Dragon Tears

by Nancy Segovia

  Patrik stared at the dragon. “You’re right. It’s like the voice is inside my heart or something.”

  “Yes, that is how it feels to me too,” the wizard said. He turned to Redwing who nodded.

  The boy shook his head still not understanding. “Who are you?”

  I am the one you call the dragon king, Skyhawk — the Creator.

  Both dragons knelt, Larkin kneeling on only one knee and holding his injured leg out in front of him.

  You are hurt, my son. I will heal you.

  A red, warm ray of light appeared in the darkness and moved slowly over Larkin’s leg. The dragon watched as it wrapped itself around his splint. He jumped as the splint fell aside, crashing to the floor. He flexed his knee and then bent it beside the other one. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said.

  The light moved on to Redwing’s side where her missing scales were just starting to reappear. She turned her head to watch, her yellow eyes spinning orange with astonishment as the scales quickly grew to full size.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  You are most welcome, daughter. You’re coming has been prophesized. The pure in heart and the pure in action will come seeking the help of the dragon king. You are here. Tell me what you wish of me.

  “The war. Please help us stop the war,” Patrik blurted out, too stunned to think before he spoke.

  Ah, the pure in action. The only one of my human children to have no magic. You are worried about this war? It is your coming I have been waiting for.

  Patrik’s knees wobbled and his legs felt as feeble as those of an infant. “You have been waiting for me?”

  Yes, since the beginning of time when Blackheart gave the humans magic it has been prophesized that one would be born without it. One who would therefore be pure in action. This one would bring about the end of Blackheart’s interference with the race of man.

  “What about the pure in heart?” the wizard ventured to ask, unable to control his curiosity any longer.

  My little dragon that eats no meat because he cannot bring himself to kill is the pure in heart whose coming was also foretold. Together, the pure in heart and the pure in action, will right what has gone wrong.

  They all looked at each other, no one knowing exactly what to say. Larkin’s green scales and skin had turned brown with embarrassment, and Patrik toed the dusty floor in a nervous flush of awkwardness.

  Magic user, your pockets are empty. How is it that you have not gathered precious stones for yourself?

  The wizard began to fidget, imagining invisible eyes peering into his pockets and belongings. “I gave them away,” he said at last, feeling the heat of humiliation creep up his neck.

  You are not greedy like others of your kind. Neither are your thoughts and actions spoiled by unkind thoughts about your dragon brothers. You are worthy.

  Redwing knew her turn was coming and hung her head, trying to make herself as small as possible.

  My little daughter, you have not let your mind be clouded with things of no consequence. You have looked beneath the surface and discovered what is truly important. You are a good friend. You are also worthy.

  Patrik couldn’t stand it any longer. He knew he was just an average boy, one without magic it was true, but average in every other way. “Just because I have no magic doesn’t make me pure in action,” he blurted out. “I make all kinds of mistakes and sometimes, I get into trouble just because I want to. Just ask the wizard.”

  “And I’m not perfect, either,” Larkin said. “I can’t flame, I can’t roar, and I still don’t have my take-offs and landings right. I always bump the ground with my behind when I land.”

  In their hearts, the travelers all heard what could have only been a chuckle.

  These are not the things that matter. These are things of no consequence. What matters is that the human boy has never learned to depend on magic as have all the others of his kind. And what matters is the heart of the dragon that loves all living things more than himself. You and your friends have proven yourselves worthy.

  “Sir, Dragon King, Creator,” Patrik said, “does this mean you will help us stop the war?”

  Yes, little ones, I will help you. Return the way you came to the entrance beyond the cave of the sky dragons, and I will meet you there.

  “But how will we know you?” Redwing asked.

  Again, the sound of a chuckle filled their minds.

  You will know.

  Chapter Twenty

  A million questions ran through their minds as they waited for the dragon king. Patrik couldn’t seem to ask them fast enough.

  “What is this prophecy, and how do I fit in? What does he mean that Redwing and Wizard Allard are worthy? How are we going to get back there in time to stop the war?”

  But no one had any answers. All Larkin and Redwing could tell him was what he already knew, and he didn’t know nearly enough.

