Outbreak to the sky
==============================================================================




To know your friends
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Weightless elation, the soothing cold breeze catching in my hair under a
flawless blue sphere, the sky, the world being so small, so distant! Flying,
soaring, higher and higher without constraints! Direction losing its meaning,
no up, no down anymore in my serene solitude on the edge of eternity where
the universe ends, to meet the stars, and keep going towards...

A sudden grasp, gasping, falling, I kick out wild, pain, excruciating pain!

Blast it, cramp! Again! I hastily gather loose fragments of my mind lost in
the dream, concentrate, stretch. My calf is shooting, the bed sheets are
nowhere to be seen. So vivid, so real... and waking up again.


Tikira, this modest port town of the Mera, a trading hub, is a bare, probably
outright boring place to be where nothing seems to ever happen. Our events are
the tales of merchants, gossips telling about a world far far away,
desperately out of our commonfolk reach. A prospect of eternal plodding on
the fields, some small guilds serving the locals, the port, and about that's
all. Rumors fly, tales keep teasing, traveling, trading, places called
universities of impressive knowledge, sky-high palaces of the extravagant
nobility, balls, tournaments, unfathomable riches, knights and... Dragons.

Here everything is utilitarian. Even our nobility is straight utilitarian,
calculating, carefully planning the purpose for every penny. There is not a
single ornament in the rich quarters. You could walk down the main street and
feel a slight uneasiness, almost foreboding even under daylight which only
gets worse with time. Most don't even live here, just have a parlor, a trading
post established in town. The only somewhat welcoming district is the center,
the City Hall and the establishments of the council and bureaucracy. There, on
the town square, lies the market and the post office.

That's the place of our dreams. There is hardly any boy and even girl in the
entire city who wouldn't ever dream of becoming a Messenger. That's the place
where the dragons land.


I still remember the first time my mother brought me there, to dictate a
telegraph, that uncommon expensive type of mail when one writes a response at
the office to be delivered by nightfall. Those were hard times, that was when
she finally divorced my father who left her. Her confused sorrow seeped in me.
I didn't understand that then as a young kid, only the mood, that something
was not all right since long.

We were walking in silence through the gloomy streets towards the Center
district. To step out from the alleys, into the open square lined with the
Hall and other communal buildings, with the bustling market in the farther
end was always relieving, like ascending from a moldy cellar into the
sunlight. But that time, that day there was something more there. It was huge.
It was alive, a glimmering brass monument, a giant which was laying there. I
couldn't take my eyes off of it. It wasn't scary, no, it was mesmerizing,
magic, a fairy tale which seemed to descend from the sky, an unnatural wonder
to blossom from the grounds of dusty reality!

The place was bustling with people, something new. There were horses there,
packages passed forth and back, officers working, scribes scribing, everyone
busy doing something, and I was lost in that swirl, gazing. I couldn't take my
eyes off of it. Slowly, I stumbled forward, step by step, lumbering, barely
standing until suddenly I felt a harsh grip on my shoulder. "Loony brat, stand
back!". Then a crass jolt abruptly ended my hazed experience.


I wanted to see it again, the live giant. I kept persuading Mother to talk
about them, the "brass wyvern" as I could learn, the Messengers, who deliver
mail and packages between cities many weeks of land travel apart in a mere
day. I clung on her, making her promise to always let me to tag along when she
had to send a "telegraph". In retrospect that was a rude thing from my young
boy self. I couldn't understand it back then, I hardly had any memory of
Father. Maybe I wouldn't even be able to imagine what is it like to have one.
He was torturing Mother with that telegraphing. She cried, she wept
sometimes even when leaving the Center square, which I failed to notice
mesmerized by the dragon. I was terrible.

When we were there, I always wanted to get closer, to shut off the swirl of
people around, to see him, but I couldn't. Most times, Mother held my hand,
worrying about me, knowing how my mind was hazed by the giant's presence. When
I could slip out, I was still always blocked, sometimes grabbed by rude hands,
once even kicked in the butt which I swear felt for days, but I didn't care.
My want to be there overrode every rule of sanity.


Sometime later I had to start school. Mother insisted, to be someone, I must
learn. Today, I appreciate, however that day, I dreaded it. It meant spending
weekdays there, being all pedant, and the weekends out in the fields, helping
in tending the crops, and even when there was neither to do, it was homework.
It wasn't something to joke about. Those teachers were mean, flogging was the
penalty for not having everything done. Among other severe things, it pretty
much felt like it was over for watching dragons on the town square.

A few months in school however got me some friends, of whom the most important
was Jacob for he was also obsessed with Messengers. He knew their schedule,
revealing that there are three cities, Drino, Jala and Ursus with which we
had regular weekly air mail connection, each on a different day. Mother was
dictating telegraphs to Jala, the wyvern from this city and Ursus came with
their riders who didn't let people near them. That from Drino however flew
without anyone on his back, and so, nobody was there to zealously cut off
every attempt of interaction! This information was exhilarating!

The only problem was that it was Wednesday, school. Jacob however had that
also planned out.


So on a nice Wednesday we ended up on the town square near noon obviously with
our school stuff as we should have been there. People were already gathering,
some horses tied to the posts, bags of mail from nearby towns were passed from
officer to officer in preparation for delivery to Drino. Soon, Jacob noticed
the wyvern's form on the sky, pointed me towards that to let me see him flying
the first time!

I was awestruck, couldn't stop watching until with sweeping flaps swirling up
a huge cloud of dust he landed. He had a large bag of mail harnessed in front
of his chest which was shortly detached, and really nothing else. He came
alone. It didn't look unusual to me then since I couldn't recognize the
Messengers even before, but it was reassuring to know, at least as Jacob
insisted, that nobody would kick my sorry butt then.

It was different from before. The magnificent giant helped himself with some
water from a barrel, then padded a bit away from the officers who got busy
working, and after a gargantuan stretch, laid down on his chest watching
people, and as I noticed, even some other kids gathering. First was a man with
a boy - oh, wish I had a father! - the man gave a package to his child who
shredded it with glee, it was meat, some real meat, my mouth watered! The boy
however held it up high with a smile, the gigantic glimmering head coming down
over him, barely opening the jaws, taking the gift with utmost care. The
father patted the cheeks, before with a delighted motion the giant sprung his
neck back to let the tiny offer slide away with a few ceremonial tongue
flicks.

The ritual continued, many brought similar small pieces of food, and he took
every one of those showing his appreciation in various manners, not so grand
like the first was, but still very much pleased, letting people to touch, to
pat him. My mind gone numb to all this impression. All that food, and all this
huge dragon, just out of reach! I grabbed my friend's hand, and demanded
whether we could get nearer, whether he would let us without a gift!

To my abashment, Jacob pulled out a package from his school bag. He could get
meat somehow! It was amazing. I was shivering to the thought what this meant,
that we now could... That we now could walk over there, towards, under that
towering brass head, and he would accept! I could barely place my feet, to
force myself walk, shaken. I still vividly remember how Jacob held out his
offer there, to the giant, coming down over us, those yellow slit-eyes of the
size of mugs, the jaw wider than our chest which barely opened to clench on
the meat which could have been a meal for me, but a morsel for him! Then the
tips of the forked tongue jutted out, and it vanished like if never were.
Then, as he tasted and swallowed with eyelids narrowed, pleased, he licked me!

It was maybe accidental, but there it was too much for my weak, shaken
overimpulsed mind. The last thing I remember his arm-thick slimy warm tongue
pressing tight to my face before everything went dark. Jacob told me later
that I passed out flat, and he had some trouble explaining what happened while
the poor wyvern was carefully nudging me in confusion. So, I didn't manage to
touch a dragon then. Rather, I was touched by one, for real.


Of course, reprehension had to came, manifesting itself in excruciatingly
throbbing red streaks lining my hopelessly stiffened back, which even if I
could have any hope that my instructors wouldn't report, would give me away
anywhere for I could barely even walk.

It wasn't the worst of all. The worst came at home. I realized how terribly I
wronged Mother with this little adventure of mine. I couldn't know then what
the harshness of life meant, growing up being some hazy distant prospect
still shrouded with dreams of traveling, exploring unknown worlds meeting
knights and dragons, but then, I could feel something terrible, something very
wrong forming a lump in my throat.

My uneasiness was only stirred further when I came to realize that Jacob
didn't get the same enlightening treatment like me, while he was just there
the same way. It wasn't right, not like I wished him to suffer that, but my
sense of justice yelled out its protests somewhere deep down. I came to
realize the world is maybe not that simple I thought until then.


I resolved to be right, to study hard, and kept that resolution despite how
the memory of the Drino Messenger kept returning, despite how my friend kept
teasing me in hopes for another such adventure. I didn't sway. It was hard. We
used every holiday which happened to fall on Wednesday to visit the wyvern,
Jacob always having a treat to offer.

A few years later school got a bit less stringent, giving a few allowances in
every semester which we could use as long as we could demonstrate later that
we learned the missed lessons. Of course with us, those all happened to be
taken out at Wednesday noons.

It always went in the same way. Usually when we arrived, he already rested,
the initial rush over, only some people watching him in silence, a few
grooming him, and children playing by his huge wings. Jacob approached first
with his gift which he always took with the same pleasant delight
ceremonially expressing it with a few tongue flicks licking his chops, then
we stayed, just enjoying his magnificence, dreaming of a future flying.

As time passed, however, our friendship seemed to erode. Jacob came to have a
slightly haughty attitude which I got to feel even among us. Then, one day,
about time for an allowance, he told me he wants to go alone. He refused to
explain why, but promised he would give me a treat for my time, which he kept.


So the first time came when I was alone, the packaged meat in my bag, it even
crossed my mind whether I should take it home, whether it would be the right
thing to do instead of pursuing my dream. I dismissed that, I simply felt I
couldn't bear canceling the opportunity.

The giant's head so descended upon me then, my hands, carefully pulling away
the offer. I was astounded to feel no yanking, not even the slightest force,
just a very gentle pull as I let it slide away. He meticulously tasted with
nearly closed eyes, the tongue jutting out for a few licks. I watched him in
revered silence, slowly letting my arms descend, an undulating of his dewlap
telling he swallowed. Then, all of sudden, I felt the warm slimy tongue
pressing against my face! It was over in strange short moment leaving me
bewildered, his muzzle now hovering very close. Unsure, I carefully raised my
hands, placing a palm between his nostrils, gently stroking him.

It was something unusual. Before it was like he appreciated my grooming just
like everyone else's who approached him, but now he turned his attention
specifically to me! I felt my very essence melting, a dragon acknowledging my
very presence, for a moment lifting me from the crowd!

I felt the smooth surface, the softness under his jaws, the texture of the
scales while he slowly allowed his head to descend, straightening the arch of
his neck, raising the three rows of ornamental spikes over the spine. I found
myself standing just behind his jaws, my hands just sliding in the recess
where they ended. He however twisted to turn the top of his head towards me,
shaking a bit. I understood he wishes me to find a spot. I reached for his
ridge, pushing my hands in, under the three spikes wider than my palm each
adorning his head, trying to feel, thinking he probably can't even reach there
by himself.

My thought was right, as I started massaging him there, content, he laid flat
on the ground, eyes shut in pleasure. It felt so rewarding, warmth engulfing
my being to realize I can make this connection, how he likes it! I was barely
aware of where I was, the bustling town square with all the people.


A pat on my shoulder shook me up. It came from a slender, tall man I didn't
recognize, startling me, and also the Messenger. With a gesture, he reached
out for the wyvern's muzzle, gently resting his palm on the side, slowly
stroking down to the dewlap, working his fingers behind the jaws, until the
delighted giant finally came to rest between us.

He started to talk, in a silent, maybe even a bit hazed voice. "There is...
something I hadn't seen since... You will... Let me tell you some...". He
grabbed my hand, carefully leading it back under a spike, while he
meticulously gave brief massages one by one for each. "This is the most
important for she can't access here. Feel, cure if necessary and she will be
grateful". With a sudden move, he rolled himself across the thick neck to my
side, to my surprise, not even causing the dragon twitch. One hand still under
the ridge, he slid the other down to stroke gently, but firmly pressing in the
flesh, the underside. "Most like it, and it helps if you need to give her
something uneasy". I could notice the motions of a swallow. "Start at the
dewlap, helping it slide down, careful".

Then, he turned towards the shoulders raising almost higher than his chest,
feeling the enormous muscles. "You can only scratch the surface, do it with
strength, but with care to soothe". He continued to the upper arm under the
cover of the wing. "Massage, relieve her after a hard flight which she will
appreciate". He kept working down the lower arm, reaching the hand, where he
grabbed the black striped needle to expand the front web. "She likes to rest
on her back, sprawled out, then be careful to never step on her wings". He
drew his finger over a dark vein slightly bulging out from the surface. "Much
stronger than a sail, yet they are sensitive. Treat them with a soft brush,
but don't forget ticks".

He led me back by the wings folding to the sides of the body, keeping a hand
sliding on the wyvern's features. "When turned over, she likes long belly
rubs, but be careful... going too much down may be embarrassing... dangerous.
Check those areas with caution only as necessary". We passed the hind legs,
his hand still stroking, now over the tail's spine until hitting the limp
fin's first spike. "She is very mild, but usually, be cautious here. Let her
be aware of your presence or you may be hurt badly". He grabbed the spike near
its top, pulling it to form a wall of almost a man's height. "Clean with the
same soft brush in need, all three. Don't do it more than necessary unless she
shows appreciation". With that, he gently lowered it, finishing with a few
firm pats above the base.


I indulged his words and motions in awe, how he knew all that! We returned to
the front, the Messenger already occupied with two young kids patting and
stroking his snout, so we politely rather sat a bit away, just watching. The
man's face was pale, featureless, gazing in the distance, out of this world. I
couldn't read his feelings. It occurred me how he referred the Messenger as a
"she", yet we knew he was male, another mystery of this bizarre outlandish
man.

Soon, the Drino mail was assembled, the wyvern, knowing his duty, cautiously
to not hurt anyone around him, raised, and with slow, careful motions returned
to his bag with a brief stop at the water barrel. It was always amazing to see
him, a giant dragon, cooperating this way, like if it was all natural.

The harness secured, he aimed for the take-off run, a peculiar sight as all
the people fled away from his line, pulling away and grabbing little children
for their safety. The Messenger always waited patiently showing his intention
until every motion ceased, his path was clear. Then, with a few massive
strides kicking dusty clouds in the air, he leaped for it, spreading his
expansive wings for a powerful sweeping flap to leave us. He flew, we stood
there in awe, dreaming...

Tears were running down the man's cheeks.

I had never seen him anymore.


A month later Jacob agreed to take his allowance with me, so we visited the
Messenger together. I didn't mention the bizarre man to him, still feeling
betrayed by his act, even though that all likely wouldn't have happened if he
didn't insist on parting.

It went all like before, Jacob offered the treat which the wyvern accepted
with delightful tasting, then we both stroked his muzzle, and continued as
usual with grooming for a few minutes. Then, however, likely remembering me,
he twisted his head to push his ridge against my chest. Understanding, I
gladly tucked my palms under the bases of the adornments to give him a good
massage.

I only realized Jacob's presence a few seconds later who was on the other
side, and called for him, so I could show, explaining how we should ease him
on these spots he can't treat for himself.


He stayed silent about it, but that was the last time we went there together.
Next, he simply requested me to stay back a week, again promising a treat. I
couldn't get to know why, but when my time came, he demanded me to pay for it.
It was rude. He acknowledged that he did, but reasoned he didn't say that it
was for free. Obviously I didn't have the money, so finally I had to bargain
it in exchange for some homeworks.

I was betrayed, it felt like he trampled my dignity with this despicable act,
persuading me to do this! Homeworks, even! But I needed it!

He managed to ruin it for me, filling my mind with all this. He could at least
have told about it a day before, but no, he had to shove it in my face on that
very Wednesday just before my leave!

I felt crippled, mauled when I got there, standing before the Messenger with
that tainted offer! He took it from my hands with the same care, but shown
nothing, just looking down on me, slowly swallowing without any gleeful tongue
flick. He descended close, barely, gently stroking my face with his cheek,
sympathy I felt, raising a bit my sullen mood. Laying flat, he raised his
ridge in anticipation. It was good, reaching under the spikes, feeling the
warmth of his body as my fingers pushed in his flesh, it could let my thoughts
drift away, to soothe the pain. I was relieved.


Begrudgingly I did the excess homework, late into weekend nights for I was
also needed for cropping, consuming a lot of candle wax, worrying Mother
whether I did anything wrong in school. I really didn't want to tell, but I
was also felt much revulsion about bending the truth, especially for her,
especially about this loathsome situation. I settled for admitting I needed
practicing maths, which probably wasn't even untrue.

Next occasion I asked Jacob in advance. With that homework affair, he managed
to achieve that now even I didn't want to get my allowance with him. He
insisted that the same deal may still stand, good enough for me, at least the
school work was something I could do and so could bargain with.

He however betrayed me again. Again on Wednesday, over the package, he turned
haughty, demanding money in addition to the previous term. It was enough. I
threw the desk over him so he can screw it all. So went my allowance, revoked
for the fight I caused. My sense of justice was in revolt.

A month passed in foul silence as two severe things dawned on me. For one, it
was pretty clear everything was over with that supercilious bastard. Honestly,
it didn't touch me all that much. The other was the worse, the realization
that he had access to meat while now I was hopeless. No treat. No dragon. I
felt my world, my dreams shattering.


The very first Wednesday when I could finally use an allowance however still
found me on the town square despite my empty bag. The landing, the swirl of
the officers tending the mail, the welcome of the Messenger felt so distant. I
was there, but I felt like a thick wall hopelessly separating me from that
world. A lump formed in my throat to the sight of those people, all having
something to offer, while I could only stand there watching hopeless.

After a quarter hour the bustling abated, just a few people lingering around
the pleased resting giant now out of my reach. I so wished to approach, but
there was nothing I could offer. It crushed my mind, so it was really over. I
thought to return school before my despair just got even worse.

However, suddenly I noticed the Messenger looking right at me! He shook his
head slightly, emphasizing, as I felt, calling me! I suddenly got scared,
first time in the presence of a wyvern, realizing that then I definitely
couldn't leave, but neither had anything fitting for him as a gift! Nothing I
could do but approach, head low, slow, my palms open. I wished to humble
myself before him, the majestic dragon, to show how sorry I am for my
incapability, but even then I couldn't imagine normal etiquette being of any
use there.

He looked down on me, tongue slightly jutting out for my empty hands, then a
bit sideways, he spotted my school bag, poking his muzzle towards it. What
else I could do, I politely removed it, and shook its contents out. My ruler,
a few quills, a bottle of ink, two folders of exercise sheets plopped in the
dirt along with a pitiful piece of bread and a few thin streaks of dried bacon
wrapped in a cloth, my would-be lunch.

The large head descended, observant, tongue flicking over my stuff until he
seemingly found that lousy package. Worried, I crouched down to lift and
unwrap it. His interest raised as he lashed at it, but didn't attempt to take.
I discarded the cloth, squeezing together the loaf and the morsels of meat, to
hold it up. Only then he opened his jaws to a narrow slit to advance.

He was very gentle, he didn't even pull or bite, just waited for me to push my
miserable little gift in the silt, only pulling back and closing it when my
hands were away. Then, with a huge spring, he threw his head back to let it
slide down in such a ceremony of delightful licks of his chops and swallowing
like it was an entire modest gazelle! My spirit raised, I felt so touched by
his display of affection, how he purposefully found a way to accept me! It
elated me, a gust of freedom engulfing my mind, I lingered in a hazy mist of
happiness as I gave his entire ridge a good throughout massage. I so felt
seeing not just a magnificent dragon, but a true friend in him on that day!




The benefits of knowledge
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


My final year in school passed without memorable events, the days sailed away
always the same, the boring trudge of life in gloomy old Tikira, only to be
flavored with the occasional celebrations, and for me, of course, the
occasional meets with the Drino Messenger who kept accepting and appreciating
my presence despite those miserable tasteless morsels I could offer him. He
was a beacon for me, something to live for, a living manifestation of my
dreams of distances only falling farther and farther out of my reach as
discovering the merciless moor of reality bogging down the commonfolk opened
my eyes.

Flying, dragons were for the nobility and the chosen. It wasn't exactly
impossible to just acquire a brass chick from an open market, however the
lowest rumored price of a hundred thousands was far far beyond our wildest
dreams. Not even a lifetime of plodding could earn that much money! If you
already had a dragon, you were a hero practically with free pass into
Messenger, the Army, and even some of the richest palaces and beds. But how
could one ever get there!

Worse, the realization that I might not even get as far as leaving Tikira
without committing myself to a duty and contract tortured my mind. I had no
connections, so my chances to get something acceptable were bleak. One could
travel free if only he was a proficient hunter and Protector who were
frequently welcomed by small caravans. I didn't have such qualities. I dreaded
of my future, locked up in one of those somber featureless trade buildings of
the main street to spend my years as an accountant. Better than plodding on
the fields, I guessed, but still a gloomy perspective.


Graduation came over me lost in these hapless thought of my future. It
couldn't elate me that my marks were perfect, nearly the best in class. I took
the compliments with feigned pleasure, for the formalities, wearing me tired.
There was to be a celebration, a trip through the taverns into the hazy land
of intoxication of which I sneaked away as soon as most grew too woozy to care
about anything. I dropped in my bed in disbelief, barely fathoming that an
important chapter of my life ended that day.

For a week nothing much happened, I helped Mother with her work while
pondering on what I could do for my living, looking around a bit in the city
as well for possibilities. Then, one evening a postman rode to our home
bringing a short notice. We welcomed him with worries as usually such weren't
of any good, however this case it turned out rather interesting. It was for
me, from Arne Murai's small forestry and sawmill at the very outskirts, in the
woods, requesting specifically my attendance for a discussion.

Mother knew about the family, they had a reputation of being strange, but
honest people, entrepreneurs, above the common class as the righteous owners
of their home and elaborate machinery, with contracts for many hectares of
forest by the Mera. I came to wonder what it is all alike for I had never seen
them. The note thankfully also set the date, and the lumber wagon which was to
carry me.


I wouldn't have thought it will be so far, we rattled along for an hour before
the teamster pointed me towards a very peculiar sight. We were approaching a
dense forest, and deeper in, almost with an impression of hovering on thin
air, a towering windmill stood, the blades slowly turning. It almost felt like
a residence of a wizard coming right out from a fairy tale! The sight elated
me, I had never seen something so unusual, so intriguing in architecture
before, grown up accustomed to the gloomy streets of the city. It was sure
something eccentric!

