Damara awoke to the sound of Faren laughing. She stirred where she lay, opening her eyes to the sideways room that flickered with warm light cast from the stove. Faren wasn’t where she’d been when Damara lay down to rest, and the house appeared empty of everyone else.
Am I the last one to awaken? Damara thought. Somehow, it embarrassed her and she gathered herself to sit up, wincing in pain as her bandaged calf chided her.
Is that snow? Damara gazed just outside to see an icy white glare battling the warm yellow light of the house. Aching terribly, she got up and limped to the doorway.
The entire scene before her eyes was covered in snow, heaping on the branches of forest pine and smothering the ground. An early winter chill met her face, making her eyes water.
She could see Tyrone not far away, loading Rosefinch with the bags of vegetables from yesterday. It looked like quite a burden, but the strong female held herself upright, looking almost proud as more weight was slung over her back.
Faren was playing in the icy garden and snowy orchard, running about with Ivory in her arms. The wyvern shrilled as Faren laughed, peering past the child’s wild red hair.
‘There’s a talking wyvern that sits on my shoulder,’ Damara recalled Faren telling her.
Hmm. What other tales of hers are true? She looked to the stables hidden behind the orchard, half wondering if she could find a griffin inside as the child had claimed. A smile played on her lips as she was reminded of how it felt to be young and gullible.
“Good morrow.” Kara startled her, waiting to enter the house with a bundle of clothes in her arms.
“Oh, sorry,” Damara said quickly, shuffling aside to let the large woman through.
Kara raised her eyebrows at her. “No need to apologize,” she replied. “Here, I dug this out of an old trunk for you. Those clothes of yours have served their purpose long enough.” She held out a dress and cloak.
“Thank you,” breathed Damara, taking them.
“Well, it’s not like I’d fit them anymore. How is that leg of yours?”
“Getting better now that you’ve treated it.”
Kara snorted. “Don’t thank me until we find what a nasty scar it leaves,” she muttered, bustling past. “I doubt it’ll be flattering on you, to say the least.”
Damara stifled a laugh. Why would I care about that?!
Tyrone nodded to Rosefinch as she took off, sacks of food dangling at her sides. Damara watched the female fly away. Against the white, seemingly feathered sky, even the dragon’s brown hide stood out like an ornament.
How long does she have to fly for? Damara wondered, squinting into the winter brilliance. Is the refugee camp far?
Still pondering this, she went inside to change into her new clothes.
On her way out again, she started. Another dragon was approaching on erratic wings. Stiffening in fear, she thought of Chasm. But as the beast banked in descent to land on the freshly powdered ground, she relaxed.
It’s only Lynx.
But still…
She curled her lip back in distaste.
The marine green dragon bobbed his head in comical self-satisfaction as two men dismounted him, heavy boots thudding the ground.
Who are they? Damara wondered, seeing the bows in their hands and quivers slung over their shoulders. And why would they ride Lynx?
Tyrone strode up to meet the newcomers, speaking words too low for Damara to catch. But as she watched him and the bowmen walk to the stables, she figured, They must be going hunting.
“Look who’s awake,” Lynx remarked, swaggering up to her. “Unsaddle me, will you? I hate how this thing hugs me.” He exposed his side to her, revealing the leather straps buckled around his neck and chest.
“No.” Damara repelled at the thought of touching him. “Ask someone else.”
“Well!” Lynx exclaimed sarcastically. “Then I guess I’ll just ask the frisk.”
The frisk? Damara followed his eyes and tensed as she realized he meant Faren.
“Fine,” she muttered, reaching out to undo the iron buckle over his plated breast. She kept frigidly silent as she walked around him to handle each clasp and buckle.
“About time!” Lynx said when she finished. He shook the saddle off and it fell with a crunch into the snow. “How did Stag bear wearing that thing all day?”
“This was Stag’s?” Damara immediately lifted the heavy saddle up from the ground, handling it with upmost respect.
Lynx gave her a funny look. “Obviously. How many dragon saddles do you think there are?”
Damara felt her face grow hot. “I just never expected anyone to let you of all dragons wear it,” she slighted.
Lynx gave a sharp laugh. “They shouldn’t! I hate that thing. I want to burn it.”
Damara said nothing, but merely reflected on how much she disliked the dragon standing in front of her.
