A Promise Kept

The foothills rang with the anguished cries of the fallen. The empire of men had been driven out of the draconic mountains. His duties to his kind fulfilled, Dapple was free to return home. The emerald dragon looked over the devastation they had wrought once more before taking flight. As he flew, relief washed over the lonesome dragon. No more would he endure the name his kind forced upon him, Sinnom; no more would he need to play nice to avoid being slaughtered like the humans. Dapple could fly back to his corner of the forest and live another few centuries in peace before the inevitable rise of man required him to join and fight with his kind once again.

Dapple soared over the old growth forest; emerald wings stretched out to catch the wind humming the song his mother sang when he was young–a song of the trees and forests. It amused him how easily he could go from massacring a nation to humming as he flew. But Dapple believed if human groups wanted to live, they needed to stay out of the mountains.

Dapple’s thoughts and flight were interrupted by the sound of a child’s wailing. He shook his head, confused he could hear it this far from the battlefield.

“What is a child doing this close to a battlefield?” Dapple tried to push thoughts of the wailing child away, but grew curious as they seemed to grow louder. As Dapple flew further from the humans the crying only intensified, meaning the child was somewhere ahead of him. He scanned the forests below, looking for signs of people.

“Maybe a group of humans is too far into the mountains and needs to be scared out.” Dapple saw nothing, but continued to follow the wails. An odd emptiness in the forest caught Dapple’s eye as he flew. He veered towards the clearing, the crying growing painfully loud as he approached. Dapple caught a glimpse of what lay in the forest below, swerving away instinctively. Sitting amongst a ring of fallen undergrowth was a giant toddler. It was a twelve foot tall sky giant, probably of the old blood based on its size. Dapple soared away, leaving it alone. The sky giants had a truce with the dragons for the time being, but the human war was over and he didn’t want to be accused of kidnapping.

“Promise me…” his mother’s words rang out in his head.

Dapple shook his head, trying to ignore the words and the wails, trying to continue on as if he’d seen nothing. The dragon failed. Pulling his wings in close and diving between massive trunks, Dapple landed roughly on the forest floor. He puffed angry clouds of smoke but turned back to face the wailing. Growling deep in his throat he began the walk to the child, hunched low to the ground with light leaking through the trees patterning across his back. The highlights were the inspiration for his name, the reason his mother had called him Dapple. He’d been fond of the name, but the other dragons mocked him, called him a horse, or even worse, a centaur.

They called him Sinnom instead, which roughly translated to “Nameless one”. He hated the name, but the war was over and Dapple could return to his solitary lifestyle, leaving the name behind with those who used it. He could return to a life away from other dragons, but if this next moment went poorly he’d have this sky giant to deal with.

Dapple stopped a quarter mile away from the child, its cries echoing throughout the foothills. He could see the giant from this distance, but it would be hard to be noticed himself. Dapple curled his long body in on itself, wrapping almost fifty feet of dragon into a twenty-foot circle. He didn’t want to make a rushed decision. His mother had taught him to wait at least until nightfall before interacting with a lost babe of any species. If the parents were nearby, it was better to let them find the child alone.

“The parents probably aren’t anywhere at all,” Dapple thought, “I would’ve seen them while flying. Besides, how could anyone miss those cries?” A morbid thought, the most logical answer, entered Dapple’s mind, but he pushed it away. For the time being Dapple was going to wait.

He waited until dusk, an entire twelve hours. The child cried the whole time. Not once had another come to find the babe, and Dapple was beginning to worry he’d be obligated to help. When dusk turned to night the child’s sobs became cold whimpers. Dapple couldn’t take it anymore. He uncurled and moved quietly to the edge of the clearing, staying out of sight. The child had huddled up on the ground, wrapping its arms around its knees to stay warm. Dapple felt a pang of sorrow, remembering similar cold nights. He stayed within the trees surrounding the clearing, but crept around near to the undergrowth the toddler had knocked over. He pulled in a long draft of air and spat a ball of flame into the clearing, catching the undergrowth on fire. The child flinched, spinning to face the flames. Dapple pulled away, staying unseen. The child looked around warily but moved closer to the warmth of the burning trees. Dapple contented himself to retreat, hoping the flames might signal whoever lost the child.

Dapple had slept through the night, waking hopefully, only for those hopes to be dashed. The child was asleep next to the embers of Dapple’s fire and still quite alone. He growled his anger to the world, but slipped away. He returned with a deer he’d caught and cooked in a blast of fire, dropping it into the clearing before the child woke. Dapple once again curled up outside the clearing to wait, hoping for this day to be the final one before the child’s family would return.

