Many of the children and instructors armed themselves with rocks and long sticks. Even Magic heaved a pebble and hit the obsidigon above one eye, causing it to flinch. Leading the charge was Romeo, ahead of the crowd by a dozen steps. The dragon descended on the unsuspecting boy as its talons grabbed hold of Romeo and carried him off the ground. As he rose higher and higher, he could only watch in despair as the dragon sent fireball after fireball upon the scattering villagers below, whose homes were now engulfed in flames.
The creature kept an iron grip on the seven crystals in one talon and Romeo in the other, as the flames engulfing Rainbow Village grew smaller and smaller. As the dragon flew ever farther away, the fires became orange dots in a sea of blackness. Romeo strained to keep his eye on the flames as the orange dots became a single speck that disappeared as the obsidigon headed eastward.
Four
Aftermath
THE MORNING DAWNED BLEAK AND STORMY on Rainbow Island, rain falling hard amidst flashes of lightning and thunder. The rain had started shortly after the attack of the obsidigon, sparing the village from total destruction. Even with the rains, the fires had caused massive damage; nearly half the village was either completely or partially burned. Smoke and cinder replaced the idyllic peace of just the day before.
Because the Island had never before experienced war or violence, its small medical clinic was ill equipped to handle all the wounded from the night before. All told, one of the teachers died, and three were severely wounded, including Yu-ning’s master Metatron. Eleven children had been injured, some seriously. To make room for more wounded, they converted the main hall of the Rainbow School into a temporary hospital. This is where Cristobel, Yu-ning’s archery instructor, was headed, to check on Yu-ning and the other children.
Cristobel had come to Rainbow Island as a child and was taught the art of the bow by her master teacher. She was tall, thin, and athletic, with lovely round eyes of deep brown to match her long hair, which she normally kept in beautiful braids. She was the best archer on the Island, and taught her students to only use a bow and arrow in self-defense, never in anger.
Cristobel walked quietly into the school hall, which at first she did not recognize. The main hall she knew was a colorful, airy room, with floor-to-ceiling white curtains, three sets of French doors on each wall, and lovely mahogany benches. But all of the hand-carved school furniture that normally adorned the room had been removed, and cots occupied most of the large space. Cristobel walked from bed to bed, visiting her pupils and her adult colleagues. Metatron was sleeping heavily, the Island’s doctor standing near his bed.
“How is he, Doctor?” inquired Cristobel.
“He has suffered a severe blow to the head, and there is swelling. I won’t know the extent of the damage until the swelling around his brain subsides. Until then, all we can do is keep him comfortable. He also suffered burns on his legs and torso.”
“Thank you for all you are doing,” added Cristobel as she moved on, visiting each of the cots down the row. At the end she saw Yu-ning’s cot, and what she saw brought tears to her eyes. Yu-ning’s face was swollen and bruised, and her left arm and shoulder were wrapped in bandages containing healing herbs and balm. She was asleep, but tossing fitfully in her cot.
The doctor joined Cristobel at Yu-ning’s bedside and inspected the skin under her bandages. “The bruising is superficial, but the burns she sustained on her arm and shoulder are deep, and we need to make sure they don’t become infected. She will make a full recovery, but this dark day will always remain with her in the form of her scars. All in all, she was fortunate. It could have been much worse.” The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Cristobel’s shoulder as he moved away to attend to some of the other children.
Cristobel placed her staff next to Yu-ning’s bedside and sat beside her. She brushed the hair gently away from Yu-ning’s face, which caused Yu-ning to shift in her bed and slowly open her eyes. “Cristobel . . . what is going on?”
“Do you not remember last night, Yu-ning? The dragon?”
Yu-ning didn’t say a word, but sudden tears appeared in her eyes as she remembered the terrible events of the night before—and the abduction of Romeo. “I couldn’t help Romeo, Cristobel. I was knocked down and was trying to get up to warn him to move off the path, but it was too late . . .”
“There is nothing you could have done, dear one. The dragon was too strong, and we had no way to defend ourselves,” said the teacher.
