by Noah Harris
Moments later, he felt his arms slip from the tree. In a gust he was carried off, receiving a crushing blow to his stomach. His eyes opened vacantly and he looked around. Down below were the tops of trees swaying in the winds. The tree he had held rose from its roots and rocketed towards the horizon. He was at least fifty feet in the air, watching himself being carted off in a moment of weakness by the bold and uncaring winds. Barry felt himself being pulled higher and higher. He clamped his eyes tightly trying to prepare himself for the end. He thought of his parents back home. Soon, their assumption that he was dead wouldn’t be wrong. He thought of his friends and all the laughs they had together. He thought about Xanathen and wondered how and if, he would make it through all of this. He wished the best for him and his people on this island, thankful for his friendship, though it had been short lived. His eyes were welded shut and he braced for a sudden drop. This was the end for him, and nothing but cold darkness waited.
Chapter 4
The hostile winds became more muffled the higher he felt himself being carried, until eventually he felt nothing blowing against him. Thunder still crashed but it didn’t surround him in the air, like it did before. With the winds no longer blowing against his face, and sensing a curious new footing beneath him, he gave a sigh of relief as he opened his eyes.
His eyes weren’t adjusted to the darkness that surrounded him yet. He squinted and blinked, but it still only gave him varying shades of blackness. His sight had failed him, useless for now, so he stretched out his hands, desperately trying not to panic and to feel his surroundings in an attempt to get some clue as to where he was and what was happening. The floor beneath him was hard and smooth, though a little damp from Barry’s drenched body. His hands continued to feel blindly around, until he found walls that were as hard as the floor, but jagged and coarse. He would guess that it was stone, but he hummed with surprise as he felt that the stone around him was warm. He figured out that he had somehow found himself deep in a cave, one that was dry and warm.
Weird. All the other caves I found here were damp, he thought to himself as he let the wall guide him. Could be a different location though. How’d I even get here anyway? I remember being pulled from the tree. Could I really have been blown here? Musta been, I can’t think of anything else! Seems way too much of a coincidence, though. How could the winds land me in a cave? Especially since there weren’t any near camp. This is weird. This whole island is weird.
His footsteps echoed off the hard stone floor of the cave. Even as he wandered in the inky darkness he walked surely and with confidence. As he continued to explore, his hand sliding against the wall, he could see more distinct shapes in the darkness just around a bend. The howls of the wind had softened, but their presence was still there. The torrent of rain was as harsh as before and it found its way into the mouth of the cave. Still the middle of the night, the darkness combined with the heavy storm clouds, blocking out most of the light. There was a bit of illumination around the mouth of the cave. Instead of being totally black, now he could make out blacks, dark blues, and grays. He jogged to the entrance until his foot went through the ground and his body lurched forward into nothing. Below him he could see the canopies of trees that had to be some distance beneath him, swaying in the winds of the storm. Quickly rocking backwards, he launched himself onto his butt before he went tumbling headfirst down the rocky mountainside. His heart raced as he sat and recovered, preparing to stand up again.
The world around him was now so small in the distance. Even in the gripping darkness of the stormy night he could look out at the entire island from where he stood. The ocean waters crashed and churned with the winds, reaching past the shore and nearly into the grassy forest. He swallowed a lump as he realized that he was on the tallest peak of the island, watching the storm crash through it, unable to stop a thing. He stepped back into the cave, his heart still racing from his near-death experience, willing to accept the blindness of the dark if it meant his safety.
At his feet, he stumbled onto a pile of sticks and stones. With the bit of light, he was now able to see them. He smiled as he found the wood was still dry and proceeded to strike the rocks until he could start a fire. Barry beamed with triumph as he pocketed the stones and held his new torch out, lighting his way. With curious energy driving him, and a temporary source of light flickering in front of him, he pushed himself to explore further back into the cave, stopping occasionally to use one of the stones to mark the wall with a small arrow, pointing in the direction he came from.
