“What?
“Are we going to find my dad?”
Silence.
“Deacon?”
“I don’t know?”
Thomas sat up. “Seriously, you don’t know?” He said to Deacon’s back.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up. Now, go to sleep,” responded the rider without budging.
Thomas stared at the back of the rider then finally laid back down.
Deacon, wrapped in his blanket, could hear Thomas muttering to himself. Hearing the boy asking for his father, the dragon rider couldn’t help but relive the past. All the fighting, all the pain, the loss. He willed the memories away, pushing them deep down and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Thomas gritted his teeth in anger, laying under his rough blanket. What a jerk, he thought. I have to find my dad. Until I find him, I can’t go home. He wondered what his mom was doing right now. I’ll find him. No matter what. His eyes were heavy, and exhaustion soon won, and Thomas slipped off into a dream. He was being chased by a dark shadow through a strange land, and he was all alone.
Chapter 28
Thomas’s eyes popped open. Had he heard something? He was cold. The fire now was only a smolder. He sat up quietly and looked over at Deacon who hadn’t moved. The dragon, Thorn was also sleeping. Thomas could see the rhythmic pumping of his sides as he breathed deeply. Thomas fumed about Deacon’s treatment of him before they went to sleep. As he sat up quietly and wrapped his blanket about himself he hatched a plan. Thomas would go after his dad himself. If he had really stopped to think about it, he would have known he was lying to himself. He was self-deceived but that is the way of anger. He was blinded to the reality around him. I’ll show him, Thomas thought as he quickly grabbed a canteen of water and fastening his jacket, slipped out of the cave, and into the darkness.
Chapter 29
It took Thomas quite a while to make it down the side of the cliff. A couple of times, he found himself in a precarious position and considered climbing back up, but he continued on fueled by his anger at Deacon and his desire to find his father.
Now he found himself at the foot of the cliff considering the dense forest that lay before him. He peered back over his shoulder, where he could see the dark hole of the cave halfway up the cliff. Deacon and Thorn were probably still sleeping. He turned back to the forest and stepped in among the giant trees.
He quickly found a trail and begin following it. This wasn’t so bad after all. No sooner had he felt his confidence rising when somewhere in the distance an animal howled. A wolf? Do they have wolves in this world? He stopped, frozen in his tracks. Maybe he was hearing things. Then, another howl answered the first, and then a third. They were getting closer. Thomas turned, cursing his stupidity, and begin making his way back toward the base of the cliff.
The break in the forest was just ahead. A low growl rumbled somewhere close behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the glint of red eyes through the brush then took off in a full sprint. He pumped his legs as fast as they would go. The yapping, snapping, and growling were getting closer. They seemed to be right on his heels. He broke out of the forest and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a massive wolf bearing down on him. Thomas tripped and sprawled on the rough ground. He glanced again as the wolf leaped. Its fanged jaws opened, and red tongue lolled. Thomas braced and then heard a twang and a whoosh! The wolf crashed on him and lay still. Another twang and bark and whine, and it was silent.
The weight and smell of the massive wolf were overwhelming, but Thomas was powerless to move it. He looked to the side and spied leather boots. Deacon placed his boot on the body of the dead wolf and heaved, and it rolled off Thomas. An arrow pierced what Thomas assumed would be its heart. Thomas gazed up at Deacon, who stood like a statue holding a yew bow. Grateful to be alive, Thomas sputtered, “Deacon, thank you… I’m so sorry!”
Deacon considered the boy for a moment and then turned and walked away.
The climb back up the cliff was miserable in the cold darkness. Thorn was waiting at the base of the cliff, and Deacon mounted the dragon, and they winged their way back to their campsite, leaving Thomas behind to consider the results of his rash decision as he struggled back up the rock face. His mother had often discussed his anger with him, and he resolved once again to grow up.
