Dragons Sky

by Noah Harris

  “Be swift” he found himself saying, knowing the dragon would hear him.

  There was a barely perceptible nod and then came the powerful downbeat of his wings. Arulean took to the sky with a speed and grace that defied his size. He circled the camp once, caught the wind, and shot out toward the northwest. Rajiah watched him go until his scales could no longer be seen against the night sky.

  He felt foolish for not recognizing the dragon king, but took amused comfort in the fact that the man hadn’t recognized him either.

  Chapter Three

  Weeks after the summoning, dragons started to trickle into the valley. The Summit was traditionally held on the first full moon after the summoning in order to give everyone plenty of time to arrive. They came at all hours of the day and night, circling the valley before landing on the flight grounds below the castle. Their first stop was always to pay respect to Arulean and Lyphnia and to officially announce their presence.

  The two of them were always ready. It was easy to feel a dragon’s presence long before it arrived, and if they weren’t paying attention, they had scouts to alert them. While that dragon circled the valley, Arulean and Lyphnia would shuffle to the great hall to await the new arrival. They would stand regal and proud on the dais in front of their thrones. They would gracefully accept any gift or well wishes the dragon had brought, and then they’d ask a servant to show the guest to a room. The castle had hundreds of guest rooms to accommodate their kin. They even had more cave-like rooms deep in the mountain side for those who felt more comfortable there.

  Then with the formalities dispensed with, the two of them would go their separate ways, as they did every day. He wouldn’t see Lyphnia again until the next guest arrived, and he wouldn’t actively seek her out. He was certain that since the summoning, this was the most he had seen her in years. They usually went days or even weeks without seeing each other, even though they both lived in the castle.

  “Disappointed yet again?” Lyphnia said as their latest guest was escorted out of the great hall, leaving the two of them alone. There was a teasing lilt to her voice, one that Arulean did not like.

  “What reason do I have to be disappointed?” He asked, voice even and almost bored as he picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. He took the steps slowly down from the dais. The click of her heels was right behind him.

  “Arulean, don’t play games. I’ve known you far too long for that. I can read you better than you care to admit.”

  In that, she was unfortunately right. He was disappointed, but that wasn’t a fact he wanted to disclose to her, and it unnerved him greatly that she could pick up that much. “I have no idea what you mean, my dear.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back, chin held high and expression neutral as he strode almost lazily across the great hall. She kept pace with him, examining her nails. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re waiting for a specific person.” Years of concealing his own thoughts kept him from flinching. He saw her eye him sideways, looking for a crack in his armor. He showed her none.

  “What gives you that idea?” He let hints of false amusement leak into his voice, trying to make it sound like an absurd idea.

  Judging from her slight frown, it worked. “You seem almost excited whenever we’re about to greet a guest. And I do say ‘almost’ in the barest of terms, but when you haven’t shown excitement in decades, just a little goes a long way. However, your excitement fades whenever we see our new arrival.”

  He shrugged, melancholy etched into his features and weighing heavily on his shoulders. “It’s always a pleasure to see familiar faces, especially when we go decades without seeing them. But the faces I see are no longer familiar.” Their faces were lined with weariness, bitterness, a hopelessness that couldn’t be ignored but was far too recognizable. They were no longer lively, strong, or proud. Even the most boisterous dragons held an edge of fragility about them that threatened to shatter. Their race was not as it once had been, and that was a sorrow that ate away at his heart. The face of every dragon he saw was a grim reminder of the current state of things. The nostalgia that every guest brought was no longer sweet, but tainted and sour. “Our numbers are dwindling, and it is at times like these when that is seen all too clearly.”

  They paused in the hallway outside the great hall, turning to face each other. Her lips were pursed, face lined with thoughts he couldn’t read. She used to be so open to him. He used to know her as well as he knew himself. But those days were gone. She, too, was a stranger to him. “Something needs to be done.”

  He regarded her, answering as neutrally as he could. “Agreed. Something must be done.” He knew, however, that their opinions on the matter differed greatly. And that was an argument he was not willing to have again. Not here. Not now. He bowed gracefully. “If you’ll excuse me, my dear. I have matters that need attending to.”

  Her smile was wry and her voice amused, the pleasant sound of her voice clipped and cold at the edges. “Don’t you always.”

  They went their separate ways, and it wasn’t until he could no longer feel her oppressive aura pressing against his that he felt like he could finally breathe again. Truth be told, Lyphnia was right. And he hated that she was right.

  It had been three days, and he had yet to see the young omega dragon he had left with the weretigers. They should be arriving today, which meant the dragon would have to make his appearance at the castle first and foremost. But Arulean found himself thinking of the stubborn fire in those amber eyes, the way he didn’t quake under the pressure of Arulean’s aura, and he found himself wondering if the omega would even come to the castle at all.

  But no, he had to. The young tiger was still here, in the infirmary.

  Arulean found himself pausing at a hall juncture. It was a rare enough thing that he surprised himself. He’d lived in this castle for centuries. He had helped to plan and build it. He knew these halls like the back of his hand. He walked through them with purpose. He always knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there, steps never faltering or stopping in their journey. And yet here he paused, here his feet read his mind before even he did, sensing his hesitation. He never second-guessed his destination, yet now, he was.