With the light of the torch illuminating the cave, Barry’s steps settled down to a gentle stroll. His eyes scanned over the walls of the cave with a sense of wonder. His earlier feeling of terror had slowly receded to a peaceful, yet determined, curiosity as he looked over the walls and floor. He could see there were no stalagmites, no rock formations of any kind actually. As rough as the walls of the cave were, they seemed almost too bare, absent of everything he would expect to find.
His hand continued to glide against the rocky surface as he investigated, until he came to a stop. His eyes were fixated on the wall like before, but he stood completely still as he stared. The wall was a little smoother than before, but on top of the pits, cracks and graduated grey tones of the stone, was paint. He took a step back to study the whole thing. From where he now stood he could tell it was a mural. With the limited light of the torch he couldn’t see it in its entirety. Instead, he had to hold out his torch and continue to walk forward and look at it piece by piece.
The painting was brightly colored with a vivid border of red and blue stripes, surrounded by green spots. Soft interlocking swirls and angular lines made up the shapes in the mural. People and things were depicted using simple shapes of various boldly coloured patterns. It was not just a picture, it seemed like a whole story was sprawled across the wall.
Unfortunately, I was never really into comics. He thought with a snicker. The mural started with a cluster of people, all dressed in simple tribal outfits. Though their faces were non-existent, it was easy to tell it was a time of grief as their feet were surrounded by thin brown lines of some sort. His guess was that it was a great drought of some kind or a sickness among the wildlife. In either case, the way the people were depicted—holding their stomachs and lying on the ground, it looked as if they were starving. The people then sat on their knees and looked up towards the sky, some with their arms extended wide.
Then the painting stopped, or at least became less interesting. Larger than any part of the mural, even bigger than Barry himself, was a great big glimmering design. Hundreds of small sapphires were arranged on the wall. On closer inspection, it was plain to see they weren’t on the wall, small holes had been carved to hold each individual little gem. While individually they were all no bigger than the size of a fingernail, from a few steps back they all came together to form a dazzling display. They depicted a large dragon in mid-flight, the head turned in profile to display an elegant neck and jagged maw. The wings, made of mother of pearl, fanned out wide into a crescent. Webbing, like the fin on a marlin, spread from the top of the head and down the neck, adorned with more mother of pearl. Barry stopped in awe to admire the centrepiece of the mural. The dragon reflected the firelight and sparkled…almost with nobility.
The dragon seemed to appear before the starving people, Barry had barely noticed them since they were so small in size compared to the sheer scale of the dragon. They seemed to grovel before the dragon, which, in the next scene was depicted on a large cliff overlooking everything on the island that once was painted with browns, oranges, and greys, but now was filled with lush and vibrant shades of green.
Huh. Maybe these people considered dragons to be good luck or something? His thoughts were racing as he continued on down the mural, once again trying to make sense of everything in this strange place. The mural went on to depict what seemed like daily life for the community. There was the dragon, apparently teaching the people new skills, such as carving a
nd building. There were several depictions of the dragon fighting another dragon—this one of a goldish hue—bright red streaks of paint depicting blood spewing from both big necks as they fought. A dragon flew across the sky with a trail of stars streaming from its wings, as another left a plume of swirling grey clouds that spread across the island. A large greyish-blue dragon sat with many beacons of fire, surrounded by both men and women holding onto the dragon in an almost intimate manner. The way they had been painted looked as if the people were on their hands and knees, or in other more intimate positions. He shook his head dismissing it as a cultural thing that he would never understand, or maybe it was just that he’d been alone on the island far too long and was imagining the intimacy.
Multiple dragons and people shared the painting space, but now some of the people were painted the same color as the dragon. Hm, artistic liberties perhaps? he wondered. They all stood in harmony side by side with flourishing plants and a fuller cast of people than before.