  A huge cloud blocked the sun, and the ledge on which they stood was suddenly blanketed in darkness. From out of the gloom, an enormous dragon wing appeared, its scales made of the same crystal as the Singing Mountains. The wing extended so far into the shadow that they couldn’t see the body attached to it.

  I am here. Climb onto my wing and seat yourselves behind my neck. I will take you where you need to go.

  They stepped out onto the wing, testing each step to find that it was stronger than the crystal ledge they had waited on. They looked down and discovered it was wider than the chasm beneath them. They looked ahead and could see nothing but the shadowy outline of an immense body.

  After walking for about a quarter sunmark, Patrik realized that Rat was not with them. He turned and ran back to the ledge, where the gigantic cat sat hissing and snarling into the gloom. Patrik tugged on the nape of the animal’s neck but couldn’t budge her.

  “Wizard Allard, I need help. Rat won’t budge,” he hollered into the gloom.

  He heard the sound of running footsteps before he saw the wizard’s head appear out of the darkness. “Flaming cat! We ought to just leave her here,” Allard said, grabbing hold of the cat’s neck and pulling with all his might. But the cat didn’t budge.

  You need help, little children? sounded the voice.

  Patrik and the wizard, still not used to communicating this way, only nodded.

  A huge eyeball, taller than the tallest peak in the Singing Mountains, appeared out of the gloom. It focused its multi-faceted, whirling gaze on Rat. The cat sat mesmerized by the intensity of its stare. When it withdrew, Rat began to trot off down the wing.

  “Was that what I think it was?” Patrik whispered as he followed the cat.

  “A dragon’s eye? Yes, I believe so,” the wizard whispered back, too daunted to speak any louder.

  “Just how big is this dragon king?”

  “I think we’re all better off not knowing the answer to that,” Allard answered back in a low voice.

  It took them almost half a sunmark of steady walking to reach the dragon king’s body, where the scales were so large that even Redwing could fit her entire self beneath one of them.

  Little children, please hold on tight to my scales. The trip is not long, but it will be different.

  They sat huddled together and used the dragon king’s scale as a wind shield. Redwing and Larkin curled their claws around one of its edges while Patrik and Allard gripped the other side with their hands. A mighty gust of wind tore through the canyon as Skyhawk lifted away from the ledge. Free from his own shadow, his scales shimmered in the sunlight with a rainbow of colors, like crystals hung in a window.

  No one could speak as the dragon king’s beauty overwhelmed their senses. Even his breath, as it blew toward them, overcame them. It smelled of flowers, spices, and sweet-smelling herbs. But overshadowing everything was a feeling of well-being that none of them had ever experienced. They felt safe, contented, cared-for, and above all else, loved.

  Patrik felt the tears well up, and when he looked at the wizard, he saw that Alla
rd’s eyes were also glistening with moisture. Redwing and Larkin’s great yellow eyes were spinning brightly. To Patrik it seemed as if they were also blinking back tears. In those few heartbeats, all of them knew, without doubt, that Skyhawk really was the Creator, Dragon King, Lord, and Master of everything.

  We will travel now. Hold on tight.

  In less than a heartbeat, their senses shattered, stretched beyond the realms of reality. They saw what they heard, felt what they saw, and tasted what they felt. They felt empty and full at the same time, and time had no meaning. Patrik opened his mouth to scream but couldn’t tell if he was actually making any sounds. He was at the edge of his sanity, certain he would be lost forever in this void of overfilled, nonexistence when the sun reappeared. Within one heartbeat to the next, they had left behind the Singing Mountains and appeared above the Flowering Plains. Only the Flowering Plains flowered no more.

  They stared in stunned disbelief at the once fertile plains. Corpses lay stacked like firewood, and the rotting carcasses of dragons drew flies and carrion birds. But more staggering than the devastation to human and dragon, was the destruction of the land itself caused by the drain of the magic the humans wielded.

  Where once had bloomed every type of flower and plant only brittle stalks remained. Drained of their life energy, they crumbled and withered to dust beneath the feet of the charging armies. Even the rocks that dotted the plains were no more than melted slabs of stone.

