Dragon Tears Page 4

  “It’s not safe, you know. Someone who has magic might come along and then you’d be in real trouble. They’re all afraid of you and think you want to eat them.”

  “How come you’re not afraid?”

  “I was when I first saw you, but…I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to see a dragon and maybe make friends with one.”

  “Oh. Do you know why we can understand each other?”

  “Don’t know that either. It is strange, isn’t it?”

  “Friends?” asked the dragon, as if he had just realized what Patrik had said.

  “Sure, why not? My name’s Patrik. What’s yours?”

  The dragon was silent for a moment, puzzling over this new idea. Friends with a human. That wouldn’t go over very well with the council of elders. But then again, I don’t have to tell them, do I? “Okay,” he said at last, “and you can call me Larkin.”

  The dragon glanced up at the sun, and his massive shoulders slunk farther toward the ground. “It’s getting late, and I still don’t know how to get back. If I don’t return in time to sing in the moonrise I’ll be in big trouble.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Patrik said.

  “How? Do you know how to fly, too?”

  “Of course not. Humans can’t fly, but I can think, can’t I? What exactly went wrong when you were soaring?”

  Larkin explained how he had used the currents to fly so far from home, and how his wings were too small to flap all the way back.

  “That’s easy,” Patrik said, “you just take the trip back in short hops. Flying until you get tired, then landing and resting for a while until you are strong enough to fly again.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” asked the exasperated dragon.

  “I don’t know,” Patrik said. “But I do know you better get started before you are discovered.”

  Rat emerged from the bushes where she’d been hiding. Her tail was still puffed out like a bottlebrush, but she wasn’t growling and spitting anymore. Patrik reached down a hand and scratched her ears, letting her know that everything was okay.

  “Never seen an animal quite like that,” Larkin said.

  “Neither have I. She’s one of a kind.”

  “Well, I better get going. It’s going to take a while to get home. Longer than it took to get here.”

  “Hey, when can I see you again?”

  Larkin had been backing up, getting ready to take off, but he paused, thinking. “You know the valley behind the mountains?”

  Patrik nodded.

  “I go there every afternoon to eat. You can meet me there.”

  “I’ll be there,” Patrik said with a smile.

  Chapter Four

  “What happened to you?” Larkin asked Redwing, his tone more than a little cranky.

  “I’m sorry, Larkin. One of the elders called me back, and I had to turn around.”

  “Well, I got stuck flying in the wrong direction and didn’t know how to get back.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get to the part about crosscurrents. That’s how you fly against a current. We’ll do that today. Okay?”

  The morning sun shone down on their brilliant bodies, each scale shining like a bright jewel. They walked side by side to the council area. Larkin’s grumpy mood subsided a little with Redwing’s promise of another flying lesson. “Okay,” he said at last.

  “History, this morning,” Redwing said, her lower jaw curling down into the dragon equivalent of a frown.

  “That’s great news. I love history.”

  “You’re very strange. Did anybody ever tell you that before?”

  “Lots of times.” His jaw curved down in a frown that matched hers. “But that’s okay. I’m used to it.”

  “I was only teasing. I like you just the way you are.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. You’re different. You think about things and that makes you interesting to talk to. Not like the others, who only talk about how fast or how far they can fly.”

  They found places in the large council area, spreading out their wings to catch every bit of the warm morning sun. The large arena had been carved out of the mountainside by countless dragons over the ages. Its flat landing area could easily hold two hundred dragons, although only a few fledglings were gathered there now. Other dragonets soon joined them, their scales gleaming like rare and precious stones in the last brilliant flashes of the setting sun.

  A hush went through the crowd as the elder dragon climbed up the rocks that served as a speaking platform. “Today,” he began, “we will learn the history of dragons and humans, and how they became enemies forever.”

  Larkin stirred, shifting positions, as he thought about his recent encounter with Patrik. “If he’s my enemy, I’ll eat my firestones,” he mumbled.

  “What did you say?” Redwing asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He settled down to listen, one-half of his mind on the elder’s words, and the other part on Patrik.

  “Before time began,” started the elder, “the great white dragon king, Skyhawk, used his powers to create the heavens and the earth and all that was in them. In his great wisdom he also created two races of people, the dragons and the humans.”

  Larkin inched his way closer to the speaker. He’d never heard this particular lesson and he didn’t want to miss a thing. Unlike the other dragonets that would rather practice their flying and flaming skills, Larkin loved learning about dragon and human history.

  “He created the races equal but different,” the elder continued. “To the dragons he gave the power of flight and fire. To the humans he gave cleverness and hands to do their work. Skyhawk’s plan was that the two races should be a help to each other. Each doing for the other what they couldn’t do for themselves.”

  Larkin thought on this for a moment. I wonder what hands are?

  Larkin raised his foreleg.

  “Yes, Larkin, you have a question?”

  “What are hands, and how did they understand each other? Did they speak the same language?”

  “Those are very good questions. Yes, Skyhawk created both races with the same language. Hands are like your forelegs. But instead of claws, they have tiny little stubs. Now, I know that sounds strange, but the little stubs are very flexible and allow humans to pick up and use things in ways claws can’t.”