“Where should I put it?” she finally asked, heaving the saddle up over her shoulders.
“I don’t know,” Lynx snorted. “Go throw it in the lake.”
And with that, he walked away.
Overblown whelp, she thought, watching him go.
Only when he disappeared into the woods did she carry the saddle to the stable house, finding that Tyrone and the archers had already left. I’m sure they’ll see this when they come back, she decided, tenderly placing the saddle inside.
As she exited the stable house, Faren skipped up to her, ice flakes caught in her crinkled hair.
“Damara!” the child chirruped. Ivory cocked her fair head, staring over Faren’s shoulder with deep red eyes. The claws on Ivory’s wings were snagged on the little girl’s dress, holding her in place despite her half-crippled body. Faren gave a big smile.
“Good morning,” Damara greeted.
“Kara says it’ll be harder to get food for everyone now that it snowed,” Faren said, childishly merry.
“Oh?” Damara looked to the garden weighed down by a bed of icy white.
Hopefully Tyrone will catch something.
“Come in and eat, you two!” Kara called from the house and the girls obeyed.
How can things have improved so much for me? Damara was bewildered, watching the steam unfurl from the bowl of porridge set before her. I can scarcely believe it.
But with Chasm still out there…and his clutch…
Something still needs to be done.
. . .
Tyrone and the other men returned on horseback, bringing with them a dead buck and a couple of rabbits. Damara stood nearby, anxiously waiting to talk to Tyrone. Faren shrieked as she saw the deer, burying her face in Damara’s dress.
I need to tell Tyrone about Iris’ clutch, she worried, distractedly petting Faren’s head. We need to destroy them before even more dragons like Chasm and Iris are loosed into the world. What if they’ve already hatched? How long do we have until the Strong Pack is reborn, even stronger than before?
Kara came to carry Faren away from the dead animal, telling her not to cry. Tyrone took out his knife as he knelt at the carcass, ready to skin it.
“Tyrone,” Damara spoke quickly and he looked up at her.
She bit her lip, hesitating.
“Here,” Tyrone said, handing his blade off to one of the men. “I’ll be back.”
Damara clenched her teeth as she saw the way the strangers looked at her.
Do they think I’m a witch?
Tyrone gave her a tired smile as he stood and led her into the frosted garden. “What is it?” he asked.
Damara gazed down at the snow-burdened plants, their green stalks barbed with ice. “There’s something you should know,” she mumbled, scuffing the frozen ground. A frigid wind tested her new, heavy cloak.
“Then tell me,” Tyrone welcomed openly. “I should be glad to hear it.”
Damara looked up at him, angst piercing her as she thought of Faren, Catherine, Xander…all the people she loved. She feared for their lives.
“Chasm and Iris
had a clutch,” she said.
Tyrone’s face slackened in shock. “When?”
Damara swallowed uneasily. “This past fall.”
“Then they’ll hatch this spring,” Tyrone uttered to himself, running his fingers through his short brown hair. “Do you know where the clutch is?”
“Iris said she laid it at the foot of the duchess’ tree. I know she used to be a slave of the Golden Dragon. Do you think that’s who she meant by the ‘duchess’?”
“It sounds like it…” He stared into space, clearly swarmed by thoughts.
It scares him too, Damara thought, heart wavering as her fear increased. She had hoped that he’d take it coolly and tell her that he’d handle it. Yet there he stood, overwhelmed and wordless.
Is it even worse than I imagined?
“I can’t abandon the refugees.” Tyrone gritted his teeth. “But we need to get that clutch away from Chasm…If we don’t then…No, we can’t let that happen…”
Damara listened to him think aloud. An icy twig brushed her bare ankle and she shivered, pulling her cloak tight around herself. “What are you going to do?” she asked anxiously.
Tyrone shook his head. “I’ll have to send someone out for them,” he spoke finally, stretching his lips taut. “Tide would be best…”
“But what of Chasm?!” Damara yawped.
He’ll murder Tide like he did Stag!
“Tide is small,” Tyrone said. “He can scout out the clutch’s location and come back without being noticed. He was one of the Golden Dragon’s slaves, too, so he should have a better idea of where her tree is.”
“But-” Damara protested.
“He’ll be alright,” Tyrone assured her. “How many times did he come when you were with Chasm? You only saw him because he wanted you to.”
Damara bit her lip.
