by Simon Archer
“Probably back at the house,” I commented gently.
“Yes, I am afraid much of my thoughts are with them today,” Styu said, his face growing grim.
“How is he?” I asked.
Styu stopped in the center of the shop and stood across from me. Worry lined his plump face and seemed to make his red locks droop. His eyes were coated in concern and fear, rather than their typical jovial nature. A pang of sadness smacked against my chest and bruised my heart at the sight of my friend so hurt.
“He is up and walking, which is good,” Styu started. “But he is weak. He sleeps a lot and talks little. His Merkin is with him every second, curled in his hand, or by his neck. Miji is a rambunctious, curious boy, and it is sad to see…”
Styu trailed off and put a fist to his mouth. He quickly turned away from me, so I wouldn’t have to see his raw emotion. I put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back in what I hope was a comforting gesture.
“He just is not himself.” Styu’s voice broke. “And he looks sickly, you know? He does not want to eat and looks as though he is going to blow away.”
“His gift is gone too,” Maji piped up from the corner.
I spun around to face her. “What do you mean by that?”
“Miji always was able to pop from one place to the next,” Maji explained. I knew this as I had seen it when I first met the Dyers family. “But he has not been able to. Not since my birthday.”
Maji said these last words with such guilt that I wanted to wrap her in my arms and remind her that none of this was her fault. I knew Maji felt tremendous guilt when it came to her gift. She thought that if she saw what was going to happen ahead of time, she should be able to stop it. But that was almost always not the case. There just wasn’t enough time between her visions and the event itself.
“That’s news to me,” I told both Maji and Styu. “Is it true? He can’t teleport like he used to.”
“Miji has tried,” Styu said, his throat still dry from the difficult subject matter. “But when he does, he cries out in pain. We have advised him to stop trying for now. You know Miji, though, he hardly ever slows down, so seeing him like this… it is heartbreaking.”
A surge of anger and sadness battled in my stomach. They battled it out, making my gut churn uncomfortably. I wanted to race back there, into the Dyers’ house, and have it out with Hennar right then and there. I mourned the loss of such a vibrant boy. Instead, he had to fight for the simple right to breathe.
“Is there anything else I can do?” I offered. I knew what they really wanted was the complete eradication of this disease. Styu and Vanna only wanted their son back.
“No, Martin,” Styu said kindly. “You do so much already. Vanna and I know you are working on finding a cure, one that does not tax you so badly. We believe in you, so keep doing what you are doing, yes?”
Styu spoke to me like a father. He put his own feelings on hold for that moment and reached out to me, making sure I was good and encouraged. It amazed me.
I fought back my own tears and could only nod.
“Good,” Styu said, looking me directly in the eye. He gave my shoulder a pat before adding, “Did you need any additional colors, or are you set?”
“I’m set,” I replied. “I just came in to check on things.”
“We are as good as we can be here,” Styu assured me. “You go off and continue to save the world, you hear?”
I chuckled a bit. “Yes, sir. Will do.”
Picking up my cue to leave, I made for the door. I offered Maji a shortwave, and she returned it. Once I ventured back out onto the city streets, however, there was a soft tap on my arm. I turned around to face it, seeing Maji out on the street with me, cat at her heels.
“What is it, Maji?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I think,” Maji responded. Her eyes darted down at her shoes for a moment and then bounced back up at me. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“You know you can always tell me anything,” I answered, the response coming naturally to me.
“I had a vision,” Maji said. “About you.”
“Me?” My head snapped back a bit, surprised. “What about me?”
“I do not know exactly,” Maji said, her eyebrows furrowed like she was trying to remember. “It was weird because the whole vision was in black and white, no colors whatsoever. I saw you holding something clenched in your fist. Then you opened your hand, and everything flashed purple with red at the center.”
“Purple?” I asked. “Like a light purple? Like a lavender?”
“Yes,” Maji said excitedly. I, unfortunately, did not share her enthusiasm. “All I know is that you should not open your hand. Do not release whatever you are holding. For when you do, there is no turning back.”
“Turning back from what?” I prodded.
Maji’s gaze returned to her shoes and the dirt ground. The cat wove anxiously between her legs. “I do not know.”
“It’s okay, Maji,” I said. I tried to remind myself that Maji only knew so much, and asking her for more information was like asking a fish to climb a tree. Useless and utterly impossible. “Thank you for telling me. I promise to keep it in mind.”
“Okay,” Maji said softly, still to the ground.
“Hey, look at me,” I asked gently.
Maji complied.
“You know that what happened to your brother wasn’t your fault, right?” I reminded her. “And that this gift you have is a gift, not a curse. It’s meant to help people, even though I might not feel that way sometimes. Promise me you will remember that.”
Maji’s head snapped up and caught my eyes by surprise. Her gaze pierced through me, too stoic and too strong for a young girl of only twelve. At that moment, I realized that Maji had seen a lot of things for a long time and probably knew way more than she ever let on. Still, while I feel like she could have schooled me in the ways of the word sometimes, I had to hear it from her lips, that she wouldn’t blame herself or her gift for something an evil man had chosen to do.
