The Legend of the Dragon Child

by Cheryl Rush Cowperthwait

  Chapter 10

  At long last, Zelspar glimpsed sight of their home straight ahead and turned to give Galdean a smile. It suddenly felt as if they had been gone as long as Galdean felt it had been, and that was too long.

  A gleam flashed in Galdean’s sparkling emerald eyes as he looked towards his destination. Home. It felt like he had been gone since he had been a hatchling, but he would not say that to Zelspar.

  Their wings pushed with force. They moved even the treetops as they dashed above them. As they approached, loud roars and bellows of welcome sounded all around them. Quickly the ground was filled with the flashing colors of all Hails, eager to welcome home Zelspar and Galdean.

  Out in the very front were Queen Starleira and King Rynik of the Mursei, their great maws opened wide in boisterous roars, their wings waving down the flyers.

  Zelspar and Galdean had hardly touched the ground when they were engulfed in the crowd of Dragons. The commotion became so loud, Rynik had to unfurl his wings open wide to draw attention and quiet amongst the Dragons.

  He spoke to all gathered. “We all welcome you home, Galdean and Zelspar. Let us all go in for a shared meal and talks. We are just as hungry to hear your words and the challenges of dealing with the surly patient we call Galdean!”

  Roars of laughter were exchanged as the gathered Dragons made their way inside. Zelspar exchanged a cautious look with Galdean, hoping he understood the time was not right for bringing the Queen and King up to date in regard to Wyrtregon or Dargenoin. A light nod from Galdean affirmed his desire.

  Zelspar raised his voice to be heard over the others. “Hails all, we thank you for the warm greeting. We are quite glad to be amongst you once again.”

  The noise diminished to hushed whispers, allowing all to hear his words. “You left me entrusted with this heap of bones who loves to quarrel about his care.” The room once again filled with laughter, and Zelspar had to wait for it to subside before he could continue. “I expected no less from the mighty Warrior who defeated even death, but he sure wore this old Dragon down.”

  Galdean joined in the fun. “Me? You half-blind old Dragon, I always had to watch what you sprinkled into my water or on my food. With all your poking and prodding and cinching up my ribs, I felt sure you were trying to put an end to me!”

  The gleam in King’s eyes could not go unnoticed.

  The Queen smiled, thinking how good it was to all be together again with the caves echoing the sounds of happiness. For once in a very long time, all seemed right in their lives. This was surely a day of celebration.

  Starleira walked up to Zelspar and grabbed his arm to guide him to the food and drink. She leaned her head against his for a brief moment and gave him the sign of deep affection.

  Behind them followed the King and Galdean, laughing and talking. Zelspar turned around to say something when he saw Galdean talking close to Rynik’s ear. He felt a sudden fire boiling in his belly and was a moment away from exploding when he saw King Mursei gently slap Galdean on the shoulder and say, “No, it is all well. Go be seated, I know you are tired from both the flight and your recovery. We’ll bring platters of food and meet you.”

  Zelspar swallowed his quick anger. Why would he think Galdean would speak out of turn to Rynik? Yes, yes. They are old friends, such as he and Starleira, but that is no reason to think Galdean would... Would what? He lightly shook his head. By all that is Dragon, I have lost my train of thought, he mused. He snatched up a platter of food and sat down just a moment before the Queen and King joined him.

  Starleira noticed the very tired look in Zelspar’s eyes and mentioned, “Friend, eat and drink. Then go home to rest. We can all tell tales after both you and Galdean have time to recover. We are so glad to have you both home again, we became too eager. By our orders. Eat. Drink. Rest!” She finished by hugging the old White Dragon and turned to be seated, too quickly to notice the water pooling in his eyes.

  Zelspar longed to be alone with his thoughts. As happy as he was to be back with the Hails, he also felt he needed time to sort his thoughts. He needed to visit the Ancestors. His mind seemed clouded with doubts and that, by all that is Dragon, would not do.

  He half-heartedly joined in on the light conversations and did his required eating and drinking in fellowship before he asked leave of the gathering. They all understood and gave him bids of rest. He noticed Galdean abruptly stood and also said his goodbyes saying his eyes were wearier than his wings.