He’s just so weak, she feared, recalling how he struggled to walk with her on his back. Chasm would kill him in an instant.
She opened her mouth to suggest sending Lynx instead, but Tyrone interrupted her.
“Please excuse me.”
He apologized quickly and left her where she stood, alone in the frigid garden.
. . .
Damara could do nothing but worry all throughout the day. By the time the bright winter sky dimmed to dusk, the strain had exhausted her. She sat inside with Faren and Kara, leaning her head against the table.
“Lady ghosts are always trying to steal real girls’ hair,” Faren chattered. “My brother says they wear it on their heads to make real men fall in love with them. He says it makes the ghosts feel alive again.”
Damara gave no response, tired of the child’s endless stories. She wanted Tyrone to come and put her at ease. To tell her that everything was alright, that Chasm was dead, the clutch destroyed, the kingdom safe.
She wanted to hear that she could return to her brother, welcomed and forgiven.
But Tyrone still didn’t come.
Instead, from the darkening outdoors came a sound strangely familiar to her. She lifted up her weary head, furrowing her brow. Faren also looked up, wonder filling her eyes as the queer, strung out melody pulsed through the eerie white forest.
“Ah, Clyde,” Kara said from beside the stove. She stood up, bidding the girls follow her out the door.
Clyde, Damara remembered. I nearly forgot about him. Maybe he can help us destroy the clutch!
Hope bringing life to her limbs, she limped outside to stand with Kara and Faren, staring out into the dark.
“The ghosts are singing,” Faren said in hushed tones as Clyde’s unusual song reverberated around them, from all directions it seemed.
The light of the house cast a warm glow on the snow before their feet. But beyond that, the most that could be seen was the silhouettes of the trees, with a great expanse of stars spattering the dark night sky.
Then, just as the melody reached its loudest tone, it dropped like the feather of a bird, drifting, fluttering, and finally dying out.
As enchanting as an angel walking the earth, Clyde’s silvery white form stepped into the soft glow, causing Faren to peep in fright.
“Greetings, friends,” Clyde purred.
“Hello, Clyde,” Kara responded, motioning towards the girls that stood by her side. “Meet Faren and Damara.”
Clyde turned his charming gaze on Damara. “It’s a pleasure to cross paths with you once more.”
“Do you know where Iris and Chasm’s clutch is?” she blurted.
Clyde cocked his head. “Iris and Chasm had a clutch? How very grand!”
Grand?! She wanted to ask him what he meant, but he’d settled his gaze on Faren, who clung tightly to Damara’s cloak.
“Hello, Faren,” he hummed sweetly. “You have lovely hair.”
Faren blinked up at him bewilderedly. “Are you a ghost dragon?” she whispered.
A warm chuckle rumbled from deep within Clyde’s throat. “No, I’m afraid not. But that’s an intriguing thought, all the same.”
“What brings you here?” Kara asked.
“I have heard of Stag’s death.” Clyde tucked his chin into his chest mournfully. “It brings me great sadness to know that an old friend has died. I’ve come to pay my respects.”
“We couldn’t bury him here.” Kara raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go to the ruins of Swaineford for that.”
Clyde closed his eyes, a curious smile on his lips as he breathed in. “Well, you see,” he sighed. “I should like to pay my respects in a different way. Stag has an interesting story to be told, you know.”
What is he getting at? Damara puzzled.
Beside her, Kara smiled knowingly. “Then we should like to hear it,” she replied. “Would you like to come inside?”
What?! Damara was confounded. She’d only ever seen dragons stick their heads in through doorways to peer inside, certainly not their entire body.
But Clyde was thrilled by the idea. “It’s been so long since I’ve been inside a house!”
“Come on, girls,” Kara said, brushing both Faren and Damara back inside. “Sit down so Clyde can fit through.”
Faren jumped eagerly in front of Damara as she sat in her chair. “Can I sit on your lap? Please, please!”
Damara allowed the child, still shaken by the fact that a full grown dragon was about to enter the house. How will he even fit?
She watched as Clyde stuck his head in, swiveling his eyes around the room before stepping in even further. He got in as far as his shoulders, having to pull his wings in tight to squeeze between the beams of wood. Chuckling, he wriggled and heaved to push through. There was a moment in which Damara feared the doorway would split wide apart as his silvery body filled the frame to the edges.