Dapple stopped hoping after the fourteenth day. If no one was coming for the child by now, the giant was his responsibility.

“What am I going to do with you Magnamara?” he asked himself. Dapple had determined the child was female, somewhere between two and four years old. Giants, much like other magical creatures, lived extremely long lives, but the first few years were almost equivalent to a human’s early years. Magnamara didn’t have any language ability, something Dapple was glad for. He didn’t know any Giganti, only human speak and Draconic. They were the only two languages his mother knew. Dapple had named the babe Magnamara, which meant “Loud cry.” Fortunately for his eardrums, when the babe realized something was taking care of her, she didn’t wail quite so often or for quite as long. However, the times she did cry were just as loud.

Dapple decided the best way to approach was with food. He found another deer, which had become harder as the herds learned to avoid Magnamara, and brought it back between his jaws. Instead of dropping it behind the babe’s back Dapple landed in the forest around the clearing. He moved around, not trying to cover up the sounds of his movement. Magnamara looked his way, searching the trees. Their eyes met and Dapple saw fear alight in her eyes. She began to cry, backing up to the trees on the other side of the clearing. Dapple inched forward, deer clenched in his jaws, sneaking his head and neck out into the open. Magnamara wailed even louder but Dapple ignored it, placing the deer as far forward as he could. Dapple made eye contact once more before pulling back into the trees and retreating out of sight. He moved around, just in case she’d kept track of him and curled up to watch the clearing. Magnamara had quieted down minutes after he had gone. It still took the child another hour to creep over to the deer and pick it up, eating it.

When time came for Dapple to light another tree on fire, he repeated a similar process. He landed, made noise while moving, then slowly inched his head out into the clearing. This time Magnamara didn’t cry but she still pulled back. Dapple lit the pile of embers then left. He watched from afar as Magnamara pulled down a tree into the blaze before curling up next to the fire and falling asleep. They continued this process day by day, Dapple watching for signs of the child’s trust. He started to pull back but not out of sight when he left the food, and when he lit the flame Dapple would hum to alert her of his presence. When winter came Dapple was able to stay in the same clearing as the child for most the day. She still hadn’t touched him, but Dapple hadn’t offered. He still held out hope that someone would come to retrieve Magnamara. It was a futile hope, Dapple knew, but he couldn’t give up hope so easily.

Winter was cold, extremely cold. The last year had been hard but something in the air seemed determined to kill anything without a fire in its belly. Dapple had a fire in his belly, Magnamara did not. When autumn slipped away and the nights’ temperatures dipped to below freezing, even Dapple’s fires were not enough to keep Magnamara warm. The first night of this she woke up blue and half frozen. Dapple was concerned and spent the next day looking for a cavern. He found one not too far away but it was home to a bear. Dapple searched around for any uninhabited caves but no others were close enough so Dapple filled the cavern with flames, incinerating the bear. The acrid smell revolted him but Dapple didn’t pay it much heed, flying back to the clearing, Magnamara smiled weakly as he landed, shivering. Dapple hummed his mother’s song, the song he’d been humming to alert Magnamara of his presence when he lit the nightly flame. The babe hummed along, closing her eyes and relaxing. Dapple motioned with his head, trying to get the child to follow. Magnamara’s eyes were closed so she missed it. Dapple stopped humming and snorted. Still Magnamara slept, face contorting from cold. Dapple hadn’t pushed contact on her, but a sense of fear won out and Dapple crawled close. He reached out tentatively with his snout, gently brushing her arm and pulling away. Magnamara stirred, blinking her eyes open. She looked at Dapple, reaching out a hand towards him. He moved himself until her hand touched his neck. She was ice cold. Dapple moved slowly to surround her, folding a wing over her to trap heat in. Magnamara burbled happily before drifting into a deep sleep. She slept through the night without a single shiver.

Dapple was able to bring Magnamara to the cave two days later, after slowly convincing her, it was safe to ride on his back. He didn’t fly and fortunately the cave was only an hour’s walk away. On arrival, Dapple was grateful to note the pungent smell of crisped bear was gone. The scorch marks were the only remaining signs the bear had ever existed. Dapple entered the cave slowly, using his breath to light the way and his tail to guide Magnamara. There were cobwebs he burned away and some cracks he sealed by melting the stone. Dapple made a hollow at the end of the cave to be a hearth and left Magnamara to go grab a small sapling. He dragged it back in, lighting it on fire and curling up next to Magnamara.