The growing trees however soon concealed this sight, covering above us as the
massive draft horses steadily pulled our wagon deeper in. For a half hour we
could enjoy the soothing shades until the road cleared again to reveal the
residence.

A small hill dominated the clearing, on which the tall windmill stood
surrounded by a few sheds, large piles of logs and processed wood, people busy
working, clearly the sawmill. The road forked, one path leading up there,
another winding away, around. We stopped and soon a rider trotted down to meet
us.

"Welcome on my ranch! You are Daniel Thorton, I presume?" I bowed, "I am, at
your service". He told a few instructions to the teamster, then gestured me to
follow him, taking the path around the mill. On the way we just exchanged a
few formalities, weather, family, then drifting a bit towards city politics,
seemingly testing a bit my knowledge of history. Our path ended at a modest
mansion, mostly constructed of wood with a few other buildings around, notably
a stable. After passing the horse to a groom, he invited me in, to the hall,
where, after acquainting me to his wife, he revealed the purpose of this
attendance.


He explained a few bits on the sawmill, how the cutting operations worked, how
the wood is managed, prepared and processed, the products, and how they are
sold on the market, how tax is managed, even mentioning the port, cargo
departing for other cities. He also noted hunting permits, how they are
accounted and what happens to the meat and skins. I felt a bit swamped by all
the information, wouldn't have thought that there are this many things to
consider.

"You see, it is a fairly elaborate operation. I am doing most of the
accounting myself, and it bogs me down. Sometimes my cutters even cut and
deliver the wrong trees for I have no time to investigate everything. I could
really use a good scribe and accountant who could also help me on the field in
need, the more proficient the better."

I politely asked why he selected especially me for this offer.

"This is not a place for feeble city folk, and they neither would go out here.
It is a rarity someone from your class gets in school and finishes it, you
should be grateful for your mother's effort. You know what physical work is,
and I hope you aren't afraid of the few dangers of the forest. Don't worry, I
have men to tutor you in your tasks, so you will come to know them in time."

It began to really interest me, all those years coming to be useful, and not
in that dreaded city as I imagined! Expressing my appreciation for selecting
me, I asked for the contract, which he promptly provided on paper, presumably
worded by his own meticulously tidy writing. It was concise and comprehensive,
listing my tasks which varied, noting tutoring, my responsibilities, then
going on to living quarters, allowances, provisions and salary, a real salary
of hard cash among the foodstuff and other articles. I asked about a few
elements, of which two were notable: a monthly hunting permit for fowl, and a
four years time.

"You should better learn archery, it is a useful skill on the field. There is
a small training ground behind the stables and a few spare bows and practice
arrows within, you will also meet people who can help with that. You will
appreciate the permits later. I require four years so your tutoring will pay
off. No more for this is not slavery, of course if you serve well and like,
you are free to stay then."

I came to like this man, he was straight and fair with his terms, so after the
discussion, I agreed without hesitation, signing the contract which he sealed,
passing me a copy as proof for my part.


The oncoming months proved to be really though, always busy working, always
necessitating many things to learn, to be accustomed to. I was passed back and
forth between the mill and the mansion, the morning could find me tallying
logs and products of various types of wood, occasionally jumping in at the
saw, the afternoon in the stables sorting out hay, tending for the horses
while accounting every little detail, even such mundane things like manure.
After all, that was also a product which could be sold.

It was hard, but interesting, and with time, I came to understand. Wind was a
key, it determined how well the mill could perform, and so every task was
scheduled to utilize it as best as possible. When it was strong, everyone
capable was at the saw, the largest logs being cut up in planks to get as much
of this done as possible until it lasted. On calm days, most people were
directed out to the woods for cutting, lumber wagons went and came, stocking
up unprocessed wood by the mill.


Those days occasionally there was time for some slacking, which of course
could also be put to good uses, my case learning archery. The forester, Caron
came to my help in that, explaining the basics, selecting me a bow suitable
for practicing. It put me a bit off that even this proved to be not so simple
I imagined, as he described how I need to work my muscles to become able to
handle a real hunting bow with ease. More so when my first arrow landed flat
on the ground right before the target affixed to a bale of hay.

Soon however I got the hang of it, learning to anticipate the fall of the
arrow, the effect of wind, how I needed to adjust my aim. It was fun, even
more so when we set out for small archery competitions with some of the
workers who enjoyed this pastime.


I had monthly one day and night allowance which I could use to visit the city,
my mother. Of course I tried to organize those to be on Wednesday even if it
demanded me to walk, a good three hours, so I could also keep on meeting the
Drino Messenger.

It was also the first time I could go in the market with some real own money
in my pouch. It wasn't much, but I felt rich, just for the thought that it was
solely myself who was to decide what to spend it on. There was nothing
pressing, I even had a good streak of bacon saved from my salary to have for
the wyvern as gift. So I plunged in the small town of tents and stands eager
to observe, to discover, to see what they could offer at last!

To my dismay it didn't last for my pouch was thin and the wares were
expensive. I noted a blade merchant's stand with fine steel knives for later,
acknowledged that quality hunting bows and quivers demand saving up for a few
months, and finally resorted to rather buy some fruits and salami for Mother
which were rare on our table.

Wandering around I eventually ran into something which filled me with slight
revulsion. It was a stand offering lousy cheap ground meat packages, with the
lofty title "Wyvern treats", nearing noon, it experienced some traffic. I felt
something shattering in me. How those people could buy this crap as an offer
to him! I gulped my feelings down, and thought about my streak of bacon which
I meticulously saved up by cutting little bits of my own meals.


Eventually he also came, the glimmering brass giant descending from the sky as
always during the past countless years. The officers removed his mailbag to
start their work, he briefly visited the barrel for a drink, then after a
stretch, laid down on his chest, to meet the townsfolk.

I would have been so elated to finally greet him with some real gift of mine
unless that "Wyvern treats" stand wouldn't ruin it for me. I couldn't stop
thinking about how probably most of those lining up for him offered that
rinky-dink crap. Where the hell they put their dignity?

Waiting for the initial rush to abate, I came forth with my own offer, my
first earned with my hands, my work. I could have been so proud then, however
I rather felt sad. He again, as almost always, seemed to sympathize with my
mental state, accepting my gift without making a huge ceremony about it, just
watching with those big yellow eyes of his. After some strokes on the muzzle,
he offered his ridge to relax stretched out under my massaging treatment.

As I grew older, the miracles of the world seemed to vanish, trampled over by
the rudeness of reality. I was schooled, I understood language while he, no
matter how magnificent gigantic dragon he was, didn't have these qualities.
He might well taste the difference, and I believe he did, however these people
were still tricking him. Someone was making foul money over his tolerance, and
the rest just assisted in this by falling for it, being easy cheap, buying
that crap to offer him. They didn't care, they probably didn't respect the
Messenger, his very being, just wanting to have a spiffy dragon encounter
without many sacrifices. I felt sorry for him.


As I got familiar with life at the sawmill, my duties, possibilities started
to unfold. Arne suggested me learning to ride so I could follow Caron into the
woods, helping him with selecting trees for cutting and supervising
operations. Caron didn't have schooling, and while he coarsely learned to read
and write, his skills were shaky. So a few months later, after being
acquainted to a mellow mare, occasional trips into the forest were also added
to my profile.

With that came many things. For the most important, the dangers, to be wary of
predators: lions and even more so leopards in thicker regions, but even those
were a mere fraction along with elephants and rhinos, and by the Mera,
hippopotamus and crocodiles, not to mention the many species of venomous
snakes and, crazy it may sound but true, bees. Unknowingly disturbing hives
during cutting caused a few serious cases of stings and even a death in the
past decade.

We, however weren't that exposed to those on horseback with our bows, so also
could have more freedom in indulging the splendor, the wonders of the forest,
occasionally seeing the animals, mostly species of antelopes, warthogs, hare,
francolins and guineafowl. Caron noted that the hunting permit in my contract
was good for the latter, so I could put my archery skill to use, then the chef
could tutor me how to prepare it proper.


I liked how my duties diversified, it was interesting and educating: I could
see in the operation of the sawmill, getting coarse image on even the
machinery's construction, while I occasionally tended for horses, practiced
archery, got to understand some principles of forestry, types of wood, and
with being out, even gaining knowledge on the species of animals living in
this region and some of their uses. An interesting discovery in this regard
was the case of the two large nile monitors roaming free around the mansion: I
thought them being simply pets of Arne, fitting his eccentric style, however
they had a very important purpose: they killed venomous snakes.

Later as I got confident with riding, Arne also started to add some delivery
tasks, things which couldn't be done by people not familiar with numbers,
accounting, reasonable bargaining. One of the firsts were bringing two
circular saws to the smith for sharpening, agreeing on the price, however
later mostly it was mail. The postal service only collected within the city,
so someone had to bring it in from here.

He noticed how I prefer to meet the Messenger and, a quite generous deed from
him, he later always asked me to deliver the Drino mail, occasionally even
suggesting me to take something from his stock for the wyvern as gift, once,
when a wagon just made the trip the right time, also passing his four year old
son under my supervision for the meet. Probably those big monitor lizards
weren't just insurances against snakes after all.




All that gold does not glitter
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


For some three years I felt somewhat settled, my will for adventure more or
less at rest, probably for the diversity of my tasks in Arne's sawmill, what
remained probably channeled in the Messenger who I kept meeting regularly, at
least once every month. The work was good, my salary wasn't much, but passable
since I neither needed a lot of money out there. I actually sent a good share
of it home, to Mother, who reluctantly, but accepted. Not like I didn't have a
few wishes deep within even then, but ration could override them, to not
strive for something prohibitively expensive or unnecessary in my situation.

One day visiting the city, however, I got to feel something strange in the
air, something off the usual routine. Before I could decide to inquire someone
or to just settle in a tavern for a few drinks catching gossip, I noticed a
flier. It announced the visit of the Chancellor of Ursus two weeks from then,
requesting citizen to prepare for showing their respect. Surprised over what
this could mean, I visited the post office even though it wasn't delivery day.

There a clerk shortly explained that the Chancellor's staff and guards were
going to arrive by a caravan some ten to twelve days from then, while he would
fly on dragonback, three dragons, the exact date would be sent by the Ursus
Messenger. A grand parade would be held to commemorate this event. His two
guards would be billeted in Cerva and Rhode, our air force station being too
small to accommodate them all, however his personal gold wyvern would stay,
anticipating offers as he pleases.


That was sure some grand event! Tikira during my entire life hadn't seen any
other dragon than its two guardians which never landed within the city and
those brass wyverns of the Messengers! Why the Ursus Chancellor suddenly had
to pay a visit was extraordinary, although I doubt any of the townsfolk
thought about this shaded by the prospect of having this huge parade. It
barely occurred to me either then. To see a gold wyvern, the magnificent
creature I only heard about from traveler's tales was something I couldn't
miss, hazing my mind!

Work however intervened, and honestly neither did I press it much. I didn't
really like the idea of crowding on the town square just to catch a glimpse
of them landing, thinking about organizing a longer visit during the
Chancellor's stay hoping for some better opportunity.

Thankfully it coincided with a mail Arne wanted to send to Drino along with a
few minor things to obtain from the market, so he let me go by a lumber cart
late Monday afternoon to return with another Wednesday.


I met Mother, then on Tuesday morning I set out for the city in anticipation.
In my bag, as usual, there was a streak of bacon intended for the Drino
Messenger which I left there along with everything else even though this
wasn't the day.

As I was walking towards the town square, through the rather empty winding
streets and alleyways a bit lost in my thoughts, suddenly I almost ran into
him! By no doubt, that was the Chancellor's gold wyvern which padded down
towards me!

The magnificence, the pure beauty of that slender dragon was simply impossible
to describe. His entire skin sparkled reflecting the sunlight, motion sent
rainbows down his features, barely showing the supposed green and gold colors!
His head and neck was adorned by some impressive ridge of what appeared to be
a mixture of long needles, even laid back flat it suggested something of
unfathomable splendor, something regal! I was mesmerized by his movements, the
ripples of the glazing skin shifting his tones, confusing, almost hypnotizing
me! A dream, magic came alive right down from the skies!

Before I could notice, he was already towering over me, examining. I could
barely recover myself from the overwhelming impression to realize the
situation, to realize that it was all reality, that a huge, live flesh being
was indeed there, investigating me!

I didn't really have anything to offer to him, at least I couldn't yet inquire
what I should since I was just on the way there to do so. I tried to politely
back away, making sure to give him ample space to continue wherever he was
going, however he kept turning towards me, flicking tongue. I realized I
probably couldn't get away without improvising something, so, knowing the
bacon was in my bag, I unwrapped and held up that hoping he would appreciate.

He yanked it off of my hands, gulping it down in a moment, apparently ceasing
to pay any further attention to me, continuing his walk further down. I looked
after him in confusion as he passed. Then, unexpectedly, he twisted his head
back a bit. I could meet an eye for a moment before a terrible jolt crushed my
lungs, a hit on the head hurled me past the border of the darkness of eternal
pain.


Pats on my face woke me up. A passer-by, thankfully someone who cared, and not
one who would turn my condition to his advantage. I managed to sit up, my
chest shooting pain in objection. He asked whether I was all right. I felt for
the back of my skull, numb pain, but at least seemed intact. "I will live".
Looking through my belongings I acknowledged that to my luck he was the first
to find me.

He helped me to my legs, then somehow I limped home with my throbbing chest.
Mother was appalled by my condition, I admitted I had an incident with the
Chancellor's wyvern despite knowing she might assume I tried to touch him. I
really wasn't in the state to reason or think.

By morning I could assess my situation not being so severe we thought. The
pain concentrated on two ribs which didn't feel dislodged or broken, likely
only cracked. Mother offered to go to the town square to do my duties for
Arne, however I insisted I need to go since she didn't have the proficiencies
for those. I agreed and appreciated her helping me though.

So later we got to the market successful. We choose a longer route through
more populated streets to avoid encountering the wyvern. Despite the pain, I
went through bargaining all the stuff Arne needed, then bought a gift for the
Drino Messenger from a real butcher. These being done, we settled at the post
office, waiting for his arrival.


Timely before noon, his shape appeared on the sky, descending with a graceful
glide. However, soon, something else launched over the rooftops, rising with
powerful wingflaps towards him! What was that?! I could see the bewildered
faces around us, everyone staring dumbfounded! Sparkling rainbows ran down the
rising shape, the shape of a gold wyvern, the Chancellor's dragon!

He gained height over the Messenger, and struck down, hard. The Messenger
couldn't do anything but dodge, banking, so the attacker missed only scraping
each other's bodies. He didn't stop. With a narrow circle, he again raised
over to swoop down. There was no chance, the mail bag's weight bogged down the
brass who could only try to avoid, biting in a very short, useless range.

The Chancellor's wyvern continued the storm, the brass dodged, barely saving
himself from crushing, snapping his jaws in despair. It went on for minutes
above all the scared people who were waiting for the Messenger, and all the
others who were just happened to witness the unfair battle!

The brass couldn't keep this on after his long flight, he had to land, it was
beyond hope for him to break even. Finally, the inevitable happened, while his
dodge didn't fail, the gold's slam crushed on the mail bag, tearing it off of
his neck! A few post officers woke up from their bewildered stupor for the
falling equipment, two jumped on their horses and stormed off, a few more
continuing.

The struggle in the air however continued! The gold wyvern didn't feel that
enough, and attempted another storm, however now the brass also gathered his
strength! He tricked his adversary by a bank, sending him down hardly scraping
his side, then, folding up his wings, he took the dive! The gold didn't seem
to realize the massive danger behind, leading himself out in the same smooth
curve like before, so the brass managed to land his entire crushing mass on
his shoulders!

For a moment both were falling, the Messenger concealed by the gold's
glimmering contorted wings, however he promptly led himself off from the dive
into a smooth glide. It seemed like the Chancellor's wyvern would plunge to
his death, however he also managed to recover just before he would disappear
from our sight. More so, he again started to flap hard for a rise!

After a circle, the brass turned away from us, soaring without much effort to
raise, seemingly not caring about the gold. Soon, the latter was above him, we
could see him making notions for a swoop, but he didn't try for real anymore.
They almost flew out of sight before the Chancellor's wyvern gave up, and
glided back, descending somewhere in the outskirts.


It crushed me. I felt I could cry. Why this had to happen?! Looking up I could
see sorrow, some even removed their straw hats, to place over the chest,
mourning. Something, a certainty to hold on, the Messenger's everlasting
dedication to perform his duty week after week, always on time, always here,
broke today. It was unfair. I still couldn't fathom it was Wednesday, and he
wouldn't be here as always, forever. I dreaded of the future, next week.


Life however had to go on. Late afternoon I caught the lumber wagon which was
supposed to take me back to the sawmill, still with my mother, and I told the
teamster I am simply not in a condition to go back. However I passed the wares
bought for Arne along with the remnants of the money he trusted me with, also
writing a short note on my cracked ribs hoping he would understand.

For a few days my world got mostly constrained to my bed, alone at home as
Mother kept on doing her work, plodding on the fields. One evening hearing a
knock, I stumbled to open the door, and to my surprise, I met Caron. He
shortly assured me that Arne is not angry at me, and the news of the disaster
with the Drino Messenger arrived even there. He passed me a cloth concealing a
moderate streak of bacon, "let's hope he will return", also noting I shouldn't
forget about the mail if possible, and if I feel able, should take a cart only
then. Finally, he suggested me to stay low about anything concerning the
Chancellor and his dragon, for there are "strange things going on", but at
least he was going to leave by Sunday.

These weren't exactly reassuring with all this haziness, but at least my
position didn't suffer. I determined I will take that cart no matter what
state I was in.


I didn't go to the city until Wednesday, I simply couldn't care less for the
Chancellor or anything, until Sunday I didn't even poke my face out of the
door lest I happened to stumble upon that foul wyvern again. I felt my injury
getting better, so when the day came, by my resolution, I bid farewell to
Mother, hoping things will just get back to normal.

The town square around the post office was way more crowded than usual. The
thought warmed me that all these people are waiting for the Drino Messenger,
that so many are missing him, dreading of the thought he would never come
again. I wasn't unlike them. I expected to have everything happening just as
always, my mind shutting out the grim possibility of seeing no wyvern.

Then a hand pointed towards the sky. There was it, something approaching! The
shape grew larger, gracefully soaring, descending until we could make out the
features, until we could see clear he is coming alone without a rider. Someone
shouted in elation, then the crowd let out a massive cheer! The Messenger was
back!

This welcome startled him, causing him breaking his descend to rise a bit.
Everyone suddenly grew silent realizing they might have scared him away right
then. However, as they calmed down, after doing a low circle he finally
touched down, just somewhat away from the usual position.

Finally, things were really back to how they were supposed to be. The mail
officers starting their usual work, the Messenger relieved from his bag
drinking from the barrel, then padding away to settle down to welcome his
attendants of whom there were a lot this day.


I waited for a half hour, or probably even more until things calmed down a
bit, then approached. He seemed to recognize me. I unwrapped the bacon got
from Caron to offer him, however he pulled away otherwise not showing
rejection. Wondering, I turned the meat around, smelled it, but it didn't feel
like having any problem, just fine, something I would eat without hesitation.
Suddenly I felt his muzzle pushing to my head, down in my face.

I understood, he just didn't want to eat, probably just being full for the
previous rush. I put it away to stroke him, allowing him to lick my hands
meanwhile, still appreciating the taste. Then, as usual, he presented his
ridge for me to groom.

I was relieved to find his adornments intact, although one of the spikes
slightly bent out from the line. I examined, but didn't press, knowing the
state of my own chest, it was sore enough without teasing. A few scratches
disturbed the scales of his neck and shoulders, but all appeared to be
superficial, not even cutting in the skin. He fought well, I thought, to get
out with so few injuries from that horrible unfair battle! Sure that foul gold
got something more substantial in its back!


Two small kids caught my attention, waiting a bit away, a little boy and a
girl, the latter weeping. I approached them, crouching down, asking what was
the matter. The girl could barely tell me she was scared. It made me wonder a
bit, then why visit the Messenger, but then with a sudden thought reflecting
the past week's events, I rather tried to comfort her, then holding her little
hand, slowly leading to the resting wyvern's muzzle.

To my surprise, a few moments after I carefully placed her palm between the
nostrils, she hugged the entire face and started weeping again. I sat by the
side of the Messenger's head, with one hand caressing behind his ornaments,
seeing this all the boy also got a bit of courage, and told me what happened.

"We were on the street and suddenly there was a huge sparkly dragon! Father
said this was the surprise he wanted to show. He gave it meat, it ate it, and
walked away..." the boy started crying as he finished "his tail scared us...
threw Father to the ground..."

I asked if he is all right. "He is home, Mother cares him". I responded him,
reassuring he will get better. The girl meanwhile got off of the wyvern's
face to sit by it, tears still running down her cheeks, her little hand
stroking the muzzle. With a sudden thought, removing my hand from under the
ridge to place on the top of his head, I spoke. "You know, Messenger spanked
that sparkly dragon good". They both looked at me in awe, "Really?". "Really
really good!". At last their lips pulled to a small grin, both stroking their
new hero's cheeks.


The time to leave eventually came. We got up, I lead the two children away
following the other people clearing out from the wyvern's path after he got
his mail bag reattached. He made the run, three strides, then started
flapping, but couldn't take off! Embarrassed by his failure, he padded back,
and tried again only to meet the same fate.

He lumbered back with faltering movement, I so wanted to rush to him to see
what happened not unlike a few other people. Suddenly he started to retch, a
man ran away just before he threw up. A lot, an impressive amount of barely
digested meat. He turned away in apparent disgust, still dizzy, but made his
run once again, which he succeeded with terrible struggle.

It was bizarre, I just hoped he was all right and could make his journey back
to Drino. All the people here welcoming him back, they likely overfed the poor
wyvern with their gifts, nobody thinking about he would have to fly shortly
after! It was even more bizarre how he tried, how he didn't care of his state
until his body revolted! Harsh reality one again mercilessly trampled in my
ideals, the majestic being of the sky bogged down in the swamp of mundane
shattering his dignity. I could only feel very sorry for him.


I staggered towards the market with my ribs again in pain, hazing my sullen
mind, until my eyes caught two fliers on the side of a deserted stand. An
older, torn one stated that the postal service is sorry for not being able to
deliver the Drino mail due to an incident caused by "material fatigue" of the
Messenger's bag. Someone underlined the words of "material fatigue" twice. The
newer one partly affixed over it declared that anyone spreading disrespecting
foul gossip and lies of the Chancellor or his dragon was going to be penalized
by public flogging. Someone again underlined a word, the word "dragon".