Thomas finally crested the cliff and trudged slowly to the glowing mouth of the cave. The campfire had been stoked and burned cheerily. He looked toward Deacon and saw only his back toward the fire again. Thomas opened his mouth to say something and then heard a snore come from the rider.
Thomas laid down and pulled up his blanket. He shivered once and then felt the great dragon’s wing stretched over him, protectively providing warmth. And he slept.
Chapter 30
Deacon was busy loading Thorn’s saddlebags.
Thomas shivered and jumped to his feet. He slapped at his body, trying to warm up.
“It’s freezing!”
Deacon continued loading the saddlebag. His back was stiff and as straight as a ramrod. I guess he’s still mad about last night, thought Thomas.
Thorn swung his head from Thomas to Deacon and rumbled at his rider.
Deacon’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and he said, “There’s still a big mug of hot kava in the embers… and this might help.”
Deacon pulled something from the saddlebag. As he turned, Thomas saw that it was a leather riding jacket. Deacon stopped and did something Thomas thought was quite odd.
The rider brought the jacket up to his nose, then inhaled deeply—especially across the fur-lined collar. Thomas stood quietly, mystified at this ritual. Then Deacon walked the coat over to the boy and placed it on his shoulders.
Thomas quickly slipped it on, snuggling into its fur lining. “Wow, this fits perfectly!” he said, as he rubbed its smooth, well-oiled leather.
“I thought it would,” said Deacon as he stepped back to Thorn. He swung his leg over the beast, settled into the saddle, then offered his hand to help Thomas up.
Realizing, Thomas used what was left of the kava to douse the fire’s embers, dropped the mug into the open bag, pulled it closed, tied the lash tight, then accepted Deacon’s outstretched hand and was quickly in his place behind him.
“Where did you get this?” he queried, still admiring the leather riding jacket.
“It belonged to someone,” Deacon responded
“Who?”
“Someone.”
Thomas decided to drop it. “Thanks.” Thomas admired the leather gloves Deacon was wearing as he rubbed his own hands to warm them. “You think I could get some of those?”
Deacon looked down at his well-worn gloves. “These? You have to earn these.”
Deacon nudged the big dragon’s flanks. “Up, Thorn.”
Thorn sprung off the cliff ledge, extended his wings and glided off.
Chapter 31
Deacon expertly pulled the reins of his reptilian steed with his leather gloved hands, steering their glide through the clouds. Thomas now sat in front of Deacon, all his fear of flying gone.
Thomas looked out through the early morning mist; the dragon’s speed made the drops sting Thomas’s face. He didn’t care, though, because he was taking in a majestic vista that stretched out under him as far as his eyes could see.
What was the line from that song he loved to sing back in his American school? Oh yes!
“O beautiful for spacious skies,
for amber waves of grain;
for purple mountains’ majesties,
Above the fruited plain...”
That was precisely what he was experiencing now.
As Thomas thought of his old school in America, his mind naturally went from there to his American school bus to—a sudden memory of him walking home up the old road after getting off the bus.
There was the old wooden house with the big tree in the front yard, and the wide porch, then the screen door opened and out walked his mother… and t
hen his father. They embraced each other, then both smiled at him and waved welcoming him home.
And at that moment, Thomas felt his heart might break. How can you go, in such a quick second, from such joy to such pain? He longed to be home. He wanted to find his father. But he was a long, long way from home.
Snap out of it, he told himself. And he unconsciously shook his head, willing the memories away. He turned his thoughts to Deacon instead and chose to think of the fun they had had last night around the fire. And then he remembered his foolhardy attempt to run away.
Thomas cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Huh?” Deacon responded.
“I was stupid.”
“Yes, you were,” Deacon shifted in the saddle. “You could have been killed.”
Thomas remembered all the fatherly talks he had received from his Dad then looked over his shoulder at Deacon.
“You remind me of my dad, sometimes.”
Deacon was taken aback by this sudden show of intimacy.
He peered off into the distance. “You remind me of...” Deacon’s voice trailed off. At this moment, Thomas thought, He looks like I must have looked just moments ago when memories flooded in, and I had to chase them away or cry.