“Metatron. How is my master?”
“He is unconscious right now, Yu-ning. The doctor has given him an herbal sedative to help him sleep, and his brain is still swollen. The next twenty-four hours are critical. We must hope and pray that the swelling subsides and that there is no permanent damage.”
Yu-ning did not say anything else but shifted in the bed, her back now to Cristobel. The little girl reached her free hand over her shoulder, and Cristobel took ahold of it. The instructor sat quietly holding her hand until Yu-ning finally drifted off to sleep.
Yu-ning slept off and on for two days. She dreamt she was in a stone tower on a high mountain. She was caretaker of the tower, and for days upon days it rained. Try as she might, the rain kept seeping under the stones and through the roof, and no matter what she did, she could not stop the water from seeping into the tower’s inner chambers. She used blankets and mops and buckets to soak up the water, but she had no place to dump the water, except out of the stone windows. But every time she threw a bucket of water out the window, it would end up trickling back down toward the base of the structure and begin seeping back in.
Finally the grey clouds covering Rainbow Island began to break, and the rainstorm blew itself out to sea. After three long days of torrential rains, the sun reappeared. But instead of bringing joy to the Island, it had the opposite effect: for the first time, the Islanders fully understood what the loss of the sacred crystals meant. There was no rainbow. And with the disappearance of the sacred rainbow came a strange, melancholy light. Not the kind of light that brings a smile to a child’s face—a grey, brooding light. It was as if the Island itself were mourning the loss of the great rainbow.
Slowly, the bruising around Yu-ning’s eyes and nose began to heal, and the swelling subsided. The bruises, though smaller, were nasty shades of purple and blue. And though her face did not pain her, the burns on her left arm and shoulder did. Even the strong herbal tea the doctor gave her only took the edge off the pain.
On the fifth day after the attack, Cristobel came to visit Yu-ning. “The doctor says it’s fine for you to begin walking—that the exercise and fresh air will do you good. Plus, there is someone who could benefit from seeing that crooked smile of yours.”
Yu-ning’s legs were shaky but in good working order. Her arm was bandaged and wrapped in a sling. She walked gingerly around the makeshift hospital, using Cristobel for support. They made their way to Metatron’s bedside, and Yu-ning was heartened to see him awake and alert.
They sat next to the great wizard’s bed. “I am so happy to see you awake, Metatron. I . . . I was so worried . . .” Yu-ning’s voice broke off as she began to sob, placing her head on Metatron’s chest. The wizard winced silently, as his ribs were very tender, but he did not want to let Yu-ning know. He patted her head gently and smiled for the first time in many days.
“Yu-ning, the sight of you has accelerated my healing by leaps and bounds. I feel as if I could take on the obsidigon myself, seeing you up and about. Let me see you, child. How are your burns healing?”
Yu-ning slowly removed her left arm from its sling and gently pulled back the bandages around her wound. Metatron, who was wise in the ways of natural healing, examined the wound carefully. “It looks like our good doctor is taking excellent care of you, my dear. The balm he is using is working nicely, and . . .”
Metatron stopped, transfixed as he stared at the underside of Yu-ning’s left arm, just on the inside of her upper tricep. “Why, this is amazing . . .” he muttered. He
turned the arm this way and that, in his excitement causing Yu-ning to wince in pain. “I’m sorry, Yu-ning. It’s just that I have not seen this in several decades . . .” Again the tall wizard’s voice trailed off, leaving Yu-ning and Cristobel to exchange quizzical looks.
“What it is, Master Metatron? What do you see?” queried Cristobel.
“Why, I am not 100 percent positive, but I believe something extraordinary is happening here, Cristobel. I believe we have a Darq Render in our midst.”
As he said this, the old wizard and Cristobel gazed at Yu-ning in what could only be described as a new light. They were smiling at her, but there was also a sense of reverence in their looks that made her feel a little uncomfortable.
“I don’t understand . . . why are you both looking at me that way?”
