by D. E. Morris
His eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Come. There is much to see.”
Connor bounced on his feet and he turned to Misuzu with glee. “I'll be back later.” She had no opportunity to warn him about going off with Gianara or beg him to use common sense and not be carried away by his enthusiasm. The two of them were already heading toward the exit with Connor asking question after question about the mountains, the dragons, the island itself. All Misuzu could do was give a quiet whimper and tuck her head under her tail and pray for sleep to come to help her pass the time.
“How many dragons do you have here? Are they full dragons, or Gaels, or feral Gaels? Do you have all of the elements or just the basic four? I know dark and light are really hard to find in the wild. What about the riders? Are all dragons trained to have riders? How do they know what they're supposed to do? Are they friendly? Can I ride one? Jaryn said you made these caves and that they aren't natural caves; is that true? How long did it take?”
“Slow down, young one,” Gianara laughed. “You have many questions and I have answers, though much of it you will learn on your own over time.” She led Connor out onto a ledge and he was surprised to see they were already quite far off the ground. From their vantage point, the mountains behind them still towered over them but they had a sweeping view of the valley below. “Ironedge is home to all kinds of dragons, and yes, our people created these caves with magic and our own two hands. Most of the dragons are natural born like yours, some are feral Gaels, and only a few are Gaels who still have control over both their human and draconic forms.”
“Is that what this island is called?” Connor asked, looking up at her. “Ironedge?”
“It is what we have named it, yes. Our sheer cliff drop offs make it dangerous and impenetrable from the sea, and the reef around the island is sharp as a blade and impossible to navigate for any but our water dragons.”
“So you do have water dragons!”
“Of course.”
She led him back inside and up again, pointing out different caves where certain supplies were kept and where sick or injured dragons were taken care of. A small water dragon was being treated for injuries and was swimming around the inside of a water tub in irritation. Connor was allowed to peer over the edge and he watched the blue creature slither around the way Misuzu flew through the air. A bright pink gash in its side made Connor look to the man on the other side of the room, working on some sort of concoction at a table. “What happened to him?”
“She,” he corrected, “got in a fight with a small school of barracuda, by the look of her injuries. It's nothing we haven't seen before.” He peered over the glasses balancing on the tip of his nose, giving Connor a kind smile. “She'll be back out in the ocean in no time.”
“What are you making?” His attention diverted, Connor moved to the table to examine the poultice that was being mashed together with a mortar and pestle. He stuck his face over the bowl and inhaled deeply. “Smells like clay and...something else. What is it?”
“It's a blend of rosemary, lavender and myrrh.” The man held up a cloth, then brought it closer to Connor for his inspection. “This has been soaked in a special oil so that it can be wrapped around the wound after the poultice is applied.Water won't get into it for about three days, plenty of time for our friend to get the help she needs and start healing on her own.”
“Then do you have to find her again to take it off?”
The man shook his head. “It will fall off naturally after awhile, or she'll get impatient and chew it off.”
“Come, Connor.” Gianara started for the exit to the large room. “There is still much to see.” He looked into the tub once more to watch the dragon swim for just a second longer, then turned to give the man a wave before leaving. “We have different spaces for different breeds and sizes of dragons,” Gianara told the boy as they pressed on, anticipating his questions. “Just like in the barracks below, we have to be mindful of the dragons' accommodations at all times. What is comfortable for one breed will not be comfortable for all. Most who work in the caves are knowledgeable about each breed we have, but often have a specific one they favor working with.”
“So not everyone who lives here works with the dragons?”
“No. Some are riders and soldiers only, others take care of the animals we raise to keep ourselves and our dragons fed, which means going out to the small islands farther out to sea where they are kept.” Gianara frowned. “It is important that the dragons are allowed to hunt as the natural predators they are, but it must also be controlled if we are to keep them safe.”
“So you have islands specifically for that?” Connor was enraptured. This was a lifestyle he had only imagined existed when he sat on his cold, hard throne and listened to the older men of his court drone on about the necessities of running a kingdom day in and day out. This kind of life was exactly what he wanted. It was freedom and fun, not rules and regulations. “How did you come to be here, Gia? You speak like a noble and I noticed not everyone else does.”
She nodded, pausing outside the entrance to another large cave, this one lit from within by a fire. Inside, a large red dragon with orange and amber speckles was curled up, asleep. Connor started in, but Gia stopped him with a hand to his chest. “I was brought here as a child by my father, not much younger than you, I should think.” She glanced down at him. “Never walk into the cave of a sleeping dragon and never wake them with a surprise. If they do not rise of their own accord, anyone close to them will either be burnt to ashes or be the dragon's first meal of the day.” Connor swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on the dragon even as Gianara turned him to continue on. “My mother was an elf and taught me the proper ways to speak. I suppose it has never left.”
There were so many nooks and crannies to the mountain habitat that it seemed everywhere Connor looked, there were more dragons than he thought possible. Most of them were earth and fire dragons, even a few dark and light. There was an opening he was led to where a scope was mounted and pointed directly into the ocean crashing against the rocks below. When he looked into it, he could see a couple of water dragons just below the surface, like fish in a pond, swimming back and forth, and all around.
