Dragon Tears Read online

  He ambled down the riverbank, stuffing his mouth full of berries and cress whenever he happened to find them. He wasn’t paying particular attention to where he was going, and he stumbled over a tree root. As he pulled himself to his feet, he looked around and realized that he had wandered farther away than he’d ever dared to go before. A wall of rock rose up on the other side of the riverbank, blocking his view.

  “By the Great Wizard’s beard,” he whispered to himself, “I must be on the back side of the valley.”

  His stomach tightened into a hard knot and tried to reject the food he had just eaten. He took a deep breath, both to steady himself and to relax his nervous stomach. Settle down, you can get out of this. Somehow I’ve crossed over the borderlands into dragon lands. All I have to do is go back the way I’ve come, and then I’ll be safe.

  But his feet didn’t move.

  He’d never been this close to the possibility of seeing a real dragon. The temptation and the opportunity were too great to pass up. He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought. A glance up at the sun told him how much time remained before sundown. Leaves rustled like the silk of a fine lady’s gown and the sun was getting hot on his face.

  “Okay,” he mumbled. “I’ve got about three sunmarks left. It was just a little past lunchtime when I left, which means I traveled for two sunmarks. That should give me about another mark to keep on exploring, since sundown will happen at about seven sunmarks. As long as I’m back before Wizard Allard knows I’ve been gone, I’m safe.”

  Satisfied with his calculations, he surveyed the rock wall on the opposite riverbank, looking for a way to climb it. The river was shallow at this point, so crossing it would be no problem. The challenge was how to reach the top of the wall. He straightened his shoulders, put a hand on his hip, and studied the rock formations.

  “Well,” he said to himself, “this isn’t getting me anywhere. I guess the fastest way to the top is just straight up.”

  ∞

  Larkin started down the cliff side with small careful steps. He knew he could just fly down, but he still hadn’t gotten his landings correct. He had a habit of bumping his chin and his behind on the ground as he landed, ending up with bruises on both. He’d made this passage before, and he was fairly certain he could do it again, so he picked his way down the slope.

  It didn’t take him long to reach the bottom, and he began to look for a likely place to eat. He’d have to search for food farther away from his secret passage since he’d devoured everything close by. He sighed in resignation and lumbered off into the valley following the riverbank. As long as he was back to sing in the moonrise, his secret would be safe.

  ∞

  Patrik clung to the side of the mountain like a fly on a bottle. He was almost at the top, but there was no way over the ledge above him. He’d have to hold on with one hand and pull himself up with the other. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough. He clung there, gasping for breath, wondering what to do next. He needed to do something quick because he was losing his grip. His fingers began to slip, and in desperation, he reached over the ledge with his right hand and grabbed the first thing he found. It came loose, and he dangled wildly from the ledge. He flung himself back toward the rock face, his right hand again reaching over the rock lip. This time he grabbed hold of something solid, and pushing his muscles to their limit, he pulled himself onto the outcropping.

  He lay there, panting and shaking, too fearful to move. He got his breath back after several moments, and pulled himself to his feet. His legs wobbled and his arms felt as if he had just chopped a whole cord of firewood with a dull axe. But as he looked around, he forgot both his fears and his weariness. Below him, on the edge of the riverbank, something large and green was lumbering away. He rubbed his eyes.

  “Wizard’s fire,” he whispered. “It was a dragon. I know it was.”

  He folded his legs beneath him, and sat on the ledge, cursing his luck. By the time he got down, the dragon would be too far away for him to catch up to it. He peered over the edge and sighed.

  “Flame it all, now I’ve got to climb down this pile of rocks.”

  He glanced up at the sky, and sighed. It had taken him longer to climb the rock wall than he figured it would. Now, he’d not only have to go without dinner, he’d be in for a lecture.

  As he began the descent, one thought kept his spirits up. At least I got to see the tail end of a dragon. Next time, maybe, I’ll get to meet one face to face.

  Chapter Two

  Larkin flapped his wings, jumped as high as he could, and landed on the valley floor in a heap of green scales, legs, and wings. He blew out a disgusted breath and looked up at the ledge in front of his secret passageway. The dragon knew he couldn’t climb back up the same way he’d come down; he was too big and awkward. He’d have to fly, and he needed to do it quickly, as the sun was almost down.

  He backed up and ran as fast as his short legs would let him, flapping his wings with wild strokes. He could hear Falconwing’s voice in his mind. “You look like a giant turkey with all that flapping you do. You’re supposed to flap once or twice and then push yourself up from the ground.” Larkin snorted. He had no idea what a turkey was, but he was sure his flying instructor wasn’t complimenting him.

  This time he managed to get airborne for a minute before crashing. He backed up again, flapped his wings, and pushed off hard. A gust of wind caught his open wings and propelled him upward and away from the rock ledge. He turned his head in the direction he wanted to go and managed to steer himself to the ledge. An overhanging rock caught him on the chin and scraped his jaw. He ignored the blood that dripped from the cut as he back-winged down to the ledge.

  The dragon folded his wings behind his body and prepared to squeeze through the narrow passageway, when a strange aroma hit him. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. Animal, for sure, but not any animal I know of.

