The Divine Tears: Crestfallen

VII

He rested beside a river, flowing silently through the thicket of woods while his horse drank. Branches and bushes ruffled against scales, no birds fled, for there was no danger in the divine being across the river. Daarion did not sheathe his sword, he felt a calming nature approach the running waters. Its steps rumbled the ground, though there was no hostility in them. Its scales were shining blue, slightly the same shade as the crystal river. It had a mane, shimmering white as it swayed elegantly in the silent winds. Antlers, reaching high, spreading wide. And the being's eyes, cat-like with a rim of orange surrounding it. It halted in its steps, it saw Daarion, though it had no quarrel with the young man, nor did Daarion towards the dragon, for Daarion knew the being was of divine creation, and as for the dragon, it knew who and what Daarion was. The young man bowed steadily, expressing his utmost respect. The dragon did the same, lowering its head, and proceeded to gulp down gallons of water. It left, also leaving a calmness within Daarion, as if all his worries had left him for a moment. The Valkan had read about the auras of dragons, able to lull any concerns within oneself. A needed ease to his recent tensions.

The road led Daarion to a familiar path. The road prompted his memory of a young boy with waving raven hair, battling pretend creatures with a wooden branch.

Before the Valkan lay lush fields of grain, flower bushes, and livestock with fat bellies. A house was on his right, a familiar barn beside the house, and some added huts surrounded the fields with inhabitants within them. A fiery head boy came towards him, he leaned against the fence. The Valkan remembered the little boy, always crying, yet he didn't ever bother Daarion in his youth.

'May I help you, sir,' the boy asked.

Daarion jumped from his horse. 'I'm looking for someone,' he took off his leather gloves, stretching out his sweaty palms.

'I assure you, sir. There's no one here of noteworthy,' the boy bit his fingernail.

'There is,' Daarion said, giving a faint smile, emitting a coolness not to scare off the boy.

A woman marched out of the house with a water bucket in hand. She was beautiful for her age, motherly in every way, with a warmth in her eyes to ease any child's sadness. Daarion remembered her with fewer wrinkles and less grey hair.

'Kluss?' she shouted. 'Who is that man?'

'He's looking for someone, mother,' Kluss said, looking back.

She neared; her eyes lit up. The bucket met the grass as she ran to him, teary-eyed. She embraced him. An embrace he's not felt for years, even though he had never felt a warmth from a mother before, this was the closest he felt that love.

'My sweet, Daarion,' she cried. 'My, how you've grown.'

'I've missed you terribly, Rina,' his eyes were filled with tears, smelling the scent of freshly baked bread in her hair.

'Who's this man, mother?' Kluss asked.

'This is Daarion,' she turned. 'You might remember him from nearly nine years ago, he lived in our barn for a long time.'

'Oh, yes,' Kluss nodded, he remembered the faintest of memories of Daarion.

'How've you been, my child?' she asked eagerly.

'Good, I've been good,' he said.

'And?' she gazed in his eyes. 'Have you become a dragon yet?'

'I have,' he nodded. 'I stand before you, a Valkan.'

'Oh, Daarion,' she embraced him again. 'I'm so proud of you. Come, let us feast, I'll cook a delicious stew, oh and I'll bake a sweet bread as well. You can tell us about your journey.'