The First Story

by C Bradley Owens

  Abend smiled, remembering all the times Carlotta had gotten flustered and resorted to school notes for help; however, he tried to recall anything he learned about taming a dragon, and he remembered…nothing. Dragons were wild, vicious, powerful creatures, which he remembered being taught very well. He also remembered that they were mostly found in the Northern Wilds now, being nearly wiped out from the other regions due to their tendency to eat livestock, a massive amount of livestock. But taming them? He had no idea.

  Eliza was obviously racking her memory for clues to passing, or even surviving, the exam. She rocked back and forth on her toes, her arms folded and her fingers tapping on her forearms far too fast to be a melody. Her brow was deeply furrowed, and her eyes were glistening.

  Simon was smug, as smug as Abend had ever seen him. He had known about the exam beforehand, so it stood to reason he had been working on a solution. He stood with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out. It was fortunate that he was called first. He strode forth, head high, turning just for a moment to wink at the others before he disappeared beyond the curtain.

  The sounds that emanated from the arena proved the theory that the exam involved dragons. The hissing sent Eliza’s tapping fingers to her ears. The roars nearly caused Carlotta to drop her notebook. The frantic screams from Simon, which he could almost make out as a spell, sent shivers up Abend’s spine. If Simon, the only one who had specifically prepared for dragons, was failing, then what hope did the rest of them have?

  The sounds stopped suddenly, and the curtain fluttered open. One of the professors, one Abend remembered vaguely from first year, called for the next student. Carlotta tucked her notebook back inside her sleeve and stepped forward. She took a deep breath and plunged through the curtain.

  Similarly, hissing, roars, and screams—different from Simon’s and more familiar—filled the arena for a time, and just as before, they came to an abrupt halt. The curtain opened, and Professor Camion, whom Abend finally remembered—but still nothing about taming dragons—called for the next student.

  Eliza’s shaking legs threatened to fail her, but to Abend’s amazement, she remained upright as she shuffled through the curtain.

  “Professor?” Abend asked before the curtain closed. “How did the others do?”

  “No one has passed yet.” Professor Camion shook his head slowly as the curtain plunged Abend into seclusion.

  “No one?” he whispered to the empty space as the hissing began. He thought back to what he had heard. Simon had shouted spells, and he remembered some of the words. They were domination spells, used to bring foes to their knees. It was an obvious tactic but completely useless against dragons. The wildness of dragons completely outmatched any attempts at domination.

  The roars began, and he thought about Carlotta’s turn. She had been shouting too, but the words were different. Abend remembered them well. Calming spells. The entire school practiced calming spells whenever there was a stressful event, most usually during sports. But dragons were vicious by nature, and a calming spell enhanced the innate calm of the subject. If there was nothing to calm, then the spell would be useless.

  Eliza screamed, but there were no discernible words in the sound. It was simply blind, unthinking panic. Then all sounds stopped. Abend took a breath and forced himself to recite a calming spell. Domination didn’t work, he thought. Calming didn’t work, and blind panic, of course, wouldn’t work. What was left? How do you tame a creature that can’t be calmed or dominated?

  The curtain fluttered open. “Are you ready?” Professor Camion’s stressing the word “you” so forcefully told him everything he needed to know about Eliza’s exam results.

  Abend nodded and stepped through the curtain. The arena was filled with spectators, all sitting quietly so as not to disturb the enormous black dragon chained near the center. Abend gasped at the sheer enormity of the creature. Two such creatures would be uncomfortable in the massive arena, and three would not fit. Why did it need to be so big? he thought. Wouldn’t a smaller dragon be just as effective? Of course, it’s an Ebonweisse, which is the largest breed of dragon alive today. A nice, petite Snowweiner would have… scared him just as much.

  “Focus, Abend,” he muttered as the dragon turned it glowing red eyes toward him. It shuffled to its feet and hissed.

  “A warning. The hissing was a warning.” Abend admitted that it was an effective warning, and had this been anything other than a final exam, he would have been hastily running in the opposite direction. Instead, he stood his ground as the giant beast bent its head and roared.

