head and gazed into the Wizard’s eyes. The wagon they were in shook, but Rib’s talons were fastened tight in the old man’s tunic and he held his position adamantly.
“I’m saving that one,” the Wizard mumbled, nudging the little dragon off his legs onto the wooden seat beside him. “For a potion.”
“Aren’t there any others?” Rib complained, sitting up as the bumpy ride jostled him. Damon always had at least two beetles on his person.
“Ask me again when bog beetles are in season,” the Wizard answered, snapping the reins to make the horse trot faster.
Rib gave an unhappy puff of air through his nostrils before leaping over the backrest to join his sister. The cart jolted and Rib flailed his wings to keep from tumbling out the far end.
His sister, however, inexperienced with flying as of yet, was left clinging to the edge, her eyes wide. Rib rushed to help her, but she fell and hit the puddled road with a splat.
Nonetheless, she picked herself up and went bounding after them. One second she had her haunches gathered, and the next she was back in the cart, flecking Rib with mud as she landed in the bed.
Rib laughed and batted her dirty, lavender-grey muzzle, inviting her to scuffle. They tussled about, nearly throwing each other off at times, until, tired, they dragged themselves over to Damon. Rib crouched on the crooked bench, smiling when his sister curled up with her head against his wing.
Atop the Wizard’s head, a female wyvern gave a short whistle. She was a small dragon-like creature with a long tail, two leathery wings and taloned hind legs, but no forelegs. She was, in essence, the reptilian version of a hunting falcon with the habit of parroting whatever she heard, keeping certain things in memory to repeat even years later.
“Welcome to our castle, my bride,” she said in the voice of Tyrone, followed by a woman’s merry laugh.
Rib looked at the marble-white wyvern, intrigued by how the light caught in her red eyes.
“Why does Ivory imitate everyone all the time?” he asked as the wyvern took flight ahead of the cart.
“It’s what she does,” Damon mumbled.
They rode on over grassy slopes for a while in silence. At some point, Rib nosed a bag tied to the Wizard’s waist, but was told to stop.
He sighed. This is taking so long. How far back was it when we crossed the Swaine? A feeling of apprehension came over Rib and he looked at his sister, remembering their mentor’s words, ‘Don’t wander into the kingdom alone.’
“Tide wouldn’t be mad at us for coming along with Damon, would he?” he whispered. “No one stopped us from getting into the cart…”
His little sister just gazed back at him. Speaking was a skill she still hadn’t mastered, but Tide said there was plenty of time for her to do that and choose a name for herself in the seasons to come. Rib cocked his head at her.
What name will she choose? he wondered. Maybe she’ll hear one she likes today!
“Where are we going?” Rib asked the Wizard.
“Cliffport.”
“What’s that?”
“A place where humans from all over the world go.”
That’s sounds exciting!
“Why are we going there?” Rib inquired further.
“I need a special ingredient.”
A place where people all over the world go to buy ingredients…
Rib stared up the road, excitement building as they neared the crest of a hill. A quiet sound met his ears, like a crash and a whoosh repeating, one after the other. In the distance, birds made a raucous.
“Sister, look!” Rib exclaimed the moment he could see over the hill. Far off, green land led into a deep stripe of blue that stretched all the way into the sky. “The ocean!”
At one spot where land met the sea, Rib saw a collection of houses. Small and crammed together, they reminded him of nothing like Tyrone’s hunting lodge in the forest. Beyond them, a number of objects, large and small, floated in the ocean with bare tree trunks sticking high up.
“What are those things swimming in the water?” Rib asked Damon.
“Ships.”
Ships.
Noises of people and activity grew ever louder as they drew near. Rib’s claws dug up splinters in the wood as excitement came over him. By the time they entered town, he was clambering in circles, trying to see in every direction at once. Everything was so lively! Humans by the dozens streamed past, some of them starting in surprise when they noticed him springing about in the cart.
Smells of meat and smoke and muck graced Rib’s snout. The air of festivities got under his scales, thrilling him like the moment he’d snag a bird, or leap from a boulder.
His sister flinched when he returned to her side, laughing breathlessly.
A dog came barking alongside the cart and both of them retreated a little, peering down at the loud animal. His sister looked especially frightened and Rib nuzzled her with the crown of his head, reassuring.
“Someday,” he promised, “we’ll be big and nothing will scare us.”
To his relief, the dog loped away at the sound of a man’s whistle, disappearing into the crowds.
Rib peered up at each face they passed.
Everyone here looks so different from each other, he observed. Their manes, their mouths, the color of their hides…
A group of dusky-skinned men caught his attention and he admired their black hair and muscular builds. Among them, a tall boy with shoulders so broad they made his hips look narrow in comparison looked right back at Rib, stepping out into the street to stare after him. Rib thought it an appropriate time to wave as humans did, if only he had the hands to do so.
Reaching the heart of the town, Damon reined in the horse to bring the cart to a halt where people lined the street, holding up items and calling out offers.
Rib watched attentively as the Wizard climbed down from the cart and pulled a rolled piece of parchment from his pocket to show a nearby merchant.
“Do you sell these?”
Rib saw something drawn on the unraveled scroll. Pictures often confused Rib, but this one he thought looked like a plant of sorts.
The merchant gave it one look and sneered. “I’m no Huskhn. Go ask them.”
The next person Damon asked was little more help than the first. “That comes at a high price,” she said. “Get crowned as King and then we’ll talk.”
“He’s leaving us!” Rib told his sister as the Wizard traveled further down the street, talking to one merchant after another. “Come on!”
Standing up on the edge of the cart and spreading his bat-like wings, Rib stared after Damon and launched off. It took him a moment to get his wings beating hard enough, but he did so with determination.
Is she coming?
Looking back, Rib saw that his sister had made no move to join him, but was watching anxiously from the cart.
“I’ll be right back!” he called to her, then brought his eyes forward to see where he was going. People stopped and stared as he flew past low to the ground. Just when he came up to hover beside Damon, Ivory, the wyvern, came and alighted on the Wizard’s arm.
“Do you know that person, good sir?” she said in the voice of a young man. “Him, with the dragons?”
Who’s she mimicking now? Rib thought.
Damon seemed to be wondering the same thing, for he peered at Ivory and then at the people all around. His eyes landed on someone and Rib followed his gaze to see the tall boy from earlier heading their way.
What does he want? Rib became uneasy when he noticed three big men following behind the adolescent like personal guards. Landing on Damon’s back, the little dragon peered over the Wizard’s shoulder as the strangers stopped in front of them. The face of one of the guards, he noticed, drooped on one side, framed by black twisted locks of hair. Rib ran his wide eyes over both the other full grown men, unnerved by their brutish features.
“What’s this, old man?” the adolescent asked, taking the scroll from Damon’s hands to see the drawing. “Looking to buy the Royal Well? Don’t you know they’re native to Husk?”
Damon cleared his throat. “Yes, I know.”
The Wizard straighten up a bit, which reminded Rib of how his prey would try to make itself look bigger right before he pounced on it.
The boy smiled. “They’re rare, too. I should know.” He stuck out his hand to the Wizard. “I’m Zheal, nephew of the Huskhn Chief and Heir to the Throne.”
Damon shook Zheal’s hand silently. Rib took note of the boy’s white, splotched leather gloves.
What’s the ‘Huskhn Chief’? And why is his nephew so interested in Damon?
“Well,” said Zheal, still holding Damon’s scroll as he stared him hard in the face, “I couldn’t help but notice you have the Eyes of Kings. Of course, you can see I do too.”
Still, Damon said nothing. Rib was starting to get the feel that something was very wrong.
Zheal didn’t seem to mind the Wizard’s silence. He just turned the scroll over in his hands, appearing taken aback when he saw the other side of blank parchment. At least, to Rib it looked blank.
Why does he keep staring at it like that? he wondered. He can’t be reading, can he? Didn’t Tyrone say there have to be little marks on the page for that?
“This…” Zheal murmured, scanning the parchment with increasing interest. He looked up. “This is how you get dragons to follow you?”
Suddenly, the tall boy’s eyes were fixed on Rib, whose scales raised in alarm. Damon flexed his shoulders slightly, prickled by the dragon’s bristling hide.
“What an interesting color that one is,” said Zheal, a strange note in his voice. “I wonder, how big will he grow? No doubt he’ll be strong someday.”
“Get Tyrone,” the Wizard spoke low to Ivory, sending her off with a thrust of his arm.
Zheal lifted his head to watch the wyvern fly away. “They obey you?” With a grin, he glanced down at the scroll once more before rolling it up and sticking it under his vest. Then he spoke to his guards, who stepped towards Damon.
The Wizard backed away towards the cart.
At this, Zheal gave a loud command in a language Rib didn’t understand and a cry sounded behind them.
What?! Rib swiveled his head around just in time to see his sister be snatched up from the cart by two men.
Sister!
He barely glimpsed her terrified face before she was shoved into a sack.
“Fly home!” Damon wrenched Rib off his back and propelled him into the air, just as Zheal’s guards lunged for him.
“Damon!” Rib cried.
Jumping back from the men, Damon threw something on the ground. With a crack like thunder, the object blinded Rib in a succession of flashes and he pointed his snout for home, flying away quick as he could.
In a few moments, his sight had recovered and he looked back to see that Damon was gone and Zheal’s men were chasing after him instead.
The droopy faced one had just stolen a horse. He now galloped ahead of the group, gaining on Rib, who rose higher into the air to avoid collision with a house. It strained his wings to beat them so hard, but Rib pressed on faster still.
What do I do? he panicked. They took my sister! Damon’s gone!
I need help!
Speeding over pointed roofs and busy people in the streets, Rib soon escaped the town. Looking below, he saw no one except the horse thief still coming after him, racing across the green fields.
The horse was swift and brought its rider directly underneath Rib at times. All Rib had to do was look down and there was the man, fifteen feet below him, dark locks jouncing about, determined eyes fixed on him. Though half of the Huskhn’s face remained limp, the other half glowered up at the terrified dragon.
Using his flight to his advantage, Rib took the direct route, over big hills and bouldered areas. In this way, he was able to get ahead, but his chest and wings ached so much he had to stop and rest, heaving for breath until the man on the horse came into view again.
Almost there, Rib thought, his strength waning as he took to the air once more. He felt like he was going to be sick.
At last, Swaine River appeared on the horizon and Rib fixed his wings for what he hoped to be the last stretch.
He won’t follow me over the bridge! Rib determined, soaring over the large obstacle. Strangers never cross it.
But to his dismay, the rider pursued without pause, clattering over the stone structure in seconds. Rib stared wildly ahead of him at the fields and forests, searching for safety. He felt himself losing elevation as he headed for a tall tree in the distance.
“Help,” he cried. “Tide! Tyrone!”
He could barely raise his wings for another beat, let alone bring them down with enough force to hold him up. He was just now spending the last of his energy and it was time to choose what to put it towards- another beat higher or another beat farther.
But then, he noticed something.
The ground…
It looked strange. White and fluffy.
What?!
Right as the horse’s hooves came battering over, a giant cloud of tiny bodies rose up, spooking the steed. Rearing, the horse threw off its rider and fled.
Muffle moths!
Rib recognized the living mass of powdery insects that engulfed him and the man. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to hold his breath, but the motion of his wings forced air in and out of his flaring nostrils as the moths flocked around him.
Through the flux of insects, he saw the man try to get up, cough, and fall back to the ground.
Oh no…
Again and again Rib was forced to breathe in the thick, magical moth dust, growing all the while sluggish in his frenzy to get away. Eventually, the most he could do was fix his wings open to glide. But even in doing this, his muscles began to relax and his body went limp.
The insects cleared and Rib watched the ground come up to meet him. He barely managed to tuck in his wings and turn his head to the side before impact.
Grass, pebbles, and dirt all went flying as he crashed and tumbled to a stop. There he lay, utterly numb, his head having ended up tucked under his wing. All Rib could see was the soft turf before his eyes and sunlight bleeding through the leather of his wing.
Am I hurt?
He couldn’t tell; there was no feeling in his body whatsoever. His neck strained as he tried to look himself over, but he didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t move. Even his heart was too languorous to race as fast as it had been moments before the moth’s dust filled his lungs.
Help, he cried inside as his eyes slid involuntarily closed. He imagined his sister, suffocating in the sack she’d been put in.
The most he could do was inhale, exhale. Inhale, and exhale. Steady breaths that passed through his teeth and slightly parted lips.
He kept this up until finally, “Little one…”
A female spoke, sounding muffled as though Rib were submerged in water, but he recognized it was Tyrone’s wife, Theora.
“You’re alright, you’re alright.”
Am I? Rib had the distant sensation of being picked up…perhaps held close. He couldn’t be sure. His heavy eyelids refused to lift, even as the woman asked him to respond.
My sister! Rib wanted to tell her, but his tongue was dead in his mouth.
They took her…
“Can I have a beetle from your beard?” young Rib asked Damon, scrambling onto the wizard’s lap and placing both foreclaws upon his chest. On the old man’s chin, an abundance of long, steely hairs grew, forming a mass so knotted and thick, no insect guest could escape it. Even now, Rib could see a bug with legs curled, collecting dust within the depths of its matted tomb.
Rib stuck his snout in to sniff it.
Two, three days old?
The beetle’s shell was still intact, but the scent of rotting insides was unmistakable. Rib wanted to disentangle the treat himself, but such a delicate operation as that required hands.
Taking pointers from the pups he’d met under Tyrone’s supper table, Rib lifted his head and gazed into the Wizard’s eyes. The wagon they were in shook, but Rib’s talons were fastened tight in the old man’s tunic and he held his position adamantly.
“I’m saving that one,” the Wizard mumbled, nudging the little dragon off his legs onto the wooden seat beside him. “For a potion.”
“Aren’t there any others?” Rib complained, sitting up as the bumpy ride jostled him. Damon always had at least two beetles on his person.
“Ask me again when bog beetles are in season,” the Wizard answered, snapping the reins to make the horse trot faster.
Rib gave an unhappy puff of air through his nostrils before leaping over the backrest to join his sister. The cart jolted and Rib flailed his wings to keep from tumbling out the far end.
His sister, however, inexperienced with flying as of yet, was left clinging to the edge, her eyes wide. Rib rushed to help her, but she fell and hit the puddled road with a splat.
Nonetheless, she picked herself up and went bounding after them. One second she had her haunches gathered, and the next she was back in the cart, flecking Rib with mud as she landed in the bed.
Rib laughed and batted her dirty, lavender-grey muzzle, inviting her to scuffle. They tussled about, nearly throwing each other off at times, until, tired, they dragged themselves over to Damon. Rib crouched on the crooked bench, smiling when his sister curled up with her head against his wing.
Atop the Wizard’s head, a female wyvern gave a short whistle. She was a small dragon-like creature with a long tail, two leathery wings and taloned hind legs, but no forelegs. She was, in essence, the reptilian version of a hunting falcon with the habit of parroting whatever she heard, keeping certain things in memory to repeat even years later.
“Welcome to our castle, my bride,” she said in the voice of Tyrone, followed by a woman’s merry laugh.
Rib looked at the marble-white wyvern, intrigued by how the light caught in her red eyes.
“Why does Ivory imitate everyone all the time?” he asked as the wyvern took flight ahead of the cart.
“It’s what she does,” Damon mumbled.
They rode on over grassy slopes for a while in silence. At some point, Rib nosed a bag tied to the Wizard’s waist, but was told to stop.
He sighed. This is taking so long. How far back was it when we crossed the Swaine? A feeling of apprehension came over Rib and he looked at his sister, remembering their mentor’s words, ‘Don’t wander into the kingdom alone.’
“Tide wouldn’t be mad at us for coming along with Damon, would he?” he whispered. “No one stopped us from getting into the cart…”
His little sister just gazed back at him. Speaking was a skill she still hadn’t mastered, but Tide said there was plenty of time for her to do that and choose a name for herself in the seasons to come. Rib cocked his head at her.
What name will she choose? he wondered. Maybe she’ll hear one she likes today!
“Where are we going?” Rib asked the Wizard.
“Cliffport.”
“What’s that?”
“A place where humans from all over the world go.”
That’s sounds exciting!
“Why are we going there?” Rib inquired further.
“I need a special ingredient.”
A place where people all over the world go to buy ingredients…
Rib stared up the road, excitement building as they neared the crest of a hill. A quiet sound met his ears, like a crash and a whoosh repeating, one after the other. In the distance, birds made a raucous.
“Sister, look!” Rib exclaimed the moment he could see over the hill. Far off, green land led into a deep stripe of blue that stretched all the way into the sky. “The ocean!”
At one spot where land met the sea, Rib saw a collection of houses. Small and crammed together, they reminded him of nothing like Tyrone’s hunting lodge in the forest. Beyond them, a number of objects, large and small, floated in the ocean with bare tree trunks sticking high up.
“What are those things swimming in the water?” Rib asked Damon.
“Ships.”
Ships.
Noises of people and activity grew ever louder as they drew near. Rib’s claws dug up splinters in the wood as excitement came over him. By the time they entered town, he was clambering in circles, trying to see in every direction at once. Everything was so lively! Humans by the dozens streamed past, some of them starting in surprise when they noticed him springing about in the cart.
Smells of meat and smoke and muck graced Rib’s snout. The air of festivities got under his scales, thrilling him like the moment he’d snag a bird, or leap from a boulder.
His sister flinched when he returned to her side, laughing breathlessly.
A dog came barking alongside the cart and both of them retreated a little, peering down at the loud animal. His sister looked especially frightened and Rib nuzzled her with the crown of his head, reassuring.
“Someday,” he promised, “we’ll be big and nothing will scare us.”
To his relief, the dog loped away at the sound of a man’s whistle, disappearing into the crowds.
Rib peered up at each face they passed.