“How is it no one knows about this place?” he asked several minutes later as they watched an air dragon no bigger than a pony be washed down. “I know that there are stories about this place being haunted, but I would think some brave sailors would try to see what this was all about just the same.”
Gianara shrugged. “Many have tried and all have failed. Men in boats rarely get past our water dragons and when they do, the reef shreds their boats and the dragons finish the job. Those that would fly to the island would never make it through the mist that surrounds us. It is a simple elvish spell, one taught to me years ago, but it is coupled with a disorientation spell that would confuse any man or beast that would fly through it. I do not know how it is all of you made it through, but that is something I will have to investigate soon. I do not want anyone else knowing that we are here. We exist to protect that which the rest of the world no longer holds sacred, and we must be protected ourselves to achieve that. To many, dragons are nuisances, whether they are Gaelic or not.” She sneered. “The last time Tadhg ordered a hunting party into Dragonspire Mountains and led the slaughter of all of those innocent creatures, I knew my purpose – I would help keep and preserve these animals that were now being hunted for sport.”
Connor nodded sadly, ready to move on and see more. “After most of the full blooded dragons were abolished from Caedia and Ibays, he started hunting Gaels, too.”
Gianara nodded. “So I was told. That is why we must protect the sanctity of this place. Men are not the gods they think themselves to be, with the right to take lives at their whim. We are guardians of creatures of old and hold that responsibility with great care so that those who seek to destroy them will not achieve their goal.”
“So you train dragons to fight?”
She unbuckled a pouch at her belt and pulled out an odd little instrument: several tubes of bamboo were lashed together in descending length and decorated by a woven band near the top where they were all even. “We teach the dragons different melodies on the pan flute when they are hatchlings. Some are for summoning, some are for offensive maneuvers, while others still are for defense. Some, however, are to calm and comfort.”
Stepping out onto another wide ledge, Connor was captured for a moment by the blaze of light and color in the sky. As the sun dropped lower over the distant horizon, clouds of pink and lilac streaked across a gradient of blue like the gashes in the side of the water dragon. When he turned away, he could see people moving far below with torches and lanterns in the failing light, and somehow knew they had missed supper. When Gianara sat, Connor did the same and dangled his legs over the edge as he watched her, forgetting about the empty pit in his stomach. He saw her raise the flute to her lips and take a deep breath before blowing into them. The notes that rose into the air were soft, breathy in a way that made him feel like he was a child again, his mother humming a song as she held him and rocked him. Gianara's eyes were closed as she moved the instrument back and forth, blowing each pipe with confidence. The music seemed to surround them, bouncing off the mountain wall behind them and floating out over the valley below. Torches stopped where they were and Connor could imagine all the faces turned up toward the sound.
A whoosh of air startled him, but Gia played on, her slow tune unaffected by the airborne dragons that had begun to fly closer. She opened her eyes to watch both the boy and the dragons that were beginning to flock around them. One dragon, a slim, tall beast with dark blue and purple scales that shimmered with a pink iridescence in the moonlight, landed on the ledge and tucked its wings in close to its back. Connor watched it with wide eyes, his head whipping around as another, smaller dragon of yellow, orange, and red landed as well. More and more dragons surrounded them. The ones that landed closed their eyes and swayed to the music like a human dancing. The sight rendered Connor speechless, even when the last note of the song was played and Gianara lowered her flute.
Reaching a little behind her, Gianara ran her hand over the pale green belly of an earth dragon and said something quietly to it in a language Connor didn't recognize. He watched the dragon carefully, shocked when he could see the corners of the dragon's eyes wrinkle as though it were laughing or smiling. Then, out of nowhere, it began to thrum. Like a cat purring, the sound came from deep within the dragon, causing the ledge to vibrate beneath him. The wonder with which Connor beheld the dragons turned fearful at the sudden motion beneath him.
“Stay calm,” Gianara soothed, glancing at him. “You have nothing to fear. Listen, the others are joining in as well.”
It was impossible not to notice. So many of the dragons had landed around them, their thrumming joined together making it feel like the sound and the sensation were in his veins. He covered his ears and looked at Gianara with a leery grin. “They're so loud. What does that sound mean?”
“It means they are at peace.” Gianara rose to her feet slowly, telling Connor to do the same so as not to startle any of them. As they walked back toward the mountain, the dragons took off like a flock of birds. Both of them turned to watch the beasts, Connor smiling in wonder. “They respond well to music. It touches something inside of them that we still do not understand. The dragon song, the one I just played, has become something of a family melody. We can all play it and the dragons love to hear it. They know it means safety and some of them can even sing it back to us.”
Connor looked up at Gianara in clear disbelief. “The dragons can sing?”
She chuckled. “Would you like to meet some who can?”
“Yes!”