So those were the "strange things going on". I suddenly felt worried for the
two little kids who I cheered up telling that tale, hoping that maybe they
simply didn't believe it after seeing Messenger's struggle, lest they got in
trouble for that.

Wandering aimlessly in the market to toss my time until I should catch my ride
back to the sawmill, finally I could witness something what lifted my mood a
bit. It was the "Wyvern treats" stand, which was now running under the more
elaborate title "Brass wyvern treats", and as I could see, the owner had a
quite stiff back as he was laboriously packing up his crap.


Arne was abashed witnessing my state for real, and asked what exactly I did to
get this. I shortly, without consideration, replied that if I told my sorry
butt would also get quite sore. In other circumstances this might have been
quite weird, but apparently news reached the sawmill too, Arne reflecting
whether I had some unintended situation with the Chancellor's wyvern, which I
admitted I had.

We exchanged a few words over the events, him worrying that this all might not
end with these. He didn't have too many connections with Drino or the lands
around, however those were important, so the regular mail exchange. The most
critical parts of the sawmill's machinery were only manufactured there
including the characteristic circular saws.

Drino was ruled by the Antarans, part of the kingdom, but always quite
autonomous. They were the Dragon Lords who opposed attempts for centralization
since many hundred years having firm grasp of their lands, at times even
unsettling other regions. They didn't hesitate to ally with the neighboring
Ugaros in need, so every struggle ending in a stalemate. The past fifty years
however there was peace. Our history studies demanded reciting their lineage
along with the royal family's. Their coat of arms displayed two intertwined
dragons, a brass and a gold, I assumed that was why they were known as "Dragon
Lords", or maybe their relentless opposition in the past.

We could only speculate. Arne told he heard that the Chancellor had to fly
away on one of the brass wyverns since his gold's back was mauled bad. It was
an outrageous humiliation which wouldn't probably pass without reprehension,
but it was quite hazy how it would work out, how the Antarans related.
Normally the Messenger could be punished making a clearer situation, however
here there wasn't even a rider.

This uncertainty took its toll on me. As my ribs got better I started to pick
up my regular duties, however I kept listening to the news, whether anything
was going on. Nothing, I heard the Drino Messenger arrived next week as normal
without complications, and after a few weeks everything seemed to be silent
again.




Dragonbane
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The events however stirred a bit up my adventurous side. I found myself
catching gossip when I was in town, to hear about the Dragon Lords of Drino
or anything concerning politics. The latter was mostly an eerie muffled
silence, people worried to express anything related. Even if so, they were
only low-toned useless rumors, a few twists on the air battle, some accidents
and a missing child supposedly eaten in an alleyway.

There were but a few travelers who actually visited Drino: it was far. By
land on a decent horse it was said someone could do it in seven days, by cart
it could take some three weeks. It wasn't any shorter on water either, and it
even went out of country, so only large barges used that route.

It was hard to filter out reality from fantasy. It was depicted to be a hilly
region, Drino itself sprawling between the Lena and the Antaran citadel built
over a steep mountaintop, some describing it as an impressive fortification,
some a sky-high magical tower concealed in a swirl of dragons. Dragons! Almost
every story involved them in some manner! Dragons walking on the streets,
dragons overlooking the port, magnificent royal golden dragons guarding the
gates of the citadel like eternal glimmering statues! Some even rumored
blasphemy, supposing they secretively worshiped the ancient god of
Quetzalcoatl, the giant golden dragon of Heaven!


It was mesmerizing even if only half of it was truth. For the sake of
completeness, some wild tales were even floating around from the royal city of
Ursus, Jala and other settlements, the farther the more eccentric, but neither
reaching the grandeur of those of Drino. I realized I simply have to see it
one day, it hammered my urges, my dreams, my want to experience dragons!

Reality however again crushed hard on my shoulders. I again had to realize I
will either have to buy my way there, or become Protector so I could travel
free. Having my job, however, these possibilities now felt being in my reach,
distant, but something I had means to grasp on. The latter needed the more
investments, but I believed only that to be the wise solution, enriching my
skills, ensuring my freedom of travel so I could easier get a job in need.

Truly I even had good proficiencies for that prospect, the knowledge of the
forest, how to handle the potential dangers of wildlife. I felt both lucky and
grateful for those who helped me to get here, most importantly Mother, and of
course Arne with his sawmill. It was also uneasy, thinking that I might
eventually leave, but I simply couldn't resolve the conflict in myself, my
respect of those who helped me against the desolateness of gloomy old Tikira,
the wish for dragons urging me to see the world.

So I meticulously started saving up, assessing what I might need if I wanted
to travel, even if I was to be alone on the road. An archery set of fine
craftsmanship was the worst item on my checklist.

The woods had their own dangers, and unarguably, those were probably the most
perilous places. However walking in the open was neither something without
deadly hazards. The worst of those was that without the safe cover of trees,
travelers were exposed to wild wyverns, and so the need for Protectors. With
my profession I never had to be concerned, so I only started to learn about
this then.


Meanwhile, my fourth year passed in Arne's service, but I decided to stay for
I had nowhere else to go, and for they truly appreciated my decision. I kept
performing my duties with dedication while planning my escape from this city,
meticulously saving up money.

Then, a nice day one of the most unexpected surprises happened to me. It was
my mother, the poor agricultural worker plodding on the fields never having as
much as a penny. On that morning, she woke me up, reminding me that was my
seventeenth birthday, adulthood, which I completely forgot about just as any
other damn birthday! She led me to the table, and on it was... A perfect,
quality craftsmanship Dragonbane recurve bow with a fitting quiver and a set
of broadhead hunting arrows! A fragment of my very dream!

I was awestruck unable to imagine how this could happen! Such an archery set
cost many months of my salary! We had a long talk that day of many things.


First, to reassure me that there isn't any enslaving credit deal involved, she
explained she put away all that money I sent home forming quite a nice
stockpile, so I should just take it as she was my secret little bank.
Moreover, there was still a little left behind from Father...

Father! She drifted towards those old memories, my childhood, those telegraphs
to Jala when I had first seen a dragon up close. Father had a never settling
soul, some of which I likely inherited. He couldn't stay put for more than a
few years, so the inevitable happened, they divorced. He, however, understood
that he can't bring me with him plunging into the hazards of a traveling
factotum's life never having a permanent job, and left almost all his
belongings and money here, to Mother, so she could raise and school me into a
proper man.

I never knew these, suddenly casting a different light over those memories. It
seems I was to continue Father's fate, to be a never settling wanderer, and
Mother understood, she understood that she can't hold me here in Tikira for my
insatiable urge for taking wings will devour me.

It was overwhelming, touching. She helped me towards these goals, and here it
was, lain on the table, probably one of the last components for me to embark
on my quest to see the world. We were to part ways, but she understood. We
cuddled over the deep revelations, weeping.


Back at the sawmill Caron helped me with my new acquisition, explaining the
mechanics of recurve bows which I didn't use before, praising their power for
their smaller size. He showed how to string it proper, then suggested me to
try shooting. It was strange, it required similar effort to draw like that
large unwieldy bow we only rarely took into the woods for hunting antelopes.
Perfect, I thought, an awesome thing to have in the forest!

He however could only help me to recognize the Dragonbane's value for hunting
and fending off predators in dire need, not having experience wandering in the
open. He suggested me there should be some guilt in the city where I could
start off.


So next occasion I looked a bit around until I found out there indeed is a
Protectors' Training Ground in the outskirts. It wasn't too far, just remote
enough so it eluded the attention of those not seeking out for it, and even
then, it wasn't much more than an open field, an archery range, with a single
odd feature of a quite tall pole with a target on it's top.

When I first visited, it was completely empty. I wandered around for a short
while with a little desolate feeling, until I heard someone calling out. It
was from the door of a small house, recognizing that, I promptly hurried there
to meet whoever he was.

The place turned out to have a janitor, an old geezer with all white hair and
bread, however a stiff build suggesting the venerable remnants of a once
strong man. He introduced himself as Carl, telling he was a wandering
Protector, now for his old days employed in common service here to tutor the
new generation. He called me in for a talk, noticing my shiny new Dragonbane,
presuming I was new in this field. I admitted I was, and asked for his kind
guidance.


"The First Law of Protector. You don't shoot at a dragon". What? I was
stunned, asking then what I was to do if I was attacked by one. "Of course you
shoot". What?! I was outright confused, asking him to elaborate. "You asked
what you had to do if you were attacked. Of course you shoot then. The First
Law only suggests you to avoid being attacked".

He explained shortly that wyverns avoid cities, ships, and large groups of
people since those, even if they don't have guardians, are more likely to have
several archers to shoot at them, so I should prefer these in the open.
Otherwise, I should use cover, trees, forests if possible. If not, the morning
was the better since the wyverns prefer to warm themselves up by the Sun
before taking off for a hunt. Only then would the bow come in play, if all
else failed, and I was there in the wide open with the large winged shape
descending from the sky.

Then, he continued that even then it is way more important if I could startle
the wyvern into leaving than what kind of bow I actually had or whether I
could even use it, so the first was to learn to take and draw it fast from any
position. He insisted that they actually rarely attack, and even if so, most
times the sight of an armed bow is enough to persuade them trying something
else.

Only then the bow and arrows would matter, but he rather suggested us to go
out to see how I perform in the aforementioned task. I was surprised to see
him equipping himself as well. He asked to string my bow, then positioned me
and pointed behind, towards the sky "There's a wyvern swooping down, now!". I
reached for my quiver, feeling for the bow and an arrow the best I could,
pulling them out, turning and drawing. My performance was acknowledged with a
disappointed scowl. "Terrible. Four hundred yards for the wyvern. You are
dead". He then showed the same with his own equipment at an amazing swiftness
for such an old man. "One hundred and fifty. You have chance". Then he pointed
out a few key elements of the technique, such as how I should prepare my
quiver, in a few tries bringing me down to two hundred and fifty yards,
suggesting I should just keep practicing later.


Returning inside, he continued his tutoring. He pulled out an arrow from my
quiver. "These hunting broadheads are useless against a wyvern. They punch
superficial holes in the skin unable to cut through, only teasing them". He
drew two arrows of his, placing them next to mine. They looked like cheap
disposable military bodkin points, which I expressed aloud. "Indeed, one of
them is such, used for target practicing here. This one however is a stinger".
He aligned the two points to show the difference. "It is a hardened bodkin
point, you can recognize them for their fine shape and the recesses. Only this
can punch through their skin from a reasonable distance, only if shot by a
Dragonbane or something more powerful".

I examined the arrows thoughtfully, then asked about the purpose of the
recesses. "Yes, they don't contribute to piercing. The stinger is used with a
salty grease, delivered into the wound by those". This astounded me, making me
ask whether it kills. "No, it doesn't from a range you would survive. It is to
cause pain, to make them regret their attack, to turn them away". Wondering, I
asked about that range which I would survive. "Farther than two hundred yards,
it deflects. Closer than a hundred, the wyvern crushes you". It wasn't exactly
reassuring.


Maybe next occasion I visited town I noticed a recruitment station set up by
the market for the royal army, prospecting good salaries and career
possibilities. For a moment it passed through my mind whether it would be a
good opportunity, but I rather dismissed it when the prospect of traveling on
my own, free of encumbering restrictions was this close.

Taxes the same time increased, also bugging me since by that Arne had to cut
on everyone's pay to break even. Out of curiosity I checked my old contract,
which turned out to contain such a clause.

Apart from these, there was silence, not even rumors floating around, the
Chancellor's visit largely forgotten while the Drino Messenger faithfully
performed his duty week after week along with the other two connecting Ursus
and Jala. There was a certain something in the air, some tension rising, but
nobody knew what exactly. Rumors told our country's relations with the
neighbors were peaceful and lucrative, but there could be anything under the
surface.


Meanwhile, I kept practicing, visiting the Protector's training ground when
possible, accepting Carl's suggestions to improve myself, occasionally also
snatching techniques from other people there.

It only turned even more formidable when Carl demonstrated what I should
expect. It was late afternoon. He led me to a spot noting that the tall pole
is somewhere behind me about one hundred yards away, and that will be the
attacking wyvern I supposedly notice when he says so. He counted down from
three, then "Now!". I jumped grabbing my bow and arrow to turn around just to
get totally blinded by the Sun as I desperately tried to find my target! The
arrow flew off, of course nobody ever found where it landed!

He admitted this exact scenario is not very likely, but only for that a real
Protector should be always keeping an eye on the sky especially around the Sun
lest a wyvern could sneak on him this way! I felt I started to really
understand the First Law.




Trial of courage
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


With the months passing, my handling of my Dragonbane getting more steady, and
also for seeing several people joining the Army, leaving town, my adventurous
side started to grow restless. I was planning, assembling my gear anticipating
the long trek, the journey to Drino. I wanted to see that city. Not only for
the hazy rumors, the tales, but also for the Messenger. It grew personal,
feeling like I am preparing to visit a distant relative. I so much wished to
see where he lives, his home, how he is treated there, secretly dreaming of
being with him in peace, undisturbed, not pressed by his duty.

I just couldn't settle for leaving yet, to say farewell to Mother, and my
friends in the sawmill since they were truly more than merely work colleagues.
I stroked Messenger, massaging his ridge with a distant, clouded mind. He felt
so sad, enervated, just like me in my struggle to make my decision.

I didn't notice until his time came. I hurried aside from him, he raised his
head, but was slow. He staggered to stand up, lumbering to the mail officers
trying to stand firm. They hesitated to harness him seeing his condition, but
he just stood there anticipating with hazed eyes. Then, all of sudden he
swayed, but managed to not tumble over, and vomited. With faltering motions he
approached the barrel, started to drink, but finally his body gave up and he
collapsed, plunging, tipping over the container.

Bewildered terrified we rushed to remove the round barrel in which his head
was still partly submerged to save him from suffocating. He just laid there,
wings contorted, gasping, unable to stand up. The realization struck me he
could be dying right before my eyes! People gathered, unable to fathom what
was happening.


His eyes twitched, scared, looking up us with widening pupils, his strength
gone, incapable to even align his head. Horrified by the sight I yelled at the
people around to come help me, attempting to fold his left wing up to get him
rolled on his side, to give his chest freedom for breathing. It was barely of
use with everyone completely lost their capability to reason, but eventually
with combined effort we got him laid out in some tolerable manner.

It was dread. I feared, feared every moment, every breath when he would give
up to pass away, only made worse by the crowd, the Council, everyone yelling,
running around like mice on a sinking boat. There was nothing, the guardians
dispatched to Ursus for military training, their veterinary having holiday
away in Rhodes, leaving not even a single person in this whole damned city who
knew the slightest fart about wyvern healthcare! They came, one hour shouting
down each other for rolling him on his back, next hour to roll over his
stomach, one self-appointed charlatan wanting to stuff him with emetic, the
next proposing to feed!

Probably the only useful result of the panic was the delivery of a new barrel
of water, and to my insisting, a vat, but even that only happened to late
afternoon. I filled it with water, placed it next to his head, and asking
someone I felt capable, we lifted his head over it. He lashed his tongue in,
so we cautiously submerged the lower jaw so he could drink which he did, so
much that the vat had to be refilled.


Later night thankfully the crowd abated, and by the passing of dusk, I asked
some of the remaining people to help rolling him to his other side. Thankfully
we could perform this without too many arguments.

We were sitting under the dark starry veil of night, a few determined people
surrounded by lit candles. A bizarre ghastly catafalque for a moribund dragon.
I could hardly grasp this was reality, that the Messenger could die, that his
everlasting consistence, his steady weekly visits could end one day, yet I was
there. I looked in the mug-sized yellow eyes, the wide silt-pupils,
remembering their joyful appreciation of many years, now staring bleak, barely
showing life. I listened the inconsistent breaths, fearing the hour when they
ended, when his soul passed away leaving us behind to trudge through our
mortal lives in this harsh reality.

I was falling, falling deep, plunging into the darkness, a swirl of dragons
up in the sky, rays of light, soaring up and away, far, far away. Golden eyes
watching me, I reached out, but couldn't grasp.


Someone shook me up. It was early dawn, another person was just collecting
remaining candles. Realizing where I was, I turned to the Messenger's body
fearing the worst. I thought he died, eyes shut, motionless. Who woke me up
however held my shoulder, and noted he was sleeping, with very slow, steady
breaths.

We so did nothing more than guarding him as with the sunrise people started to
linger in. To my worries, soon the same confusing hell started to brew like
the day before. At first they were just inquiring about his state which we
couldn't answer, just trying to hush them, to let him sleep. However, as the
more people arrived, the worse it became.

Then the Messenger awoke. He could barely lift his head, and his body was
twitching while steadily breathing which I hoped was a good sign. I could get
some to help me to clean up around his groin, then we rolled him to his other
side again which he now assisted with very weak motions, and helped him drink.


I hoped whatever happened to him wasn't fatal and he could actually recover,
however I realized that this awful mess on the town square certainly wouldn't
do any good to him. Just about then, Arne himself trotted in to greet me. He
was shocked by the sight of a wyvern here in such a state, asking me what the
bloody hell happened here. I told him, also that he seemed to be a little
better now, but this place was just terrible for him.

He parked his horse, and offered me he could get a lumber cart arriving this
morning to carry the Messenger to the sawmill, hoping that would be a more
peaceful place for his recovery. I could only agree. He immediately set out
for organizing this, first consulting the post officers then the Council
taking almost an hour. Being done with that, he immediately rode off to hurry
the unloading of the cart.

I felt it a long time. The poor wyvern's eyes twitched to the motions, the
swirl of crazed people unsettling him, failing to understand he needed peace
and solitude. Townsfolk came asking about his condition, I assured them that
he might be okay if they just left him alone. I didn't entirely believe this,
but that was the best to put them off. It didn't help since others came with
the occasional hopeless stubborn ones who believed they knew the best his
necessities. I was so relieved when Arne's cart finally pulled in!


Crouching down to his head I tried to shake him a bit up, showing him the
cart, hoping I could get him understand, to get him cooperating. He could
barely hold. Consulting Arne we gathered a bunch of willing strong men. Two of
us placed the head on the deck, then all the eight of us including Arne and
the teamster crouched under the chest to lift. We, at least those from the
mill, prepared to experience the weight of a large log, doubting it was even
possible, so were surprised that he wasn't even so terribly heavy after all!
As we pushed overboard, he seemingly realized our intention, and weakly tried
to pull himself forward, so eventually with combined effort we got him up in
a rather orderly manner, resting his head on the box, the tail left to limply
drag on the ground.

The teamster jumped up on the right, me the left, tucking my palms under his
head ornaments to comfort him, then Arne rode by our side, giving the command
to go! We could barely start when shouts from the crowd notified us that a
wyvern was approaching the city! Glimmering, tones shifting, all the colors of
a rainbow! It was a gold! I was both mesmerized by the sight and scared
terribly, in my mind the Chancellor's wyvern returning, him looking back over
his shoulder before the pain, the darkness!


He however landed orderly on a clear spot of the town square, very close to
us, without harming anyone. A young man jumped off his back, then the gold
just raised his head as he laid down on his chest, and erected his entire
ridge! I hadn't seen anything so wonderful before, the delicate long green -
gold needles growing from sparkly frills of every color shifting by his
motions could only leave me staring in awe. The entire square was struck,
frozen staring at the living manifestation of pure regal majesty. I could only
notice the man he carried by that the wyvern kept turning his head towards
him!

He approached with a confident gait, wore some light chainmail armor partly
concealed with white garments, a large bow laid on his back, a sheathed sword
on the side, and over the chest, on the white base, two intertwining dragons
were prominently displayed, the coat of arms of the Antaran family!

Reaching the cart, with a single harsh command he demanded our teamster to
get off which he did promptly. The man jumped up, I could see his face, clean
however rigid features, but before I could truly realize his presence, he was
kneeling, pulling off the glove of his right hand. Silent, he put his palm on
the Messenger's muzzle, looking down in sorrow over him. It only lasted a few
moments, then as sudden as it happened, he sprung to stand, his authoritative
attitude returning "Who is responsible for this?!".


Nobody responded everyone being dumbfounded over the events. With a sudden
turn, he grabbed my collar with an impressive grip, pulling me up, yelling in
my scared complexion "Which of you scum did this to a free dragon of Drino?!".
Arne came to my help, "My liege, please let him go. If anyone, he is the least
responsible of your dragon's sorrowful state". He let me go, turning to Arne,
"Then who?!". "Nobody is. He suffered a rash illness. The boy before you could
explain for he nursed him in his direst hours". He responded on normal voice
"Dragons don't get sick out of the blue. Where's your council?".

He dropped off of the cart, then Arne led him towards the city hall until they
met the confused authorities by his wyvern. Collecting myself, I could catch
his name and title from their upraised arguments: Dave Khorton, representative
of the ministry of foreign dragon affairs or something like that. The
returning voices of the crowd muffled their further discussion, all what I
could make out was some "death penalty" in some variations, somehow related to
the dragons.

When it was over, Arne told me he will follow us to the sawmill to supervise
our handling of the Messenger. Just great, I thought, from the demented crowd
of the town square into the clutches of an eminent maniac equipped with a
whole damn wyvern. We settled on the box, Arne rode a circle to recheck the
cart, then yelled out the command, "March!". However, we barely sprung
in motion when from behind a harsh voice shouted "Halt!". It was the maniac.

"Give that dragon some water!". Oh, okay, I thought, he couldn't have known we
let him drink before we heaved him on the deck. So picking up a man we filled
the vat to raise it on the box helping him with water again of which he only
used a little. Relieved, we settled again preparing to go, but a harsh "Stop!"
cut an end to it again.

"The dragon's tail won't drag on the ground!". I stumbled down in disappointed
confusion thinking what the heck we were supposed to do about that. "Clothes!
I demand clothes to be brought here!". A few people did so. "Wrap that tail
up. Start at the tip!". So we did, tying various garments on to cover the
underside until several of us had their upper torso naked, even Arne, dignity
set aside, turning in a muscular barbaric horseman. Only then he mounted his
gold wyvern to command "March!" at last.


Our little group ambled slow through the streets, slowly leaving bystanders
behind casting long gazes over the rare sight of the majestic gold wyvern.
Awe mixed with fear, the memories of the Chancellor's visit still vivid, and
while the wyvern himself didn't do much to earn any kind of reputation except
for just being magnificent by nature, his rider's authoritative outbursts
quite shaken up even those who didn't already lose their normal composure by
the Messenger's terrible malady.

