The dragon approached the humans with his head down, and neck arched like he was ready to spring.
It impressed Thomas.
“Wow,” Fion mouthed. “He’s white. I’ve never seen a white dragon.”
Thomas watched the little dragon flaunting his power. “Not white exactly, more translucent.”
“Yes,” Thran responded. “He is an albino.”
Knat smiled. “A pale dragon.”
Thomas considered the little dragon as he continued to shuffle and growl. “Is that rare, an albino I mean?”
A hush settled on the trio, and finally, Fion spoke. “The Otherlander is said to ride a pale dragon.”
Sixty-Two
On the way back to the stronghold, Fion explained how the ancient writings spoke of an Otherlander who rode a pale dragon endowed with exceptional abilities. Thomas had a hard time imagining the little white dragon could carry a rider, much less possess any fantastic talents. Fion assured him that a dragon who was that size could take a rider Thomas’s size. And the little dragon was still growing.
The real challenge was to train him for riding. Dragons all imprinted on their riders when they hatched, and since the little dragon hatched late, it was too late for imprinting. Like Thran had told them, no one expected the egg to hatch.
Could he learn to ride that little runt of a dragon? “Runt,” he laughed to himself. Like the runt of the litter. He liked the sound of that. That’s what he would call him. Runt.
That night over dinner, Fion couldn’t wait to tell her mother about the little dragon they had discovered. “Master Thran is a kind and generous man.” Ellie leveled her gaze on Fion and Thomas. “And busy.”
“Yes, Mother, we will stay out of his way.”
Ellie turned to Thomas. She always looked at him with a little sadness, like his own mother when she worried about him. “Thomas, do you want to take on their dragon?”
Thomas realized for the first time someone was asking his opinion.
Did he want to take on a dragon? Actually, more than anything, he wanted to go home. But he was here now, safe and among his friends. Why not?
“Yes, Ma’am. I do”
“So, tell me about this dragon,” Ellie said.
“Mother, he is just the cutest thing and quite spirited.”
“Please, daughter, I would like to hear from his new rider.”
Thomas cleared his throat nervously. “Well, he is kind of small but Fion assures me he is large enough to carry me.”
Ellie nodded. “What is his length, snout to tail?”
Thomas thought. “About half the length of Thorn. Maybe 20 feet.”
“Wingspan?”
Thomas glanced at Fion. “Maybe 25 feet. His wings are wider than his length.”
Fion nodded her agreement with a big smile.
“A nice compact dragon he is,” Ellie said. “And his coloring?”
“He’s an albino.”
Ellie’s eyes widened for a moment and Thomas saw it.
She recovered. “A pale dragon he is then.”
“Yes, ma’am. Does that mean something?”
Thomas returned her gaze. She seemed to look through him.
“You have seen and experienced much in your brief life.”
Thomas remembered his last trip to N’albion. He had seen much. Even experienced the war for N’albion. He had held Ellie’s father, Loren, in his arms as he lay dying. And now the mother of his new friend Fion sat before him, looking on him only as a mother could. Her gaze contained layers of concern - sympathy, love, care, fear, courage, pride all wrapped into one glint of her eye.
“Thomas, I believe you’re going to see and experience much more and this dragon may be part of your story.”
Ellie reached and placing her hand softly on his shoulder she whispered, “Courage my young, old friend. The Creator be with you then, Thomas.”
Sixty-Three
Thomas awoke early. He was too excited to sleep. He bathed quickly and dressed by candlelight, then slipped out of his room and snuck down the hall to Fion’s room. Thomas struck a relaxed pose, leaning against the wall, and waited. It didn’t take long. The door handle turned slowly and opened, and Fion backed out quietly, then turned and seeing Thomas, gave a startled squeal.
“Thomas!” Fion gasped, grabbing her heart. “You scared me to death.”
Thomas grinned mischievously. “Well, the day’s a waistn’,” he said with his best N’albion accent.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t have my sword. I may have lopped your head clean off,” Fion said.
