 
### Dragons of Daegonlot: Book One

### Dragon Orb

### By Shanlynn Walker

Copyright © 2015 by Shanlynn Walker

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This story is a work of fiction. Names and characters are a product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Printing, 2015

### Table of Contents

Chapter One

Survivor

Adopted

Conflict

Chapter Two

Hatched

Hatchling

Chapter Three

History Lesson

Chapter Four

Riiele

Chapter Five

Danger

Chapter Six

Departure

Chapter Seven

Crash Landing

Company

Chapter Eight

Trakon

Chapter Nine

Friendship

Chapter One

You may trod me in the very dirt but still, like dust, I'll rise.

_~_ Maya Angelou

Survivor

The dragon climbed to the top of the hill, her last surviving egg clutched gently in her huge jaws. Exhausted by the long trek, she gingerly placed the egg on the ground and curled herself around it, half closing her eyes as she rested. From her vantage point she could see the town of Goldspine sparkling in the valley below.

Goldspine was not a huge town given its location on top of a floating island vaguely resembling a dragon's head. The island itself was known as Daegonlot and it was the last place the dragons roamed unmolested. Few people knew of its existence, and fewer still knew there were still dragons living upon it, and fewer than that knew there was an actual town nestled within its central valley. The old dragon knew this had not always been the case. She could remember when dragons and dragon riders were tolerated, and even welcomed, in Darkenfel. But that was long ago, when the races and kingdoms were starting to emerge from the Myste and discover each other, before the bitter wars were waged for land and homesteads.

The dwarves and the elves were old races, although the dragon could also remember when they first emerged, or evolved would be more appropriate. The elves had evolved from the ancient fey until they were as separate from the fey as a rock is to a mountain. They had lost much of their innate wild magic, but what they retained was still powerful. The old dragon doubted there was an elf alive that really knew their true history. It seemed as time went on they forgot more and more of where they came from until they became convinced they had just always been. But the dragon remembered.

She also remembered the dwarves who had once been lost rock spirits known as the mimotan. They had lost their homes during the massive land movements that split Daegonlot from the lands below and had wandered, lost, for many years before starting to convene and evolve into flesh and blood creatures.

Snorting, the dragon shook the memories from her mind and peered down at Goldspine again. She was dying. She doubted she had another day of life left in her. This did not scare her. Over her long, long life she had seen many wondrous things as well as many terrifying things and she knew that eventually all creatures died. She had outlived every single other dragon she had known when she was young. For the past few months she had been growing weaker, losing all appetite, and had been given to dozing off for long periods at a time, lost in the past that was held in her mind. It was for this very reason that her other eggs had perished. Most of them had been scavenged by other animals, taken while she was lost in the past or getting water from the lake. The one she was now curled around was the last of the nine eggs she had laid and she knew she would not live to hatch it.

What was left of the dragon riders now lived in Goldspine, separated from the rest of the world on their floating island. She knew they would have the knowledge to care for her egg. Lowering her head, she gently nuzzled the onyx egg. Small veins of crimson and purple wound through the shell and small silver spots covered the surface. The old dragon had never been bonded to a rider and had never wanted to be. She had been born wild and lived wild her whole life and that was what she wished for her hatchling. But she knew if she left her egg in the wilderness and died before it hatched it would not survive. Even if by some miracle it did survive there would be no one to teach the newborn how to hunt or how to fly.

She blew out a small stream of fire to warm the egg and gently reached out with her mind to the tiny consciousness inside. She thought it was a male hatchling. The tiny life already had a willful mind and an assertive personality, bordering on aggressive. With the mental link still intact, she poured her knowledge and memories into its tiny mind, hoping it would retain at least some of the knowledge she possessed. It was still quite young for such complex transference, but she had very little time left to pass on her vast stores of knowledge and she wanted to give it the best chance for survival she could.

Feeling even weaker from maintaining the link with her young, the dragon gently closed her jaws around her egg again and, spreading her massive wings, launched herself off the cliff toward the town below.

Adopted

Daxon was walking home. Once again he had attended a Hatching, and once again, he had not been chosen by any of the five newborn hatchlings. Already sixteen years old, he knew it was unlikely he would ever be chosen. Most hatchlings chose their riders right out of their shells, and most of those selected were not more than twelve. Some were as young as six. This gave both the hatchling and the chosen rider plenty of time to grow and learn together, as well as to solidify their bonding. Even though Daxon was obviously of Elven descent due to his slanted eyes, slightly pointed ears and delicate bone structure, he was still just as tall as a human boy of sixteen, although probably more slender, and the chances of being chosen at this stage were slim to none.

Even worse than not being chosen were the looks of pity from Borl and Sikir. They both knew how much he wanted to be a dragon rider. Ever since they had taken him in when he was just a young child of five or six years old, stumbling and alone in the surrounding forest, all he had ever talked about were dragons. He had taken to their bondmates, Bruul and Sasha, talking to them incessantly and trying to glean any knowledge he needed to be fit to be a rider.

And here he was sixteen, well past the age of being chosen. There had been a time tonight when the last dragon to hatch, a small, slender silver with bronze claws and spine spikes, had lurched toward him and his heart had risen into his throat. It had tottered right by him to a small red headed girl who looked to be about ten years old. He knew she was the daughter of Sol and Nema. In a town of only a few hundred people it was hard to not know everyone. He told himself he was happy for her, and he was, but he was also bitterly disappointed. Being a rider is all he ever wanted to be, and now as that dream seemed further and further out of reach he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He had never thought of being anything else and had never learned, or even tried to learn, another skill. All his time had been spent learning as much as he could about dragons and being a rider.

Glancing up at the darkening sky he pinpointed the dragon constellation, Dragir, just beginning to wink into existence. It was then he noticed there was another dragon in the sky, which normally would not be anything extraordinary, except this dragon was not the silver, gold, and bronze hue of most of the remaining rider's dragons. Due to years of exile and the limited number of dragons and riders who had survived and founded Goldspine, the rider's dragons had over time become almost uniform in color with only an occasional occurrence of green or red spine spikes.

Squinting, Daxon saw this dragon was black. Not only was its color not the normal color of a rider's dragon, it was also easily three times the size of any of the dragons from the town. Daxon knew there were wild dragons on Daegonlot but he had seldom seen any and the few times he had it had always been from a distance. The wild dragons had not ever attacked the town, but they stayed separate and did not socialize with the 'tame' dragons.

This dragon was flying directly to the town, its huge wings blotting out what little sunlight was left in the sky. The people leaving the Hatching hadn't noticed it yet, and as Borl and Sikir walked up to Daxon and saw him staring open mouthed at the sky, they, too, turned and looked. And their mouths fell open in surprise.

The dragon landed about one hundred yards from Daxon, and then stumbled two or three steps before falling heavily, the huge head and fangs as long as his arm just a few mere feet from where he was standing. Everyone on the street seemed stunned to silence and all that could be heard was the dragon's heavy breathing. The dragons from the town seemed unsure of what to do with the massive behemoth that had just landed in their midst, most of them taking to the sky to wheel overhead in case the huge beast attacked.

The strange dragon opened one eye and looked directly at Daxon. As she did, Daxon noticed she was holding something in her mouth, but he couldn't make out what it was as it was partially hidden from view by her huge teeth. Just then he felt a very wild, very alien voice speak to him.

_My egg_ , the voice said. _Take my egg._ The voice sounded like an earthshake in his head, powerful and gravelly all at once. Daxon realized it was the dragon speaking to him and the thing she had in her mouth was an egg. Unsure if he should approach the dragon, whose teeth, he noticed, were wider than he was, he took a tentative step forward. Borl immediately reached out and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, but Daxon shook it off, waving that he was alright.

He took another step forward and the dragon opened her mouth slightly and pushed the egg to the front of her mouth on her tongue. Watching her warily, Daxon closed the rest of the distance between them and peered at the egg. It was huge. The largest dragon egg he had ever seen, which shouldn't have been surprising seeing how massive the mother was. There was no way he could lift the egg himself, so turning, he gestured for Borl and Sikir to come forward as well. Moving slowly, they walked up until they were standing by Daxon and looked into the dragon's mouth.

Daxon heard Borl inhale sharply. "She wants me to take her egg," Daxon said. "Can you help me lift it?"

Borl stared at him long enough that Daxon thought he was going to refuse, but with a sharp nod he reached into the dragon's mouth and rolled the egg to the edge of her long tongue. The three of them wrestled the egg out of her mouth, all the while casting wary looks at the massive fangs just inches from their heads. Carefully, they lowered the egg to the ground but couldn't move it much further. The egg reached to Borl's chin and even with both arms extended he could not encompass more than half of the narrow end of it.

With the egg finally out, the dragon slowly closed her mouth, her breathing coming faster and shallower.

_His name is Drakthir_ , whispered into Daxon's mind, and then the mental link was broken and the dragon's presence withdrew. Stumbling to her feet, the dragon turned and launched herself into the air, disappearing with a few beats of her wings into the now darkened sky.

Conflict

After the wild dragon's departure chaos ensued. Lyel, whose dragon was the father of the recent hatchlings, approached Borl, demanding to know what had just happened.

"I don't know," said Borl, casting a meaningful glance at Daxon.

"She was dying," Daxon said, although he wasn't sure how he knew this. "She wanted me to take care of her egg."

Lyel looked toward the egg and blanched. "There is _no way_ we can hatch a wild dragon here! Who knows what it will be like once it hatches, other than it will most likely be huge from the looks of this egg." He eyed the egg with a bemused expression.

"It's still a baby dragon hatchling," said Daxon, "no matter where it came from. Who knows? Maybe it will choose a rider. The worst that can happen is it will return to the wild."

"The worst that can happen is it could attack someone and kill them," muttered Lyel. "The council will have to vote on this. We will convene at first light tomorrow morning. I'll spread the word." And with that, Lyel cast one last look at the egg, shook his head, and walked away to notify the others on the council.

Borl turned toward Daxon. "That was either a really brave thing you did, or one of the stupidest things I've ever seen someone do," he said.

"She spoke to me," Daxon said. "I knew she wasn't here to hurt anyone. She just wanted me to take care of her egg."

Daxon felt a little guilty saying this because it wasn't entirely the truth. Yes, the dragon had spoken to him, and it had just wanted them to take care of its egg, but Daxon hadn't really known for sure she wouldn't attack him or anyone else. In fact, if things had gone differently, and the townspeople had attacked her, he had a feeling things would not have worked out so well for Goldspine. Dying or not, that had been the largest dragon by far that he had ever seen, tame or wild.

"She spoke to you?" Borl asked.

"Yes. She asked me to take her egg. Then she told me his name was Drakthir."

Borl looked back at the egg, then at Daxon again. "Would you mind if I had Bruul and Sasha move the egg into our empty cavern? It will be easier to watch and make sure nothing happens to it, and they can help keep it warm until it hatches."

"Does this mean you're going to vote to keep the egg?" asked Daxon warily. He really wanted to keep the egg, especially since the mother had given it into his care. It was his responsibility now and he didn't want to let her down. There was also a part of him that was hoping against hope it would choose a rider, and that rider would be him. If ever there was going to be a hatchling that could handle an older rider it would be this one. Of this he was sure. Besides, even if the hatchling didn't choose him as its rider, he would get to care for it until it chose a rider or left to rejoin the wild.

Borl hesitated, glancing at Sikir. She had remained silent throughout their exchange, looking thoughtfully at the egg as if contemplating if its arrival were a good or bad omen.

"Is that what you want?" he asked Daxon.

"Yes," Daxon said simply.

"Then I will vote to keep it. Besides, no matter how large the hatchling is it will not be as large as its mother. Our dragons should be able to handle any problems that arise until we see if it can fit in here or not."

With that, he turned away from Daxon, peering up at the dark sky. Within a few minutes Bruul, his large golden bondmate, dropped from the sky, setting down a few yards from the egg. Sasha, also golden, although a lighter shade and with silver spine spikes instead of crimson, landed just a moment after beside him.

The two looked at Borl, and Daxon knew he was speaking with them. He trusted Borl, and he trusted Bruul and Sasha as well. He had known all of them for as long as he could remember.

After just a few moments, Sasha flew off toward their home and Bruul gently grasped the egg in his mouth. Then he, too, flew off.

"They will take the egg to the cavern," Borl said. "You go ahead home. I'm going to go visit the other council members and get a feel for what they are saying. Ask Bruul to join me when he's finished. Neither him nor Sasha seem overly worried about the wild dragon, and both doubt it will hatch and go on a killing spree. Maybe he can help convince the council and their dragons they have nothing to fear."

Daxon watched Borl walk off, thinking of the council members. Humans, elves, and even a few dwarves lived on Daegonlot. The humans and elves each had two council spots due to them having a higher population. The dwarves only had one. Long ago there had been a few dwarf dragon riders, but there were not any now. Not only did most dwarves have an aversion to heights, and flying in particular, but the dragon hatchlings seemed to know this as well, and it was very rare for a dwarf to get chosen. The dwarves now busied themselves with making weapons and armor, both for riders and dragons, and with carving out dwellings from the surrounding mountains. Even though Goldspine was located in the valley, most of the living quarters were carved from the mountains on either side, accessible from dragon back and by walking up long, winding staircases.