They lived in the cave for the next two years, putting logs in the entrance to keep in the heat. Dapple would hunt, bringing back animals for him and Maggie to eat and then he would teach her how to survive. He started calling her Maggie when she began talking, partially because he was teaching her human speak and draconic and she’d learn what “Magnamara” meant, but also because her full name was a mouthful. Eventually Maggie outgrew the cave and they were forced to find a larger one. The new cave had been home to a wyrm but Dapple was able to scare it away. They stayed in this cavern until Maggie was full grown, moving in when she was only twelve years old. Still, at that age Maggie towered above Dapple. He had her beat lengthwise but often flew to speak with her on eye level.

Dapple loved Maggie fiercely. He’d been alone for so long it felt like rediscovering his emotions. Sometimes he felt pride at watching her flourish. The first time she caught her own deer they celebrated together. Sometimes Maggie fought as she got older and Dapple had to learn to discipline, struggling to find a balance between using his words and using his strength. One time Dapple resorted to picking her up by the arms and flying her into the sky until she calmed down. Other times, Dapple used that strength to protect Maggie, defending her from malevolent creatures of the forest.

“What am I?” Maggie asked one day.

“You’re a sky giant,” Dapple told her. He explained everything he knew about sky giants, a decent amount but also centuries old knowledge. She hadn’t taken well to learning she’d been lost or abandoned and didn’t speak to Dapple for a week after. He gave her space, remembering his adolescence and having similar arguments with his mother.

“Mom, if raising me was as difficult as raising Maggie, I apologize,” Dapple said to himself. He was on the other side of the relationship, the one who was supposed to understand the world. Dapple didn’t feel like he understood the world, he just felt like a dragon who’d been fortunate enough to find and take care of a lost child. He didn’t know much more about the world than Maggie, even if she believed otherwise.

When Maggie next spoke to Dapple she was determined to one day go find the people like her.

“It’ll be hard,” Dapple told her. “You’ll have to wait a few more years before you’re allowed to go on your own.”

“You won’t come with me?” Maggie asked, perplexed. Dapple puffed out smoke.

“The sky giants wouldn’t want me. Dragons and giants don’t mix. It’s why I need you to wait a few more years,” he told her. She sat thoughtfully, before surprising him by agreeing.

Dapple had expected her to riot against his decision. It is, after all, what he’d done to his mother when he’d first decided to find his own kind. Dapple remembered forcing his mother to follow him on foot while he winged his way through the mountains on a fool’s errand. Maggie, instead, took time with Dapple to learn all the skills she would need to survive. He taught her how to start a fire without him and to hunt. He taught her how to make clothes as best he could, which she desperately needed. While he wasn’t opposed to a practically naked giant walking around the forest, he knew giant society wouldn’t feel the same.

Dapple did his best to teach her, imagining what it must’ve been like for his mother to teach a dragon without being one herself. He didn’t have most of the skills he needed, and often had to guide her generally while her instincts took over the rest. She began to learn more on her own, using less and less teaching from Dapple. He knew she was ready to go when she’d found a troll speaking Giganti and learned the language all on her own. She came to Dapple one day, brimming with excitement.

“I’m fluent in Giganti!” she exclaimed. Dapple felt a swell of pride, she’d be able to talk with her people, but also the ache of loss. It was finally time.

Dapple took Maggie to a small hill on the edge of the mountains, a white quartz rock jutting from the top. He landed, curling up around the stone. Maggie was seventeen, still a youth but fully grown. She stood tall and strong, a handmade axe slung across her shoulder over her hand sewn garments. Her silvery blue sky giant hair shone like moonlight and her smile the light of Dapple’s world.

“What is so important that you brought me here?” Maggie asked him as Dapple curled up around the mound. She stood on the slope of the hill, head level with his standing height. He sighed, trying to reign in his emotions.

“I brought you here to let you go,” he said. Maggie gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “You know all you need to survive, there is no more reason for you to stay.” The words pained Dapple to say, but he felt the truth of them and knew he did the right thing.

“There is a reason for me to stay,” she complained, but Dapple interjected.