Banishing those thoughts, Thomas followed up his statement about his father: “I mean, I’ve never seen my dad fight like you. In fact, I’ve never seen him fight at all. I don’t know if he can even hold a sword. Well, we do have a sword. But it’s an antique, and it hangs in his office. I mean, we have a lot of fun together. You’ll like him.”
Deacon responded by offering the dragon’s reins to Thomas.
“Here, give it a try.”
Thomas stared at the reins like they were hot.
“I... better not.”
Deacon pushed them into Thomas’s hands.
“Come on.”
Thomas hesitated one more moment, then gave in. He gingerly took the reins from Deacon’s leather-gloved hands.
Thomas held the reins limply and asked: “How am I doing?”
Thorn moaned.
“Very daring. Give him a little encouragement.”
Thomas looked at Deacon quizzically.
“Give him a little kick.” Deacon explained.
Thomas’s heels barely nudged the dragon’s flanks.
Thorn groaned.
“Come on, boy—this is your chance to fly a dragon!”
A fire kindled in Thomas’s eyes, and a crazy grin spread across his face. He let out a “Whoop!” and kicked the dragon with all his might.
Thorn took off.
Thomas tilted backward from the dragon’s sudden surge of power, which caused Thomas to pull up on the reins, which caused the direction-following Thorn to angle almost vertically into the sky.
“Wow!” Thomas exclaimed as he fell against Deacon’s chest.
“Take it easy,” laughed the man “and pull him down a bit!”
“Huh?”
The dragon continued to soar straight up.
“Down! Pull the reins down, Thomas!”
“Ah!” Thomas complied, excited at his power to direct Thorn. But in his excitement, he overcompensated at pulling the reins down. Ever obedient to his rider’s guidance, the great dragon stalled in mid-air, then folded his wings back and dove.
“AayeeEEE!” Thomas screamed as the ground rushed to meet them.
“Give me the reins!” demanded Deacon.
Expertly, Deacon pulled up on the reins just enough that Thorn quickly leveled off, and he trumpeted, sensing the renewed touch of his master’s hand. The great dragon glided smoothly over the beautiful grassy plains.
Eyes wide with excitement, Thomas looked up at his friend and exclaimed: “Let’s do it again!”
“No,” said Deacon, who looked a little pale, “I think that’s enough flying lessons for today.”
“Aww, come on!” Thomas said sullenly.
But Deacon firmly said: “We really need to move on.”
Thorn snorted. It sounded a bit like a smirking chortle.
“Yes, I feel fine,” Deacon shot back. “And mind your own business.”
But Thomas was now oblivious because his eyes had become captivated at the beautiful valley that stretched below. So vibrant. So breathtaking. Thomas looked to the east, and there in the distance stood massive gray mountains reaching to the sky like sharp fangs. Here and there, snow glinted reflecting the sun. The summit was covered in a swirling dark cloud.
Thomas pointed. “What are those mountains?”
Deacon squinted, “Those are the Forbidden Range. Strange people live there, and our kind is not welcome.” Deacon indicated the cloud covering the summit. “The upper peaks are covered in a perpetual storm.”
How cold that place must be, Thomas thought. What kind of people could possibly live in that frostbitten land? Thomas shivered.
He tore his gaze away from the Forbidden Lands and looked at a more pleasant scene before them. Another range but more inviting.
“Are we almost there?” Thomas asked
“Just over the next mountain range,” Deacon said with a sigh.
Chapter 32
As those snow-capped peaks loomed nearer, Thomas scanned them for signs of Deacon’s settlement. He also hoped they gained altitude because they seemed on a collision course with a large and high exposed-rock cliff.
Then Thomas realized they were climbing, and that the thinner air was making Thorn’s heart, lungs, and wings work much harder to gain the needed elevation.
Thomas hoped against hope as he wondered: Could we be aiming even higher than this mighty beast can handle?