  He lowered his snout and sniffed. The scent was strongest on the edges of the rock shelf. He searched the entire outcropping for some clue and found nothing. Larkin’s interest in the mystery was cut short by a bugle call. Moonrise was fast approaching and he needed to get home.

  The young dragon pushed through the opening, rushed to his collection of emeralds, and scooped them up in his mouth. He deposited them in the cave of the brood mother, and hurried to the council arena.

  “The sunset is lovely this evening,” he overhead an elder dragon say.

  “Indeed,” another dragon replied, as their plodding footsteps led up the rock stairway.

  Relief flooded Larkin like sunshine on a winter day as he realized he was not the last one to arrive.

  Eaglesong, the oldest, and therefore the wisest and most respected dragon, stood on a rock that jutted out from the council meeting ground. Carved from the side of the mountain, ages ago, the arena was large enough to hold the entire brood. Dragons of every color, except white and black, gathered in the waning sunlight. They waited with heads held high anticipating the arrival of night.

  A cream-colored moon crept over the horizon, and Eaglesong greeted it with a single bugle note. The others joined their leader, raising their own song in welcoming the guardian of the night sky.

  “We greet thee, Guardian of the Night.”

  “We welcome thee and thy light.”

  “Bringing peace to the sun, let thy will be done.”

  “For evening has once again come.”

  Larkin’s clear, young tenor rang above the others. High, sweet, and pure, the other voices soon dropped away, to let the youngest dragon herald in the night.

  As he sang to the evening sky, Larkin felt all the disappointments and failures of the day fall away. Here, as he sang, he was not only an equal, but better than the others. For none could match the beauty of his song.

  He sang his last note and dropped his head, knowing that he had done the best he could and that it was still, as always, better than the others.

  “Lovely as always,” he heard
a pale pink dragonet say, and the adolescent lilac dragon walking with her agreed. Yet, not one word was said directly to him as they returned to their dens.

  It doesn’t matter what they say. I may not be able to roar or fly very well, but I can sing in the sun and the moon better than anyone.

  A toothy grin cracked his scaly face. Singing was the only time he felt equal to the others, the only time he felt he contributed to the brood. And, at least for a few minutes, he felt worthy to be called a dragon.

  ∞

  Excitement filled Patrik’s steps as he ran back to the wizard’s cabin. Even knowing that a lecture awaited him couldn’t dim his enthusiasm. He had seen a dragon for the first time, and next time he planned to see more than just a glimpse. He knew where to look for them now, and he didn’t plan to let anything stop him from finding out more.

  It was almost dark and the moon had just risen by the time he opened the cabin door. Kindling still covered the floor but the wizard was not waiting for him as he expected. A light in the study told Patrik that his master was still engrossed in his work.

  Patrik gathered up the scattered kindling and neatly stacked it near the fireplace while wondering what could keep the wizard so occupied. Their normal daily routine of breakfast, followed by magic lessons, followed by chores, and then lunch, after which the wizard locked himself in his study until sundown, had not changed in the two seasons he had been apprenticed to the wizard.

  A small chill of worry crept up Patrik’s spine, causing him to shiver. Whatever it is, it must be important, he thought. I wonder if he’s planning to cast some type of spell on me as punishment.

  This thought prompted Patrik to hurry through the rest of his chores. He laid the fire to be lit by the wizard’s magic. The huge fireplace dominated one wall of the kitchen. Its other walls were lined with shelves from which scrolls and parchments lay in untidy heaps. It was much the same in the rest of the cabin. Every wall, chair, or table was covered with scrolls or parchments. Finding a place to sit required moving them aside usually to form another messy pile. The only room not swimming in scrolls was Patrik’s small bedroom at the back of the cabin.

  Patrik set the table, his growing fear tying his stomach in knots as he realized the wizard hadn’t even bothered to start dinner. He turned down the quilt on the wizard’s bed, after first removing yet another pile of scrolls and parchments. When the door to the study finally opened, Patrik couldn’t decide if he was relieved or even more frightened.

  Wizard Allard walked into the kitchen, carrying a lamp in one hand and a scroll in the other. He barely glanced at the boy as he set both items on the table. “Come here, Patrik, I have something to say to you.”

  Thick lines of concentration creased the wizard’s bald forehead. The boy steeled himself for the worst. Worse than that was the frown on the wizard’s face. Allard’s eyes showed extreme displeasure.

  “Sit down.”

  Patrik pulled out a chair and sat opposite the wizard, trying hard not to show his nervousness. Usually, the wizard got angry, yelled at him, and then quickly calmed down. But Allard’s carefully controlled manner made the boy more frightened by the sunmark.

  The wizard looked down at the scroll he carried, studying it, and ignoring Patrik.

  The boy knew the worst had come. The wizard was studying a spell. He was going to give him a case of hives or boils, or turn him into something terrible or…Patrik couldn’t think of anything worse.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be…”

  “Patrik, the king’s messenger arrived today,” Wizard Allard interrupted. “All Magicians of the First Order are called to war. The king has decided to launch a full-out attack on the dragons’ lairs. All Magicians of the Second and Third Orders are also being called out to support the troops, even those with minimal magic powers.

