Winark

Sun-Cycle of the Arrival

From my mountaintop, I watched as the Fire Dragons descended their peak. I watched the beasts clearing the path. Seemia approached and told me what the plan was. Adner had not spoken to me since the river and the mountaintop. As I flew away, I knew I had crossed a line, and my mate told me as much when I explained to her what I said. She was the one who talked me into agreeing to help the Fire Dragons onto the vessels. We would not turn our backs on the clan now, Narown told me. She had been right, but I had already done the damage.

I disapproved of the foul tʃus and refused to move them. Two-legged beast equipment had nothing to do with us. We had no business using it, but I did not have any other ideas. They were right; carrying a Fire Dragon differed from a Water Dragon. Their scales were not proper for holding onto, and their horns would have been an obstacle during flight.

“Let us go get the Water Dragons. They need to be through the doorway before the tʃus,” I told my kin as sun-peek chased the dark-cycle from the sky.

Twenty of the strongest flyers took to the sky and headed to the debris lake, which held the Water Dragons. The flight was brief, and the Water Dragons were waiting. Water Mother bid her daughter goodbye for the last time and allowed us to take her. She was one of two females to save the Water Dragon kind. If she had not, we would have forced her to leave.

I nodded to the little one, who had convinced her to go.

We laid them at the doorway, and one of my Winged Dragons flew through the doorway to make sure nothing had changed.

“It looks fine,” he said when he got back.

“Alright, I want four of you over there in case the water turns out bad. I want you to retrieve him as quick as possible at any sign of trouble and bring him back here,” I instructed them.

They decided a male should go first. They all were beyond precious, but if one must be sacrificed, better it be a male. The Water Dragons had decided among themselves who was first. They decided on the oldest of them. I hoped for no predators. The ones I sent could help if they were on the surface, but if a predator dragged them below, nothing could be done.

The four Winged Dragons went through the doorway. Then bit by bit the Water Dragon made his way to the doorway. I was uncertain how it worked with him moving through the doorway. The information I received was that the distance between the doorway and the water was several sapling-lengths.

I assumed his slowness came from the fact that Water Dragons do not move well on land, but the unknown slowed him as well. When he got to the doorway, he glanced back at the others.

“See you shortly.” The whisker-like tentacles they bear on their muzzles are the same color as the rest of them, but at his age, they fade to white.

He turned back to the doorway and started pushing his large body inch by inch through the clear doorway, which had grown to the size of the surrounding trees. At one point, his body stopped moving, and I feared things on the other side had gone wrong. I approached to attempt to slip through the doorway when what was left of him concluded the journey with sudden speed.

It seemed a lengthy number of beats before anyone arrived to inform us that everything was well.

“Zaelner is fine,” Bortear said when he came back. “He hesitated before going in. He said he knew the water was red, but the sight of it scared him. When he dropped in, he dove deep and came back up smiling. He said it had been too long since he had gone so deep. He wants to know who is going to join him next.”

“Make sure he is out of the way,” I said, backing up to give the next Water Dragon the room they required. “We will give you ten beats, then the next one will start coming.”

“Yes,” Bortear said and disappeared into the doorway.

I so desired to escape the ecosphere of two-legged beasts. I thought of following him. If I had known that our new one would one season become filled with them, I might not have been so eager.

I pounded my tail to the beat in my chest, then told the next Water Dragon to go. She worked her way to the doorway and, unlike the one before her, she did not hesitate. She pushed her body through and at one point, the rest of her body slipped through quick as a beat as her girth dragged the last few sapling-lengths of her.

A shorter period passed before Bortear came through the doorway.

“She is fine. The water does not affect her in any way either.”

“Very well,” I told him. “The rest of them will appear after ten beats each.”

Bortear nodded and flew back across.

I counted off the ten beats, and another male wiggled his way to our new home. Then the last male slid through, leaving the Water Mother as the last Water Dragon. I immediately understood my mistake in leaving her for last. When I counted, she moved to the doorway, but she stopped just short of the doorway. She stared in the direction that she had left her youngling.

She glared at me and said, “I cannot go.”

“Without two females, your kind will die. You must go. You will not survive here. The body of water you have is draining and will not last but for a limited number of moon-cycles, then you will die.”

“Then I will die with Yara, and I can watch the leader she will become.”

“You have witnessed that already,” I told her and did the only thing left to me.

I ran at her, grateful she had moved so close to the doorway before refusing to go. My body hit her mid-side, and we both crashed through the doorway. I attempted to remove myself from her falling form but could not get my wings open. We both slammed into the water. Winged Dragons do not swim for two reasons. One, we are heavy; the second is our feathered wings do not work after getting wet.

