“Last torch is lit,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said, tossing pebbles at the wall for something to do.
“Tough spot we’re in,” she said.
“You know, I don’t even care that I’m probably about to die,” he said, unexpectedly glad for someone to hear his thoughts. “Knowing you guys will too, and because of me…even that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?” she asked.
He hesitated before answering. “I’ll never see her again.” He felt tears on his cheeks and quickly wiped them away in disgust.
“Melissa,” she said.
He nodded, then laughed. “And now I feel guilty for thinking about her and not the mission. Or you guys.”
They sat without talking for a while. Eventually, Rachel had enough of the silence. “You don’t know how it will end. Not yet anyway.”
“What do you mean? How else can it end?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know.” He looked at her, puzzled by her comment. She continued. “Look, how many things in your life have turned out exactly the way you expected?”
That surprised him. The more he considered it, the more he realized it was true. Short of falling off of a log, few things in life could be predicted accurately every time, without fail. The question was how inevitable things were right now. No—even that wasn’t the question. Even if things really were inevitable they still had no way of knowing it, so why act as though it was? It was cold comfort, but it was comfort nonetheless. “You’re thinking more clearly than I am,” said William. “They need you back there coming up with ideas. Why don’t you send Charlie to take your place.”
“You sure?”
He hesitated a second or two before nodding. “If I think of anything brilliant I’ll come back there, but don’t hold your breath. Let me know when the torch has about an hour left.” He didn’t need to explain why. Charlie arrived and sat on the opposite end of the barricade. “Sorry to have you come out here early, Charlie,” William said.
“That’s okay.”
There was something about Charlie’s vulnerability that disturbed William. He was big, he was strong, and hard as it was to believe, he was more shy than William was. And what about his fear of the dark? How does someone live with that? William pondered his own anxieties, and how sad it was that he would not live long enough to outgrow them. Maybe he could help Charlie overcome one of his instead. “Charlie, have you always been afraid of the dark?” he asked. The Guard gave William a questioning look. William continued quickly. “I don’t mean to judge. I have…fears of my own, so I know what it’s like. I figured, if I can understand yours, maybe it will help me understand mine.”
Charlie relaxed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and spoke slowly and quietly. “My mom died when I was young. I don’t even remember her. Dad worked as a smith, but there wasn’t much metal, so he made bricks too. Even that slowed down because no one was building anything. So he worked at the docks as a night watchman.” He shuddered, and continued. “He would leave me alone at home, and…” His voice shook. “Anyway, that’s why I learned to play the flute, so I wouldn’t feel alone.”
William doubted he himself would have fared any better in Charlie’s boots. Any child left alone at night would develop crippling fears. Despite those fears, Charlie had still chosen a career that would lead to confrontation. It was amazing he functioned as well as he did. William hung his head in shame as he recalled how harshly he had judged the Guard. He found it almost impossible for him to look Charlie in the eye. “My father died when I was young,” he said.
“I know,” said Charlie.
William looked up. “You do?”
“Your dad was a hero to the older Guards. Still is. The younger ones don’t know, mostly, and Sir Hendrick never talks about it. But the old guys know.”
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Losing a parent.”
Charlie nodded.
The talk behind them had slowed somewhat, and the exclamations were fewer and quieter. William sensed they had run out of ideas. “Tell you what, Charlie. Why don’t we go back and join the others, and you can play the flute for us.”
Charlie looked doubtful, glancing toward the main tunnel where the dragons waited.
“Don’t worry,” said William. “The dragons haven’t come near us for hours.”
“I was about to come get you,” said Rachel as they approached.
“Charlie is going to entertain us,” William said. The others grinned, welcoming the chance to celebrate what may be their last hour alive. “How much food do we have left? I’m starving.”
Jack went through the pack and passed out what morsels remained. There wasn’t much, but they would not die hungry. Maya patted the ground beside her. “Here, Charlie, sit beside me.” She rested her head on his shoulder and slipped her arm around his waist. She closed her eyes as he played a gentle melody. As gentle notes filled the air Jack gazed over at Rachel, who stared back defiantly. Relenting for reasons she kept to herself, she waved him over. William smiled as she drew Jack close. So there were feelings between the two of them after all.
And here he was, alone, even amongst his friends. Sorrow gripped his chest like a belt cinched too tight. He couldn’t let the others see his feelings; it wouldn’t be fair to darken their last moments. He knew who he wanted with him, just as he knew he would never allow it given the choice. To ask her to share his danger in order to avoid being alone…never. Still, he envied the others. An idea came to him. “Steve!” he called. He didn’t need to ask twice; the dog bounded to him as soon as his name was called, eager to vanquish his own sense of isolation now that his mistress was spoken for. As the gentle beast rested his head on William’s lap, the last remaining tension dissipated and everyone burst into laughter. Even Charlie was laughing so hard he had difficulty playing. As he regained his composure he settled into a tune that mesmerized the others into silence. Tendrils of sound reached out and lulled them into a trance, whispering of sadness and hope, of beginnings and endings, of solitude and intimacy. William wished it would never end.