  Patrik couldn’t help but sigh with relief and then almost immediately he felt guilty about it. People will die. Dragons will die.

  “But why?” he asked at last.

  “I’ve been pondering that question all afternoon. According to this message,” he held up the scroll, “the king has decided the time has come to rid the world of all dragons once and forever.”

  The boy thought for a minute, “But that still doesn’t explain why.”

  “Exactly,” said the wizard, “and that’s what concerns me.”

  Allard rose and began pacing the room, his long robes flowing out behind him. “We’ve always had border skirmishes: an occasional sheep that’s gone missing or a cow that’s lost her milk because of a dragon getting too close. Farmers mount up a raid on one of their dens, and it’s over. There’s been this sort of almost peace for centuries now. This doesn’t make any sense. Something’s wrong, and I can’t figure out what’s really going on.”

  The magician, as if noticing for the first time that the fire wasn’t lit, flicked a finger toward it. Warming flames rose from the kindling, and Patrik hurried over to tend them.

  “As you know,” the wizard continued, without even looking at the fire or Patrik, “I am a wizard, skilled in all the arts of magic, higher even than your mother and father.” He didn’t wait for Patrik’s agreement but continued as if thinking aloud. “Therefore, I answer to no one, not even the king. However, this concerns me. War is not healthy, for anyone. I do not think the king has considered this carefully enough.”

  “Therefore…” Finally he turned to look at Patrik, and said, “I plan to pay him a visit.”

  Patrik dropped the log he’d been carrying to the fireplace. “What?”

  “Exactly, we will leave in the morning.”

  ∞

  Larkin followed the others back to his cave, the evening song still ringing in his ears. Too bad they don’t give out rewards for singing. If they did, my cave would be covered with jewels. He shrugged his shoulders, making his footsteps hop a little. Oh well, maybe someday I’ll do something important, and then they’ll have to notice me. Maybe I’ll fly away from here and discover a new land, or a new species of dragons.

  That thought made him remember the unusual scent he had discovered on his ledge. “I wonder what it was?” he mumbled to himself. “I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

  He felt the brush of wings against his side and jumped at the unexpected touch. Redwing, a red dragon lowered her snout in the universal sign of greeting. He dropped his snout to hers, acknowledging her presence. “Redwing?” he asked, pleased with himself for remembering her name.

  “Hi, Larkin. I just wanted to say that I thought you sang beautifully tonight.”

  A blush of pleasure crept into his face and his eyes whirled like a kaleidoscope. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to say.

  “May I walk with you?”

  He stopped and turned to look at her. “Aren’t you afraid what the others might say?”

  She shrugged, her wings flapping a little as she did so. “I really don’t care. They’re wrong to pick on you so much. You’re just different, that’s all. And by my flame, there’s nothing wrong with being different.”

  She turned her head toward him as he snorted in disbelief. They were walking side by side down the tunnel that led to his cave, her head and shoulders standing about a snout-span taller than his, even though she had hatched a half a moon later.

  “Don’t let them bother you,” she said, her yellow eyes, tinged brown with concern and sparkling with earnestness. “Everyone is different in some way or another. That’s the way the great Skyhawk made us. We’re not all supposed to be the same.”

  Larkin nodded in silence, not knowing what to say. They reached his cave and she followed him inside. “It’s cold in here,” she said. “You want me to light your firestones?”

  Again, Larkin could only nod. He had gathered the firestones, just like every dragon did, but his remained unlit because he still hadn’t learned how to flame. No one had ever offered to light them for him, not even his brood mother.

  “Thanks,” he said, as the s
tones glowed red and their warmth began to spread throughout his den.

  Redwing turned to leave. “Good-night, Larkin. I can’t wait to hear you sing in the sunrise.”

  He watched her go, her long red tail trailing out the mouth of his cave. The small dragon curled up next to the firestones, feeling the heat soak through his body. With his tail wrapped around him, he rested his nose down on his forelegs and closed his eyes. But sleep wouldn’t come.

  The things she’d said kept echoing in his mind. He’d always thought he needed to be like the others. It had never occurred to him that being different might be a good thing. He wasn’t sure if he believed it or not, but it made him feel good to think that it might be true. It also made him happier to think he might have found a friend. Maybe she might recognize the strange smell on the ledge outside his secret passageway. But as soon as the thought entered his head, he dismissed it. Best to keep his secrets to himself.

  ∞

  “But we can’t leave tomorrow!”

  “Why ever not?” asked the wizard.

  “Because…” Patrik paused, thinking. He couldn’t tell the wizard about the dragon he’d seen or his plans to follow it back to its den. “Because we aren’t ready,” he said at last.

  “Nonsense. We can pack tonight and be ready in the morning, and besides, those lazy hay-burners need the exercise.”

  Patrik couldn’t suppress a groan. It was a three-day ride by horseback to the royal city: three days there and three days back, almost a whole week. By that time, the dragon could be long gone.

  The wizard stared at his apprentice with a quizzical look on his face. “What is it boy? You’d think I’d told you to water the horses with a thimble.”