Dragon Tears (2 page)

∞

Larkin looked around the cavern walls and would have smiled, but since dragons don’t have lips, it was impossible. Instead, his eyes whirled like a kaleidoscope showing his pleasure and contentment. Emeralds, diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones glittered like pieces of rainbows on the walls. Since he was a green dragon, emeralds were not only his favorite, but also his responsibility, as he was tasked with mining them. All dragons mined their matching jewels, and all dragons lined their dens with stones that matched their color. All dragons except Larkin, that is. The stones were given out as rewards, and so far, the little green dragon hadn’t done anything to deserve one. His cave was cold and dark, unlike the caves of the older dragons whose walls were so lined with sparkling gems that they shone like a king’s crown.

“If only I could do something right, maybe I would earn some stones for my walls,” he muttered, as he stretched out his front leg and raked his claws against the cavern wall. Rocks, dirt, and jewels tumbled to his feet and with the daintiness of a picky eater, he used his snout to separate out the emeralds. He repeated the process until he had a large pile of the stones at his feet. Sitting back on his haunches, he surveyed his work. Satisfied with the results, he turned and headed farther into the cavern’s darkness.

The walls narrowed in on him. If he’d been any larger, he wouldn’t have been able to pass through the opening. He reached a point where the walls almost seemed to touch, his scales scraping against the sides.

His head poked out of the passage first, and a glimmer of light met him. He snapped his eyes shut against its brilliance, and he stumbled out into the open air. This was his secret passageway. For once, being the smallest dragon in the brood had its advantages, for no one else was small enough to fit through the passage behind him. He lumbered out onto a ledge and stretched out his wings, letting the bright afternoon sun shine down on him. After the damp chill of the mines, it felt as if he had just curled up in front of a warm fire.

A deep sigh of contentment escaped him as he rejoiced in his freedom.

“The sun feels so good, so good, so good,” he sang to himself, forgetting his humiliation and shame and soaking in the warming, cheerful sunlight.

Larkin was free for the rest of the afternoon. No one would come looking for him until sunset, when the dragons gathered to sing in the moonlight. It was mandatory for all dragons to greet both moonrise and sunrise, their voices raised to the heavens in a song only they understood.

The noise was a mismatched cacophony of sound, and the little dragon wondered if the humans heard it. He thought a lot about humans. Too much so, said his brood mother. She believed that all humans were magic users.

“Only the White Dragon has the right to use magic,” she had said. “For humans to use it goes against all natural laws. It is evil to do so and that makes them evil as well.”

He rested his chin on his front foreleg, thinking. He wasn’t sure what magic was, or what it did. He didn’t know what she meant by the natural order of things, either. He did know that humans were the cause of most of the dragons’ problems, or so the elders said, but what those problems were he didn’t know. It seemed there was much he didn’t know, and much he wanted to learn. “By my scales,” he mumbled, “I wouldn’t even recognize a human if I saw one.”

He raised his head, his keen eyes searching the valley floor beneath him.
Time to eat soon, I’d best get to it before someone sees me.

∞

Patrik stared at the scattered kindling and frowned. His blue eyes narrowed, and he ran a hand through his light brown hair, ruffling it as if that would help him think. The task Wizard Allard had set for him was impossible. He knew that, and rather than waste the afternoon trying to do the impossible, he turned his back on it and walked out the door.

His teacher would be locked in his study until sunset, when his failing eyesight would demand that he quit for the day. Since no one, absolutely no one, was supposed to disturb him while he practiced his magic, Patrik was free to pursue his own interests. And there was only one thing that Patrik had any interest in: dragons.

The wizard’s cabin sat on the edge of the borderlands, those lands that neither human nor dragon could claim as their own. A serene valley stretched before him. To the west of the valley, the craggy mountains rose, their jagged peaks hiding the dragon caves. To the east stretched the flat, lowlands filled with human farms and towns. Patrik had no interest in the meadows behind him. He searched the west, hoping to get at least one glimpse of the dragons as they patrolled the borderlands. He’d been told that he should be afraid of the dragons, but even though they were fearsome to some, his fascination overcame his fears.

He walked down the slope toward the meadow. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d had no lunch. Reaching the river, the thought of fishing for his dinner briefly crossed his mind, but he rejected the idea almost immediately. He didn’t have a pole, and even if he caught one, he had no way to cook it, and he couldn’t bring the fish back with him. All he needed was for the wizard to find out what he had really been doing all afternoon.

Patrik’s stomach growled again, motivating him into action. He began searching the riverbank for bumbleberries and watercress. He sighed, knowing it was too early in the season for the nut trees to have ripe nuts. He’d have to appease his hunger with berries and greens, for there was no way to sneak back to the cabin for lunch. Even though the wizard’s eyesight was failing, his hearing was as keen as a cat’s. He’d hear Patrik the minute he stepped into the kitchen, and since he was not getting any dinner tonight, the boy knew he’d best do a good job of filling his stomach now while the wizard was occupied with his studies

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

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

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

But his feet didn’t move.

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

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

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

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

∞

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

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

∞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We greet thee, Guardian of the Night.”

“We welcome thee and thy light.”

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

“For evening has once again come.”

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

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

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

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

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