We did our best to turn back followers until farther out of the city we shook
off the last. Finally, peaceful silence. I rested my palm under Messenger's
ridge, caressing the back of his head with my fingers, and first since the
disaster, I could see appreciation as he narrowed his eyelids. It filled me
with warmth and hopes, my thoughts getting lost in the pleasant rattle of the
wheels. A powerful voice put an abrupt end to my daydreaming. "Halt!". Not
again...


"Unwrap the tail!". Confused, we did so while he got off of his dragon.
Examining the pile of clothes he fished out ours rudely tossing each of the
garments to their respective owners, then scooped up the rest to discard them
by the side of the road. Arne followed on instant, picking them up rather
throwing on the deck, noting that two days from now a wagon may return those
to the city. He acknowledged, then turned to his gold, briefly gesturing
something. The ridge completely flattened as he walked forth, head low,
pushing it below the Messenger's tail, to lift it settling across his
shoulders. It was peculiar. Dave then demanded my place on the box, so I was
expelled to the deck to settle myself between the rails and the wyvern's neck.
We continued in this configuration, the majestic gold dragon peacefully
ambling behind like a foal, just on the rope of the other's tail.

By a thought I asked "Pardon sir, shouldn't I ask Arne to ride forth to
arrange the preparation of some meal?". I realized suddenly that it could
have been quite ambiguous while I intended to ask this for the Messenger. He
however responded "Did he vomit?". "He did yesterday noon. He is empty since
then". Dave fell silent for some long moments. "... Maybe better once we
arrive."

During our travel I noticed Dave caressing the wyvern's ridge just like I did
with his glove off, looking at him almost all the way. His gold didn't seem to
be concerned following us in peace, looking almost sad with his completely
limp ornaments and slightly downwards facing muzzle. It felt so bizarre, so
surreal, to be stranded on a cart by a who knows how sick brass wyvern barely
able to move, some important Antaran lord on the deck of the same lowly
vehicle with a regal majestic golden dragon servicing as a mere carrier for a
tail! Fairy tales soaring the skies, I beg for your forgiveness!


Eventually we rolled into Arne's domain, under the high wizard's tower, the
windmill, a fitting eccentric palace for our strange group. Arne quickly rode
up to gather some strong men while directed us to the stables, suggesting the
clearing of the archery range a good place for Messenger, concealed from the
hill and with that the turbulence of the woodwork operation.

Being done with that, in agreement with Dave, he saw for arranging the
preparation of some meal for the wyverns. I assisted with that and oddly Dave
kept sticking around, carefully observing. Messenger was very weak, but to our
relief, he ate with some help to hold his head, assisting him swallow, which
he appreciated. I recited memories of the bizarre man of my childhood, and
noticed how Dave knew the same technique, seemingly pleased with my usefulness
in the task.

He only removed some of his equipment from his wyvern after the feeding was
over. Consulting Arne, he wrote some reports, then returned, putting the
sealed parchment in a container of the gold's harness. Then, once again, he
started gesturing, this time briefly I even felt noticing responses, small
motions of the head, tiny tongue flicks. What were those?! I couldn't
determine since soon the wyvern turned away to check for a suitable runway and
took off. Dumbfounded, I asked where he went. "I sent her off to Drino to
deliver my report, of course. She will return tomorrow noon. And by the way,
Xipa, she". It hit me like a wagon of bricks. "Did... you just... talk to
her?!". He was startled, then just left "I need a bit of rest. Don't let me
find you here when I return, understood?!".


With that, I rather left to look after my regular tasks in the mill leaving
Messenger to the attention of a groom, confused about this man's attitude
while the unanswered question kept poking at my curiosity. Never heard of
anything like this. I couldn't believe it was possible to tell a wyvern to go
all the way back to Drino and return. True Messenger did that since I breathed
air, but I always thought he simply did it by routine, his rider abandoning
him for some reason in the past. Yet I couldn't know how I could approach him
to ask.

I ran into Arne, and while discussing some accounting details over some
furniture wood, it occurred me I missed what was that ruckus with the Council.
He explained, and it struck me bad. Dave suspected that someone attempted to
kill Messenger by poison that day, feeding him a tainted offer! Why anyone
could have done that! What a rotten mind such a despicable deed demanded, to
seek out for destroying such a peaceful gentle giant like him! Now I
understood what the "death penalty" I heard was about, killing a dragon
belonging someone indeed was penalized as such, and that's was just the law as
it read, not even considering who the dragon belonged. But could this even
apply to Messenger? Anyway, it gave an explanation for his harshness.


As the afternoon faded, my ability to rule over my worries waned, eventually
persuading me to visit the archery range no matter the Antaran lord's explicit
orders. I found him there, in simple working garments, grooming, cleaning
Messenger all by himself. Before I could approach, he sprung dropping his
brush, exclaiming "Wasn't I clear?! Get off of here!". Startled, humbling
myself, I apologized "Please Sir. I am worried. Is he all right?". "No! He
isn't all right! After what you despicable scum did to him!". "Sir, I beg for
your forgiveness... He didn't even take my offer. You can talk to dragons,
here, try me, ask him!". Suddenly, it occurred me that my gift was still in my
bag "Here, this was what I meant to offer him! See!". Before he could respond,
I tore its wrapping, and took a large bite, gulping it down as promptly as my
gorge permitted.

He stared me bewildered. I raised the meat to continue, but he held up his
hand, "Stop". Messenger behind turned his head, finally of his own strength,
to nudge Dave's shoulder, looking at me with expecting tongue flicks. He
motioned me to come forth, into the wyvern's range, who started tasting for
my morsel. "Give". So did I, letting it disappear in the thin silt between the
jaws. He straightened his neck low forth, however didn't swallow, rather
twitched, with an eye on me. Understanding, I followed to crouch under his
throat, and started gently stroking, feeling his dewlap, He tilted his muzzle
a little up, anticipating in delight how I caressed him, pushing my fingers in
his flesh for massaging his tiny meal's way down, seemingly enjoying reciting
how we fed him at noon.

\- Can he stand up?

\- No. He is still very weak, barely able to comfort himself in his rest...
Good his little sparks returned... Stay.




A distant, strange world
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


We sat there silent, the Messenger's neck serving for our back-rest, watching
the darkening tones of the dusk. I broke this peaceful serenity asking on a
hushed voice whether he had any suspect. "Everyone... The Council, the
townspeople, Arne, you, especially you until now... The outworld is growing
strange... Not safe anymore". He gazed still for some long moments into the
purples of the sky. "A year ago the Ursus Chancellor's dragon attacked Kipso
here in Tikira... Oh, of course you can't know that". So that was the
Messenger's name. I however didn't say a word, letting him continue.

"Material fatigue... Those heartless bastards who concocted that idea! If it
passed, several innocent people would rot in our jails for the oncoming
decade. It is not something to be taken lightly! We however knew it long
before the official verdict arrived. Kipso recited us what happened. We let it
pass, we let you stay with your belief that our office flawed, even paying out
a few compensations for lost mail. It is outrageous if his state now is the
consequence of the Chancellor's personal vendetta! He should be grateful for
he didn't have to scoop up the remnants of his imbecile animal from a crushed
attic!"

"I tell you. When a heavy brass grips a slender gold by the shoulder firm,
that's called a death dive for a reason! Kipso is wise, he didn't use his
advantage to kill, just to warn, even though by dragon norms he could have
well finished him for his outrageous act of humiliating him!"

I indulged his words in terrified awe as the events, the unfair aerial battle
played out in my mind again. It was true! I could see the Messenger taking the
dive, crashing in the gold hard, the fall! Then, he spread his wings to let
go. I imagined what if he didn't, what if the bodies plunged deeper, how the
Chancellor's wyvern could barely recover even then!


A few silent moments later I came to ask what will he do then about Kipso.

\- Let's hope in a few days he will regain enough strength to fly home with
us.

\- Will he ever come back?

\- No. This place is no longer safe for his timid innocent mind. He will spend
his elderly days with our people away from the dangers of this betraying
world.

So the days of the Drino Messenger was over. A few more, and maybe that was
the last I ever saw him. I just stared down in front of me in the darkness
lost in my sad thoughts, until I spoke to ask "How old is he, anyway?".
"Turned eighty-four this year. He should still have a good thirty to live".


Next morning we fed him again. He kept teasing us to massage his throat and
neck for every gulp even though he wouldn't have trouble swallowing anymore,
but we gladly helped him seeing his recovery. He still couldn't stand, but
could use his limbs to roll, to comfort himself sprawling out, so no longer
demanding our assistance, however enjoyed when we did, seemingly appreciating
much how we caressed him.

Work however called for me, and I jumped in without worries over him having
any trouble, knowing Dave will be there anyway, probably still frantic about
someone trying to poison him.


After noon, to my surprise, the gold wyvern really returned, descending
straight behind the stables onto the archery range. Some of the workers
sprung in awe, however Arne hushed them, promising he will try to coax Dave,
or as he referred there, the Antaran Lord, into arranging a demonstration. I
was dismissed so I could meet them if I pleased, with the task of trying to
get this done.

I found them all there, to my astonishment, the majestic regal golden dragon
nuzzling with the brass while Dave was removing her harness. That done, he
caught me promptly to deliver the riding gear to his room, which I did even
feeling honored that I could set my hands on real dragon equipment.

It wasn't exactly a saddle, at least it was something very different from
the ones used on horses. I could only see riders on flying dragons for very
brief moments when they descended or took off, and I always wondered why they
laid flat on their back, anyway at least now I could observe how this worked
out with their saddle. A strong harness went around the neck to support an
elongated padded surface with a distinct wide recess across the entire length
of its underside presumably for the spine, ending in a strap which forked to
form a cinch around the tailbase. On the riding surface I could identify grips
around the shoulders, and also several dents, at the front presumably serving
as a seat, lower for the knees, then at it's end, sturdy stops jutted out,
likely serving as stirrups. The harness provided anchorage points for
additional gear and sacks. It was quite large, however lighter than I
anticipated. I laid it out in his room with cautious devotion, exploring,
admiring its features for a while, grateful for the opportunity.


When I returned I found both wyverns sprawled out, Messenger on his side, Xipa
on her chest, the wings extended wide on her sides sparkling in a myriad of
colors cast over her natural grassy green, with Dave working on those with a
brush who she watched over with a flat ridge.

I went to check the Messenger, who welcomed me, then started to roll on his
back which he kept failing until he managed to get his right arm across his
torso. He just remained in the position he ended up, then started nudging me.
Dave shouted down "Help him straighten his wings!", which I did with some
effort. Returning, he kept poking at me with his upside-down head, a bit
confused since I had never seen such a turned over dragon before, I reached
out for his jowls, stroking, which he appreciated, the more so as I started
massaging the underside of his neck.


A bit later I recalled Arne's request, and politely asked Dave whether he
could arrange something. He agreed, just requesting me to wait until he
changed into his uniform. Leaving, he suddenly turned back exclaiming "And
don't attempt approaching Xipa!".

I wondered why. Here was I, alone with the two wyverns, who would know? She
just rested sprawled out as Dave left her, calmly watching us with a raised
head. Such an opportunity! I patted Messenger's dewlap hoping he wouldn't mind
it, and slowly started approaching anyway with open palms. She just looked
down on me without any apparent motion, just following until I arrived almost
under her nose. Then, all of sudden her ridge shot erect as she stared me down
with a firm gaze!

I tried to raise my hand, but a brief snap of the jaw halted me! I wanted to
kneel down, but she again expressed her disagreement! Slowly, I tried to back
away, but again she snapped in the air, firmly holding me in the grip of her
gaze! I just stood there dumbfounded until I noticed her ridge falling, her
eyes drifting away. When she felt calm, I again tried to just humbly slink
away, however as soon as I made the slightest motion, she again went all stiff
and irate! She left me without choice but to wait for Dave's return.


\- Can't I leave you with such a simple request?!

\- Please Sir, her magnificence mesmerizes me! I just wanted to...

\- Nobody touches her!

Struck in confusion, I tried to retreat, but again I met her stern gaze for my
attempt. Scared, I begged for him "Please, could I...". He stepped forth,
patting the gold's neck who at last turned her attention to him. He then
walked and crouched down to Messenger to pat his jowls as well, letting his
palm rest on his dewlap.

"Don't take it harsh... Let's visit the mill then". He stood, again gestured
something to his wyvern who seemingly acknowledged, stretching to stand, then
following us behind as we started.

On the hill we found a larger clean area to gather the workers who soon
collected to watch her in silent awe, first time for most to see one of these
wonderful beings this close. When everyone was here, Xipa resting on her chest
in the center, Dave motioned some brief signal to her.


She slowly raised her ridge letting the Sun sparkle her features as she
meticulously observed each of the small bunch of her admirers. Without hurry,
she got on her wings and feet, to tiptoe a circle, sometimes briefly shaking
her neck sending wonderful swirls of rainbows down her gorgeous skin. Facing
us, she lowered her head, the frills and needles spread out on her fully erect
ridge, and started to unfold her fingers to show us the full glory of the
wings glimmering a myriad of colors.

It was a living wonder, an unfathomable miracle sending shivers down us,
everyone, something which we couldn't imagine existed unless we seen for real!
The sturdy workers of the mill stood and gazed speechless at her majestic
perfection, feeling lucky to be chosen to witness this manifestation of pure
beauty!

Then, with a sudden move, she sprung, spreading her wings wide towering on her
slender hind legs, the head raised high for a moment mesmerizing us with this
sudden outburst of glimmering majesty only to promptly bend in an arch as she
let go, falling down forth with jaws open wide, to storm over us!

I jumped and fell on my back, noticing people rushing away screaming in
terror, but a moment later everything went silent. I collected my shaken
composure to sit up pulling myself across a log. She was just resting in the
center calmly, the wings neatly folded up by her sides, the ridge again laying
flat on her head. Such a scary trick!


At the evening we cleaned and groomed Messenger again which he appreciated in
delight, for me even seeming like pretending himself to be weaker than he
really was, nevertheless I did my tasks gladly seeing him being pleased.

Meanwhile, I pondered over how I could ask Dave how he can talk to the
wyverns. Finally, I brought up the performance at the hill, praising its
awesomeness, querying whether he taught Xipa to do it.

\- They aren't lowly menagerie animals! She did that by her own will!

\- I apologize. I may be very wrong, but it seemed like you motioned her to
start.

\- Yes, I did so she knew everyone is there! She likes to impress, to be
adored, but she is frustrated out here away from home, with people she doesn't
trust!

\- What is she like at home, does she trust people there?

\- Not everyone, but there are a lot she does.

\- Do you let them touch her?

\- What?! Who am I to tell her that!

\- Aren't you her owner?

\- Listen, boy. She is a free dragon of Drino, just like Kipso and all the
rest. Nobody owns her! They are entitled to nobility by birth or by becoming
part of our dragon society. She is actually my superior since am of nobility
by her will, her trust in me, her friendship and allowance to ride her, all my
ranks are tied to this bond with her! Show her more respect or we shall finish
this talk!

\- I'm sorry, forgive for my rudeness, how could I... I didn't know, I
apologize, here I understood they were owned like animals.

\- Because they are! It is outrageous! Your people tear the young away from
their parents to raise them in custody, never even giving them a chance to
learn their language! They are raised into dumb miserable shells, a disgrace
of dragonkind, unable to survive without man! Drino's free dragons can fly far
out in the world, know the ways of wild dragons, even the golds, the royal
magnificent golds of the distant lands whose chicks are imported for
millions, who breed in our city! I see you all think me a lord, a nobility of
the higher class just because I ride the sparkly wonderful Xipa! In our city,
she is just the same noble dragon like any of the brass, no more, no less!


It was dense, words stuck in me, I felt my world shattering. With apologies I
concluded our talk with Dave to allow me some solitude to think these over.
The ways of Drino felt overwhelming, how it was possible to have dragons as
free citizen? As nobility even? If it weren't for Messenger, I wouldn't
believe it all. Dave felt very devoted, not like someone who bent the truth,
and I really couldn't decide over Xipa. There were sure wild rumors from
Drino, stirring my interest, but they felt so much like fairy tales, and now
it seemed reality was even more insane than the wildest of those.

Would I have to learn the dragon's language if I was to go there? Would I have
to serve one as my lord? Would I have to scribe letters for them? Suddenly a
mental image of a forger formed in my mind, hammering over a circular saw,
looked over by a huge muscular brass wyvern who just dictated a reply for
Arne. My lips stretched to a smile, dismissing it as something maybe a bit
overly eccentric.


Next day when we were about to feed the wyverns, Xipa halted Dave before he
could carry his load in front of Messenger. He also motioned me to stop. I
thought she was impatient and would like to eat her fill right away, however
when she got assured in that we wouldn't move, she padded over to the sprawled
brass.

She started nudging him, but he only responded with reluctant swipes with his
open mouth, occasionally extending his neck forth, looking at us anticipating.
She didn't stop, tucking her muzzle under his arms, trying to lift, yet he
only rolled away grudgingly. She even tried to push her entire head under his
chest to get him stand up, making me really worried about the needles of her
ridge, but to my astounding, they weren't brittle like I thought, simply
bending when she pulled off to spring straight as soon as they were free.

Finally, she walked behind him, over the lazily splayed out legs, and bit down
on his tail real bad, filling her entire jaw. Messenger's head sprung, but
just irately swiping towards her as she, after firmly settling her wing-paws,
started to lift! He had no choice, but to stand his hindpart up, which,
greatly unwilling, he followed with his front. His muscles rippling, shaking
by the effort, but he at last stood! Xipa, still with firm grasp on his sorry
butt, pushed him fort, which he abode, staggering towards us.

As soon as he got in range, however, he gave up with such a sudden collapse
which got Xipa tumbled over him as well. Not even caring about the apparently
piqued gold who kept resting where she fell, on his back, he started flicking
for the meat, and again very much demanded us to massage his throat for every
swallow.

When his meal was over, he spread out in delight for a nap, slowly dozing off.
Just then, Xipa decided it was her turn, and as she woke from her rest, with
one wing-paw, she stepped on Messenger's back making him jolt!


I had to work, but occasionally I checked in to see what they were doing. They
kept teasing each other, the Messenger seemingly just wanting to sprawl out,
to rest, while Xipa poked him, sometimes just rolling him around, gently
chewing on his arms or neck which he enjoyed in delight, then attempting to
heave him to stand, to move, which he didn't.

So bizarre, I thought as they played with each other, a gold wyvern with a
brass, different castes by my old assumptions, seemingly coming together in
Drino. I barely remembered the dread of just two days ago when I was so sure
he could die.




To talk with dragons
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


At the evening, being done with my duties, I tried to catch Dave again, to get
him talk about his home, the dragons, hoping I could better understand now. I
again apologized for my disrespect insisting that it wouldn't happen anymore
which he acknowledged. Then I asked how he actually talks with Xipa which
bugged me the most.

\- You could see that, it is nothing magical, just motions. They use their
head, the mouth, the tongue to express themselves while we respond using a
language of the arms and the palms.

\- They? You mean all dragons can speak this way?

\- Yes, they do, it is in them, even the wild dragons have a rudimentary
language, we just build on that knowledge.

\- How could this be? I thought they had to be taught even to understand
commands.

\- Again!... I sure told you to forget those flawed assumptions! Your people
capture dragons young, giving them no chance to learn their natural language!
They are always broken beyond healing, failing to understand the fundamental
concepts of "me" or "you", the past and the future which only another dragon
can teach! Your people's ignorance destines them to the deprived life of
mindless animals!

\- Sorry. Please... Couldn't your people do something about this? To spread
the word to stop abusing them?

\- Wish if we could! But those who own them are the military officers, the
nobility, the higher class up to the King himself! Do you think anyone could
convince, say, the Ursus Chancellor that maybe the way they raised that
imbecile gold wyvern of his wasn't right? Do you think they would prefer to
have them having their own will?

\- Guess not.

\- Yes... It demanded our old traditions so we got here, alone.

\- The Trial of Dragon?

\- Yes, that. So at least they teach this in your schools.

\- They do, along with the history of Drino as part of our nation. The Trial
was bizarre. Your people really went out in the wild all alone, to wander,
sometimes for years until they could somehow earn a dragon's trust to return
on his back?

\- Indeed, they did. Of course only a few with the courage, but they did.

\- Sorry, I don't mean to offend you, but our instructor said most probably
just shot one, to heal him making the bond.

\- Then your instructor was flawed. I see you have a nice Dragonbane recurve,
you should know that well then. It is plain suicide! True that some used
arrows hoping it would be less dangerous that way, but those were stingers of
love, dipped in drug concoctions to make the dragon woozy and merry. It was
rather just one of the strategies to get near one, not any less risky than
others. Only a fairly good archer could achieve it, aiming well and with
proper draw so he could deliver the drug without causing him lasting pain.
Fail either, and he flees or rips you apart! You would have to do this, always
tracking and finding the dragon again at least a dozen times just to get him
recognize you. Gaining his trust and friendship was still a very long way from
then!

\- And how this Trial of Dragon got you to your today's dragons?

\- The Trial was a way to earn nobility, to earn respect. But that was on the
dragon's part. You were recognized for your capability to earn a dragon's
friendship, that you could conceive one to serve the Antaran Lords through
your bond with him, so it also only lasted until you held that friendship.
Just like today. However, those dragons, unlike yours, grew up wild. They so
knew the language of the wilds.

\- Did that have anything to do with how dreaded your dragon forces were in
battle?

\- Of course! Even before our ancestors understood their language, they
signaled to each other in the air, encouraging, coordinating movements, so the
riders could concentrate on the field barely having to tell them what to do! A
wise captain could do the lead on a dragon respected by the rest, and they
followed without intervention!

\- Then how you came to understand them at last?

\- It isn't known. Maybe it came with the bonds. Dragons like to play mimicry,
their wild language even shows lots of that, they confirm and confirm again
what they said to each other. Our ancestors likely taught them things, just
like everywhere else in the world, but also tuned for their diverse visual
expressions, eventually understanding. It is fun to watch communication with a
wild dragon. It is very theatrical, entertaining as they use most of their
body to convey their intentions, then acknowledging and repeating. They can
get simple things like "follow", "glide", or directions with minimal motions,
used in the air, but they struggle with complex things like "meet at cliff
tomorrow dusk".

\- Wish I could see that! But as I perceive then their language is not too
expressive, or is it?

\- No, the wilds have only things like that. They can understand "me", "you"
and "he" or "she", the concept of time, several verbs related to flight and
other motions, nouns for landmarks and prey animals, some related adjectives,
and are capable to name each other and locations, but about that's all.