Everyone here looks so different from each other, he observed. Their manes, their mouths, the color of their hides…
A group of dusky-skinned men caught his attention and he admired their black hair and muscular builds. Among them, a tall boy with shoulders so broad they made his hips look narrow in comparison looked right back at Rib, stepping out into the street to stare after him. Rib thought it an appropriate time to wave as humans did, if only he had the hands to do so.
Reaching the heart of the town, Damon reined in the horse to bring the cart to a halt where people lined the street, holding up items and calling out offers.
Rib watched attentively as the Wizard climbed down from the cart and pulled a rolled piece of parchment from his pocket to show a nearby merchant.
“Do you sell these?”
Rib saw something drawn on the unraveled scroll. Pictures often confused Rib, but this one he thought looked like a plant of sorts.
The merchant gave it one look and sneered. “I’m no Huskhn. Go ask them.”
The next person Damon asked was little more help than the first. “That comes at a high price,” she said. “Get crowned as King and then we’ll talk.”
“He’s leaving us!” Rib told his sister as the Wizard traveled further down the street, talking to one merchant after another. “Come on!”
Standing up on the edge of the cart and spreading his bat-like wings, Rib stared after Damon and launched off. It took him a moment to get his wings beating hard enough, but he did so with determination.
Is she coming?
Looking back, Rib saw that his sister had made no move to join him, but was watching anxiously from the cart.
“I’ll be right back!” he called to her, then brought his eyes forward to see where he was going. People stopped and stared as he flew past low to the ground. Just when he came up to hover beside Damon, Ivory, the wyvern, came and alighted on the Wizard’s arm.
“Do you know that person, good sir?” she said in the voice of a young man. “Him, with the dragons?”
Who’s she mimicking now? Rib thought.
Damon seemed to be wondering the same thing, for he peered at Ivory and then at the people all around. His eyes landed on someone and Rib followed his gaze to see the tall boy from earlier heading their way.
What does he want? Rib became uneasy when he noticed three big men following behind the adolescent like personal guards. Landing on Damon’s back, the little dragon peered over the Wizard’s shoulder as the strangers stopped in front of them. The face of one of the guards, he noticed, drooped on one side, framed by black twisted locks of hair. Rib ran his wide eyes over both the other full grown men, unnerved by their brutish features.
“What’s this, old man?” the adolescent asked, taking the scroll from Damon’s hands to see the drawing. “Looking to buy the Royal Well? Don’t you know they’re native to Husk?”
Damon cleared his throat. “Yes, I know.”
The Wizard straighten up a bit, which reminded Rib of how his prey would try to make itself look bigger right before he pounced on it.
The boy smiled. “They’re rare, too. I should know.” He stuck out his hand to the Wizard. “I’m Zheal, nephew of the Huskhn Chief and Heir to the Throne.”
Damon shook Zheal’s hand silently. Rib took note of the boy’s white, splotched leather gloves.
What’s the ‘Huskhn Chief’? And why is his nephew so interested in Damon?
“Well,” said Zheal, still holding Damon’s scroll as he stared him hard in the face, “I couldn’t help but notice you have the Eyes of Kings. Of course, you can see I do too.”
Still, Damon said nothing. Rib was starting to get the feel that something was very wrong.
Zheal didn’t seem to mind the Wizard’s silence. He just turned the scroll over in his hands, appearing taken aback when he saw the other side of blank parchment. At least, to Rib it looked blank.
Why does he keep staring at it like that? he wondered. He can’t be reading, can he? Didn’t Tyrone say there have to be little marks on the page for that?
“This…” Zheal murmured, scanning the parchment with increasing interest. He looked up. “This is how you get dragons to follow you?”
Suddenly, the tall boy’s eyes were fixed on Rib, whose scales raised in alarm. Damon flexed his shoulders slightly, prickled by the dragon’s bristling hide.
“What an interesting color that one is,” said Zheal, a strange note in his voice. “I wonder, how big will he grow? No doubt he’ll be strong someday.”
“Get Tyrone,” the Wizard spoke low to Ivory, sending her off with a thrust of his arm.
Zheal lifted his head to watch the wyvern fly away. “They obey you?” With a grin, he glanced down at the scroll once more before rolling it up and sticking it under his vest. Then he spoke to his guards, who stepped towards Damon.
The Wizard backed away towards the cart.
At this, Zheal gave a loud command in a language Rib didn’t understand and a cry sounded behind them.
What?! Rib swiveled his head around just in time to see his sister be snatched up from the cart by two men.
Sister!
He barely glimpsed her terrified face before she was shoved into a sack.
“Fly home!” Damon wrenched Rib off his back and propelled him into the air, just as Zheal’s guards lunged for him.
“Damon!” Rib cried.
Jumping back from the men, Damon threw something on the ground. With a crack like thunder, the object blinded Rib in a succession of flashes and he pointed his snout for home, flying away quick as he could.
In a few moments, his sight had recovered and he looked back to see that Damon was gone and Zheal’s men were chasing after him instead.
The droopy faced one had just stolen a horse. He now galloped ahead of the group, gaining on Rib, who rose higher into the air to avoid collision with a house. It strained his wings to beat them so hard, but Rib pressed on faster still.
What do I do? he panicked. They took my sister! Damon’s gone!
I need help!
Speeding over pointed roofs and busy people in the streets, Rib soon escaped the town. Looking below, he saw no one except the horse thief still coming after him, racing across the green fields.
The horse was swift and brought its rider directly underneath Rib at times. All Rib had to do was look down and there was the man, fifteen feet below him, dark locks jouncing about, determined eyes fixed on him. Though half of the Huskhn’s face remained limp, the other half glowered up at the terrified dragon.
Using his flight to his advantage, Rib took the direct route, over big hills and bouldered areas. In this way, he was able to get ahead, but his chest and wings ached so much he had to stop and rest, heaving for breath until the man on the horse came into view again.
Almost there, Rib thought, his strength waning as he took to the air once more. He felt like he was going to be sick.
At last, Swaine River appeared on the horizon and Rib fixed his wings for what he hoped to be the last stretch.
He won’t follow me over the bridge! Rib determined, soaring over the large obstacle. Strangers never cross it.
But to his dismay, the rider pursued without pause, clattering over the stone structure in seconds. Rib stared wildly ahead of him at the fields and forests, searching for safety. He felt himself losing elevation as he headed for a tall tree in the distance.
“Help,” he cried. “Tide! Tyrone!”
He could barely raise his wings for another beat, let alone bring them down with enough force to hold him up. He was just now spending the last of his energy and it was time to choose what to put it towards- another beat higher or another beat farther.
But then, he noticed something.
The ground…
It looked strange. White and fluffy.
What?!
Right as the horse’s hooves came battering over, a giant cloud of tiny bodies rose up, spooking the steed. Rearing, the horse threw off its rider and fled.
Muffle moths!
Rib recognized the living mass of powdery insects that engulfed him and the man. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to hold his breath, but the motion of his wings forced air in and out of his flaring nostrils as the moths flocked around him.
Through the flux of insects, he saw the man try to get up, cough, and fall back to the ground.
Oh no…
Again and again Rib was forced to breathe in the thick, magical moth dust, growing all the while sluggish in his frenzy to get away. Eventually, the most he could do was fix his wings open to glide. But even in doing this, his muscles began to relax and his body went limp.
The insects cleared and Rib watched the ground come up to meet him. He barely managed to tuck in his wings and turn his head to the side before impact.
Grass, pebbles, and dirt all went flying as he crashed and tumbled to a stop. There he lay, utterly numb, his head having ended up tucked under his wing. All Rib could see was the soft turf before his eyes and sunlight bleeding through the leather of his wing.
Am I hurt?
He couldn’t tell; there was no feeling in his body whatsoever. His neck strained as he tried to look himself over, but he didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t move. Even his heart was too languorous to race as fast as it had been moments before the moth’s dust filled his lungs.
Help, he cried inside as his eyes slid involuntarily closed. He imagined his sister, suffocating in the sack she’d been put in.
The most he could do was inhale, exhale. Inhale, and exhale. Steady breaths that passed through his teeth and slightly parted lips.
He kept this up until finally, “Little one…”
A female spoke, sounding muffled as though Rib were submerged in water, but he recognized it was Tyrone’s wife, Theora.
“You’re alright, you’re alright.”
Am I? Rib had the distant sensation of being picked up…perhaps held close. He couldn’t be sure. His heavy eyelids refused to lift, even as the woman asked him to respond.
My sister! Rib wanted to tell her, but his tongue was dead in his mouth.
They took her…
Chapter 1
“She’s alive?” Rib swayed dangerously on his feet, breath coming in short.
“Whoa, hey,” Gavin, a young Eristad man, stood in front of him, hands up as though to steady the dragon. “Yes, she’s alive. Everyone’s talking about her.”
My sister…alive after all this time…my little sister…
“Where is she?” Rib croaked.
Gavin leaned against the wall of the Salten Gust Inn, arms folded. “I can’t be sure,” he answered. “But recently sailors have been saying they’ve seen her with Zheal at ports all across the seas. Say she’s big, too. Some call her twice the size of a horse, but I’m guessing that’s just some bard’s inflated tale. Should be about the same size as you, shouldn’t she?”
Rib couldn’t answer. He hadn’t heard a thing about his sister since she was stolen away from him five years ago. Now, a hundred questions of his own built up inside his throat, choking his words.
What has she been doing?
Will she come here?
Could I see her?
“Hey, you with me?” Gavin asked, waving to him.
Rib blinked, focusing his eyes on the twenty-two year old man, who laughed lightly at him. Tight curly hair, dark grey skin, winning smile. This was the friend that so often made Rib feel like life was good, even when people ran from him in fear or when hunting conditions were poor.
But with this sudden news of his sister, he felt as though his entire world had changed.
“What- what have you heard about her?” he barely managed to get out.
Gavin sighed. “They say Zheal takes her around the world, searching for a wizard.”
“He takes her everywhere with him?” Rib blurted, increasingly disturbed.
His friend shrugged. “By the sound of it.”
It’s like she’s Zheal’s slave.
Slowly, Rib’s shock withered away, replaced with something far heavier. It was the sick feeling he got whenever he remembered his sister’s face as she was shoved into a sack. Except now he knew she was still out there. Too big for a sack, no doubt, but still the captive of wicked men. This state of old pain blossomed afresh, like reopening a wound.
“Have you heard any mention of chains?” he asked, sensing his emotions ready to flood. “Do they say she has to drag around a weighted yoke with shackles around her feet? Do they say her mouth is bound shut? Do they say-” He stopped, realizing he didn’t even want to know the answers to his questions. It was just his way of imagining the worst out loud, so others could feel as he felt.
“Rib,” Gavin said, reaching out to rest his hand on Rib’s muzzle. “They haven’t said any of those things. There was only talk of a saddle. She carries Zheal on her back.”
“She carries him?!” Rib burst out.
Gavin nodded, his expression grim. “He calls her Tairg, the name of a legendary Huskhn warrior woman.”
“What?” Rib cried. “He can’t choose her name!”
My sister…she didn’t even get to name herself before she was taken.
And now Zheal’s done it for her.
Rib fell silent, miserable as he studied the cold ground. His eyes fell on small rock dislodged from its hole in the dirt.
“I left her in the cart,” he grieved. “Alone…so easy for those men to take.”
Rib had spoken this fear before, the fear that his sister’s capture was his fault. People usually gave him the same type of response. ‘There was nothing you could do.’ ‘Don’t blame yourself.’
Gavin just stayed quiet.
“There was another thing,” he said after a while.
Rib lifted his weary head.
“There have been Huskhns looking for the Wizard Damon.”
“Damon?” Rib echoed, his voice hollow. “What do they want from him?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling Zheal sent them.”
That’s right, Rib realized, eyes opening wider. If Zheal’s looking for a wizard then…
“Do you think he might bring my sister here?” he asked with his heart pattering. “In search of Damon?”
The corner of Gavin’s mouth pulled to the side in an expression of uncertainty. “Wouldn’t he have come here immediately if he were planning to at all? I almost wonder if he’s avoiding Wystil.”
“But why?” Rib implored. “He knows a wizard lives here. What’s keeping him away?”
Gavin shrugged. “Maybe he’s afraid.” The young man laughed. “There are a number of rumors that could be keeping him away.”
Rib gave a groan. His sister was alive, but out of reach. He had no way of getting to her.
And no name to call her by, he lamented, his eyes returning to the pointless, displaced rock again. Not Tairg. Never Tairg.
At that moment, five dog-like dragon beasts came tearing around the corner, pressing in on them and leaping up in excitement. Gavin’s laugh as he tried to calm the monigons did little to lift Rib’s spirits.
A monigon voiced its raspy bark at Rib, but he refused its invitation to play, irritated when it nipped at his legs and tail.
“Gavin, your lumpish hounds got into the zikkerwheat loft!”
Jasper, a boy of about twelve, came around the same bend as the monigons to jab a finger at the young man’s chest. The top of his head, covered with black tousled locks, barely reached Gavin’s shoulder, but he stood erect and bold, as though unaware of his small size.
“They scattered it all over the ground!”
“Aw.” Gavin grinned at the boy, then crouched down to scratch an expectant monigon’s chin and spoke to it fondly. “Sounds like I have a mess to clean up because of you.”
“It could be ruined!”
Gavin stood back up and headed towards the stables, waving his hand dismissively. “A little dust never hurt.”
Jasper shut his mouth in a scowl, watching Gavin disappear through the doorway with his monigons bounding after him. Rib couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over Jasper’s undeveloped right hand, all five of its fingers short and curled, when suddenly the child turned to look at him.
“When are you going to take me flying?” he demanded. “Let’s go now. Father doesn’t have to know.”
Rib turned his head from the boy’s challenging stare. “No, Jasper.”
“Come on,” the boy insisted, grabbing a hold of Rib’s wing as though to drag him to the coast. “I don’t need a saddle.”
Shed it. Rib became annoyed. I don’t want to put up with this. Not with the news of my sister.
He tried to tug his wing out of Jasper’s grasp but the child held on so tight that Rib’s tugging nearly made him fall over.
As if somehow alerted by his son’s sudden mischief, Mortaug emerged from the inn, the drooping side of his face adding to his stern expression.
Good. Rib was relieved at the sight of his Huskhn friend. Let him deal with Jasper.
Mortaug’s rough, grey locks swept over his shoulders as he approached his son with a series of hand motions. Rib always had trouble understanding the man’s silent language, unable to distinguish each gesture of his hands, but he could tell Jasper was being scolded.
“I can ride him just fine, Father!” the boy protested, still holding onto Rib’s wing. “I know I can!”
Jasper’s confidence was admirable, made even more impressive when considering his deformed hand.
Enough of this. Rib pulled his wing from the boy’s other hand’s grasp and began to walk away. I don’t want to be here anymore.
Jasper turned to him immediately. “Wait, Rib! We’ll fly over the port for everyone to see.”
Mortaug turned the boy roughly by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Rib took the opportunity to leave.
If only Mortaug hadn’t lost his voice to the moths, he thought grievously, moving far up a hill and towards the coastline. Then he’d still be a captain and he could take me to my sister.
But if the moths never swarmed us, then Damon would never have saved his life, Rib processed. So Mortaug wouldn’t have had the heart to help me at all.
The irony was harrowing.
- - - - -
The coast looked beautiful in the light of the morn, but Rib barely took notice of it, once again wading through murky thoughts and memories of his little sister stolen away from him at such a young age.
The ships that morning were docked at Cliffport, all except for one vessel that braved the choppy waters. Rib studied it from a distance as it passed.
Huskhn craft.
Gavin had taught him how to identify such boats by their long, shallow bodies and decorative prows. This one’s wing, or sail as humans called them, billowed with the wind, the picture on it seemingly expanding. Pain jabbed through Rib’s heart as he recognized the illustration was one of a dragon.
Did they put my sister on a ship like that when they took her? They must have…she was gone by the time Tyrone got to the port.
The Huskhn ship was just now sailing around a bend in the cliffs, escaping Rib’s somber gaze. With a heavy sigh, he rested his chin on the lumpy rock underneath him.
It didn’t take long for sadness to lull him to sleep, and he dreamt of creeping into a bright marble hall. He wasn’t even sure how he knew what it was, for he had never been in such a room. A great number of pillars, smooth all around, surrounded him and on the spotless floor he noticed a pattern of crevices.
Each crevice was a hard line cut into stone filled to the brim with water, not one overflowing. Gazing ahead, he saw that the chiseled cracks all led to something. The light in his dream was too glaring for him to see, and so he looked down at his foreclaws and followed a crevice towards it.
He became aware of a pleasant sound, like that of a small waterfall. Finally, he stopped before a basin at the far end of the hall with notches in its rim. Spilling out the notches, water dribbled down the side of the basin to feed into each and every crevice in the floor.
Streaming into the basin was a small flow of water that fell from the top of a stout wall. Over this wall was a stone arch through which Rib could see the outside. But he did not focus so much on this, for, crouching inside the opening was his sister. With one foreclaw, she batted at the falling water as playfully as a frisk, the same size as he remembered her.
It’s you, Rib breathed and she looked up at him. Where have you been? I’ve missed you.
The lavender grey dragon said nothing, though she blinked curiously at him.
Whether the outside began to brighten or the hall darken, Rib could not tell, but his sister was fading from his sight.
Wait! he cried. What can I call you by?
His sister’s mouth did not move, but like a melody from the dream world came the answer:
Memory.
Rib stirred as a wintry wind hit him head on, splitting over his wings, and he opened his eyes slowly. Though his vision was blurred from sleep, he could see a form gliding in the air. Rib tried to get his eyes to focus, hopes of realized dreams taking over him when he realized it was a dragon soaring over the ocean.
Sister?!
Rib leapt to his feet. Now he could see the sky was stunningly brilliant, its bounteous clouds bursting with light. The dragon flew about in the distance and sun beams illuminated the true color of its hide.
