The journey south was slower than Holt anticipated. He’d always supposed being on an adventure as a rider would be swift and daring; instead they plodded along one foot after another, hugging the coastline of the Sunset Sea.
Pyra and Talia took the lead, knowing the country as well as Brode. Ash’s presence seemed to irritate Pyra, so he and Holt straddled the middle ground between them and Brode, who took up the rear.
My new mentor, Holt thought. Although, so far, he’d barely spoken a word to Holt that morning and it was almost noon. They stopped only once to fill their waterskins in a cool stream. Then, on they trudged. He was painfully aware that this delay was down to himself and Ash. Until his dragon could fly, they were grounded.
Yet Holt hoped that wouldn’t be long now. Ash had grown again.
Budding stumps of bone and muscle also showed his wings developing. “Do they hurt?” Holt asked as Ash walked by his side.
“No. I can feel they are there, but I cannot move them.”
“That must feel strange. I can’t imagine having a limb I could not use.”
“One day I will and on that day I shall fly!” Ash said with glee. Then his mood seemed to darken. He bowed his head, and the beat of the bond mellowed. Before Holt could ask more, Ash came to a sudden halt.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to fly?” “More than anything. Only I… I… can’t see it.” The ball of guilt in Holt throbbed painfully.
“You don’t see flying. You experience it! Perhaps Pyra might—” But he cut himself short there. Pyra was unlikely to offer words of kindness or explanation.
“I can’t see the sky,” Ash said. “I want to be high in it, higher than clouds, but I do not know them.”
“What’s the matter here?” Brode asked. “There isn’t time to stop.”
“Ash is saddened by something,” Holt said. He felt a painful pulse through the bond, a deep longing like missing a friend who has moved far away. “He speaks of flying and the sky and clouds, only how can he know of them?”
Now Holt considered the matter, he wondered how Ash knew language at all. Could it all be down to a dragon’s magic?
“You feel the echoing verses of your lineage,” Brode told Ash.
Ash opened his mouth, showing rows of ever sharpening teeth although he currently looked confused rather than intimidating.
“What does that mean?” Holt asked.
“Dragons do not learn like humans do, starting from a point of no experience. Rather, dragons seem to re-learn all that was once learned by their ancestors. It would be akin to having many compartments of knowledge already within your mind and finding the keys to unlock them.”
“And that happens naturally?”
“For the most part it comes with age, yes,” Brode said. “Although direct experience will accelerate things. I suspect our young friend will be forced to learn quicker than a hatchling is expected to. That could be why he is growing so fast.”
Ash perked up at that.
“Hatchlings tend to grow quickly,” Holt said.
“Not like this,” Brode intoned. “Nor would they speak so soon, nor would their wings develop for a matter of months at best. I suspect the trials the pair of you have faced have triggered some deep survival instinct in Ash – to grow and gain flight to escape the danger – though I do not think it will be without cost.”
Ash yawned deeply as if to emphasize the burden of his rapid growth. “Are you sure of this, Master Brode, or are you guessing?”
“A mixture of both, boy. You’ve gone ahead and put us in unknown territory. What I am sure of is there is always a counterbalance to these
matters of magic. Keep close and look after him. He’ll need you, I think, more than a dragon should.”
Ash was now rooting around in the leaves and dirt on the trail of some interesting smell. Holt bit his lip, then lowered his voice in the hope that only Brode would hear him.
“Will he be able to fly like a normal dragon?”
Brode’s expression was unmoving. “Only time will tell.” “We’ll both have a lot to learn.”
“For once you speak with some wisdom. Now let’s get moving. We can’t afford to stop, and I can see Talia waiting for us ahead.”
Holt ran over to Ash’s side to bring him along. The dragon was standing over a dark rabbit hole, his legs braced and his neck as stiff as a board.
“It’s down there,” Ash said intensely, as though he’d tracked down a life-long nemesis.
Holt knelt beside him, imagining the rabbit within shaking from fear. “I don’t think it will come up while you’re standing here.”
“Hungry,” Ash said predictably.
At least Holt had some explanation for Ash’s insatiable stomach now. “We’ll get some food out of the packs for you, but we have to keep
moving.”
With an evident effort, Ash tore himself away from the rabbit hole and walked close beside Holt as they caught up with the others. He was much quieter than before, and Holt had an inkling as to what was wrong.
“You heard everything Brode said back there, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Ash said flatly.
Holt couldn’t help but be impressed at the dragon’s hearing. “I’m sorry”
“Why? It is not for you to know. The elder one should have told you and not held back.”
“Who? Brode? I don’t think he understands this either.”
“But an elder should know.”