Thomas smiled, “Let’s go get your chores done, then see a man about a dragon.”
Thomas and Fion made their way to the dragon-keep and started the morning routine of caring for Ember. They brushed, washed, and fed the dragon. Then cleaned out the stable, disposed of the used hay and muck, and put fresh hay back in. It was back-breaking work, but Thomas was enjoying himself.
He stopped and leaned on his wooden broom. “What else do we need to do?”
Fion looked up from drying off Ember, who gave a contented throaty rumble.
“Why do you ask?”
“You know.”
Fion smiled and stood. Then a loud ruckus reached them from the open landing ledge.
“Right on time,” Fion yelled over the clamor.
Thomas and Fion ran to the noise. Then pushed their way through the gathered crowd to see master Thran still in the saddle of his great green dragon with a rope fastened to the saddle-horn. At the end of the line, the little albino dragon whirled and bit and snapped and flapped its wings, straining against his lead. As the crowd moved closer to watch the crazy spectacle, the dragon reared back and let out his mighty roar, which sounded more like a high-pitched scream, causing everyone to cover their ears and fall back.
Thomas felt sorry for the little guy and gingerly moved forward to calm him. Thomas reached out his hand towards the little dragon, and for a moment, it seemed to calm him.
“Careful there,” someone called from the crowd. “I hope you’re not too attached to your hand.” That got a hearty chuckle from the onlookers.
Thomas ignored them and kept moving calmly toward the little dragon. Fion watched with admiration.
“It’s okay, little guy,” Thomas said soothingly. “I’m your friend.”
The dragon folded his wings in toward his body and lowered his head, cocking it side to side, trying to comprehend the boy’s words.
Master Thran dismounted from his dragon, still holding the rope securely. Shepherd pushed through the crowd and stood next to Fion. She looked up at him with her bright green eyes and gave him a brief smile. It was impossible to know what he was thinking as he calmly stood watching, his expression obscured by his huge gray mustache.
One boy named Jag called from the crowd. “That’s not a proper dragon. I don’t know what that thing is.” Immediately, the albino dragon swung his head in Jag’s direction and snapped. The boy fell back in shock, grateful that he still had all his appendages.
“Hey, Runt! No! Here!” Thomas commanded with authority.
Runt leveled his gaze on Jag and gave him a hiss. The boy scooted crab-like backward into the crowd as they all laughed.
“He’s got spirit, I’ll give him that,” Shepherd commented to Fion beside him. “But, can Thomas ride him?”
Master Thran turned to one of the dragon wranglers. “Fetch him a training saddle.” The stable hand scurried away and soon returned with a small leather saddle. It was lighter and thinner than the heavy saddle usually used for long rides. And it only had one belt with which to secure it to the beast. Thomas thought it looked more like what a jockey would use on Earth in a horse race.
The young boy then approached warily and gave the saddle to Thomas, careful to keep himself out of harm’s way of the snapping jaws of the albino dragon.
Thomas adjusted his grip on the saddle, flipping the belt over the top so it would be quick to arrange on the
wary dragon. He snuck a glance at Fion, whose eyes were wide and lips moved like in silent prayer.
Thomas kept soothing the dragon quietly as he approached. He held the saddle up, offering it to the dragon to smell. He hoped he wouldn’t mistake it for food.
“It’s okay. This is your saddle,” said Thomas.
Runt sniffed the saddle and gave it a quick lick.
Thomas padded to the side of the dragon and slowly lifted the saddle, keeping his eye also on the rope that he would use as a rein.
The crowd held its collective breath. No one dared move.
Thomas flung the saddle belt over and set the saddle in place and grabbed the belt as it swung toward him under the belly of the dragon.
Runt shuddered and growled.
“Shhh, down boy, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Thomas said.
Runt settled.