Lyel was the other human on the council. Daxon didn't really like him. He was a nervous man, always looking around furtively as if waiting for something to jump out of the shadows at him. His dragon, Ricz, was a large bronze male and Daxon liked him very much. Unlike his rider, Ricz was very calm and deliberate in manner. He didn't speak much, but when he did everyone listened. He was well known for his wisdom and even among the humanoid races he was respected as being a great thinker and problem solver.

The two elves on the council were Obrin and Roila, and they ran the dragonrider school. Daxon liked both of them and knew they both had a love for dragons, tame and wild. Obrin's bondmate was a small silver female named Balasta and Roila's bondmate was an enormous gold dragon named Rylik. Daxon liked them both and found it interesting that they were the only solidly colored dragons in Goldspine. The two dragons were mated with each other, but had not yet produced a clutch of eggs.

Obrin had been the first person to ever tell Daxon there were wild dragons on Daegonlot. He had taken him to a lake far north of Goldspine in the hopes of seeing one. They had sat at the lake for nearly three hours before catching a glimpse of a young crimson male with bright orange spine spikes who landed on the far bank of the lake to drink. Daxon had been awed. He had never seen such a colorful dragon, had not even known there were dragons any color other than silver, gold or bronze. When he had asked Obrin why none of the rider's dragons were colored as this one, he had explained how the dragons had been isolated for many years, with a very small amount of them breeding since there were limited dragons unrelated. He had also explained to Daxon how the wild dragons did not socialize or mate with bonded dragons, choosing instead to keep well away from Goldspine.

The only dwarf on the council was Brik. He was surly and gruff, but an exceptional stone carver. He didn't care about flying, but he was friendly to all the rider's dragons and even employed them occasionally to help excavate on his more difficult projects. Daxon didn't think he would vote to destroy the wild dragon's egg, but he couldn't be sure.

Exasperated, Daxon started toward home. There was nothing he could do about it now. He would just have to wait until the morning to find out what the fate of the egg was to be.

Chapter Two

Wild animals never kill for sport. Man is the only one to whom the torture and death of his fellow creatures is amusing in itself.

~James Anthony Froude

Hatched

Daxon woke just as dawn's light was creeping over the horizon. Silently cursing to himself, he stumbled from his bed and went to see if Borl had left for the council meeting. He had wanted to stay awake last night until Borl got home to see if he could glean any information, but had fallen asleep before the older man had returned.

Searching their small dwelling, he found it deserted. There was a small plate of cheese, smoked venison, and hearth bread laid out on the small table in front of the fireplace. Sikir must have left it for him before she departed.

Sighing, Daxon took the food and wrapped it in cloth, then put it in his pocket. He wanted to check on the egg this morning and make sure it was warm. Before he had gone to bed last night, he had spoken with Sasha about the egg and knew she had warmed it gently with her dragon fire before retiring to her cavern. He bounded up the short flight of stairs that led to the dragon's nests, taking them two at a time. Leaping up the last step Daxon turned the corner and saw... nothing.

Confused, he walked further into the room and glanced at the ring of rocks lined with deep piles of hay and blankets he had tucked around the egg to help preserve heat. There was no sign of the egg. Vaguely he wondered if Borl had taken the egg to the council meeting, but immediately dismissed the idea. Borl knew how fragile the eggs were and dragons didn't normally move them unless there was no other choice. He didn't see any reason Borl would have moved this one.

Still puzzled, Daxon walked into the adjacent nesting chamber where Bruul and Sasha nested. He glanced quickly around the cavern but didn't see the egg. He was just turning to leave when a small flash of crimson caught his eye. It was in the far rear of the cavern, furthest from the large opening the dragons used to enter the cavern, in the darkest corner of the room.

Daxon laughed quietly to himself. Bruul was known for sleeping in late when Borl didn't need him.

Turning to leave , Daxon heard a wild, alien shrieking. The first thought he had was the old dragon had changed her mind and come back for her egg and was angry he didn't have it, but as the screeching continued he realized this was not the powerful voice of an adult dragon. He had never heard a hatchling make such a wild, terrible sound. It lacked the overall power of a full grown dragon, but was terrifying just the same. Dax felt a shiver run up his spine as he brought his hands up to give his ears some relief.

He looked around, trying to see where the young dragon was. Almost as if on cue, the hatchling walked toward Daxon, no hint of fear in its eyes. It was by far the largest hatchling Daxon had ever seen, already half the size of Bruul, and covered with onyx scales that reflected the sunlight like jewels. The eyes were a deep amethyst color and the scales around the mouth, eyes, and belly were also a deep purple that faded into black. Along the back the spine spikes were a metallic crimson color as were the small bony protrusions that would be its horns along the crest of the skull. The feet were tipped in dangerously sharp talons of the brightest silver.

_Where is my mother?!_ The young dragon demanded to know. Dax, his hands still covering his ears, pushed the memory of the hatchling's mother giving him her egg to the front of his mind and answered out loud, "I don't know where she is. She gave you to me and flew off." _Why would my mother give me to you?_ the hatchling asked him, her eyes boring into his with an intensity Daxon had never before experienced. "I don't know," he said, "she didn't tell me why she chose to give you to me, only that she wanted me to take care of you." He paused a moment, then said, "I think she was sick."

The young dragon digested this, her eyes never leaving Daxon's. Finally, she asked, _What is my name?_

Daxon thought quickly. The hatchling's mother had thought her offspring was a male, but that was clearly not the case. Although it was hard to differentiate a male hatchling from a female hatchling relying solely on visible means, the voice in his head was definitely a female. "Drakthira," he said hastily, "your name is Drakthira."

_Drakthira. Yes, that seems right._ Now that the mystery of her name had been solved, Drakthira issued a huge yawn, showing off the needle sharp teeth already formed in her cavernous mouth, turned around twice, and laid down with her tail curled against her body.

_I'm very hungry,_ she said, her eyes drooping heavily. "Yes, of course," Daxon said, mentally berating himself for forgetting how much young hatchlings eat the first few months of their life, and how hungry they normally were after hatching. "I'll go get you some meat." He wasn't sure she heard him over the gravelly sound of her snoring.

Hatchling

Borl returned at midday and found Daxon sitting at the small table in the kitchen, worry lines etched into his smooth brow. "Well?" he asked, "What did they decide?"

Borl considered Daxon for a moment before his eyes softened and a small grin found its way to his lips. "Everyone on the council, other than Lyel, of course, voted to keep the egg until it hatched. After that we will just have to see what happens. If the hatchling chooses a rider then it will have a place among us. If not, we will allow Sasha and Bruul to teach it to hunt and fly and let it return to the wild once it is old enough."

"She," said Daxon.

Borl looked at him quizzically. "She?" he asked.

Daxon cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, it's a she. Her name is Drakthira. She had already hatched when I woke up this morning." While he was talking he looked down at the table, tracing his finger along the grain of the wood.

"And where is she now?" Borl asked, watching Daxon intently.

"Sleeping," he said. "I fed her some of Sasha's kill from last night and she went to sleep afterward. I didn't expect her to hatch so soon. I will hunt for her dinner tonight," he said. Part of a chosen's duties included hunting food for their hatchling until it was old enough to hunt for itself.

"She chose you then?" asked Borl, relief evident in his face.

"Not really," Daxon said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes. "I don't think she's chosen anyone. I'm not even sure she would know how to choose someone. Her voice is very strong and untamed. I've never felt anything like it, except for maybe her mother's voice, but even it was more disciplined, more focused. Not so... feral."

Borl's eyebrows shot up at this last remark, his eyes becoming thoughtful. "Well, then," he said at last, "let's go see her."

They climbed the stairs to the nesting caves and found Drakthira still sleeping where Daxon had left her, the hindquarter of a large mountain goat gnawed down to a splinter of bone and hoof beside her. She slept with her head resting on her forelegs and her tail curled tightly around her in a bright shaft of sunlight. Her crimson spine spikes sparkled with a faint metallic hue and her silver claws flashed like mirrors. In this light Daxon could make out the small, delicate scales along her eye ridges that started out a deep royal purple color that gradually darkened to blend into black. On the bottom of her left hind foot was a dark sapphire blue scale instead of the onyx black the rest of the scales were, barely noticeable except in the bright light.

Hearing them approach, Drakthira lazily opened her eyes and stretched, causing brilliantly colored spots to dance around the walls and floor as her scales reflected the sunlight. _Is there more to eat?_ she asked, yawning widely.

"Yes," Borl said, "we can get you more to eat. In fact, Daxon was about to go hunting for your dinner tonight."

_There is no need_ , Sasha announced to the room as she landed gently beside Drakthira. Sikir slid off her back and walked cautiously up to stand beside Borl. "We went hunting today to refill our supplies of meat. Sasha went ahead and made a kill for the hatchling."

"How did she know the egg had hatched?" he asked.

_I didn't know for sure_ , Sasha said, _but I knew it would be soon._ She walked over to Drakthira and dropped a large stag in front of her, then lowered her muzzle and nudged her gently. Sikir's eyes widened slightly as the hatchling returned the gesture, releasing a low and contented growling sound from her chest. Then she placed one foreleg on the hind, gripped it in her mouth, and tore off a chunk of meat.

Moving away to avoid getting hit with any bloody meat bits, Borl suggested they let the hatchling eat and rest under Sasha's care and they all turned to go. Before they made it to the door, Bruul entered the cavern from the dragon entrance, banked sharply, and landed beside Sasha. Briefly touching muzzles with Sasha, he walked up to Drakthira, nuzzled her gently, and then he and Sasha lay down in a circle around the new hatchling, nose to tail.

Out of the corner of his eye Daxon saw Borl and Sikir exchange glances. The smile that had touched his lips died when he saw their expressions. He looked back at the new hatchling and the adoptive parents. Never, in all his years around dragons, had he seen this sort of display of protectiveness and affection. The dragons in Goldspine normally laid their clutch of eggs and both parents looked after them until they were ready to hatch, transferring as much knowledge as they could while they were in the egg. So it had been since the dawn of dragons. After the eggs hatched, the hatchlings would immediately upon exiting their shells choose a rider and go home with them. They did not take care of the baby dragons.

Daxon realized then he was seeing something that only happened with wild dragons. As that thought entered his head he immediately understood why Borl and Sikir did not look happy at the show of affection. Somehow these dragons, both of which had been born and raised in the company of their riders, were reverting back to wild dragon behavior. Drakthira, whether intentionally or not, was bringing about protective behavior from Bruul and Sasha, who were acting as if Drakthira needed protecting, here, in the middle of Goldspine.

Daxon felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to follow Borl and Sikir out of the dragon cavern. Silently, the three filed down the stairs into their living quarters. Sikir handed the large musk deer she had brought down during her hunting trip with Sasha to Borl to skin while she started some dough baking in the hearth for bread. Then she produced a hard brick of cheese and started slicing it, laying it out neatly on a carved wooden plate. During this time, no one spoke, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

Finally, not being able to stand the silence any longer, Daxon stood and asked the obvious questions, "Why do they think they need to protect Drakthira here, in the middle of Goldspine? And where did they learn that behavior?"

Glancing up from skinning the deer, Borl sighed, looked at Sikir, then back at Daxon with a worried expression. "We don't know, Dax," he said, "but if I had to guess, I'd say the dragons' ability of transference goes both ways. I had never considered it before now because I've never had to. Hatchlings are born and they go to their chosen riders and that is the end of it. But Drakthira, she doesn't have a rider, and she has adopted Bruul and Sasha as her parents. It seems they are acting the way she thinks they should, or maybe their natural instincts kicked in for a hatchling that is not being taken care of by a rider."

Daxon thought this over and agreed with him. Obviously there was something making the dragons act as if Drakthira were their very own hatchling and they should take care of and protect her. None of the riders could say how hatchlings were treated by the wild dragons; they would never tolerate the presence of a rider around themselves, much less their young. Daxon had only seen one hatchling in the wild in his life and even then it was a mere glimpse before it was gone.

"Maybe it will pass when she chooses a rider, or at least, as she grows," Daxon offered. Borl glanced at him, but quickly lowered his eyes. "I don't think that one will ever bend to a rider, Dax," he said gently. "If we have to wait until she grows it will be near impossible to keep this from the other riders. That can be problematic. I doubt many of the other riders would appreciate their dragons reverting to wild behavior."

Rising, Daxon grabbed a plate and filled it with two thick slices of the hot bread Sikir had just removed from the stone oven, and a thick slice of cheese. He understood what Borl was saying. He was also sure none of the riders would like to see their dragons "protecting" their young, especially from them. Taking a bite of the cheese sandwich he wondered how different the wild dragons really were from the 'tame' dragons. He had always thought there was little difference between them except that one accepted a rider and one would not. In light of recent events, he was no longer sure that was the case.

In fact, he realized, he had never really given much thought to what happened to hatchlings in the wild. In Goldspine the hatchlings hatched and went home with their young riders. Obviously that is not what happened in the wild. Like most animals they probably protected their young from other predators and taught them basic survival skills such as hunting and flying. He wondered how long young dragons stayed with their parents or if they ever left them at all.

"Is it really so bad," he wondered out loud, "for dragons to act like dragons?" Borl and Sikir looked at him evenly, but didn't speak. Still looking at each of them in turn, waving his hands to encompass his surroundings, he asked, "How did this happen?"

"How did what happen, Dax?" Sikir asked icily. The tone of her voice warned him to let this go, but he pushed ahead anyway, ignoring her.

