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Dragon Song

When the music stopped, the dragons came.

By Heidi Beth SadlerPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 6 min read
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Wonder Tree by Heidi Beth Sadler

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. But that was a long time ago, before the music stopped and the children began to disappear. You can’t create an ending without something else beginning. This is the life-death cycle that resides in all of us. No planet is immune.

Ten years…Has it really been that long since everything changed? Before the dragons, I was a little girl, running with wildflowers along the riverbank. I chased butterflies, while Mother braided my flowers into a crown. These are my last happy memories. The dragons put an end to all that. Their fire has destroyed most vegetation in the Valley.

During the reign of King Abram, Daraquay was a lush, thriving planet. In the old days, we held vibrant celebrations in the Valley. Our whole village would caravan down to the Cadence River, which I am named for. We would spend the day playing harps and guitars, singing the songs of our ancestors. My father was the village luthier and could play any instrument with the ease of a bird taking flight. Papa was my hero.

By Almos Bechtold on Unsplash

The sudden death of King Abram and the crowning of his treacherous son Malon changed everything. Within days, the first edict was issued, outlawing all music. Papa was one of the first citizens seized. King Malon’s proclamation read as follows:

“Hear, O people of Daraquay, the edict of the Throne. From this day forth, in every corner of the planet, the practice of music is outlawed. Whether it be singing or the playing of instruments, no form of music will be tolerated. Any citizen resisting the edict or aiding violators will be sentenced to the royal dungeon. This is the word of the Throne.”

Within in a week’s time, all luthiers and pipers and minstrels were taken to Paramount. They were never seen again. This was just the first of many edicts to come.

Before that day, I held no fear of the Throne. During the reign of King Abram, the Throne was beloved across Daraquay. My parents were two of his most faithful subjects. In his youth, my father apprenticed with the royal minstrels. The palace at Paramount was where he met my mother who served as seamstress to Queen Evangeline. My parents eventually married and moved to the Valley with every intention of growing old here. If only…

It wasn’t until King Abram suddenly died and Prince Malon ascended that we came to fear the Throne. I think the heart of Abram’s people died with him. This is why the Elite call us Hollows. Empty shells. If only they knew the names we call them…

It was our singing that kept the dragons away. By stopping our music, the once dormant monsters have become Malon’s primary weapon of control. If we start singing, the Throne will lose their dragon warfare.

Don’t stop singing, Cadence.

These were the last words my mother spoke to me. I wish I had honored her wishes. But if I defy the Throne, who will care for Lydia and Alex? My siblings were just babies when Papa was taken and Mother died in the Valley fires. As a young girl, I imagined children of my own. Not mother to my parents’ children. Parents are supposed to die first. My life has become inverted. Alex and Lydia are the sole strands of beauty in my life. In times of tyranny, hard choices must be made.

It’s strange to think that my siblings have no memories of music. Once, when Lydia was a toddler, I heard her start to hum. To the human, humming is as instinctive as the way a gazelle scales Mount Seraphine. It didn’t take long for me to teach Lydia to silence her inclination. The sensors can detect any music lasting more than a few seconds. Each year, the Throne continues to refine the sensors. A hint of melody triggers the sirens. Sometimes, I hear them in my dreams-those screeching alarms whose piercing sound reaches as far as the village edge. Just last month, my friend Viola was seized when she was caught singing to her mistress’s crying baby. I doubt she even knew she was doing it. Soothing a crying child is as natural an act as breathing.

“Cadence! Cadence!!!” Speaking of the children, my sister is restless.

“Leave her alone,“ I hear Alex correct her. He’s older by eleven months and takes his role as big brother quite seriously.

“Cadence, are you coming down?” Lydia ignores him and calls up to the loft.

“Bet patient,” I tell her. She knows she’s not to disturb me until First Light appears.

“But I’m hungry,” she laments.

Lydia is always hungry. We all are. The daily allotment from the manor kitchen is barely enough to keep a body going. The only citizens with full bellies are the Elite.

“I’ll be down soon,” I call down. “If you let me finish my transcribing, you can read the book.” I hear her hands clap, and she is temporarily satisfied.

“I’ll read,” Alex informs her. He has a knack for narration, and Lydia’s favorite thing is hearing the words of the Oracle.

By David Tomaseti on Unsplash

“Take heart, O people of Daraquay,” I hear Alex begin in the deepest tone his eleven-year-old voice can muster. “For those poor and lowly, the ones with dreams deferred, a day will come when the singing rises and the fires cease. The heavens will break forth with the tears of the people and wash away the oppression. From the land of the Hollows, the heart of a child will appear and take His rightful place as High Lord, restoring peace and joy to the land. Come, O Tear Collector. Come to us. Your people wait for rescue.”

This is why I keep the book hidden under the floorboards. If Lady Imaldi discovers it, she’ll have me on the road to Paramount before I have time to protest.

When I first learned the Oracle’s words, they were set to a haunting melody. We sang them around the campfire as we roasted cherries and acorns. At the time, we had no thought of the horror to come. We held no concept of a need for rescue. Sometimes, I wonder if our words could have brought on the destruction, but then again, what use is it to muse about the past? Our present is where we reside.

And so, dear Tear Collector, I write again, wondering if you really are out there. The people of Daraquay need you. I need you. How many letters have I sent down the river, hoping they might reach you? What if I’m wasting my time? If the Elite find them, it could be the end of me, but thankfully, Elites don’t walk along riverbanks. Such activity is beneath them. Only Hollows dirty themselves and risk the unpredictable fire that comes from the snout of a wild dragon.

Fantasy
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About the Creator

Heidi Beth Sadler

I am a wild violinist & visual artist in Portland, OR. I co-front world-folk rock band Chasing Ebenezer with my husband Benjamin. I paint in the spirit of pointillism and textured art. I love writing and am so grateful you visited my page.

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  • Gary Schwarz2 years ago

    I loved it and to read more. I like the Genre and think the idea of music keeping the dragons away is brilliant!

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