“There, there,” Thomas efficiently threaded the belt and secured it. With the saddle fixed, Runt shuddered again, unsure of this new contraption.
Thomas gave one more look at Fion, who nodded and at Shepherd, whose gray eyes glinting, told him he was smiling behind the bushy mustache. Thomas then nodded at Thran, who released the rope.
Runt stood quietly. I’ve got this, Thomas thought with a burst of confidence. Another deep breath.
“Here we go,” Thomas said. He leaped into the saddle.
The little dragon exploded into the air. All sound and fury and wind. Thomas held on for dear life as the dragon did his best to unseat the strange boy from his back. Runt soared up to the roof of the cavern, causing Thomas to duck down so he wouldn’t be taken out by a protruding rock hanging from the ceiling. Then the dragon folded his wings and dove, spinning in a barrel roll toward the crowd. The crowd burst into applause with shouts of “ooh” and “ahh.” Then they scattered, diving for cover, as the white dragon careened through the onlookers.
“Sorry,” shouted Thomas over his shoulder as the little dragon continued his flight, attempting to dislodge the pesky human from his back.
Thomas doggedly held on as Runt now made tight spirals toward the ceiling of the cavern again.
Fion tracked her friend as he and he dragon flew higher and higher.
“You can do it,” she said to herself.
Shepherd folded his arms over his chest.
“I have to admit, I didn’t think he would last this long. I have seen many a seasoned rider thrown from a rogue dragon.”
Master Thran and Knat joined them.
“He just may make it,” Thran said.
“He just might,” Shepherd agreed.
“Make what, Master Shepherd?” Fion asked.
“There is more than one way to imprint on a dragon. It happens so rarely that it is never spoken of. All our dragons imprint on their given riders when they hatch.”
“Yes,” Fion responded, “As we present them to their rider at the hatching ceremony. But that didn’t happen with the little pale dragon. So how can he imprint?”
Shepherd nodded, continuing to watch the swooping and swirling antics of the dragon and Thomas. “If a rider can show himself to be Master, then the dragon will submit and imprint on the rider and serve him.”
“How can he do that?” Fion asked.
“He has to outlast the dragon and stay on,” Shepherd responded. He had seen many riders attempt to ride a rogue dragon in his long tenure as Master of the Dragon-keep. Very few could stay astride.
Ellie, Fion’s mother, stepped beside her daughter, “If Thomas can stay in the saddle, he proves to the dragon he is worthy of being his rider. Not every rider can master every dragon. There is an element of mystery. Best left to the wisdom of the Creator.”
Fion turned back to the show. Thomas still clung to the makeshift reins and clutched the neck of the dragon.
“He has to stay on,” Fion said more to the Creator than to anyone listening.
Despite the erratic flight, the little dragon could not dislodge Thomas.
Thomas suddenly felt a tremor run through the little dragon’s hide as he clutched the sides of the dragon with his knees. There was a shift in the flight pattern in the dragon. The flight smoothed out, and he gave his piercing roar. Did Thomas dare to let up on the reins? He gave some slack, and the dragon didn’t take advantage of it. He continued to fly a stable pattern along the roof of the cavern. Thomas pressed with his knees and leaned to his left, and to his amazement, the dragon complied. Something had changed. Where before he felt resistance and aggression, now he felt submission and acceptance. Thomas felt different too. He could only think of one word that described what he felt between himself and the little pale dragon—connection.
Thomas leaned more in the training saddle and the little dragon immediately adjusted. His wing dipped, and he soared in tight spirals to the floor of the cavern. He swooped toward the dumbfounded crowd of onlookers who all ducked as he skimmed over them, then braked with his wings and gently alighted on the floor.
Thomas sat frozen in wonder and awe. Was this the same dragon that only moments ago tried desperately to eject him from the saddle?
Thomas snapped back to reality as the crowd burst into applause and cheering. They rushed to the side of the dragon, but then dropped back as Runt screeched and snapped at those who got too close.