No, it’s…
Tide. Rib was disappointed to identify the dragon as his old mentor. The somewhat small, teal colored dragon searched below him like a falcon, until he pulled his wings in for a dive. Rib watched as Tide penetrated the water with a splash only to ascend again with a silvery pink fish in his jaws.
On any other day, Rib would be tempted to join him, but sorrow, like mortar, fixed him to the spot where he lay.
It appeared that Tide had spotted him there, for the dragon now headed for him, beating his colorful wings lightly on the easy draft.
“Hey, Rib,” he greeted him. With calculated precision, he alighted beside him on the scarp. “I could spot you anywhere with that vibrant hide of yours.”
“Yeah,” Rib exhaled, half-closed eyes still staring out over the horizon. “You and the few other dragons here.”
“Hmm.”
Rib could hear Tide scratch out a hollow for himself and then lie down.
“I’ve known that tone since you were a pupil. What’s wrong?”
Not bothering to lift his head, but shifting to face his mentor, Rib told him everything he’d heard about his sister. Just speaking the words made him feel worse.
Like Gavin, Tide liked to stay quiet for a while before responding. Often times, Rib had trouble waiting patiently, but now he just turned his gaze back to the ocean and stewed in returned misery.
“I suspected she was still out there,” Tide finally spoke. “But to hear it for certain is a relief all the same.”
“Relief?” Rib echoed. “What relief is there to know my sister’s a slave?”
Tide gave a sigh. “You’re right,” he said. “How foolish of me to think your sister could ever be helped.”
“What?” Rib’s eyes opened wider and he looked to his mentor. “How can you say that?”
“I’m only agreeing with you,” Tide pointed out. “Feels good to give in, doesn’t it?”
Rib became flustered as he tried to defend himself. “I’m not giving in! There’s just nothing I can do.”
“Perhaps not yet, but don’t think it will always be that way. Otherwise, chances will pass you by like fish under the ice.”
Tide’s words made Rib remember the frustration he once felt as a young frisk, skidding over a frozen lake as he tried to catch the shapes darting just beneath the surface.
I could smash through that ice now, he grumbled inwardly. What small problems I had back then.
“Speaking of fish,” Tide said, standing up and shaking himself of the moss bits that clung to his scales. “Right now is a great time to go diving for some. Come join me. I think you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“How could I?” Rib questioned, bitter. “My sister has nothing to enjoy.”
“Rib…” Tide shook his head. “Base your happiness on the happiness of others and you’ll never smile again. There’s a time to mourn together and a time to live. Now come, I insist.”
“Fine.” Rib gave a disgruntled blast of air out his nostrils and launched off the cliff after Tide. He let himself plummet, watching as the churning dark waves below rose rapidly to meet him. Only when his snout touched water did he slide his see-through second eyelids closed for protection as he hit full force. For a moment, he was submerged, pulled by the hungry current before he broke the surface and lifted himself back into the air with a few mighty wing beats.
“Remember to pull your wings in tighter for the dive!” Tide called out to him from above, plunging down to demonstrate. His gleaming teal head popped up out of the water and he opened his mouth to show Rib the couple of fish flopping inside.
It looks like he has three tongues. Rib couldn’t help but smile.
Maybe Tide is right. I can have fun and wait for chances at the same time.
Ascending higher into the sky, Rib circled a spot of ocean, searching for prey. He preferred fishing over hunting, largely because he could rely on his keen eyesight and not have to worry about his lacking sense of smell.
He’d lost his sense of smell five years ago, when he and Mortaug were caught in the living mass of muffle moths. Both he and the Huskhn would have died had Damon not saved them with a specially crafted cure. Only that which the dust made first contact with could not be recovered, thus the loss of Mortaug’s voice and Rib’s sense of smell.
Searching the waters, Rib’s body tensed as he saw movement below, but it was only a sea wyvern after a gull.
Then an especially big shape moved in the water and he plunged for it, tucking his wings close to his flanks. Wind whistled in his ears before he reached the waves, extending his claws for the fish.
The moment his body hit, he felt his talons catch flesh and he peered through his second eyelids to see the large, thrashing fish. It took him but a few moments to clamp his teeth around it and end its life with a jerk of his head.
What a catch! He was delighted by the effort it took him to rise from the waters with the heavy fish. I could choke trying to swallow this one whole.
“Well done,” Tide laughed as Rib heaved the fish up onto the grey pebbled beach at the foot of a great cliff. “You look just about as proud as you did with that minnow years back.”
“Hey,” Rib had trouble pronouncing his words with his mouth still full of fish, “for my first catch, that minnow was a tricky one. But thanks.”
Relieved of his burden, Rib invited Tide to eat with him and together they stripped the fish clean, surrounded by sheer cliffs and sea stacks. Rib grinned as what remained of the fish’s skeleton was pulled back by the greedy ocean. He could still taste the salt on his tongue.
“Well,” Tide said, flexing his wings. “I’ll have to let Damon know that Huskhns are looking for him. He was planning on getting something at the port soon, so I suppose we ought to accompany him for that.”
“Alright,” Rib agreed. “What do you think they want with him anyway?”
Tide shook his head.
“A wizard has a lot to offer,” was all he said.
I suppose. Rib thought back on all the potions Damon made over the years, like the one that helped the old wizard’s memory.
Memory! The dream of his sister suddenly came flooding back to him. It filled him with a sense of love. He looked to Tide, considering telling him about it, but his mentor was already headed back up the cliff.
Maybe I’ll just keep this inside, Rib thought. It felt like a secret, and there was pleasure in holding it to himself.
She’s my sister. My little Memory.
“She’s alive?” Rib swayed dangerously on his feet, breath coming in short.
“Whoa, hey,” Gavin, a young Eristad man, stood in front of him, hands up as though to steady the dragon. “Yes, she’s alive. Everyone’s talking about her.”
My sister…alive after all this time…my little sister…
“Where is she?” Rib croaked.
Gavin leaned against the wall of the Salten Gust Inn, arms folded. “I can’t be sure,” he answered. “But recently sailors have been saying they’ve seen her with Zheal at ports all across the seas. Say she’s big, too. Some call her twice the size of a horse, but I’m guessing that’s just some bard’s inflated tale. Should be about the same size as you, shouldn’t she?”
Rib couldn’t answer. He hadn’t heard a thing about his sister since she was stolen away from him five years ago. Now, a hundred questions of his own built up inside his throat, choking his words.
What has she been doing?
Will she come here?
Could I see her?
“Hey, you with me?” Gavin asked, waving to him.
Rib blinked, focusing his eyes on the twenty-two year old man, who laughed lightly at him. Tight curly hair, dark grey skin, winning smile. This was the friend that so often made Rib feel like life was good, even when people ran from him in fear or when hunting conditions were poor.
But with this sudden news of his sister, he felt as though his entire world had changed.
“What- what have you heard about her?” he barely managed to get out.
Gavin sighed. “They say Zheal takes her around the world, searching for a wizard.”
“He takes her everywhere with him?” Rib blurted, increasingly disturbed.
His friend shrugged. “By the sound of it.”
It’s like she’s Zheal’s slave.
Slowly, Rib’s shock withered away, replaced with something far heavier. It was the sick feeling he got whenever he remembered his sister’s face as she was shoved into a sack. Except now he knew she was still out there. Too big for a sack, no doubt, but still the captive of wicked men. This state of old pain blossomed afresh, like reopening a wound.
“Have you heard any mention of chains?” he asked, sensing his emotions ready to flood. “Do they say she has to drag around a weighted yoke with shackles around her feet? Do they say her mouth is bound shut? Do they say-” He stopped, realizing he didn’t even want to know the answers to his questions. It was just his way of imagining the worst out loud, so others could feel as he felt.
“Rib,” Gavin said, reaching out to rest his hand on Rib’s muzzle. “They haven’t said any of those things. There was only talk of a saddle. She carries Zheal on her back.”
“She carries him?!” Rib burst out.
Gavin nodded, his expression grim. “He calls her Tairg, the name of a legendary Huskhn warrior woman.”
“What?” Rib cried. “He can’t choose her name!”
My sister…she didn’t even get to name herself before she was taken.
And now Zheal’s done it for her.
Rib fell silent, miserable as he studied the cold ground. His eyes fell on small rock dislodged from its hole in the dirt.
“I left her in the cart,” he grieved. “Alone…so easy for those men to take.”
Rib had spoken this fear before, the fear that his sister’s capture was his fault. People usually gave him the same type of response. ‘There was nothing you could do.’ ‘Don’t blame yourself.’
Gavin just stayed quiet.
“There was another thing,” he said after a while.
Rib lifted his weary head.
“There have been Huskhns looking for the Wizard Damon.”
“Damon?” Rib echoed, his voice hollow. “What do they want from him?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling Zheal sent them.”
That’s right, Rib realized, eyes opening wider. If Zheal’s looking for a wizard then…
“Do you think he might bring my sister here?” he asked with his heart pattering. “In search of Damon?”
The corner of Gavin’s mouth pulled to the side in an expression of uncertainty. “Wouldn’t he have come here immediately if he were planning to at all? I almost wonder if he’s avoiding Wystil.”
“But why?” Rib implored. “He knows a wizard lives here. What’s keeping him away?”
Gavin shrugged. “Maybe he’s afraid.” The young man laughed. “There are a number of rumors that could be keeping him away.”
Rib gave a groan. His sister was alive, but out of reach. He had no way of getting to her.
And no name to call her by, he lamented, his eyes returning to the pointless, displaced rock again. Not Tairg. Never Tairg.
At that moment, five dog-like dragon beasts came tearing around the corner, pressing in on them and leaping up in excitement. Gavin’s laugh as he tried to calm the monigons did little to lift Rib’s spirits.
A monigon voiced its raspy bark at Rib, but he refused its invitation to play, irritated when it nipped at his legs and tail.
“Gavin, your lumpish hounds got into the zikkerwheat loft!”
Jasper, a boy of about twelve, came around the same bend as the monigons to jab a finger at the young man’s chest. The top of his head, covered with black tousled locks, barely reached Gavin’s shoulder, but he stood erect and bold, as though unaware of his small size.
“They scattered it all over the ground!”
“Aw.” Gavin grinned at the boy, then crouched down to scratch an expectant monigon’s chin and spoke to it fondly. “Sounds like I have a mess to clean up because of you.”
“It could be ruined!”
Gavin stood back up and headed towards the stables, waving his hand dismissively. “A little dust never hurt.”
Jasper shut his mouth in a scowl, watching Gavin disappear through the doorway with his monigons bounding after him. Rib couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over Jasper’s undeveloped right hand, all five of its fingers short and curled, when suddenly the child turned to look at him.
“When are you going to take me flying?” he demanded. “Let’s go now. Father doesn’t have to know.”
Rib turned his head from the boy’s challenging stare. “No, Jasper.”
“Come on,” the boy insisted, grabbing a hold of Rib’s wing as though to drag him to the coast. “I don’t need a saddle.”
Shed it. Rib became annoyed. I don’t want to put up with this. Not with the news of my sister.
He tried to tug his wing out of Jasper’s grasp but the child held on so tight that Rib’s tugging nearly made him fall over.
As if somehow alerted by his son’s sudden mischief, Mortaug emerged from the inn, the drooping side of his face adding to his stern expression.
Good. Rib was relieved at the sight of his Huskhn friend. Let him deal with Jasper.
Mortaug’s rough, grey locks swept over his shoulders as he approached his son with a series of hand motions. Rib always had trouble understanding the man’s silent language, unable to distinguish each gesture of his hands, but he could tell Jasper was being scolded.
“I can ride him just fine, Father!” the boy protested, still holding onto Rib’s wing. “I know I can!”
Jasper’s confidence was admirable, made even more impressive when considering his deformed hand.
Enough of this. Rib pulled his wing from the boy’s other hand’s grasp and began to walk away. I don’t want to be here anymore.
Jasper turned to him immediately. “Wait, Rib! We’ll fly over the port for everyone to see.”
Mortaug turned the boy roughly by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Rib took the opportunity to leave.
If only Mortaug hadn’t lost his voice to the moths, he thought grievously, moving far up a hill and towards the coastline. Then he’d still be a captain and he could take me to my sister.
But if the moths never swarmed us, then Damon would never have saved his life, Rib processed. So Mortaug wouldn’t have had the heart to help me at all.
The irony was harrowing.
- - - - -
The coast looked beautiful in the light of the morn, but Rib barely took notice of it, once again wading through murky thoughts and memories of his little sister stolen away from him at such a young age.
The ships that morning were docked at Cliffport, all except for one vessel that braved the choppy waters. Rib studied it from a distance as it passed.
Huskhn craft.
Gavin had taught him how to identify such boats by their long, shallow bodies and decorative prows. This one’s wing, or sail as humans called them, billowed with the wind, the picture on it seemingly expanding. Pain jabbed through Rib’s heart as he recognized the illustration was one of a dragon.
Did they put my sister on a ship like that when they took her? They must have…she was gone by the time Tyrone got to the port.
The Huskhn ship was just now sailing around a bend in the cliffs, escaping Rib’s somber gaze. With a heavy sigh, he rested his chin on the lumpy rock underneath him.
It didn’t take long for sadness to lull him to sleep, and he dreamt of creeping into a bright marble hall. He wasn’t even sure how he knew what it was, for he had never been in such a room. A great number of pillars, smooth all around, surrounded him and on the spotless floor he noticed a pattern of crevices.
Each crevice was a hard line cut into stone filled to the brim with water, not one overflowing. Gazing ahead, he saw that the chiseled cracks all led to something. The light in his dream was too glaring for him to see, and so he looked down at his foreclaws and followed a crevice towards it.
He became aware of a pleasant sound, like that of a small waterfall. Finally, he stopped before a basin at the far end of the hall with notches in its rim. Spilling out the notches, water dribbled down the side of the basin to feed into each and every crevice in the floor.
Streaming into the basin was a small flow of water that fell from the top of a stout wall. Over this wall was a stone arch through which Rib could see the outside. But he did not focus so much on this, for, crouching inside the opening was his sister. With one foreclaw, she batted at the falling water as playfully as a frisk, the same size as he remembered her.
It’s you, Rib breathed and she looked up at him. Where have you been? I’ve missed you.
The lavender grey dragon said nothing, though she blinked curiously at him.
Whether the outside began to brighten or the hall darken, Rib could not tell, but his sister was fading from his sight.
Wait! he cried. What can I call you by?
His sister’s mouth did not move, but like a melody from the dream world came the answer:
Memory.
Rib stirred as a wintry wind hit him head on, splitting over his wings, and he opened his eyes slowly. Though his vision was blurred from sleep, he could see a form gliding in the air. Rib tried to get his eyes to focus, hopes of realized dreams taking over him when he realized it was a dragon soaring over the ocean.
Sister?!
Rib leapt to his feet. Now he could see the sky was stunningly brilliant, its bounteous clouds bursting with light. The dragon flew about in the distance and sun beams illuminated the true color of its hide.
No, it’s…
Tide. Rib was disappointed to identify the dragon as his old mentor. The somewhat small, teal colored dragon searched below him like a falcon, until he pulled his wings in for a dive. Rib watched as Tide penetrated the water with a splash only to ascend again with a silvery pink fish in his jaws.
On any other day, Rib would be tempted to join him, but sorrow, like mortar, fixed him to the spot where he lay.
It appeared that Tide had spotted him there, for the dragon now headed for him, beating his colorful wings lightly on the easy draft.
“Hey, Rib,” he greeted him. With calculated precision, he alighted beside him on the scarp. “I could spot you anywhere with that vibrant hide of yours.”
“Yeah,” Rib exhaled, half-closed eyes still staring out over the horizon. “You and the few other dragons here.”
“Hmm.”
Rib could hear Tide scratch out a hollow for himself and then lie down.
“I’ve known that tone since you were a pupil. What’s wrong?”
Not bothering to lift his head, but shifting to face his mentor, Rib told him everything he’d heard about his sister. Just speaking the words made him feel worse.
Like Gavin, Tide liked to stay quiet for a while before responding. Often times, Rib had trouble waiting patiently, but now he just turned his gaze back to the ocean and stewed in returned misery.
“I suspected she was still out there,” Tide finally spoke. “But to hear it for certain is a relief all the same.”
“Relief?” Rib echoed. “What relief is there to know my sister’s a slave?”
Tide gave a sigh. “You’re right,” he said. “How foolish of me to think your sister could ever be helped.”
“What?” Rib’s eyes opened wider and he looked to his mentor. “How can you say that?”
“I’m only agreeing with you,” Tide pointed out. “Feels good to give in, doesn’t it?”
Rib became flustered as he tried to defend himself. “I’m not giving in! There’s just nothing I can do.”
“Perhaps not yet, but don’t think it will always be that way. Otherwise, chances will pass you by like fish under the ice.”
Tide’s words made Rib remember the frustration he once felt as a young frisk, skidding over a frozen lake as he tried to catch the shapes darting just beneath the surface.
I could smash through that ice now, he grumbled inwardly. What small problems I had back then.
“Speaking of fish,” Tide said, standing up and shaking himself of the moss bits that clung to his scales. “Right now is a great time to go diving for some. Come join me. I think you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“How could I?” Rib questioned, bitter. “My sister has nothing to enjoy.”
“Rib…” Tide shook his head. “Base your happiness on the happiness of others and you’ll never smile again. There’s a time to mourn together and a time to live. Now come, I insist.”
“Fine.” Rib gave a disgruntled blast of air out his nostrils and launched off the cliff after Tide. He let himself plummet, watching as the churning dark waves below rose rapidly to meet him. Only when his snout touched water did he slide his see-through second eyelids closed for protection as he hit full force. For a moment, he was submerged, pulled by the hungry current before he broke the surface and lifted himself back into the air with a few mighty wing beats.
“Remember to pull your wings in tighter for the dive!” Tide called out to him from above, plunging down to demonstrate. His gleaming teal head popped up out of the water and he opened his mouth to show Rib the couple of fish flopping inside.
