Chapter 6
Dragonair and Dragon are far more alike than we might like to believe - perhaps that is what scares us? One is human, granted the ability to become a dragon, though at no small price; the other, though possessing numerous abilities, is rare to have the ability to take a human form. It seems our form challenges or repulses them. Perhaps both.
Excerpt from the Dragonair Chronicles Vol 6
The clouds parted, revealing a bright, jewel-blue sky and warmth from a sun that wasn’t nipped by icy winds. The perfect time to climb. Wren double-checked her gear, just once more, then reached up and grasped the first hold, then another. She dug her feet in, propelling herself up as she rapidly grasped with her hands, the ground rapidly vanishing beneath her. Even without looking down she knew she was high but she wasn’t afraid. Elise was right. Removed from the worries of below she felt free, completely in her own element.
As she came to the first outcrop she hauled herself onto it and sat up, letting her legs dangle over the side. The long slope of the mountain cut down into a sprawling valley that advanced onto the horizon. Small tendrils of smoke wound up through the thick forest that seemingly consumed all in sight, hinting at the tiny snatches of civilisation that indicated that her own little village wasn’t alone. It was easy to look out, to miss that smoke and to think perhaps you were from the last pocket of living souls. In many ways it was as though they lived in their own little world, forgotten and otherwise at peace.
She took a sip from her water skin, then fastened it back in place before she rose and set off again. There were no outcrops in which to rest, so she climbed swiftly but carefully, avoiding any unnecessary pauses to tire herself. When her hand finally curled over the edge she swiftly scrambled onto safe ground and flopped onto her back, dimly aware of her arms shaking and a lightness in her head. A dangerous feeling to climb on.
When she finally sat up she looked around, noted how the ground sprawled out before, a fair-sized clearing enclosed by steep cliffs on all side that rose up into the clouds. The very clouds that hung eternally in the mountain peaks, obscuring the Empire that she’d briefly glimpsed. She could practically see it through the clouds and wondered if she might climb back there. Deep down, she knew she’d have to not only climb up but also trek inwards, then perhaps up some more. She didn’t have enough supplies that.
With time to spare she surveyed the clearing end to end, using her small pick to dig into the soil and, finding it dark and soft, wrapped some up in cloth. It looked rich enough soil to serve as a new harvest area and big enough to support good growth. She moved on, walking the edge of the clearing, inspecting the rock face for any places to climb up. The rock was rough, ideal for climbing, though when the ice set in the danger would be amplified. It was completely vertical and, in sections, seemed to curve into the clearing, which ruled it out for weaker Climbers. Not out of her ability but it’d still be a challenge.
As she neared the end of her survey she found the cliff wall seemingly fold inwards, revealing the small mouth of a narrow cave, scarcely more than a slit in the rock. Had she not walked so closely to it she probably would’ve missed it completely.
Inching closer she peered into the thick darkness, heard the feint trickle of water from within. Rationally, she told herself that a water source was vital for any harvesting intended in the clearing. Deep down, it was her curiosity above everything that made her squeeze into the thin gap, shimmying along until she stumbled into what felt like a slightly larger space. It was still dark, though if she glanced back she still spied the thin gap she’d come through. With her hand she felt along the cold stone, which grew colder beneath her touch…and wet, too. She brought her hand to her lips, tasted water on her lips. It was cold and fresh, nicer than the stuff they brought up from the wells in the village.
Moving along the sound of water grew louder and the darkness softened before her, parting slowly to reveal the dull glow of daylight. She crept closer until she passed across the threshold of light. For a moment she was blind, then the world dimmed in its resplendent brightness, revealing a cave with a large opening in the roof, revealing a cloudy sky above. From the opening a thin bubble of water trickled down, straight into a deep pond below, rimmed with blue flowers, like the red ones they grew but blue. When she knelt down and brushed her fingers across the soft petals they had the same velvety texture.
She plucked a few, wrapped them up and set them in her pack. Then she stood again, looked around. In one corner there was several trunks and jars, some stack three or four high. There was the wooden frame of a bed pressed up against the wall, the mattress long gone. She turned back to the trunks and knelt by them. Each one wasn’t locked but - when she tried to lift them opened they refused. She ran her hands over them but found nothing to indicate locks or anything holding it together. It was smooth, nothing to reveal how to open it.