Fion pushed through the crowd, out of breath and flushed with excitement. “You did it! I knew it all along.”
Shepherd, Thran and Ellie joined her.
“Well now, son,” Shepherd said over the crowd. “That was serious riding.”
Runt growled, his lips curling to show his wicked fangs.
“No, Runt,” Thomas commanded. “These are our friends.”
The little dragon calmed almost immediately. Fion reached forward toward the dragon’s snout.
“Careful, lassie,” said Thran. “Remember, that’s a rogue dragon you’re petting.”
Fion looked at Thomas, and he nodded. She reached delicately and placed her fingers on the nose of the dragon. Runt trembled, and Thomas felt it move through the little dragon’s entire body.
“Thomas! The Otherlander!” Someone shouted, and the crowd cheered again.
Thomas blushed, feeling self-conscious. He couldn't care less what they thought of him. The only approval he cared about was the young girl with crazy red hair who was beaming up at him with her glowing green eyes.
Sixty-Four
Fresh snow covered the front yard of the Colsons’ house. The twinkling Christmas lights reflected on the bright whiteness. Thomas hated to walk across the snow and spoil the clean brightness, but he had to: he was home! He turned the latch on the front door and pushed it open. The Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated festively. The fire in the hearth blazed invitingly. And the smell of fresh-baked cookies and hot spiced cider filled the house? Under the tree, brightly wrapped presents all waited patiently. Thomas called out, “Mom?”
Caroline Colson answered from the top of the stairs and made her way down, carefully grasping the rail all the way and holding her protruding belly with the other. It looked like she might deliver his baby brother any day.
“Oh, Thomas, you’re home. And just in time to open your present.” She smiled. “Your father is going to want to see this. “
“See what?” asked Daniel Colson as he stepped from the kitchen with a tray of cookies in one hand and a mug of hot cider in the other. He set them on the coffee table.
Thomas’s father leaned over to search for the right present. Thomas glimpsed shining gold as it swung from inside his father’s jacket. The dragon pendant!
“Dad, why do you have my pendant? “
“Oh, that?” He examined it with one hand while he held a brightly wrapped package with the other. “I just thought I might need it.”
Thomas received the present as his parents sat on the couch on either side of him.
“Go ahead, son,” urged Caroline.
Thomas couldn’t believe this was all real. He was home. He hadn�
�t missed Christmas or the birth of his new baby brother. They were home; they were safe.
“What are you waiting for, sweet pea, open it,” Caroline said.
Thomas shrugged and pulled the end of the bow. Then it happened.
The present shook. Thomas turned to his parents. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Daniel said.
“Nothing.” Thomas tore the shiny wrapping paper, and the package jolted violently.
Thomas bolted upright, dropping the package on the coffee table. It wriggled and shook.
Thomas looked at his parents, who smiled as if it were a normal Christmas morning.
The package bulged. A long black claw pierced the cardboard.
Something was pushing its way out!
The package exploded, sending shiny wrapping paper fluttering around the room.
Thomas grimaced, slamming his eyes shut in the shock.
Then he slowly opened his eyes. The Shadow hunter stood before him.
“Otherlander,” it hissed. “You may have gotten rid of me, lucky that, but there are others. You will be defeated and all you love will be destroyed.”
It extended its claws and sprang, wrapping itself around Thomas.
Thomas awoke with a start, still wrestling with his blanket that was wrapped about him in a tangled mess. Realizing it was a nightmare, he tried to relax, but his heart continued to pound like a bass drum.
Sixty-Five
A hush fell over the dining hall as Thomas stepped into view. He still felt a little disoriented from the nightmare he just had.
After the thrilling ride with Runt, he had to get away for a moment to himself. The cheers of “Otherlander” disturbed him and so he headed back to his room and lay on his bed staring at the ceiling trying to process all that that was happening. That’s when he must have fallen asleep.
Otherlander: Through the Storm Page 13