The mural scrolled back to the border, the story apparently finished. Barry looked over it several times, but his eye continued to come back to the dragon made of precious stones. Something about it inspired so many things inside him. It gave him a feeling of serenity and hope, but also just a bit of fear. The walls at this point were unnaturally smooth, except for small valleys and dips in the stone, forming intricate patterns. Pillars of stone sprouted from the ground and into the tall ceiling, all with the same intricate dips and carvings as on the walls. Though the flame from his torch could only provide so much light, he could tell this was much more than just a cave. It must have been carved and smoothed into something like this. He struggled to think of a word to call it. He could guess and call it a temple, assuming this was a holy place for the island people.
Now completely enraptured by the mystery of this dark place, he had to venture further. He knew as he investigated, he would have either more questions, more answers, or some kind of closure, an ending of sorts. The fire crackled in his hand as it ate away the piece of wood. It had grown smaller and was sure to fade out soon, so Barry moved quickly ahead with his hand still against the wall, racing to find out if he would manage to see the rest of this sanctuary.
The walls were smooth and warm as he speedily traced them with his fingertips, but he came to a halt as the texture changed once more. It was still smooth, but sleeker than before. He looked at his hand as it glossed over a new type of wall. It gleamed in the firelight, almost like mirrors, causing him to cover his eyes. Instead of small dips and carvings, it now looked almost like fish scales.
The fire fizzled out in a final spiral of smoke, leaving Barry in the dark. He continued to walk slowly along the new wall, letting his hands feel the way. Small bellows of wind rhythmically filled the air. It would flow one second, pause, then flow again. His fingers danced along gingerly. His hand began to tremble as he felt the wall begin to pulse and twitch. It pulled away from him in a blink and Barry found himself staring at a bright golden reflection. He flinched and jolted back feeling all the colour drain from his body as he stared at an enormous eye. His body shook but his feet were paralyzed with fear. All at once the eye blinked and the room seemed to both shake and illuminate. The walls began to glow from the crevices carved into them with soft gentle blue lines of light now wrapped around the pillars and walls. The room was aglow with the blue light and Barry could see the entirety of the creature staring down at him.
A dragon with slate colored scales rose up from its curled body, its powerful gaze still locked on Barry. The glimmering eyes of gold were held high up to the ceiling by the sharp, angular face. A long snout sloped down and curved back up like the waves of the ocean. The edges of its face were ribbed, almost corrugated and sharp. Transparent ridges twisted from the head and down the neck, upright as if on full alert. Huge claws dug into the stone floor, leaving shavings and crumbling bits of rock. The dragon bared its rows of sharp teeth and glowered, letting out a rumbling roar as smoke poured from its nostrils. Barry froze in terror, unable to move away from the colossal dragon that examined him. He slowly backed up, until he hit a pillar, preventing him from moving any further. He fused with the pillar, gripping it with his fingers, knowing damn well it couldn’t protect him.
The dragon rose to its feet and slowly stepped forwards. The neck slinked about as the head closed in on Barry. He gritted his teeth and tried to back further into the pillar until he felt the dragon’s warm breath pouring down on him. Breathing heavily as he closed his eyes, he could feel the dragon’s snout move in closer until they were only inches apart. He opened one eye to find himself trapped between the stone pillar and the monster. His chest heaved as he looked straight at the dragon and its strong, angular face. The dragon only sat still, pulling its face back away.
Barry breathed for a moment, his teeth still chattering from fright and his eyes still locked on the dragon. It didn’t lunge towards him any further or bare the large white teeth. Instead it seemed content to look down on Barry with a patient look in its eyes. Barry calmed down, as much as he possibly could, as he looked over the dragon with trepidation. His eyes got caught in the large orbs of flickering gold that looked down at him with an air of disappointment. He examined the glossy fins that ran down the dark gray of the neck and body.
Barry’s eyebrows rose as he turned to the dragon. He swallowed and took a deep breath.
“X-Xanathen?”
