Breaking the Veil

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley,” the old Seer crooned, a mischievous glint in her nearly blind eyes. Her gnarled hands worked tirelessly on the tapestry she wove as she spoke. Not a beat, not a thread was missed in her rhythmic flow.

Chandrea, the Seer’s great-granddaughter stood just outside the hut. Though her gaze remained concentrated on overlooking the valley far below, her ears were attuned to the crack-pot woman’s words. She had long ceased believing her great-grandmother’s fanciful tales. Even so, she continued to enjoy them nearly as much as the children who sat enthralled by the ancient woman as though under a magic spell.

“Where did they come from?” one brave lad dared to ask in an awed whisper.

The Seer paused her weaving long enough to throw a handful of powder into the fireplace. The flames leapt in response, turning every colour of the rainbow and then some, causing the children to gasp in wonder.

“Now that is an excellent question, young one. Stare into the flames, all of you. Don’t look away! They will reveal the secrets of how dragons came to dwell among us, and the foretelling of their salvation.”

“Are they in danger?” one girl asked.

“Patience. Patience,” the Seer sang. “All will be unveiled.”

The children stared mesmerized at the flames, waiting for them to share their secrets. They had grown up in a world filled with dragons, many of which lived peaceably amongst them. The people of the valley worked together with the dragons and had built their village into the cliffs to accommodate them. No one alive knew a world without the majestic, intelligent beasts, and these children could hardly imagine that there had ever been a time when they did not exist.

Smiling to herself, Chandrea remembered the first time she’d heard the tales of how some dragons descended from the skies while others crawled up through the earth. According to the stories, there had been a great war between the two sides that ended up sealing both escape routes. Thus, the dragons became trapped, and eventually adapted to this new world. Some chose to make their dwelling amongst humans, while others chose isolation. She often wondered if the dragons missed their homelands, or if they even remembered them.

A low whistle caught Chandrea’s attention and she turned to look up at the cliff rising above her perch. A dragon flew overhead, its azure scales causing it to nearly disappear against the afternoon sky. Its circling path warned her of its intent to land.

Unafraid, she watched the dragon touchdown on the jutted-out cliff next to her. The down-draft from its wings sent her hair whipping around her face, and she closed her eyes to wait for the dust to settle.

“What did I miss?” a voice called from behind the dragon. “Or am I just in time?”

Opening her eyes, she waited for the rider who was now making his descent to come to her. When he was within arms reach, she pulled him in for an embrace. “She just threw the powder on the fire.”

“Damn,” he laughed, pushing away from her to pull off his flight cap and shake out his hair. “That’s my favourite part.”

“Watch it,” Chandrea chided, stepping out of range of the sweat drops that fell from him. “Why do you have to do that, Soar?”

He grinned unrepentantly at her. “Because I know you hate it.”

She glared at him and crossed her arms. Being her best friend of many years, he knew how to be incessantly annoying, and he seemed to take pleasure in it. “Right. Raegaeryn?”

The dragon met her gaze at his name and almost seemed to smile. His serpentine neck twisted as his head shot forward.

Soar grunted as he was knocked over, falling on his stomach in the dust. “Hey!”

Raegaeryn made a sound in his throat that was an equivalent to laughter, then nudged Chandrae affectionately.

“Thanks, friend,” she told him, scratching him under the chin.

“No fair!” Soar complained.

“What’s not?” Chandrea asked, placing her hands on her hips as she stood staring down at him, a vile smirk on her face.

Soar pushed himself to his feet, so they stood eye-to-eye. “You using your powers for evil, that’s what,” he jabbed.

“I haven’t the faintest to what you’re referring.”

“Quit falling for her, Raeg. Use your brain, if you’ve got one.”

With a chuckle, Chandrea began dusting off Soar’s jacket. “I think you’re getting you and your dragon companion confused. You’re the one with no brains. It’s not my fault he likes me better.”

“They all like you better.”

“And you know perfectly well why.”

Soar shooed her hands away half-heartedly. “Alright, miss dragon doctor. I concede.”

“Dragon healer. Not doctor,” she corrected.

As was her birthright, Chandrea had been blessed with healing gifts, as had her mother before her, and so on. Because of this gift, none of her family could be linked with any single dragon, for they were meant to be of all dragons. From a young age, she’d been forbidden from getting too close to the dragons other than when they needed her abilities. Though she longed to ride one someday, she knew she could not. Of that, she envied Soar.

“How was your patrol?” she asked, pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind as she did every time.