  His eyes drifted down a hallway. The infirmary was in that direction. He knew the young tiger would survive the fever. Arulean had specifically asked to be kept informed of his condition. He hadn’t, however, visited since dropping him off three days ago. He idly wondered if he should. Regge, he remembered. Regge was his name. Yet, he still didn’t know the name of the dragon shifter who had bullied him out of the sky to ask for a favor.

  If we don’t look after those weaker than us, then what good are we?

  The words still remained with him, repeating in his mind like a mantra, intruding whenever his mind went quiet, haunting him when he tried to sleep, to focus. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he was eager to meet the young dragon again. It was a strange thing. He hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation or excitement in years. Anticipation was always soured by dread or apprehension, never light-hearted and almost giddy with an innocent interest. It made him feel young again, and that was an odd feeling.

  He hadn’t even gotten the dragon’s name. And while he looked familiar, as almost all dragon kin did at this point, he couldn’t put a name to the omega’s face. He’d met so many dragons throughout his long life. It was hard to keep track of who was alive and who had died. And this omega was younger than most. Arulean doubted he had fought in the wars. He couldn’t shake the eerie familiarity that niggled at the edges of his mind, but out of his reach. He felt haunted by the fire in those gorgeous amber eyes, by the determined lines of his face, by the shadow of a smile that he had managed to glimpse. The subtleties of his scent ghosting through his memory added to the sensation that he was missing something. His scent was so subtle that Arulean had at first mistaken him for a beta.

  Needless to say, there were many things about the young dragon that intr
igued Arulean, and he was eager to meet him again under proper circumstances. He wanted to see him, to know what kind of man would talk to him with blatant disrespect, without fear, and leave him with words that haunted him for days after their meeting. Words that made him question himself. Words that made his steps pause in the halls he had known for centuries.

  He wanted to know who he was so the mystery could be put to rest. Perhaps then he could move on to more important matters.

  He continued toward the stairs and climbed up to his study.

  Focus, he found, was hard to come by. The castle and the valley were anything but peaceful. If the flashing of dragon auras everywhere wasn’t distracting enough, it was the sound of constant movement throughout the castle. Even the village in the valley below buzzed with energy.

  He stared at his ledgers and papers and journals, tapping the tip of his quill against the worn wood of his desk. His chin rested in his palm, eyes turned toward the open doors and fluttering curtains. Sighing, he gave into temptation and stood, striding out onto the balcony. He rested his hands on the smooth stone of the railing, letting his gaze sweep out across the valley. It had once been just a small village beneath their castle, and had rapidly grown throughout the centuries as more and more shifters migrated to them, hoping to live safely beneath the dragons’ watchful gaze and away from humans.

  If we don’t look after those weaker than us, then what good are we?

  Perhaps he had already been abiding by that philosophy without realizing it. He had always had a soft spot for shifters, but he had always seen the lesser ones as just that: lesser. They were nothing compared to his own kind, and regarded them as barely more than humans. Still, they were respectful and bowed to him, so he let them stay. Dragons were prone to pride and vanity. He was no different. Having a village of worshippers on his front doorstep he had seemed like god. As the war went on and the Purge worsened, more and more filtered in, looking for a haven. He had let them in, despite Lyphnia’s sneers and disdainful looks.

  Without realizing it, he had created a safe haven for shifters of all breeds.

  His fingers tapped the stone, eyes surging upward and searching the horizon. He spotted a few scales reflecting the late afternoon sun, but they were all dragons who had already arrived. He had committed each of them to memory: faces, names, auras, scales. Each of them was catalogued in his mind and in a book in his study. A list of the rare, the magnificent, the dying. Each name should be a reason to rejoice, but instead all he could think of was how a thousand years ago, there would have been too many to remember them all.

  Something had to be done.

  A knock at his study doors brought him out of his thoughts. He half-turned as the heavy oaken doors were hesitantly pushed open and a servant poked her head in. A wolf, by the scent of her. She searched the study, eyes wary. “My lord?”

  “Here.” He said, voice loud enough to carry.

  She jumped, eyes finding him before lowering respectfully. She stepped fully into the room, curtseying before clasping her hands in front of her. “The queen has requested your presence.”

  He raised an eyebrow, face otherwise unmoving. “Has she now?” He asked dryly. The maid blanched, and he sighed inwardly. When he spoke again, he softened his tone. The sharpness hadn’t been for her, but for his mate. She was merely a messenger. “What does the queen need me for?” It was rare for her to summon him at all. When she did, she made sure to let him know she wanted him to go to her. She never sought him out herself unless she was particularly impatient.

  “I believe the queen’s brother has arrived. The one escorting the Great Mother’s ashes.”

  Arulean felt his brows pinch together just a fraction. “I did not feel the presence of a new dragon entering the valley.” He would have felt him. A dragon’s aura was stronger in their beast form. He would have felt him as he flew over the mountains, a new speck in the rainbow collage of draconic presences in the valley.

  The maid fidgeted, eyes darting to him and then down to the floor. “I only know what the queen told me ...”