  The two friends departed their table and made their way to their own caves. As Zelspar turned to walk away, Galdean reached out and clutched his arm, “Zelspar? I have to ask you... Do you feel normal, I mean to say, is all well with you?”

  Zelspar’s chest puffed up as he scowled. “What in the name of Dragons, are you saying to me? You think I’m unfit in some capacity?” His eyes glared yellow at Galdean.

  “No friend, that isn’t what I meant. It is only that I’ve been feeling...a little unlike myself. I suppose I’m just tired. Recovery is hard you know...” He tried to offer a cautious smile.

  Zelspar’s shoulders dipped back to normal. He deeply rubbed his brows before answering. “I am sorry Galdean. I do not know why I reacted so harshly. Yes, now that you bring it up, I too, have felt a bit off. I say we both need some deep rest to fit back into our skins correctly.”

  With that, the friends clasped arms and parted ways, feeling a smidge less bothered by the day.

  Finally, alone in his lair, Zelspar eased himself onto his nesting bed made soft of leaves, feathers and furs. He sat there, hunched up, his long talons tapping lightly against his leathery face. The inner turmoil he was feeling had only grown larger since his conversation with Wyrtregon, the Historian.

  He reflected on their meeting and the obvious amount of importance given to it. Scratching the ridge bone above his eyes, he concentrated on every aspect of the meeting. Why was Wyrtregon sent to him? Why didn’t the Ancestors warn him of potential harm? Why was he being selected as the one who could or would do or not do the very thing that would be detrimental to all Dragons? He must take apart each question his mind asked to find a solution.

  So, there he hunched, for most of the night. He took apart his questions, he lobbed answers until he felt confident in his assessment of each in his mind. Yet, after all the time, after all the scrutiny, he still found no solution on exactly what decisions he could make or not make which could lead to such a devastating outcome for the Dragons.

  It was utter lunacy to try to project an answer when he could not grasp the situation which could expose the Dragons to that vast of a danger.

  Perhaps...perhaps, he thought, he should remove himself from the Hails. In that manner, he certainly could not make a wrong decision to jeopardize the Hails. He did greatly enjoy the camaraderie between all the Hails, and then of course, the Teaching. He would miss that indeed. He slumped his shoulders as a deep sigh escaped his body.

  He felt so weary. Physically and mentally. And with this one thought brought on another serious question. Why was he so quick to anger, so quick to believe Galdean meant to bring harm against his very character? Galdean had always showed himself to be an honorable Dragon. Why, he even took on missions no ordinary Warrior would have chosen. Why should he have doubt with him?

  And then, a sudden flash ignited in his brain. Zelspar bolted upright in his nest and his eyes flew open wide. By all that is Dragon, what have I done?

  He sprung out of his nest, threw a bundle of packets together, loaded his pouches and bag and slipped out into the still dark pre-morning air. He had to speak with the Ancestors at once.

  Zelspar’s claws grabbed deeply into the rocks at the edge of the mountain. The winds moved Zelspar’s hair and pressed against him as he prepared to call on the Ancestor. He placed two packets on the rocks and swiftly blew fire on them before the wind could carry them away. The plumes of smoke blew with the wind and then lifted above Zelspar. Suddenly, they moved opposite of the wind.

  H
is curled hands wove magic into the smoke as he uttered the hidden name of the Ancestor. A distant storm flashed, zigzagging light across the sky briefly, illuminating the approaching billowing thunderheads. His foot talons dug into the rocks deeper to keep his balance.

  He scanned the sky for his answer. As he stared, a swirl of stars changed positions until they formed the Constellation of the Dragon. He dropped to his knees as a shape thrust out of its center and headed directly towards him. His ears ached, the pressure pushing in on them too great. A loud roar collided with the thunder and flattened Zelspar.

  His words crawled out of him like a scratch against metal, tinny in his own ears, but it was enough. The wind ceased and the thunder rumbled to its end.

  “Zelspar, why did you only NOW come to me?” the very angry Ancestor yelled as he flicked stars away as if they were mere Dragon droppings.

  “Ancestor, I did!” Zelspar moaned out.

  “No Zelspar, you did not. Not until now. Have you deduced your grave error?”

