“Never,” added Nyra.
The Sperk looked back towards the Dam.
“And her throat was so red,” Blaze said quickly, glimpsing around the blue dragon. Casstooth returned her attention to the dragglings.
“Even redder than her skin. And slimy, too,” he added.
Casstooth grimaced. “I saw the mucus.”
“It’s getting colder,” said Blaze sadly. “What if she doesn’t get better?” His face crumpled dramatically. Nyra recognized it as fake.
“She’ll be fine. Probably. Colds rarely kill,” said the Sperk. Reassurance was clearly not her practice. Not that it was common for any Sperk to comfort an Agring.
“How can we know that?” pressed Blaze as Casstooth began veering away.
The Sperk faced him again, blocking the Dam area completely from view. “Your mother’s not the first dragon to get a cough. I get them every year.”
“Really?” said Blaze hopefully.
“Yes,” Casstooth said, indifferently. “At this time of the year, around when the cold weather sets in. It goes away in a few days.” The Sperk shifted so that the hill by the Reservoir became visible. Nyra had a sudden urge to rise on her toes and stood up taller.
Blaze threw Nyra a warning gaze before asking the next question. Nyra leaned back down. “So she’ll be fine?” he implored Casstooth, keeping her eyes on him.
“A sickness may be wretched on the outside, but it’s not very threatening in the long run. A fever is the best example.”
“Is it really?” nodded Blaze stupidly.
“Fevers kill disease. Broils the sickness out,” Casstooth yawned.
Casstooth must have been more bored than Nyra wagered, if being a know-it-all trumped putting insubordinate dragglings in their place. It couldn’t last. Any second now Casstooth would order them inside.
“Broils sickness to death,” Blaze affirmed.
“Yes. The body does most of the healing for you. Still–” her head started turning towards the Dam.
Blaze didn’t have time to distract her.
“—some water here and there… helps…”
The Sperk stopped, her head suspended motionless on her pillaring neck. Nyra edged to the left to catch a glimpse beyond the Sperk’s bulk.
“What is that?” said Casstooth.
“I see nothing,” said Blaze urgently. But his craning around the Sperk belied his claim.
Casstooth sniffed. Ears erect, she paced towards where Thaydra had vanished. Slow steps carried her further away from the dragglings until she was a few den holes off.
A small blue light flickered in the distance. Once. Twice. Thrice…
A pause.
Then the world blew up in anger as a blaze zoomed from the Reservoir banks.
Casstooth was a small blot stamped upon what looked like a great orange serpent, the spikes of its back swooping up the sky in white-hot pincers. Yellow tongues forked from its sides, snaking into the south, west, then north, where the Sperk stood in unspoiled grass.
A bellow erupted from Casstooth’s jaws. Blaze and Nyra shrunk to their shoulders. The call spiraled into rising smoke, where it was swallowed by stinging orange clouds. It was brighter, far brighter than any daytime there’d ever been.
A figure sped down the track of fire. Fast, so fast, with a wide billow ripping out of its side. The long neck swung back. A lurch followed, and magnificent flames rippled forward. Mother.
The fire itself was alive, lightening across the field like crimson leaves on a torrent river. It ducked and weaved, racing and splitting out as far as the eye could see. Flames climbed higher to the sky, scraping the world’s ceiling.
“Inside! Inside!” came a voice. It was smothered in crackles. Blaze pushed at Nyra’s flank. The first tendril of smoke wreathed into her nostrils as she fell back in the den.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Blaze dithered, tripping over the dirt pile. He tossed umber clumps everywhere. Nyra froze.
“Come on!” screamed Blaze
She grabbed soil, kicking towards the entrance, systemically letting the plan take off. The plan they’d discussed over and over again, too much, and yet she felt on the brink of forgetting it all.
“Faster…” Blaze commanded. He glanced over his shoulder. Nyra imagined sheets of gray scrawling above their heads, weaving in from the wide den opening.
“Do you think they’ve taken off yet?” breathed Nyra. Aches kindled down her elbows.
“I don’t know,” said Blaze, lost in a swirl of dust. “The fire hasn’t reached all the fish-oil trails yet. I think there’s still too much bare land, too much visibility.”
