Heir of the Dragon

Trust Well (Part 2)

The way back over the mountains seemed such a terrible lot shorter than it had been the first time I'd flown it. If I were wholly myself, I would probably have drunken in the sight of the newly snow capped peaks, and the crisp air I flew upon, but I could hardly even fly straight.

Sure, I was determined to reach Clauden. I had a brighter, clearer sense of my duty now that I knew so much more intimately what was at stake if I failed. I wanted nothing more than to be worthy of the title Dragon Heir. But all I could think of was him. This was the deafening silence that claims one who has just begun to hear her favorite melody only to have it cut off much too soon. This was the sickness that claims the suddenly abstinent drunkard.  This was the cold darkness of the first night after the brilliance of the first day.

I understood that he needed to do this as much as I needed to reach Clauden; as much as I needed to join the good people who were gathering in the Gennedan woods and the dragon fortress, but it didn't make it easy to leave the new love we'd just discovered. How could I be sure I would ever see him again? How could I be sure I hadn't kissed him goodbye ... forever?

I steeled myself against the rush of sadness that my thoughts elicited. I trusted him. I had to.

Below me, I recognized the quick falling away of the land, and knew the valley the moment I saw it, even at a distance. Any relief I felt at seeing Clauden was quelled by something eery growing in the edges of my mind. It grew stronger as I neared the wall-less city, and it took me a moment to draw myself out of my thoughts enough to acknowledge the instinctual warning. I felt suddenly sick at how similar -- and yet how terribly different it was from Shadaii's.

My heart began to beat faster.

Ghere. A number of them, if my senses were serving me well. Not a host, quite, but more a small group of them. The smell of their blood and the ringing of the warning in my head gave me an almost precise location. There was a certain patch of trees about a league from Clauden's outermost homes that reeked of their presence.

Much too late, I realized I hadn't considered a plan for how to find Elogrin or the Elves. In fact, I had no plan at all. For a moment I thought I might land now to avoid being seen by the ghere scouts, but quickly realized that it was probably too late. I was already nearly on top of them. Besides that, it would take infinitely longer to walk the league to the city than it would to fly.

'To hell with it,' I growled to myself. The lurking ghere were not a good sign, and I felt an urgency I hadn't felt before. More than anything, though, I didn't much care anymore what happened. I was a dragon. If the giants wished to kill me, I was ready for them to try. If the ghere I felt were the beginning of an advancing army, Let them come.

To hell with them, and to hell with subtlety.

I was racing over the city now, flying low and fast, following first the path and then the road that lead to the center of it all. It was longer than I expected before my shadow fell over anything but quiet rural landscape. The first shocked upturned look I received came from a young looking giant with long braided hair and darker skin than even Elogrin's. He was carrying a huge bundle of hay under his arm, probably for the cows I had noticed scattered in pastures here and there. After that, there were more and more cries of surprise and wide eyed, dumbfounded stares. I didn't bother to look back, but I heard the commotion that broke out in my wake. There wasn't much yelling, only running about and slamming doors. They seemed to be a quiet people, which I felt I might appreciate if all turned out in my favour.