It looks like he has three tongues. Rib couldn’t help but smile.
Maybe Tide is right. I can have fun and wait for chances at the same time.
Ascending higher into the sky, Rib circled a spot of ocean, searching for prey. He preferred fishing over hunting, largely because he could rely on his keen eyesight and not have to worry about his lacking sense of smell.
He’d lost his sense of smell five years ago, when he and Mortaug were caught in the living mass of muffle moths. Both he and the Huskhn would have died had Damon not saved them with a specially crafted cure. Only that which the dust made first contact with could not be recovered, thus the loss of Mortaug’s voice and Rib’s sense of smell.
Searching the waters, Rib’s body tensed as he saw movement below, but it was only a sea wyvern after a gull.
Then an especially big shape moved in the water and he plunged for it, tucking his wings close to his flanks. Wind whistled in his ears before he reached the waves, extending his claws for the fish.
The moment his body hit, he felt his talons catch flesh and he peered through his second eyelids to see the large, thrashing fish. It took him but a few moments to clamp his teeth around it and end its life with a jerk of his head.
What a catch! He was delighted by the effort it took him to rise from the waters with the heavy fish. I could choke trying to swallow this one whole.
“Well done,” Tide laughed as Rib heaved the fish up onto the grey pebbled beach at the foot of a great cliff. “You look just about as proud as you did with that minnow years back.”
“Hey,” Rib had trouble pronouncing his words with his mouth still full of fish, “for my first catch, that minnow was a tricky one. But thanks.”
Relieved of his burden, Rib invited Tide to eat with him and together they stripped the fish clean, surrounded by sheer cliffs and sea stacks. Rib grinned as what remained of the fish’s skeleton was pulled back by the greedy ocean. He could still taste the salt on his tongue.
“Well,” Tide said, flexing his wings. “I’ll have to let Damon know that Huskhns are looking for him. He was planning on getting something at the port soon, so I suppose we ought to accompany him for that.”
“Alright,” Rib agreed. “What do you think they want with him anyway?”
Tide shook his head.
“A wizard has a lot to offer,” was all he said.
I suppose. Rib thought back on all the potions Damon made over the years, like the one that helped the old wizard’s memory.
Memory! The dream of his sister suddenly came flooding back to him. It filled him with a sense of love. He looked to Tide, considering telling him about it, but his mentor was already headed back up the cliff.
Maybe I’ll just keep this inside, Rib thought. It felt like a secret, and there was pleasure in holding it to himself.
She’s my sister. My little Memory.
Chapter 2
“What is Damon getting here?” Rib asked Tide as they followed behind the Wizard at a leisurely pace.
“A rare ingredient,” the dragon answered in a low voice.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
As Cliffport came into view, people from the outskirts of town began to turn and stare, as they always did when Rib drew near.
“You’d think that the humans would begin to trust us after all these years,” he complained quietly, assuming his ‘Don’t fear me; I’m nice’ posture as they approached.
“Well, it’s hard for them,” Tide replied, eyes lowered to the ground. “But keep being gentle and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are eventually. Besides, haven’t things gotten better? When’s the last time someone screamed at the sight of you?”
“Yesterday morning,” Rib admitted sheepishly. “The goose girl didn’t notice me by Mortaug’s inn until I sneezed. She went running and her geese came hissing.”
“Ah,” Tide chuckled softly. “The noble geese.”
Rib thought it strange that he and Tide were acting as Damon’s personal guards, while trying to look as unintimidating as possible. Yet, clearly it was enough, for people quickly moved out of the streets for them, whispering to one another. They probably thought he couldn’t hear them, but his ears picked up their hushed tones with ease.
“The Dragon Knight’s beasts,” he heard a woman murmur to her child.
Rib knew the Wystilians went Tyrone when they said the Dragon Knight, but he still didn’t understand why. Whenever he’d ask Tide or Tyrone, they’d answer with, ‘It’s a long story.’
A boy, rather loudly for a whisper, said, “I’ll bet they could burn this whole place down with a single breath.”
The dragons exchanged looks. Tide appeared amused, but Rib was bothered by the child’s statement.
Why would we want to do that? he thought. And why does everyone assume we breathe fire? Lynx is the only one who does.
Venturing farther into the town, down dirty streets lined with wide eyed people, Rib began wondering how close they were to this special ingredient. Cautiously, he let his eyes run over the humans, taking note of the few that didn’t wear the same startled expression as everyone else.
There was a woman preoccupied with trying not to touch the filthy man beside her, a baby that babbled to the sky, a boy who gaped at them with obvious delight…
Rib gave that boy an appreciative smile as he passed, but immediately lost it when his eyes met those of a gnarled old man.
Standing foremost in the crowd, the man challenged Rib with an abrasive stare.
Whoa, Rib thought, returning his gaze to the ground. No one’s ever looked at me like that before.
He could still feel the man’s glare as he walked on by and heard him grunt, “Nasty black devil.”
Devil. Rib wasn’t sure what it meant, but knew it was considered an insult among humans. What have I done?
And my scales are firebloom, not black. Rib wished that people could perceive the true color of his hide, but only dragons and magic seers could.
There’s a lot these humans don’t know about me, he grumbled to himself.
At last, Damon sought out a Huskhn merchant from the crowds and had a word with him. Rib could see the man swallow nervously at the sight of the dragons before he took a chest from his booth. The man’s trembling fingers struggled to put a key into the lock, but he finally got it open and handed a flask inside it to the Wizard.
Damon merely looked at the flask in his hand before dropping a heavy, jangling sack into the chest and turning back the way he’d come. Rib and Tide took their place behind him as he passed and walked all the way out of town.
Well, that wasn’t hard, Rib thought. The only Huskhn I even saw was the merchant.
But still…I’ll bet Zheal will hear about this. Is he really avoiding coming to Wystil? Or would he come once he’s heard Damon was still here? What if Memory just showed up with him one day?
What if they came to the hunting lodge looking for Damon?
Rib felt jittery at the thought of it. The two places he ever actually stayed at were near the hunting lodge and by Cliffport, and his sister could appear at either one of them. He mulled over this for a while, recalling Tide’s advice.
I’ll just have to wait and see, he decided. There’s nothing I can do but that.
When they were well on their way back home, Rib asked Damon, “What’s this ingredient you got?”
“Liquid of the Royal Well,” the Wizard muttered, slinging the flask’s strap over his shoulder.
The Royal Well? Haven’t I heard of that before?
Oh. Rib let the tip of his tail drag on the ground in sorrow. It’s the same ingredient he went for when the Huskhns stole Memory.
“So…what’s it for?” he questioned further.
What could be so important you still want it after five years?
“Firesap cure,” Damon coughed. “For Lynx.”
“You’re going to save him?” Rib said, a spark of happiness perking his head up. “Damon, that’s great!”
The Wizard just cleared his throat and swept more hair into his eyes.
Lynx won’t go mad like Tyrone always warned us he could, Rib thought cheerfully.
Maybe now he’ll be allowed around the hunting lodge!
- - - - -
“Do we even know where Lynx is?” Rib asked, watching with his head in the doorway as Damon busied himself with crafting the cure.
The Wizard shrugged, setting out a few tiny bones on the table. In the middle of his cluttered hut was a lit brazier. Thin smoke rose from the bright unfurling fire, funneling out a hole in the roof, and Rib remembered when Lynx had ignited the brazier with his breath. Damon was always sure to keep the flame alive, as dragon fire was a vital element in potion making.
It became loud when the Wizard began crushing the bones inside a roughly hollowed out rock. Rib crinkled his snout at the unpleasant repetition of crrck! crrck! crrck! and was about to leave, when Damon asked him to stay.
What does he need me for? Rib wondered, but didn’t bother asking over the continued pounding of rock against bone.
When Damon finished, he brushed most the fine powder into the opened flask he’d gotten from the Huskhn merchant. Corking it again, he shook the leather container. Rib could hear its contents sloshing around.
Is the cure done?
He observed as Damon set the flask aside. It took the man a few minutes of rummaging around his workspace before he found his handkerchief, into which he neatly folded the rest of the bone dust. This, he placed in the bottom of a satchel and dropped the flask in as well.
So many things hands can do, Rib admired as he watched. So many things they create.
“For Tyrone,” Damon told him, hanging the satchel over the Rib’s head. “He’s expecting these.”
“Isn’t Tyrone home?” Rib asked.
The Wizard shrugged. “Probably.”
“As in, right over there?”
“Go on,” Damon said hoarsely. “My bones ache. Need to find a potion to stop it…”
Alright then. Rib backed out of the hut, happy to help even if only to walk a few steps over to the hunting lodge. Crossing the short distance, he enjoyed crunching frosty grass under his feet and smiled at children’s laughter coming from inside the house ahead.
What are those boys doing now?
Rib stopped before a window and pushed up the inward-swinging board with his muzzle to stick his head in. The house was warmly lit and well furnished with a number of things Rib couldn’t imagine ever needing as a dragon.
Two children hid behind chairs, reaching out to poke at their mother as she helped her husband suit up. These were the boys Rib grew up with, although they hardly seemed to grow at all compared to him. Rib liked to think of their parents, Tyrone and Theora, as his parents too, since he’d never met his real ones.
Why is Tyrone getting his armor on? Rib wondered, forgetting to announce his presence.
“Lynx won’t be happy when he finds out the cure takes away his firebreath,” Tyrone was muttering, looking down to readjust his breast plate.
His wife gave one boy a playful smack on the hand and he withdrew, giggling. “I’m sure he already suspects it,” Theora said. “Have you thought of what you’re going to say to him?”
Tyrone snorted. “No. You know how he is…Oh, hello Rib.” The man glanced up at the dragon in the window. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“You were?” Rib broke into a grin as the children rushed over to him, roaring like he had taught them. “Well, Damon asked me to bring you something.”
Tyrone beckoned him to the doorway and Rib came over, the wooden flap knocking against the window sill in his absence.
“I sent Ivory for Lynx, asking him to meet me at the Great Chimney Shaft,” Tyrone told him and lifted the satchel from the dragon’s neck. “Will you take me there?” He peered into the bag before slinging it over his shoulder.
“Me?” Rib hesitated as he eyed the long sheathed knife attached to the man’s leather belt. “But why do you have that on?”
Tyrone had metal plates over his chest and back. A chainmail shirt was visible beneath, with sleeves that ended around his elbows. Dark leather padded his shoulders and lay in flaps over his thighs. Chainmail also covered his legs and heavy boots were on his feet. He was clearly well protected, but with enough room to move swiftly. He looked ready for a battle.
And yet his simple answer was, “Just a precaution.”
Precaution?
“Please, I would appreciate your help,” Tyrone said.
By the looks of it, any of Rib’s other siblings wandering Wystil’s wilderness would be better for the job, as they were tougher and happier to meet a challenge head on. It was for that reason Rib could hardly relate to them.
But Tyrone was asking for his help, and however nervous that made him, Rib was flattered.
“Alright,” he agreed.
Lynx isn’t going to be happy with me…
“Thank you.” Tyrone took a breath before turning to face his wife, who wrapped her arms around him and kissed him lightly.
“Do you want your helmet?” she asked, but he declined.
Patting his boys goodbye, Tyrone exited the building and Rib fell into step beside him.
“I get to wear a saddle?” Rib perked up on their way to the stablehouse, passing the frozen garden and the grove.
“Riding bareback isn’t quite my favorite,” Tyrone replied in dry humor.
Rib glanced at him, concerned by the grim line of his mouth and the crease on his forehead.
“Ty?” he asked tentatively.
“Hmm?”
“You don’t seem very confident about this…”
Reaching the wide stable doorway, Tyrone stopped and heaved a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, Rib. I don’t mean to worry you.” He stepped inside, lifting a leather dragon saddle from the wall.
Does he think Lynx will fight us?
Rib crouched and tried to hold still as the man went about securing the saddle onto his back. The burden was a sort of comfort to him, and by the time Tyrone had fastened all the straps around his plated chest, Rib was simpering.
It feels like when Theo could still hold me.
He exhaled, missing the days when he was small.
Tyrone stood in front of him when he had finished with the saddle, eyes studying the dragon’s face. As Rib focused in on him, the woodsmen gave a sober smile.
“Alright.” The man heaved himself up into the saddle. Rib could feel by the distribution of weight that Tyrone had settled himself.
“So…” Rib let his voice die out.
“To the Chimney Shaft,” Tyrone said. Then, with a partial laugh, “Let’s go ruin Lynx’s day.”
Lynx is really going to hate us for this…Even if it is for his own good.
Rib faced the direction of their destination and took off. It took him a moment to adjust to the added weight on his back, but as soon as he did, his wings had no trouble taking him and his rider over the forest towards the bouldered fields.
Hundreds of leafless trees passed below him, looking like sticks stuck in the cold frozen ground. Their thatching of branches were only broken by the occasional tall, green pine.
It wasn’t long before Rib was soaring over the vast rolling grasslands dotted all over with rocks, large and small. Everything below looked the same, but Rib’s sense of direction was impeccable and he kept his gaze fastened ahead.
There he is. Rib spotted him. Lynx!
The large, marine green dragon stared up at him as he swooped low to land. Behind him was the Great Chimney Shaft entrance, a massive hole in the ground Rib and his siblings were always warned away from before they could fly. Now, the vertical tunnel dropping far into the ground was a joy to dive down. Rib knew well the caverns it opened up to at the bottom.
As Rib alighted on the icy turf before Lynx, he could see that the firebreather was already bothered. Tyrone dismounted and Ivory flew from a tall boulder to his gloved hand, mimicking one of his boy’s delighted laughs.
“Came to tell me to leave the kingdom entirely?” Lynx asked the woodsman irritably, narrowing his eyes at him. “I see you’ve dressed yourself in armor, like old times. Am I your new enemy?”
Tyrone cleared his throat. “Don’t be so bitter, Lynx. I had to take Damon’s warning seriously. I can’t allow my wife and children to be put at risk with the firesap ready to thrust you into madness at any moment.”
Lynx took on a sardonic smile. “Who’s to say I’m not mad already?”
Rib felt uncomfortable as the dragon turned his gaze on him, looking him up and down.
I’d forgotten how abrasive he is…
“Look how big you’ve gotten,” Lynx praised mockingly with a flick of his tail. “Come as Tyrone’s trusty support?”
Before Rib could say anything, Tyrone held up the flask.
“I have the cure for you.”
The firebreather cocked his head at it.
“Is there a cure for the mad?” he inquired.
“Lynx,” Tyrone’s tone was hardening, “we don’t have time for this.”
“I’m glad we agree,” Lynx replied, spreading his wings. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go catch myself a fat, furry animal to eat.”
What?! Rib panicked. But the-
“Lynx!” Tyrone snapped.
The dragon paused, breaking into a grin.
“My, Tyrone,” he purred. “Do you bite at your children like that?”
“Listen to me,” the man said. “Take this cure.”
Lynx flicked his tongue, causing a shower of sparks to fall over Tyrone. Ivory flitted to her master’s shoulder with a short whistle.
“Will I lose my fire?” Lynx asked flatly.
“No,” Tyrone answered and Rib widened his eyes.
Did he just lie?
Tyrone actually lies?
Lynx glanced at Rib and smirked.
“Your support just gave you away,” he told Tyrone. “What have you to say now?”
Oh…Rib felt terrible.
Tyrone did not glare at him, but passed a hand over his face.
“What have you to say, thinking of no one but yourself and your foolish pleasures?” the man turned the question on Lynx.
Lynx grinned at this sudden change of tactics. “I would say that I’m just like everyone else, except forthright about it.”
“Not everyone else can go mad at any moment and kill everyone around them,” Tyrone responded.
Lynx narrowed his eyes. “I’ve known it to happen.”
“And you would gladly take part in it?”
“Not gladly. I would be mad.”
“Afterward?” Tyrone asked, casually extracting the folded handkerchief from his satchel. “When you came to realize what you’ve done?”
“I like to believe that there would be no afterward,” Lynx answered. “That you’d put an end to my madness, like the hero you’ve always been.”
“Is that not what I’m trying to do now?”
“True, but what valor is there in administering a cure?”
“I never asked for valor. I only want what’s necessary.”
“How incredibly boring,” Lynx drawled. “I’ll see you when things get exciting.”
Just as the dragon gathered his haunches to take off, Tyrone whipped the handkerchief into his face. A small amount of dust swirled from the cloth into Lynx’s nostrils and he snorted in surprise. Then, relaxing his expression and poised body, the firebreather stood idle, simply breathing.
What just happened? Rib wondered.
Tyrone wasted no time uncorking the flask and stepping forward.
“Open your mouth,” he told Lynx and, to Rib’s astonishment, the firebreather obeyed. Tyrone poured the potion down Lynx’s throat, ordering him to swallow, which he did.
He took the cure!
Rib waited apprehensively for whatever would happen next. It seemed a couple minutes that he stood there with Tyrone, watching Lynx. Suddenly, the large dragon shuddered, his hide quivering with the spasms of his muscles underneath.
What is it doing to him?
Although little could be seen on the outside, Rib got the feeling that major things were happening inside the firebreather.
Will he be alright?
As the shivering subsided, Lynx began to blink, as if clearing his head of confusion. His eyes focused in on Tyrone holding the uncorked flask and he jerked back, lifting his head away.
“You humans never give up, do you?” he said. “My answer is no.”
Wait, Rib thought. He doesn’t realize he just took it?
“Forgive me.” Tyrone slung the empty flask over his shoulder. “I would have given it to you either way.”
“What…” A muddled expression crossed over Lynx’s face, then a dawning of alarm. Taking air into his lungs, the dragon held his breath a moment, then blew.
Whoa.
Not flames, nor even sparks left the dragon’s jaws, but a surge of little flecks of ice. They spread out, frosting Tyrone’s hair and sweeping into Rib’s face. Rib blinked away the flakes that caught in his eyes.