  The force of the air from the dragon’s throat pushed against Abend, threatening to upturn him completely. He dug his feet in and resisted the wind. “Posturing,” he noted. The warning hadn’t worked, so the creature was now using the intimidation game. Another effective ploy that would have worked in any other situation.

  The dragon dipped its head again. Its glowering eyes never straying from Abend. It roared again, louder, more forcefully. “Another warning.” Abend watched the animal shuffle back and forth on its humongous paws. It looked, for all the world, like a dragon version of Carlotta waiting for the exam. It was nervous.

  The red eyes, so affixed to Abend, were suddenly shifting back and forth in a frantic circling motion. Eliza’s eyes did that whenever she stared at her notebook, a clear sign of her anxiety.

  Abend stepped forward; the dragon roared. Abend bent his head as the dragon had done, and he bent his legs, bowing low. The dragon hissed. Abend lowered himself to his hands and knees, shifting back and forth on one then the other, still bowing his head and lifting his eyes to the dragon. The dragon huffed and lowered its head a bit more.

  Abend shuffled forward on his knees until his head met the head of the dragon. The hissing and roaring became a coo of a sort, like a contented bird’s song. Abend carefully lifted his hand and placed it on the dragon’s scales, just below one of its craggy horns. The dragon cooed louder. Abed stood, and the dragon gently nuzzled him with its steaming snout. Abend hugged the creature’s head as best he could given its size. The dragon returned to its nap as the crowd muttered.

  Later, in the auditorium, as the awards ceremony began, Abend was rejoined by the other candidates, all looking worse for wear. Simon had the distinct look of a chastised child, Carlotta appeared like a wounded dog, and Eliza was just a bundle of jittering nerves. Abend stood next to them, his mind filled with the warm embrace of the dragon.

  Chapter 75

  A New Reality

  “Abend was male in that story,” t he Sister of Monsters remarked.

  Baba Vedma had crossed her arms in front of her, and her face twisted in thought. The Puppeteer scratched his wooden head, the hollow tapping sound he produced like a metronome. The Toy Peddler sat on a barrel near the rails of the deck, his arm propped on his knee, his hand covering his mouth. Frau Iver, as always, was indistinct.

  “Yes.” The Origamist nodded. “Do you understand now?”

  The Council of Aspects turned their eyes to Abend, who was shifting back and forth on her feet, her hands clutching the front of her shirt, violently twisting the fabric. Flux stepped nearer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder against the onslaught of attention.

  “Why?” The Sister of Monsters’ viscous stare never wavered from Abend.

  “Change!” The Angler’s exclamation, a sudden realization amid the confusion, cut through the tension.

  “Exactly!” the Keeper of Ways broke in. “Don’t you see? Creativity has changed. We need to change with it or—”

  “No!” Baba Vedma’s eyes flashed with renewed electricity. “It’s a trick! They are trying to distract us, to manipulate us, to—”

  “Save you.” The Origamist’s voice was firm, powerful, and compassionate. “The Council is filled with outdated storylines.” He raised his hand in submission before Baba Vedma could rage more. “You know it to be true.”

  “We were trying to update your stories to better fi
t the new reality.” The Keeper of Ways pointed to the unfurled map on the scaling table. There were so many blue dots now that the map was nearly no other color.

  “Those are new Aspects?” The Sister of Monsters watched the Keeper of Ways nod out of the corner of her bulbous eye. “How many?”

  “Too many,” the Origamist sighed wearily. “And still there are more every moment.”

  “What’s causing this?” The Puppeteer struggled to see the map.

  “The Constraints have been loosened.” The Origamist sounded like a teacher revealing a truth his students already knew.

  The Council of Aspects gathered slowly together near the rail where the Toy Peddler sat. The five of them huddled close until the Toy Peddler finally looked up, removed his hand from his mouth, and spoke. “He’s telling the truth.”

  “Yeah, we know.” The Puppeteer’s painted eyes stared at a space near the Toy Peddler but also near Frau Iver.