"This," he said stubbornly, once more waving his hands around impatiently, "how did dragons come to be mounts for riders? How did it come to pass that riders were able to delegate where hatchlings went and who raised them? When did this responsibility get taken from them?" His voice had become increasingly louder as he spoke until it ended in a shout. He hadn't realized how angry he had become until he finished speaking and felt himself shaking with frustration at the way Sikir and Borl were acting, and, if he were honest, with himself for not asking these questions sooner. "How do we justify getting upset at the dragons for acting natural?"

"Look around you, boy," Sikir finally answered, her face flushed. "Nothing about Goldspine is 'natural' as you say! Do you really think dragons and people have always lived together in harmony? Don't be absurd!" She stalked out of the room and Dax heard the front door close loudly behind her. Turning to Borl, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Borl sighed and rose from his chair. Dax thought he looked much older right at that moment than he had ever seen him before. "Come, Daxon," he said, "perhaps it's time to retire for the night." Then he put his finger to his lips and motioned Daxon to follow.

Chapter 3

Transformation is a process, and as life happens there are tons of ups and downs. It's a journey of discovery - there are moments on mountaintops and moments in deep valleys of despair.

~Rick Warren

History Lesson

Daxon followed him through the great room where they sometimes held great celebrations or gatherings. Borl took a torch from its holder, lit it, and led him down long, curving steps to the deep, underground cavern that held much of their ale and wine stores, then even deeper to the cavern carved right out of the ground that held meat, cheese, and other provisions. Holding the torch out in front of him, he proceeded to the furthest corner of the room, handed the torch to Dax, then put his burly shoulder against the closest barrel filled with pickled vegetables and pushed. His face turned red with the strain, but the barrel finally moved two, then four, and, finally, six inches towards the corner and Dax heard a faint, but audible click as it engaged a hidden mechanism.

To his astonishment the floor between the barrel and the corner wall dropped out of sight and revealed a small, circular stone staircase that looked like it went deep underground. Borl took the torch from Dax, glanced warily down the dark hole for a moment, and then looked back at Dax. There was sadness in his eyes that Dax had never seen there before, a sadness that made him look older than his years, but there was also something else, something not easily identified. Defiance, perhaps? Resignation?

Borl started down the stairs slowly. It was difficult to move quickly because the staircase was not very wide, two men could not walk together but would have to go single file as they were now, and it curved tightly in upon itself so that it seemed to Dax they were simply walking a deep spiral into the earth itself. After an immeasurable amount of time spent trying to see the bottom of the seemingly endless pit they were descending into, Dax finally saw Borl step off the staircase into a small, square room that seemed to be carved out of packed earth and supported with natural rock columns and old, wooden timbers. To the left was a doorway into what looked like another underground room, only this one had a soft glow coming from it as if there was a fire burning in a hearth.

Borl led him through the doorway. Dax couldn't believe his eyes.

What Dax thought was another room was actually a large underground cavern. In the center was a pool of water so clear and pristine Dax could see the small, translucent bottom feeding fish darting about between rocks and crevices, feeding on particles too small for his naked eyes to see. Looking further from shore, Dax saw larger fish, some with colors he had no name for and so breathtakingly beautiful he felt he should look away so as not to sully them with his memories of the suddenly dull seeming world above. The colors he had always known and thought were so splendid seemed a mere reflection of what that color truly was, what it was truly meant to be, but he would never have noticed it had he not seen the 'true' colors here in this wondrous room.

In the very center of the lake, far from where he stood, Dax could make out a glowing globe of constantly changing 'true' colors floating slightly above a small island in the middle of the little lake. The globe pulsed and writhed with the constantly changing colors. As he watched, the globe emitted a small spark that hit the water and rippled across the surface, turning the placid surface into a vibrant prism that raced away on all sides, hit the shore, and continued on the land. He watched as it reached his boots and traveled up his body, and suddenly he felt like he had the crackling energy of a bright storm contained within his skin. Every part of him felt alive and rejuvenated, and, somehow, he felt like he was more now than he had been just a minute ago.

Breathing in deeply it seemed even the air seemed to be more... complete? Not exactly more complete, he thought, just more anchored in reality. More solid. More permanent. Looking back at the globe still writhing and pulsing he asked Borl, "What is this place?"

When the other man didn't answer immediately Dax turned to look at him and his eyes widened in shock. Borl looked the same, but so much more. His eyes, normally a lively gray color, were now a clear 'true' gray that made it look like he had a small, but powerful bright storm trapped within them. Those eyes were regarding him with a combination of fear, shock, and surprise.

"What?" Dax asked, "What is it?" Borl shook his head and blinked his eyes. "I'm not sure," he said, "probably nothing, just a trick of the light. For a moment there I thought..." he trailed off. Dax raised his eyebrows questioningly, but the moment passed and Borl said no more about it.

"So what is this place? And what does it have to do with dragons?" Dax asked again when it was clear Borl was not going to elaborate on what it was he thought he had seen.

"To answer that, I must first tell you some history about dragons and riders," Borl began. "Humans were the first of the humanoid races to bond with a dragon," he started, "Jessa Dragonheart, as she came to be known..."

Dax waved his hand impatiently. "I've heard this story," he said, "Every child is raised hearing about the great Jessa Dragonheart." Borl shook his head, silencing Dax. "You've only heard the story as it's told today. What I'm going to tell you is the true story, the story no one else knows except for Sikir and me." Dax regarded him doubtfully a moment, then asked, "Why would you and Sikir know a truth no other does?"

"Because we found the truth in this very room," he said, waving his hand around to encompass their surroundings. He beckoned for Dax to follow him and walked over to the eastern wall. He put the torch in a bracket affixed to the cavern wall and pulled back an old blanket and some burlap sacks stacked against the wall to reveal a small iron-bound wooden chest. It was unlocked. The hinges protested loudly as Borl, grunting, forced the lid open.

Inside was an old, leather-bound tome with the words _Dragon Magic_ scrawled across the top. Dax reached in and picked it up gently. The book was so old the pages were crinkled and stained with age, and the edges of some had already disintegrated slightly. Awed to be holding something so incredibly old, he asked Borl in a small, shaky voice, "What is this? Who wrote it?" Borl didn't answer but gestured to the book he held in his hands as if he wanted Dax to open it.

Carefully, so as not to tear any of the pages, he opened the book to the first page and read:

January 9, 2010

The world gets crazier and more desperate every day. Every time I see a newspaper there are news stories too shocking to comprehend. People are killing each other in their desperation to escape from poverty. Unemployment is high, resources scarce to those who cannot afford them. Parents are even killing their children, saying it is more merciful for them to die than to face this world of greed and corruption. How did we end up like this?

Even here, in the middle of the mountains of eastern Kentucky, I can feel the effects. It's becoming harder and harder to avoid hunters trying to find something to eat in the last place they can. While trying to avoid detection today I found this small cave located behind a small waterfall of mountain spring water. There is a tiny pool at the bottom of the falls that seems to still have some small fish in it, and the falls itself seems to be, as yet, undiscovered by anyone else. I think I will try to hole up here for as long as I can. There is plenty of fresh water, the small pond, and I may even set out some simple snares for rabbits or squirrels. If I'm lucky, I should be able to stay for at least a few months.

Dax glanced up from reading and asked, "What's a January? Or a newspaper?" Borl spread his hands and shrugged; clearly he didn't know. "There is much contained in the writings we don't understand," he said. "I think the January line is a date, although it doesn't seem like any date I've ever seen before. Of course we know what mountains are, but no one has ever heard of a place called 'Kentucky' before. If you keep reading, some things become clearer. I think you have about half an hour left to be able to read, unless another ripple comes before that..." he trailed off and looked across the lake at the swirling globe suspended above its little island.

"What do you mean?" Dax asked, looking at Borl with a perplexed expression on his face.

"You cannot read the book outside of this cavern," he started, "It's not the cavern itself, it's the spark that comes from the globe out there" and he waved his hand toward the lake. "The spark can only reach this room. When its effects wear off you will not even be able to read the book, the writing looks foreign, like nothing we have ever seen before. The effects seem to last for about an hour or so, and during that time it may drop another spark, which will prolong the effects even more. But, eventually, they will wear off and you will see what is written in that book is no kind of language you recognize or should be able to read. Somehow, the dragon globe makes it so we can understand it, even if for just a little while."

"Dragon globe?" Dax asked. He turned and looked at the swirling globe of intertwining colors. "Why do you call it that?"

"Read for now," he replied, "We can speak more later." He started walking towards the doorway, then paused and looked back at Daxon. For a moment it looked as if he would say something else, but instead he turned and walked out the door.

Dax looked back down at the journal in his hands. He sat down on the stack of burlap sacks with his back against the cavern wall and read the next passage:

Janaury 15, 2010

I have never kept a journal before and I find that I'm not yet used to the habit. I forget to write in here more often than not. It's been almost a week since the last time.

I've been able to stay at the waterfall and as of yet I haven't seen another person. I'm sure this land belongs to someone, but like most properties around here, they are mostly mountainous and rugged and I doubt the owner has explored all of it. I doubt if the owner did find me here anything would happen other than they would ask me to leave, but I grow weary of civilization if you can even call it that anymore. I haven't seen a newspaper in over a week now, but I prefer that. It's not that I'm unsympathetic to the plights of others, but I couldn't stop it from happening to myself, much less anyone else.

It's funny to me now, back in Kentucky, the state I wanted so badly to get out of when I was younger, away from my family, the father who insisted on teaching me how to hunt, set snares, fish, and basic survival skills. Away from my mother, that hard woman who insisted I also learn to cook, clean, iron, mend clothes, and sew. Both dead now and it's crazy how much I miss them and ironic that it's the skills they taught me that are now keeping me alive and not anything I learned in college.

I wish I could thank them. I wish I could go back to the past and change the way I treated them, the scorn and anger, the determination that I was better than they were and I would amount to so much more, that I would never be content to live in some little podunk town in nowhere, Kentucky. Since I can't change the past, I will say it here, what I should have said then; I love you Mom and Dad. Thank you for all you taught me, and all you tried to teach me that I refused to learn.

Dax felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment. He shuffled through the next few pages, skimming over them. Most were filled with more memories and regrets or passages of what was in the snares and traps the writer had set. He was beginning to wonder the purpose behind Borl wanting him to read this when another passage caught his eye:

_May 20_ th _, 2010_

Hard to believe I have been here for four months. I thought for sure the game would become scarce and the fish be gone by now, but it seems as plentiful as it did when I first got here. And, that's not the only strange thing I've noticed. I went exploring yesterday evening, further from my cave than I normally go, when I heard people talking. I hid behind the trunk of a pine tree and was just going to slip away back to the waterfall when I realized how badly I wanted to hear what they were saying. I wanted to hear words, people talking, a language I recognized coming from someone else's lips. I must be lonelier than I thought.

Anyway, they were speaking of tracking a stag through the woods. It was starting to get dark and they wanted to find it before night fell and they lost the track. When they mentioned the deer, I looked around to see if I could see any sign of it. Then men were carrying bows (of course, it's not deer season and they wouldn't want to get caught poaching) when I looked to the left of where I hid listening to them I saw a small drop of blood on a leaf and, following it, I saw the stag lying not more than twenty feet from where I hid and surely no more than ten feet from the hunters. I watched them scan the ground and one even looked directly at the stag's hiding place, which was nothing more than a scruffy bush and tall grass, without seeing it. Finally, one of the hunters took a step toward it, but immediately stepped back, a look of unease passing across his face. I heard him mumble something to his partner, and then they both walked off away from the deer, still scanning the ground looking for signs of its passing.

I couldn't believe my luck! I walked over to the stag, but as I approached I saw that it was still alive. It had an arrow sticking out of its flank and it had lost a lot of blood. It struggled to its feet and bounded off toward the waterfall. That was fine with me, I was going that way too, and I knew it wouldn't be too much longer before it became too weak to continue and would have to stop and rest again. I hurried back to my cave thinking of eating something other than fish or rodent (which I consider rabbits and squirrels).

I followed the stag's tracks and couldn't believe my continued luck when it seemed to be heading directly for my cave. I stepped out of the woods into the small clearing in front of the cave hidden by the waterfall and saw the stag drinking deeply from the small pool at the bottom of the falls. It raised its head and looked at me calmly, watching me approach. It didn't seem frightened at all, which I thought was a good thing since I didn't have any weapons that I could use to bring a full grown deer down with, but I did have a knife I could finish the stag off with and use to skin it.

When I got within ten feet or so of the deer it occurred to me the deer should have tried to run off, but I assumed it didn't because it was injured. This was not the case. The deer was no longer injured, and as crazy as it sounds, I could have sworn it spoke to me. Not exactly in words, but it clearly communicated a feeling of excitement and vitality at me before launching itself over my head, implementing a series of skipping leaps (I think it was showing off) and disappearing into the forest.

I almost convinced myself it wasn't the same deer, but it had to have been. The trail led directly to where I saw the stag drinking. That can only mean he was healed after drinking from the pond. I need to investigate this further.

Dax looked up at the dragon globe still hovering above its little island just as another spark fell and hit the water, once again sending out prismatic ripples in the water. He looked back down at the journal in his hands before it reached him and saw the words start to blur and break apart into exotically foreign designs. Then the spark reached his feet and shot up through him again, making the words once again come into focus and make sense.