He’s an icebreather now?!
As the miniature whiteout cleared, each snowflake whisked away by the breeze, Lynx curled his lip back in a distasteful sneer.
“There,” he growled. “Satisfied?”
Almost as if accidentally, the dragon let himself fall backwards into the massive hole without another sound except for the pinging of pebbles that followed him. Rib peered down the Great Chimney Shaft to see him open his wings just in time to catch himself and disappear inside the caverns below.
That went better than expected, thought Rib.
With Lynx gone, Tyrone exhaled, turning to pull himself back up into Rib’s saddle.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re done here.”
“What is Damon getting here?” Rib asked Tide as they followed behind the Wizard at a leisurely pace.
“A rare ingredient,” the dragon answered in a low voice.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
As Cliffport came into view, people from the outskirts of town began to turn and stare, as they always did when Rib drew near.
“You’d think that the humans would begin to trust us after all these years,” he complained quietly, assuming his ‘Don’t fear me; I’m nice’ posture as they approached.
“Well, it’s hard for them,” Tide replied, eyes lowered to the ground. “But keep being gentle and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are eventually. Besides, haven’t things gotten better? When’s the last time someone screamed at the sight of you?”
“Yesterday morning,” Rib admitted sheepishly. “The goose girl didn’t notice me by Mortaug’s inn until I sneezed. She went running and her geese came hissing.”
“Ah,” Tide chuckled softly. “The noble geese.”
Rib thought it strange that he and Tide were acting as Damon’s personal guards, while trying to look as unintimidating as possible. Yet, clearly it was enough, for people quickly moved out of the streets for them, whispering to one another. They probably thought he couldn’t hear them, but his ears picked up their hushed tones with ease.
“The Dragon Knight’s beasts,” he heard a woman murmur to her child.
Rib knew the Wystilians went Tyrone when they said the Dragon Knight, but he still didn’t understand why. Whenever he’d ask Tide or Tyrone, they’d answer with, ‘It’s a long story.’
A boy, rather loudly for a whisper, said, “I’ll bet they could burn this whole place down with a single breath.”
The dragons exchanged looks. Tide appeared amused, but Rib was bothered by the child’s statement.
Why would we want to do that? he thought. And why does everyone assume we breathe fire? Lynx is the only one who does.
Venturing farther into the town, down dirty streets lined with wide eyed people, Rib began wondering how close they were to this special ingredient. Cautiously, he let his eyes run over the humans, taking note of the few that didn’t wear the same startled expression as everyone else.
There was a woman preoccupied with trying not to touch the filthy man beside her, a baby that babbled to the sky, a boy who gaped at them with obvious delight…
Rib gave that boy an appreciative smile as he passed, but immediately lost it when his eyes met those of a gnarled old man.
Standing foremost in the crowd, the man challenged Rib with an abrasive stare.
Whoa, Rib thought, returning his gaze to the ground. No one’s ever looked at me like that before.
He could still feel the man’s glare as he walked on by and heard him grunt, “Nasty black devil.”
Devil. Rib wasn’t sure what it meant, but knew it was considered an insult among humans. What have I done?
And my scales are firebloom, not black. Rib wished that people could perceive the true color of his hide, but only dragons and magic seers could.
There’s a lot these humans don’t know about me, he grumbled to himself.
At last, Damon sought out a Huskhn merchant from the crowds and had a word with him. Rib could see the man swallow nervously at the sight of the dragons before he took a chest from his booth. The man’s trembling fingers struggled to put a key into the lock, but he finally got it open and handed a flask inside it to the Wizard.
Damon merely looked at the flask in his hand before dropping a heavy, jangling sack into the chest and turning back the way he’d come. Rib and Tide took their place behind him as he passed and walked all the way out of town.
Well, that wasn’t hard, Rib thought. The only Huskhn I even saw was the merchant.
But still…I’ll bet Zheal will hear about this. Is he really avoiding coming to Wystil? Or would he come once he’s heard Damon was still here? What if Memory just showed up with him one day?
What if they came to the hunting lodge looking for Damon?
Rib felt jittery at the thought of it. The two places he ever actually stayed at were near the hunting lodge and by Cliffport, and his sister could appear at either one of them. He mulled over this for a while, recalling Tide’s advice.
I’ll just have to wait and see, he decided. There’s nothing I can do but that.
When they were well on their way back home, Rib asked Damon, “What’s this ingredient you got?”
“Liquid of the Royal Well,” the Wizard muttered, slinging the flask’s strap over his shoulder.
The Royal Well? Haven’t I heard of that before?
Oh. Rib let the tip of his tail drag on the ground in sorrow. It’s the same ingredient he went for when the Huskhns stole Memory.
“So…what’s it for?” he questioned further.
What could be so important you still want it after five years?
“Firesap cure,” Damon coughed. “For Lynx.”
“You’re going to save him?” Rib said, a spark of happiness perking his head up. “Damon, that’s great!”
The Wizard just cleared his throat and swept more hair into his eyes.
Lynx won’t go mad like Tyrone always warned us he could, Rib thought cheerfully.
Maybe now he’ll be allowed around the hunting lodge!
- - - - -
“Do we even know where Lynx is?” Rib asked, watching with his head in the doorway as Damon busied himself with crafting the cure.
The Wizard shrugged, setting out a few tiny bones on the table. In the middle of his cluttered hut was a lit brazier. Thin smoke rose from the bright unfurling fire, funneling out a hole in the roof, and Rib remembered when Lynx had ignited the brazier with his breath. Damon was always sure to keep the flame alive, as dragon fire was a vital element in potion making.
It became loud when the Wizard began crushing the bones inside a roughly hollowed out rock. Rib crinkled his snout at the unpleasant repetition of crrck! crrck! crrck! and was about to leave, when Damon asked him to stay.
What does he need me for? Rib wondered, but didn’t bother asking over the continued pounding of rock against bone.
When Damon finished, he brushed most the fine powder into the opened flask he’d gotten from the Huskhn merchant. Corking it again, he shook the leather container. Rib could hear its contents sloshing around.
Is the cure done?
He observed as Damon set the flask aside. It took the man a few minutes of rummaging around his workspace before he found his handkerchief, into which he neatly folded the rest of the bone dust. This, he placed in the bottom of a satchel and dropped the flask in as well.
So many things hands can do, Rib admired as he watched. So many things they create.
“For Tyrone,” Damon told him, hanging the satchel over the Rib’s head. “He’s expecting these.”
“Isn’t Tyrone home?” Rib asked.
The Wizard shrugged. “Probably.”
“As in, right over there?”
“Go on,” Damon said hoarsely. “My bones ache. Need to find a potion to stop it…”
Alright then. Rib backed out of the hut, happy to help even if only to walk a few steps over to the hunting lodge. Crossing the short distance, he enjoyed crunching frosty grass under his feet and smiled at children’s laughter coming from inside the house ahead.
What are those boys doing now?
Rib stopped before a window and pushed up the inward-swinging board with his muzzle to stick his head in. The house was warmly lit and well furnished with a number of things Rib couldn’t imagine ever needing as a dragon.
Two children hid behind chairs, reaching out to poke at their mother as she helped her husband suit up. These were the boys Rib grew up with, although they hardly seemed to grow at all compared to him. Rib liked to think of their parents, Tyrone and Theora, as his parents too, since he’d never met his real ones.
Why is Tyrone getting his armor on? Rib wondered, forgetting to announce his presence.
“Lynx won’t be happy when he finds out the cure takes away his firebreath,” Tyrone was muttering, looking down to readjust his breast plate.
His wife gave one boy a playful smack on the hand and he withdrew, giggling. “I’m sure he already suspects it,” Theora said. “Have you thought of what you’re going to say to him?”
Tyrone snorted. “No. You know how he is…Oh, hello Rib.” The man glanced up at the dragon in the window. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“You were?” Rib broke into a grin as the children rushed over to him, roaring like he had taught them. “Well, Damon asked me to bring you something.”
Tyrone beckoned him to the doorway and Rib came over, the wooden flap knocking against the window sill in his absence.
“I sent Ivory for Lynx, asking him to meet me at the Great Chimney Shaft,” Tyrone told him and lifted the satchel from the dragon’s neck. “Will you take me there?” He peered into the bag before slinging it over his shoulder.
“Me?” Rib hesitated as he eyed the long sheathed knife attached to the man’s leather belt. “But why do you have that on?”
Tyrone had metal plates over his chest and back. A chainmail shirt was visible beneath, with sleeves that ended around his elbows. Dark leather padded his shoulders and lay in flaps over his thighs. Chainmail also covered his legs and heavy boots were on his feet. He was clearly well protected, but with enough room to move swiftly. He looked ready for a battle.
And yet his simple answer was, “Just a precaution.”
Precaution?
“Please, I would appreciate your help,” Tyrone said.
By the looks of it, any of Rib’s other siblings wandering Wystil’s wilderness would be better for the job, as they were tougher and happier to meet a challenge head on. It was for that reason Rib could hardly relate to them.
But Tyrone was asking for his help, and however nervous that made him, Rib was flattered.
“Alright,” he agreed.
Lynx isn’t going to be happy with me…
“Thank you.” Tyrone took a breath before turning to face his wife, who wrapped her arms around him and kissed him lightly.
“Do you want your helmet?” she asked, but he declined.
Patting his boys goodbye, Tyrone exited the building and Rib fell into step beside him.
“I get to wear a saddle?” Rib perked up on their way to the stablehouse, passing the frozen garden and the grove.
“Riding bareback isn’t quite my favorite,” Tyrone replied in dry humor.
Rib glanced at him, concerned by the grim line of his mouth and the crease on his forehead.
“Ty?” he asked tentatively.
“Hmm?”
“You don’t seem very confident about this…”
Reaching the wide stable doorway, Tyrone stopped and heaved a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, Rib. I don’t mean to worry you.” He stepped inside, lifting a leather dragon saddle from the wall.
Does he think Lynx will fight us?
Rib crouched and tried to hold still as the man went about securing the saddle onto his back. The burden was a sort of comfort to him, and by the time Tyrone had fastened all the straps around his plated chest, Rib was simpering.
It feels like when Theo could still hold me.
He exhaled, missing the days when he was small.
Tyrone stood in front of him when he had finished with the saddle, eyes studying the dragon’s face. As Rib focused in on him, the woodsmen gave a sober smile.
“Alright.” The man heaved himself up into the saddle. Rib could feel by the distribution of weight that Tyrone had settled himself.
“So…” Rib let his voice die out.
“To the Chimney Shaft,” Tyrone said. Then, with a partial laugh, “Let’s go ruin Lynx’s day.”
Lynx is really going to hate us for this…Even if it is for his own good.
Rib faced the direction of their destination and took off. It took him a moment to adjust to the added weight on his back, but as soon as he did, his wings had no trouble taking him and his rider over the forest towards the bouldered fields.
Hundreds of leafless trees passed below him, looking like sticks stuck in the cold frozen ground. Their thatching of branches were only broken by the occasional tall, green pine.
It wasn’t long before Rib was soaring over the vast rolling grasslands dotted all over with rocks, large and small. Everything below looked the same, but Rib’s sense of direction was impeccable and he kept his gaze fastened ahead.
There he is. Rib spotted him. Lynx!
The large, marine green dragon stared up at him as he swooped low to land. Behind him was the Great Chimney Shaft entrance, a massive hole in the ground Rib and his siblings were always warned away from before they could fly. Now, the vertical tunnel dropping far into the ground was a joy to dive down. Rib knew well the caverns it opened up to at the bottom.
As Rib alighted on the icy turf before Lynx, he could see that the firebreather was already bothered. Tyrone dismounted and Ivory flew from a tall boulder to his gloved hand, mimicking one of his boy’s delighted laughs.
“Came to tell me to leave the kingdom entirely?” Lynx asked the woodsman irritably, narrowing his eyes at him. “I see you’ve dressed yourself in armor, like old times. Am I your new enemy?”
Tyrone cleared his throat. “Don’t be so bitter, Lynx. I had to take Damon’s warning seriously. I can’t allow my wife and children to be put at risk with the firesap ready to thrust you into madness at any moment.”
Lynx took on a sardonic smile. “Who’s to say I’m not mad already?”
Rib felt uncomfortable as the dragon turned his gaze on him, looking him up and down.
I’d forgotten how abrasive he is…
“Look how big you’ve gotten,” Lynx praised mockingly with a flick of his tail. “Come as Tyrone’s trusty support?”
Before Rib could say anything, Tyrone held up the flask.
“I have the cure for you.”
The firebreather cocked his head at it.
“Is there a cure for the mad?” he inquired.
“Lynx,” Tyrone’s tone was hardening, “we don’t have time for this.”
“I’m glad we agree,” Lynx replied, spreading his wings. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go catch myself a fat, furry animal to eat.”
What?! Rib panicked. But the-
“Lynx!” Tyrone snapped.
The dragon paused, breaking into a grin.
“My, Tyrone,” he purred. “Do you bite at your children like that?”
“Listen to me,” the man said. “Take this cure.”
Lynx flicked his tongue, causing a shower of sparks to fall over Tyrone. Ivory flitted to her master’s shoulder with a short whistle.
“Will I lose my fire?” Lynx asked flatly.
“No,” Tyrone answered and Rib widened his eyes.
Did he just lie?
Tyrone actually lies?
Lynx glanced at Rib and smirked.
“Your support just gave you away,” he told Tyrone. “What have you to say now?”
Oh…Rib felt terrible.
Tyrone did not glare at him, but passed a hand over his face.
“What have you to say, thinking of no one but yourself and your foolish pleasures?” the man turned the question on Lynx.
Lynx grinned at this sudden change of tactics. “I would say that I’m just like everyone else, except forthright about it.”
“Not everyone else can go mad at any moment and kill everyone around them,” Tyrone responded.
Lynx narrowed his eyes. “I’ve known it to happen.”
“And you would gladly take part in it?”
“Not gladly. I would be mad.”
“Afterward?” Tyrone asked, casually extracting the folded handkerchief from his satchel. “When you came to realize what you’ve done?”
“I like to believe that there would be no afterward,” Lynx answered. “That you’d put an end to my madness, like the hero you’ve always been.”
“Is that not what I’m trying to do now?”
“True, but what valor is there in administering a cure?”
“I never asked for valor. I only want what’s necessary.”
“How incredibly boring,” Lynx drawled. “I’ll see you when things get exciting.”
Just as the dragon gathered his haunches to take off, Tyrone whipped the handkerchief into his face. A small amount of dust swirled from the cloth into Lynx’s nostrils and he snorted in surprise. Then, relaxing his expression and poised body, the firebreather stood idle, simply breathing.
What just happened? Rib wondered.
Tyrone wasted no time uncorking the flask and stepping forward.
“Open your mouth,” he told Lynx and, to Rib’s astonishment, the firebreather obeyed. Tyrone poured the potion down Lynx’s throat, ordering him to swallow, which he did.
He took the cure!
Rib waited apprehensively for whatever would happen next. It seemed a couple minutes that he stood there with Tyrone, watching Lynx. Suddenly, the large dragon shuddered, his hide quivering with the spasms of his muscles underneath.
What is it doing to him?
Although little could be seen on the outside, Rib got the feeling that major things were happening inside the firebreather.
Will he be alright?
As the shivering subsided, Lynx began to blink, as if clearing his head of confusion. His eyes focused in on Tyrone holding the uncorked flask and he jerked back, lifting his head away.
“You humans never give up, do you?” he said. “My answer is no.”
Wait, Rib thought. He doesn’t realize he just took it?
“Forgive me.” Tyrone slung the empty flask over his shoulder. “I would have given it to you either way.”
“What…” A muddled expression crossed over Lynx’s face, then a dawning of alarm. Taking air into his lungs, the dragon held his breath a moment, then blew.
Whoa.
Not flames, nor even sparks left the dragon’s jaws, but a surge of little flecks of ice. They spread out, frosting Tyrone’s hair and sweeping into Rib’s face. Rib blinked away the flakes that caught in his eyes.
He’s an icebreather now?!
As the miniature whiteout cleared, each snowflake whisked away by the breeze, Lynx curled his lip back in a distasteful sneer.
“There,” he growled. “Satisfied?”
Almost as if accidentally, the dragon let himself fall backwards into the massive hole without another sound except for the pinging of pebbles that followed him. Rib peered down the Great Chimney Shaft to see him open his wings just in time to catch himself and disappear inside the caverns below.
That went better than expected, thought Rib.
With Lynx gone, Tyrone exhaled, turning to pull himself back up into Rib’s saddle.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re done here.”
Chapter 3
“He actually breathed ice,” Rib told Gavin yet again. “It was the strangest thing I’ve witnessed come out of his mouth- and that’s saying something.”
His friend smiled distractedly, closing the inn’s stable doors for the evening before any of his monigons came racing out. “He sounds interesting.”
“Yeah…”
I wonder where he’s gone now.
Rib looked at the lowering sun, an idea striking him. Grinning, he turned to Gavin.
“Let’s find him,” he said. “Right now. You’ll never meet anyone like him.”
Gavin leaned against the stable wall, an amused smile on his lips. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“No, it’s not!” Rib protested, growing excited. “You could get on my back and we’d fly out-”
“Fly?” Gavin laughed as he shook his head. “You’re just making it worse.”
He always turns me down. What does he have against flying?
“Why won’t you trust me?” Rib complained. “You know I’d never let you fall. Come on.”
“It’s getting dark.”
“Then we’ll go tomorrow.”
“Mortaug has more work for me to do then.”
“Oh, come on.” Rib was relentless. “Have fun with me.”
Gavin rapped his knuckles on the wooden siding to a beat. “You wouldn’t fare well as a human, my friend,” he commented. “Be glad you can live your life so frivolously as to hunt and play your days away.”
“Hey, I do more than that.” Rib felt the sudden need to defend himself. “I just told you how I helped cure Lynx.”