“This is a new situation for him,” Holt said. “It would be like a rider asking my father to prepare a meal he’s never cooked before and without a recipe. He’ll do it, pulling pieces of knowledge and inspiration from elsewhere to do so, and he knows enough that it should be fine. But there’s no guarantee the first time around.”
“Father…” Ash rolled the word around, as though testing it. “You speak of this thing often, but I do not know it.”
Holt was struck again by how wildly different dragons were. Scales, magic, wings and all that aside, of course. Yet not having a set family, not having a mother and a father, the way humans did, was difficult to comprehend. Just as Ash could not visualize his echoing memories, Holt found he was blind when trying to grasp at what being a dragon was like. He tried to think of a way Ash might understand it.
“My father is like… he’s like an elder – my elder, I suppose.”
“So, he is ancient with a pure core, hard scales and directs your flight’s song?”
“Uh, no,” Holt said. This wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t fail to notice that even Ash was aware of this ‘core’. He made a note to pester Brode about it later. “For humans, my father is my one elder. Only mine. He is father to no one else, unless I had a brother or sister.”
“You are from his egg?”
Holt sighed. This wasn’t getting anywhere.
“Words can be crude,” Brode called from behind. He had sharp ears as well.
“What do you mean?” Holt asked.
“Sometimes more is said in a single look or movement. Sometimes more is said by silence…” Brode cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that you have a bond with this dragon. It runs deeper than mere words. Try communicating to Ash through it. Make him feel it and he’ll understand.”
Holt drew in a deep breath. He’d rarely actively sought the bond before and had sent vague sensations such as comfort over it, but it had been instinctual, and not really on purpose.
He tried to focus while walking and found he couldn’t concentrate hard enough. So, he stopped. He shut his eyes and turned all his being towards the beating bond below his sternum; his second heartbeat as he’d come to think of it. Now he focused on it solely, all other sound seemed to fade as though the world was now far away and only he and Ash remained.
Encouragement pulsed over the bond. Ash’s reassurance strengthened Holt’s will. Yet now he came to do it, Holt wasn’t sure what he should send.
How did you convey what a parent was without words?
Holt searched for memories, delving deep into his past to when he was barely knee high and learning his first words. He saw his father coming home at the end of the day and ran gleefully into his arms, happy to the point of childish giggling. These feelings passed over the bond.
He sat high upon his father’s shoulders as they strolled through the markets and tried his first piece of strong cheese; his father had told him all about its making. Years later, he was a little older now, and was chopping his first onion. The knife slipped, cut his finger. He hadn’t wanted to continue but his father handed the knife back and told him to try again; to not give up.
He lay sweating in bed with a terrible fever and a racing heart. His father spooned warm broth into his mouth, placed a cold cloth on his head and told him gently again and again that it would be okay.
Unbidden, a darker memory came. The day his mother died. He’d pressed his face into his father’s chest just to stem the sound of his own grief. He remembered the grip of that embrace; how he didn’t want to let go
—
“Stop,” Ash said. “That sadness is great.”
Holt opened his eyes and reality came back in a rush.
He shook his head. “Sorry, Ash. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I am sorry, Holt. Sorry that you have felt these things. But I think I understand what you mean by father now. You find all things in him, joy and love and learning. And I know now why you seek him.”
“I have to find him.”
“I shall help you do this. I would not want to be apart from you either. Those feelings you share are things you mean to me too, though not quite in the same way. I am not certain.”
“I reckon we’re friends.”
“Friends…” Ash said slowly, and Holt wondered if this concept was alien to him as well. Then the dragon bounced in approval. “Friends. Yes. Closer than even flight siblings.” He turned and nipped at Holt’s forearm.
“Ouch,” Holt said whipping his arm away. “Maybe refrain from the biting? I appreciate the sentiment but I’m not a dragon with scales.”
“A squishy friend,” Ash said, nudging Holt instead. Holt gave him a playful shove in return. He swore he heard Brode chuckle from behind, but when Holt turned the old rider was just as grim faced as usual.
“Seems to have worked,” Brode said. “You’re a quick learner, pot boy. I’ll give you that. Eventually you may speak with Ash using words across your bond and keep your conversations more private if you wish. But that will do for now.”
“Wh – Why?” Holt yawned. A sudden tiredness had taken hold of him and he rubbed fiercely at his eyes.
Brode was by his side then, offering him a sip of water which he gladly took.
“Because these matters of magic always take their toll,” Brode said. “Especially when you’re not used to it.”
Holt nodded, not wishing to push himself any further, for the moment at any rate.
“Let’s pick up our pace now,” Brode said. “The lack of signs of the scourge passing across the land disturb me. I fear whatever or whoever is in control of this swarm has a keener mind and may already have reached Fort Kennet ahead of us.”