“There was too much …” Nyra coughed. “There was too much visibility when we last looked,” she panted. “The land may be covered now.” And suppose it was? What would happen if smoke filled the den? Choking her and Blaze alive? Suppose they had to run out. How would they breathe? How far could they get and where would they go? Suppose they wouldn’t get far at all. Suppose they did, and left everyone behind to perish.
Mother had not prepared them for this. Not for reality.
“We can’t know,” he panted. Only a sliver of bright light filtered through the entrance now. It was livid yellow.
“Almost there,” he heaved.
“How long do you think it will take Mum—”
A scream trilled their ears. An Agring.
Their dirt barrier flayed to ruins as Blaze and Nyra burst out. The dark ocean had all but vanished in the north, a great black mass that no light dared to touch save for the pathetic Green Spot.
The south was another world.
The fire trails had spiraled into a labyrinth. Everywhere, hills and dips were covered in exotic, blistering flowers, sweltering the roots of far and wide. Shadows wrinkled beyond the white walls, and frightened faces swelled in and out of focus. Both Agring and Sperk alike raced through the deadly maze.
The scream came again.
Tail lengths to the left, just out of the fire’s way, Cousin Jesoam writhed over the slope of her den. Fire gnashed at her left wing. Emdu flailed nearby.
“Stop!” Blaze cried, running to meet them.
“Stop!” Nyra echoed. Their cousins did not hear.
“She’s on fire!” screamed Emdu.
“Jesoam, close your wings!” shouted Blaze.
“She’s on fire!” repeated Emdu.
“Jesoam—” Blaze reached a brave paw to his cousin. Jumping over her convulsing body, he wrapped her wings down and weighed her to the ground. Jesoam looked ready to burst beneath him. Holding on tight, Blaze smothered the wing. The fire went out.
The wing tip rumpled to a different shade of black, shiny and puckered. Jesoam screamed louder.
“Oh, Jesoam,” said Blaze, gripped in terror. He rounded on Emdu. “What happened?”
“She got oil on it,” he said, his shaking intensified by flickering shadows. Nyra could hardly hear him over the snarling flames. “The fire reached us, and …”
“But why are you outside?” Blaze demanded. “We were supposed to stay—”
“Jes tried to follow Mum,” whimpered Emdu, his frightened face glazing.
“So Aunt Dewep got out!” cried Nyra, whipping towards the dark sea. “Uncle Flame Thistle. Did he get out, too?”
“No,” wailed Emdu. His head shook so quickly it blurred. “Mum nor Dada. Neither got out.”
“Where are they then?” Nyra demanded.
“They got here too quick.” Emdu flipped to the fiery walls. “They got ‘em and kept ‘em down.”
“Who? Down where?”
“They herded them in. All together.” His screaming words blended in a searing cry. “They’re in there!”
Nyra squinted, the heat pressing her face back like a white hot palm. Colorless bodies wove through ornate curtains. Fear and anger, swimming together on a warped stage.
Other younglings emerged from their dens, looking for lost parents. They began a chorus of names. Jesoam and Em
du chimed in. Nyra found herself crying ‘Mum’ louder than all the rest.
A dark shape ripped through the fire, bounding across a patch of untouched ground.
“Vor!” cried Nyra.
Out of the chaotic swarm, Cousin Vor bolted in the dragglings’ direction. His wings were open. White claws shimmered upon the orange-lit grasses. Nyra spun around as he whooshed past. The ocean waited ahead, blacker than ever. All but for the little green beacon of hope.
Almost there, Vor.
His wings brushed the grass, beating the air like the lungs of a panting animal.
Do it, DO IT!
Then a behemoth parted the white-orange walls, serpents of fire threading from those terrible black wings. The beast leaped up high, so high over the dragglings’ heads, and crashed ahead of Vor, blocking his path.
Vor skidding to a halt.
Perched at the cliff edge, Darkmoon’s yellow eyes radiated down at the cowering Agring.
“No,” murmured Blaze.
More shapes followed, matching the power of Vor. Dewep charged, wings flapping. But she was stopped by Casstooth, crashing down in the same manner of her predecessor. Dewep slammed to her chest, halting a breath from the irate Sperk. The twins came shortly thereafter. Another Sperk landed. Then another. Then another, gripping the cliff so tightly the edges crumbled to the sea.