  “What do we do now?” The Toy Peddler stood and joined the circle.

  “Baba Vedma.” The Sister of Monsters continued to stare into the center of the circle as she spoke. “You are the eldest Aspect present, and you are now and forever a member of the Council of Aspects; we will follow your lead.”

  Baba Vedma opened her mouth, closed her mouth, sighed, opened her mouth again, sighed again, and closed her mouth. She stood in the circle, thankful that the others were looking blankly into the center. The wind blew, not chill, not comforting. The sea undulated beneath them, ebbing and flowing in one direction above all others. Baba Vedma gritted her teeth and slowly turned, heading for the scaling table.

  The Origamist met her, his arms folded, the Second Story tenderly lying on his open palm that rested on his forearm. The Angler stepped forward and produced the First Story. He held it in his slightly shaking hand. Abend and Flex stood together and back, awaiting their fate with as much grace and dignity they could muster.

  Chapter 76

  “That’s not it!” Matt slapped the notebook closed and leaned back against his dresser. The room was quiet once more. The images swirled in his head, the ideas crashed into each other, and his notions grew darker.

  This is the point where John would say something inspiring, he thought. He would ask a probing question or offer some sort of insight that Matt had not even noticed. It had all been John, all this time. John had been the impetus for the stories, for the illustrations, for…everything.

  “I can’t do this alone,” he said, his voice the epitome of certainty. “I need your help, John. I can’t save you by myself.”

  Save John? Was that what this was about? It was, wasn’t it? Matt wasn’t sure of anything anymore, except his own powerlessness, his own incompetence, his own complete lack of import.

  There was a shadow in his room. Matt looked into it, filling the corner, creeping toward the bed. Had it always been there? It was dark. Too dark? What was too dark? Did that even make sense when talking about a shadow? Could a shadow be too dark, unnaturally so?

  The shadow moved. Not a sudden or even a significant move, but it did move. Matt saw it. He saw it…deepen. The already-too-dark darkness deepened, becoming something more than darkness. Something massive lived in that darkness, marked by pinpricks of light, defined by expanse.

  Matt reached out to the darkness with tentative hands and an expectant heart. The darkness fluttered, and a new pinprick of light glinted.

  Chapter 77

  A New Story

  Abend waited until all the others had gone. His legs were shaking; his teeth chattered in the warm breeze. A shudder shook his entire torso, so he forced himself to breathe. One breath in, it would be all right. One breath out, it was just a meeting. One breath in, just an introduction. One breath out, nothing to worry about.

  The sun had set hours ago, but the city was still lit so brightly it was difficult to tell. The buildings jutted into the ebon sky, merging with cloud and mist before disappearing to distance. Beyond the rooftops of the tallest building, Abend knew, were the stars, the planets, the vast universe of…everything.

  It was there he longed to go. To the space beyond his world, to the world beyond his imaginings, to his destiny, which he knew awaited far away from the mundane, everyday life in the city.

  He remembered his childhood, rich in meager adventures, long quests through the forest, digging for treasure in the fields, battling the forces of evil that looked so much like the livestock. He smiled at the thought, but it was so long ago—before the Conglomeration took over all farm production, automated, and forced his family, just like every other family on this world, into the city for a last, slight, glimmer of hope.

  He would escape, and tonight would be the night.

  A buzz, similar but underneath the street lights and electrical grid, filled the alley where he stood, and soon, the alley was populated by one more being. Flex stepped from the interior of the what he knew to be the Ariel, a Stingray class support craft that had the best cloaking money could buy, which is why it looked as if Flex walked out of nowhere.

  Flex, the captain of the Dominica, a much larger and more impressive Tetra class Deep Space Frigate, the ship that would take him away from the city, stood impressively stern just a few feet from Abend. Flex would be his captain.

  “You Abend?” Flex’s voice was gruff but smooth, comforting, homey, or at least, that was Abend’s first impression. The Captain was tall, but not inordinately, solidly built but not stocky. Abend marveled at Flex’s features: not male, not female, but something completely both and neither, hair the color of seafoam, eyes like an early sunrise.