\- And what about that you use when talking with Xipa?

\- It is the Draconic our people stated to develop some fifteen decades ago,
with the intention to realize a common language between people and dragons so
any dragon could talk with any person.

\- Wouldn't it have been easier to realize a spoken language?

\- No. We don't understand why, but it seems impossible. They only use voice
to convey some emotions, purring, growling, roaring, maybe they can't even get
anything more complex out of their throats. There is also something with their
hearing. Today, there are a few dragons who understand some of our spoken
words, but even they seem to be doing that by reading our lips. So if we want
to talk with them, we have to use motions.

\- Oh, sorry, so how it went with Draconic? Was that really some coordinated
effort like you told?

\- Likely not, rather fusing several of the already common practices. The
University of Drino however eventually recognized those, and established the
basic grammar of the language, both the dragon and the human side. New
revisions keep coming out about every decade as it evolves. It is a mandatory
subject in elementary school, actually a condition for gaining citizenship on
the Antaran lands.

\- But how you teach it to the dragons? Do they also have some kind of school?

\- No and yes. It is one of the strangest development of the past century. The
dragons of Drino not only learn their own wild language, but also pass down
and over their knowledge of Draconic. They teach each other! More than that,
they even expand their side of the language on their own!

\- How's that?

\- We think that maybe it is caused by how our dragons form a society, how
they no longer depend on scarce food sources, rather on filling roles.
Interaction along them on our land became more important, probably also driven
by us. A few even went that far that they feel neglected if they only hear us
talking, a foreign language to them.

\- So I guess your today's Draconic got something quite complex!

\- It is hard to answer. It is still something very simple to our human
languages. It is sure important, but only a part of the essence of our
dragons. They are changing fast, pulling our entire world along with them, but
they retain their qualities for we adore and respect them.

It was very convincing, making me want to see this land even more, a different
world with dragons who talk! Talk? Maybe not really, something more intricate
than mere talking even if the language itself was simple. The way Dave
interacted with Xipa had some slight impression of arcane ancient magic, the
silence, the small motions of conjuring. Wish I could talk with her! Wish I
could exchange some words with Messenger after all the years!


Morning I found Xipa serenely caressing Messenger, laying partly on his back,
the paws of the extended wings grabbing his, while she massaged his shoulders
with her jaws. How much I could envy him, laying there stretched out in
pleasant delight, enjoying the treatment of that wonderful gentle female! I so
didn't want to disturb them that I just stood there indulging the sight
dreaming for a long while! Maybe it would have been even longer if Caron
hadn't stalked up on me blowing away the haze shrouding my mind!

So we rode out into the forest to do our regular duties also involving a bit
of hunting to serve the increased needs until about noon when I returned to
help Dave feeding the wyverns.


When we were done with the preparations, carrying our heavy loads of meat to
them, Xipa again came forth to stop us. This time however she selected a large
chunk, but to my surprise, didn't swallow it. She padded back to Messenger,
making me think she would feed him herself, but it neither happened! She just
hung the lump of food before his jaws, just out of his reach, shaking her head
a bit, teasing him with the smell, just allowing him to lick it with his long
tongue. He extended his neck anticipating, almost snapping, looking up on her,
the treat which he could only taste, but she didn't give in, keeping on
wriggling the delicious piece!

Finally, he mustered his strength, dug his claws in the ground to push his
body forth with his wings, fixated on the meat. Xipa, however, was wary, and
just jumped back enough so again Messenger was a tongue's length away from
his goal, which tongue he kept lashing out eager. But he wouldn't even want to
try to stand. He again pushed forth, Xipa again backed a bit. Then again. She
kept shaking the piece wild, just out of his reach, until making him wading
after it! I really started to worry whether Messenger was truly that weak he
couldn't stand, that his sickness still clenched on him, that maybe Xipa's
actions weren't right, probably torturing him.

Then, all of sudden, Messenger sprung, and started to run after the elfin
female! I was bewildered, so this damn wyvern kept playing it on us, serves
him right! Xipa, the slender, agile gold gleefully trotted keeping her prize
just out of his reach, he followed, all stretched taut, jaws open, only seeing
that piece of meat always evading him! I almost burst out laughing!

A short while later he came to a dust-blowing halt, raising his head,
seemingly thinking hard. Then, slowly he turned towards us, apparently dawning
on him that we were here with all the rest of the food all the time he tried
to chase down Xipa! He casually padded to us, just letting himself collapse
upon his arrival, pretending to be so terribly tired and sick he couldn't even
move, eager for our attention and the meal prepared for him.

Xipa when she noticed she isn't followed anymore, pretty much piqued, trotted
near us to slump down on her chest, and was chewing on that piece of meat
irritated for the whole time we treated Messenger, who again only wanted to
swallow with our massaging of his throat.


Sunset found us again at the archery range, watching the peaceful play of the
two wyverns, a brass and a gold, just like the crest of the Antarans. The
magnificent glimmering wings of Xipa sprung taut as she impressed Messenger,
then she fell, took a few strides mimicking a take-off, jumping in a twist, to
spread them again, the sparkly rainbows against the colors of the dusk. He
lazily followed, walking, barely making an effort, but eventually broke, let
the wizardry of motions take him, to run for a wildly flapping relishment. He
was free!

Dave caught my attention for a talk.

\- He is ready for the journey home. After a good sleep, tomorrow, we will go.

\- So it will be... He really won't return?

\- No. I told you, this place is not safe anymore for his innocent mind.

\- But if he wants to return?

\- He won't. We will tell him how some wretched soul fed him tainted gift. It
will crush poor old Kipso's world, but has to be done for him. He will stay
with us.

A long silence fell over us, just watching them, joyful, playing, unaware of
the harshness of reality coming to crush, to bog down dreams. I came to break
it.

\- Could I visit him later?

\- Well, if you plan to be moving to our lands, then likely.

\- Yes, I wish to see Drino.

\- Honestly, you don't look like one who could afford such trips... Unless...

\- True. I planned to do it serving as Protector, going down through Cerva, to
Kort, there taking the northern road.

\- Indeed, that's the shortest route by land, but it also goes a long way in
the Seehal, the no man's land. I hear it is loosely traveled, and wild dragons
are also more common there. It may take awhile to find a group you could go
along with.

\- How long the way through Seehal is?

\- Maybe a week or more by cart. Shar is the borderline settlement of our land
on that road, you may access air mail every day once you reach there.

\- Is that such a large city?

\- No, just a village, but it is important due to the road. Thanks to dragons,
the mail service is very good across our whole land, if you have any relative
living anywhere at us, you will likely be able to access him in at most four
days turnaround time.

\- You really have so many dragons?

\- Yes, actually once you arrive to Shar, you no longer really have to worry
about wilds since there is barely any expect on some very remote areas! Our
dragons fly everywhere and they take care to keep things in order along their
kin.

\- How come you could achieve that? What happened to the wilds?

\- Just what we talked about yesterday. The dragons of Drino always knew the
ways of the wilds, they even bred on our lands since centuries unlike anywhere
else in the world where they capture them young. They eventually assimilated
them, and maybe even spread their side of Draconic out of our lands.

\- That's amazing! But for the road, do you know about anything I could use on
the other side of Seehal?

\- Sorry, not really. Anyway, at Kort, you could still decide whether you
rather take the slower water route by finding some ships to serve. You go down
the Mera, into Ugaros, then at the port of Yerkas, you find another up the
Lena, into Drino. You might have trouble though with the language.

\- Thanks. By the way, if I ever get there, could I send mail to a dragon?

\- Once you know Draconic, sure! You want to meet Kipso so much?

\- Yes, I do! He inspired me from my youth! But I don't know Draconic.

\- Don't worry about that. But then, first I should name you for him, so he
will know you want to meet him.


He so woke up to approach Messenger, who meanwhile settled down with Xipa to
enjoy the later hours. With some motions, he caught his attention, making him
raise his head observant. Looking at Dave he did some small tongue flicks,
then turned towards me. I asked whether I should do anything, but was just
hushed down. He continued his gestures, exchanging a few glimpses with the
wyvern, who occasionally turned to me. I noticed they repeat the same figures
a few times before they went on, finally finishing. Messenger pushed his
muzzle towards me, Dave telling I can stroke him, that he is glad he knows my
name now. He then left us together for a short while before returning.

\- What did you tell him?

\- Wait a bit. Here, I wrote some instructions and the gestures of your name,
you can give it to a mail officer to scribe a letter for him. You should send
it to Drino then, he will likely live there.

\- Thank you very much! Sorry if it may sound silly, but he can really read
it?

\- Of course not. There are personnel for these types of mails who will
deliver them to the dragon, reading out their contents. Normally these are
expensive unless you are a dragon yourself or you send to one who trusts you.
See, I sealed it with my name, insuring that you and Kipso trust each other,
so you can send him a mail free.

\- You... I am in your debt, Sir, this is amazing!

\- Don't thank me, its Kipso's will. I just served him.

\- How so? What did you talk about?

\- Not much actually. But I talked with him about you today, seeing he healed.
He thinks about you almost as a friend, truly the only one in Tikira, and I am
sure he will miss you dearly later. You should honor this gift of his!

\- I do... I very much do, and will miss him...

\- He also told you have a good hand. I hope this hadn't got any hidden
meaning!

\- What's on your mind! I would never...

\- Of course, just kidding. He just meant you know well how to touch him the
right way to soothe his itches, to massage him, understanding his gestures
even without language. Kipso is like this, he loves caressing, and actually
enjoys much even the ploys of Xipa!

In the darkening evening, Xipa was again mellow, laying by the side of
Messenger with a wing lazily spread across his back, nuzzling him serenely,
which he appreciated almost dreaming in his sprawling posture, his eyes barely
open to reveal two small sparkles in the night. I could so so much envy him,
his mild innocence, the gentle giant of my childhood, how many of us, small
kids, encountered dragon in him! And it was to be over tomorrow, maybe
forever, the long lasting permanence, the ceremony of the arrival of the
Drino Messenger never to happen anymore. The world was cruel.




Farewells
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


So the day came. Dave exchanged a few gestures with Xipa, calling for me to
bring her equipment, which I did with mixed feelings. I felt honored for being
allowed to carry a true dragon saddle, to observe it, to feel it's intricate
features dreaming of flight, however it also meant their visit was over, and
with that, Messenger would be gone.

I approached silent, to meticulously arrange the gear for Dave to check and
prepare, which, crouched down, I kept watching. Suddenly I felt something wet
and soft against my neck above the shoulders! I jolted to turn, just to look
in Xipa's eyes up close, her nose hanging just inches away from mine! On a
hushed voice Dave told I could touch her then.

It felt so amazing that she, before her leave, came to express her acceptance!
I slowly reached up in revered silence to carefully settle my palms on her
jaws, gently stroking. She hovered over me, mildly resting the tip of her
muzzle in my hair, allowing me access to her soft spots at the base of her
head which I massaged in delight, mesmerized by the myriad of colors sparkling
under my fingers as the green-gold scales shifted. She was real, a real gold
wyvern! I never thought this could come true! I got lost in my hazed dreams,
my hands caressing those wonderful scales, precious emeralds full with life!

Time however, the unforgiving, marched forth, waking me again. She moved away
to see for Dave, who already prepared the riding gear. He called me, to help
him with it, which, eager, I accepted, just so I could keep touching her. He
showed how to align the saddle proper on her back, checking for having her
features properly, conveniently fitting under, then fastened the harness and
the cinch around her tailbase, carefully arranging it so it wouldn't interfere
with her sensitive areas. When it was done, it still took some turns into the
mansion to have every of his belongings reaffixed on her, finishing with him
returning to change into his uniform.


Meanwhile, before everyone would come for the farewell, I walked up to
Messenger, resting sprawled out, enjoying the warmth of the morning Sun. He
nuzzled me, offering his ridge for my caressing which I gladly did for him,
trying to be really good and gentle for I knew this might be the last time I
see him for a long while. He closed his eyes pleased with my treatment,
probably even dozing off, dreaming. I could so wish it lasting!

However, soon Dave returned with Arne and his family, Caron, and a few of the
more established members of the sawmill. I carefully backed away from the
wyvern by habit, not wanting to wake him even though he would have had to very
soon. Dave thanked Arne's hospitality, seemingly getting over his fears of
someone here wanting to harm the wyverns, and caught Xipa's attention, likely
telling her that they should prepare to fly.

She so padded up to Messenger, gently stroking him awake, then demonstrating
her huge wings like the evening before, calling him for flight. He, however,
balked, not even willing to stand up, just looking at Xipa eager, demanding,
almost begging her to let him rest, to caress him just a little more.

She gave in, starting to groom him. She gently worked her jaws on his neck, up
to his shoulders, then carefully moving over his back to continue rubbing. She
worked meticulously, throughout with some impressive care, massaging him into
a delighted slumber. We could only adore her dedication if only we weren't
gathering for a farewell! But neither of us had the will to intervene, to
break this admirable scene of the two. She so continued, almost resting over
him, but gently caressing until we could see his breathing going steady as he
finally really dozed off.

With utmost attention, she tiptoed off of him without a touch, turning to one
of his arms, gently stroking its entire length for a while. He didn't move,
completely lost in the world of his dreams. She cautiously backed, to silently
move around, coming to a stop standing over his sprawled hind legs, head
raised high with sparkling eyes. That was evil, just plain pure evil!

A sudden swoop with open jaws, she bit down hard, right on the base of his
tail! Messenger sprung like his butt was on fire, which wasn't far from the
truth! He jolted forth, wings flapping in scared horror, unaware of the
disaster which struck him! Then he noticed Xipa and her elfin countenance,
realizing what ploy she planned on him! He rushed her down hard, but she
wasn't such a devil who wouldn't know how to play her pranks proper! With a
few strides just short of his reach, she took into the air! Messenger, eager
to spank her, followed, spreading his wings to take off!

He did a small circle trying to catch up with her before he realized just
where he was, and finally came to land. He was tricked. She won, everything,
it was over, tricking him into flying. I could so feel sorry for him, however
sure Xipa was right with her methods, after all, she managed to stir him up,
eager to move!


Xipa soon landed, and head held low, almost submissively approached Messenger.
He just looked stiff and stern, standing, wing folded to his sides, accepting
her without a twitch. She raised her muzzle to gently groom his neck bulging
with taut muscles. He could only last for a short while before giving in, his
ridge falling back, the body going limp, forgiving, turning on her to return
her caress.

Dave approached her with a few gestures, then turned back to us, firmly
shaking hands with Arne as the noble owner of the mill, then also with me, for
a moment raising from my class in front of these people with this formality,
calling me a friend of dragons. I felt so honored by this gesture. He then
waved farewell before hopping on the waiting Xipa, soon aiming for the run.

Then came Messenger. He, a little stiff once again probably to recover some of
his demolished pride, marched in front of us with a short parade to
demonstrate his perfect features, then, loosening, he offered his muzzle to
everyone of us including the two Arne kids letting everyone to stroke or pat
him. He left me to the last.

So it was over. I reached out for him, feeling his cheeks under my palms for
maybe the last time, digging my fingers into his soft jowls one final
occasion, leaning my forehead between his nostrils. Then, I let him go, a
thread snapping, something seeming as permanent as mountains finally crumbling
apart. My mind hazed, only to be jolted by a sudden warm wet touch on my face
as his thick tongue slid across my features!

When I came back, I could only see two passing shapes in the distance. He
remembered me. There was a friend waiting for me somewhere far.


That afternoon I discussed my notice with Arne. He was sad to hear it, but
knew I will want to go one day. He only suggested me to wait for a week, to
think it over which I accepted, admitting I needed to consider whether I was
ready for my planned journey at all.

He even organized my duties at the mill so I could visit the city twice that
week which I used to visit the Protector's Training Ground to discuss with
Carl about my skills, how I would hold in real situations, suggesting me
further practices of certain aspects.

Of course I also spent a good time with Mother, discussing her about my
intentions. It was hard for her to see the time coming, but anticipated it
even long before she bought my Dragonbane, so at least it wasn't a harsh
surprise.

Next Wednesday, out of curiosity with some hidden hopes I lingered on the
town square waiting for the Drino mail. A messenger came at noon, a brass
wyvern with a rider, but it seemed like they put some insane effort to round
up the grumpiest pair of the entire Antaran land. People scattered in
disappointment when realizing there wouldn't be any chance to interact with
this one. It was really over.


When the week passed, I reinforced my decision to Arne, agreeing to serve for
two further months before my leave, which was fine for I could plan and
assemble my travel gear during that, also selling some articles which wouldn't
be useful anymore.

Along other things, I acquired a large sac for water, whetstone for my knives,
flintstone, a sturdy metal pot for stew, more arrows, both broadheads and
stingers. Visiting the pharmacy, I also purchased alcohol to treat wounds
along with some vials of antidotes for the more common snakes, hoping I will
never need those.

Then, with all the gear I had and packed up, I went to the training ground to
see how it affected my capabilities. Carl suggested me this, that it could be
a lifesaver if I were to march by foot. He even filled up my water sac before
letting me try to aim. It was enlightening, bleak prospects! Again I struggled
to get below two hundred and fifty yards, which meant my chances to survive a
wyvern attack suddenly plunged from perfect to a mere probable! I accepted his
assistance planning out my packaging, his advises on how I should balance
myself to be able to demonstrate my attacker fast that I could shoot at him.
Soon I could get down to two hundreds, then to the end of the months, I
usually got it at one hundred fifty.


I also took my chances to visit traveler's inns and taverns, to catch some
gossip, also inquiring some knowledgeable-looking men about the way to Drino.
Most suggested me to rather go up the Mera, into the heart of the country, so
I could avoid the Seehal on a safer route, but that was also a much longer
trip. Others proposed the port, to go by water through Ugaros, although they
usually weren't much fond of those lands, some even describing those people as
underdeveloped blasphemers, still worshiping wyverns as guardians.

I also noticed a genre of Protectors who were rather silent, barely sharing
travel gossip. Somehow their composure had an effect over me, making me wish
to get to know them, to see into their secrets, however they never opened up
in the places I had access.

For the short route I could collect that there were a few small settlements
north of Kort, maybe a day's ride on a good horse until Zarvo, which was the
last. Then anyone traveling further was at the mercy of the Seehal, and the
few water holes and wells spaced out by the road until reaching Shar. Who knew
those described them as dangerous places to live where everyone carried bows
which didn't necessarily help them to avoid wyverns.


The months passed, one day finding me hugging Caron for farewell pats, with
Arne calling me in to hand over the terminal notice. To my great surprise, he
didn't simply terminate my contract, but also handed over a commendatory
sealed with his name, even suggesting that if nothing else, I could visit the
smith in Drino from who he ordered the special blades and saws for the mill.
He was a good man even then.

I looked over my now empty sleeping quarter, hauling the last pieces of my
belongings, not forgetting to pat the heads of the two nile monitors, the
little dragons of Arne before catching the loaded wagon departing for the
port. The forest soon shrouded the clearing, then later, when we were out, I
kept watching the peculiar sight, the windmill hovering over the green woods,
the eccentric wizard's tower with its inhabitants with whom I spent my last
five years. A chapter of my life faded away as it disappeared behind the
sparse trees and houses of the outskirts.


I settled for deciding for the route I would take by opportunity, looking
out for favorable possibilities in either direction. A merchant wagon came
first with one of those rather silent Protectors, by name, Mark, telling me
they are going all the way down to Kort and even further by the Mera. He told
he would prefer to have someone to share his duties with, however the merchant
wouldn't pay a further man aboard despite his objections for the threats. I
said it is fine with me since I just planned to get to Drino.

He also suggested me to buy a traveler's hunting permit all the way to Zarvo
since such an investment might well repay. He also noted I should skip the
rest since truly the Seehal is a free region where nobody cared, so purchasing
a permit there is honestly a blatant rip off. I took his words, in the office
insisting that I only plan to go there until they finally gave in.


So it eventually happened, I was in our old home, indulging the familiar
smell, the features of the clay walls, the sight of our few old and worn
furniture, my last moments with Mother. I was eager to go, but farewells were
never easy. It seems I was to follow my father's heritage, good or bad, my
blood called for it, to embark on an adventure, to see the world, to chase my
dreams of dragons.

\- I will come back. I swear I will come back flying, to take you with me one
day!

\- Sure you will, my Son, you will...

We so hugged, one last time, crying, before I hauled my belongings which would
be my home on my back for a long time. We parted, I kept looking back, on our
small house, Mother just standing there in the door waving, smaller and
smaller every occasion until losing behind a curve of the street. Would I ever
see her again?




Prospects, perils and dirty politics
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It suddenly dawned on me how alone I was on my way to the town square where I
was supposed to catch up with my wagon, two barely known people who I will
have to trust into the lands unknown, leaving everything behind. My other
side, my adventurous blood was however boiling, eager to see what is beyond
the borders of Tikira which I only knew from stories before!

The merchant was a grumpy geezer who couldn't even meet me without bursting
out in complaints about what this will cost. I reassured him that I won't take
money, just wanting to get to Kort in exchange for my service as Protector. At
least that made him allowing me to get on.

We discussed a bit with Mark, who suggested me to take the first turn
guarding, just until leaving Tikira's area, so I could get a feel of it, then
I could wake him. He directed me to the top of the wagon, noting I should just
sit there, observing.


With that settled, the journey finally begun. I watched the buildings of
gloomy old Tikira passing from my high ground, occasionally looking up the sky
remembering the instructions of Carl from the Protectors' training ground,
however I could only see one of the guardian wyverns floating up there. For
a while there wasn't any danger maybe expect for probable wild animals.

Slowly the last houses of the city passed behind, the wagon rattling down the
road, bringing me away like the flow of the river, hard to swim back once
being in the drift. Dryer lands came with a few trees scattered, the forests
by the Mera lining the horizon on the south. A small caravan rolled towards
us, with a person, another Protector sitting on the top of a carriage, we
exchanged greets as we passed by.


It was about time, so, not even stopping our ride, I climbed down to wake
Mark, who, putting on a hat, came up to share guard with me.

\- So you are new to traveling. Are you worried a bit?

\- Honestly, maybe so.

\- Good. It keeps you alert, watching the sky. The sooner you spot them, the
better.

\- Should I prepare my bow then, or only when they attack?

\- You should, but you don't need to strain yourself. Just lay it by your
side prominently in a convenient reach, even that's enough for most to ignore
you, to see you are prepared.

\- What about other animals?