“I will not,” Maji said, “as long as you promise to do the same.”
“Okay,” I said, drawing the word out. “I won’t if you won’t.”
“I promise.” Maji nodded with a single head bob.
“You better get going before your dad wonders where you are,” I suggested.
She didn’t need to be told twice. With another short wave, Maji walked back to her father’s shop. I watched her go, unease stirring beneath my skin. It wasn’t Maji’s warning about the lavender light that disturbed me so. It was the notion that she thought I believed my light to be a curse and that I blamed myself for the goings-on in Insomier.
That was absurd, wasn’t it? I knew that none of this was my fault. I hadn’t even been here a year yet, and Hennar was infecting the kingdom way before then. As for my gift, I knew that it was meant to heal others. That was honestly the best part of it.
But it wasn’t able to heal anyone now. Not while we were locked in this stalemate with Hennar. Meanwhile, Miji deteriorated, along with the other contaminated parts of the kingdom I hadn’t gotten to yet.
An overwhelming sense of duty and obligation crashed over me like a violent wave. I put a hand to my forehead and held it there for a moment, counting my breaths as I did so. Right now, I couldn’t concern myself with Maji’s muddled predictions. I needed to clear my head from this crazy day. I needed peace, quiet, and paint splatters on my fingers.
With a final measured exhale, I wove my way out of the city and into the Marked Woods.
13
I had paint beneath my fingernails, sweat on my brow, and an idea in my head. I couldn’t have been happier.
The stress of the day melted off me. I dove into the work and let it swallow me whole, relishing in the ease of the motions. Each stroke soothed me. The paintbrush vibrated in my hand as it ran across the rock.
A nearby creek acted as my wash bin. It cleared the mixed colors from my brushes
so I could keep the colors stark and bright. I kept my paint cans separate so that the colors wouldn’t touch each other and ruin them before I could get the color onto the rock.
I stepped back and admired the painting. It was an abstract piece with fall coloring and long sweeping shapes. At the center of the swirling mass of yellows, oranges, and reds, there was a single circle of purple. It acted as the epicenter for the rest of the piece, the other colors and figures swirling out from there.
Upon sight of the purple dot that was so light that it might as well be lavender, the bliss faded. Immediately I thought back to Maji’s mention of the lavender light and how it meant no turning back. No, opening my hand meant no turning back. I would have to ask the young girl again about the specifics of the vision.
Right now, I just wanted to keep painting, but the sun was fading, and I was running low on certain colors, particularly yellow and orange, since I’d used so much of them in this piece. It was unrealistic to think that I would get to paint anymore today.
Ffamran, who had been observing me since I arrived in the Marked Woods that afternoon, lifted his head. He cocked it to the right and then again to the left. He looked like a metronome when he ticked it back to the other side.
“What is it?” I asked, waiting for his critique.
“I do not know,” Ffamran said. “That is what I am trying to figure out. It seems like a tornado on fire, with a purple egg in the center. Is there some hidden symbolism that I am missing?”
I glanced over at the dragon with an annoyed stare. He stretched out on the forest floor, his hind legs tucked neatly beneath him. His white hair flopped into his eyes, and he shook it out of his line of sight, supposedly to get a better view of the drawing. Ffamran puffed up a bit of air in an effort to brush the hair out of his face, but it defied his wishes and plopped back in the same position.
I dusted off my hands and approached Ffamran. With a gentle touch, I reached up and tucked the strand behind his ear and out of his eye.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I responded. “And no, there isn’t any hidden symbolism. Or if there is, it was subconscious. I just draw what I feel.”
“And you feel like a whirlpool of fall leaves culminating at the earth’s purple core?” Ffamran tried again.
“I don’t know how to feel.” I sat next to the dragon and leaned my back against his belly. He was surprisingly comfortable, considering the hardness of his scales. I like the consistent movement of his breath, the underlying beat of his heart, and the subtle warmth of his skin.
Ffamran knew the events of the day, as I relayed them to him right before beginning this latest piece. He didn’t have anything to comment on, really. He merely listened to my report and then encouraged me to “paint it out.” Apparently, this is not exactly what he meant by that.
“I know you were expecting something more realistic, but I don’t feel like dealing with the real world right now,” I lamented as I laid my head back. Ffarmran held me up and didn’t respond right away.
The woods chittered with its natural noises. Birds chirps, leaves rustled, and smaller creatures scurried. The wind, ever chillier as the last of summer faded away, blew gently, like a reminder that colder times were on the horizon.
Together, Ffamran and I lay there, enjoying the isolation of the forest. We didn’t need to speak or communicate via our mental connection. We simply sat and breathed as one. At that moment, I closed my eyes. I listened to Ffamran’s heartbeat, tapping in time to my own. It was a consequence of our bond. While I knew that each of us could live without the other, it would be like losing a piece of myself.
I found that, nowadays, I only really felt whole when I was near Ffamran. That was why when he got infected with the corruption, I couldn’t bear to let him die. It took everything I had and forced me into bonding with six other creatures to do it, but I did. I never regretted that decision. Especially in moments like now.