  “How can they do this?” Patrik said in a shocked whisper.

  “Hatred has robbed them of their senses,” Allard replied. “This is even worse than I imagined.”

  Skyhawk’s immense shadow covered the land beneath them, but the battle continued. Bolts of wizards’ lightning were followed by gusts of dragon flame. Screams of pain and terror rent the air as the wounded fell and lay where they dropped. No one appeared to be making headway, each side looked equal in numbers, and neither side seemed to care about the damage they were doing to their world.

  STOP!

  The dragon king’s roar filled each heart and mind on the battlefield. Weapons dropped, wizards’ hands halted in mid-air, and dragon flame extinguished itself as surely as if it had been doused with water. Dragons and humans turned their gazes from each other to the sky. Dragons fell to their knees and humans trembled before the apparition over their heads.

  Only one man appeared unaffected by Skyhawk’s appearance. Blackwell. He strode through the crowded battlefield, his shoulders back, his head held high. He stepped over and around the wounded and the dying. Reaching the middle of the two armies, he screamed up to the sky. “Come down here and fight me if you dare.”

  Blackheart! I knew I’d find you here.

  Every living thing on the Flowering Plains heard the dragon king’s words, and for the first time since the battle began, the dragons backed away from the battle line. Their eyes whirled red with fear and they knelt even closer to the ground.

  Blackwell stood alone in the center of the battlefield, his face turned upward. “Why fight for these humans? They are nothing. Let them destroy themselves, Skyhawk,” he yelled.

  They are my children.

  “They are worthless. Your children are the dragon races. You should care for them and not these useless creatures. Let them fight and destroy themselves.”

  I cannot do that.

  The dragon king swooped low over the battlefield, selecting a place to land at its far end.

  Little ones, this is not your fight. This is my old enemy, and I must see to this matter myself. I will put you down safely behind the lines.

  The words, spoken only to the travelers, brought no comfort. As Skyhawk landed, allowing them to disembark, fear swallowed them. They watched, filled with a terror that paralyzed them, as the dragon king began to change. He seemed to shrink in upon himself, growing smaller and smaller, and as he did so his wings gave way to arms, and his tail and hindquarters to legs. His shining, crystal scales transformed into pale, white skin, and his pointed snout into a human head. His head ridges disappeared only to be replaced by a mane of shining blond hair. He wore white leggings and tunic, and a cape of shimmering crystal flowed from his shoulders.

  “Do not be afraid, little ones,” he said. “It is I, and I am here with you. I will not let harm come to you. But I must fight this enemy on his own terms and correct what once went wrong. Wait here for me, for I will return.”

  He strode off, his cape collecting and reflecting sunlight like a thousand crystals.

  “This isn’t good,” Larkin said, tearing his gaze away from Skyhawk’s departing back. “Blackheart is the one who gave magic to humans in the first place.”

  “I don’t like the way this is turning out,” Allard said.

  “Can’t we do something?” Patrik asked. “We can’t just wait here and let him fight our battles for us. We’ve got to do something.”

  “But what can we do?” Redwing asked. “Larkin, you still can’t flame, and Patrik, you still don’t have any magic.”

  Rat appeared to have made the decision for them, for she charged after the departing Skyhawk, seemingly intent on catching up with him. Wizard Allard, forgetting his fear, chased after her. Patrik, unable to let those he loved go into battle without him, didn’t stop to think. He bolted after them with Larkin and Redwing right beside him.

  They ran toward the battle line, their feet kicking up dust in the dry, dead plains. Wounded and dying magicians called out to them, but they had no time to stop and offer help. Several times, a magic user threatened the dragons, but was too frightened by Skyhawk’s appearance to carry through on the threat.

  They reached the clearing where Skyhawk and Blackwell stood, just as Rat charged out of the crowd. Her scream was filled with all the power and anger of a mountain prowler as she leapt, claws extended toward Blackheart’s face.

  “No, Rat,” Wizard Allard yelled, dashing after her, but he was too late. A bolt of lightning shot forth from Blackwell’s hands. Allard grabbed the huge cat by the tail, pulling her away from the blast. The lightning, already loosed, slammed into the wizard, tearing a huge hole in his chest.

