Dragon Wings -- Ch. 32

Chapter Thirty-two

Cial had never felt so alive!

The rocky ground sped along underneath him, covered with just enough grass to make his footfalls easy and painless. Lilac was flying among the Protectors, invisible among the small army that shadowed the plains with their outspread wings.

We did it! Cial felt like roaring in joy. The Protectors had come! The meeting had been long and tense with debate, but it seemed that the decision of the majority was the decision of all, because every single able-bodied Protector had taken flight to save his home. Their collective strength, burning above him like white-hot suns, made his head spin. They were not as numerous as the Fleet of Fighters, but their magical strength made them at least five times deadlier than an ordinary dragon, by Cial's guess.

He dug into the ground deeper, leaving the clear mountain air behind with reluctance. They had spent seven days already, as the Protectors had left the day after their debate. Cial's gut twisted as he remembered their time limit, his pace slowing. Would they be able to make it in time? Kohari had told them that they had eleven days, there and back. That wasn't long. For Cial and Lilac it had been a five-day journey. The protectors might be able to make the trip faster. There was still hope, but Cial couldn't help remembering Scarwing's angry voice…

"Torae is dead!" A voice suddenly echoed over the plains, strengthened by magic. The entire group of Protectors erupted in shocked murmurs.

What? Who's Torae? Cial looked around, for the first time paying attention to his surroundings. They sent a pang of dread through his chest. These steep hills… this was where the Fleet of Stone Lakes had been slaughtered. He suddenly remembered the dragon who had stopped himself from bleeding to death, long enough to warn Cial about his shadow. Had he been talking about the Shadow, the spirit? But how could he have known?

"The whole Fleet has been killed!" Someone else cried out. The whole mass of Protectors seemed to stop in the sky, slowly coming in for a landing.

Lilac came down next to Cial, her eyes wide. "I suppose we should have told someone about that." She whispered.

"…Yeah. The dragon who died was a Protector, wasn't he?"

"I don't see what else he could have been." Lilac shrugged, and shifted uncomfortably. "We… we should tell Zahur about how he died…"

The smell of death was on the wind, and it grew stronger as the two of them descended the hill. At least I'm not falling down it this time, Cial noted wryly, carefully picking his way down the incline.

Protectors were scattered about the dead clearing, seemingly unfazed at the sight of the rotting corpses. Cial tried to hold his breath, the disgustingly sweet odour reminded him of his time in the Forest of the Dead, so long ago. He hadn't cried for Lydia in months, but his eyes pricked with unexpected tears. So many dragons dead. Who could do such a thing, and feel no remorse?

Zahur was standing, his head low, before the body that was the least decayed, lying in a puddle of congealed blood. Cial stomach turned, remembering how the dragon had died. He wanted to turn back and forget he had seen anything, but Lilac was already beside the old Protector. "Zahur, sir." She said respectfully, then shifted her weight uncomfortable. "Cial and I have something to tell you?"

"What is it?" Zahur asked hoarsely, his red eyes barely glancing up.

"We, uh…" Cial was forced to begin as Lilac remained silent. "We saw this dragon die. We passed by here…"

"You saw Torae? Talked to him?" Zahur demanded, his head shooting back up. There was no trace of grief in his expression, but his wings were trembling.

"Y-yes." Cial stammered, put off by the elder's intensity. Zahur's magical aura flared so brightly it made him dizzy. "He recognized me. He was stopping himself from bleeding…"

"He didn't live very long," Lilac broke in hesitantly. "His last words were something like, 'beware the Dark One, for one cannot fight one's own shadow.' He was speaking to Cial."

"Of course he was." Zahur murmured to himself, then looked back up. "Was he… in a lot of pain?"

Cial wanted to lie and say no, but Zahur's serious eyes made the words die on his lips. The awkward pause was enough to tell Zahur what he needed to know, and he turned away from them, his expression unreadable.

"Rest well, my son." The old dragon whispered, then opened his jaws and let a long, keening note of dragon-song escape. His cry was taken up by all the other Protectors, rising and falling in a beautiful yet terrible symphony of grief. Cial joined in, but his grief was not for these dragons alone… it resonated with his pain for Lydia, his parents, and all those who would die because of the coming war. He wailed out his sorrows to the pale, unfeeling sky, and wished desperately that it all would disappear.