More than anyone else in Insomier, Ffamran was the one I trusted the most. He was the most loyal and always stuck by me. He was the ultimate reason I chose to stay and not return to Earth when given the chance.
The dragon felt the same way. He always asked when we would see one another next. I wished we could spend more moments together like other merkins did, but because of his sheer size, it was impossible to bring him everywhere. Unfortunately, he wasn’t like Miji’s garter snake or Alona’s flutterbird that could travel with their humans wherever.
Nevertheless, both of us cherished the moments we got to spend together. Mostly it was training with Rebekah and the rest of the clan, or the really special moments when he accompanied me out into the forest to paint. I had grown used to having Ffamran watch me work, and he seemed to enjoy it too.
“It relaxes me,” he once told me. “Seeing you so serene calms me. It is when I know you are safest and happiest.”
Now we sat together, serene, safe, and happy.
That was until the rest of the clan showed up.
I sensed them before I could see them. This was happening more and more often, as my bond with the six other dragons slowly strengthened. I could feel all six heartbeats as they flew in formation towards us. Ffamran seemed to recognize the feeling, too, because he lifted his head and shifted. His movement caused me to stand up and stretch out.
“No rest for the wicked, I suppose,” I said through a contented yawn.
“Who said anything about being wicked?” Ffamran asked contemptuously. “I do not know about you, but I am nothing of the sort.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing he was kidding, and that there was no arguing with him. “I guess I have to relay the events once more.”
“No need,” Ffamran informed me. “I already told them.”
“Traitor,” I joked.
“You did not tell me it was a secret,” Ffamran objected. “Plus, I knew they would need to know at some point. There will be a concern that you will spend too much time at court and not enough time training with them.”
“How can I possibly train with them if there is nothing to work on?” I said with a groan. “Until they hand over their gifts, I have no reason to train with them.”
“You cannot be so one-sided about the whole thing, Martin,” Ffamran warned. He nudged me in the back with his snout, and I jumped a little. “You accepted the role as King of the Dragons. There is more to that title than having a smorgasbord of gifts.”
“I only accepted the title to help you,” I argued.
“It does not matter why you did it,” Ffamran reminded me, “You took it and have it now. You must act like a leader and lead this clan. As much as I hate it, that means spending as much time with each of them as you do me.”
I spun around to look Ffamran directly in the face. I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow. “Why does this sound like you planned this?”
“I did no such thing,” Ffamran said, slightly insulted. “Though I have been thinking about it for a while now. I do believe it would raise morale, so to speak, if you invited one of the other dragons to accompany you instead of me.”
I didn’t have time to argue because a strong gust of wind picked up around the area. It sent the weak leaves scattering across the ground. Branches whipped about, yanked against their will. The remnants of the sun’s light were quickly shadowed by six giant figures as they descended from the sky.
One after the other, the dragons landed, poised like a planned portrait. The minute they stopped flying, the wind ceased, and everything settled.
They were an intimidating bunch. It still struck me how massive they were. Even Kolo, the smallest with her black and orange coloring, still stood at least ten feet tall, twelve if you counted her horns. Each was so unique and beautiful and deadly. I was grateful that they were on my side because having them as a foe would scare any sane person.
The red dragon and former leader of the clan, Maximus, stepped forward. He bowed his head slightly at me and then at Ffamran.<
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“Good evening, my lord. Ffamran fon Desca. How are you this evening?”
“Fine,” I said with a shrug. Ffamran’s tail tapped the back of my legs. I corrected myself and elaborated. “I’m okay. It’s been a stressful day.”
“It seems that way,” Ninji commented as her pink coat shimmered in the twilight hours. “Ffamran kindly told us all about it. Is there anything we can do for you, my lord?”
“I don’t know yet,” I replied honestly. Surprised by Ninji’s sincere question, I felt obligated to give her a sincere answer. “Do any of you know the rules of court? Or how the introduction process works?”
The dragons looked at one another, consulting. Jin shifted languidly and rolled her bright eyes. “Those are mainly human traditions.”
“I recognize that, but given that some of you have been around a while,” I said as I gestured to Maximus, the oldest among them, “I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Well,” Ninji said with a sly smile, “since you mention it, I do have something that might be able to help.”
“Do you know how to waltz?” I asked, only half-joking since that was the only thing I knew about the introduction process so far.
Ninji laughed. It sounded like confetti falling in the air, a burst and then little twinkles, and Johan laughed in harmony with her.
“Dragons have different mating rituals than dancing,” Johan answered while Ninji still chuckled.
“Dancing isn’t a mating ritual,” I said, a little unnerved.
“You do not believe so?” Johan asked, still smiling like I was missing out on the joke. “I have known many a human that fell in love after a dance.”
“I’m not planning on falling in love,” I protested. “I only want to pass whatever tests the court has planned for me. To earn their trust, you know.”
“Earning trust,” Jin mused under her breath. “What a concept.”
I wanted to respond and opened my mouth to do so when another warning tail tap came at my leg from Ffamran. Again, I closed my mouth and chose not to dignify Jin with a response. At least not right now.