I hit the water with the Water Mother, and her significant body took me with her as she sank. The water here is darker than on the two-legged ecosphere, and as I watched, the light above faded. My lungs burned, and my head felt as if it was smashing together. Out of the darkness, something grabbed my leg and pulled my body from the entanglement of the Water Mother. My first thought had been predators, and they recognized that I was not a water creature, and therefore easy prey. Then we started for the surface, and I dared to hope that it was one of the other Water Dragons. My head broke through to blessed air, and my lungs inhaled deep.

The air here differs from that of the two-legged beasts’ ecosphere. It has a floral note. I detected the same smell on the opposite side of the doorway.

I bobbed on the water and stayed there because of Zaelner. Without him, I would have sunk again.

“Help me up to the doorway,” I growled at Bortear, who was staring at me from above in disbelief. “Water Mother decided not to leave at the last moment. I had to persuade her. Now get me out of this water,” I growled.

They finally came and got me, and as I rose to the gateway, I got an excellent view of our new home. I noticed a glow far to the southeast.

“Is that the lava island?” I asked, pointing.

“Yes.”

“It is farther than I thought.”

“Yes, sir, it would be a significant task to fly the Fire Dragons, but one the Winged Dragons could perform,” Bortear said.

“Of course we could.” But should we? I thought.

Would the vessels be the best way? Had I been mistaken?

I despised the idea of using two-legged beast tools, but we needed to get our clan there safe.

As my kin pulled me through the doorway, I beheld the pale red sky.

They swept me across the threshold and sat me on the ground as sounds of chaos rose from the bottom of the mountain. The ones who carried me flew higher as I hurried down the mountain. Until my feathers dried, I was landbound.

“They are losing the first tʃu!” my kin roared.

I quickened my pace.

“What happened?”

“It appears the rope did not hold, and if it goes, it will take the other.”

Adner

The start of transporting the vessels proceeded well. Fire Dragons pulled from the front of the tʃus by the ropes. The Spirit Dragons pushed from the rear and guided the tʃus around the remaining trees from the sides. The path was narrow, and the vessels required gentle maneuvering to miss the edges of the stately tulp trees.

We were halfway when the passage narrowed. The lead tʃu caught a protruding root of a majestic tulp tree. The tree refused to give, and the rope snapped. They held on as best they could, for the Fire Dragons knew the second vessel was only a few sapling-lengths beneath them. The Spirit Dragons at the stern on the starboard side pushed with their combined strength. The ones on the left abandoned their side to help the others. They needed to lift the corner to remove the tʃu from its locked position on the tree root. The vessel needed to slide back to accomplish this. They were afraid to let it slide, for fear of not being able to stop its descent.

From the upper part of the mountain came a mighty roar, which I recognized. I also knew there was no assistance coming from him. He had made his stance clear.

“The rope is giving way on the other side,” my sister hollered from the bow of the tʃu.

I stared at the two tʃus and realized what was rapidly approaching. The bit of rope holding on would snap. Then the lead tʃu would smash into the Fire Dragons, pulling the others. The only option I saw was to sacrifice the long-awaited tʃus. The labor of the countless was deposited into them. We were being given no choice but to let them crash into the mountain base and hope they were salvageable.

I flew to the rear vessel and roared for their attention. I started to instruct them to let go of the tʃu’s rope and run. Before I could, shadows started covering the ground. I glanced up the mountain, and racing toward us was Winark. His wings were dripping and he was unable to fly. He passed the Fire Dragons going to the tree and gave the vessel a mighty kick. It came free of the tree. From above, the Winged Dragons came and grabbed the tʃu. They were unable to lift it into the air, but they took a sufficient amount of the weight. The Fire Dragons in the front were able to move to the stern. The Winged Dragons grabbed a hold of the bow-shaped like a Water Dragon head, and they pulled. Behind us, they guided the other vessel by the tree unharmed, with the Winged Dragons lifting the one side.

I searched for Winark and sighted him at the second vessel, making sure the ropes were holding up to the strain. I had no idea what prompted his change, and to this sun-cycle, I do not. One sun-cycle, he might tell me, but I doubt it.

When both tʃus were sitting near the doorway, the rest of the dragons gathered, and I made my last trip to the colony and thanked them for their help. They had done much for us, and I felt our deeds for them had been insignificant.

“Let the Winged Dragons who are not helping with Fire Dragons enter our new ecosphere first.”

As they filed through, I flew high and bowed thanks to the creatures that guarded the life tree. If they had not helped, we would have died, or worse. When I returned to the doorway, most of the Winged Dragons were in our newfound home.

“Alright, the tʃu,” I said.

“There is a lengthy drop over there,” Winark said.

I eyed him and asked, “Is that how you got wet?”