Understanding now what Borl had been talking about, Dax skimmed over the next few passages. Evidently the writer came to believe the small pool and waterfall had some sort of magical properties. She became determined to find out where the water came from and started searching for its source. After many fruitless searches and countless theories, she tried a new idea and jumped into the pool.

_July 4_ th _, 2010_

I gave up searching for the source of the small pool of water. I followed the small stream about a mile back into the forest where it joined a larger stream. From there it branched out into about five or six different small streams, each going its own way. This one was just one of the six.

However, I did decide to soak in the small pool upon my return. It's so hot I could think of little else but rinsing the sweat from my body. I undressed and splashed into the pool and to my surprise; I walked right off a small underwater cliff into water well over my head. Fortunately I'm a good swimmer. It was already getting dark by the time I realized the pool was actually much deeper than I had originally thought, and definitely deeper than it looks from the shore. The water felt wonderful, cool and refreshing, and by the time I got out I felt rejuvenated. My back and feet no longer hurt, and even small, minor aches I hadn't even noticed until they were no longer there, were gone.

Right before the sun dropped behind the western mountains, I thought I saw a small underwater cavern. I may try to explore it tomorrow although I'm a little hesitant to run into anything underwater that may live in the little cave, but so far I've not seen anything except fish, snails, and crawdads in the water.

Dax continued skimming through the journal entries quickly, a sense of urgency driving him to turn the pages as quickly as possible without missing anything important. The writer of the journal did find the courage to explore the underwater cavern, but it took at least four or five trips it seemed to Dax for them to finally discover that it led back under the mountain with small pockets of air where they could surface to breathe. The writer would take something called a water-proof 'flashlight' and swim as far as they thought they could while still having enough air to return. If, during that time, they found a pocket of air, they would stop, catch their breath, and repeat the process. In this way they made their slow, but dedicated way further and further under the mountain until they reached a large underground river. At this point, Dax slowed and read exactly what was written:

_September 15_ th _, 2010_

It has taken me months to reach this destination, wherever it is. Words simply can't do it justice. I would never have thought there would be such a beautiful place under the mountains.

After following the underground tunnel for what seemed like forever, I finally emerged into a huge underground cavern right in the heart of the mountain itself. It's almost like the mountain is actually hollow although I can't see how that could be true. But, I digress...

The water pools here in this very spot, but it's not the freezing dark water that I've been traversing for the past eternity. Instead, it's warm to the touch and ruby red in color, a rich, deep, vibrant ruby red that I have never before seen or even imagined possible. If there really is such a thing as the blood of the mountain then this must surely be it. There is an entire lake of this water and within its depths I can see the most alien creatures swimming, some of them intimidating enough that I do not venture far from the shore.

The water is not the only thing that is wondrous here. Above the water it looks like there is an open sky full of countless stars, only instead of small white or yellow pinpricks of light, the stars that fly in this sky are blue, purple, and crimson in color. I have no idea what it can be, I know for a fact I am underneath the mountain and there is no way that is the sky I'm seeing, but it is truly beautiful.

I need to rest. During my trip the water within the tunnel kept me rejuvenated, but now that I'm not within its grasp I am very tired and cold, although still not sore. I noticed a shallow cave carved into the side of the wall when I entered this huge cavern. I think I will retreat to it until I know what else calls this place home and get some rest.

Dax looked around the cavern he was currently standing in and wondered if it was the same cavern the author of the journal had written about. It seemed unlikely, the water here, although clear, was not the vibrant red described in the journal passage.

Not knowing how much longer he would be able to read the journal, Dax looked back down and flipped the page but just as he did the writing started to blur and rearrange itself into unknown symbols. Frustrated, he replaced the book back in the box from which Borl had taken it and closed the lid. The book hadn't answered any of the questions he had asked, if anything, it made him think of a few more questions he would like to ask.

He started replacing the burlap sacks over the chest and removed the torch from the bracket. He took one last long look at the swirling globe, sighing at the thought of returning to the world above that now seemed so drab and its colors shabby and faded. Finally, he turned and started toward the exit.

Just as he reached the doorway he suddenly felt as though he were not alone in the cavern anymore. He glanced over his shoulder, slowly turning and taking in every visible nook. He walked back into the room and along the shore of the water's edge, shining the torch's light onto everything it could reach. He didn't see anything. Still, he was sure he was no longer alone, and in fact, was sure he had not been alone the entire time. It seemed as though whatever was in the room with him had suddenly wanted him to know it was there whereas before it did not.

Letting his eyes skim briefly over the walls, water, and ceiling of the cavern once more, and still not finding anything, Dax turned once again to leave and nearly ran into the strangest looking (dragon?) creature he had ever seen.

It was a little over four feet tall at its shoulder, but its neck was long and sinuous, with a small, somewhat delicate head perched on top that resembled a dragon's head. Brilliant purple scales covered its body from head to tail, which was also long and tipped with dagger length spikes of blackest onyx. The eyes regarding Daxon seemed made of amethyst fire and lacked any discernible pupil. More curious than afraid, Daxon blurted out, "What are you?"

For the tiniest fraction of a second Dax was sure he saw a small spark of fiery red appear in the amethyst eyes before the creature dipped its head in a ridiculous rendition of a bow. _I am a dragon, of course,_ it said, _just not the same kind you are used to seeing above-ground. I am called Riiele and this is my cavern._

Chapter 4

I had crossed the line. I was free; but there was no one to welcome me to the land of freedom. I was a stranger in a strange land.

~Harriet Tubman

Riiele

"Your cavern?" Daxon asked, confused. _Yes, sometimes. It is where I live right now and where I have lived off and on for many, many years..._ The voice trailed off, leaving Dax wondering how many years this strange dragon had been right below his home without anyone knowing. Not that the dragon seemed exactly dangerous, but it did seem to give off a volatile vibe. He didn't feel particularly threatened by Riiele, he had been around dragons for as long as he could remember, and dragons that were much larger than the one he was currently standing before, but he was sure there was more to this dragon than was immediately apparent, and he was positive without exactly knowing why that the dragon was far from helpless despite its small size.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Riiele," Dax said after minutes passed without the dragon speaking or even moving. He started walking towards the exit once again, thinking of all the questions he wanted to ask Borl and Sikir. He hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when he had to pull up short to avoid running into the purple dwarf dragon that was once more standing in front of him, unmoving. _You read the book. The other man, he came to read the book many years ago. The woman brought him. They think they know a great truth, I heard them speaking of it. But they know only a partial truth and a small part of a large story._

"You read the book?" Dax asked, feeling stupid as soon as the question left his mouth. The dragon didn't have hands so he was sure turning pages in the book would have presented a problem. Almost as if reading his mind, Riiele stared at him for a moment with what Dax assumed was a bemused expression even though it was hard to tell on a dragon's face, especially a dragon that didn't really have any pupils. _No, I haven't read the book. I was here when the woman read it, and I was here when she brought the man to read it. I heard them speaking of what was in it._ He looked across the water at the swirling globe. _Besides, I have little need to read the book. I was present for most of what is contained therein, although I, too, have no idea what a 'January' or a 'Kentucky' is._

"You met the person who wrote that?" Dax asked, gesturing toward the book now safely put away in the chest under the burlap sacks. _Yes,_ he said, his eyes darkening to a blue flame. _I met her. She arrived from a small tunnel on the other side of this cavern across the water. I watched her emerge and look around with the most interesting expression on her face, like she had never seen a cavern before. I could tell she was tired and she looked half starved. She huddled in a small little niche and slept almost a full glow cycle._

"Glow cycle?" Dax asked.

Yes, a glow cycle. Down here we don't measure time in relation to the sun. If you were to look closely at the walls and ceiling of this cavern you would see a light green film of algae coating them. Once it gets thick enough the glow worm pupae will emerge from the water and feed on these algae. You can track their progress, as well as their growth, by this. When they emerge they are tiny and glow a very faint yellow color. As they eat, they grow rapidly, and will then turn a brighter yellow, orange, red, crimson, and so on, until they make their way up the cavern wall, across the ceiling, and down the other side. When they finally reach the other side, they will be bright green and will slip back into the water to lay more eggs. Then the cycle will repeat itself. One glow cycle is the time it takes the baby glow worms to change from one color to the next.

Dax filed this information away for later use, already wondering exactly how long the entire transformation from pupae to glow worm took and making plans to measure it in days, hours, and minutes in the near future. He glanced around the cavern, briefly noting the glow worms were currently right above the water on the ceiling and were a vivid rose color.

_Anyway,_ Riiele continued, _I found the human interesting as I said before, and while she slept, I went and picked her some dragon fruits from the surface and left them lying beside her little cave. When she awoke, she ate the fruit, and then she looked around trying to find her benefactor. I remained hidden from her for several more days, bringing her food at least once a day, but she had a different smell to her than the few humans I had encountered before, so I took my time and studied her. After a few days I realized it wasn't really her smell that was so different, but the smell she brought with her, in her hair and the strange clothes she wore. It smelled of... otherness._

Finally, I decided to take the form of a human and approach her. She was suspicious of me, but eventually I won her over and befriended her. We spent many marvelous nights together, exploring and learning about each other. After two generations of glow worms had come and gone, I made ready to leave to other mountain ranges, and that is when things went horribly wrong.

"Wait, hold on a second, you can transform into a human?" Dax asked. _Yes_ , Riiele said, _I am very unlike the dragons on the surface. When my ancestors left the sunlight behind they became almost a part of the earth itself. The mountains share their strength with us. The stones speak to us of hidden minerals and jewels. Time has very little meaning to any dragon, but we are, perhaps, the longest lived of even our kind. All things return to the earth, and from the earth we have gained the ability to shape-shift into almost anything we have seen or the earth remembers._

Dax pondered his answer for a moment before asking, "So why didn't you approach me as a human?"

You are not a human. You are as much a part of Daegonlot as I am and, besides, you have been around dragons for as long as you can remember. You would not be unduly afraid. The girl, however, I somehow knew she had never seen a dragon, and the earth whispered to me that she didn't believe in any sort of magic. And, what are dragons if not magic embodied?

Dax nodded to show he both understood and for him to continue his story. Riiele continued, his eyes once again changing colors, this time to an agitated orange color. _The day I made ready to leave I did not go to see the human girl. The trip would be long so I wanted to rest up and not spend energy on maintaining my human guise. She was distraught. First she waited patiently for me at our usual meeting spot by the shore of the lake. When I didn't show she started yelling my name and looking for me. It was impossible to sleep, so I finally slipped back into my human disguise and went to her. I was irritated that she had been so noisy and upset. She tried to tell me she was 'in love' with me, but I didn't understand what she meant._

I tried to explain to her that I was a dragon and we did not mate as humans do, for long periods of time or for life. That would be silly. Dragons live exceptionally long lives, and as I mentioned before, none so long as my kind. I was kind to her, I helped her, I spent time with her and she interested me, but I was moving on to other places she could not follow. I thought she understood. She sat there, gently rocking back and forth and nodding as I spoke to her. Right before I stood to leave she asked me one question: "Is there a way to the surface?"

_I carved a way to the surface through the rock and went back to get her. I showed her the way out. Never once was I in any form except for human when I interacted with her. And now that I think of it, she never really told me a lot about the place she came from, no matter how many times I asked. After showing her the way to the surface, I left her and traveled on to other places within the earth. For years, I didn't even think of her._ Once again he glanced across the water at the swirling orb on its little island. _And then that happened,_ he said, still staring at the globe.

"The globe?" Dax asked. "Do you know what it is?" Riiele looked back at him, his eyes dimming to a muted amethyst once again. _Not exactly, no. I have my suspicions, but I don't know for sure. That is why I spoke with you. The human girl, the one who wrote that journal, the one I met so many years ago, she is the one known as Jessa Dragonheart. Whatever she did so many years ago after we parted company is an abomination of nature. When I returned to this cavern again, centuries after meeting her here and watching her emerge, I found this globe. I have studied it as much as I can for I dare not get too close to it. It is an evil thing, a thing that should never have been able to exist, and yet it does. You, Child of the Myste, you must find out how to set this right. You must find out how to destroy the Dragon Globe._

"Me?" Dax said. "What makes you think I could do that? I don't know anything about the globe. Why can't you go out there and... I don't know, blast it or something?" And almost as an afterthought, "And why did you call me child of the mist?"

Riiele studied him intently, his eyes whirling through a host of different colors. _You don't know of the Myste?_ Before Daxon could even answer, he went on, _Nevermind, I don't have much more time. I can feel that thing pulling at me the longer I stay here and I can almost_ feel _it summoning her. Go, child, find the Myste. Find_ her _and a way to undo what has been done. Only then can Daegonlot become whole again._

"Where should I star...?" he asked, but there was no one there. Riiele had just disappeared. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he caught a slight movement, and when he turned his head that way he was shocked to see a flaming eye _inside the stone_ of the cavern wall wink at him, then it, too, was gone. He waited a few minutes to see if he would see anything else or if Riiele had anything more to say, but time stretched out and there were no more glowing eyes in the stone wall and the dragon did not reappear.