Metatron asked for a drink of water. Cristobel poured water from an earthen jar next to his bed and handed a ceramic mug to Metatron, who drank deeply. He handed the water back to Cristobel and with both hands smoothed the covers around himself, gathering his thoughts. “Yu-ning, do you see that birthmark on the inside of your left arm, above your elbow?”
“Yes, I’ve had it since I was a baby.”
“Look closely at it, and tell me what you see.”
“I don’t see anything at all,” said Yu-ning, now thoroughly puzzled.
“Exactly!” said Metatron with growing excitement. “Look at the skin all around that birthmark. It is red and burned from the attack. But the birthmark and the skin around it were not touched by the dragon’s fire. Don’t you see, Yu-ning? The old texts say that every Darq Render has a crescent-shaped mark on the inside of their left arm, as you do. But I never thought anything of yours—I just thought it was an ordinary birthmark. But I was wrong. The texts also tell us that the certain sign of a Darq Render is that their mark cannot be damaged or harmed by dragon’s fire. That perfect and unburned skin is proof that you are, indeed, a Darq Render.” The wizard had raised himself up in bed by his arms in his excitement, but now he collapsed back down, his fragile state getting the better of him.
“I honestly did not know any of the bloodline were still alive,” he finally offered, as if starting in mid-thought. “The last known Darq Render disappeared into the northern wastes of Darqendia more than twenty-five years ago. Since then, I have been waiting and watching for their return, but to no avail.”
Cristobel and Yu-ning helped Metatron get comfortable in his bed and poured him more water, which he accepted with gratitude. His voice dropped an octave as he gestured Yu-ning to come closer. “The only way for you to fully learn all there is to know about a Darq Render, Yu-ning, is to meet the man who knows more about them than anyone I know. Very few people still survive from the Great Obsidigon War, but one in particular can be of great help to us, I believe. His name is Balthazar, and he lives on Gracia Island in the Tower of Light. I first met him on the plains of Darqendia, immediately after the last battle against the obsidigons. I was serving behind the lines, as a healer to the wounded.
“There were hundreds of obsidigons then, and the Darq Renders were the only warriors who battled the beasts on the front lines, their light bows bringing victory over the dragon horde. If it weren’t for the Darq Renders, it is uncertain whether or not we could have defeated the obsidigons.”
Without being aware of it, Yu-ning was gently touching her crescent-shaped birthmark, tracing the arc of the crescent back and forth. As evening wore on, bedside lanterns went dark around the infirmary. Eventually Metatron’s light glowed as a single beacon in the large hall. Long after the other patients drifted off to sleep, Yu-ning, Metatron, and Cristobel still talked about the history of the Darq Renders, their role in defeating the Great Obsidigon Horde, and what had happened to their kind since then.
Metatron told them about how the Renders once ruled Darqendia Island and prospered there in peace. Though the island was now mostly vast expanses of sand dunes and desert, the Renders had discovered diamonds and other precious stones and minerals in the hills and mined the land prosperously They also harvested the bounty of the sea, mastering the arts of shipbuilding, fishing, and ocean trading.
When the warlocks conjured the obsidigon army, their plan was to pillage the precious stones of Darqendia for their own. Thankfully, many of Darqendia’s surrounding neighbors came to their aid, and with the Darq Renders leading the army, the obsidigons and their warlock masters were defeated.
“Each Darq Render bares the mark of the crescent moon, as you do, Yu-ning,” said Metatron. “And there is this: Darq Renders have an ability to understand the obsidigon and to fight it more effectively than other clans or races. That is why that mark on your arm is so significant—you may have inborn abilities against these dragons that the rest of us do not possess,” added Metatron, looking intensely at Yu-ning. She felt a little nauseous and couldn’t quite take in all that her master was saying!
“But no one knows just exactly how the Darq Renders were able to slay the dragons,” Metatron continued. “Legend says that all earthly weapons are ineffective against the beasts. And we have no surviving texts or firsthand accounts of the Darq Renders’ methods in bringing down the obsidigons. They marched into battle as one—alone. The rest of us—all those who did not bear the Darq Render birthmark—stayed in the rear guard, simply waiting to come to the aid of the wounded after the battles were over. All their history has either been lost beneath the sands of Darqendia, or destroyed in the fires wrought by the dragons’ breath. Balthazar is the one man who may still have some clues to these hidden mysteries.”