“Water Mother decided she did not want to go, so we left together,” Winark said. A smile touched his beak.

“Oh, sorry. We should have been here.”

“And what were you going to do? She had to go. It meant the end of their kind without her. She had to have someone do it. She could not live with herself leaving. Now I own the fault of her leaving. I do not mind. If she really did not want to leave and thought that little of her kind, why did she place herself in front of the doorway? She certainly would not have let us lift her from the lake.”

“You are not as gruff as you let everyone believe you are.”

“Yes, I am. It just takes me a while to figure out that I am being stupid,” Winark told me just before we started the monumental task of getting the Fire Dragons to their new homes.

After we believed everyone had enough beats to make way for the vessels, the Fire Dragons started pushing the rear tʃu through. It disappeared bit by bit, and then the stern shot up and slipped out of sight. We waited for a Winged Dragon to appear and inform us about how things had gone. It seemed like a long wait.

After several beats, Bortear came back.

“It landed upside down. The Water Dragons flipped it over. There is not a considerable amount of water in it, and the tʃu is floating. They tested the rope, and they can pull it. Did you get the other rope fixed?”

My kin had been working on the rope since they arrived. We glanced over at them and saw they were still working on it.

“We need more time. It is almost done,” Seemia said.

“Why do we not try getting the Fire Dragons on the first tʃu?” Winark suggested. “Who is first?”

“I will be the first to go.”

Fire Mother, Flamnor’s mother, stepped up first.

“Mother,” her son said, stepping up to her, “there are younger, powerful dragons who can go first.”

“Yes, and they are needed for the future above an old female dragon. I will go first, and with the Winged Dragons and Water Dragons, I am sure I will be fine.” She stepped to the doorway. “Now, if one of you chilly males would be so kind as not to keep an old dragon waiting.”

Winark walked up to her.

“This may not be painless. It was not for the Water Dragons, and your scales differ from theirs and ours. Ours have ridges that our claws can grip, so we can lift each other without pain. The Water Dragons—on the other paw—we had to put our claws under their scales. Yours are seamless. There is no place for us to take hold.”

She nodded.

“We have two choices. We can try to grip your scales as best we can, though I fear our claws will tear your hide. Or we can grip those beautiful spiraling horns of yours. I believe your horns are the wiser plan. It may hurt—it will hurt—but the trip will be brief. We should be able to put you back on your feet with care.”

“Alright, horns sound the best to me.”

“Good, I wish I could take you myself, but my wings need a bit more drying before I trust them to hold a passenger. So, my best is going to transport you.”

“Alright.”

She was nervous, and her son was worse. Seemia was with him.

“Winark should take her,” he whispered to my sister.

“I know, but he would not want to put her in danger,” Seemia said, calming him. “The one taking her is their best. Remember, he is one of them who saved your Fire Dragon from the marsh.”

Bortear hovered over Fire Mother.

“Ready?” he asked.

Fire Mother nodded as she stared at the doorway.

He grabbed hold of each horn and began lifting her off the ground. Similar to when the Water Dragons departed their ocean for the first time, it was frightening. Out of reflex, her tail snapped up and grabbed one of Bortear’s back legs. He wobbled for less than one beat, then steadied himself.

“Sorry,” she said as she pulled her tail from its hold.

“If that makes you steadier, fine. I just was not prepared for it,” he told her. “Only do not hold too tight.”

The Fire Dragon’s tail could have cut the circulation off from the Winged Dragon’s foot. She could have taken his foot in those beats. With fortune it appeared to loosen before they slipped into the doorway. Again, we waited to hear if everything progressed as planned. This waiting was getting tiresome, but soon we would arrive on the other side. When the vessels were fully occupied, it would be the burden of most of the Spirit Dragon kin to finish moving both tʃus, and we were unsure how many journeys lay ahead of us.

It seemed forever before Bortear came back. When he did, he was smiling.

“It went well. Using her tail helped. They get heavy, and getting them on the vessel takes a few beats so they do not tip it. The more dragons, the harder it will get. Three additional dragons, two larger, one small. Four each, and if we get good at it, maybe the fourth one could be full-grown also, but they will have little room.”

“Perfect. Who is next?” Winark asked.

Many of them shuffled forward. Flamnor approached the front and started deciding who was going. When the vessels were full, eight dragons stood in them. The Spirit Dragons flew through the doorway.

When I saw our new ecosphere, I knew we had found our home. No other location could exist as perfect as the one bestowed upon us on that bright sun-cycle. The air smelled of flora. I looked up at the pale red sky. The Red Sea before us appeared to go on forever. I spied the lava island only because it had a glow. The additional islands were too distant to observe. After getting the ropes placed properly, the Water Dragons were ready to go. The Fire Dragons laid down to make themselves more stable.