They’re making a wall.
The Sperks drove them back, so far back the Agrings crowded at Nyra and Blaze’s sides. Before long she was lost among them, jumping to catch a glimpse of the next flyer.
But with each attempt came increasingly deadened eyes upon the red and gray dragons. By the time Ackeezo emerged, the Coast was barricaded by Sperks.
The Agrings were giving up.
All but for two. And they came out last.
Fuhorn and Thaydra marched side by side from the fire. Thaydra’s face opened to a rage wider than moonlight, invincible to the acidic air. Opalheart walked behind them. Sorrow wrought his frame.
Every adult Sperk lined the cliff side. Before them huddled thirty Agrings, young and old, clumped together. Faces. Faces with names. They blurred as one, laden with identical defeat.
The mass of Agrings parted for Mother and Fuhorn, who walked through with high heads. The two came up the Coast slope; two pinpoints plucked from a crowd of red and gray.
“Do you relish in madness?” growled Darkmoon. He did not raise his voice over the flames, yet remarkably, it was as clear as summer birdsong. “Do you learn nothing from your losses? My losses?”
Thaydra glowered at Fuhorn’s side, taking the last few strides to the Sperk. Though unabashed hatred pierced her focus forth, she spoke coolly. “You’ve lost nothing. You’ve lost nothing tonight.”
“Nothing?” said Darkmoon. “You see nothing?” He jerked towards the fire and smoke gathering in the heavens.
“Rain will mend that,” said Thaydra, jabbing a claw skyward. “And all will be well for your lot. But water won’t heal our scars.”
“This is not a matter of water,” spat Darkmoon. “And you’ve the temerity to counter your scars against mine?”
Nyra was lost. Lost in the verbose. Lost in terror.
“It’s our right to lament, not yours.”
“IT’S MY RIGHT MORE THAN ANYONE’S!” he boomed. Blue scales danced liquidly upon his chest. “It was your damnable mate who slew mine—”
“And who killed mine?” countered Thaydra.
“A pittance,” Darkmoon rumbled dangerously.
The air was sharp and stinging. Nyra constantly blinked back tears. Tears from multiple fountains, all within her, sprouted from myriad emotions.
Darkmoon crouched, leveling to the mother dragon. “I did not start this bloody battle, Thaydra. Crimson did, the day he leaped to the seas. You prolonged it when you tunneled south. They both ended with your losses. Yet you press on, uncaring for the heartbreak you’ve suffered.”
“Not all suffering is flaunted.” Thaydra flexed her lone wing.
“Royalwing was not a perpetrator. But you made my mate fall to carry on your own greed.”
“Greed?” Thaydra chittered. “Will it always be greed to you? Where we play the takers, you the giver?”
“Your lover, gone. Your mate, gone. Your best friend, only alive in the eyes of whom you call your own. You’ve forgotten them to make room for risk.”
“I do not forget,” said Thaydra darkly, crashing from laughter in a single heartbeat.
“You forget,” hissed Darkmoon. “We are now in blazes because you forget. If you remembered your place, there’d be life on both our sides. And you’d cease to prolong this battle.”
Thaydra neared the Sperk until their muzzles came perilously close to touching. “I don’t forget. And you can hide behind wordiness and believe we bear no regrets. But not one of us here has forgotten what we’ve endured. We relive it everyday, how our loved ones died by your teeth. We’re stationary here. We can’t run from the memories. The old tunnels stare at us daily!” she cried. “No. The Agrings remember better than ever. That’s why we try to get out. It’s not to hurt ourselves. You know this.”
His stature did not change.
“It’s not that we forget, my Darkmoon. We simply don’t dwell. I’m stronger than that. As is Fuhorn, and Rovavik, and Vor, and Dewep. Or are those mere names to you? Do you imagine the faces behind them? I hope so. This won’t be our last fight. You know that. No matter what you do, we stay resilient.” The mother dragon held her head, face smattered in proud and violent color.
Darkmoon’s face hardened. The twists of his mouth reflected the ravenous landscape.
But then they loosened, interlacing from taut fury to relaxed purpose. His lids narrowed.
