by F M Andrews
“We have a rule that ‘One death, one birth’. We are only able to create life to replace someone who has passed into the next phase of existence. That way we always have enough food to go around. Not all communities live by this rule and sometimes we hear stories about starvation and the terrible battles that this can cause.” Syran sighed and they sat quietly for some time, contemplating all the images his words had conjured up. Turrin looked out at the teeming life that surrounded them and shuddered, knowing now how fragile its existence was.
Syran eventually shook himself out of his reverie ,saying, “I can give you the grand tour if you like. Are you ready for another flight?” he asked cheekily, knowing the reaction he was going to get. Turrin felt the colour drain from his face and he swallowed nervously. It was one thing to glide, smoothly down but quite another to be pumped into the air with those huge wings, yet he was trapped. Syran had made a very kind offer and it would be rude to refuse, besides this was the only way he could get back to the cave. He was at Syran’s mercy. Accepting his fate, Turrin nodded, dressed himself again and clambered back up Syran’s foreleg.
He was amazed how much better he felt now after his swim. The seat did not feel so high, nor so precarious. Maybe he was getting used to it or maybe he was just that little bit less nervous this time.
“We ready?” Syran asked, spreading out his magnificent wings. Not waiting for Turrin’s reply, he launched himself aloft. Turrin inhaled sharply and clung to his precarious hand holds for grim death. “Relax, you will find it much easier if you are not so tense,” Syran chuckled.
“All very well for him to say,” Turrin muttered to himself, but amazingly the flight was much smoother than he had expected and bit by bit he became more confident and even began to enjoy it. In no time they were rising above the cliff tops and the vast, flat lands of the desert came into view. It was awe inspiring in its bleakness. The contrast between the lush vegetation in the basin and the barren, rocky landscape of the plateau could not have been more striking. Life up here would be truly precarious.
Turrin just sat and took in the view. From here he could see to the edge of the sky in one direction and in the other, there was a rugged mountain range that cut a jagged silhouette across the horizon. He was so enthralled that he even forgot to be nervous about flying, until Syran banked steeply and he felt himself slip sideways, causing him to let out a most unmanly like squeak. Syran got the message and for the rest of the flight he only made safe, lazy circles with no sudden moves. Slowly Turrin began to truly relax and enjoy the feeling of the wind in his face, even though it was making his eyes water. Blinking to clear them, he was surprised at how small everything looked down below. Dragons were now tiny, colourful dots on a green and blue background. The lake appeared like a small pond and he could see the basin in its entirety. It looked like a well, plunged deep into the flat landscape of the desert, with two narrow gorges snaking away in opposite directions. They flew in a wide circle around the basin before Syran descended, dropping below the cliff tops and gliding smoothly to the ledge outside of Turrin’s cave where he flared his wings and made a feather-light landing. Turrin slid back down to earth, exhilarated.
“That was amazing,” he enthused. “So much more fun than riding a horse.”
“What is a horse?” Syran asked, settling down to face the sun. Turrin sent the silver dragon an image of his horse. Syran snorted. “You would compare me with that?” he said with derision.
Turrin smiled. “Never, but it is the best we can do in our world.”
The dragon snorted again before he closed his eyes, dismissing the whole idea as insignificant.
The next few days passed in a pleasant blur of all things dragon. Turrin learnt that there was no one leader or leaders and that everyone just got on with the business of living. They were mostly vegetarian but spiced things up a bit with fish from the lake or small game caught out on the tops. Every now and again a hunting expedition would cross the mountains to hunt the tasty little animals that lived in the canyons. Turrin had become quite attached to these small, white, winged friends during his first few days on this world and his stomach squirmed a little at the thought, even though he knew Syran would not have been there to save him if he had not been hunting them. Each night he would check Errin’s parchment, wince and vow that he would talk to Syran about his mission, the shard and Syran’s part in it all, but each day the perfect opportunity never quite seemed to present itself. Turrin reasoned that as Syran was the shard’s host, they would be able to fly back to the pickup point, so he had a few more days grace. However, the fact was that he was savouring this safe, happy place, where there was no immediate threat, where he could sleep well at night and he did not want to have to leave. He had not had one of his nightmares since he arrived. He knew that he was deliberately procrastinating but he also knew that the moment he told Syran the truth it would be the end of this blissful existence for them both and so each day had passed without him saying anything.