“Let us go. We have many more waiting,” I told them.

They started at a slow pace, letting the dragons on board get used to the movement of the sea. When everyone appeared to be doing well, they increased their speed. The Water Dragons never accelerated to their full velocity for fear of losing a passenger. The Spirit Dragons watched the Fire Dragons with care.

“I told you I was going to watch your clan pull these tʃus to shore,” I heard from behind me.

Glancing back, I saw that Winark was able to fly again.

“I was hoping those wet wings would keep you landbound for a while longer,” I told him.

A hearty laugh came from him.

The trip was lengthy, and the sun-cycle was being eaten away. When the Water Dragons felt the temperature rising too high, they stopped. We could see the island. It had high volcanoes that were active. We saw bubbling lava streams and lakes. On the surface of the black rock were fern-like plants, and we could view shelled beasts in the molten rock. Four-legged creatures were roaming in and out of the magma. The Fire Dragons stood attempting to view their new home better, and the vessels rocked. This scared them. They shifted, and the back of one tʃu plummeted beneath the water. The dragon in the back panicked and hurried forward, causing the front to dip.

“Stand still,” Winark bellowed.

It was too late. The elderly Fire Mother fell over the side into the water, and, without her weight, the vessel righted itself.

“Get her,” he roared again.

I was never so grateful to him. The fifth Water Dragon sped to her aid and brought her to the surface, and Winark placed her in the tʃu.

“Now sit, all of you,” he commanded, and they listened.

“Spirit Dragons, our time has come,” I told them, and they gathered at the front of both vessels.

We are the smallest of the dragons and not built for battle or hard labor, but that sun-cycle we gave all we had.

Many pairs of pale purple wings pushed the air as best they could.

“Together,” I said through my straining body.

I knew the biggest battle was getting the vessels started. Winark knew it as well.

“Together,” I heard him voice, and finally the tʃus lurched forward.

I glanced back fast enough to note a couple of Winged Dragons rising from the stern of the vessel. They could not approach the island, but they could give us a start. We only had to finish it.

We did just that. The Spirit Dragons pulled the tʃu to a small island off the coast. The vessels bumped into the rocky shore, and the Fire Dragons hurried onto solid ground. All but the old Fire Mother proceeded to the lava island.

“I will wait for the others,” she said. “I am warming up here.”

“As you wish, we will be back as soon as possible,” I told her.

We returned the tʃus faster. Without the passengers, the Water Dragons went full speed. Experienced with carrying Fire Dragons this time, the loading was faster as well. Every dragon lay down when boarded, which increased the space, and a couple of smaller ones were able to fit. The Water Dragons started slow again, and everything was fine until the first sickness happened. We had never observed this and assumed the dragon was already ill, until additional dragons on other vessels started getting sick and seemed fine once they were on land.

Fire Mother never left the small island. She was there when the last Fire Dragons arrived across the sea. It took many sun shifts, but with the Winged Dragons’ help, it ended up being a lot less. The sun had shadowed the mountains on the two-legged beasts’ ecosphere, and the sun in our unfamiliar home just started to set. The cycle’s differences were slight, which helped us get used to the new ecosphere. In that dark-cycle, as the dragons traveled to the islands they were going to call home, a large silver moon rose into the sky.

My kin and I headed east to where an island was supposed to be perfect for our kind. The flight felt lengthy to me, and I became concerned about dragonkind staying as one. The Water Dragons had taken the tʃus to the island that no dragonkind claimed. Much needed to be figured out in the cycles ahead, but our clan required a period of healing and grieving. Countless did not make it with us. The loss had been enormous at the river, but the loss preceding that had been insurmountable, and we never had any cycles or beats to grieve those losses—mothers, younglings, newlings, fathers, mates, siblings, and friends. The torment and death we endured were so profound that they will forever haunt our darkmares.

We came to our island, and unknown creatures greeted us. They rose from the water and moved with a fluidity only creatures of water can possess. Their bodies stayed hidden beneath the waves, but their large gentle eyes welcomed us as if they had been waiting for our arrival. They sang out together in a low tone, which traveled in and above the water. In the distance, we heard the song of the Water Dragons. Their song was a mournful tone, as they always are, but that darkfall it was saturated with sorrow. They sang goodbye to what was our home, and to the ones left behind.

We finished our journey to the island that would mourn the loss of my kind in seasons ahead, but that dark-cycle, the weeping trees, appeared to welcome us with their draping limbs. The moving flowers danced at our arrival, and there was lush grass covering it from shore to shore. We landed and walked through it and found it softer than the darker green grass on the two-leggeds’ ecosphere. After the long sun-cycle, we lay underneath the trees. Exhausted, we waited for the sun-cycles ahead to make the island our home.