“You might want to think about making a trip to the outer settlements. I think that dragon flu is making its round again. When I asked, they said it’s nothing to worry about yet, but a few of the dragons are on bed rest for the time being.”

“And harvest is coming soon,” Chandrea mused thoughtfully. “Very well, I’ll head out in the morning. Anything else?”

Soar shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Good. If you want to catch the end of the tale, I’m sure we can. . ..” Her thought trailed off as she looked out towards the west. Unsure of what had caught her attention, she stared out beyond the hills to the far horizon. The sun was dipping toward the edge, colours cascading across the sky in an enchanting display, but she paid it no mind.

Squinting, she tried to make out anything that might have been cause for alarm. The harder she looked, the more she thought she saw a slight smudge rising up just beyond the edge of sight. A fire that far away would be nothing to worry about, but to her thinking, it didn’t quite look like smoke.

“Hellooo. Earth to Chandrea.”

Jerking back into reality with a sharp intake of breath, she turned to Soar who was watching her with a confused expression.

“Are you back?” he asked when their eyes met.

She turned back to the horizon, but whatever she’d been seeing could no longer be made out. Perhaps it had never been. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Sorry. I guess it’s been a bit of a long day. You go on and listen to the tale. I think I’m going to head home. There’s lots to prepare if I expect to leave come morning.”

“I’ll walk you,” Soar offered.

“Thanks, but I thought you wanted to listen to the old coot’s tale?”

“That old coot is your great-grandmother, and you’re definitely going to end up like her someday if you’re not careful.”

Rolling her eyes, she began the long trek down the narrow, winding staircases that had been carved into the cliff face. “Haha, very funny. You really don’t need to walk me.”

Soar paused. “I already missed the best part. The rest I’ve heard a thousand times. Or do you not want my company?”

“Your company is always welcome,” she responded with a wide grin.

He grinned back. “Good, because I was going to come whether you wanted me to or not.” He turned back to the dragon still lounging on the cliff. “Raeg, go on and get yourself some rest. You’ve earned it. I’ll find you in the morning, okay?”

The dragon looked at them, then slowly lifted itself and leapt gracefully from the cliff.

Chandrea watched with longing in her heart. “I never get tired of watching them,” she stated absently.

“Me neither,” Soar agreed, draping an arm over her shoulders. “You okay?”

She spared a glance at him before turning back to watch Raegaeryn and several other dragons in flight. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because I know you, and I can tell that something’s bothering you. You saw something before.”

“Thought I saw something,” she corrected. “It was nothing.”

“You’re certain?”

With a weary sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “No. It just suddenly felt like something was coming. When I looked, I thought I saw a flaw in the sky.”

“A flaw? How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” As she said it, she knew it sounded like insanity. Though he’d been joking, perhaps there had been some truth to what he said about her becoming like the Seer. That did nothing to make her feel better. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Yes,” Soar replied instantly,” but not in the way you were implying. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open. If you felt something, then whatever it is will make itself known eventually.”

“Let’s hope it isn’t dangerous.”

“If it is, we’ll deal with it then.”

She nodded and lifted her head from his shoulder to look at his face. “Shall we?”

He smirked at her then peered over the edge. “By that, I hope you mean continuing on the normal way and not throwing ourselves down.”

Chandrea laughed and took a few steps down the stairs. “Oh, come on, it was just the one time. Race you to the bottom?” With a laugh, she turned and ran, taking the steps two or three at a time.

“Hey! That’s not fair, these stairs aren’t meant for passing. Come back here you cheat!”

She was halfway to the bottom when a loud crack stopped her short. Her gaze darted to the sky, searching for the source of the noise. The smudge had returned, only this time it was directly overhead, and smudge was definitely the wrong description.

Much more defined than smoke though still maintaining a smoky appearance, she decided it appeared more as a crack. Snaking its way across the skies, it continued to grow as she watched. In horror, she realized the sky was breaking apart! The creaks and groans continued to rumble all around her as the cracking spread.

Soar very nearly ran into her at her abrupt halt. “Woah! You can’t just stop in the middle of the. . ..” Noting the distance look in her eyes, he realized something was wrong. “Chandrea?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“The sky.”

Still not comprehending, Soar looked up. He squinted, trying to see what could have Chandrea in its thrall, but there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. “Hey,” he coaxed gently.

“It’s like glass,” Chandrea continued in a hypnotic tone. “The veil between our world and theirs.”