He closed his eyes and stroked the dog’s head. Charlie had played for them before, but never like this. He had played songs and little tunes they could sing along to, but this was far more personal. In a moment of clarity, William understood this was the music Charlie had played to keep his hope alive during those dark, solitary nights, when a family home had left him feeling both caged and exposed. That he would share it with them was a gift beyond compare.
When the second flute joined in, his mind soared on wings of ecstasy, as though a mere mountain of rock could not confine his soul. No one should be able to play so well, William thought; it was almost too much of a good thing. Wait…second flute? He opened his eyes; Charlie was still only playing one flute. The others had their eyes closed; they didn’t realize what was happening. His heart pounded with excitement. “Charlie, wait,” he said.
“Will, no,” Maya said sleepily. “Don’t spoil it.”
“I’m not spoiling anything, Maya—listen! Charlie, play that last bit again.”
Charlie repeated the melody, and again another flute joined in.
“Don’t you hear?” asked William. “The dragons are answering us!”
The English spoken and written today on Esper is remarkably close to that of Earth at the time of Esper’s Colonization more than five hundred years ago. That there should be less change in the language during this time than in the previous half millennium may seem surprising, but scholars have noted potential reasons for this. One is the tendency of colonies to maintain the purity of language as a means of preserving cultural ties to their ancestral homelands. Another, and perhaps more important reason, is that the scientific background of the Colonists instilled a much higher value on education than was prevalent on Earth. Until this century, even though not everyone was literate, at least the appearance of education was still very much in vogue. In recent times this has become less true.
> Planet of Hope: A History of Esperanza
Charlie played several musical phrases. Each one was echoed back note for note from outside the fissure they had been trapped in for the past several hours. Tentatively, they approached their makeshift barrier and watched as a dragon they had not seen before slowly approached with its head low to the ground. William had seen dogs assume this submissive posture; it looked as though the dragon was trying to be as nonthreatening as it could. “Charlie, put your spear away,” he said. “I’m pretty sure it means no harm. But keep your flute handy.”
The new dragon was markedly different, with black and silver scales adorning its body, reminding William of a checker pattern, but more complex. Its claws and teeth were shorter and less threatening, and its tail lacked the spikes its plainer cousins had. Where the others appeared functional—although who knew what their function was—this one seemed ornamental, even decorative, like a Guard officer wearing his dress uniform. It stopped at a safe distance and peered at the group. No one dared breathe, and even the dragon looked as though it was too scared to do anything else. Finally, it blew three clear notes from its snout, which William recognized from Charlie’s tune. He turned to the Guard and nodded. “Play the same tune.” Charlie played the notes, and though the dragon turned his gaze toward the flute, William was sure the dragon first glanced in his direction when he spoke.
Again, it played a series of notes. It seemed as though whistling was a natural form of communication for the dragons, or at least for this one, as they had not seen it use anything artificial to create the sound. Besides, it had no hands with which to hold a flute, just miniature stubs of wings that seemed unsuited for either flying or grasping.
Charlie played the same tune as the dragon. The dragon answered with yet another melody. Before Charlie could respond, William said, “Play something else. Play the same thing, but…longer. More complex.”
“A variation,” said Maya.
Charlie did as he was told. William could hear the notes from the dragon’s phrase within the music that Charlie played, but it was too complex for him to follow. “We can’t keep talking in music,” he said. “Anyone have any ideas?”
Again, the dragon looked toward William when he spoke, as though trying to understand. “Did you bring a Dragon-to-English dictionary?” asked Jack.
“My pack was full, thanks to you. Any ideas, Maya? Rachel? So far Charlie is the only one—”
“Thou…art….men?”
Five heads turned as one, looking to see if the dragon really had spoken. The dragon repeated, “Thou…art….men?”
Maya pushed her way past William to address the dragon. “We are human,” she said.
“Thou…art….not…men?”
Maya pointed at William, Charlie and Jack as she said, “men.” She then gestured to herself and Rachel as she said, “women.” Lastly, she pointed to everyone and said “human.”
“Five…human. And…dog?”
Rachel looked around in disbelief. “This isn’t possible! How—”
“Shh!” said Maya. “Yes, dog. Five humans. Dragon?” she asked, pointing to the dragon.
“Dragon…old…name,” it said.
Maya and the dragon continued their back and forth attempts to communicate, adding words every few exchanges. The dragon continued to suggest new words that were frequently correct, to everyone’s amazement. It seemed to prefer archaic words and forms of English that William recognized from ancient books, works that were old before the Arrival. He agreed with Rachel: this wasn’t possible, not by the greatest stretch. And yet it was happening; he had no choice but to accept reality. There was mystery here, deep mystery, and he hungered to get to the bottom of it.