  He sighed. Of course, the woman wouldn’t have answers for him. “Thank you. Do you know where I might find the queen?”

  The maid seemed to fidget just a little more. When she spoke, her words were chosen carefully. “When I left her, the queen was in the entry hall...”

  He sighed again.. “She just said that I would find her, did she not?” The maid nodded. “I suppose I should do that. Thank you.” He waved a hand to dismiss her, and she curtseyed again before slipping out the door.

  He heaved a heavy sigh and strode back to his desk, closing his books and journals and putting his quill away. He carried out each action slowly, with extreme care and precision, and when he headed for the door, each step was slow and deliberate. If Lyphnia wanted to play a power game in making him find her, then he would do the same and make her wait.

  His study was on one of the upper floors of the castle, and he headed for the grand staircase that led down through the heart of the building. Each step was careful and slow, hands clasped behind his back, chin held high. He walked as if he was out for a stroll without a care in the world, and not as though he was looking for his mate.

  While he walked, he mentally searched for her. She wasn’t hard to find. Her aura was as bright and red and fiery as her scales, as dark and writhing as the red depths of her eyes. She burned brightly, a comet moving throughout the castle and the valley at all hours of the day. He knew his own was like a cloud, a void, smoke, a shadow, oppressive and dark. Fire and ice. Two opposing forces that ruled the valley and held power above dragons. Two clashing forces that were at, what felt like an eternal stalemate.

  Any dragon would be able to find either of them easily, just as he found Lyphnia. She was walking along one of the halls on the lower levels of the castle, not too far from the great hall. There was a small aura that burned dimly beside hers, but it was easily overpowered and hidden by her own. He had no doubt that was her brother.

  As a child of the Great Mother, Lyphnia had many siblings. She was not the oldest nor the youngest by far, but was perhaps the strongest and the most well-known. She took after her mother in that way. Most of her siblings, however, were no longer alive. Many of them had sided with her during the wars and the Purge, and, as such, she led them to their untimely doom. He would be foolish to believe none of them were left. The Great Mother had continued to give birth long after the Purge, but there must be something special about this one. From what Arulean had gathered, he was the only child present at the time of their Mother’s passing, hence he was tasked with carrying her ashes to the burial chamber. A heavy but important responsibility that no one took lightly, which made it even stranger that Arulean hadn’t felt the dragon’s presence as the latter entered the valley.

  For a moment, he entertained the idea that the dragon might be a submissive one, with a faint aura that was easily hidden by those around him, much like he was by Lyphnia now. And then with a dry humored scoff, Arulean dismissed the idea. If he was indeed a child of the Great Mother and a brother to Lyphnia, Arulean had no reason to believe he would be submissive. Their line had a fire in them that kept them pushing forward, for better or worse.

  As with most of dragon-kind, he couldn’t remember most of Lyphnia’s siblings. He remembered some of them, but most were gone. And of the ones whom he knew were alive, he couldn’t think of one that would have been there at the time of their mother’s death. They were all far too stubborn and independent to stay around each other for long.

  He wasn’t sure what to expect from this brother, but he steeled himself for the worst. If he was anything like Lyphnia, which they tended to be, then Arulean would have his hands full. She didn’t need another hot-headed dragon in her corner. There were plenty already.

  He steered his path to intercept them, leisurely strolling down the intricate and well decorated halls of his home. He heard her voice before he saw them. It wasn’t the cold, biting tone
she used with him, but it wasn’t warm and inviting either. It was her queenly voice with a touch of familiarity as she told her brother about the castle and the things they passed: paintings, sculptures, rugs, tapestries. There wasn’t any response, but he knew she didn’t need one.

  He braced himself, locking his expression carefully neutral as he rounded a corner and into view.

  “Ah, Arulean! There you are,” she said, gesturing to him and speaking as if they had been looking for him, which they hadn’t, or waiting on him, which was likely. Her smile was fixed in place, a smile she knew how to craft and make look genuine. “My dear, come say hello to our newest guest.” She waved him forward, but he didn’t pick up his pace, only stopping when they were several feet away. He held her gaze, letting her silently know that he was displeased with her method of summoning him. If anything, her smile curled more widely.

  “This is my younger brother, Rajiah Bronze.”

  Arulean’s gaze slid to the young man, and his breath caught in his throat.

  He was shorter than Lyphnia, but not by much. With his lithe build, he had a body humans might mistake for weak. But Arulean knew better. He knew the strength dragons possessed. He could see it in the finely defined muscles of his exposed forearms, in the way he held himself. His skin was light brown, warm and inviting. His hair was a thick mass of dark waves that brushed his shoulders, tucked behind his ears. He was dressed simply: a tunic that wrapped around his torso with short sleeves, a scarf-like strip of cloth wrapped around his waist, and somewhat loose pants tucked into the tops of his boots. The colors were all in browns and dark reds. His wrists were adorned with thick gold bands and bracelets, matching those around his slender neck.

  His most striking feature, however, was his eyes. Dark amber blazing with a fire from within, meeting his steadily, amusement dancing in their depths. The corners of his full lips were curved up just slightly, completing the look of mischief that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.