It was alarming for Damara to watch. Not just because the wood of the doorway creaked and groaned as the dragon forced his way in, but because it felt like an invasion on her human life.
Faren, however, couldn’t be happier. She nearly screamed with laughter, bouncing her little bottom on Damara’s sore thighs. The healing wound on Damara’s calf stung, but she paid it no mind, staring in amazement as Clyde finally pulled through.
There, he compacted himself as much as possible to avoid knocking anything over, with wings drawn in tight and all four legs gathered.
“Amazing,” he breathed, taking care not to stick his neck too far out as he gazed about, eyes filled with wonder. His silvery white body took on a yellow sheen as the light of the stove embraced him. He nearly looked golden.
“There,” Kara declared, clapping her hands once together as she sat in a chair. “A perfect fit.”
Hardly! Damara protested silently. How will he even get out? That doorway isn’t going to stand it. He’ll have to smash through the roof!
Faren’s laughing fit subsided to an unstoppable giggle, which bubbled like a stream from her childish grin. She squirmed in Damara’s arms.
“Sit still!” Damara hissed in the c
hild’s ear, aggravated as her bandaged leg was disturbed. Faren managed to calm down, sitting quietly in her lap with a mere titter escaping her lips once or twice.
Damara calmed her nerves, reminding herself that, despite Clyde’s alarming size, he was harmless by nature.
Just look at him, she reasoned with herself. He stares around at the house as if it were a wonder to behold. What beast admires architecture?
“Well,” Kara urged the dragon, settling back as though hosting a dragon inside her house was a normal practice for her. “Please do tell us- what is Stag’s story?”
Clyde grinned, charismatic despite his awkwardly cramped position. “Yes, let me think. Where is the beginning of this fascinating tale I’ve promised to tell…”
Promised? More like insisted on telling.
“First, let me say that what I am about to tell you is nothing but the absolute truth, Stag’s words and that’s all. He told me this some time ago and I’ve done my best to preserve it down to every last detail.”
Didn’t Tyrone say Stag was a dragon of few words? Damara was skeptical, but listened anyway as Clyde drew himself up and began.
“Stag,” he presented, “was a Colonist, as was his mate, Autumn- a beautiful female, whose scales caught the morning light like dewdrops on roses. As young lovers, she and Stag accepted the Gift of Fire together, a grave mistake beyond their knowledge at the time.”
He went on to tell them how rapidly life became worse for the dragons. First, the truth of the firesap’s fatal grip was revealed, then came a drought, then a battle with Wystil…He called it a series of terrible discoveries and mishaps that hit them like ocean waves against the cliffs, one after another.
The shimmering dragon drew himself up grimly and stared off. “At last, the Colony could bear it no more. They decided to abandon their cursed land and migrate over the sea, in hopes of finding someplace new.”
Clyde locked his eyes with Damara, startling her as he said, “Few people were fortunate enough to witness the leaving of the Colony. But among those special few were the Wizard, Princess Theora…and a weeping young girl, held back by her brother as the dragons disappeared over the horizon.”
Vivid memories blinded Damara as she recalled the sight. Even more keenly, she recalled the feeling of being left behind, abandoned by those she’d come to know and love.
Clyde dropped his gaze, sweeping the ground with his eyes, as he went on to tell of the Colony’s long and futile journey over endless ocean. Stag and Autumn, the dragon said, finally lost hope that they would ever find a place. And so, together they turned back.
But the lovers lost their way, with no place to land and rest during their awfully long flight.
Clyde drooped and swayed, brushing the walls with the tips of his folded wings and curled tail as he said, “Stag became weary, but Autumn even more so. He found he could do nothing as his love faltered in her flight, giving up at last to slip into the black, glossy waters.”
Clyde exhaled, slumping all the way to the ground as he hushed and closed his eyes.
His audience watched him without breathing. As Faren leaned in, captivated, Damara had to keep her from falling off her lap.
Clyde’s eye slid open, slow as a slug.
“But then,” he whispered, so quietly that Damara had to strain her ears to hear him, “something moved deep within the ocean, drawing closer and closer to the place Autumn had gone under until…”
Clyde roared, rearing up as high as the ceiling would allow. His wings fanned the flames, causing sparks to fly and light to flash. Faren yelped, jerking herself back into Damara as they stared up at the looming dragon.