  “I... I believe I have Ancestor. Is it Galdean? When I reunited his Spirit to his flesh? I made some error...”

  The Ancestor’s voice boomed even louder. “Fool! You still do not grasp the gravity of what has happened. You did not come to me; instead you listened to the wind. You answered the Call presuming you knew it was right to do. Who do you think put the Call out to you? Was it I? No! I always appear to you. You flew right into Dargenoin’s trap.”

  Zelspar trembled. By all that is Dragon, it cannot be. His mind flashed, throwing memories across his eyes, in bold emblazoned detail. It is true. I did not stop and seek the Ancestor. I only followed the Call; afraid I would lose it. Thorns of grief pierced his body.

  “You and Dargenoin returned the spirit to Galdean. Galdean! The mighty Warrior, just and full of Honor. He died a Warrior’s death. He saved his King. He would have been written down in our History by the Historian as being the Warrior beyond compare! That entry has now been erased.”

  A low groan crawled out of Zelspar’s gut and ripped open his jaws in an ear-splitting cry.

  “Do you now see what has taken place? The thread was broken, broken, when Galdean died. Dargenoin sent the Call to you and deceived one of the Weavers of the Strings to tie the thread together, convincing him Galdean’s strong spirit had sent the Call. When you called for help, it was the Deceiver who obliged you. Do you not know when the thread of Life is broken it is beyond repair? By tying his String back together, he has been corrupted!” The Ancestor was inflamed with anger, constantly circling and diving close to Zelspar as he chastised him.

  Zelspar wept uncontrollably. The torment he felt could find no end.

  “You must know Dargenoin is near. He brought you to a false oasis. You and Galdean drank of its vile waters allowing Dargenoin’s poison to enter your bodies. Do you not understand? I cannot help you now. You answered to Dargenoin. I am blocked from any assistance in the matter! Grrrhh!” His roar shook the mountain and Zelspar with it.

  When Zelspar lifted his face from the dirt, the Ancestor was gone. He lay in the rubble of himself and wept as the sun rose. His very soul was inconsolable. His choked cries could only reach his own ears. “What have I done? Oh, what have I done?" He wept until he had no tears to bring up from that vast well.

  He pondered, what next? In the hours that followed, a rage set its seed in Zelspar. He grabbed up his packets, bundles and bag and flew with the might of a new Dragon. His thunderous roar echoed against the mountains as he flew, knocking down boulders as he passed. He would not be made a fool, he would not!

  Galdean moaned and tossed through the night. A fever had worked through his body causing him to sweat and tremble. His mind was tormented with horrible thoughts and pictures which loomed over him, gloating.

  Large tears filled his eyes and cascaded down his armored cheeks. His hand swept away the droplets and shook them from his hand. They calcified, turning into stones as they hit the ground. In his delirium, he quickly gathered them into a stone box and hid the box in a niche of the cave.

  The King woke to the sounds of Galdean’s groans and rushed off to see what the problem was. He entered his lair and found Galdean thrashing across his nest, pale with fever.

  “Galdean, awake!” he shouted. “Galdean, I’m here. It’s your friend, Rynik.”

  Galdean yelled out, “You are no friend, leave me. Let me die and be done with this torment!”

  “No Galdean, you are with fever. I will find Zelspar and bring him to you. He will know what to do to help you.”

  Rynik’s mind was in a panic as his feet thundered from Galdean’s lair in search of Zelspar. Checking first his cave and then his Teaching rooms, he was nowhere to be found. “Zelspar,” he called out, but had no reply. He rounded the tunnel and barely avoided a collision with the Queen.

  “What is it, Rynik? What is wrong?” She said, her voice embedded with worry.

  “It’s Galdean. He is very ill. He is burning up with fever and has turned pale, and I cannot find Zelspar anywhere. Did he mention last night he would be going anywhere?”

  “No, my King. He only said he was weary and wanted to retire. The only thing that comes to mind is that in the past he would suddenly disappear if he had a Vision. Otherwise, I can’t imagine him simply leaving. Certainly not without him telling us and leaving instructions regarding Galdean. They had only just returned.”

  “We must help Galdean, Starleira. I have never seen a Dragon so sick.” The King’s face was flushed, and beads of perspiration had formed above his eyes.