“They who?” Soar asked getting worried. Never had he seen her like this, though he knew her to be prone to minor visions. Normally, she merely sensed changes in the wind to predict weather patterns. When that happened, she would stare out at nothing, but he could always call her back. Not like now. “Chandrea, you’re not making any sense.”

“What happens when it breaks?”

Soar grabbed her by the shoulders and forcefully turned her head so her gaze shifted from the sky to him. A hazy film coated her otherwise crystal blue eyes which remained unblinking. It unnerved him, and he feared whatever it was that had come over her.

With her face turned to him, he watched in startled confusion as her forehead creased, her expression twisting into one of fear. She gasped, her chest heaving as she fought for air.

“Chandrea!?”

“Get back!” she shouted, pushing herself away from him. The haze receded, and her now clear eyes locked on him. “Soar?” she whimpered.

He never knew her to fear anything, so that tremble in her voice threw him on high alert. Wanting nothing more than to help her through this, though he understood it not, he took a step towards her, aware that a few others were peering out of windows and doorways to watch them. “I’m here.”

Tears fell down her cheeks as she reached for him. “The veil is breaking. The foretelling. Ask her what you need to do.”

“What does that mean? Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you, remember?”

“Soar.”

A loud crack reverberated against the hillside, knocking Soar off his feet. Loose stones fell, crashing down into the valley below and raising clouds of dust. Aware of the danger, he pressed himself against the wall, trying to make his way to Chandrea as the ground shook beneath him. Several steps had broken away from the cliff creating a gap, but he would not be deterred. Gritting his teeth, he leapt across, his feet slipping on loose gravel and broken stone.

Through the dust, Soar could see a figure, larger than any man he knew. This being, cloaked in billowing robes that looked like the night sky, carried something in its arms.

“Chandrea!” Soar shouted, reaching for the giant.

Something hit him square in the chest, throwing him back and knocking the air from his lungs. Gasping brought on a fit of coughs as dust filled his throat, causing his eyes to water. “Let her go,” he wheezed.

“She is ours now,” a dualic voice said in a dizzying echo.

Back on his feet, he ran at the figure, but fell through empty air instead. His knees screamed at him as they connected hard with the stone steps, but he ignored the pain.

The ground fell still, and the dust dissipated as though blown away by a strong wind, giving way to clear skies once again. Other than the whisperings of confused and terrified people, it was like that whole thing had never happened. Even the broken stairs had magically been righted.

Soar glanced around in all directions, his heart beating fiercely in his chest. “Chandrea!” he called. “Chandrea!”

“Soar? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at the speaker, staring out toward the western horizon instead. “She’s gone. He took her. The bastard!”

“Who?”

Without giving answer, he ran back the way he’d come until he reached the Seer’s hut. He ignored the shouts of annoyance from those he pushed out of his way in his haste to get there. Desperation was all he knew in that moment, desperation, and anger.

“Where is she?” he demanded, grabbing the gnarled hands of the Seer. “Where did he take her?”

Extracting her hands slowly, the hunched woman made her way to the door and placed one arm outside to feel the wind. Then, with sadness etched into every crease and winkled of her wizened face, she turned back to him. “She’s gone beyond the veil.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she is beyond our reach.”

That was not an answer he was willing to accept. “No. That can’t be. What must I do?” he asked.

Her gaze bore through him as she contemplated.

“What must I do!?”

“I am sorry,” she replied at last.

Hands clenched into fists at his side, he refused to give up so easily. “There must be something,” he urged desperately. “Please, tell me. How do I get her back?”

“It won’t be easy.”

Those words sunk in quickly, his eyes growing wide. “But it is possible,” he breathed.

She nodded. “I cannot guarantee anything. But if you wish to save her, you will find a way.”

“Tell me.”

She nodded again. “Be forewarned, Soaryk. Even if you find the veil and are able to pass through it, your quest may not end in victory. By the time you find her, Chandrea may already be beyond saving, and there is a strong possibility you will not return either. Is this something you still wish to pursue?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, ah,” she said, holding up a warning finger. “Take heed and think carefully before throwing caution to the wind. You will have to leave everyone and everything behind. Your family, your friends, perhaps even your very life. Are you willing to give that all up for her?”

Without a hint of hesitation, he drew himself up to his full height. “She’s my best friend, and I’m going to get her back.”

“Then you’ve made your decision?”

“I have.”

“Good.” She smiled at him, relief and sadness mingling on her face. “Then listen up and listen well, for I have a new tale to tell.”