His friend didn’t say anything, but pulled a small flute from his vest and put it to his lips.
Rib watched him, slightly irritated. Usually he loved when Gavin’s music formed a new atmosphere around them, except for times like these when his friend used it to drop a conversation.
Fine, Rib thought. So he doesn’t want to go anywhere.
What’s something else we can do?
Rib tried to think of anything fun Gavin might be willing to try with him, but his friend’s melody was distracting him.
How does he just make up songs like this? If I could do that, I’d never be bored…
Shutting his eyes, he focused on the soft melancholy notes. Right as he did so, a vision of his lost sister blossomed in his mind.
Memory?
How breathtakingly clear she was, as if he’d been staring at her for hours. Rib couldn’t tell if he was still holding his mouth shut or if it was gaping open as he stared into the darkness of his closed eyelids.
So real…
Memory looked just as she had in his dream. Every scale, every speck of light caught in her eyes, that same curious expression.
Rib swallowed nervously. He’d had vivid pictures like this in his mind before, but never of his sister. He wanted to open his eyes and see her in front of him, actually there. He wanted to speak to her.
But what would I say?
As Gavin changed his melody to something happier, the vision of Memory faded from Rib’s imagination.
Wait! he thought, feeling frantic. He tried to bring her face back to mind, but nothing so vivid as before would come. All he could conjure up was the ghostly image of her eyes, and even that only lasted a moment.
I’m sorry, he formed the words in his head, wishing Memory could hear them. If I had just stayed with you that day…They’d have taken me too, and then we’d be together.
At least then I wouldn’t have to struggle to picture your face.
Gavin’s new music sounded fit for a festival. Rib studied the intricate dance his friend’s fingers did to plug the right holes of the flute at the right time.
It was like she was right in front of me when I had my eyes closed.
“Can’t you play that other song you were playing?” he asked.
His friend shook his head, pausing between notes to say, “Forgot it already.”
Rib sighed in disappointment and studied the woodgrain of the stable doors. He could hear Gavin’s monigons scratching and whimpering inside the building as Gavin’s song drew to an end.
They want to be out here with us, Rib thought, reminded yet again of his sister.
Poor Memory…She must be so sad…so lonely.
The young man lowered the flute from his mouth, lightly thumping it against his pant leg.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Huh?” Rib looked at him.
“You look thoughtful. What’s on your mind?”
“Oh.” Rib hesitated. He hadn’t told Gavin about his dream yet. It was one of those things that felt real and important, until he considered speaking it out loud. Then it just sounded daft.
Gavin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still leaning against the building. “If you don’t want to tell me, don’t worry about it.”
“No,” Rib said quickly, the desire to tell his secret suddenly flaring up at the fear of his friend losing interest. “I want to.”
His eyes focused on an indent in the ground where a dislodged stone lay not far away, as he wondered how to word his thoughts. He often found interest in unremarkable things whenever he endeavored to discuss a sensitive topic like this.
“Have you…” he began, “ever dreamt of something you thought was real?”
“Sure I have. That’s what dreams are like.”
“Yeah, but. It was- I mean…can people ever share dreams?”
Gavin closed one eye contemplatively.
“I’m not sure. I’ve heard of stories like that. Why?”
Rib told him of his dream about his sister, and how he heard the name Memory just before he woke up. Not once did Gavin interrupt. Only his monigons made noise, whining like dogs.
“Do you think that could be her real name?” Rib implored his friend when he’d finished telling him everything. “Like she somehow relayed it to me through our dreams?”
Gavin frowned slightly, scratching his head with the end of his flute.
“I highly doubt it,” he answered. “But then again, can’t say that I know what dragonkind is capable of. Either way, it’s good you have a name for her now, right?”
Memory.
Rib anxiously ran his tongue over the sharp points of his teeth. “I don’t know,” he said. “What if I really did just imagine it? I can’t name her anything.”
His friend gave him a funny look. “Rib, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like no one was closer to her than you. You need a name to know her by. It’s not scandalous if you’re the one who thought of it.”
Blowing a bit of dirt off his instrument, Gavin brought the flute back to his mouth and started up a gentle tune. Rib considered his words, reluctant though he saw the reasoning behind them.
It’s just not the way it’s done…
Right then, Jasper came running up to them, doubling over with hands on knees.
“Rib!” the boy panted. “I just saw a man and- a dragon- looking for Wizard Damon.”
“What?!” Rib stared at Jasper. “Was it my sister? Where’d they go?”
Finally catching his breath, the boy straightened, a cunning look in his eye. “Let me ride on your back,” he proposed, “and then I’ll tell you.”
“There’s no time for that!” Rib cried. “Tell me where they went! Was it my sister or not?”
Jasper crossed his arms and clamped his mouth shut.
“Gavin!” Rib swiveled his eyes to his friend for help. The young man had already started for the inn.
“Did you talk to them?” Rib begged the stubborn child.
Squinting his eyes, Jasper nodded his head.
“I was the only one brave enough to talk to them!” he boasted, then sealed his lips again.
Where’s Mortaug? Rib thought desperately. Memory could be leaving right this moment!
Back from the inn, Gavin arrived with the boy’s father, who knelt down in front of Jasper and made a series of forceful hand motions.
The boy objected at first, but eventually lowered his head and scuffed at the dirt, pointing in a direction with his ordinary hand.
Mortaug turned around and waved Rib in the same direction.
“They’re headed for the Wizard,” Gavin told Rib. “Go!”
“Thank you!” Rib exclaimed as he took off for home, eyes sweeping the ground below as he went.
Could it be Memory? With Zheal?
What should I do if it is?
He beat his wings frantically. Realizing they could just as easily be in the air, he swung his head around in all directions, searching for movement.
Why would Zheal want to come to Damon with my sister?
Could he be good now? Like Mortaug?
Rib was flying just as hard as he had when Mortaug chased him years ago. Except now with his wings large and his energy abundant, he was able to go much faster.
Still, he spotted no one.
Where are they?!
He was just now approaching the Swaine, fearing he might have passed them in his rush.
Should I turn back? Could they have gone the long way?
Then he spotted something ahead. Flying low and towards the distant forest, a dark shape pumped its wings. Focusing his eyes, Rib was able to see a smaller figure riding on its back.
That must be them!
Not caring whether he should be stealthy or not, Rib pressed forward and positioned himself to swoop towards them. But as he came up behind them, he studied the black, white, and yellow pattern of the dragon’s hide and knew it wasn’t his sister.
Hefty disappointment weighed down on him, but curiosity still made him fly up beside them and ask, “Who are you?”
With a yelp, the dragon jerked away from him, nearly throwing her rider off. Quickly, the newcomer peeled away from Rib and landed on the ground, spinning to face him.
“Sorry!” Rib called out, collapsing his wings against his side to alight before her.
As the dragon peered at him, her wide eyes softened and she relaxed her body.
“I’m sorry,” Rib repeated, now taking a look at her rider, an adult man. His hair was red and wavy, stopping at his shoulders. He had a mustache that ended on each side with an upward curve, and his chin bore a meager beard.
“I say!” the rider exclaimed, jumping down from his seat. Rib was intrigued by his kilt designed with a multitude of greens and dark yellows. A matching sash crossed over his large belly and chest. Pinned to it was a golden broach with the engraving of a unicorn.
“What a fantastic color you are!” the strange man said. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“You…” Rib blinked, taken aback. “You can see firebloom?”
“Is that what it’s called?” The man was clearly delighted. “Fascinating.”
“Excuse me, but,” Rib shook his head in confusion, “who are you?”
“Ah,” the man placed a hand flat against his chest in pride, “I am Prince Griffith of Crageria, and this is my good companion, Oriole.”
The dragon grinned broadly, dipping her head. “Hello.”
Hello? Isn’t she shocked to see me, another dragon? Doesn’t she know how rare we are?!
“Hello,” Rib answered hesitantly. “Um, I thought Crageria was in ruins near Cliffport. Have you been…living there all this time?”
Prince Griffith looked shocked. “Why, no!” he said, offended. “That castle was little more than a speck of my kingdom. The true magnificence of Crageria remains across seas from here.”
“Oh.” Rib widened his eyes in surprise. “You flew all the way here?”
Both the Prince and Oriole laughed heartily at this and Rib took it as a ‘no’.
“And what is your name?” Prince Griffith asked, beaming behind his ruddy facial hair.
“Rib.”
“Oh, what a lovely name,” Oriole sighed dreamily. “That’s my favorite part of a deer…”
“Well, Rib, I’ll tell you this,” Prince Griffith said, casually leaning against his dragon companion’s side. “I find it positively dreadful that you thought my kingdom to be a mere pile of rocks on the coast. You simply must visit Crageria some time.”
“Could I?” Rib asked, surprised. “How kind of you to offer.”
“Indeed.” The man nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. “Perhaps you’ll even decide to stay, as Oriole did!”
What?
Rib cocked his head, looking to the female. “Where were you before?”
Oriole opened her mouth, but Prince Griffith placed a hand on her snout and interrupted, “That, she would be glad to tell you. But first, can you tell us where the Great Wizard Damon lives?”
“Yes,” Rib agreed, happy that the Wizard had visitors. “Right this way.”
“Splendid!” Prince Griffith mounted the colorful saddle strapped to Oriole’s back and Rib took off, checking to make sure they were following.
What strangers! he marveled, heading over the spring green forest.
A tinge of sadness haunted him, though, as he thought again of his sister.
Someday, he promised himself. Someday.
- - - - -
Rib lay around the fire with Tyrone’s family and the two visitors. Night had long ago fallen and they were waiting for Damon to come home, meanwhile listening to Oriole’s story of what had happened to the colony of dragons after they left Wystil over fifteen years ago.
“So the Colony landed on the ship before it reached the Island?” Theora asked with much interest, hugging her sleeping youngest child close. Rib hadn’t expected her to be so familiar with Oriole, but apparently they’d known each other in the past, when the Colony still lived in the area.
The white features of Oriole’s face glowed orange by the brazier’s fire and she nodded. “We were all so tired flying over those waters, we just had to land. But the Huskhns on the ship were terrified of us! Some even jumped overboard before they climbed into their boats and rowed away. A good thing, too, because then all their captives were free.”
“How many captives were there?” Tyrone inquired, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, two dozen, maybe? Poor them, they’re children had all been taken away before we arrived. The youngest person there must have been little more than a striker.”
Rib saw Tyrone lean over to whisper something to his son, who giggled and continued digging a stick into the soft ground.
The Huskhns take everyone! Rib thought. My sister, those poor people…
Why doesn’t anyone stop them?
“Must have been a bad storm that hit,” Theora prompted Oriole.
“Oh, it was dreadful!” the dragon cried loud enough to wake the child on Theora’s lap. “And since the captain and the crew had all been killed, no one could do anything about it. We were thrown around for days until the ship crashed.”
“What about the Huskhns that came to the Island?” Rib changed the subject from where he lay, both foreclaws in front of him. “Why did they show up?”
“That was a long time after we landed,” Oriole clarified. “Not much happened. Just, men came and demanded something of the Islanders. A potion, I think.”
What about Memory? Rib pulled his tail around his body in nervous energy.
“Was a dragon with them?” he urged.
Oriole looked thoughtful, gazing at the treetops. “No, I don’t recall one.”
Rib settled back in disappointment.
“What potion did the Huskhns want?” Tyrone asked, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Oriole simpered. “I’m not even sure that’s what they wanted.”
Tyrone whispered something to Theora that Rib didn’t catch.
Griffith, who had been rather quiet throughout this conversation, now said, “Do tell them how we came to meet, Oriole,” and clapped her on the shoulder wing.
Oriole’s face split into a grin. “Well, I had been flying through the vapor fields when I found some lost Cragerians. They had come to the Island for the Royal Well as their Queen requested and got lost on their way back to their ships.
“So I helped them and they invited me to come meet the royal family, such an honor! They insisted the Queen would be glad to meet me.”
“Mother always favored me over my elder brother,” Prince Griffith interrupted. “So she gave me the Royal Well instead.
“They say the Royal Well enables kings to look into the hearts of their subjects and know whether they are faithful or not. And my, is it fascinating! Ever since I acquired the Eyes of Kings, I’ve been seeing things entirely differently.”
Prince Griffith leaned forward and smugly looked each one of them in the eye, as though proving a point. A beetle flew into his face and he smacked it down.
“That’s when Oriole told me of the Great Wizard Damon, and so here I am. Here to- Damon!” the man exclaimed suddenly, jumping up in his kilt. “You must be him!”
Rib looked to where the Prince was now headed to see the Wizard come from the woods. With a book held to his chest, Damon stopped in his tracks and watched the stranger running up to meet him.
“Hello, Great Wizard,” Griffith wheezed, though he hadn’t run very far at all. “I am Prince Griffith of Crageria, here to learn the ways of magic under your wise guidance. Legends have been told of the Cragerian man who came to you, offering the Royal Well so there would be peace between our kingdoms when you became king. They say you disappeared, but now I’ve found you. As you can see, I have both a firebreather and the Eyes of Kings. So please, Great Wizard! Accept me as your apprentice.”
The man stood straight up, red mustache ruffled by the breeze as he held out his hand to Damon. Another beetle flew into Griffith’s eye and he cursed, smashing it in his fist.
Damon stared silently at the man for a few seconds. Rib drew a little closer.
What will he say?
Twice, the Wizard’s mouth opened and closed.
Then, with a single shake of his hairy head, he began striding towards his hut.
“Sir, please reconsider!” Griffith cried, trailing after him. “I am a man of great potential!”
There was a small laugh behind Rib and he turned to see Theora struggling to hide her amusement. Both her sons, wide awake now after all the man’s yelling, burst out giggling but Tyrone hushed them.
Rib saw Oriole staring after the two men, wings and tail drooping.
He approached her cautiously.
“I thought Damon would accept,” Oriole uttered as Rib pulled up beside her. “I told Griffith he would!”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” Rib whispered, stalking closer to Damon’s shelter. “Let’s see.”
The two dragons came close to the shabby construction and peered through the doorway at the scene inside. Damon had set his book down on the table and was now moving around the cramped area, rearranging a number of dead things, both plants and animals. Prince Griffith had both hands flat on the table as he leaned over and pleaded with the Wizard.
“I know you don’t have a firebreather anymore, so think! Think what I have to offer. With Oriole and I, you have no need to worry!”
“A firebreather on these grounds is no consolation to me,” Damon said, finally facing the prince. “I ask you both to leave immediately.”
“If it’s the madness you are thinking of,” Griffith protested, “surely you have some way of preventing it. No Sir, we will not leave!”
Damon turned his back on the man.
Rib could hear Prince Griffith grind his teeth in frustration. The sound stopped, however, when the large man’s eyes fell on Damon’s book. With meaty hands, he slid it towards himself and flipped through a few pages, all the while bringing it closer and closer to his face in clear amazement. He shut it silently, apparently unnoticed by Damon.
“Fine,” the prince declared, shoving the book under his arm as he stepped further into the hut. “But I cannot be repressed! If you will not have me as your apprentice-” he kicked the cauldron above the dragon fire, causing the liquid inside it to slosh out and drown the flame, “then I will be the only wizard!”
Rib gaped as Griffith pushed past him to jump on Oriole’s back and Damon yelled.
What did he just do?!
“Fly, Oriole!” Prince Griffith demanded, brutally clacking his heels against her sides. “Now!”
“Oh!” the dragon exclaimed and leapt away just as Damon burst from his hut. She cast everyone a panicked look before taking off and flying head long into newly appeared fog, Griffith still commanding her to hurry.
“Wait!” the Wizard shouted after them, spittle flying from his mouth and into his fraying beard. “They stole my potion book!”
He stared wildly at Rib. “Go after them!”
“What?!” Rib cried. “What if they fight me?”
Damon exclaimed something under his breath and he darted back into his hut, kneeling at the brazier to burrow his bare hands into the sodden firewood. “Gone…not an ember!”
“Damon?” Tyrone entered the hut.
The Wizard turned to him, a crazed look in his eye.
“Can’t you see?” he rasped. “Now anything can happen and I’ll have no defense against it!”
Tyrone looked at Rib. “Please just go after them. Try and convince them to come back. Tell them Damon accepts their request after all.”
“Alright,” Rib consented, backing up. “But I don’t know if-”
“Go!” Damon yelled at him, and so he took off without another word.
I’ve never seen the Wizard like this!
Rib went in the direction he’d seen Oriole go, rising into the fog that smothered the forest.
Oh! He spotted the dragon through the low clouds with her rider hunched over. But as he pursued, his attention was swiveled to another dragon, running along the ground with its own rider.
What?!
Rib halted, beating his wings to hover in place as his eyes flicked from one dragon to the other. He could tell by the large size of the flying one’s rider that it was Oriole and Griffith.
So who was that? Rib peered through the fog where he’d glimpsed the second dragon. Could it be…
Memory?
Hope and longing taking over, Rib dove after the place he’d seen the stranger and its mysterious rider, landing on the ground. Desperately, he stared into the dark woods but saw nothing. He ran in the direction he thought they’d gone but soon realized it was too late. The fog was too thick and he hadn’t the sense of smell to track them with.
I missed them!
Rib trembled where he stood, breath shuddering from his lungs. The dark shapes of trees all around him were barely even visible. He strived to think of whomever else it could have been that’d just escaped him, but no one came to mind. There was only one possibility he could imagine.
Was it her?
“He actually breathed ice,” Rib told Gavin yet again. “It was the strangest thing I’ve witnessed come out of his mouth- and that’s saying something.”
His friend smiled distractedly, closing the inn’s stable doors for the evening before any of his monigons came racing out. “He sounds interesting.”
“Yeah…”
I wonder where he’s gone now.
Rib looked at the lowering sun, an idea striking him. Grinning, he turned to Gavin.
“Let’s find him,” he said. “Right now. You’ll never meet anyone like him.”