“A colossal sea serpent shot up from the water, towering in the sky. Stag stared up at the beast whose massive head blocked out the sun, and it stared straight back, silent as the foam of the sea.
“Stag was utterly helpless as the Great Serpent opened its gaping jaws, barbed with white serrated teeth.” Clyde stretched his mouth open wide. “He spotted Autumn lying feebly on the tongue of the enormous beast that lunged at him.
“Snap!” Clyde’s teeth clacked as he clamped them together, causing the girls to flinch. “Stag and Autumn saw what was sure to be their last glimpse of light as the beast trapped them inside its immense cavern of a mouth.”
Clyde settled back down to the ground, moaning, “Stag and his mate lay defeated on the Great Serpent’s warm wet tongue, too weary to fight, pitch darkness pressing in on the lovers as they silently waited to die.
“But then,” Clyde sung heavenly, lifting up his head, “Stag and Autumn gazed out in amazement as the mighty creature’s teeth parted and light flooded into its yawning maw. There before them, a vast stretch of magnificent coast was revealed.
“Like a tendril unfurling from its vine, the Great Serpent’s tongue lifted up beneath the two lovers. Gently, they were brought out into the world, sliding down the slippery tongue until they touched true, solid ground.
Clyde spread his wings as far as he could, nearly knocking a chair over as they brushed over it. “The two dragons stared up at their mysterious savior, in awestruck reverence. The Great Sea Serpent poised peacefully in the infinite ocean…then arched and dipped its snout in the water, disappearing into the depths once more.”
The gleaming dragon paused for a moment, studying his small audience with keen eyes. Faren kept unusually still, clearly waiting for the story to continue.
“Stag and his mate recovered from their travels in the unknown land. But they soon found that they could not stay there and they wandered by foot, looking for a place to settle. Yet, they found that no matter where they went, man was there, hunting all the big game, farming all the fields, leaving no room for the two foreign dragons.
“Stag and Autumn traveled on,” Clyde told them, “never straying from the coast until they found the place where the Colony had left long ago- the dragon territory.”
Clyde hung his head. “The lovers were glad to have found this place again,” he expressed. “Despite the land’s lack of water and prey, they wished they never had left, for it still belonged to the dragons. The Wizard was the only human who lived there, and he was at peace with dragonkind, unlike the entire kingdom that stood on the other side of the mountain range.
“Yes, indeed. Stag and Autumn thought they’d rediscovered the place of their blessed destiny, but in truth…it was the place of their accursed fate.
“Heartless rogues still roamed the land, living by struggle and strife,” Clyde explained sullenly. “And when one pack found that a couple of Colonists had returned, they attacked. One dragon clamped his mighty jaws across Stag’s head, splintering the foreparts of his skull, blinding him.”
Fire light glimmered down Clyde’s face. “Stag was forced to listen, blind and powerless as the rogues went on to murder Autumn. Her screams of anguish rung out, piercing through Stag’s ears.
“And then they stopped.
“The rogues were gone.
“Stag’s love was dead.”
Clyde threw back his head and cried aloud, “How terrible to live on! It was a miracle Stag had survived, but he, heartbroken, regarded it as a burden. Sightlessly, he dragged himself forward till he lay beside Autumn’s mutilated corpse. Blood streamed from his ruined eyes like tears, mixing with that of his lover’s.
“Days passed as Stag wandered, bereft and directionless, with the hope to die. But destiny had other plans. Soon, he found himself here, not just in the hands of new friends, but the hearts of new family as well. Slowly, he regained the will to live, recognizing love’s remarkable ability to be reborn in the form of many.
“Stag fought to save the lives of others. He did this to honor his mate.
“And when death came to claim him at last, he died a magnificently selfless, worthy individual.
“May he rest in peace.”
Tears threatened Damara’s eyes at the very end of Clyde’s tale, for it was the one thing she knew to be true.
Sea serpents and accursed lands I cannot believe, she told herself, staring into the flames in hopes that they would dry her watery eyes. But it’s no lie to say that Stag died a magnificently selfless, worthy individual.
Damara was too trapped in thought to hear Kara thank Clyde for the story. She didn’t even look up as the dragon managed to push out through the doorway and disappear, his strange songs rising up again from the darkened forest.
Stag saved my life and countless others…
There couldn’t have been a better way to honor his mate than that.
Chapter 22