“Then we shall terminate your resilience.”
For moments, Darkmoon had glared at no one but Thaydra. Even the rousing flames could not capture his attention. Some burning manifestation within him had a more feverish yearning, a need to swallow up the smaller creature at his feet. Thaydra’s back was to Nyra and the rest of the herd, and so Nyra could not see her mother properly. Whether Sperk and Agring were locked upon each other remained unknown.
But when Nyra lifted her gaze from Mother’s back, she met the almond eyes dead on.
Darkmoon was staring at her.
He lunged.
Gasps sounded through the Agrings as they scrambled apart. Nyra tried to follow Blaze. But she was torn from her brother’s flank, slashed away by a whipping tail. Rolling, she tried to disappear behind cousins and friends. The almond eyes found her, and the herd rounded out accordingly to escape the trampling talons.
Nyra could not dissipate. She was the target.
Bottomless grumbles rolled somewhere above. Whiteness flashed over the orange clouds.
Darkmoon’s head shot over Nyra, black against the sky. A violent shove jolted her forward, and she found herself catapulted towards Mother and Fuhorn, a few lengths from the cliff edge and the wall of Sperks.
Nyra latched to Thaydra. Fuhorn squeezed against her.
Something like tree-bark hit her backside, and Nyra popped out from between the two adults. Inertia pushed her forth, too fast and too far. She stopped at the one gap in the Sperk wall, the highest point, the point where Darkmoon had stood moments before; the jut of the cliff edge.
The sea yawned below, dizzy and downward.
Nyra whipped around. Collapsing on her belly, she shrunk in Darkmoon’s towering shadow. His haunches blocked out her trembling family beyond.
“Roendon’s Teeth in you, Darkmoon!” Thaydra shrieked. The Sperk moved in time for Nyra to catch Mother’s hysteria. Thaydra paled on the colorful background, a ghost in flamboyant cacophony.
Nyra tried to scream. No sound came out.
“Dwelling yet?” yelled the Sperk. “Or is it an impending sardonic remark that makes you hesitate?”
“What is this?” shrieked Thaydra. “She’s done nothing!” Her breath was raspy, dying.
; “Will this be the one?” Darkmoon whispered.
The waves below beat with Nyra’s thudding chest.
“You’re battle is with me,” said Thaydra. Her body looked on the brink of dissolving.
“Will this be the one?”
Blaze shot from the crowd, stopping halfway between the Agring group and Mother.
“Darkmoon, please,” cried Fuhorn.
Images whipped before Nyra like shards of obsidian; Blaze’s unblinking eyes, Thaydra leaping forward, wisps of flame spitting from the monster, Thaydra recoiling.
“You’ve fueled intolerance,” Darkmoon boomed, his tail snapping. “You’ve fanned a meaningless war to fire. And you’ve never reflected enough to put it to an end. The choice has long been yours. Still you clamor for the last word at every chance.”
Blaze, I need you.
Darkmoon stepped away to reveal the entire Nammock herd. Nyra huddled nakedly before the world.
“Then, Agrings of Nyra, take your last word.”
No sound.
“Win this battle,” he raged in a voiced that stung the unseen stars. “May your persistence reap the benefits. You wanted a triumph, someone to be your savior. Well, see her now.”
Cries fluttered from the Agrings.
Nyra was beginning to understand, and desperately wished that she could not. Her eyes became hooks on her mother, hoping a strong enough stare would pull her to protection.
For the drop was very far and black.
“Then find your triumph at last.”
Yellow-green eyes dotted before the flames, all at her. Agrings and Sperks. Red, gray, and blue bodies—all the same in fire light.
“BE OFF!”
And as his thunderous voice clashed upon those last words, he swung full weight around and bashed Nyra’s small body over the cliff, while a thousand raindrops spattered after her.
Part II
Ocean
Chapter 7: In
Amid a thousand droplets, the prisoner spattered back to shore. White water kicked up over its face. It could hardly see or smell. The suns above vanished behind the monster, chasing. Always chasing.
Too shallow. The shore was always far too shallow. If only it had reached the depths. There it would have had a fighting chance.
The Waters of Nyra- Volume I Page 13