  “Allard!” screamed Patrik. Forgetting the danger, he bolted toward his fallen master. Blackwell, raised his hands again, but a bolt from Skyhawk sent him reeling. Patrik reached Allard, and turned him over. “Heal him,” he begged Skyhawk. “You can do it.” His tears left streaks down his dusty face.

  “It’s too late, little one. His life spirit is already gone,” the dragon king said, his gaze never leaving Blackwell who was rising to his feet. “I am sorry.”

  “No!” the boy shouted as pain and white hot fury surged through him like the fires of the Flaming Mountains to the south. His agony propelled him to his feet and rage drove him forward. Head down he exploded from Skyhawk’s side, tears streaming down his face. “You killed him!” He screamed and launched himself across the clearing toward Blackheart.

  The dark dragon seeing the boy racing toward him, raised his hands, his black fingernails gleaming darkly in the sun. A smirk creased the corners of his mouth as he prepared his attack. His right arm shot forward and a thunderbolt of lightning shattered the ground in front of Patrik as if he were only toying with the boy.

  The hair on Patrik’s head frizzled with the heat, and the hair on the back of his neck and arms stood up straight. Skyhawk saw his opportunity and struck out again, his dragon’s magic hammering Blackheart to the ground. Patrik tackled the fallen wizard, striking out blindly with his fists.

  As lightly as if the boy weighed no more than a sack of feathers, Blackheart grabbed Patrik’s arms and flipped him over. Blackheart jumped to his feet and raising his arms prepared to strike. From the battle line, Larkin roared, a full-fledged dragon-cry, full of anger and desperation. With one downward sweep of his wings, the dragon took to the air, and swooped in low over his friend. Blackheart whirled, his robes whipping out behind him like bat wings as he set his sight on Larkin. Fire shot out from his hands, sla
mming into Larkin’s side. The little green dragon crumpled in mid-flight, plummeting to the earth.

  Redwing bellowed, and prepared to charge when Skyhawk commanded, “Stay back, little daughter.” He sent another bolt of lightning down on the evil dragon.

  Blackheart reeled under the assault, and Redwing rushed to Larkin’s side. She grabbed his tail in her teeth and pulled him out of the battle zone. As she did so, Patrik rose to his feet. Head down like a charging bull he rushed the evil wizard.

  This time Blackheart did not toy with the boy. He sent a shaft of lightning straight into the boy’s body. It jerked him backward like a puppet on a string, flinging him ten foot-lengths from the battle zone. Redwing rushed to his side, her unshed tears filling her whirling eyes.

  The evil magician turned to the dragon king. Undamaged by the attacks, he strode toward him, arrogance causing his boots to kick up dust with every step.

  “Skyhawk,” Blackheart shouted, “why fight for them? It is the dragons that were your first creation and the dragons that should rule the world. These humans are nothing. Let them kill themselves in battle and let the dragons rule as they were meant to.”

  “This battle will leave my world unfit for human or dragon,” Skyhawk said, raising his hands for another strike. “It must stop now.”

  Little children, leave this field of battle.

  Every mind, dragon and human alike, heard the command, and began fleeing the battlefield. Yet, not one left the field entirely. They moved almost three hundred foot-lengths to the rear, and then turned to watch.

  A ball of light enveloped Skyhawk as he left his human persona behind and transformed into the gigantic crystal dragon that was his true nature. A black shadow, darker than night, engulfed Blackheart as he transformed into an enormous black dragon.

  Even the humans were able to hear the gasp of shock that the watching dragons voiced as they recognized the wizard’s true nature. It was Blackheart, Skyhawk’s nemesis, and the one who had given humans magic thousands and thousands of seasons ago.

  With one upward thrust, the dragons were airborne. Skyhawk folded his wings and dived for the black dragon. When he was within striking distance, he extended his claws and raked them down Blackheart’s back. The dragon screamed in fury, flames bursting from their mouths. Skyhawk wheeled around to avoid them, but was too slow. Flames blazed down his left wing. His flying power crippled by the strike, Skyhawk had no choice but to move in closer to his enemy.