\- Most will stay out of the road, or will back away. The teamster will know
when to rather give them way. If it proves necessary, you should use
broadheads from point blank range preferably on the skull. The Dragonbane is
powerful enough to punch through killing most swiftly.


Thankfully it wasn't necessary as we only saw some giraffes in the distance
until early afternoon when we rolled in a settlement overlooked by a tall
wooden tower. I asked Mark about it, he enlightened me that such towers served
as guard post against wyverns where they had none to patrol the sky.

We didn't travel forth that day anymore for the increasing threat of the later
hours, so I got some time to look around. It was a dusty small village, if
Tikira was gloomy, then this was something even below that. An inn, a tavern,
a small woodwork shop, and about that was all this place had to offer. We
didn't even take the inn, sleeping in our wagon with one of us staying on
guard.


We departed before dawn, as soon as the sky started to brighten. The road
wound down by the Mera, occasionally approaching the forest, offering a few
stray trees to provide some shade, then leaning far again into the dry open
lands. We passed two similar small settlements, the second guarded by two
such towers, occasionally meeting other caravans, and a few more horsemen
including mail officers.

Then, all of sudden, I noticed a large shape up in the sky! A shiver ran down
my spine, with shaking hand I felt for my bow, not even really scared, rather
excited. A wild wyvern! I kept staring at the black silhouette as it glided,
far above, past us, without paying any attention. I followed him until his
contours disappeared no matter how I strained my eyes.

Before noon I exchanged with Mark, telling him the story. He just shook his
head, noting that it was nothing that uncommon, farther down there would be
more, and I should get accustomed to picking that which poses a danger.


We ended the day's voyage in Cerva, a larger town with five towers which even
had a small market and a post office. No messenger wyverns, though. I walked
down to the port, just to watch the preparations of a ship's leave, then at
the evening we had a proper dinner at an inn.

The day after was spent rather uneventful. I had seen a wyvern again, but it
was just like the first, gliding away in a pleasant distance. What bothered
us more was a group of elephants marching across the road which made us stop
to wait their passing from a safe distance. Later Mark woke me up for some
gazelles he spotted, which we stalked down together to get something for a
good stew.

It turned out we really needed that since we happened to stop in the most
miserable little village of our trip this far. There wasn't even an inn or
tavern there, just a smaller guard tower. We bartered some meat for spices to
get a proper dinner.


After our meal, with the merchant and his teamster returning into the wagon,
curious, I asked Mark whether he could tell me some of his travels.

\- If you want to hear of the Ursus nobility, balls and nice dames of distant
lands, you are out of luck. Being Protector brings you to places, but its not
a clean and tidy profession for most. You neither seem someone who enjoyed
spicy tavern stories.

\- Rather tell me about wyverns.

\- So you want me to brag over my skills shooting at them then?

\- No. I just wish to understand them better. Do they simply attack out of
hunger, hunting?

\- Honestly?

\- Yes, honestly. Is there anything else?

\- There is.

\- What?

\- You are going to Drino, yes?

\- Yes, I am. Why?

\- So you are going to leave this region of the country soon.

\- What it has to do with wyverns?


Mark let out a sigh, to start telling a story.

"It has a lot to do. It was maybe a decade ago, a caravan of three wagons of
two families, three of us, Protectors, guarding. We were heading to some small
settlements somewhere near Jala, can't recall where exactly. Two of us were on
the rooftops when the other guy noticed a wyvern diving for an attack. We both
aimed at him, but he kept descending just until coming in range, then halted
for a low glide. We followed as he made a turn to make a second attempt. Just
before we could release our arrows, my companion let out a horrible wail!"

"I could barely notice the second attacker just impaling the poor man on his
claws, sweeping forth towards me! I rolled, losing my bow, to fall on the
ground, saving myself by mere inches. I yelled out our situation, just to see
the third of us stumbling out of a wagon, also failing to realize we had two
wyverns! He aimed for the first he saw while the other swooped down from
behind. I kept shouting at him, but it was too late, he turned, only to have
his face ripped off first!"

"Alone, without a bow I was useless, and those beasts kept attacking in
perfect cooperation, bringing down every man who had any chance to hurt them.
Maybe three or four hunting arrows from weak bows, but they failed even to hit
before all of them laid incapacitated or dead on the ground."

"Honestly I panicked, fleeing like a coward, under a carriage, climbing up its
supports to hide pressing against the bottom. It was terrible. Those wyverns
landed and systematically killed every remaining person including the
children, breaking down the wagons to access them! They didn't even care for
the horses sprinting away in terror! Luck spared me again shivering under the
rampage!"

"Why I am telling this?... It was not like how normal wyverns behave. They are
mild, and usually only attack to sate their hunger, alone. While those two
destroyed the caravan, I could notice several fresh stinger wounds on one of
them. They were a pair, likely victims of a capture."


\- I never even thought of that such terrible things could happen. Is this any
common?

\- I don't know, but certainly more than a century ago. I heard Nadar, where
the gold wyverns are imported from, is almost destroyed by now, people unable
to grow crops due to the relentless storm. Most of the brass chicks come from
Labion, a country by the sea, the land of fish-eaters which title they earned
since that's their only way to feed themselves. Prices keep increasing, and,
while reluctant, our King gives out more capture permits than before to expand
his air force.

\- You mean the King's orders are flawed?

\- Condemn me for it, but yes, I believe he is driving our nation to its doom
in the long run! It is a slow spiral into the depths! Capture a few, and sure,
you have an air force you can command. But you also agitate the wilds. They
are neutral to us, but it won't stay that way if we continue this practice!
Then you will need more wyverns to protect the cities, and the circle is
closed!

\- I heard they breed in Drino. Why they don't here?

\- Honestly I don't know. There are rumors that they do, but certainly not
enough to cover the losses even by aging. Something is severely flawed in our
methods.

\- Then why don't we adapt Drino's ways?

\- Those are different. Our people want dragons which they can control. Those
of Drino, however, are independent. Despite the probable will of the Antaran
lords, they simply won't rally for a war away from their lands.

\- Why would they want that? There was barely a conflict since decades!

\- You weren't away from Tikira before I guess. It's time to open your eyes
and see. Something is on the move since the past year, and I feel it came near
to eruption. You better not linger around if you want to get to Drino at all.

\- What? You think the Antaran lords plan to rebel against their King?

\- It might be, but the situation is quite shrouded. The King is filling up
our armies, but I doubt it has anything to do with the Antarans. Maybe more
likely preparing a war against one of our neighbors, maybe even hoping to
went the wrath of the Lords in a cooperative effort. Either way, there is a
risk of the border closing down.


It was dense, overpowering, suddenly gloomy old Tikira felt like an island of
calm peace which I left to jump headfirst into a storm. The prospect of
wyverns seeking out for revenge, the menacing dark clouds of a war against the
unknown were stirring. So Drino probably was neither such a fairy land I
imagined by Dave, or maybe Mark was flawed by his assumptions?

There was no-one to answer. We continued down by the Mera, passing dusty worn
settlements almost tainting the beauty of the savanna. They made my home feel
rich and vivid, I never thought the world being such a sullen place like this
road suggested.

Then I had my first wyvern attack which strangely didn't even touch me too
deep. I noticed him far, just under the Sun, descending. By routine I reached
out for my Dragonbane and a stinger, aimed, and soon with a bank he gave up.
For a moment Mark's story seeped in my mind, but he was alone, just a hunter.
Maybe my mood was just too low even to be scared. I wondered how the Seehal
could be any worse.


We approached Kort four days later. From the distance I spotted a wyvern above
the city which only unraveled then: to my surprise it was walled, massive
stone formed even the base of the towers embedded in it. So that was how a
fortification looked like! I woke Mark as we approached the gate. He also
noticed the dark shape above us, and remarked it being odd.

The city was smaller than Tikira, but at last, it showed signs of life. The
streets were very narrow, but we met people, even some dogs barked after us.
After a turn, we suddenly found ourselves in the open, a town square with a
bustling market!

Mark thanked my support during the trip allowing him to have some sleep at
last, and noted they will stay for a day or two before moving on if I wanted
to visit. So we bid farewell, and taking my gear I plunged in this new world
to explore it.


The market offered a few oddities I didn't see or notice at home, even some
strange fruits presumably from Ugaros or even farther down the river. Regular
food prices like that of bread were steeper than at us, however the rest was
about the same. I took my time to check out some guilds which interested me,
such as the knife makers, comparing my equipment to their offers. I noticed
how this place has considerably wider selection of military gear like swords,
armor and various related articles than my home, however I didn't quite want
to spend any of my valuable money on those, finally only purchasing a few
additional broadheads to see whether they are better than what I already had.

Wandering around I found the post office, noticing they also have air mail,
from Drino and Ursus, weekly. I wondered about their messengers, however it
looked like I just missed that from Drino.

Then I ran in a recruitment station with several flier for those who could
read. One in particular caught my attention announcing the arrival of the
Leopard Air Squadron with four brass wyverns and a gold, asking citizen to
get accustomed to their sight, suggesting not to approach either of them.
It made me wonder why they are here when Tikira in my life never saw any of
the air forces except for our guardians.

My explorative walk ended down at the Mera, the port, where a large grain
barge was just being unloaded with several carts waiting for their cargo.
Realizing the opportunity, I hurriedly inquired about the destinations and
whether they had any vacancy in Protectors. To my relief that going up to
Zarvo had, so I negotiated a contract right on the site, to leave the next
day before dawn.


Having my immediate tasks accomplished, I wandered back to the town square
hoping for finding some cheap room, and maybe even Mark if they also decided
to stay for the night. I had luck with both at an inn with a zany but
perfectly intimating name "Pigsty", especially targeting travelers with thin
purses. To my surprise, soon after dinner Mark pulled me away from the crowd
for a private discussion.

\- What happened?

\- Nothing right now, but something might very soon. I guess you saw the
wyvern squadron's presence.

\- Yes, I did, but what about them? Is this anything unusual?

\- It is. The aerial forces don't leave the plains without good reason.
Military training, maybe, but nobody saw them doing anything excessive apart
from a few demonstrative formation performances, rather for reassurement than
any training.

\- Do you have any idea?

\- They might be preparing some action. People even saw members flying off,
maybe to nearby towns carrying messages or orders, but all goes in strict
secrecy.

\- What purpose? Is there any uprising or conflict here?

\- I couldn't hear of any. Honestly, I can't make out what they are up to.
Five wyverns aren't many, but they are clearly here on purpose. Anyway, I feel
we should better leave before it turns out. Found anything for your
destination?

\- A cart to Zarvo tomorrow, yes.

\- Good. Don't miss it!




Onward to Drino
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


We rolled out the north gate still in the dark. The crew of the cart was
small, just a teamster and a merchant apart from me sitting on the top looking
out for hostile wyverns. A second one however followed us, but only going up
half the way, with an older Protector.

Leaving the proximity of the Mera, the environment turned rather dry, only a
few trees for an occasional shade, from my vantage point I could see far,
after the Sun went up, behind us, the fortifications of Kort were still
visible for a long while. Straining my eyes, I could spot several of the
larger animals in the distance, mostly small herds of zebras and antelopes, at
least in regions where the grass didn't grow too high.

The more unsettling were the presence of wyverns, from now, after noon, there
was barely any moment when there wasn't at least one of those ominous shapes
gliding somewhere high. The second day I even witnessed a real hunt, very far,
but it was possible to make out as the large mass swooped down crushing its
unknown prey. To my surprise, the other cart's Protector let out a small cheer
to the sight.

Villages were even more scarce and desolate, some were barely a few clay huts
around a makeshift tower. They were hunting colonies with very few guilds if
any, only offering low quality common wares. Almost everyone, even woman and
older children we could see carried bows, instruments which were barely fit
for hunting, much less for doing any harm to a wyvern. I wondered how they
survive out here.


The third day we met a larger caravan traveling down, about a hundred men with
a few horses, and two carts carrying their belongings. We only exchanged
greets, however the sight was certainly unusual. In the evening we got to
know from the locals that they received an urgent call by air to rejoin the
military at Kort.

This seemingly was common practice in the poor regions. Able men enrolled to
receive military training, so they could gain a small yearly fund for being
available to the Army, and now they were needed. I wondered what was going on,
however there was no way to receive any answer.

The cart following us emptied by Tura where they were to turn back, to collect
skins and other wares on their way back. We continued north, towards Zarvo,
now our turn being to distribute our load on the way. My job got more tiresome
as I had to look out alone, it being my sole responsibility whether we arrived
or not.


One day I met a peculiar sight which despite my duty kept teasing me to
follow. We trundled through a region with taller grass, leaving the privilege
of distance to me. Somewhere farther west I noticed some strange gray mounds,
rocks I thought. However, as we advanced, their configuration shifted, but I
wasn't certain whether it was just an illusion by our movement. They kept my
attention fixed for long until I realized what they were: Elephants submerged
in the tall yellow grass to their shoulders!

I almost exclaimed in amazement for this discovery when, shocked, I noticed
the dark shape up the sky just on the edge of my vision! Frantic, I grabbed my
bow and stinger, jumping to aim, but it was already up on us, the wings
spreading wide under the Sun! Late! I let it fly! A spasm ran down the
creature causing it flap, which was our luck, I still barely escaped the
impact by throwing myself on my back as our horses pranced in terror!

Gathering my strength, I sprung grabbing another stinger to aim while yelling
down to the teamster to steady the carriage! The wyvern crashed down almost in
front of us, I hoped dead for a moment, but to my dismay, proper on its
wing-arms and legs, now arching up in pain, the arrow jutting out from the
chest. With a sudden bow, it yanked it off, throwing away, then gazed back
snarling! I held stiff, ready to shoot on the wobbling cart! The beast with a
death glare fixated upon me turned around, facing us with his entire body,
with merely a thin streak of blood on his breast!

Then, with a frightening pop, the wings snapped open as he sprung on the hind
legs, releasing a horrid roar! I barely saw our horses fleeing, but I held on
the now stable ground, the arrow still on my taut bow! The wyvern collapsed,
apparently ailing again, growling before with a sudden turn strode to jump
into the air, fleeing.

I let out a huge sigh. It took us hours to collect the scared horses and fix
the harness before we could continue. The teamster saved our lives by cutting
them off just before the threat display! I didn't admit my attention lingered
away, but memorized it deep that they might use every distraction to their
advantage.


The rest of the travel thankfully spent rather uneventful, maybe for my more
keen watch still shaken by the events, keeping the occasional wyverns gliding
above from trying. There was only a ground affair with a pair of lions, but
they rather avoided us in the end.

Zarvo wasn't a big town either, but at least it had a proper guard tower, and
a small market under it. I even noticed a post sign, announcing the delivery
of mail by air to Kort, Shar and Drino every Thursday, but again I just missed
it by a day.

I found a family who would settle me until some group arrived with whom I
could continue my travel with, through the Seehal. They also suggested me a
merchant by the name Marco who specialized especially in Drino related items
and exchanged money.


Next morning so I was visiting him to see what he had both in material and
information. He displayed many interesting but useless trinkets, small
elaborate wyvern sculptures including one bringing the Antaran crest to life
of delicate glazed porcelain, but also ones of use like knives, even two
swords decorated with dragons. I spotted some cutlery, clothing articles of
unusual style, a small casket, a curious gourd shaped as a curled up brass
wyvern with the plug in the open jaws. Since I had my own quite utilitarian
but well-serving gear, while they were nice, I didn't need anything of these.

Meanwhile, I asked about the Seehal road, how often it is traveled, how well
it is established, what perils it could offer and likes. To my dismay in
person he never saw it, only making trips to Kort occasionally to sell out
his merchandise. However, he told on average groups get on or come off more
often than weekly, and offered me a sturdy compass and a sketchy hand-drawn
map indicating landmarks, wells and water holes which, although a bit
reluctant for its credibility, I bought.


Then I noticed a small silk-lined box of books, something I realized I missed
since leaving Tikira. With his permission, I emptied it to check out the
titles. Two novels, "By the Wings of Thunderstorm" and "Green Gold Scales",
a history study on the fifteen years war, then something on astronomy, and one
reading "Principles of Machinery". This latter I snapped open, rolling through
I found a section apparently on windmill design.

Searching further I settled with two which particularly caught my attention.
One apparently covered wyvern anatomy, full with images depicting everything
from the muscular system to the intestines, the skeleton, the individual
limbs, even showing some intricate threads through the wings which I couldn't
figure out by watching. It was likely for physicians, upon closer look full
with words of some indecipherable script, so I rather set it aside doubting
whether it could help me in any manner.

The second was simply titled "The Draconic Language". By my first impression
it was just as indecipherable as the anatomy book showing several strange
drawings, symbols. Upon closer look in the first chapters however I noticed
explanatory figures, wyvern postures being linked to some of those, so I
thought maybe I could manage. It had a release date printed on its cover at
the bottom, telling it is four decades old. I recalled Dave, that he described
the language as changing fast, however this was still something better than
nothing.

I asked Marco whether there were newer editions of this. "No, these rarely
even get out of the country. Figures are complex to print, expensive, they are
only used in education. That one might have been discarded due to its
obsolescence." I asked how much it was, anyway, and got a small shock to the
price. Half of a month's salary at Arne!

Again I rolled through the book, with more attention to see whether it was of
any real use. More memories popped in, including that this knowledge is even a
condition for citizenship, and really, I wished to be able to talk with
dragons once there, and here was a chance! Finding that it contained a good
section on the language of wild wyverns, which I thought was likely still
valid, settled it: I needed the book. I did a bargain with Marco on it, also
including a hunt to scrape some off of the hefty price.


For days there was no activity on the Seehal road. Then a small caravan rolled
in from across. I pounced on the opportunity to inquire them, and they were
glad to offer help, maybe even simply to meet people after the long trek.

They were a traveling merchant and his family, specializing in carpets and
tapestries, now bringing fresh wares from the Antaran land to sell them out
for the higher classes of the larger towns, beginning with Kort. A single
Protector was escorting them for added safety since the head and his son were
also both proficient archers equipped with Dragonbanes.

First they helped me with my map, correcting some locations especially
concerning those of wells. They described the road as traversable, however not
necessarily discernible, pointing out regions where I might have to rely on
navigating by compass and after landmarks.

We exchanged a few words on wyverns concerning the threats, and, to my dismay,
they noted that a particularly aggressive one, a young brown female, might
have set up territory halfway in, described even by previous travelers,
attempting to swoop down on them three times during their pass. The son
suggested that if I was to go alone, I should certainly climb up trees for the
night at least in that region. I dismissed it in astonishment exclaiming that
I didn't lose my mind to go in there all by myself.


However, for the next days I neither got any opportunity to join anyone, the
road being dead empty. I spent the time attempting to pick up some Draconic
from the book I acquired. It was strange. As it suggested learning the
language of the wilds first, I started there, spending an entire day just
observing the coupling of symbols to various motions which were ample. Tilts,
twists, circles, shakes and bobs of the head, tongue flicks, its touches on
the chops, then entire complex neck motions, a few even using the wing-arm,
seemingly mostly the left one, and their combinations. Despite the good
descriptive figures, they were hard to connect, sometimes even to imagine what
the motion actually looked like in real life.

Worse, as I read forth, I had to realize these mostly would only produce a
meaning by blending together, and the grammar itself was also odd. An example
was the short sentence "Me take-off", and its several interpretations.
Normally the wyvern would bob his head deep for "me", then jerk his fingers
slightly wobbling the wing webs for "take-off", motioning a farewell,
suggesting the other not to follow. The polite response indicating the
acceptance would be "You take-off", the "you" expressed with a long, straight
tongue flick from a horizontally held muzzle. Raising the head with erect
ridge during this conversation indicated a friendly undertone, raised head
with flat ridge a sad undertone, while it could also be expressed in a low,
crouching, threatening posture with stiff ridge for anger. This, using "you"
from the initiating wyvern could be a very offensive territorial or protective
display, chasing the other off.

Seemingly their entire communication could have emotional undertones, but
adjectives also modified their signaling rather than adding new words like
in our language. Flipping pages I could see other examples beyond, but without
graphical explanations, using the symbols only I could barely imagine how the
motions should look like.


One morning I realized it was Tuesday, six days since I was sitting in this
dusty town, air mail delivery. At least something happens I thought. Having
nothing much to do I just waited by the post sign until a local, who turned
out to be serving as mail officer this day, asked me whether I had anything
to send. Of course I didn't have. He so rolled out a flag to wave it sideways
overhead towards the approaching messenger, who so soared past low without
landing. So much for any close encounter, even that frightening attack offered
more, let's get over another gloomy day waiting then, I thought.

The afternoon again found me there, just hoping to see the messenger again on
its way back, dreaming, how easy they pass the vastness of the Seehal within
less than a half day bogging down men and horse for more than a week. The
mail officer again waved the flag sideways signaling no mail, however now the
wyvern continued to descend, landing. He had a rider who exclaimed "Is there
anyone by the name Daniel Thorton here?". Confused I stepped forth.

He slid down from his saddle, patting his partner's neck, offering him a short
gesture, who eased himself a bit for it, to lay flat with spread out wings.
The rider called me a bit away for some isolation from the mail officer.

\- I was requested to send you a message over the dire situation emerging
between our country and Ugaros, and its consequences on your situation.

\- You mean between Drino and Ugaros? Why?

\- Absolutely not. Five days ago a large dispatchment of the King's Army,
supported by the Navy and at least the Leopard Squadron assembled in Kort and
started their descent on the Mera. They could be plundering the eastern
defenseless settlements of Ugaros by now without any declaration of war.

\- What? Are you sure?

\- Certainly. Maybe they didn't cross the border, but there is hardly any
reason to send such a large army down the river other than to threaten Ugaros
directly. I hope at least our Lords were notified of this act already.

\- But how? And why tell me?

\- A Protector by the name Mark Voron informed me a few miles north of Kort.
He had some friend with the knowledge of Draconic who silently signaled the
meeting point for Pipin. He also told me about you, that I shall notify you
should I still find you here, to haste your travel into our lands. I have all
reason to trust him since last week the Drino Messenger already brought
unsettling news, observing large military carriers descending from the port
while I myself saw the presence of an aerial squadron in Kort, and an odd
group of men marching down the Zarvo road.

\- So his instincts were right... What will you do then? I believe you had
good relations with Ugaros.

\- Yes we did. If this is all true, it is an open affront from the King,
starting a war without our consent against our friends, trampling in our
autonomy in such a despicable manner! With all honesty I don't know what will
happen, but the King shall be aware of our dragons' powers! If you so wanted
to be with us, better pack up and march right away before this hideous
situation escalates any worse!