Daxon slowly made his way back through the cavern and up the winding staircase, pondering everything he had read in the journal and heard from Riiele. If the dragon were to be believed, then the person who wrote that journal was Jessa Dragonheart, before she had been known by that name. It seemed as if she came from another world through some sort of hidden tunnel and ended up here, on Daegonlot. But if that were true, how did she end up becoming the hero of the dragonriders? Dax didn't know the answer to that question, but he was reasonably sure it had something to do with the globe of swirling colors. He wasn't convinced the globe should be destroyed, he didn't even know what the globe did after all, but he did want to find out more about it.

Just before he reached the top of the staircase he remembered something else the dragon said that bothered him. He had told Dax to find _her_ and undo what had been done. Who exactly was he talking about? Surely not Jessa Dragonheart. According to the legends she had lived over six hundred years ago. No one lived that long, not even the dwarves or elves, and surely not any humans.

Shaking his head Dax closed up the secret staircase and pushed the barrel back into place with an effort, then went off in search of Borl and Sikir.

Chapter 5

The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.

~Michelangelo

Danger

Dax found Borl sitting in front of the hearth gazing at the fire burning brightly within. He cleared his throat politely to alert Borl to the fact he was there. Borl slowly turned his head and met Dax's gaze briefly before returning his gaze to the fire. "Did you learn anything while you were down there, boy?" he asked softly.

"I'm not sure," Dax answered honestly. "I think I left with more questions than answers if the truth were to be known. First and foremost, I suppose, what is the Myste?" Borl whipped his head around and looked hard at Dax. "The Myste? Was there something in the journals about that?"

"Uh, yeah," Dax stammered, quickly deciding against telling Borl about Riiele. He wasn't sure why he was reluctant to tell the older man about the strange dragon, but for now he decided he would keep the dragon's presence a secret. "I was skimming over some of the passages so I could read as much as possible before the spark ran out and saw something about it. It was pretty vague though, and it was around that passage the spark started wearing off and it reverted back to gibberish."

"The Myste," Borl said, barely above a whisper. "It's always been here."

"It's always been here? On Daegonlot? Why have I never seen it?" Dax asked.

"No, no," Borl said, "Not on Daegonlot, but below. It surrounds the entire land of Darkenfel, all along the borders. Once, when I was younger, I decided to see what lay to the far north of the lands I knew. I had never been off of Daegonlot at the time, and Bruul and I were still in training, but off we went anyway right after sunrise.

As you know, Daegonlot actually floats off of the mainland, not very far though, not really. On dragon back you can fly from here straight down to the mainland in a quarter of an hour, so I would say it's not more than a couple leagues separated. It seems further. I'm sure like most of us you have gone to the edge of the island and looked down. All you can see is cloud cover most of the time, but occasionally you will see the land below. What you can't see is the huge lake that resides directly below the island, and I'll tell you true, it's the exact same shape as the island. Almost like it's a missing piece in a huge puzzle.

That was the first thing I noticed, in fact, that day as we left Daegonlot behind to see what else there was to see. We flew until late in the afternoon when we reached a dense forest. We flew over it for what seemed like hours when Bruul noticed the fog rolling in. At first it was just that, a light fog that seemed a little strange, but the forest was dense and I figured it was probably just rolling off a river hidden within all those trees. As more time passed it grew denser and I had pretty much dismissed the idea of a river fog. A little further and you couldn't even see the forest anymore. It was the eeriest feeling I've ever had in my life, and I will never forget it. One minute we were flying over a dense forest, and the next it was like we were the only creatures in the world flying over a bottomless gray abyss."

Borl shivered at the memory. "Anyway, we decided it would be best to turn around and go back to Daegonlot, we had been gone a long time and we knew we were going to be in trouble. At least, that's what we told ourselves. The truth is that we were afraid, or at least I was. I don't know about Bruul. That was the other weird thing about the fog, the further in it we flew the more disconnected from Bruul I felt. I did get him to turn around and start heading back towards Daegonlot before the fog became so complete I couldn't see the sun anymore. As we turned and started back, I took one last glimpse over my shoulder and saw..."

Dax sat there on the edge of his seat waiting for Borl to tell what he had seen. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity had passed, he whispered, "Saw what?"

He shook his head. "I don't even know Dax, to this day; I don't even know what it was I saw that day. It was partially obscured by what I now know was the Myste, but it seemed massive, possibly even larger than that hatchling's mother, and she's by far the largest dragon, the largest _being_ I've ever seen in my life. But for just an instant I saw a clawed limb and a glowing green eye before I blinked and there was nothing more than Myste."

"So what is it then? Fog?" he asked.

"That I don't know. I've heard tales, but if you really want to know more about it you should probably ask the elves. I don't think it's 'just fog' as you say, and from my one glimpse of it I would say whatever it is there are definitely things that live within it, but I don't know what it is or what it does." Borl rose to his feet and placed his hands on Dax's shoulders and looked intently into his eyes. "Did you find out any information on the orb down there?"

"No, not really," Dax said, "there wasn't anything in the journal about it. I had to skim over parts of it, but the journal mostly tells of a journey through a mountain, at least that's as far as I was able to get before the spark ran out. Why do you ask?"

Borl dropped his hands from Dax's shoulders and sighed loudly. "I have suspicions about the orb, Dax. It's wondrous to behold, but something about it feels wrong. I spoke about it to Sikir, but..." he trailed off and left the sentenced unfinished. "The truth I spoke of, Dax, before you went down there, the orb reveals certain truths about whoever is in the cavern if you can decipher it. Many years ago, Sikir took me down to that cavern and showed me the journal. I was able to read some of it, but it wasn't the same part you have read. One day I may tell you the story I read, but the point I'm trying to make is it seems the journal will only reveal parts of itself at a time or to a certain person. I have gone down to that cavern many times since and it will let me re-read the passages I read before, but if I try to read anything else the spark never comes."

"You mean if I went back down there it would only let me read the passages I've already read? I'll never be able to read the rest?" Dax asked, remembering the way the words rearranged themselves into nothing more than unreadable symbols.

"I'm saying that's how it has been for me. I don't know if it would be that way for you. Or if it was that way for Sikir."

"Sikir? You think she has read more of it?"

"I don't know. I've never actually seen Sikir read the journal, but she has told me many things she says she has read within it over the years."

Dax looked warily at Borl. "You don't believe her." He stated this as fact, not a question.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Dax. One night, maybe just six months or so into our marriage, Sikir and I were lying before the hearth talking and...stuff. Anyway, I remember we were talking about the day our dragons chose us, and I told her it still amazed me that something so magnificent and powerful would choose to bond itself with a human or elf. Sikir was half asleep I think, but she said something like 'They probably wouldn't if not for Jessa and the Dragon Orb'. I wasn't sure I had heard her correctly, so I asked her to repeat it, but she was already asleep. I forgot about it by the next morning, but the day she came and took me into the hidden cavern I remembered what she had said, and to this day I don't think she remembers telling me."

"And you think that's what that orb is, the Dragon Orb she spoke of while half asleep," Dax said, making the connections in his mind.

"Yes, son, I do," he said, "and I'll tell you something else I think. I think Sikir sees our bond-mates bonding to something else and if she's feeling the same thing I am, she knows this new bond has a very real chance of becoming stronger than anything we have with our dragons."

"Drakthira," Dax whispered. "Yes," Borl said, "Whatever that Orb does, I don't think Drakthira is under its effects, or any wild dragon for that matter. However, the longer she stays here, the more chance she has of succumbing to it. I also think that is why she feels no compulsion to bond with a human, elf, or dwarf and has instead bonded with her own kind."

Dax pondered that briefly then stated, "I need to get Drakthira off Daegonlot, and quickly."

Chapter 6

Leaving home in a sense involves a kind of second birth in which we give birth to ourselves.

~Robert Neelly Bellah

Departure

The chance to get off Daegonlot still had not arrived even half a year later. Drakthira still hadn't officially 'chosen' a rider, but she had chosen him to train with since all the other hatchlings had riders. They had become comfortable in each other's company and they worked well together. He had all but forgotten about the dragon orb and Rielle, especially since no harm had come to 'Thira even after months had passed.

Drakthira still stayed with Sasha and Bruul in their large cavern, but Dax wondered how much longer that would last. He could tell 'Thira was beginning to grow restless and wanted to be away and free. Why she had ever decided she wanted to train with the other hatchlings was beyond him, she was much larger, stronger, quicker, and smarter than any of them, and she did not seem to have the same need to bond to a human. For some reason that made Dax fiercely proud of her and, although he would miss her, he was hoping she would one day return to the wild.

He, too, had matured over the last half a year and no longer wiled away his time wishing to be a dragon rider. He understood his chance for that had long since passed him by, and now he was also thinking of leaving Daegonlot. For the past few months it had seemed like something was calling to him, faint and very far away, but forcefully, too. He hadn't broached the subject to Borl or Sikir as of yet, but he knew he could not put it off much longer. _Maybe I will tell them today after training,_ he thought to himself as he entered the training grounds and looked around for Drakthira.

She was easy to spot as she was easily the largest hatchling on the grounds. Already almost the size of Sasha, 'Thira had almost doubled in size since she had first hatched. As he watched she yawned hugely, showing large fangs the size of his hand, and stretched her wings out wide. Like the other hatchlings, 'Thira had already learned how to fly, and she was the only hatchling that could hunt for herself, mostly thanks to Sasha and Bruul's tutelage.

Sure she hadn't seen him yet, Daxon moved quickly down the side of the sparring arena and around the corner to come up behind 'Thira. Moving as quickly as he was able while making barely a sound, he rushed up at her from behind and launched himself at her head, reaching out to grasp the horns curving delicately over her head. At the last moment she turned her head slightly, but enough so he missed the horns and sailed over her to land in a heap on the ground.

Grumbling, he picked himself up and dusted the grass and dirt from his clothes. "One day I will get you," he said to her, hearing her grating chuckle at his discomfiture. He chuckled to himself and brushed himself off.

They walked to the large, circular arena after Dax grabbed a short training sword from the rack. The other students were filing in with their dragons as well, and soon everyone was present. The students and dragons gathered loosely and chatted with each other while they waited for the instructor. Obrin and Roila ran the school together with their dragons, teaching the new hatchlings and riders how to work together as a team in all things from combat, both ground and aerial, to menial tasks like patrols, hunting, or even excavation.

Although Daxon knew he wasn't really a real dragonrider, he enjoyed the classes immensely, and loved the time he got to spend with 'Thira. The other riders in the classes knew that he and 'Thira were not bonded, and some had complained to their parents, who in turn complained to Obrin about Dax being in the class. Obrin, however, was very stern on the subject, and heartily defended Dax being in the class. To the complaining parents he heavily implied they could teach their dragonrider themselves if they did not like the way he ran his school.

Dax was grateful to Obrin and Roila for standing up for him and 'Thira, but it did not go without some problems. Most of the students did not mind him being in the class, but the few that did made it well known as soon as Obrin or Roila was not around, or when they thought they could get away with it. Lyel's son, Leon, was the main instigator and he never passed up a chance to make Dax look like a fool. His bondmate, Relik, was the largest dragon in the class other than 'Thira.

"Well, look who it is, the Dragonless Dragonrider," Leon said as soon as he spotted Dax entering the arena. Daxon ignored him and kept walking. Unperturbed, Leon followed him, continuing to call out witticisms like "Lizardless Land King" and "Dragon Repellent." Dax smiled to himself, "lizardless land king" was new and slightly amusing, and he figured Leon must have stayed up all night thinking that one up.

Both boys fell into line when Roila strolled to the center of the arena. "Suit up!" she yelled, "Today we will be practicing evasive aerial maneuvers. You will not need any weapons. Everyone be ready in five! Obrin and I will give a demonstration, and then you will all pair up to practice."

Dax went and retrieved the riding harness from his and 'Thira's little storage closet. Most of the riders and hatchlings used the school harnesses for the arena, however, none of them would fit 'Thira, so Daxon had asked Borl if he could have one of his old ones, which he then modified. Grabbing it, he walked over to 'Thira and started strapping it into place quickly and efficiently.

_Why does the human child taunt you?_ Drakthira asked him. "Because I'm not really bonded to a dragon like the rest of them," he answered, no shame in his voice, "and yet I've still got the best dragon partner around. He's just jealous." He grinned up at her and playfully rubbed the scales over her eye ridges. She purred loudly and bumped her head into his chest, almost knocking him down. He laughed, then vaulted into the harness saddle and they started across the arena to where Roila and Obrin were standing.

"Ok, listen up!" Obrin yelled above the students, effectively drowning out all conversations and bringing them to an abrupt end. "It's very unlikely you will ever encounter anything in the air that could in any way bring danger to you or your dragon. However, it's not impossible. We won't be spending a lot of time on this, just a few days, but everyone should know at least the basics of evasive maneuvers. Your dragons are hatchlings right now, and seldom do the wild dragons ever attack or come near a dragonrider, but it has happened. Riders have gotten too close to wild dragon nests and been chased off before, and the best way of handling it is with evasive maneuvers. We don't ever, and I repeat, _ever,_ want to fight our dragons against wild dragons. To that end, the best thing to do is avoid the confrontation completely, and evade the wild dragon until it stops chasing you."

Dax looked around at the other students. All looked a little uneasy at the thought of having a wild dragon chasing them through the air. The tame dragons of Goldspine were formidable foes, but to Dax, they seemed to have lost something in the transition from being wild. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but they didn't seem as large, or as colorful, or as ferocious as their wild counterparts. Instead they seemed duller, more nervous, and less independent. It was hard to imagine any of the Goldspine dragons ever being wild, except for 'Thira, of course.