They went higher still as the moon took its place in the sky. There was a certain awareness within Connor that told him Jaryn and Cailin were going to be worried he was gone so long, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There hadn't been a day in his life before this when he'd felt so happy and free. Dragons had been his passion since the day he could recognize their shapes in his toys and books his father showed him. Never had he imagined a place like this could exist, where dragons and humans lived together in such harmony.
When it felt as though they'd climbed to the very top of the mountain, Gianara led him into the mouth of one of the largest caves he'd seen yet. It was deep and set father back, with no light to be seen. Connor hesitated slightly, letting Gianara enter first. She pulled her pan flute out once more and blew a merry little tune into it. Silence returned at first, then the notes were repeated back from the depths, a growled melody that sounded like the howl of an old feral wolf and repeated in thinner, higher pitched sounds. “Was that...?” Gianara didn't answer. She simply walked into the cave with Connor close on her heels.
There was straw and bones littered here and there, remnants of old bedding and consumed meals from long ago. Their path was a long and curving one, and he was relieved when he saw the flickering light of a fire when they rounded a corner. Yet even before they entered the chamber before them, Connor stopped and stared at the dragon that lay in wait for them. Its scales were a muted gold, flecked with forest green, brown, and gray, and its eyes were bright orange. It wasn't the largest dragon he'd seen by any standard, but what had him immobilized were the seven different multi-colored smaller dragons that ran all around it.
“Come inside,” Gianara urged. She approached the dragon with confidence and stroked the side of its face, watching the young ones with fondness. “This is one of our foster dams – that is what you call a mother dragon – and her chosen clutch of hatchlings.”
Connor entered the cave and stood in wonder. The hatchlings clambered over the docile dam, pouncing at the way the light reflected on her scales, leaping and snapping playfully at one another, gnawing on her horns and spinal ridges. Some of them greeted Gianara like a dog welcoming its master home, but most of them were too busy playing to care. One little hatchling, it's scales lavender and navy, walked across the cavern floor with dark eyes fixed on Connor. Seeing the creature cautiously approaching, Connor crouched and held out his hand. “It's okay, girl...boy...whatever you are.”
“That one is a girl,” Gianara told him, pulling a green hatchling from her shoulder and putting it on the floor.
“Come here, girl. I won't hurt you.” The drackling was close enough now to sniff at Connor's outstretched hand, her curiosity grabbing the attention of some of the others. Soon, three more were coming his way, watching their foster sister for her reaction to the boy. The drackling flicked its forked tongue out against Connor's palm and the others surged forward to sniff him. All at once, the lavender one thrust her head into Connor's palm and began thrumming. This was all the encouragement needed for the others, and they launched themselves at him, climbing over him and flicking curious tongues over his face and body like little puppies.
“Stop,” Connor giggled, pushing one away from his face as a tongue went in his ear, though another was there to fill the suddenly empty space. “They're going to eat me!” He was knocked on his back as the rest of the hatchlings joined in, making Connor laugh all the louder. “This is the best day of my entire life!”
The older dragon lifted her head and watched her brood for a moment. When it seemed she was no longer fond of the fact that her clutch was crawling all over a human, she made a low sound in her throat. It started with the sound of a growl but continued in a short melody a tenor singer could easily copy. Whatever it was that was communicated through the song, the young dragons extracted themselves from the mass of bodies all over Connor, one by one, and returned to the side of the dam.
“Come,” Gianara said, grasping Connor's hand and pulling him to his feet. “It is time for the hatchlings to eat and rest.”
Following along back down the long hallway, Connor asked, “Do all the dragons sing like that?”
“Just as I played the song out there for all the dragons, each ride
r who has imprinted on a dragon has a special song between them and have more among their own kind.”
“What's imprinting?”
“It is usually done when dragons are first hatched. They are cared for by a human instead of a dam, making the hatchling recognize their caretaker almost like a parent. It is a special bond created that none can sever.” Gianara climbed up a steep flight of stairs, glancing behind her to make sure Connor was still with her. “When feral dragons are brought here it is much the same, though the process is much more tedious. They tend to think they are their own masters when they are no longer babies.”
The boy was careful as he followed her, bracing himself against a biting wind that sped through the stairway from an opening above. “How do you get them when they're babies? Why are some fostered and some imprinted on? Can I imprint on one?”
“We have a rookery that is filled with more eggs than there are people here. Though they hatch at different times, not all hatchlings are able to have human companions, thus the foster dams are needed to help care for them since many of the older dragons were killed years ago. We also have a waiting period for newcomers before they are allowed to begin training with the dragons.”
“What's a rookery?”
Slinging her arm around Connor's shoulder, Gianara slowly ushered him out onto the highest landing in the mountain passages so he could see the entirety of the island. “So many questions. It is a good thing I am patient.”
~*~*~*~
It was quite late by the time Connor came bursting through the door of the house. Jaryn bolted upright from the bed he'd made of the two chairs turned to face one another, cursing as he wrenched his ribs with the sudden movement. Cailin came rushing out of the bigger bedroom before Connor could even react, the wash bin in her hand raised above her head as though she were about to use it as a weapon.