The giant dragon’s breath matched the faster beating of his wings; each hot exhale created a puff of cloud in the frigid air.
Thomas shivered and pulled the fur collar of his leather jacket closer around his neck. Down near the plains, he thought it was overkill to have such a coat. But now, he was thankful for its warmth.
Looking forward again, Thomas felt like the approaching, sheer cliff face went up forever. For a moment, Thomas feared that Thorn was going to fly them straight into the granite.
Then Thomas’s eyes adjusted, to the whites and grays and blues of the snow and rock and sun and shadow, and he saw that to the left side of the nearest cliff-face, there was a slight backward jog in the mountain behind that cliff face before a further-back granite wall resumed.
And as Thorn flew very close to that backward jog, then took a sharp right, Thomas saw they were facing the opening to a deep, narrow, U-shaped canyon that angled in behind the foreboding cliff. A hidden slot, if you like, behind what seemed to be an impenetrable wall until you got directly up to it.
Thorn angled for the bottom of the narrow U—so tight that as they flew in, Thomas noticed that Thorn’s wingtips were brushing snow off the canyon’s walls.
But then the thin passage opened up, and they emerged into a beautiful full canyon with a vast green valley on its floor. Thomas now noticed that there were hewn out dwellings up in the canyon walls. Déjà vu. He felt he had seen this before.
Then he remembered: It reminded him of a book he read in school about the Anasazi Indians of Arizona!
As they neared that populated canyon wall, Thomas could make out dragons perched along an outcropping. Now he could see people busily going about their day. This was a bustling village, built into the cliffs.
Thorn glided over the valley floor, and Thomas spotted a river of dark blue running right down its center. And now he also saw distinct patches of different greens arranged in rectangles and squares. Thomas realized they were crops. Wow! Cliff dwellers, dragon-riders, farmers…
Thomas turned in amazement and said to Deacon over his shoulder: “What do you call this place?”
Deacon didn’t answer for a moment; he was surveying the beautiful landscape below them. “Home. We just call it Home.”
Chapter 33
Ellie stopped work for a moment. She leaned on her ho
e, pushed her riotous red curls back from her face, and brushed some dust off her calf-length wool tunic. She took a deep breath: new grass, freshly tilled earth. These were the smells of their hidden stronghold.
She had passed twenty-two harvests just last month, and her attractive features gave plenty of young men in the Home good reason to try their hand at courting her.
But she was determined not to court any man she could best in farming, swordplay, or dragon-riding. So there were few courters. In fact, only one man stood a chance.
A shadow passed over her. The bugle-call of a dragon echoed off the canyon walls.
Ellie shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun, peered up at the dragon and his riders.
“Deacon,” she whispered to herself. Dropping her hoe, she sprinted across the furrowed rows to intersect with the landing.
Loren smiled to see his daughter run to meet Deacon; this smile only deepened the fissures in his sun-browned face. The youngest of Loren’s many children, Ellie, was the gift given him late in life. But it was a bittersweet, for Ellie’s hard birth had cost the life of Fee, his dear wife.
On a full shelf along the canyon wall, a big rider named John tended a huge brown dragon. He was the oldest son of Loren. Dressed in more extended versions of the same leather jacket and britches that Deacon typically wore, John was an imposing sight to any enemy, but a welcome sight to any friend.
Hearing Thorn’s bugle, John turned, smiling, from rubbing down his own giant beast. John then turned back, gave his dragon two more strokes, and a grateful pat, then descended the stone stairs that were carved into the canyon walls.
Chapter 34
Thorn glided in broad spirals, slowly descending until he landed gently in a meadow on the valley’s floor.
Deacon helped Thomas slide down off Thorn’s back, then turned to retrieve something from his saddlebags. But feeling Thomas’s tugging at his trouser leg, Deacon turned around… just as Ellie came fully into view.
OTHERLANDER: A Long Way From Home Page 6