Gavin leaned against the stable wall, an amused smile on his lips. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“No, it’s not!” Rib protested, growing excited. “You could get on my back and we’d fly out-”
“Fly?” Gavin laughed as he shook his head. “You’re just making it worse.”
He always turns me down. What does he have against flying?
“Why won’t you trust me?” Rib complained. “You know I’d never let you fall. Come on.”
“It’s getting dark.”
“Then we’ll go tomorrow.”
“Mortaug has more work for me to do then.”
“Oh, come on.” Rib was relentless. “Have fun with me.”
Gavin rapped his knuckles on the wooden siding to a beat. “You wouldn’t fare well as a human, my friend,” he commented. “Be glad you can live your life so frivolously as to hunt and play your days away.”
“Hey, I do more than that.” Rib felt the sudden need to defend himself. “I just told you how I helped cure Lynx.”
His friend didn’t say anything, but pulled a small flute from his vest and put it to his lips.
Rib watched him, slightly irritated. Usually he loved when Gavin’s music formed a new atmosphere around them, except for times like these when his friend used it to drop a conversation.
Fine, Rib thought. So he doesn’t want to go anywhere.
What’s something else we can do?
Rib tried to think of anything fun Gavin might be willing to try with him, but his friend’s melody was distracting him.
How does he just make up songs like this? If I could do that, I’d never be bored…
Shutting his eyes, he focused on the soft melancholy notes. Right as he did so, a vision of his lost sister blossomed in his mind.
Memory?
How breathtakingly clear she was, as if he’d been staring at her for hours. Rib couldn’t tell if he was still holding his mouth shut or if it was gaping open as he stared into the darkness of his closed eyelids.
So real…
Memory looked just as she had in his dream. Every scale, every speck of light caught in her eyes, that same curious expression.
Rib swallowed nervously. He’d had vivid pictures like this in his mind before, but never of his sister. He wanted to open his eyes and see her in front of him, actually there. He wanted to speak to her.
But what would I say?
As Gavin changed his melody to something happier, the vision of Memory faded from Rib’s imagination.
Wait! he thought, feeling frantic. He tried to bring her face back to mind, but nothing so vivid as before would come. All he could conjure up was the ghostly image of her eyes, and even that only lasted a moment.
I’m sorry, he formed the words in his head, wishing Memory could hear them. If I had just stayed with you that day…They’d have taken me too, and then we’d be together.
At least then I wouldn’t have to struggle to picture your face.
Gavin’s new music sounded fit for a festival. Rib studied the intricate dance his friend’s fingers did to plug the right holes of the flute at the right time.
It was like she was right in front of me when I had my eyes closed.
“Can’t you play that other song you were playing?” he asked.
His friend shook his head, pausing between notes to say, “Forgot it already.”
Rib sighed in disappointment and studied the woodgrain of the stable doors. He could hear Gavin’s monigons scratching and whimpering inside the building as Gavin’s song drew to an end.
They want to be out here with us, Rib thought, reminded yet again of his sister.
Poor Memory…She must be so sad…so lonely.
The young man lowered the flute from his mouth, lightly thumping it against his pant leg.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Huh?” Rib looked at him.
“You look thoughtful. What’s on your mind?”
“Oh.” Rib hesitated. He hadn’t told Gavin about his dream yet. It was one of those things that felt real and important, until he considered speaking it out loud. Then it just sounded daft.
Gavin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still leaning against the building. “If you don’t want to tell me, don’t worry about it.”
“No,” Rib said quickly, the desire to tell his secret suddenly flaring up at the fear of his friend losing interest. “I want to.”
His eyes focused on an indent in the ground where a dislodged stone lay not far away, as he wondered how to word his thoughts. He often found interest in unremarkable things whenever he endeavored to discuss a sensitive topic like this.
“Have you…” he began, “ever dreamt of something you thought was real?”
“Sure I have. That’s what dreams are like.”
“Yeah, but. It was- I mean…can people ever share dreams?”
Gavin closed one eye contemplatively.
“I’m not sure. I’ve heard of stories like that. Why?”
Rib told him of his dream about his sister, and how he heard the name Memory just before he woke up. Not once did Gavin interrupt. Only his monigons made noise, whining like dogs.
“Do you think that could be her real name?” Rib implored his friend when he’d finished telling him everything. “Like she somehow relayed it to me through our dreams?”
Gavin frowned slightly, scratching his head with the end of his flute.
“I highly doubt it,” he answered. “But then again, can’t say that I know what dragonkind is capable of. Either way, it’s good you have a name for her now, right?”
Memory.
Rib anxiously ran his tongue over the sharp points of his teeth. “I don’t know,” he said. “What if I really did just imagine it? I can’t name her anything.”
His friend gave him a funny look. “Rib, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like no one was closer to her than you. You need a name to know her by. It’s not scandalous if you’re the one who thought of it.”
Blowing a bit of dirt off his instrument, Gavin brought the flute back to his mouth and started up a gentle tune. Rib considered his words, reluctant though he saw the reasoning behind them.
It’s just not the way it’s done…
Right then, Jasper came running up to them, doubling over with hands on knees.
“Rib!” the boy panted. “I just saw a man and- a dragon- looking for Wizard Damon.”
“What?!” Rib stared at Jasper. “Was it my sister? Where’d they go?”
Finally catching his breath, the boy straightened, a cunning look in his eye. “Let me ride on your back,” he proposed, “and then I’ll tell you.”
“There’s no time for that!” Rib cried. “Tell me where they went! Was it my sister or not?”
Jasper crossed his arms and clamped his mouth shut.
“Gavin!” Rib swiveled his eyes to his friend for help. The young man had already started for the inn.
“Did you talk to them?” Rib begged the stubborn child.
Squinting his eyes, Jasper nodded his head.
“I was the only one brave enough to talk to them!” he boasted, then sealed his lips again.
Where’s Mortaug? Rib thought desperately. Memory could be leaving right this moment!
Back from the inn, Gavin arrived with the boy’s father, who knelt down in front of Jasper and made a series of forceful hand motions.
The boy objected at first, but eventually lowered his head and scuffed at the dirt, pointing in a direction with his ordinary hand.
Mortaug turned around and waved Rib in the same direction.
“They’re headed for the Wizard,” Gavin told Rib. “Go!”
“Thank you!” Rib exclaimed as he took off for home, eyes sweeping the ground below as he went.
Could it be Memory? With Zheal?
What should I do if it is?
He beat his wings frantically. Realizing they could just as easily be in the air, he swung his head around in all directions, searching for movement.
Why would Zheal want to come to Damon with my sister?
Could he be good now? Like Mortaug?
Rib was flying just as hard as he had when Mortaug chased him years ago. Except now with his wings large and his energy abundant, he was able to go much faster.
Still, he spotted no one.
Where are they?!
He was just now approaching the Swaine, fearing he might have passed them in his rush.
Should I turn back? Could they have gone the long way?
Then he spotted something ahead. Flying low and towards the distant forest, a dark shape pumped its wings. Focusing his eyes, Rib was able to see a smaller figure riding on its back.
That must be them!
Not caring whether he should be stealthy or not, Rib pressed forward and positioned himself to swoop towards them. But as he came up behind them, he studied the black, white, and yellow pattern of the dragon’s hide and knew it wasn’t his sister.
Hefty disappointment weighed down on him, but curiosity still made him fly up beside them and ask, “Who are you?”
With a yelp, the dragon jerked away from him, nearly throwing her rider off. Quickly, the newcomer peeled away from Rib and landed on the ground, spinning to face him.
“Sorry!” Rib called out, collapsing his wings against his side to alight before her.
As the dragon peered at him, her wide eyes softened and she relaxed her body.
“I’m sorry,” Rib repeated, now taking a look at her rider, an adult man. His hair was red and wavy, stopping at his shoulders. He had a mustache that ended on each side with an upward curve, and his chin bore a meager beard.
“I say!” the rider exclaimed, jumping down from his seat. Rib was intrigued by his kilt designed with a multitude of greens and dark yellows. A matching sash crossed over his large belly and chest. Pinned to it was a golden broach with the engraving of a unicorn.
“What a fantastic color you are!” the strange man said. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“You…” Rib blinked, taken aback. “You can see firebloom?”
“Is that what it’s called?” The man was clearly delighted. “Fascinating.”
“Excuse me, but,” Rib shook his head in confusion, “who are you?”
“Ah,” the man placed a hand flat against his chest in pride, “I am Prince Griffith of Crageria, and this is my good companion, Oriole.”
The dragon grinned broadly, dipping her head. “Hello.”
Hello? Isn’t she shocked to see me, another dragon? Doesn’t she know how rare we are?!
“Hello,” Rib answered hesitantly. “Um, I thought Crageria was in ruins near Cliffport. Have you been…living there all this time?”
Prince Griffith looked shocked. “Why, no!” he said, offended. “That castle was little more than a speck of my kingdom. The true magnificence of Crageria remains across seas from here.”
“Oh.” Rib widened his eyes in surprise. “You flew all the way here?”
Both the Prince and Oriole laughed heartily at this and Rib took it as a ‘no’.
“And what is your name?” Prince Griffith asked, beaming behind his ruddy facial hair.
“Rib.”
“Oh, what a lovely name,” Oriole sighed dreamily. “That’s my favorite part of a deer…”
“Well, Rib, I’ll tell you this,” Prince Griffith said, casually leaning against his dragon companion’s side. “I find it positively dreadful that you thought my kingdom to be a mere pile of rocks on the coast. You simply must visit Crageria some time.”
“Could I?” Rib asked, surprised. “How kind of you to offer.”
“Indeed.” The man nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. “Perhaps you’ll even decide to stay, as Oriole did!”
What?
Rib cocked his head, looking to the female. “Where were you before?”
Oriole opened her mouth, but Prince Griffith placed a hand on her snout and interrupted, “That, she would be glad to tell you. But first, can you tell us where the Great Wizard Damon lives?”
“Yes,” Rib agreed, happy that the Wizard had visitors. “Right this way.”
“Splendid!” Prince Griffith mounted the colorful saddle strapped to Oriole’s back and Rib took off, checking to make sure they were following.
What strangers! he marveled, heading over the spring green forest.
A tinge of sadness haunted him, though, as he thought again of his sister.
Someday, he promised himself. Someday.
- - - - -
Rib lay around the fire with Tyrone’s family and the two visitors. Night had long ago fallen and they were waiting for Damon to come home, meanwhile listening to Oriole’s story of what had happened to the colony of dragons after they left Wystil over fifteen years ago.
“So the Colony landed on the ship before it reached the Island?” Theora asked with much interest, hugging her sleeping youngest child close. Rib hadn’t expected her to be so familiar with Oriole, but apparently they’d known each other in the past, when the Colony still lived in the area.
The white features of Oriole’s face glowed orange by the brazier’s fire and she nodded. “We were all so tired flying over those waters, we just had to land. But the Huskhns on the ship were terrified of us! Some even jumped overboard before they climbed into their boats and rowed away. A good thing, too, because then all their captives were free.”
“How many captives were there?” Tyrone inquired, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, two dozen, maybe? Poor them, they’re children had all been taken away before we arrived. The youngest person there must have been little more than a striker.”
Rib saw Tyrone lean over to whisper something to his son, who giggled and continued digging a stick into the soft ground.
The Huskhns take everyone! Rib thought. My sister, those poor people…
Why doesn’t anyone stop them?
“Must have been a bad storm that hit,” Theora prompted Oriole.
“Oh, it was dreadful!” the dragon cried loud enough to wake the child on Theora’s lap. “And since the captain and the crew had all been killed, no one could do anything about it. We were thrown around for days until the ship crashed.”
“What about the Huskhns that came to the Island?” Rib changed the subject from where he lay, both foreclaws in front of him. “Why did they show up?”
“That was a long time after we landed,” Oriole clarified. “Not much happened. Just, men came and demanded something of the Islanders. A potion, I think.”
What about Memory? Rib pulled his tail around his body in nervous energy.
“Was a dragon with them?” he urged.
Oriole looked thoughtful, gazing at the treetops. “No, I don’t recall one.”
Rib settled back in disappointment.
“What potion did the Huskhns want?” Tyrone asked, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Oriole simpered. “I’m not even sure that’s what they wanted.”
Tyrone whispered something to Theora that Rib didn’t catch.
Griffith, who had been rather quiet throughout this conversation, now said, “Do tell them how we came to meet, Oriole,” and clapped her on the shoulder wing.
Oriole’s face split into a grin. “Well, I had been flying through the vapor fields when I found some lost Cragerians. They had come to the Island for the Royal Well as their Queen requested and got lost on their way back to their ships.
“So I helped them and they invited me to come meet the royal family, such an honor! They insisted the Queen would be glad to meet me.”
“Mother always favored me over my elder brother,” Prince Griffith interrupted. “So she gave me the Royal Well instead.
“They say the Royal Well enables kings to look into the hearts of their subjects and know whether they are faithful or not. And my, is it fascinating! Ever since I acquired the Eyes of Kings, I’ve been seeing things entirely differently.”
Prince Griffith leaned forward and smugly looked each one of them in the eye, as though proving a point. A beetle flew into his face and he smacked it down.
“That’s when Oriole told me of the Great Wizard Damon, and so here I am. Here to- Damon!” the man exclaimed suddenly, jumping up in his kilt. “You must be him!”
Rib looked to where the Prince was now headed to see the Wizard come from the woods. With a book held to his chest, Damon stopped in his tracks and watched the stranger running up to meet him.
“Hello, Great Wizard,” Griffith wheezed, though he hadn’t run very far at all. “I am Prince Griffith of Crageria, here to learn the ways of magic under your wise guidance. Legends have been told of the Cragerian man who came to you, offering the Royal Well so there would be peace between our kingdoms when you became king. They say you disappeared, but now I’ve found you. As you can see, I have both a firebreather and the Eyes of Kings. So please, Great Wizard! Accept me as your apprentice.”
The man stood straight up, red mustache ruffled by the breeze as he held out his hand to Damon. Another beetle flew into Griffith’s eye and he cursed, smashing it in his fist.
Damon stared silently at the man for a few seconds. Rib drew a little closer.
What will he say?
Twice, the Wizard’s mouth opened and closed.
Then, with a single shake of his hairy head, he began striding towards his hut.
“Sir, please reconsider!” Griffith cried, trailing after him. “I am a man of great potential!”
There was a small laugh behind Rib and he turned to see Theora struggling to hide her amusement. Both her sons, wide awake now after all the man’s yelling, burst out giggling but Tyrone hushed them.
Rib saw Oriole staring after the two men, wings and tail drooping.
He approached her cautiously.
“I thought Damon would accept,” Oriole uttered as Rib pulled up beside her. “I told Griffith he would!”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” Rib whispered, stalking closer to Damon’s shelter. “Let’s see.”
The two dragons came close to the shabby construction and peered through the doorway at the scene inside. Damon had set his book down on the table and was now moving around the cramped area, rearranging a number of dead things, both plants and animals. Prince Griffith had both hands flat on the table as he leaned over and pleaded with the Wizard.
“I know you don’t have a firebreather anymore, so think! Think what I have to offer. With Oriole and I, you have no need to worry!”
“A firebreather on these grounds is no consolation to me,” Damon said, finally facing the prince. “I ask you both to leave immediately.”
“If it’s the madness you are thinking of,” Griffith protested, “surely you have some way of preventing it. No Sir, we will not leave!”
Damon turned his back on the man.
Rib could hear Prince Griffith grind his teeth in frustration. The sound stopped, however, when the large man’s eyes fell on Damon’s book. With meaty hands, he slid it towards himself and flipped through a few pages, all the while bringing it closer and closer to his face in clear amazement. He shut it silently, apparently unnoticed by Damon.
“Fine,” the prince declared, shoving the book under his arm as he stepped further into the hut. “But I cannot be repressed! If you will not have me as your apprentice-” he kicked the cauldron above the dragon fire, causing the liquid inside it to slosh out and drown the flame, “then I will be the only wizard!”
Rib gaped as Griffith pushed past him to jump on Oriole’s back and Damon yelled.
What did he just do?!
“Fly, Oriole!” Prince Griffith demanded, brutally clacking his heels against her sides. “Now!”
“Oh!” the dragon exclaimed and leapt away just as Damon burst from his hut. She cast everyone a panicked look before taking off and flying head long into newly appeared fog, Griffith still commanding her to hurry.
“Wait!” the Wizard shouted after them, spittle flying from his mouth and into his fraying beard. “They stole my potion book!”
He stared wildly at Rib. “Go after them!”
“What?!” Rib cried. “What if they fight me?”
Damon exclaimed something under his breath and he darted back into his hut, kneeling at the brazier to burrow his bare hands into the sodden firewood. “Gone…not an ember!”
“Damon?” Tyrone entered the hut.
The Wizard turned to him, a crazed look in his eye.
“Can’t you see?” he rasped. “Now anything can happen and I’ll have no defense against it!”
Tyrone looked at Rib. “Please just go after them. Try and convince them to come back. Tell them Damon accepts their request after all.”
“Alright,” Rib consented, backing up. “But I don’t know if-”
“Go!” Damon yelled at him, and so he took off without another word.
I’ve never seen the Wizard like this!
Rib went in the direction he’d seen Oriole go, rising into the fog that smothered the forest.
Oh! He spotted the dragon through the low clouds with her rider hunched over. But as he pursued, his attention was swiveled to another dragon, running along the ground with its own rider.
What?!
Rib halted, beating his wings to hover in place as his eyes flicked from one dragon to the other. He could tell by the large size of the flying one’s rider that it was Oriole and Griffith.
So who was that? Rib peered through the fog where he’d glimpsed the second dragon. Could it be…
Memory?
Hope and longing taking over, Rib dove after the place he’d seen the stranger and its mysterious rider, landing on the ground. Desperately, he stared into the dark woods but saw nothing. He ran in the direction he thought they’d gone but soon realized it was too late. The fog was too thick and he hadn’t the sense of smell to track them with.