“I will always be around, but you have the opportunity to leave now and I want you to take it.” Maggie nodded solemnly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve brought you here to tell you a story, my story.” Dapple looked down at the mound, filled with nostalgia for his own youth. “This is where my mother is buried.” Maggie looked down in confusion at the marker.

“Is that her tooth?” she asked in confusion. “Or is this entire hill her burial mound,” she said as if she’d figured it out. Dapple shook his head and Maggie frowned.

“My mother was a human named Elaine,” Dapple said. Maggie’s brows furrowed but Dapple didn’t give her the chance to ask questions. “I, like you, was abandoned when I was young. I have no memories of parentage beyond Elaine.” Dapple’s gaze returned to the mound fondly. “She wasn’t much of an adult herself when she found me but she did her best to raise me to maturity. And one day,” Dapple looked into Maggie’s eyes, “She sat me down and told me it was time for me to go become a dragon.” He chuckled, looking back on what a horrible dragon he’d become. His mother would be so proud. Dapple leaned his face forward, touching his snout to Maggie’s nose. She squeezed her eyes tight, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Dapple didn’t cry, dragons don’t cry like humanoids, but his heart yearned for Maggie to stay.

“What was she like?” Maggie asked. Dapple pulled away to look Maggie in the eyes.

“She was strong, yet gentle. Tough yet soft. She was all kinds of contradictions because she was able to raise a dragon without dying or creating a total wimp out of me. She was amazing.” Dapple turned his face away, trailing smoke from his nostrils. Maggie placed a hand on his shoulder, between his foreleg and wing.

“She sounds a lot like my dad,” Maggie said. Dapple looked at her, meeting her tear lined eyes. “He’s fierce yet mild, powerful but also controlled. He’s a flying set of contractions who raised a giant when he didn’t even know how to be a dragon.” She choked up, wrapping her arms around his neck. He wrapped his head around her neck, laying it on her shoulder while she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me I was going to leave today, I would’ve been more prepared?” she cried. Dapple snorted bitterly.

“I hid it from both of us because I won’t ever be ready to let my daughter go.” He unwound his head and arched his neck to look her in the eye. He found determination and sadness mixing in her clear blue eyes, blue like the open sky. “I brought you here to make a promise like the one my mother made me promise.” Maggie wiped her eyes and shook her head to clear it.

“Anything,” she said.

“My mother made me promise to never leave a young creature to fend for themselves,” Dapple said. He heard Elaine’s voice in his head as he spoke the next line.

“You were given a chance at life because I came along, don’t deny that same gift to anything else.”

Maggie straightened up to her full height. “I promise to pass on this gift if I find someone in need.” Dapple nodded once, also straightening up to meet her strong gaze.

“With that promise I release you to the world.” He spoke. Maggie smiled and leaned in once more to fling her arms around Dapple.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He wrapped his neck around her tightly and folded his wings around their heads, enclosing them like the first night he kept her warm. Dapple closed his eyes and began to hum his mother’s song. It was a lullaby but now it sounded sorrowful. Maggie joined in and together they hummed Elaine’s song. When it finished Dapple pulled his wings back.

“You are always welcome to come visit,” he whispered before he unwrapped his neck and pulled away. Maggie stood up. adjusting her axe. She had no pack, no extra clothes, no money and no companion but it was her time to go explore the world. “The sky giants live in the mountains west of here,” Dapple said, pointing in the direction with his head. Maggie nodded, smiled once more before setting a determined pace, walking away.

Dapple stayed on the hilltop watching her go until he couldn’t see her. She would face many trials, Dapple knew from experience. The world was big and she would struggle to fit in with the giants; she’d probably end up living a solitary lifestyle. Dapple could tell her this, describe his isolation and scorn from his kind, but he’d lived in her place. He knew Maggie needed to learn for herself. She was strong and resourceful, she spoke three languages and knew how to survive in the wild. She would be fine, even if Dapple didn’t know if he would. He curled up on his mother’s grave, laying his head on the mound. His sadness washed over him.

“Did you hear that mom?” he asked the ground, knowing nothing was listening. “She called me her father.” Fire shot out of Dapple’s nostrils and he arched his neck up to the sky. He howled away his sadness, much like when a lost orphaned dragon howled at the sky, hoping for anyone to come help. He remembered his mother’s caring embrace as she scooped up that young dragon. He remembered his caring embrace, wrapping around a young giant girl who shivered on the brink of death. Dapple howled and howled until he didn’t have the heart to continue. He laid his head back down on the mound.

“I did it mom. I kept my promise.”