There was simply no comparison between Drakthira and the other hatchlings. She still had the ferocious gleam in her eye the others lacked. She was more colorful, more alert, and just overall more alive than any of the others. She learned things quickly after being shown just once while the others usually had to be shown at least two or three times. When given an instruction she would perform flawlessly the first time, and didn't need to look to Dax for approval. Compared to her, the other hatchlings seemed to be in a fog and looked at their riders for approval on almost everything.

The most disconcerting thing about it was Dax seemed to be the only one who was aware of the differences. When the Goldspine hatchlings looked to their riders for approval it was normal to everyone. Only Daxon seemed to notice that 'Thira did not do that, or maybe the others simply thought it was because they were not truly a bonded pair. If that was the only difference, Dax was glad he never bonded with a dragon. Before 'Thira he would not have thought that way, but now that he had seen how a dragon not born of Goldspine acted, thought, and learned, he knew there must be something wrong with the tame dragons.

"Now we will practice. Everyone needs to pair up with a comparable dragon and rider at first. We will switch things up more tomorrow, but for now it's just the basics. Dax, you and 'Thira will be with Leon and Relik." Dax realized he hadn't paid any attention at all to what they had said, and if they had given a demonstration, he must have missed it. All he knew was he was partnered with Leon which made him groan inwardly.

_Don't worry little elf-Dax, I paid attention to what you were saying and what we are supposed to be doing. As for Relik, he is only comparable to me in size. This will be easy._ Dax grinned at 'Thira's enthusiasm, although he was a little bothered by her announcement. He hadn't realized she was able to hear his thoughts, and he didn't think he had been projecting anything.

Before he had time to ponder this further, 'Thira launched herself into the air and started making a slow circle above the arena, first in a tight circle, then in a larger circle. She didn't seem to be concerned, so Dax relaxed and left it up to her.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye Dax saw Leon and Relik streaking towards them. Slightly alarmed, but taking comfort in the fact that 'Thira didn't seem bothered, Dax watched them come. At the last moment, right before he thought they were going to collide in mid-air, 'Thira banked sharply to the side allowing Relik and Leon to streak past her.

Dax chuckled quietly to himself as he saw Leon's face grow red with anger and embarrassment, but outwardly he gave no sign. 'Thira started spiraling down to the arena, their test over, when a loud roaring bugle shattered the peaceful morning. Looking back over his shoulder, Dax saw a fiery red and yellow wild dragon going after Relik who was also returning to the arena. He had flown out over the surrounding forest before turning back to the arena and evidently had gotten too close to the wild dragon's nesting place.

Cursing under his breath, Dax watched as Relik flew for all he was worth, trying to outdistance the wild dragon. The large hatchling was losing, the mature red quickly overtaking him with sheer power and speed. The lesson forgotten, Relik and Leon were making a straight shot for the arena. Daxon touched his mind with 'Thira's, who accepted the intrusion long enough for him to communicate to her what he had in mind. Snorting assent, she turned and streaked toward Relik and the wild red. There were only a few meters separating the two, but it was enough for Drakthira to shoot through, distracting the wild dragon long enough to give Leon and Relik a chance to get away.

Roaring, the red turned his eyes on 'Thira, his anger apparent. Urging her away from the arena and the rest of the students, Dax and 'Thira shot towards the forest, flying low over the trees. The red showed no signs of letting up and Dax knew they couldn't keep going indefinitely. 'Thira, although almost as large as the wild red, was still a hatchling and wouldn't be able to keep up the pace much longer. It took years of flying for a dragon to properly build their wing muscles for long distance flights, and 'Thira had only been flying for a few short months.

Desperate, Dax saw the edge of Daegonlot in the distance and made his decision. Once again touching minds with 'Thira, he showed her what he thought they should do. Snorting agreement, and too tired to argue, she renewed her efforts, zig-zagging towards the edge of the only home either of them had ever known, then dropped over, falling more than flying, leaving Daegonlot and everything they ever knew behind them.

Chapter 7

I don't have a fear of flying; I have a fear of crashing.

~Billy Bob Thornton

Crash Landing

Drakthira landed hard on her left side, barely keeping enough wits about her to curl around Dax so his frail elf body wouldn't be squashed beneath her or broken in the fall. Her wings and lungs burned from exertion and she was too tired to do much more. She finally rolled to a stop at the foot of the small mountain she had tried, unsuccessfully, to land on. They were in a small clearing surrounded by evergreen trees, the smell of pine needles slowly bringing her to her senses.

Getting shakily to her feet, she looked down to see Dax sitting up and holding his head while letting out a long groan. Seeing he was alright, she turned her attention to herself. Nothing seemed to be broken other than a few scales on her left side that were missing. She wasn't worried about that; she knew they would grow back good as new in a few short days. One claw on her left foot was broken and she ached all over, but the most serious injury she found when she stretched out her left wing. The wing muscles ached terribly, but she held it aloft long enough for her to see the long, jagged tear in the membrane of her wing. It didn't hit any of the muscles or tendons, but it was large enough that it effectively grounded her. If she tried to fly with it she knew it would let too much air through and she would only be able to glide in circles.

Daxon also saw the tear in her wing and instantly stopped groaning about his aching head and reached for his small backpack. All students were required to keep a pack of first aid supplies and a few days' worth of food at all times during training, and at this moment he was thanking Obrin and Roila for their forethought. He didn't immediately find the pack strapped to his back, but after looking around he found it about ten feet away hanging on a prickly bush.

He went and retrieved it and rummaged around inside until he found the large dragon needle and thick thread used to sew up dragon wings. Dragons were very well armored with their nearly impenetrable scales, so riders carried the needle and thread only for injuries to wing membranes since the needle wouldn't stand a chance of going through the scales.

Dax quickly threaded the needle. "I'm going to have to sew that up, 'Thira," he said, advancing towards her. She was lying down and barely blinked to show him she understood. He knelt beside her and gently took the ragged ends of the membrane in his fingers, holding them together to make sure a chunk hadn't been torn out. That would take much longer to regenerate and heal. They were in luck, however, and Dax didn't see any missing pieces, so he quickly sewed her up, and then rubbed some healing ointment over it. He didn't have anything large enough to bandage it up with, but he thought the ointment and stitches would be good enough as long as he kept it clean.

Finished, he wiped the blood from his hands with a small rag and looked around to take stock of their situation. Drakthira was snoring softly and he left her to her rest knowing she would need it. He was pretty sure the wild red hadn't followed them down off Daegonlot, but he didn't want to start a fire to draw attention in case he was wrong. Besides, he had never been off Daegonlot, and other than knowing the people who inhabited this part of Darkenfel probably hadn't seen a dragon in over one hundred years, he didn't know much about their surroundings.

When the land split more than a century before and Daegonlot ascended into the sky, it effectively cut off the people on the ground from being able to reach it. This suited the dragons fine since people were always blaming them every time a sheep or a cow turned up missing. Over time the people forgot about the dragons and the riders, and the dragonriders did nothing to change that. Even all these years later, the riders would still speak of the terrible war that drove the land apart even though only the oldest of them were alive when it happened.

Shaking these thoughts from his head, Dax turned his mind to more pressing matters, like their lack of water. It also bothered him that he had no idea where they were since nothing was ever taught about the land below Daegonlot other than the history of how it was separated. He would have given his boots for a map. He knew they had flown over the western side of Daegonlot, but after that he wasn't sure. Looking up into the sky he didn't see Daegonlot floating above, so he figured they had either flown too far or it was blocked by the mountain; he wasn't sure which.

Afraid to leave 'Thira alone while she slept to go look for water, he walked back to her and lay down by her warm belly. The light was already leaving the sky and there was a slight chill in the air. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was they would find water tomorrow and figure out how to get back to Daegonlot. He was wrong on both counts.

Company

Dax awoke to the sound of someone or something rifling through his pack. He cautiously opened one eye and saw a large dog that looked to have his head stuck in his pack and was trying to shake it off. From what he could see of the dog, it was silvery gray in color, with rusty red markings on the insides of all four legs and on its chest. Instead of a tail, it had a short little stub no longer than his finger, which at the moment was wagging uncontrollably.

As he watched, the dog finally managed to get the pack off its head, although the arm strap was still around its neck. The dog had eyes of the clearest gray with a slight greenish cast to them. The same rusty red coloring on his chest and legs was also evident above his eyes and around his muzzle, which was long and slender. The head was large, but slender, and topped with long, pointy ears.

The most astonishing thing about the dog was not its unusual color, but its sheer size. Dax rubbed his eyes, thinking he must still be asleep, but the dog was still standing there when he opened them again. Moving carefully so as not to frighten or alarm it, Dax got slowly to his feet, pulling his knife cautiously from its scabbard as he did so. The dog stood there, panting, and tilted its head to the side as he watched Daxon.

"It's ok, boy," he said soothingly as he walked towards the donkey-sized beast. "Let me help you get that off your head." He tightened his grip on his knife, not wanting to hurt the beautiful beast, but unwilling to trust it wouldn't bite him when he tried to take the pack from it. Step by cautious step he approached until he was standing only a few feet away. The dog never moved, just simply watched him approach with his clear grey/green eyes, ears pricked in interest, and head tilted slightly to the side in a questioning manner.

Dax slowly reached out to take the pack from around the dog's head. When his hand was a few inches from the strap, the dog abruptly lowered its head, stuck its hind end in the air, the small stub wagging so quickly it looked like the whole back end of the dog was having a small seizure. Unsure of what the dog was doing, but starting to think it was trying to play, Dax made a swipe at the pack strap. Right before his hand made contact with it, the dog deteriorated into a thick grayish green mist. Daxon was so surprised he didn't at first notice the stinging pain shooting up his arm.

Gasping in pain, he brought his arm up against his chest and inspected his hand. It was covered in large, yellow blisters, the skin an angry reddish purple color. As he watched, the blisters started popping. When they popped, they released a small gray/green smoke and a thick yellow substance that burned his skin and started eating into his flesh. The pain was excruciating. Through tear filled eyes Dax watched as all the blisters popped and ate the surrounding flesh until there was nothing left except glinting bone.

Still in shock, Dax looked around for the dog and found him standing no more than five feet in front of him, watching him intently, and head cocked to the side. He took one tentative step towards Dax, and a small whine came from him followed by another step. Daxon, unsure of what the dog had done to him, but at the same time sure it was the dog that had injured his hand, took a step back. He thought quickly about calling out for 'Thira, but dismissed the idea as quickly, not wanting to get her involved in case the dog could also do the same thing to her.

"You should stand still, young man," said a voice behind Dax. He whirled to the side so fast he almost collapsed, keeping his back so he could still see the dog and whoever this newcomer was. "Sylas was only playing; he didn't mean to hurt you. If you stand still I'm sure he will fix it." The owner of the voice turned out to be the oldest man Dax had ever seen. He wore blue robes that hung on his skinny frame and that seemed to only be held in place by the wide, gold belt around his middle. He had a long walking stick that he was leaning on, observing Dax. Despite his apparent old age, he had an ageless looking face free of wrinkles, and eyes that seemed young, yet filled with the wisdom of time.

"Sylas?" Dax said dumbly, looking at the gray dog. "Yes, he's just a big baby. He sometimes forgets how deadly he can be," the old man said, walking towards Daxon. "Just let him see your arm, quickly though, before it's too late." Unsure if he should trust the guy or his deadly baby dog, Dax figured he had little choice. The damage to his hand was already done, and if the dog wanted to finish the job he doubted there was anything he could do to stop it. Slowly, he held his hand, which was now little more than a skeleton, out towards Sylas.

Never taking his eyes off Daxon, the huge beast stretched his muzzle out towards his arm. As Dax watched, the dog's strange eyes began to glow dimly and he started to lick the bones of Dax's hand and forearm. Eyes round in disbelief, Dax watched as new muscle, tissue, and finally skin began to form and knit itself around the bones until, finally, his hand had been fully restored without even a scar to show what had happened.

"Very good, Sylas," said the old man, "you must be more careful when playing." Sylas hung his head a little and looked up at the old man and Dax in what Dax could only assume was an expression of apology. "It's alright, Sylas, all is well that ends well," said the old man as he scratched the massive dog behind his pointy ears.

Remembering 'Thira, Dax turned and saw her still asleep no more than fifty feet from him. "Damn dragon will sleep through anything," he muttered to himself, turning away from the crazy old man and his atomically deadly dog to check 'Thira's wing wound. Before he had even taken five steps, the old man and his donkey dog were standing in front of him. "Is that your dragon, young man?" the old man asked.

"Is that your donkey, old man?" Dax asked sourly, trying to step around the old man and his dog. To his surprise, the old man laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "No, not really," he said, "no one can really own a being such as Sylas, but he does seem to enjoy my company." Not knowing what the old man was talking about and not really caring, Dax continued to ignore him and make his way toward 'Thira. Falling into step beside him, the old man continued, "So, is that your dragon then?"

"No," Dax said shortly. "She doesn't belong to anyone."

"Ah," the old man said, "a wild dragon, then." Dax whirled to face the old man, surprised he would know there was a difference in wild or tame dragons since dragons had not existed in this part of Darkenfel in over a hundred years. But, then again, the guy was old; he could have been older than a hundred years by the looks of him. "How do you know of dragons?" he asked.