I missed them!
Rib trembled where he stood, breath shuddering from his lungs. The dark shapes of trees all around him were barely even visible. He strived to think of whomever else it could have been that’d just escaped him, but no one came to mind. There was only one possibility he could imagine.
Was it her?
Chapter 4
“They were right here!” Rib said, circling the place he’d stood just last night. “Running away. A dragon and a rider.”
Tyrone stepped forward and stopped Rib’s restless pacing. “I’ll take a look around.”
Rib waited anxiously as the man searched the forest floor. It was only after he and Tyrone went to Cliffport to learn that Prince Griffith had already sailed away with Oriole and Damon’s book that Tyrone agreed to help look for the strangers Rib glimpsed last night.
There was a light mist in the air, nothing compared to the heavy fog hours earlier. Birds warbled in the newly leafing canopy above, not at all reflecting the high-strung energy vibrating inside Rib.
Looking down at the ground, Rib gasped.
“Tyrone, look! Here’s a trail.”
The man barely glanced up before continuing his search, saying, “That’s yours.”
Oh. Rib felt embarrassed. Tyrone had tried to teach him tracking by sight once Rib lost his sense of smell, but he never had enough patience to learn.
“Here’s something,” Tyrone mentioned a ways away and crouched down, moving some snapped underbrush aside to reveal a few dislodged rocks. “Yes, this is what we’re looking for.”
Rib followed right behind the man as he moved further into the trees. Soon, Tyrone seemed to have picked up a clear trail, for he headed on without a word. Rib also kept his mouth shut, afraid to break the man’s concentration.
Whose trail is it? Where does it lead? Questions rattled inside his brain like the twigs he brushed past.
But what really made his muscles tense was when he considered the possibility of finding the strangers.
“Have you actually seen any tracks?” he asked, his voice low.
Tyrone pointed down at the soft turf he stepped over and Rib gawked at it. The perfect print of a dragon’s foot was pressed into the ground.
Memory?
Rib silently held his foreclaw up to it. His was only slightly bigger.
His heart pounded a little harder.
Just as Rib thought there’d be no end to the trail, the trees petered out and land opened up to green, bouldered fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Rib could see dark clouds far upland. It looked like a smear of grey on the horizon.
“Here’s where they took flight,” Tyrone said and halted at a certain spot in the mud. “The prints are deeper and you can see where the tail struck.”
“So…” Rib droned.
“So the trail ends.”
“That’s it?” he gasped. “We’ll never know who it was?”
“Well,” Tyrone scratched his chin as he thought, “it’s possible that they landed somewhere nearby. Among those rocks, maybe. Or farther down.”
“We have to see,” Rib implored. “Couldn’t this be…my sister?”
The man gazed steadily at him, his expression solemn.
“I think it could be, yes.”
Rib’s heart fluttered like a little bird caged inside his chest.
“I’m willing to split up and search the area, but you must be careful. Remember, even if by some small chance you come across your sister, she is still with a very dangerous man.”
“Yes, but…” Rib said. “What if he’s changed? You know, like Mortaug?”
Tyrone gave him a slight, grim smile. “That may be, but it doesn’t change the fact he’s avoiding us. And that’s reason enough to make me wary of him.”
Rib nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” Tyrone set off in the direction of the lower kingdom, saying, “You check up there, then. Look for prints, disturbances, stray items, any sign there might be.”
Rib did exactly as the man said, soaring low over the land with eyes flicking back and forth. What if I found my other siblings’ tracks instead? he thought. Or Tide or Lynx’s. I might get excited over nothing.
The storm approaching grumbled again. Rib could feel the warm dampness in the air.
What if the rain comes to wash all our clues away? His worries increased and he glanced up to see how close the dark clouds were now. One bolt of lightning streaked across them with a flicker.
I need to hurry, thought Rib, beating his wings for a faster glide. He aimed for the group of boulders Tyrone had indicated, but continued staring at the ground in hopes that he might spot something on his way.
But when he reached the large rocks, he found that nothing was there. Rib alighted on the tallest one, disheartened as he looked over the fields, more rolling thunder behind him. He could see Tyrone headed along a slope, too far away to hear Rib if he called.
It’s hopeless, Rib told himself bleakly. If it was Memory, we’ll never find her. She flew off.
There was some movement in the corner of his eye and he looked to it. Fluttering past him was a solitary muffle moth, practically harmless on its own. Rib narrowed his eyes at it.
Don’t those fly in swarms?
At the sound of another crack of lightning, he turned again to see the storm, but instead stared in horror at what approached.
A billowing mass of white glided over the fields, stretching the entire length of the vast fields as far as Rib could tell. The tremendous cloud was nearly upon him, like a silent avalanche.
Muffle moths!
Hundreds of thousands of them!
They’re going to reach me and then-
Tyrone!
Immediately, Rib jumped into the air and sped for the distant man. As he did, he saw more moths around him, leading the swarm. Rib flew as fast as he could, memories of his past burning in his mind. He was a young pupil again, about to be swallowed by a deadly mass of insects. Except this time, without his book and dragon fire, Damon didn’t have the means to cure him.
“Tyrone!” Rib roared as he came. The man turned to see him, visibly stiffening at the sight of the moths. The fray of the swarm was up to his tail, Rib knew.
There’s no time!
“Get down!” Rib cried. “Hold your breath!”
Tyrone did so just as Rib and the moths reached him. Clamping his own mouth shut, Rib threw himself over the man the moment the swarm had them engulfed.
So many. Rib watched in terror through his clear set of eyelids, innumerable moths flying at him, above him, all passing by. He had managed to curl his body around Tyrone, his wings acting as a barricade to keep the insects out. But nothing was there to protect him.
With the seemingly endless moths fluttering into his face, Rib couldn’t help but breathe in their thick dust. It swirled all around him, blown about by hundreds of little wings. His vision was turning white. He squeezed his outer lids shut, sobbing in fear, and lowered his head to the ground.
He knew that with every breath, he’d grow a little weaker, until he could move no more, breathe no longer.
I’m going to die, he cried inside. Damon can’t save me this time!
Scared for Tyrone, he peeked at the shelter he’d formed with his body. All the moths that ran into his wings simply glanced up and over his body. He didn’t see any get inside.
They’re clearing away now, Rib recognized the thinning of the mass. Sky was beginning to show through. And I don’t even feel like they’ve affected me…
It perplexed him how well his body responded to his mind. He wasn’t limp at all.
“Tyrone?” Rib dared open his mouth to speak, amazed that his own voice came out so clear. He was sure he had gotten dust in his mouth. He could taste it on his tongue.
“Rib!” Tyrone responded from under the dragon’s wing. “Are you alright?”
“I…I think I am. I breathed in dust but it didn’t do anything to me!”
Above, Rib heard the great roar of thunder and the sound of nearing rain. Now the moths had almost completely passed. Only a dozen or so were left behind the swarm, and Rib watched as fat raindrops pummeled them down. The dust still drifting in the air was soon weighed down by water, which dripped from Rib’s snout and ran down his wings. Blinking, Rib looked back at the immense mass of insects quickly moving down land.
They’re fleeing the storm, he realized.
“Tyrone, it looks safe now.” Rib opened himself up to let the man out. “The rain is washing everything away.”
Tyrone stared around and stood up. Water quickly soaked his hair, his tunic, everything. Checking himself over, the man turned to Rib and looked him in the eye.
“I would have died just then,” he said. “Thank you.”
Rib ducked his head. “I, um…you’re welcome.”
Together, they peered after the swarm, fast disappearing.
“This is bad,” Tyrone spoke. “If they go any farther than the Swaine, Wystil will be in trouble.”
“I’ll follow them,” Rib volunteered. “Their dust can’t hurt me anymore. You make sure your family’s alright.”
Tyrone gazed through the rain at him a moment before nodding.
Rib ascended just as a dash of lightning cracked overhead, blanching his eyesight for a startling moment. He flew low to avoid the storm clouds, looking back to make sure Tyrone was headed home. He was.
Good, Rib sighed and flew faster to escape the rain, as the moths were. It was still shocking to see how far the swarm stretched, end to end. Soon, he was leaving the storm behind and he twisted in midair to send a dazzling array of sparkling water from his vibrant hide.
He beat his wings for a long time, growing concerned as to how far the moths were migrating.
They’re passing over all the abandoned towns, Rib worried, glancing at the shabby villages and old settlements below. We’ll be reaching the Swaine soon!
No…Rib saw the curving river in the distance, saw the deathly moths pass over it. No, no, no!
Rib also soared over the Swaine, panicking. What do I do?! People live down here!
He could think of no possible way for him to stop the gigantic mass. There was no rain here. All the clouds above were a mix of brilliant white and light, light grey. Sunbeams cascaded down to shine on the abundant fields of grain and Rib watched in awe as the moths began to descend upon them. They dispersed. Each little insect hid away into the crops.
This has got to be bad, Rib knew, seeing the expansive area turn white. Great clouds of dust were left hanging in the air, swept towards villages in the distance by the breeze.
There’s nothing I can do.
Rib felt as though he were going to be sick.
I can’t stop the dust…
“They were right here!” Rib said, circling the place he’d stood just last night. “Running away. A dragon and a rider.”
Tyrone stepped forward and stopped Rib’s restless pacing. “I’ll take a look around.”
Rib waited anxiously as the man searched the forest floor. It was only after he and Tyrone went to Cliffport to learn that Prince Griffith had already sailed away with Oriole and Damon’s book that Tyrone agreed to help look for the strangers Rib glimpsed last night.
There was a light mist in the air, nothing compared to the heavy fog hours earlier. Birds warbled in the newly leafing canopy above, not at all reflecting the high-strung energy vibrating inside Rib.
Looking down at the ground, Rib gasped.
“Tyrone, look! Here’s a trail.”
The man barely glanced up before continuing his search, saying, “That’s yours.”
Oh. Rib felt embarrassed. Tyrone had tried to teach him tracking by sight once Rib lost his sense of smell, but he never had enough patience to learn.
“Here’s something,” Tyrone mentioned a ways away and crouched down, moving some snapped underbrush aside to reveal a few dislodged rocks. “Yes, this is what we’re looking for.”
Rib followed right behind the man as he moved further into the trees. Soon, Tyrone seemed to have picked up a clear trail, for he headed on without a word. Rib also kept his mouth shut, afraid to break the man’s concentration.
Whose trail is it? Where does it lead? Questions rattled inside his brain like the twigs he brushed past.
But what really made his muscles tense was when he considered the possibility of finding the strangers.
“Have you actually seen any tracks?” he asked, his voice low.
Tyrone pointed down at the soft turf he stepped over and Rib gawked at it. The perfect print of a dragon’s foot was pressed into the ground.
Memory?
Rib silently held his foreclaw up to it. His was only slightly bigger.
His heart pounded a little harder.
Just as Rib thought there’d be no end to the trail, the trees petered out and land opened up to green, bouldered fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Rib could see dark clouds far upland. It looked like a smear of grey on the horizon.
“Here’s where they took flight,” Tyrone said and halted at a certain spot in the mud. “The prints are deeper and you can see where the tail struck.”
“So…” Rib droned.
“So the trail ends.”
“That’s it?” he gasped. “We’ll never know who it was?”
“Well,” Tyrone scratched his chin as he thought, “it’s possible that they landed somewhere nearby. Among those rocks, maybe. Or farther down.”
“We have to see,” Rib implored. “Couldn’t this be…my sister?”
The man gazed steadily at him, his expression solemn.
“I think it could be, yes.”
Rib’s heart fluttered like a little bird caged inside his chest.
“I’m willing to split up and search the area, but you must be careful. Remember, even if by some small chance you come across your sister, she is still with a very dangerous man.”
“Yes, but…” Rib said. “What if he’s changed? You know, like Mortaug?”
Tyrone gave him a slight, grim smile. “That may be, but it doesn’t change the fact he’s avoiding us. And that’s reason enough to make me wary of him.”
Rib nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” Tyrone set off in the direction of the lower kingdom, saying, “You check up there, then. Look for prints, disturbances, stray items, any sign there might be.”
Rib did exactly as the man said, soaring low over the land with eyes flicking back and forth. What if I found my other siblings’ tracks instead? he thought. Or Tide or Lynx’s. I might get excited over nothing.
The storm approaching grumbled again. Rib could feel the warm dampness in the air.
What if the rain comes to wash all our clues away? His worries increased and he glanced up to see how close the dark clouds were now. One bolt of lightning streaked across them with a flicker.
I need to hurry, thought Rib, beating his wings for a faster glide. He aimed for the group of boulders Tyrone had indicated, but continued staring at the ground in hopes that he might spot something on his way.
But when he reached the large rocks, he found that nothing was there. Rib alighted on the tallest one, disheartened as he looked over the fields, more rolling thunder behind him. He could see Tyrone headed along a slope, too far away to hear Rib if he called.
It’s hopeless, Rib told himself bleakly. If it was Memory, we’ll never find her. She flew off.
There was some movement in the corner of his eye and he looked to it. Fluttering past him was a solitary muffle moth, practically harmless on its own. Rib narrowed his eyes at it.
Don’t those fly in swarms?
At the sound of another crack of lightning, he turned again to see the storm, but instead stared in horror at what approached.
A billowing mass of white glided over the fields, stretching the entire length of the vast fields as far as Rib could tell. The tremendous cloud was nearly upon him, like a silent avalanche.
Muffle moths!
Hundreds of thousands of them!
They’re going to reach me and then-
Tyrone!
Immediately, Rib jumped into the air and sped for the distant man. As he did, he saw more moths around him, leading the swarm. Rib flew as fast as he could, memories of his past burning in his mind. He was a young pupil again, about to be swallowed by a deadly mass of insects. Except this time, without his book and dragon fire, Damon didn’t have the means to cure him.
“Tyrone!” Rib roared as he came. The man turned to see him, visibly stiffening at the sight of the moths. The fray of the swarm was up to his tail, Rib knew.
There’s no time!
“Get down!” Rib cried. “Hold your breath!”
Tyrone did so just as Rib and the moths reached him. Clamping his own mouth shut, Rib threw himself over the man the moment the swarm had them engulfed.
So many. Rib watched in terror through his clear set of eyelids, innumerable moths flying at him, above him, all passing by. He had managed to curl his body around Tyrone, his wings acting as a barricade to keep the insects out. But nothing was there to protect him.
With the seemingly endless moths fluttering into his face, Rib couldn’t help but breathe in their thick dust. It swirled all around him, blown about by hundreds of little wings. His vision was turning white. He squeezed his outer lids shut, sobbing in fear, and lowered his head to the ground.
He knew that with every breath, he’d grow a little weaker, until he could move no more, breathe no longer.
I’m going to die, he cried inside. Damon can’t save me this time!
Scared for Tyrone, he peeked at the shelter he’d formed with his body. All the moths that ran into his wings simply glanced up and over his body. He didn’t see any get inside.
They’re clearing away now, Rib recognized the thinning of the mass. Sky was beginning to show through. And I don’t even feel like they’ve affected me…
It perplexed him how well his body responded to his mind. He wasn’t limp at all.
“Tyrone?” Rib dared open his mouth to speak, amazed that his own voice came out so clear. He was sure he had gotten dust in his mouth. He could taste it on his tongue.
“Rib!” Tyrone responded from under the dragon’s wing. “Are you alright?”
“I…I think I am. I breathed in dust but it didn’t do anything to me!”
Above, Rib heard the great roar of thunder and the sound of nearing rain. Now the moths had almost completely passed. Only a dozen or so were left behind the swarm, and Rib watched as fat raindrops pummeled them down. The dust still drifting in the air was soon weighed down by water, which dripped from Rib’s snout and ran down his wings. Blinking, Rib looked back at the immense mass of insects quickly moving down land.
They’re fleeing the storm, he realized.
“Tyrone, it looks safe now.” Rib opened himself up to let the man out. “The rain is washing everything away.”
Tyrone stared around and stood up. Water quickly soaked his hair, his tunic, everything. Checking himself over, the man turned to Rib and looked him in the eye.
“I would have died just then,” he said. “Thank you.”
Rib ducked his head. “I, um…you’re welcome.”
Together, they peered after the swarm, fast disappearing.
“This is bad,” Tyrone spoke. “If they go any farther than the Swaine, Wystil will be in trouble.”
“I’ll follow them,” Rib volunteered. “Their dust can’t hurt me anymore. You make sure your family’s alright.”
Tyrone gazed through the rain at him a moment before nodding.
Rib ascended just as a dash of lightning cracked overhead, blanching his eyesight for a startling moment. He flew low to avoid the storm clouds, looking back to make sure Tyrone was headed home. He was.
Good, Rib sighed and flew faster to escape the rain, as the moths were. It was still shocking to see how far the swarm stretched, end to end. Soon, he was leaving the storm behind and he twisted in midair to send a dazzling array of sparkling water from his vibrant hide.
He beat his wings for a long time, growing concerned as to how far the moths were migrating.
They’re passing over all the abandoned towns, Rib worried, glancing at the shabby villages and old settlements below. We’ll be reaching the Swaine soon!
No…Rib saw the curving river in the distance, saw the deathly moths pass over it. No, no, no!
Rib also soared over the Swaine, panicking. What do I do?! People live down here!
He could think of no possible way for him to stop the gigantic mass. There was no rain here. All the clouds above were a mix of brilliant white and light, light grey. Sunbeams cascaded down to shine on the abundant fields of grain and Rib watched in awe as the moths began to descend upon them. They dispersed. Each little insect hid away into the crops.
This has got to be bad, Rib knew, seeing the expansive area turn white. Great clouds of dust were left hanging in the air, swept towards villages in the distance by the breeze.
There’s nothing I can do.
Rib felt as though he were going to be sick.
I can’t stop the dust…
Copyright © 2016 Delaney Walnofer