Maya and Charlie stayed with the dragon while the others retreated to discuss the events where they would not be overheard. “What on Esper…” said Rachel. Her eyes were wider than William had ever seen them, and she continued to shake her head in disbelief. Of more concern was Jack’s silence; for that to happen, he must be in shock.
“You were right, though,” said William. “We didn’t really know how things would turn out.”
“I know, but this?” She laughed. “Look at Steve. He wants to make friends with one of the little copper ones.”
“That’s a vote in their favor if there ever could be. I trust his judgment. What do you think, Jack?”
“Huh? Me? Uh…sure.”
“Jack, get a grip,” said Rachel. “We’re alive. Maybe we’re not out of danger, but we’re alive. And we’ve found something amazing. Isn’t this what you live for?”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“What’s wrong?” asked William.
“I keep thinking about how this is my fault. If I hadn’t jumped down that stupid hole we never would have gotten in this mess.”
“You fault, or your brilliant idea?” asked William.
“Don’t tease me, Will. I apologized.”
“Jack, I’m serious, this might end up being a good thing. It’s better than being captured by bandits, isn’t it? Do you think any good would have come from that?”
“No, but—”
“Do you know anything about dragons?” asked William.
“No, but—”
“Exactly. None of us do. But don’t you think the unknown is at least a little better than a known bad thing?”
“I don’t know, maybe…”
Maya and Charlie joined them.
“Well?” asked William. “Any progress?”
“I think so,” said Maya. “He seems to already know English, or at least an older version of it, and he picks up new words fast. He’s already learned enough words that we can hold a pretty good conversation.”
“What were you talking about?” asked Rachel.
“Well, as near as I can determine, we were discussing our terms of surrender.”
“What?” asked William, taken aback.
“Not much better, eh Will?” said Jack.
“Surrender is better than dead, Jack. What do you mean, ‘surrender’, Maya?”
“They seem to believe we were here to attack them.”
“With five people and a dog?” asked Rachel.
Maya shrugged. “They’re pretty defensive, from what I can make out. He didn’t say as much, but I don’t think all the dragons are built for fighting.”
“They sure look it,” said Jack.
“We fought off the copper one, remember?” said Rachel.
“That’s true,” said Jack.
“So what are the terms?” asked William.
“Well, the Ambassador still needs to get authorization, but for now, we have to stay in the tunnels under guard. We can look around, but we can’t leave.”
“Ambassador?” asked Rachel. “That’s his name?”
“I don’t think they have names,” said Maya. “That’s his job, apparently, so that’s what he’s called.”
The dragons escorted them from their hiding place down the main tunnel to where they had run into the first dragon. A short distance from there they came to another crossroad where they turned right. This tunnel continued upward and led to a large open cavern with a somewhat higher ceiling supported by thick stone columns. Spherical lamps adorned the columns, lighting the space around them without so much as a flicker. The soft, yellow light filled the cavern from one end to the other, with hardly a shadow to be found. It was a welcome change after nothing but torchlight for so long.
Dozens of dragons of different sizes and colors moved about, some fast and some slow, and the group stayed close to their giant escorts to avoid being trampled. Every dragon they saw was in motion; ‘busy as bees’ didn’t do it justice.
“This is but one of many large chambers,” said the Ambassador. “We have a small chamber for thee in this direction.” They followed the Ambassador to another large cavern, similarly lit, but occupied by fewer dragons, many of which were barely moving. They came to a small room chiseled out of the main
chamber’s wall, private and lit with the same lanterns they’d seen everywhere else. At least Charlie would not go crazy down here.
“Thou shalt have food and water,” said the Ambassador. “Hast thou need of anything else?”
“No,” said William. “But are we free to walk around? We won’t try to escape.”
“Remain in this large chamber,” said the Ambassador. “Go not into the tunnel. I must speak with the Elder. He will say your fate.” With that he walked away.
“Pleasant fellow,” said Jack. “Maybe we should give him a name.”
“Why?” asked William.
“You wouldn’t want to be called ‘Librarian’ all the time, would you? How about Hermes?”
“The Greek god of travel?” asked Maya. “What for?”
“Not just travel,” said Jack. “Also diplomacy. Like an ambassador.”
“Call him Jailer for all I care,” said Rachel. “I don’t like the idea of being a prisoner.”
“I’m sure they’ll realize we aren’t a threat, and they’ll let us go,” said Maya. “It’s almost like he’s following a protocol, like he has no choice in the matter.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Well, look,” said William. “When they do release us, I don’t want to go back home and tell people that we only saw this little den. Who wants to go look around?”
They decided to walk around the main chamber, William and Jack in one direction, while Rachel, Maya and Charlie would go the other. William and Jack found other little dens like their own, all carved out as private niches. Most were empty, which seemed odd to William as the rock seemed to be freshly cut. A few were occupied by sleeping dragons, but nothing else. Some dens were guarded, and they made no attempt to look beyond the posted dragons, as they were of the large, threatening black variety.
The Defender of Rebel Falls: A Medieval Science Fiction Adventure (The William Whitehall Adventures Book 1) Page 14