  Larkin lowered his own claw and sat back on his haunches. How very odd. But that’s what he had seen on Patrik, so he knew he understood it better than the others.

  “For many years, Skyhawk’s plan worked as he thought it would. Humans built things for the dragons, and dragons gave humans fire and transported them where they needed to go. Dragons and humans learned from each other, respected each other, and lived together in peace just the way the great Skyhawk had planned it.

  “But, one day, a dragon named Darkheart appeared. Darkheart was a magic user.”

  Almost every single dragon gasped in shock. A dragon who used magic, it couldn’t be. Claws shot up like dozens of tiny swords to ask questions as the dragonets tried to understand how such a thing could happen.

  The elder raised his own foreleg to forestall them.

  “Now, hear me out,” he shouted, over their mutterings and rumblings. “Our great Skyhawk was also a magic user.”

  Although history was a regular subject, this particular revelation had never been discussed and the uproar this statement caused nearly brought down the rocks on the cavern roof. The elder bellowed a roar that immediately silenced the dragonets.

  “Let me explain.”

  All the dragonets focused their attention on the elder, including Larkin.

  “In the time before time, only two dragons existed, Skyhawk and Darkheart. They have always been here without beginning. Where, we do not know, but they are still there watching us, and sometimes Skyhawk helps us.

  “Skyhawk created us because he was lonely for others of his kind. He created humans for the same reason, to be companions for the dragons and
for each other. He used a different type of magic than the kind we know today. His magic worked with the natural order of things. It did not distort what was good, it simply made what was good even better.

  “Darkheart, however, was jealous of these new races. He didn’t want to share Skyhawk’s creation with anyone. He devised a plan to rid the world of both races using his type of magic, the kind we know today. The kind that takes what is good and turns it into something else, something that has no right to exist, something evil.

  “Darkheart went to the dragons first, and offered to make them magic users. But Skyhawk had already explained the dangers of using magic. So the dragons turned down the offer.”

  Every single dragonet was paying attention to the elder’s words.

  “Darkheart then went to the humans. He found one man who was willing to become a magic user. This man was different from other humans. He did not like dragons, did not want their help. He believed humans should be independent of dragons.”

  The dragonets’ heads were all stretched out toward the elder waiting to hear what happened next.

  “This man taught magic to others. They learned how to start fires and how to transport themselves. They began to think humans were better than the dragons, and they no longer needed them. It wasn’t long before dragons and humans began fighting over who owned the land. And it wasn’t that long until magic spread through the entire human race, changing them forever into something evil.”

  Larkin looked down at the rock floor for a moment, thinking. He scratched one of his head ridges with a claw. Dragons are good, and humans are evil because they use magic. “So if a human isn’t a magic user, then he would be good?” Larkin didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until the elder blasted him with his hot breath.

  A deep gray blush crept up the elder’s long snout as he addressed Larkin personally. “There are no good humans. They are all magic users, and they are all evil. Even you should be able to understand that!”

  Larkin hung his head in shame. He had not meant to call attention to himself by asking a stupid question. The other dragonets snickered.

  “Enough,” roared the elder, gaining their immediate attention. “There is one more thing you need to know. When Skyhawk saw the ruin of his great creation, he put a plan into effect that would one day reunite the races. This plan, which we call the Prophecy, will be fulfilled when there is one born who is pure in heart and pure in action. According to this foretelling, that dragon will right what has gone wrong with the world.”

  The elder cleared his throat. “That is the end of this lesson for today. Falconwing is waiting to oversee your flying lessons. Please meet him at the council arena.”

  Larkin tagged along behind the others, deep in thought. He knew, deep down inside, that Patrik was not evil. But on the other claw, the elders were never wrong. At least they hadn’t been until now. Something wasn’t right, and Larkin was determined to find out what it was.

  ∞

  Wizard Allard had been so drained by the magic he had used to transport himself to the royal city and back that Patrik had to help him to bed. His master collapsed in a heap of purple robes onto the feather mattress, and was asleep before Patrik could pull off his boots.

  The boy watched him sleep, his mind full of questions, but knowing he’d have to wait until morning for the answers. There was no way to avoid the exhaustion caused by using that type of magic. Larkin pondered the wizard’s explanation.

  “Everything in the world has magical energy,” the older man had stated. “Some things have a lot, and some things have a little. A blade of grass, for example, only has a pinprick of energy, but a living being, such as a horse, has a lot. People have the most magical energy.” The wizard paused, seeking simple words to explain the complex principle.

  “When we use magic, we tap into that energy, much like a water well. You drill a well, pump hard, and the water comes up. Magic works on the same principle. You see in your mind what you want to do, then pull the magical energy in to make it happen. Magicians of the First Order have learned to use energy from other sources as well as their own. Wizards, such as myself, can tap magical power from anything.”

  “However,” the man pointed a finger at Patrik, “you always have to use your own magic first. Really difficult or complicated magic leaves the user drained and exhausted.”