The old man absent-mindedly removed the pack strap from around Sylas' head and handed it to Dax. "Oh, I remember dragons," he said. "The world was a much better place in those days, and all of us had our own part to play in Darkenfel..." He trailed off, his eyes misting over with memories of the past. "But," he said, shaking his head and focusing once again on Dax, "that was long ago. I didn't think I would live long enough to see another one. She is beautiful, and young by the looks of her. How did you manage to get off of Daegonlot? Did you fall?"

"How do you know of Daegonlot?" Dax asked cautiously. "Only dragon riders and their descendants live on Daegonlot. We are not welcomed in other parts of Darkenfel. We live longer than normal humans and elves, so we thought by now no one would even remember we still exist."

"And you would be right," the old man said, "but I am not most people. I have been alive many, many long years. I never forgot the dragons, or the riders, or Daegonlot. How could I? It was my home for many years." The old man sounded wistful as he spoke, but Dax couldn't believe his ears. "You lived on Daegonlot? How? And how did you end up here?"

"That is a story for another time," the old man said. "It looks as if your friend is injured. If she will allow, Sylas can probably help her heal quicker. Not sure if he can heal her completely as it was not him that injured her, but he should be able to help."

Dax eyed the dog warily while Sylas looked back at him innocently. "I guess," he said slowly, not wanting to sound rude, "as long as she will allow it."

"Of course," the old man said, "You should never force a dragon to do something it doesn't want to do, or force something on a dragon it doesn't want, don't you agree?" Dax thought that was a weird question coming from the old man, but then, nothing about the old man seemed normal, so he just mumbled an assent and continued on to check on 'Thira. "You may want to wait here while I wake her up," Dax said, "I don't want you to startle her before I get a chance to tell her about you."

Without waiting for a reply, he walked up to Drakthira and kicked her in the snout. Nothing happened. Scowling, and annoyed that she had slept through everything that had happened to him, he kicked her again and at the same time shouted "Wake up!"

'Thira slowly opened one eye, saw Dax scowling at her, and blew a jet of hot air at him that was strong enough to knock him down. Then she promptly closed her eye again and emitted a long, obnoxious snore. Daxon jumped to his feet and pointed a finger at her accusingly, "You are not asleep, 'Thira," he yelled at her. "I almost died not more than fifty feet from you this morning and you just slept through it all," he continued yelling, getting angrier the more he thought about it.

Lazily opening one eye, 'Thira regarded Dax and said, _For someone who almost died, you seem quite lively to me._ Dax stood there fuming for a full minute, knowing it was useless to argue with a stubborn dragon before remembering about the old man and his dog. Grating his teeth and taking a deep breath to regain some composure, he said, "We also have company."

Unlike the story of his 'almost' death, this announcement made 'Thira perk up and look around. Dax waved the man forward. "This is uh..." he said before realizing he didn't even know the old man's name. "Trakon," the old man answered smoothly, executing a small bow to 'Thira, "and this is Sylas." At his words, the dog materialized at his side and, mimicking Trakon, dipped his head amusingly at 'Thira. She lowered her head and sniffed first the old man, who stood patiently, and then Sylas, who stretched out his muzzle to sniff her as well, then tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy.

_You are neither what you appear,_ she finally said.

"True," Trakon said, "but neither do we mean you harm, or your young friend. We would help you if you would but allow. Sylas may be able to help mend your wing." 'Thira regarded them both for a long moment before unfolding her wing and holding it within reach of Sylas. The dog went straight to the wound and began licking the damaged membrane and tissue, its eyes once again glowing dimly. When he was finished the wing was almost completely healed.

Dax inspected the wing closely. "You shouldn't fly for a few days yet to minimize the chance of tearing it open again." He put more ointment on the seam where the wing membranes connected. "But other than that it's pretty much good as new."

'Thira folder her wing to the proper position behind her back and dipped her head in thanks at Sylas, who licked her muzzle enthusiastically.

"Looks like you found a friend," Dax laughed.

When 'Thira had enough licking and Sylas didn't show any signs of stopping, she blew a strong gust of air out of her nostrils and he went rolling away from her, still licking at the air enthusiastically, before disappearing into a wave of mist. Trakon watched it all and laughed uproariously and even Dax couldn't help a small chuckle at the huge dog's antics.

"So what are your plans now," Trakon asked a short while later. "It will be a few days before 'Thira can fly, and even then I'm not sure she's old enough or strong enough to fly both you and her back to Goldspine."

Dax looked at Drakthira, pondering their next move and knowing Trakon spoke the truth. Most of the way down they had glided, and no matter how large 'Thira was, she wasn't a full grown dragon and her wing muscles were still relatively weak. "I don't know," he finally said. "I guess the best we can hope for is a search party, but that's doubtful."

"Well," the old man continued, "You are more than welcome to stay with Sylas and myself until you figure it out. After all, it's been many years since I have been gifted with the company of a dragon and rider, and I must admit I wouldn't mind hearing your tale."

_We accept your offer_ , Drakthira said before Dax could even think of a response. He whirled to look at her and without thinking reached out to speak to her mind to mind. We don't even know them, he said. And I don't trust them, he added when she didn't immediately respond.

_They helped us_ , she replied, _and right now we need help and I need rest until my wing is fully healed_. With that, she shut him off from her mind and began following Trakon and Sylas into the forest. Fuming, but left with little choice in the matter, Dax slowly followed them.

Chapter 8

As a child, I heard many warnings from teachers about the perils of talking with strangers. Yet now, fairly late in my life, I can think of not many things better than to talk with strangers. The idea of being a stranger is also very appealing.

~Michael Leunig

Trakon

It turned out they didn't have very far to go to get to Trakon's house. By Dax's estimation they had traveled only a few hours on foot through the forest when the old man abruptly left the small animal trail they had been following and turned onto a barely visible path hidden in a clump of bushy undergrowth. They continued on this new trail until they came to a little cabin nestled at the base of two mountains.

He looked up above the cabin where the mountains joined together and saw a small waterfall that emptied into a pond, and continued on in the form of a trickling stream until it disappeared into the forest. Fog lay thick and heavy over the pond and up into the mountain pass, but it seemed to stop abruptly before it reached the little cabin, almost like an invisible barrier kept it out.

Trakon led them up to the cabin, but instead of going inside, he went around to the back. There, hidden from first sight by the cabin itself, was a small stable that had obviously been built for an animal much larger than a horse. The cabin boasted a small, covered deck, the roof of which stretched out to encompass the stable. The small stream had been diverted to flow into a depression beside the building so that the animal within was never short on water. The side of the stable facing the deck was open so that if you were sitting on the deck you could easily see into the structure, and even reach out and touch the animal within if you so desired, but was closed off on all other sides other than the entryway located beside the water hole.

The stable was big enough for a dragon larger than Drakthira, so she had no trouble entering after taking a long drink from the water hole, almost completely draining it. It didn't stay empty for long, however, the small stream filled it quickly and once it was full it continued on its way away from the cabin and into the forest. 'Thira walked to the end attached to the small deck and found a bed of fresh straw, which she gratefully sank into.

Dax was sure she was probably hungry, so he turned to tell Trakon he would go hunt for her, but before he could get the words out, Sylas came bounding up with a large doe in his mouth which he promptly took to the dragon, then sat and watched her while she ate it, his small, stubby tail wagging excitedly.

"I'm sure you are hungry, too," Trakon said. He motioned towards the pond at the bottom of the falls. "Go clean up and I will prepare dinner," he said. "Afterwards, I would love to hear your and Drakthira's tale, if you are so inclined to share it."

Dax still wasn't sure he trusted the old man, but a meal did sound good. He glanced down at his clothes and realized he must look a mess. When they had crashed, he and 'Thira had both been jounced around and his clothes were full of dirt and caked on mud, as well as some grass stains and even a few small twigs. He nodded to Trakon and headed off to the pond to clean up after checking on 'Thira, who he found curled up nose to tail sleeping, with Sylas beside her stretched out on his back, his head resting on her forearm.

When he returned to the cabin the smell of roasting meat wafted outside and made his mouth water. He had managed to clean not only himself, but also his clothes reasonably well in the fast flowing water of the falls. Not wanting to go back to the cabin naked, he had no choice but to put the wet clothes on, and he was very uncomfortable and was hoping Trakon would have something he could wear so he could hang them up to dry instead.

As if reading his mind, Trakon emerged from the cabin carrying a white robe similar to the one he was wearing. "Ah, I was hoping to catch you before you left the pond. Here, take this, it may be a little large on you, but it should keep you warm until your clothes are dry." Dax took the robe and thanked him, then went inside to change.

When he came back outside he found Trakon spooning stew into two bowls which he sat upon a little table Dax hadn't noticed before. There was also soft, warm bread, butter, and two cups filled with water from the stream. His stomach rumbled at the sight of it.

Trakon didn't talk much over dinner, which suited Dax just fine. He still hadn't decided how much he wanted to tell Trakon about Daegonlot. His mind kept going back to the journals he had read some months ago and the strange dragon he had met in the caverns beneath his home. He had never mentioned them to anyone, not even 'Thira, hadn't, in fact, even thought of them recently until tonight. Borl had never brought them back up and when nothing seemed to be happening to Drakthira, Dax had stopped thinking about them entirely. Now that they were off Daegonlot, he remembered his words to Borl all those months ago: "I need to get Drakthira off Daeogonlot, and quickly."

Ever since they had crashed all he had thought of was how they were going to get back home, but he wasn't sure that was the right course of action. In all the months since he had read the journals no chance had presented itself on how he could get 'Thira away from that orb hidden in the caverns beneath his house in Daegonlot. Now he was finally away and all he had been thinking was how to get back.

He mulled these thoughts over in his mind as he polished off his stew, sopping up every last bit of juice with a large chunk of warm, buttery bread. When he had taken the last bite, he sighed and sat back in his chair, sipping the cool water from his cup and looking out into the oncoming dusk.

Lightning bugs were starting to emerge and twinkled in the twilight like miniature moons quickly extinguished. He could barely make out the fog still setting heavy over the mountain pass and the pond. He thought back to earlier when he went to bathe in the pond, it hadn't seemed like the fog was there then, or at least he didn't remember seeing it. He turned to Trakon, intending to ask him about it, but found the man studying him intently.

Dax raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I'm sorry," Trakon began, "I'm just not used to having company."

Dax waited for him to continue, but Trakon didn't say anything more, merely sat and watched him. Fidgeting uncomfortably, he blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. "So, you said you used to live on Daegonlot. How did you end up down here?"

Trakon sighed and leaned back into his chair. He glanced at the stable where Dax could see Drakthira curled up next to Sylas. "Dragons," he barely heard Trakon say, "such beautiful creatures." He turned back towards Dax. "Have you ever really studied a dragon? Given any thought to their existence?"

Dax shook his head, puzzled. "A dragon is nearly indestructible," Trakon continued. "They can fly, but their bones are not hollow or light, they only have to eat once every few weeks, yet never seem to tire. Somehow they can breathe fire. Their scales are the hardest material I've ever seen, yet light. They are obviously not humanoid, yet they can communicate with us easily. A wondrous beast, indeed."

Although he had never given it much thought, Dax had to agree with the old man's statements. Dragons were not light like birds, on the contrary, they were very dense and muscular, and although their wings were quite large, they would have to be much larger than they were for flying to really make sense. And, unlike birds, dragons did not have to eat constantly to keep their strength and energy up.

"I used to be a dragonrider, you know," Trakon said.

"You? Used to be a rider?" Dax repeated, surprised. "What happened to your dragon?"

"Ah, yes. My dragon," Trakon trailed off, looking into the distance like he was looking back into time. "Her name was Rakisa. Believe it or not, I was the very first dragon rider." Dax burst out laughing at this statement, which earned him a stern look from Trakon.

"I'm sorry, but you expect me to believe you were the very first dragonrider? Everyone knows Jessa Dragonheart was the first dragonrider, and that was almost six hundred years ago. Forgive me, I mean, yes, I can tell you are old, but you aren't that old."

Trakon leaped to his feet, overturning his chair in the process. "You do NOT know half as much as you think you do, young rider!" he shouted at Dax, staring down at him and jabbing a finger into his chest for emphasis. "I WAS the first dragonrider, not Jessa Dragonheart, which wasn't even her name! What she did was vile, and the fact that dragonriders today hail her as a legend, someone to be looked up to, is also vile!"

Dax held his hands up, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, fine, ok. You were the first dragonrider, not Jessa. So, if that's true, and I'm not saying it isn't," he quickly added when Trakon's face began to darken again, "then what happened to your dragon, and why have I never heard of you before?"

Trakon seemed to deflate, a defeated look crossing his face, despair in his eyes. "Because I failed," he said, glancing once again towards 'Thira, who was now awake and listening to their conversation. "I not only failed Rakisa, but all dragons..."

He buried his face in his hands and Dax could hear him quietly sobbing. Sylas materialized beside him and rested his head on his arm, whining quietly. After a few minutes, Trakon got himself under control and patted the huge dog on his head reassuringly. "I'm alright, Sylas, thank you."

"I knew Jessa," Trakon began. "She was the first human I met on Darkenfel, as a matter of fact. Believe it or not, there didn't used to be many humans on Darkenfel, if any. I came here on accident, but that is another story entirely, and it was the same for Jessa. At first, we were just happy that we had found someone of our own race to spend time with."

