"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 meant 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 woodsman 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 handkerchi
ef 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