Alone through the no man's land
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It was dreadfully clear, suddenly probably all diplomatic relations taking
such a plummeting dive. I couldn't fathom the reason, why this had to happen,
but it was here with all its menacing horrors. I stared bewildered after the
passing shape of the messenger, barely able to comprehend the gravity of what
he carried and was about to carry forth to his homeland.

Unsettling thoughts stormed my mind all night as I tried to order myself, to
reason. I was here in Zarvo, more than three weeks since I left home, unsure
of what to do. There was nowhere else to go than back all the way I came if it
was even possible, the adventurer sulking home to beg for a job after wasting
heaps of money in a fruitless endeavor. Or join the Army at Kort, enrolling to
support this despicable offensive against Ugaros throwing us in disrespect by
the Antaran Lords, and maybe all their dragons whom I so much wished to meet.
Memories of Xipa gently caressing and playing with Messenger emerged, her
elfin tricks now so adorable, to be swamped by the whole cause, the lifeless
poisoned agony on the town square. I had no choice but to go on, if alone,
then shall it be.


Early dawn next morning I so set out with my heavy packsack on my back,
determined to march through this vast land of desolation no matter what it
took.

At first it didn't even seem too hard. The road was rough, but present, I
even had the companion of a small hunting party who only forked off a few
hours before noon. They gave me last advice on utilizing the results of my
hunt and avoiding threats of the natural wildlife, also suggesting that being
alone I shouldn't even worry that much about wyverns who rather seek for
larger prey than a single man, but agreeing that I indeed should still rather
spend my nights on trees in darkness than relying on fire, better chances not
only against them, but also against lions. They reassured me that leopards are
uncommon in these dry regions, so at least I shouldn't really worry of gentle
clawed paws stroking me awake up there.

By noon I was alone, the tower of the city long disappeared behind the scarce
trees and grassy regions, with the road now rather resembling an unkempt path,
with grooves of old cart tracks occasionally visible here and there. It was
the wilderness, miles and miles down as I trudged forth, keeping half an eye
on my surroundings, other on the sky, prepared to use my bow in need.


I pressed on long into the dusk, without any remarkable event, stopping only
at a battered well to refill my water sack. That was about the only sign of
civilization I met the entire afternoon. I found a nice large acacia for the
night, however soon I could very much envy a leopard I saw once napping
pleasantly sprawled out on a branch which convenience seemed to be impossible
to adapt for myself.

The day after didn't offer much interest either. The path lead out into a
dryer region with scarce shrubbery and barely any trees, neither any too tall
grass to hinder vision. It was good for I could see farther, not having to
fear that much of any surprise from the ground, however it also exposed me
more to wyverns. I had only seen a few of them though, neither attempted to
make a dive.

Third day, spotting some gazelles I attempted a hunt, but gave up for having
no reasonable way to stalk them without cover. I packed enough food, so it
wasn't really urgent anyway, so I rather pressed on without really trying it
hard.


Maybe the fourth night, to my relief I met a nice stubby baobab which offered
quite pleasant accommodation after padded with some of my gear and the water
sac, almost making me feel like finally having a proper bed.

I also realized however that according to my map I was approaching to the
region where that particular aggressive wyvern was sighted. While I didn't
have any real accident this far, I could see elephants and lions to look out
for, so this another threat added to the bunch was really nothing I needed. I
tried to estimate distances, how long it would take to get through, and no
matter how I reasoned, it seemed like I would have to spend two nights with
that hazard looming over me.

Anyway, it had to be done to get across, and even though Mark's story kept
agitating me, I reasoned that it shouldn't be that dangerous. After all at
least a few carriages passed through unharmed, and none told about any
indication of her succeeding.


With my mind settled, I continued calm into the region, remembering to be more
wary than usual. These were rather open lands again relieving me from the
necessity of being too concerned about the ground, but the sky remained devoid
of any large shape. I stopped at a well, but it was dry contrary to my map,
although not a great trouble since I had plenty of water to last. I just
checked my quiver instead, to be certain I had it all right once necessary.

By late afternoon I started to hope to end the day without any sight, however
my luck didn't hold. Something approached from under the Sun, and took the
dive. I pulled my bow and stinger by routine to aim, hoping for the usual
retreat, which indeed happened, however allowing me a good view on her
features. A plain brass color with none of the black stripes of Messenger or
other wyverns I had seen up close, clearly she was that of the reports!

The attack repelled I continued my march keeping an eye on her. To my dismay
she didn't leave like the others! She soared without wingflaps, gliding above
in circles, sometimes breaking them for a straight line, but never leaving my
field of vision, although neither attempting another dive.


As the evening approached, it became even more unsettling. The sinking Sun lit
up her features as she patrolled above relentlessly, and I had to find some
place to spend the night. I was reluctant to climb up a tree with her
presence, fearing I could be trapped, but on the ground I was also exposed to
other animals. There was nothing to be done except waiting alert, waiting,
hoping for the situation to resolve in some manner. I settled down near a few
scattered acacias, still in the open under the darkening sky, watching her as
she kept on without a single wingflap, going and going around in circles.

It was no good for in the dark I feared I would lose sight, just enough for
her to attack. I already strained my eyes sore, alert by the danger, the
storm on the horizon which I couldn't hope to avoid. Scared, without any
better idea to save myself, I retreated under one of the trees, then finally
gave in to climb it. It was as good as sitting down there in the dark where
maybe I could spot her, but much less any other animal more adept in stalking.

The night fell upon me like a terrible bogging down mass, an eerie silence
without a single sound of any animal, unlike anything before. I knew she was
somewhere near, but I couldn't imagine where. I strained my eyes, the sky was
clear, the ground as far as I could see in the darkness, empty, without a
single movement. Sleep evaded me, my head full with ideas of her stalking
under the tree to silently rip me off like a fruit if only my attention
drifted away. The worst was the crawl of time, the waiting for the dawn to
sweep the blinding blackness away.


Morning finally came, but what a grim prospect! As the shapes unfolded, I
noticed her body, already awake looking at me up on the tree, just about two
hundred yards away, just so far so I couldn't hope to hurt her with my
stingers! And I had to get off, to continue, or hope her natural needs, maybe
thirst could eventually make her retreat! I couldn't afford to wait, there was
just no reason in it. I tried to start my descent, however as soon as I did,
she sprung to run towards me! I hasted, letting myself almost drop scraping my
hands bad, jumping to aim with her halting a mere fifty yards away, sending me
a deep gaze of cold death!

We stared down each other for long, she crouched down, ridge high, wings
expanded threatening facing me with my Dragonbane strung, the well-salted
stinger ready. I slowly started to back away which she didn't follow, only
turning aside once I made about a hundred yards, to run for a take-off.


It was a dreadful tiring trudge forth. The wyvern kept circling above
straining my already weary eyes long until noon when approaching a more
grassy region she left. Having the sky clear for an hour I let out a relieved
sigh, hoping I was alone once again. At a crumbling apart well which
thankfully had water I consulted the map, resolving to push on despite my
tiredness to get out of this cursed region as soon as possible, hoping that at
worst the next day it would be over.

Late afternoon however with a sudden swooping attack she returned again, again
to continue the drill on my nerves, circling above into the dusk, not allowing
me to have any rest! My numb mind shrieked in pain as I tried to find a tree,
to prepare for a second night under this assault!

I was stranded between branches again, weary, desolate and terrified, fighting
my urge to fall asleep, to survive this rotten evil! I ran into this, my
dignity and my wish to see dragons pushing me in, and now, one of them would
be my demise! I couldn't let it happen!

If the previous night was horrible, this was outright sheer terror. I dozed
off to be shaken for the sight of that devil stalking towards the tree, to
make me jump, draw my bow, stare in her deadly gaze as she scowled before she
would retreat back into the hell of darkness. There was nothing I could do,
only hoping that somehow this would be over, at worst the Seehal had an end
somewhere on the other side, also putting an end to this nightmare. Again my
concentration waned, and again I woke to fend off her, that stare of cold
death!


Morning again cast its first lights over her shape laying some two hundred
yards away, forcing me to slide down, to jump for aiming, to meet her wrath,
to stare in those eyes backing away until she took off!

I had to march, thinking that I could maybe leave her territory, putting an
end to this torment, watching her moves. But today, she didn't just fly up
there. With a turn, she descended in front of me, out of range yet, blocking
the road, staring me down! There was no choice, but approach if I ever wanted
to get across, bow taut, arrows ready!

She stood firm, chest deep, wings fanned out, glaring me snarling without a
single voice in a horrid silence entombing the entire land. I felt myself
deaf, only hearing my pounding heart and my own steps, one after another as I
got nearer. Two hundred yards. A hundred yards. She didn't move.

"Die you wretched evil bitch, die!" I let out my stinger, hitting her on the
shoulder, she pranced, roaring, to end in a stride towards me, attacking!
Another arrow in the exposed breast, and another, I shot wild until she fell
on her side in agony!


I collapsed panting, weariness taking me down. It was over. It took me a while
to realize that the wyvern was still there, alive. She was curling up in
pain, as far as I could see the arrows either fell off on their own or
removed, without too much blood. I hesitated whether I should try to kill her,
knowing that this state wouldn't last, and she may continue her assault, or
rather shouldn't risk it.

Suddenly she sprung her neck to face me, to flick her tongue bobbing and
shaking her head, then repeating the same figure again. Her ridge laid limp,
and I could see fear and sorrow in her eyes. I couldn't know what, but she
was talking to me, in Draconic.




The she-wyvern of the Seehal
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Bewildered, I wished to understand what she was telling, but the situation
didn't even allow me to try to consult my book. Although I lowered the bow, I
was still wary, unsure about what the change meant, however a little relieved
to cease the fight. I couldn't even know whether I caused her a fatal injury,
maybe piercing the lungs, however in my hopelessly drained state after the
days of terrorizing, it was beyond my capabilities to care about seeing her
agony no matter how pitiful she might have looked like.

She curled up again, trying to treat her wounds, as I could see licking,
removing the salt easing the pain. Some blood stained her breast, forming
small puddles on the ground, but her breath remained steady, not like
struggling for her life.


Realizing this was probably a chance for me to silently slink away at least
hoping she would stay and won't bother anymore, I moved on to get around her
by a wide arch. However, as soon as I started, she rolled on her chest to
stare me down agitated! It wasn't an enraged expression, but still alarming,
detaining, and I felt too weak to counter with my bow. I stopped. It was clear
by now that the injuries I caused were minuscule at least as for then, leaving
her perfectly capable to lunge and tear me apart no matter if I defended
myself or not. I knew I could probably kill her by a fatal shot slowly
depriving her of air, but I would be dead sooner.

The Sun traveled a good deal up, and we just sat there, still the same spots
about eighty yards away. She continued to lick her wounds curled up, but
whenever I attempted to move, she sprung to halt me. I was tired, my numb mind
barely forming thoughts, mostly wild about the dreaded prospect of being
eaten, however somewhat lulled by the apparent armistice. There was nothing I
could do, eventually I was to fall asleep and be done with it. I could no
longer fight, maybe not only for my weariness, but also for the sight of her
gestures, the thought that she talked, maybe a faint sense of hope, a hope she
probably didn't want to destroy me after all.


"Follow". After she walked around me keeping distance, looking back over her
shoulder she gestured. I recognized it, the same simple signal wilds were
described to be using in the air by the linguistic book, directional commands,
clear enough so I could remember. I didn't object. Leading the way so she
marched me back to the last well by noon, cautiously keeping distance,
occasionally snarling back if she felt I was too close, repeating the "follow"
signal when too far.

"Stay". I could make out this much as she repeated, then once again. Finally,
she gestured something like "Stay. Me take-off", the latter using the language
of the wilds, with low head and flat ridge, and leaped for the air. For a
short while she soared, gliding in circles, then straightened to fly off
westwards, the effect of my morning arrows apparently all worn off by then.

I could barely believe I was taken prisoner by a damn wyvern! I shouldn't have
stopped firing at her then! However, I could neither concentrate. For a while
I staggered north until finding a group of acacias, one of which I somehow
climbed to make my resting place on its branches.


Darkness greeted me when I awoke, with a slight tint of morning blue on the
East after a long, dreamless sleep. Slowly, recollecting the past days' events
I brought myself to my feet, preparing to continue, waiting for the world to
brighten up just enough so I could venture upon descending, to march further.

Soon I had to realize I wasn't alone. To my horror, a brown mound discerned
about three hundred yards away, the brown scaly mound of a coiled wyvern, who
just raised her head to watch my movements! I almost fainted boggled by her
frightful presence, just managing to strengthen myself to get down, prepared
to fire!

She, however, remained calm, just observing with a neutral expression, laying
curled up northeast of me, right on my way if I wanted to continue further
towards Drino. Nothing happened for a while, we watched each other, I was
weary of fighting, another futile attempt shooting her into retreat, but
couldn't figure out anything which could end this stalemate.


Finally, she heaved herself to stand, to slowly approach me with a complexion
I could only interpret as sad, alarming me, but stopping at about a hundred
yards away. She gestured something, repeating and repeating again, drooping.
Then, all of sudden, she sprung to let out a hasty "follow", and started to
march west for a few paces, waiting.

I hesitated. I should have been going north, and now here was this bizarre
situation with this strange wyvern attempting to call me away. Her ridge
raised showing anger as she exclaimed the signal again, expressing she
wouldn't tolerate my diversion. There was no choice but to obey her will.

It amazed me how she could keep on, walking on all four, the wing-arms and
legs for hours, keeping check of me, making sure I followed. It passed me a
few times when we marched through higher grass whether I could simply
disappear, but dismissed it knowing she could also use her flight to find me.
Sure I could fight her, but the chances were grim, and my curiosity also held
me from it. With this dedication I felt there was some other reason for her
actions than simply killing me for food. Her sullen expressions kept
returning, puzzling me.

We passed a large termite tower before noon which I remembered as a landmark,
however soon she came to a halt under the shadows of a smaller group of
acacias. With a queer contortion raising a wing, she scraped her neck with a
leg, then again signalled me "Stay. Me take-off" before abruptly leaving.


I pondered whether I could try to escape again, but dismissed knowing that I
wouldn't likely be able to leave her probable territory. It was dangerous
either way. Besides, my food supply was dwindling, necessitating a hunt. So I
rather climbed up one of the trees to see what this region had to offer.
Further west I was glad to spot a water hole likely having both animals and
some fruit to gather, so only with sufficient equipment I set off.

The area was good for stalking, so by late afternoon I succeed in getting a
modest gazelle, a bit large for my necessities, but I had ill luck with hare.
I got back to the acacias before dusk, the wyvern nowhere to be seen, so I
started a fire to make a dinner out of my acquisition, a decent fresh roast at
last using some of the spices I had packaged.


However, I couldn't get to enjoy it. Just when I thought it done, with a
rustling swoop-down she arrived, startling me fearing of conflict. She rather
stayed where she landed, some distance away, and again I noticed her
contorting herself to scratch under her ridge. Then she just crouched down,
neck extended forth, with occasional long tongue flicks, but otherwise didn't
move.

I tried to calm down, ignoring her to finish preparing my meal on the fire, an
awkward situation. Suddenly in terror I realized she could be hungry with me
blatantly agitating her! Struck by this possibility I heaved the remnants of
the gazelle which were the major share of it, and advanced her until I could
without raising her objections. I carefully set it down, then slowly backed
away to return to my roast.

As I returned, she cautiously advanced to my offer, but apart from a few
tongue flicks she didn't pay much attention, just settling by it, continuing
to look at me as I spread my dinner on my metal platter to let it cool off a
bit. Her anticipating gaze perplexed me so much I simply couldn't get to eat,
just hoping she didn't suddenly came to have a sudden insatiable appetite for
human flesh.

Finally, despite the conditions, I forced myself to start my meal. However
just as soon as I got the first bite, she started to lash out her tongue wild,
barely restraining herself from jumping! I suddenly understood, the smell of
my roast was stirring her so much! By this sudden impulse, the decision
formed, the hope raised that I could probably make some connection with her.
So I picked up my platter, and slowly started to advance.

My motions had their effect calling her to her feet, to advance cautiously
anticipating with taut neck, tasting the air frequently. Closing on her I
noticed her belly hanging low, clearly as a result of a successful hunt in the
afternoon. No wonder she didn't need that meat, however it astonished me how
she came to be interested in my dinner.

She became reluctant getting nearer than a few dozen feet to me, so I stopped
just holding my hands with the still warm platter out far, waiting for her to
advance. I was determined to meet her this way, to get her come if she so much
wanted my dinner.

She didn't. After a while unable to decide, she suddenly turned to a hasty
retreat, back to where she landed, coiling up. Disappointed, I started walking
back to my diminishing fire, then with a sudden change of mind, I rather set
my platter down by the gazelle before cleaning up and climbing a tree to
rather have some shoddy dinner from my remaining supplies.


At morning I found myself alone, with just my empty platter glimmering in the
rays of the rising sun. The kill of the day before disappeared too without any
trace, not even bones, only her paws marking the ground. If I wanted meat, I
had to prepare for another hunt.

Just as I got my gear together, she returned flying low, descending farther
away, but didn't pay much attention even as I was leaving. This time, after
cautiously evading a bunch of elephants marching for a drink, I managed to
shoot a hare, and could return with it by noon. She was still there, resting
sprawled out on her back, just raising her head for my arrival.

I could roast the rabbit without much trouble, then, noticing her stirring
again for the smell, I set away a portion of it which I served her on the
same platter where the gazelle was the day before. After I returned to
extinguish my fire, she followed, and with eager tongue flicks, slowly, piece
by piece, laboriously tasting, ate my offer.

Then, after again performing that curious contortion to scratch her ridge, she
set down on her chest, gesturing towards me. She waited, then again, and a
short while after, again, her head drooping until resting on the ground with a
sullen expression.


I consulted my book on Draconic for it for a long while until I managed to
translate it as "Me myself", another while until I could refine it as the more
meaningful "Me alone". It fitted her expression, but I wondered what it meant.
How she could be alone here with all the wild wyverns of the region? Was she
exiled from them? I didn't think that reasonable having her this near to a
water hole with lots of animals to prey upon, certainly a good territory. Or
was she special in some manner? Maybe... Then all of sudden it snapped in:
Maybe she was alone with the knowledge of Draconic.

Frantic I dove deep in the book to find something which could help to make
some connection, to tell her she was not alone. Soon I found out how to
gesture "Me friend", however to my dismay, the "friend" symbol wasn't
appropriate my case. Reading further I could learn that between man and
dragon, this refers to a very intimate relationship, almost like mates, and
that it was quite impolite to say it without the other party's consent. But
then what I could tell to reassure her?

The intricate web of dragon customs seeping through the apparently simple sign
language described in fragments by the book bogged me down until almost
nightfall when I found the probable solution for this hidden elaborate knot.
One could say "You friend" to offer friendship implying that he accepts the
other party treating him as such, and may be rewarded with him replying "You
friend" as well. This, however, seemed to require an already very strong
relationship. There was another statement though, translating "Me trust",
meaning trusting the other party having good intentions, his faith, an
invitation for good will.


With this knowledge, I approached her as soon as I felt appropriate, however I
couldn't get much of a response. She pulled her head back, still keeping a
body length's of distance, to my repeat, I felt her exclaiming as she gestured
with erect ridge, with a more bewildered expression than furious, but I
couldn't make it out, and only got lost in the book trying to interpret it
from memory.

This went on for a few days. I kept finding her exclaiming her loneliness, and
I even composed a response of "You not alone. Me trust", but it didn't seem to
help a lot. She however kept behaving calm, not wanting to really do anything
about me expect not letting me back to the road as I found out once I tried.
She discovered my attempt, and gently but firmly, commanded me back under the
acacias. Curiously I found her understanding my relation with my equipment: if
I had my things on the tree, she didn't care that much about my going around.

Even though I felt somewhat like a prisoner in a hardly convincing situation,
her state made me curious, and while I definitely still didn't arrive to Drino
while I already could have, after all, at least my warden was a dragon. Maybe
if I turned back, I would already lie somewhere down in Ugaros with spilled
guts if that war really started, dead for a dubious cause. I wasn't really
sure about my current situation either, but with that other prospect I didn't
mind that much. It even started to worry me how she kept scraping at her
ridge, bringing back memories of Messenger, the bizarre man of my childhood
telling me they can't really access there.

She however didn't let me any near her like him, to ease her with some good
massaging, still insisting to keep a body's length between us while sadly
exclaiming how lonely she was.


Maybe the fourth day, after she returned from a hunt gorging herself heavy,
making it almost comedic how she expressed her solitude again with her
sorrowful gestures, some terrible rush of itching engulfed her, forcing to
contort herself, trying to ease it by scraping at her ridge with a leg for a
while until exhausted she fell down, muscles still twitching visibly under
the skin of the neck as she tried to align her head in agony to get it more
bearable.

I advanced slow, hoping I could help her, gesturing "You not alone. Me trust".
She just kept looking at me meekly, occasionally jolting, more from the
itching than by reluctance until I got to crouch down before her muzzle. I
expressed "Me trust" again before cautiously reaching out with my right hand,
to gently set my palm on the upper jaw, below the nostril, to stroke the line
of her mouth. It was an insane idea, to put my hand voluntarily almost in her
most potent weapon hoping she would understand the degree of my trust, but I
had faith in her strange intentions, which was proven right.

Se laid still apart from the occasional twitch from then as I cautiously
continued crouched, next to her head, out of her field of vision, never
removing my palm from her skin until I could turn to tuck my fingers under the
ornaments of the head.


I almost yelled out in horror. Filth was a serious understatement to describe
that ugly grime my fingers got entangled in there! I believed the dragons were
all clean and tidy by Messenger's example, only then realizing in astonishment
that he was likely kept that way by attentive laborious care in Drino! I
almost forgot about her very real presence looking in disgust at the various
pieces of discernible moult embedded in the gunk stuck on my hands!

However, I hadn't been working in the stables of Arne to get so easily scared
by a little of dirt. After my first abashment I realized that the grime was
most likely simply damp silt, strange as it was, the probable explanation
being her taking a bath in the water hole. So I continued, gently massaging
her as one by one I spooned out the oozy residue from under the spikes, which,
still twitching occasionally, she apparently appreciated.

Then as I reached nearer the shoulder, suddenly she jolted, turning her head
sideways to get a frowned look on me with an eye. I kept stroking her neck to
comfort her, feeling occasional trembles of the tense muscles until, after
shifting her body slightly by the arms, she came to rest again. I returned to
the ridge with caution, pulling off the fragments of grass and worn scales
entangled in wet dirt with very gentle movements to uncover a hideous
fist-sized swollen gash deep under a spike.