They fell into a sort of routine, their days filled with sunning, eating, swimming and of course flying. Flying with Syran had turned from frightening to thrilling and together they had discovered just how far they could push their limits. Turrin now looked forward to their adventures. This morning Syran had arrived in high spirits and announced that he was going to take Turrin to a very special place, a place that was only known to the dragons born in these caves. Turrin got the distinct impression that the silver was not telling him the whole truth and that the joke was definitely going to be on him. Scrambling up to his normal perch between Syran’s wings he resigned himself to the inevitable.
As normal Syran flew down to the basin floor, but instead of landing he continued on across the lake and towards the far cliff at the beginning of the narrow gorge that led out of the basin. They landed at the entrance of a cave at the base of the cliff. It was not very large; in fact, Turrin was not even sure that Syran would actually fit; however, the dragon shuffled forward into the shady interior and Turrin slowly followed behind, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. They continued deeper and deeper into the cave until the light from the entrance was such a small circle that Turrin could block it out with his hand.
When they had first entered, Turrin had detected a faint rushing sound like the wind through a forest but and further in they went the louder and more insistent it had become. The air in the tunnel was also changing. No longer dry and brittle, it now felt moist, almost a tangible presence. Turrin was having trouble seeing: Syran had turned into a ghost-like apparition moving steadily forward, his silver scales reflecting the faint light from the distant entry and Turrin was totally unprepared when the dragon unexpectedly stopped, and so bumped into him. Syran did not seem to notice. Turrin was curious and edged past.
“Do not go any further or you will fall!” Syran warned swinging his head down to prevent Turrin from taking another step. Turrin stopped and stared into the blackness his other senses coming alive. The ever present noise had become thunderous and a damp wind was rushing upwards past his face, pushing him backwards. “These are the Wonderfalls,” Syran announced proudly. “This is the underground river the lake empties into. They fall so far that you cannot see the bottom.”
“I can’t even see the beginning,” Turrin commented. “Your eyes must see in the dark better than mine.”
Syran snorted. “Just another way we are superior to you,” he joked, immediately sharing his vision with Turrin, causing him to gasp and take a quick step back. The view was amazing. They stood in a large cavern on a bridge-like slab of rock, suspended over a rushing river of water that plunged straight down into a narrow bore hole and the nothingness below. Turrin experienced severe vertigo and felt as if he were slowly being sucked over the edge and into the void. The volume of water was incredible, it would sweep away anything in its path.
“This is where we come to say farewell to those who have moved onto the next plane. We give them to the waters.” Syran’s thoughts t
urned sober as he remembered friends and family he had watched carried into the depths. Turrin understood and felt humbled by the huge privilege and trust he had been awarded. He also felt guilty that he had not shared his truth. He was going to have to talk to Syran about the shard soon. Tomorrow, he vowed to himself.
Knowing that this would be his last perfect evening made it all the more bittersweet as he sat on the ledge outside Yonla’s cave with his two good friends sharing a contented silence, watching as one by one the dragons flew up to their caves until the basin was empty and in darkness. Overhead the first pinpricks of light glowed in the inky night sky. Yonla yawned, showing a row of large, sharp, pointed teeth in a huge, cavernous maw, a sight that had terrified Turrin the first time he had witnessed it.
“Well, the close of another day. Good night to you both,” she rumbled as she shuffled off to her sandy bed in the darkness behind them. Turrin could not resist the urge to yawn also.
“I think I am off as well,” he murmured, standing and stretching up towards the stars.