  “My beloved King, I will bring a Healer back to tend to Galdean until Zelspar returns. We should limit those trying to see Galdean until we know of what he suffers…” The Queen said and quickly left.

  When she returned. she found King Mursei bent over his ailing friend. She grimaced and said, “Rynik, the Healer is here.”

  The Healer rushed in with his bags and pouches and went straightway to Galdean. When he looked up, it was with alarm.

  “This is no ordinary fever,” the Healer explained. “His flesh and spirit are in battle. A poison is moving throughout the webs that move his blood. I will do all that I can, but as for the both of you, leave. You must go immediately and cleanse yourself in the outside pools. When you can, have someone bring water to the entrance of Galdean’s cave. No one can enter, is that clear?”

  Starleira and Rynik exchanged concerned looks but agreed.

  Chapter 11

  Zelspar flew to the East, following the path that would lead him back to Wyrtregon. He wondered if he had been too quick to discount Galdean’s thoughts regarding Wyrtregon. What if they had been deceived from the very beginning? Did they actually meet Dargenoin? It would make sense for Dargenoin to stay close by, to put his plan into action.

  The anger swept over Zelspar as a raging fire, consuming him. His eyes glared as he recalled speaking with the three-headed beast. Even the beast had said, the Historian had been rarely seen. There is no description of the Historian, he could be any Dragon--.

  But why then, he pondered, would he warn of Dargenoin? Perhaps to throw him off to being in his very presence? Whether he is Wyrtregon or Dargenoin, these Immortal Dragons shall answer for their part in this assault. By all that is Dragon, he had better have answers for what has been done!

  Zelspar flew across the still darkened landscape with one goal in mind. He would rip from the beast the answers he deserved. He was sure the beast who called himself Wyrtregon knew more than he had told. If he was indeed Wyrtregon, he, at the very least also had a part in all of this. His own mouth said he had to approve the Weavers to allow Galdean’s spirit to rejoin the flesh. The two Immortals had disturbed the Strings, it is they who have caused the poison that now threatens to destroy the future of Dragons.

  The first light of dawn broke like a Dragon’s egg, sliding down the tops of the mountains, guiding Zelspar close to his destination. With the light brought renewed energy. He would find the answer. Immortal
or not, he would find a way to make them pay dearly for this travesty.

  His keen eyes picked out the small ledge that led to the cave he and Galdean had shared.

  He zipped through the sky and landed heavily onto the ledge.

  With not a second of hesitation he yelled out, “Wyrtregon, show yourself! If that is indeed your name.”

  He paused for a flick of a tail and bellowed louder. “Wyrtregon or Dargenoin, whoever you are, answer me now before I bring this whole mountain down upon you.”

  Through the dim interior, Zelspar saw the great three-headed Dragon lumber forward, his red eyes glowing.

  “Zelspar, why have you returned to me? What wild accusations do you throw at me? Was it not I who gave you the warnings? Why would you think I would be the Deceiver?”

  Zelspar roared his anger at the three-faced beast. “You could just as well be Dargenoin. By your own words, the Historian has rarely been seen. You could have planned the whole meeting between Galdean and me to further your agenda.” His jaws clenched tight as did his hands. He was primed for battle.

  “Stop your mind from spinning truth into chaos, Zelspar. You must fight the poison from spreading throughout your body if you are to bring the future of Dragons to their rightful place. I am not your enemy. I came to you to bring you the knowledge of what was done. You have no quarrel with me.”

  “You know more than what you shared; of that I am certain. You had better tell me everything,” he roared. "You have interfered, the same as Dargenoin, it is your obligation to help me find the solution.”

  “You have only to ask the Ancestors. Surely, they can guide you to what remedies or magic you may use to clear the poison of Dargenoin,” huffed the three-headed Dragon.

  “The Ancestors!” Zelspar roared into Wyrtregon’s central face. “The Ancestors have accused me of answering the Call from Dargenoin. Dar-ge-noin! They hold me accountable for the changing of History by reuniting Galdean’s spirit to his flesh. They blame me for Galdean’s history being erased for the new unfolding future. They are angry. The Ancestor said because I answered the Call from Dargenoin, they will not offer me any help.”