Metatron paused, a far-off look in his eye. “A rainbow bean for your thoughts, Master,” said Yu-ning.
Metatron smiled and said, “I just remembered the oddest thing. There we were, in the midst of war, surrounded by darkness and destruction, but the thing that I remember most is the colorful butterflies.”
“Butterflies? What do you mean, Master?”
“After the battles, as the Darq Renders marched back from the front lines, oftentimes great masses of butterflies could be seen in the skies,” said Metatron. “I don’t know why I just remembered that—even in war, beauty can be found, I suppose.”
Their heads filled with images of diamonds, deserts, and dragons, Cristobel and Yu-ning sat silently next to Metatron’s bed. After the wizard drifted off to sleep, Cristobel and Yu-ning made their way back to Yu-ning’s cot, where her dinner tray had been placed earlier by one of the teachers-turned-nurses. She said goodnight to Cristobel, nibbled a bit at her food, but soon pushed away the tray, too overwhelmed to eat. She reached under the bed and pulled out the careworn book Cristobel had brought earlier. She hoped it would distract her from the terrors of the past few days and from the revelation of being a Darq Render.
As she slowly and carefully leafed through the thick pages, her eye stopped on a striking image of a dark dragon. It was an exceptional rendering of an obsidigon, which looked a good deal like the beast that had attacked Rainbow Island. Its eyes were piercing and full of malice; it seethed destruction and chaos in the angle of its wings. Its tail was raised high in the air, poised to crash down on a terrified group of Darq Renders. The warriors were frozen in terror, crouching away from the dragon, with wide, terrified eyes.
As Yu-ning carefully closed the book and slid it under her cot, she revisited the evening’s revelations in her mind, floating in that in-between space where wakefulness ends and sleep begins.
Five
Departure
DAYS WENT BY, and each dawn came pale and sullen, the light of the bright tropical sun diminished by the loss of the sacred rainbow. Slowly the village was rebuilding, with many of the burned structures already cleared, fresh timber and thatch taking their place. At least the work of house building served to distract the masters, teachers, and children from the loss of their colleagues, the sacred crystals, and Romeo.
Yu-ning recovered sufficiently to return to her own cave, where she was visited throughout the day by both Cr
istobel and many of her fellow Rainbow Children. Her burns were healing well, allowing her to remove the sling and to do small tasks, with just bandages protecting her arm and shoulder. The herbal remedies given her by the Island doctor worked remarkably, reducing the healing time of the burned skin by half. Though tender to the touch, the skin healed quickly, and the pain diminished more each day.
As she rose one morning, slowly dressing herself and eating the breakfast of eggs, toast, and mango juice that one of the teachers brought her, she heard a familiar voice at the entrance of the cave. “Hello? Are you up, Yu-ning?” It was Cristobel.
“Yes, come in. It’s good to see you, Cristobel. I was just about to come down the path and visit you in the village. How are you?’
“I’m well. Very busy helping to oversee reconstruction. But this morning, we’ve a special visitor who would like to see you. Come outside and you will see what I am talking about.”
Curiosity aroused, Yu-ning emerged from her cave into the morning light, the sun not yet hitting the entrance of her grotto. From between the great tropical trees surrounding the path, she saw a massive creature with enormous, rainbow-feathered wings; it had the head of a man, a pointy eagle nose, a magnificent white-feathered body, and two human legs. The creature’s gigantic, colorful wings seemed to fill the entire sky and radiated shining, dazzling lights.
“Suparna, Suparna, it is so good to see you! It’s been so long since you’ve visited us!”
The breathtaking creature glided to a landing before Yu-ning, lowering his body and wings before her in a sign of respect. “Suparna, your friend, at your service, Yu-ning,” said the regal figure.
Journey to Rainbow Island Page 3