“Sleep well, little one,” Syran teased. “I will see you in the morning,” he called, spreading his wings and gliding off into the darkness. The nights were cold but Turrin had found warmth by sleeping curled up next to Yonla. She did not seem to mind; in fact, he thought that she secretly enjoyed having him close to scratch itches she could not reach. He quietly settled down besides the dozing green and, unable to resist it’s calling, he was asleep before she even started her gentle snoring.
#
A single, terrified scream woke them. It was early dawn. They both leapt to their feet but before they could reach the cave entrance a cacophony of noise erupted. Loud, challenging trumpet calls were intermixed with screamed warnings and gut-wrenching screams of pain. Yonla had no idea what was happening but for Turrin it was all too familiar. They were under attack!
“Keep back. Don’t let them see you!” Turrin screamed into Yonla’s mind.
“What is happening?” she cried, wincing at each cry of agony.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I will go and have a look. I am small and they may not see me.”
Yonla nodded, her eyes full of concern. He creeped forward on all fours towards the entrance. He crouched behind a rock and, keeping low to the ground, peered out. What he saw made him recoil in horror. The normally peaceful basin was now a slaughter house.
Large, unfamiliar dragons, male by the look of them, were on a killing spree. Claws and jaws dripping with blood they hunted down anyone who could not flee quickly enough. A small blue swooped past Yonla’s ledge, closely pursued by a large dark brown attacker. The blue swerved but the brown, anticipating the move, plucked it out of the air, instantly shredding its wings and breaking its neck. Then, as if losing all interest in its victim, it simply let the blue’s broken body fall to the ground like a tattered piece of rag.
Turrin gasped, spilling hot tears of impotent rage. He had no idea who these monsters were or where they came from. The sky was a battlefield, a battle his friends were losing, judging by the amount of small, colourful bodies that littered the floor of the basin. The only dragon that seemed to be a challenge for them was, of course, the big silver, who was everywhere, inflicting as much damage as he could. He had a small troop of larger males with him but they were few against many and it was only a matter of time before he would be overcome. His mind racing, Turrin tried to think of a way to help, to think of a way to try and save them, but it was impossible. He was so small, so useless against such vicious beasts. Moving back away from the entrance he collapsed against the cave wall, his legs giving way in defeat. Yonla strode forward, her mind full of Turrin’s shared images. He had to stop her! She would die!
Leaping to his feet he place himself in her way “No, you have to save yourself,” he pleaded. “Don’t you see, if we lose you we lose any chance of healing the injured. You are their only chance to be whole again if we survive. We have to be clever about this. You can’t just throw your life away,” Turrin cried in desperation. “We need to have a plan.”
Yonla hesitated, caught by indecision.
Desperately he tried to clear his head and think. What would Errin do, he wondered? Last time he had asked himself that he had discovered that he could leap. Of course! A light went on in his mind – maybe he could try the same thing now? He had probably recovered sufficiently to use his talent again, yet the question was, how he could use it. Maybe he could leap with Yonla. Maybe he could take her to safety.
Glancing out once more, he noticed with terror that the battle appeared to be over. The skies were empty. Where was Syran? Turrin could not see him anywhere, but what he did notice was that the invaders were beginning a systematic search of the caves. Their luck was running out! They had to leave now. There was no time to try and explain it all to Yonla, so instead, he reached out to place his hand on her foreleg.
She was trembling. “We have to do something,” she whimpered. “They are all dying, I can feel it.”
Turrin closed his eyes and concentrated. Sourcing power from the rising sun, he pictured a small set of boulders he and Syran had visited a few days ago on a winged lizard hunt. He pictured himself with Yonla sitting behind the rocks as clearly as he could and taking a deep, shaky breath he leapt.