He paused, remembering, then hung his head and sighed. "We spent every day together, exploring, trying to figure out how we had come to be here. Once we even tried to get back to Jessa's land the way she had come, but when we entered the cavern she said she had emerged from we couldn't find the tunnel anymore. It had simply vanished.

Anyway, after a while we stopped trying to find our way back. I'm not even sure we came from the same place if you want to know the truth, but it didn't matter. We were happy. I would even say we fell in love."

Trakon's eyes once more grew misty. "Then I found Rakisa. Quite by accident, I assure you. I knew there were dragons on Darkenfel, this was back when Daegonlot was still a part of the mainland, and I had seen them flying through the air and marveled at their beauty." He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Keep in mind, I was afraid of them, usually I hid when I saw one flying above me, but still I thought they were beautiful.

Anyway, I had gotten up early one morning to go get some kalacas fruit for breakfast. Jessa was still asleep, so I went on my own. As I was picking some of the fruit I heard a sound and, curious, I crept through the kalacas bushes and peered out. The sound I had heard was a baby dragon hatching. There were only a few eggs in the nest, and this was the only one hatching and the parents didn't seem to be around, so I stayed and watched, mesmerized.

The little dragon was still mostly in its shell, but while I was watching a goriak stalked up to the nest, intent on stealing an egg for breakfast. As silly as it seems now, I was worried for the baby dragon and before I even knew what I was doing I leapt out of the bushes waving a branch at the goriak."

Trakon laughed out loud at the memory. Dax had never seen a goriak in person, but he had seen drawings of them. They were large, with dense fur covering their bodies and huge claws and fangs. The drawing he had seen was of an adult, its head was almost as large as a dragon's, with huge jaw muscles and a wide, blunt snout. Although they were no match for even a young dragon, dragon eggs were their favorite food.

"Honestly, to this day I don't know what I was thinking. I stood there waving my little stick at the beast and shouting at the top of my lungs. It turned its beady little eyes on me and I was sure I was about to become its next meal. Instead, and to my utter relief, the mother dragon returned, dropping out of the sky with a roar of fury she grabbed the goriak up in her claws and made quick work of it."

Dax realized he was on the edge of his seat listening to Trakon's tale and that he had been holding his breath. He slowly let it out and sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "Wow," he said, "that's some tale." He thought for a moment, then asked, "Was Rakisa the hatchling you saved?"

"I can see why you would think that," Trakon said, "but no. Rakisa was the mother dragon. She was grateful I had saved her eggs and her hatchling. After she had dispatched the goriak she came back to the nest, where the hatchling had finally managed to emerge from its shell. She checked on it and warmed her other eggs, then walked over to me. She was beautiful, a brilliant blue in color with teal spikes and claws. Somehow I knew by the way she approached me that she meant me no harm, but I never expected her to be able to talk to me..."

He shook his head at the memory. "She touched her muzzle to my forehead and I heard her say 'thank you' in my mind. I was amazed and overwhelmed that such a noble creature would deign to speak to me and tears streamed down my face.

After that, I came back every day to check on her and the hatchling, always by myself. She was special to me, too special to share, at least at that time, and within a few days all the hatchlings had hatched. There were three in total. For about six months I kept them a secret, and Rakisa and I developed a special friendship. She would allow me to play with her hatchlings and sometimes even to watch them while she went out to hunt for food. After just a few months the hatchlings were too big for me to wrestle with, and at the end of six months they had all set out on their own.

I still visited Rakisa after that, but since she wasn't tied to a nest anymore, I couldn't always find her. One day out of the blue she dropped out of the sky right in front of me and once more touched her muzzle to my forehead. Instantly I felt an invisible tether to her, like an open link I could always use to speak to her, even if she were not with me. I was overjoyed."

"You mean Rakisa was a wild dragon that actually chose to keep an open bond with you? A human?" Dax asked, unsure if he had heard him correctly.

"Yes," Trakon answered truthfully, "we were friends. We enjoyed each other's company, we spoke with each other like old friends, sharing stories of our lives, and we looked out for each other. Never have I had a truer friendship. Not even with Jessa. We had come together because we were both humans and alone, out of a need to be with our own kind, but Rakisa and I had something deeper, more true, a friendship not born out of need, but out of mutual respect and trust.

Eventually Rakisa invited me to ride on her back and we traveled all over Darkenfel. We became inseparable and it was then I knew I would have to tell Jessa about her. I was actually excited at the prospect, I loved Jessa and was sure that Rakisa would like her as well and we would all be friends and live happily ever after. What a fool I was." He shook his head and sighed at the memory.

Trakon fell silent for so long Dax thought he may have fallen asleep. Just as he was about to prod the old man he heard him say, barely above a whisper, "At first everything was fine. Rakisa agreed to meet Jessa and I was finally able to tell Jessa why I disappeared for hours at a time. They seemed to hit it off immediately. Within a few months, however, Jessa began asking Rakisa if there were another dragon that she could bond with like she had with me. Rakisa wasn't really opposed to the idea, but she told us that as far as she knew no dragon had ever bonded with a humanoid before and it wasn't something that could be forced. Jessa wouldn't let go of the issue, even asking Rakisa to bring one of her hatchlings to meet her, which Rakisa refused.

I guess it was at that point that Jessa began to distance herself from Rakisa and myself. She would disappear for hours at a time and refused to tell me where she was going. I didn't think much of it at first, but hours turned into days, and finally, weeks and months until she finally just didn't come back at all. With a heavy heart, I left our little home and Rakisa and I traveled all over Darkenfel, having many adventures. I thought I would find Jessa eventually through our travels, but I didn't see her again for many, many years and by then, the damage was done."

"What do you mean?" Dax asked, puzzled. "We have all heard the story of how Jessa tamed the first dragon and formed the dragon riders from its first clutch of eggs. If dragons were not typically inclined to bond with humans and elves and dwarves, how did it happen?"

Trakon sighed and tugged at his beard. "That I don't know, Dax. When next I saw Jessa she was riding a large yellow and green female dragon and carrying some sort of colorful orb embedded in a staff. I remember it because it had such beautiful colors in it, so brilliant it seemed to make other colors..."

"...seem dull and lifeless," Dax finished for him. "Yeah, I've seen it, but not in a staff. I saw it in a cavern on Daegonlot."

Trakon jumped to his feet. "You know where the Dragon Orb is?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes," he answered, "as I said it was in a cavern under my home in Daegonlot. There were also some old journals written in a foreign language."

"That must be where Jessa emerged when she first traveled to this world," Trakon said. "She mentioned to me once that she had kept journals when she first started her journey, but she said they were lost."

He paced back and forth, stroking his beard in thought and mumbling to himself. Dax watched him for a few minutes before realizing he had never told him what had happened to Rakisa. Before he had a chance to ask, however, Trakon stopped pacing and looked at him intently.

"The Orb, when you saw it, what color was it?" he asked.

Dax thought back to the Orb he had seen in the cavern. "It wasn't just one color," he said. "There were many colors, almost all of them really, although I do remember thinking there wasn't purple or black, not that I saw anyway. I only thought that because I remember wondering at Drakthira's colors compared to the Orb's, but it never changed to those colors. But it had most every other, in all different shades, blue, green, red, yellow, orange. Hmm, not white either, now that I think about it. But it also had gold, silver, bronze, brown, and most shades of each. Why?"

"Rakisa is in that Orb, or at least her essence is, and I'm convinced that is how Jessa is controlling the dragons."

"What? What do you mean Rakisa is in the Orb?" Dax asked.

"I mean the last time I heard Rakisa she screamed out for my help and sent me a mental image of Jessa standing before her with her staff, the Orb whirling frantically. When I finally reached her, Jessa was laughing hysterically and Rakisa was gone, but I remember that Orb, which only glowed yellow with a touch of green around the edge when I first saw it, only that time it had yellow and blue swirling equally round and round, and just a hint of green and teal. For an instant I swear I heard Rakisa cry out from within that Orb, before falling silent forever."

Chapter 9

" _The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."_

~Lao Tzu

Friendship

Everyone was silent after Trakon finished his tale. Daxon stared at the table, his finger tracing the grain of the wood as he thought on everything he had heard. He didn't know if he believed Trakon was really over six hundred years old, but he believed the old man believed it. No matter how he tried to sort through everything he had learned, starting with the journals, and then speaking with Borl and Trakon, it all circled back to the Orb.

It was hard to imagine something so beautiful was so evil, but he remembered an old saying the elves had: 'When you see the face of evil, it will be beautiful.' At the time it hadn't made much sense to him, but he thought he understood now.

The silence was finally broken by 'Thira. _If what you say is true this Orb must be destroyed_ , she said. She looked at Dax, sizing him up. _Why would you keep what you knew from me, little elf?_

Dax looked into her eyes, seeing no accusation but genuine curiosity. "I didn't intentionally keep it from you, 'Thira, I saw the Orb soon after you had hatched. I didn't fully understand what it was then, although I guess I had my suspicions, but as time went by and you seemed unaffected by it, I simply forgot about it."

He glanced at Trakon, who stared back at him expectantly. He sighed and spent the next few hours telling both Trakon and 'Thira (and maybe Sylas, it was hard to say since he was lying on his back with his eyes open and his tongue hanging out of his mouth, snoring) about his visit to the cavern under his home in Daegonlot. He didn't leave anything out, nor did he embellish. He even told them of the little dragon he had met there, Riiele, and of his conversation with Borl afterwards.

No one interrupted him, and when he was finished, silence once more fell over the small party.

"She never told me about Riiele," Trakon said thoughtfully after many minutes had passed. He shook his head regretfully, and then stood up.

"Well," he said, "it's settled then. We will leave tomorrow at sunup."

"Wait, what?" Dax asked, looking at the old man like he had just grown a second head. "Where are we going?"

"Why, into the Myste, young rider. Isn't that where the dragon told you to go?"

"You can't be serious," Dax sputtered, "Why would he know where to go?"

"Well, it's the only clue we have so far unless there is something else you aren't telling us," Trakon said, looking at Dax expectantly.

Dax turned to 'Thira, hoping to find an ally. "You don't really think we should follow this old man and his dog into the Myste do you?"

'Thira looked at Trakon, then Sylas, and, finally, at Daxon. She stared at him for a long time before answering, and when she did, it was not what he was expecting.

_You have both told your tales, so now let me tell a small part of mine,_ she began _. I am not very old, but my mother was the oldest dragon in Darkenfel. I know this because she told me, before I was even born, when I was but an egg, warm and safe inside my shell. I barely remember my mother, but I know she tried to give me the best chance she could, and other than words of wisdom, she also passed on to me true sight._

None of you are what you say, or even what you think. Sylas is a beast of the Myste. He has somehow detached himself from it, and managed to keep his form; a truly unique beast he is.

Trakon, you are a dragon rider in its purest form. You do not seek another dragon to ride for power, you seek to release an old friend from a prison, and that's very commendable, but you are also a mage of sorts, with the power of the earth flowing into you. This I can see. If I had to guess, I would say you had a hand in what Sylas has become.

Trakon looked startled at 'Thira's announcement, but he didn't try to deny it, much to Daxon's surprise.

And you, little elf, are perhaps the most hidden of us all.

"Me?" Dax said, truly taken aback by the proclamation. "I have told you everything. I have nothing left to hide."

Your identity is hidden even from yourself. You, too, are a product of the Myste, although I know you don't remember. There is power within you, but you have yet to find it. More than that, you are also a true dragon rider, giving your friendship selflessly and without asking for anything in return. You took me in as an egg, you cared for me as a hatchling, and you gave me a family and trained with me, even when I didn't choose you as a rider. During our trip off Daegonlot, you have always put my needs before your own, even when you were in danger. For that, I bestow upon you my friendship, the true friendship and affection that only a free dragon can give.

As she spoke, 'Thira leaned her long neck out of the window of the stable and gently touched her muzzle to Daxon's forehead. To Dax it seemed like a window had been opened within his mind, and through it, he could feel 'Thira, a large, yet comfortable, presence, lingering on the outside of his mind, just within reach. He knew she would never shut him out again, nor he shut her out, and from this day forth they would forever be linked, no matter the distance that separated them.

And now to answer your question. I don't know why, but we must go into the Myste. I can feel it, but I can't explain it. My mother had no fear of the Myste, yet I somehow know it can be dangerous, and I feel like I should know why it is, but I can't... remember...

'Thira shook her head as if shaking off cobwebs, then turned apologetic eyes to Dax. He sighed and reached out to rub her eye ridges, scratching them until she began to purr like a large cat.

He laughed at her and pushed her head away playfully. "It's settled then," he said. He looked off into the darkness in the direction of the mountain pass. He couldn't see it, nor could he see the fog lying like a blanket over the mountains, but he found he didn't have to.

For some time now he had felt like something was calling to him, very faintly, like an annoying buzzing that never quite went away. When 'Thira joined their minds, the buzzing become more insistent, and he could tell it was coming from beyond those mountains. "We leave in the morning, at sunup."

***~***

I hope you enjoyed the first book in the Dragons of Daegonlot series. I can't thank you enough for deciding to read my book. I know there are a lot of choices available, and sometimes it's hard to decide to read a book from a small, indie author that's relatively unheard of.

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Please keep an eye out for the next book in the series:

Dragons of Daegonlot: Book Two

Into the Myste

Due out January 29, 2016