With a sigh, she sat back. She wondered if it belonged to a Climber that had once lived in the village. Certain routes got covered in so much ice that traversing the cliffs normally was too treacherous. In some cases, the avalanches that sometimes occurred reshaped the mountains themselves. Paths were lost, others were found or rediscovered after being lost for decades. It had happened.
Still, as she rose and glanced about the room, she didn’t see the tell-tale signs of Climbers. There was no gear, no spare parts for replacement, additional furs or harvesting tools. Besides, had it been a site for a Climber, there was no indication that the area had ever grown the red flowers. The blue flower by the pond was the only real growth she’d seen and even that she couldn’t make sense of.
So, if it was from the Dragonair’s and their empire, why was it so low? It seemed so far from what she’d seen, so that begged the question what was this place? Whose refuge had this been?
As she wandered around, she caught sight of something beneath the bed. Kneeling down she reached under and fished out what she realised was a book. It had a thick leather wrapping that still smelt of oil and a golden symbol emblazoned on the front – the figure of a dragon was curled within it.
She opened up the diary but, as expected, the writing was unknown to her. With a sigh, she closed it and slipped it into her pack, fastening it down firmly. With a final glance she vowed to come back, to find a way into the trunks. There was a mystery in the mountains that she was determined to unlock. Somehow.
Back out into the clearing she stilled. The sky had blackened into a ugly storm with heavy clouds that writhed restlessly above, heavy with the promise of rain. Wind whipped up, howling viciously across the clearing, slamming into her. She staggered, caught herself on the rock and retreated back into the gap, cursing. If she stayed overnight again her family would be furious. The Climbers would be angry, too. Training included recognising the signs of storms and, in truth, she’d seen them. She just ignored them, believing she had time – or that she was untouchable. Facing a wyvern and living did that.
Exhaling slowly, she knew she could make it down the cliffs fast and the wind would probably pin her to the cliff, rather than tear her off. Yet looking to the edge, knowing the village wasn’t that far, she couldn’t do it. She was bold, not suicidal. Contrary to what her team mates might believe. Which left her on the mountain, without food, trapped for at least the night and that was if the storm abated sufficiently by morning. Given how some storms played out on the mountains she wasn’t so sure. Then she knew when she got down, not if, that everyone would give her an earful, that she should’ve seen the signs and known.
Retreating back into the cavern she made a small fire and curled up by it, falling into a deep sleep, dreaming of flying and the sunlight falling on gold-touched wings.
Morning beckoned with sunlight spilling in from above, warming the cavern with a feint mist swirling across the floor. Wren peered through a crack in her eyelid; then, seeing the sun, opened her eyes fully and sat up with a groan. Her shoulder was stiff from the hard ground. By the time she stepped outside the storm had died, revealing a bright blue sky and no hint of a storm.
She set off to the edge and wasted no time, slowly easing herself down over the side. In the back of her mind she knew what she doing wasn’t naturally comfortable for a human. Deep down she knew she should feel fear, just like she preached to the other Climbers. However, though she had slips and her heart raced, it wasn’t like when she’d stared down the wyvern and glimpsed death. On the cliff, she knew a fall would kill her but it didn’t paralyse her. Perhaps because she had accepted the risks. Maybe she was crazy.
On the cliff side she felt at her most comfortable, not on edge like she was at the village. That ought to mean something was wrong with her but what? What did it say about her when she felt more at home on the side of a cliff, nothing holding her there, than amongst family and friends in a village she’d grown up in? Probably nothing flattering but she’d long ago ceased to try and please people. It wasn’t her job as a Climber. Elise was the flattering, pretty sister, not Wren.
In her own mind she didn’t hear the wyvern – she saw it too late. A shadow behind her, swooping. Wings, flapping. Then, another cry – a dragon’s cry and she gasped. Something hit her, tore her from the cliff. Wildly, with a bolt of shock, she reached for the cliff but it fell further from her reach as she fell down.
Then the darkness swallowed her whole.
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