The dragon let out another rumbling roar that shook the floor and possibly its own stomach from the sound of it. Barry thought it sounded more like a soft sigh than an intimidating roar. The large head nodded and replied with a familiar, albeit louder, voice, “I wasn’t expecting you to come this far into the cavern.”
“Y-You’re a—you’re a d-d-dragon!” Barry squeaked. “N-No, it’s gotta be a trick. Some island...uh...some island thing! You got me! Ha ha! Ha! Ah...Ha...”
This couldn’t be real. While Barry was no expert in biology or animals, at least not in anything beyond hunting birds back home, he knew dragons weren’t real. They were just fairy tales, they were not real. They never had been, they weren’t even like dinosaurs—at least they had really existed once. No…dragons were completely made up by somebody’s imagination. His mind raced for any bullshit reason that could make the fact that a huge dragon was staring him down seem at all plausible. All an elaborate joke, maybe? The boys from the Coast Guard all got together and staged the un-funniest practical joke ever. Or, maybe it was just a heat induced dream. This was the part where he’d wake up. The more he stared at the dragon, the less he was convinced it was a dream.
“R-Really. This is a...dragons aren’t...” Barry stumbled over his words.
“I see this is a quite a shock for you,” Xanathen replied, with a tone of superior contempt, as if Barry was a maître d’ who had pushed back his dinner reservations or something.
“Dragons aren’t real!”
“I wasn’t planning on having this conversation so soo—”
“Dragons are not real!”
Xanathen’s eyelids lowered as he looked at Barry, the skin around his mouth folding itself into a scowl.
“Right then. I see you’re having a breakdown of sorts—”
“You’re gonna eat me!” Barry interrupted in a panic.
Barry felt a huge talon press against his lips, momentarily silencing him. “I’m not going to eat you! Now stop interrupting. We’ll talk this over in the morning, when your trembling has stopped. Go to sleep now.”
Xanathen pulled his claw away from Barry’s lips and strode back over to the pile of soft grass he had been lying on. He curled up into himself, placing his head on the ground and wrapping his long tail around him. Barry stood stunned, his brain continuing to short circuit. He tried to wrap his mind around all the logical explanations for this, but came up empty handed. This was far too elaborate for a ruse, and was going on way too long for a dream. He had felt the rough edges of the scales, and the heat of Xanathen’s breath.
Something like that couldn’t just be a dream. He slumped against the pillar and thought of all the possibilities for hours until, exhausted, he finally fell asleep on the stone floor.
That night he dreamed he was in Xanathen’s arms and pressed up against his smooth body. The dark islander leaned his face closer into Barry’s and teased his throat with gentle nibbling. Warm tingling sensations ran down Barry’s neck straight to his crotch as he melted under Xanathen’s touch. He found himself lying back and stretching his limbs, presenting his stomach like an act of submission. Barry closed his eyes with anticipation. Xanathen looked down on him with a dominant smirk and bent down to the bottom of his feet. Barry moaned as he felt his lover begin to kiss and suck at his ankles, pulling away and moving back in, a little higher each time, until he had licked and kissed his way up to his waist. Barry opened his eyes gleefully, only to shriek in horror as his beautiful lover was gone, along with the entire lower half of his body. In his place was the powerful stare of the dragon, looking down hungrily at Barry who flailed and screamed.
Barry awoke the next day startled and confused. He felt his blood flowing rapidly in his veins. That was definitely just a dream. All of it, just a crazy weird dream. He rolled his head up from his shoulders to see the dragon sitting comfortably across from him, making the gargantuan room seem a third of the size that it really was. He blinked in confusion. Oh. Right. Real life has gotten just as crazy as my nightmares.
“Ah. Good afternoon,” Xanathen greeted, his voice sounding as noble as ever, despite the awkward tension in the air. “Sleep well?”
“Uh...Y-Yeah. Yeah,” Barry nodded, finding a lump in his throat.