This was quite unsettling. I cleaned up the rest the best I could then,
however truly that very ill located injury was stirring her. I tried to keep
comforting her until she calmed down with a yielding expression, occasional
twitches still visible under her skin.

I had suitable medical equipment in my package, most importantly alcohol for
cleaning and disinfecting wounds proper, but first I would have had to
reassure the still reluctant wyvern that I was doing her good. I was baffled
by this task, unsure whether I should approach it like handling an animal
spelling out disaster or like an intelligent reasonable being.

My hopes went in the linguistic book once again, which, probably thanks to its
age, just a decade older than the last war, turned out to have a good section
on military related concepts including the medical treatment of wounded
dragons. I learned how to form a simple question rolling back to the grammars,
to understand the example asking the dragon where he was hurt, translating as
"Do you ache?", to which normally he would reply like "Me ache right shin" or
point at the problematic area. I couldn't entirely understand the grammar of
questioning, describing some "query symbol" which was usually conveniently
translated to "do" to form a more natural result.

Then there was the distinction between the verbs "pain" and "maul", the latter
referring to the action of causing physical pain to someone, with a notion
that the gesture translating as "hurt" is used for mental pain. The verb
"pain" was however again used for causing physical pain, but with the
intention of helping. By example a medic would prepare the dragon telling "Me
pain you" before attending a wound, and he would also indicate the expected
severity of the pain by superimposing an appropriate adjective. The book
emphasized that as always, dragons must be handled with utmost honesty, so
that a severe pain must be communicated as severe even if in the end it
demands calling for another dragon to help holding the patient down.


The evening, confident in my ability to communicate, I prepared for attempting
to remedy her situation, hoping she would tolerate. I built a fire to boil
water, also disinfecting a ragged piece of cloth to have something to clean
the wound before applying alcohol. Then I approached her which she accepted
since the first occasion the day before.

"Do you itch?" I asked. She sat to contort herself, reaching with her left leg
to her ridge, the spot where the gash laid under the spike, without scratching
at it, then returned. "Me help. Follow". A little startled, but she followed
me to my fire where the water put aside was already cooling off by the bottle
of alcohol.

For a few moments she attentively observed those few utilities I had, then
before I could signal, she asked with a slightly raised ridge "Do you pain
me?". I looked at her bewildered, something I didn't expect, and I neither had
any idea what she exactly meant and how I should respond properly. Finally,
mustering some confidence I gestured "Me pain you. Me trust".

I was amazed to see her cooperation as she laid down promptly to her chest,
head resting on the ground ahead of me, letting me slip out of her vision,
then raising the spikes in apparent anticipation. I prepared, and saw her
muscles twitching even before I approached, but she kept still as I progressed
through cleaning the wound, jolting occasionally, but restraining herself with
an admirable determination, making me feel rather performing the duty of a
doctor than a veterinary.

When finished, I continued with the warm water to thoroughly clean her
ridge which I saw her finally enjoying much, the first time I felt I made a
connection.


Next evening when I again prepared for attending her, she came just when the
water was put aside for cooling, gesturing "You pain me" before dropping down
to her chest, offering herself for my medical attention. This puzzled me even
more, how she seemingly understood the course of her care at least from her
point, that her injury needs attention until healing up well.

Sometimes she would attempt to communicate with me, but I could barely make
her gestures out with my miserable progress with the language, and maybe even
for the age of my book. It saddened me to see her occasionally still
exclaiming how lonely she was which I felt I was coming to understand.

Maybe a week later when her wound's swell abated to leave a properly healing
scar, she came as usual, but gestured something different, ending with "Me
trust". It startled me, leaving me unsure whether I understood well, neither
certain on whether I could ask or even if it was appropriate, but still, I
finally did, composing the sequence "Do you trust?". She replied with slightly
raised ridge, "Me trust".

I felt a border crumbling apart that day. More than a month before, I set out
to see the world, to reach Drino to meet dragons. As I marched forth, without
my knowledge maybe everything collapsed behind, who knows who was at war with
whom by now. I got stranded in the Seehal, feeling my death upon myself, then
of all things, I gain her trust. After all, I felt I still reached somewhere,
here, with a dragon. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to continue into Drino at
all anymore.




The outcast
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Weeks passed as we became familiar with each other. She kept preferring to
have her ridge tended with warm water in the evening even after her healing,
which I continued as I usually preferred to have a fire anyway to make myself
a dinner. She demanded me to stay with her for longer even when I wasn't
caressing her until one day I fell asleep by her side, waking up abashed in
the dark night realizing I was on the ground with the sleeping wyvern. I made
an attempt to stalk away to a tree, however briefly looking back I met her
gaze, the sparkling gems of her eyes in the blackness, calling me. From then
I spent the nights with her rather than alone uncomfortably lodged between
branches.

She carried some unworldly silence with her as seemingly most large animals
avoided her. I felt safe even out in this wilderness by her side, and she also
showed care towards me, never leaving me alone asleep on the ground. It was
strange how sometimes she didn't even attempt to use language to express
herself, rather coming to nudge me if she wanted something, frequently just my
touch, to groom her.


Having plenty of time I kept studying Draconic, straining myself to understand
both the book and her gestures when she tried. It came slow, despite the
apparent crudeness, the structure was odd, with a logic unfamiliar to me. I
wondered how it came to be, why it wasn't crafted to something easier to
grasp, ending with recalling how Dave told that the dragons formed their side.
Maybe their mind worked differently to ours.

After a while I even figured out the chapter on the connection between the
human and the dragon side of the language, how our hand gestures corresponded
to their motions. It was about then where I realized that she probably
understands my deficiency, noticing how she occasionally even attempted to
name me things hoping I would pick them up.

She appreciated every new idiom I used or understood with glee, sometimes
repeating them several times enjoying how I kept reacting proper the same way.
Repetitions were common in their talk, however these were more than that, a
lot more! She taught me to speak!


As our communication improved, certain things however started to bother me.
Why she attacked me the first place? Couldn't I ask her to come in Drino with
me? Was she even really alone here with her capability to speak Draconic? At
occasions it also bugged me whether there were people traversing the road,
whether she still attacked, although I couldn't see any mark of stingers on
her apart from a few well-healing old ones and those I caused.

One day I decided to venture east, back to the trail, to check for any sign of
people traversing it. I set out for it with just my hunting equipment partly
to avoid stirring her, but also for it was much easier to walk without
everything if I wanted to return anyway. I passed the termite tower, marching
maybe about half the distance when suddenly she appeared to swoop down right
before me! "Do you trust?", she asked, anger mixed with sorrow, "Me trust", I
responded. She passed me with a "Follow" gesture, and I had to return with her
to the acacias.

She didn't leave our camp the entire remaining day sitting there with a sullen
expression, not even letting me near. Her sadness bogged my mood down, even
worse as the evening came, she still avoiding me, forcing me to sulk away, up
a tree for a long uneasy night with little sleep. I couldn't know she would
feel so much betrayed by my action.


Next morning I sunk deep in linguistic, trying to figure out whether I could
apologize to her, but there was nothing even remotely fitting for this
purpose. Absolutely nothing as I realized in bewilderment. Not like it wasn't
impossible to make myself look pitiful, but whatever I remembered fitting by
our human logic didn't seem to work in Draconic. Treat dragons with utmost
honesty, the book kept pressing.

So did I, starting a conversation with her.

\- Me want see people's trail past.

\- Why you want see people's trail past? Do you not trust?

\- Me want meet people. Me trust.

\- Me trust. Do you not happy, me trust?

\- Me happy, you trust! Me sad, you want maul people past.

\- Me want maul people past. Me not want maul people.

\- Why you not want maul people?

\- You trust. Me trust.

Her confession touched me even through the crude language degraded by my
inferior skill. She accepted me again for which I felt very relieved, although
she left me puzzled still with everything unanswered. I resolved to keep on
studying the language, to be honest with her, to ask if I wanted to go away
from my usual hunting courses hoping I could eventually discover her deeper.


Two days later it popped in my mind that maybe I could ask her to bring back
the arrows I shot at her about a month before by then, thinking they could
have been collected if anyone traveled the road.

\- You know location, me maul you past?

\- Me know location, you maul me past.

\- Do you bring arrows from location then?

\- Me bring arrows from location then.

It felt strange how simply she accepted my request, and indeed, she returned
with three stingers in her mouth from her flight next day. Those were all my
arrows bought in Tikira, every one I shot at her that day, almost completely
intact save for a bite mark on the shaft of one.

This outcome was odd. I didn't expect her to find all these thin needles for
her size, they still must have been laying clear on the ground or lodged in
the foliage by the trail for an entire month. Marco in Zarvo told there were
people traveling the road, at least one stepping on or popping out every week,
someone should have noticed these useful items left behind. Did the conflict
really turn this bad since I was away?


Laying by her side in the darkness my mind kept drifting down a dismal slow
river, the arrows, and all what their return could mean. Was there a war
somewhere out there? Did the King really march his army down the Mera to
attack Ugaros? How the relations went with the Antaran Lords? What was about
Tikira, Mother? Was she well? By the rumors I knew Ugaros being a country
where wyverns were still treated as guardians, no aerial corps, no riding,
would they even stand a chance against the King's forces? Why it started, why
we couldn't live in peace? If I were to return, what would I find?

I was unsure whether I even wanted to return. I felt the calmness, the slow,
deep breaths of her, the peaceful darkness of the night shrouding my vision,
my senses dwindling, yet her presence providing me safety.


Time lost its meaning living out here, weeks passed by the same routine in a
sort of everlasting serenity, our only real duty being hunting or for me,
gathering fruits occasionally. We sometimes spent entire days together, she
developing a taste for apparent laziness, appreciating grooming in delight,
but even just sprawling out on her back calling me to lay on her chest. I used
the time to learn Draconic, to understand the little nuances, how they handled
adjectives to express emotion, her logic.

Despite our mutual effort, I felt her having some grief, while not expressing
herself being alone anymore, her sullen mood occasionally returning. I tried
to talk with her about it, but it kept sinking in a convoluted mess of symbols
which I couldn't decipher.

She lived in Drino in the past, and as I could put together the fragments of
her expressions, she was exiled for being a man-eater. It shocked me how it
could have happened. When I asked her "Why you eat person past?" she denied,
telling she killed them. Yet then she talked about eating with some gestures I
didn't understand, eating people who trusted her, eating her friend. These
stressed her asking me scared "Do you trust?", sometimes repeatedly, only
calming as I reassured her, "Me trust", stroking her jaws, showing I didn't
afraid of her, that I didn't think her being a monster.


These were very unsettling, to learn she might have at least killed people who
trusted her, people probably like me, but she sunk so deep telling those I
could only feel sorrow. Confusion strangled me. Part of me wanted to stay away
from her, yet other part wanted to understand, to share her burden. Sometimes
I drifted away stroking and comforting her, to imagine myself being eaten, a
limp body not even belonging me anymore, seeing her wandering in a sullen
solitude, exclaiming and exclaiming "Me alone" again and again for no one to
see in her eternal vast desolation.

One night I suddenly woke up almost squalling in horror as something pressed
hard on my back to realize I was still there by her side. She moved in her
sleep, I felt the two claws of her wing-paw pressing in my shoulders firm, my
body wrapped in the folds of the membrane, a bony finger against my side. Her
grip almost crushed me! I felt, and as the moon reflected her scales, I could
see the muscles twitching up her neck, a nightmare, maybe. But there was no
way for me to escape, fearing she might squash me as I felt her grasp tensing,
the claws sinking in my shoulders! Laboriously I wriggled out my arms, and
started stroking her chest, the neck as far as I could reach to soothe her,
afraid of that by doing anything else attempting to wake her might leave me
crushed dead. Slowly she went limp, but still trembling occasionally which
continued until morning.

To my astonishment she didn't let me go even then. Waking up she wrapped her
other wing around me, coiling up, sinking me in the warmth of her body,
hopelessly out of her field of vision. I had to go, I terribly had to until my
bladder miserably gave up to produce an another source of unpleasant soggy
warmth by my crotch. I tried to push and wriggle myself out, but it was such
an unusual situation that I was simply afraid of stirring her. She didn't
release me. She heaved herself to her feet holding me firm against her breast
by a wing and started limping around, then down all the long way to the water
hole for a drink and back.

Finally, she rolled on her back, and while she rested both of her wing-paws on
me, her grip loosened and I could carefully slip out, stroking her to calm her
down. I left her despite how she looked after me to get some water myself and
to clean the mess somewhat up. For the entire day she kept having a sullen
expression, nudging me almost apologetically without a word, so much I simply
couldn't do anything but forgive.


Her state however had some severe impact on mine. I had to realize that maybe
I couldn't continue to Drino even later if she was really exiled from there,
although I wasn't even sure what the word meant. The book described it with an
example of being chased off of another wyvern's territory, without any hint
of permanence or what it could imply in her case. Neither I knew the Drino
law, what they would do with dragons like her, who might have even fled from
jurisdiction. Would I just bring her back to face a sentence of death?

I thought I could probably still return home with her, as the rumors went, it
wasn't hard to convince the authorities of the ownership of an adult wyvern,
especially if the owner joined the aerial forces or any other service in
demand. Of course there was Ugaros as well, further west in the Seehal.
Neither possibility comforted me. Bring her to her death, join a despicable
war serving our King's Army, or serve the enemy? I couldn't spend my life out
in the wilderness, despite how occasionally I so much wished to stay, to just
be with her enjoying this strange relationship of ours, not caring about the
entire foul world.




Outbreak to the sky
------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The mystery man. Weeks of talking I started to recognize names, gestures
unknown to me which by their context could only imply such, some she even
explained. There was one along those which was shrouded by the most convoluted
combinations, expressions of confusion, which I so referred as such, feeling
him being the central point of her story.

I realized she was scared. After a few talk sessions, even after reassuring
each other of our trust, in the evening she hugged me, almost like clinging on
me for comfort, for safety, which was bewilderingly odd by how her mere
presence protected me from the perils of the wilderness. She wasn't shy. She
wasn't a coward. If she had to, she even chased off elephants, maybe five
times her weight each or more, by repeatedly snapping out her wings, towering
on her hind legs hissing down, even leaping in the air to rake their backs!
They could trample her fragile wings, maybe even crush her body. Her memories
however filled her with dreadful confusion hurting her spirit.


It took me a while to understand that she had some concept on lying, even
gestures. The book had absolutely nothing on these, she had to laboriously
explain everything. Dragons apparently despised lies and dishonesty deeply.
"Dragons talk help. Dragon talk trust. Dragon talk friend", she kept on
insisting in agitated confusion along these sessions.

There were a group of people in her stories, at least some individuals who she
killed and probably ate. She referred to them as "bad people" at one time,
another time, "good people", which took me a while to figure out, to
understand how the language could express conveying sentences told in the past
by someone else, which again wasn't described in my linguistic book. I got
that the "mystery man" told her those people being bad.

\- Why you trust mystery man past?

\- My friend tell past, me trust mystery man.

\- Why he tell past?

\- He tell past, he friend mystery man. He tell past then, mystery man
nonexistent.

\- Do you meet mystery man past?

\- Me meet mystery man past. Me lie. Mystery man nonexistent. Me lie. Me lie.
Do you trust? Me lie.

She sunk deep, again, every time. I didn't initiate all of these
conversations. She brought those painful memories of her up, seemingly wanting
to seek comfort in me, my understanding, but I couldn't decipher what was
behind. I could only stroke her muzzle to reassure her, unable to really help.


It was something reaching very deep, seemingly some intricate method of horrid
mass murder executed by her, but I couldn't be sure. Once she told it one way,
then she denied those happening. She not only killed those people who she even
told she trusted, but also his friend. She denied eating them, but then
condemned herself for lying. When I asked, she was clear on not killing,
neither eating the mystery man, but I wasn't sure whether for that he didn't
even exist. All the while she kept expressing how dragons use speech for their
mutual benefit, almost condemning herself for lying, sinking deep in her
misery.

There was nothing I could do except watching her, trying to untangle the mess,
hoping I could at least get her out of it. She cared for me, sometimes to the
degree of annoyance, and I got very attached to her, stopping me even caring
for what the bloody hell she did those people. I just wanted to end it for her
benefit. She needed support, serious mental help.

It was a small victory when I realized I can isolate two different periods of
that convoluted past, and could steer her that way. It felt like she was put
to a trial after her murders. Before that, the mystery man existed and she
only killed those people, after, the man was gone, and she also ate them. She
mauled his friend dead then. She seemed to believe the verdict as truth, but
doubts let me feel that she wasn't confident in that. It bothered me to sway
in the direction of accepting that maybe the judgment was bogus, but her
innocence and the directness of her explanations tempted me hard.


Then, one day, all of sudden, it dawned on me that she referred most of the
people she killed as ones who she trusted! If she trusted them, she had to
know them personally, making me hope there was something, some clue in those
connections which could answer why these happened!

I was careful to not stir her up, just when she wished to talk. One by one I
asked about those, but to my dismay it turned out she got to know them by her
friend rather recently to the murders, but all before the mystery man came in
play. Then the fourth appeared to be someone who she knew since longer.

\- Do you trust fourth man past?

\- Me trust fourth man past. He trust lots-of dragons past. Some dragons
friend him past.

\- Why you kill him past?

\- Mystery man tell past, he bad, he lie dragons past.

\- Why you trust him? Why you not trust fourth man?

\- My friend tell past, me trust mystery man. He tell past, Drino friend
mystery man.

I cut her off as hastily as I could without stirring her, almost fainting for
the realization! "Drino friend mystery man", meaning likely that the Antaran
lords themselves had this man! I felt my heartbeat, shivering, so even there,
they even dared to use dragons for such foul schemes! Such an innocent dragon
like her who doesn't even understand well enough the concept of lies, how we
keep tricking each other day to day with our language!


Calm down, I urged myself. While it was an explanation, I felt I couldn't
accept it right away without more proof. So I kept talking with her on the
subsequent days as she wished, exploring further the relation between that
man and her friend. I couldn't make it out clear, but it felt like he was
persuaded in this, to pass her over to that man's commands. I even made out
that her friend didn't even knew what she was doing under his supervision.
Then if the situation wasn't enough, they confused her in such a manner so
she mauled his friend dead in a severe argument, cleaning up the last
evidence which could unravel the nature of her murders.

I was furious. So such things were going on there! Land of wonders? All the
same! Months ago Mark, the Protector with whom I traveled to Kort dropped a
few words on the Antaran lords, that the dragons wouldn't likely want to go
away from their land to wage a war against some other country or probably even
our King. It didn't exactly connect, but maybe there were people siding with
the dragons in this. Someone who knew lots of them might preferred their way.
Maybe then the Lords themselves wanted to launch a war? Dave neither seemed
someone who would have liked that. Maybe she killed him, too?


It didn't really matter then. The world was bad enough as it seemingly was. I
wanted to help her, so I accepted this explanation to be able to untangle her
past, just hers, without caring about whatever terrible things happened there.
For days when we talked, I tried to straighten the threads the best I
understood, honest and direct, telling her those she killed were the good
people, but the same time insisting that the mystery man existed. She was
relieved by these, relieved to have an explanation even though she did things
which she shouldn't have done.

The case of her friend was the worst which I tried to avoid, suggesting that
he was also tricked. If what I made out was right, it could have happened, he
could have been a victim probably blackmailed into the act. She even seemed to
accept how other dragons pounced on her for her actions, exiling her from
Drino, although the details for me were uncertain. She might have been saved
by them if by law she was sentenced to death.

Was I right to absolve her? Did I even absolve her? She seemed to be
absolutely conscious of what she had done, expressing with deep sorrow that
she shouldn't have killed them. Was I guilty for easing the life of a
murderer? Could she even be judged like a human being? It was an insane
situation. Likely someone planned out the murder, to be executed by her, and
she did all the killing. Was she aware of what she was doing? She was. She
never denied she killed those men only that she ate them. She was clearly not
an animal, not even a wild wyvern.

I only saw a wrecked, confused, innocent being in her who was used without
remorse to accomplish such a horrible deed ruining her life.


Then the disconcerted soul, her muzzle hanging low before my face, silently
gestured "You friend", the "You" almost licking my nose as it was expressed
by a long tongue flick. I just stared astounded for a moment until I realized
what it meant, to release an elated reply "You friend!" before almost falling
to hug her! We were bonded!

The thumps of her heart as I laid by her side in the night, wrapped in her
wings got a different meaning, I felt we were one, the deep breaths, the
twitches could be mine. I was hers, just as hers as she was mine, as she
gently cuddled me to her warm scaly body. I was home.


Next morning after our routines, a long grooming as she let the rising sun
heat her spread out magnificence, she got truly eager to move, marching up and
down in front of me, shaking and spreading her wings, showing their entire
splendor! Just like Xipa did for Messenger, calling him for flight!

She crouched down in her walk, almost nudging me with her shoulder, arching
her head over me with a raised ridge of glee. With some worry, I clambered up,
feeling her nudging me to help, then by my memories of the saddle, laid flat,
gripping on the powerful deltoids. She turned back, and with the tip of her
tongue, licked my face before straightening for the run.

I felt shivers running down myself, or maybe it was her, twitching her muscles
in preparation for the launch. Then, suddenly my arms tensed taut as her
powerful legs kicked forth, almost pressing me to her back before falling,
meeting her spine with a thud as she jumped from a second stride, then
snapping the huge wings open far forth, to extort a mighty flap down and
behind to leave the ground!

My chest was a bit sore from the hit, but who cared as she was pushing higher,
her entire body in motion, my palms feeling the massaging of the muscles as
they pulled forth and forth again the arms, to work us even higher! Then it
went all silent, the wings spread taut for serene soaring, the stark movements
abating to nuances, tiny jolts and twitches under the skin as she effortlessly
floated on the blue ocean of the endless sky.

I pulled a bit forth to look down by her shoulder, to see the scary amazing
sight of the savanna deep below! If I weren't with her, I would have been
terrified, but her presence, her confidence calmed me, it was her world to
which she invited me. She was home, the magnificent queen of the heights,
where nobody reached her!


People, countries, armies marching into wars, gruesome killing, foul politics
and scheming all left behind, those were the ground, far, far away below! What
were borders in the sky? She could soar over them with an effortless grace,
forward and forth, leaving the entire rotten world to drown in itself!

The Trial of Dragon... We did it! We could fly and fly, forever and beyond,
everywhere and anywhere until the wars end, the people at last come to peace,
together, understanding. We were free!