It was with indescribable relief that he felt his stomach do the familiar flip flop and suddenly he was out on the barren tops staring at the mountains, a violently shaking Yonla standing next to him. He had done it! But, boy, was he was tired. He felt completely drained. Transporting two had taken its toll. He sank down to his knees, head down, fighting the despair. The images that kept passing through his mind caused his bile to rise and, uncontrollably, he vomited where he sat. There were scenes that he saw today that he would have to live with, for the rest of his life, however short that might be.
Yonla began to move, breaking him from his indulgent self-pity. “What, what just happened? How did you do … that?” she asked, her eyes were whirling with confusion and fear. Turrin quickly explained as best he could. But she did not seem to understand why he had taken her. “This is not right! Not right at all. I can’t just leave them. I have to go back,” she cried, unfurling her wings, ready to take flight.
“I will go!” Turrin called, quickly scrambling up to stand in front of her. “I have a better chance of being able to save them than you,” he reasoned. “They will need you to heal them when I bring them back. You need to stay here.”
He could see her mind racing and knew by the slump of her shoulders when she finally came to the only conclusion possible, that this was the right thing to do. Although her eyes had a haunted, faraway look she nodded, accepting that this was possibly their only hope of saving anyone at all.
The sun was higher in the sky now and the heat was beginning to radiate off the nearby rocks. Turrin tapped into this energy and located himself back inside Yonla’s cave. The leap was still draining although it was so much easier without a passenger. The moment he arrived he knew that he was not alone, a large body blocked the entrance and it was lumbering forward into the cave. Crouching in the darkness, Turrin held his breath, wishing that he was invisible. There was no escape. A stray shaft of light illuminated the dragon before him. It was huge and truly ugly. Its eyes smouldered with hate and greed, it’s breath stank of carrion and its scales were dull. Turrin’s knees turned to water, his only hope was to leap again but unfortunately he was not going to be allowed that luxury as the dragon moved forward and the shaft of light slipped past its shuffling form to beam a spotlight directly into his hiding place. He became a statue. The head jerked up and those sickening eyes locked onto his, hypnotizing him like a moth caught in a flame.
A flick of movement at the cave entrance broke the spell and suddenly the face before him contorted in surprise and pain. With a jerk the whole body was violently pulled backwards, claws scraping across the floor in a desperate attempt to hold on. Turrin caught a glimpse of silver scales and heard Syran’s incomprehen
sible battle cry loud in his head. The relief of being rescued was quickly replaced by concern for his friend. Syran was large, but this beast was bigger and used to killing. Turrin was pretty sure Syran had never even been in a real fight before today. He watched in suspenseful horror as the two fought. For beasts so big they were lightning fast. Jaws whipped round on long necks and back legs raked exposed bellies with deadly claws. Silver twined with black as the two bodies became one rolling mass of snapping fury.
Turrin couldn't move. He felt scared and helpless. He didn’t want to look but he couldn’t look away. He was trapped by his aching anguish for Syran. An instant later they were gone. The cave was empty. Turrin raced to the ledge in time to see their bodies, still locked together in a deadly embrace, plummeting towards the ground. No one was going to survive that. “Syran please let go,” he whispered, unable to look away. Just before impact the two miraculously parted, two sets of wings snapping open as they swept upwards. But the battle was not over. The black banked, swerving towards Syran, who was trying desperately to gain height. Something was wrong. Turrin could see immediately that one of his wings was not working properly and that there was a huge tear in the other.
The black swept up from below aiming directly for Syran’s chest, but at the last moment, the silver’s wing miraculously powered into action. Swerving, he dived and snatched the black’s neck in both claws. Turrin could hear the impact from where he stood. Syran had been using deception to lure his attacker into a vulnerable position. Hands clenched, bouncing on his toes Turrin almost cheered as the black went limp and dropped like a stone. The big silver watched it fall, unaware of two large, dark shapes that had launched themselves from the shadow shrouded cliff behind.
“Beware!” Turrin screamed. But the warning’s only effect was to pull Syran’s attention towards him and away from the attackers.
“Turrin you are alive!” Syran cried, sounding weary. “What of Yonla?”