  Allard stared out the window for a second before continuing. “Nothing gives up their magical energy freely. It requires a sacrifice of giving your magical energies to others first, then you can draw in energy from other things. Once this channel of giving and taking is established, you can then use the power from other things.”

  The wizard paused as if searching for words. “Every magic user has to surrender part of himself to the power of the magic, if he doesn’t the magic won’t work.”

  As Patrik recalled the wizard’s explanation, he fell asleep wondering if that was why he had no magic. Maybe, I’ve never learned how to give my magical energies to others.

  Sleep claimed him with that thought on his mind.

  In the morning, Patrik awoke the wizard, another sign of how exhausted his master was, as Allard always up before Patrik. The boy lit a fire, using flint and iron, and set a pot of porridge on to cook. He knocked at the wizard’s door, and then pushed it open.

  “I’m up, boy,” the wizard said in a grumpy tone.

  “Would you like some tea?”

  “Yes, that would be good, as I’m still in no shape to get it myself.”

  The boy only needed to take one look at the sharp lines of fatigue on his master’s face to know that the wizard spoke the truth. He hurried to the kitchen to fetch the magician’s morning cup of tea. Anxious to find out what happened in the royal city, he wasted no time in setting a kettle on the fire. When the water was ready, he poured it over the herbs and carried it to the man’s bedside.

  The boy’s master sipped in silence for a few minutes while Patrik stood at the side of his bed.

  “That’s better,” Allard said at last. He turned to look at his apprentice. “I suppose you want to know what happened?”

  Patrik nodded.

  “Nothing, absolutely nothing happened. I wasted my time and energy trying to convince the king not to make war on the dragons.”

  He held out his mug for more tea and Patrik scurried to the kitchen to get it.

  “Why?” Patrik asked, returning with a fresh cup.

  “I’m not sure. The king has always listened to me in the past, always respected my opinion. But not this time.” Allard frowned. “I think it had something to do with his new advisor.”

  “New advisor?”

  “Yes, a man named Blackwell. Every time I made a suggestion to the king, this man would whisper something in his ear. I was too far away to hear what he said, but I’d be willing to bet all the dragon jewels in the world that he was counseling the king to go to war.”

  Patrik thought about his new friend and shuddered. He couldn’t imagine going to war against the beautiful, thoughtful creature he had met.

  “Wizard Allard,” Patrik began.

  “Yes?”

  “Could you tell me why you don’t want to make war on the dragons when everybody else does?”

  Allard smiled, and patted the side of his bed. “That, my boy, is a very long story. But it’s time you knew the truth. Sit down here, and I’ll tell it to you.”

  Chapter Five

  Larkin couldn’t concentrate and his flying reflected his lack of attention. The dragon’s thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion as he tried to determine if the human, Patrik, was evil as he’d been told. With his mind on other things, his flying lessons were suffering as a result.

  “I told you, close your left wing halfway and extend the right one as far as it will go,” Redwing snapped, unable to hide her frustration any longer.

  Larkin tried the exercise again, making a conscious effort to keep his mind on the task at hand. It worked, and he caught the crosscurrent t
hat turned him around and headed him back toward the council arena.

  “There, that’s how it’s done,” Redwing said, as she flew next to his right shoulder.

  Larkin gave her a toothy grin, curling back his upper jaw to expose a row of pointed, dagger-like teeth. The crosscurrent kept them soaring in the right direction, and it wasn’t long before they could see the council arena beneath them.

  “I have guard duty this afternoon,” Redwing said in a voice that was mostly a groan.

  “I’m sorry,” Larkin replied. All the dragonets hated guard duty. They weren’t allowed to sleep on duty, they weren’t allowed to leave the lookout post, and for over a hundred seasons nothing had ever happened that had made guard duty necessary. Yet the elders insisted that a sentry be on duty twenty-four sunmarks a day, and the unpleasant and boring task always fell to the dragonets.

  “At least it’s not in the middle of the night,” Larkin offered.

  “I guess. I suppose that would be worse.”

  “It is, believe me it is,” Larkin said, his tone telling her that he had experienced many long nights without sleep, standing guard over an empty valley.

  They circled the council arena several times, Larkin practicing how to catch the crosscurrents in order to make the turns necessary to fly back home. Redwing watched his technique, and when she was satisfied that he knew what he was doing, signaled that they should land. She couldn’t hide her smile of amusement as Larkin landed in his usual bump and scrape of green wings, jaw and tail.

  “Next time, we’ll practice your landing,” she said, coming to a graceful stop beside him. “I have to go now or the elders will chew my scales off for being late.”

  Larkin watched her go, half-glad and half-sorry to see her leave. He really liked her, but he wasn’t ready to tell her about the human he had met. As her tail disappeared from view, he headed toward the caves and his secret passageway.

  ∞

  “Help me up, boy. I want to sit by the fire.”

  Larkin rushed to his master’s side, pulling back the warm, multicolored quilts, and allowing the man to lean on him. Allard wasn’t that old, but the transport spell had completely drained him. He was as weak and helpless as a newborn kitten and would remain that way for at least another day.