  “I…” Abend found that meeting his destiny was more than his voice could take. He paused and breathed. One breath in, one breath out. “I am Abend.”

  “We need to go now,” Flex said and jabbed an anxious thumb toward the front of the alley where the buildings opened into a mid-sized garden area. “The City Guard will be here soon.”

  Abend nodded and hurried forward, hands in front to avoid running into the invisible ship, moving slowly, very slowly, “Where do I—?”

  “Let’s go!” Flex shouted and pushed Abend forward just as a patrol craft floated into view between the buildings.

  Inside, the Ariel shone with the fulfillment of advanced technology. The walls glistened, slathered with nanotech migrators that constantly provided both energy and self-repair to the entire hull. The control panel, a pool of psycho-reactive gelatin, glimmered a cool blue-green that begged for a touch. Abend stumbled forward, jumping out of the way as Flex pushed past and flopped into the pilot’s seat.

  “Sit.” Flex nodded in the direction of a row of seats arrayed along the length of the port hull. Abend hurriedly sat and allowed the automated restraints to secure him in place.

  Flex swiveled toward the control panel and slid two elegant yet strong hands into the gel. The ship shook in response, and then the hull was no longer opaque. Abend let out a muffled chortle that sounded too much like a squeal.

  “Sorry,” Flex offered. “Should have warned you that the Ariel’s cloaking tech is extremely advanced.”

  “I’ve never…” Abend looked in every direction, seemingly at once. His eyes darted to and fro, watching the buildings sink all around him. Faster and faster the Ariel rose, darting between buildings, avoiding bridges and access ramps, flitting around hovercraft and patrols with the grace of a hummingbird feeding in a field of wildflowers.

  Abend’s memory turned back to the farm. The fields of green that turned rainbow in the spring, the birds, the air, the freedom—all gone now. Replaced by the cement prison that was the city. A patrol craft whipped close to the hull.

  “That was close!” Flex shouted. “Hey, kid, get up here!”

  “What?” Abend grabbed hold of the seat as the restraints retracted, and he was suddenly unfettered.

  “Up here!” Flex pointed to the co-pilot’s seat. “I need your eyes up here!”

  Abend took a deep breath and tried to stand on open a
ir. He plopped back into his seat. The buildings were whizzing by now, and there were fewer of them that reached this high. Open air was all around him. It was his fondest dream, his fantasy, to be free. To be engulfed in space, not cement, but the reality, this reality, was too much. Too much openness, too much air, too much— No! Abend silenced his mind. One breath in, one breath out, and he stood. There was hull under his feet. Obviously, there was hull. He stepped forward, his eyes transfixed on the copilot’s seat. He stumbled only once as the Ariel pitched aft to avoid a civilian craft; then he sat heavily in his seat.

  “Put your hands in,” Flex instructed. “I’ve set your panel for deep navigation. We get out of these buildings, we’ll need a safe plot.”

  Abend timidly touched the gelatin. Sensory information flooded him. He jerked back unintentionally but immediately missed the sensation. Forcefully, he plunged his hands in. He could see the universe ahead of him.

  Stars swirled a million miles away; planets orbited in oddly shaped circles; the universe heaved, up, down, in, and out as gently as a baby’s first breath. Abend saw it all. His awareness grew and stretched. More, he needed more. He allowed—no, he forced his mind to expand. Further, further, just a bit more. A bit more.

  “Focus kid!” Flex shouted as the Ariel pitched again.

  Abend fought against the desire to float endlessly in the vast openness and pulled his consciousness back to the task at hand. He saw the barrier grid surrounding the planet. He saw the patrols flitting in programmed harmony. He watched the dance of the opposition, and he saw the pattern easily. His mind worked with the Ariel, and soon, a course was plotted that would take him into the expanse.

  “Dang,” Flex remarked. “That was quick. You’re a natural, kid.”

  “Abend. My name is Abend.”

  “Well, Abend,”—Flex entered the newly plotted course into the control panel—”welcome to the rest of your life.”