Lost and Found

A chilling, sorrowful roar pierced the night sky, the lonesome sound of one’s heart shattering forever into a thousand tiny splinters, torn and ravaged with anguish and despair. Brydrënal roared until he felt his voice melt away into nothing as he desperately reached out for the splintery remains of the eggshell with large, trembling claws.

How had they ever reached this point? Who was to blame for this mess? Brydrënal himself could barely follow the doomed path of events right back to the beginning; all he knew was that his own race, the dragons, and their repeated, unchecked mistakes had led them here. When the humans had first appeared on their shores only a few years ago, they had seen them as nothing more than another animal to roam their lands. Perhaps in their pride they dismissed the first acts of treasure thievery as the sort of brainless thing you might expect from any animal. They had not realised how cunning the humans were, and completely underestimated their crazed thirst for power; indeed none of them had suspected their uncanny ability to formulate a plan, nor just how well they could execute it. So it was that they were in no way prepared for the human’s sudden, uniform attack launched only a few moments ago; it had been a planned ambush, the humans attacking the nests first and waiting, hidden and armed, for the rest of the dragons to return from hunting and see their eggs destroyed before they struck.

Brydrënal let out another roar, soulful and lonely. His mind had gone totally, irrevocably numb. His mate had been lost all too soon, and now injured and alone he felt himself refusing to accept the horrifying reality he now faced. He was not angry - he could not seem to be able to spare any sort of scrap of emotion for the enemy who had slaughtered his child in cold blood - his only stirring of feeling was a deep and painful sense of despair and loneliness. After the battle he had managed to drag himself away into a forest, but his wounds had shown no signs of healing in the days he’d spent there and the memory of his shattered egg haunted his dreams.

The babbling sound of a river caught Brydrënal’s attention, and summoning his energy, he staggered over to the water. Above him, the trees were indistinguishable in the moonlight, but he could hear the wind fondly caressing the treetops with gentle whispers far above. Greedily he guzzled the river water, deep in thought. He did not know whether the humans would come looking for him, but he knew that in his current state he would be vulnerable to any sort of attack. As his eyes began to adjust to his surroundings, Brydrënal became aware of a dark shape further down the river bank. He squinted, unsure of whether or not he was seeing right.

It was a human. This one, however, looked different…smaller, perhaps, although it was hard to be sure, for Brydrënal had never studied one up close. It was lying on its side in one of the wooden, upturned leaf-shaped floating vessels on which all the humans had first arrived, although this one was broken and missing a half, as though it had crashed on the riverbank. Lying inside it was the human. Its long curled hair billowed out like clouds behind it and its eyes were sealed shut. Brydrënal might have thought it dead if it weren’t for the small seed of life that he could feel radiating from the creature.

This was the largest thing that made dragons different from the ordinary animal - their unmatched openness and connection to the world around them. It went beyond communicating with each other mentally - for even a new hatchling could sense the network of life around them in their minds, a jumbled collection of the feelings and sensations of everything from the greatest dragon to the smallest blade of grass, a network named the Syraith by the dragons.

As Brydrënal watched the creature from behind the bushes, it struck him suddenly just how delicate humans really were. With their soft, unprotected skin and awkward two legs, it was hard to believe that such a thing could be able to formulate any sort of plan, let alone cause so much devastation because of it. To think that my child is dead because of one of these helpless beings. The thought came as a casual observation, a mere passing thought, but the more he dwelled on the truth of the words, the more he felt a fire grow deep inside his chest. A tendril of smoke rose in response, curling outwards from his nostrils in slow, threatening spirals. Here this human lives, while my hatchling and all the others who were slain in the nest were never given the chance.

The small human at that moment encompassed all that he was angry at the world for. Its tiny, unmoving face seemed to be the most repulsive thing that he had ever seen. Indeed, he would have killed the thing there and then if it weren’t for the sudden mental presence that abruptly entered his mind. Startled, he shook his head as though he could fling the presence away, but it was no use; the alien intrusion in the delicate web of Syraith stood out as vividly as if a burning iron rod had been pressed upon his skull. He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts, but he could not shake the foreign consciousness away. He pulled back, disturbed.

When he glanced at the river once more, he found the human awake and watching him with alert curiosity.

Could it be…?

As if entranced, Brydrënal reached out with one long claw towards the young. Staring at him with round, brown eyes, the creature before him was silent and had a certain air to it that reminded Brydrënal of a young deer; quiet, timid, and ultimately fragile. The human babbled something incoherent, reaching out with one small paw and placing it over Brydrënal's own. The presence in Brydrënal’s mind took a new, brighter shape - emitting what could only be happiness. Brydrënal frowned, a slight crease in the middle of his scaled forehead. It seemed that the consciousness in his head belonged to none other than this very human before him. Brydrënal did not know what to think; it was common knowledge that only dragons had the mental capacity to feel the Syraith around them. But here was this human who seemed to be connected to it as well.

Studying the human again but with more care this time, he decided that this was indeed a mere child and he was ignorant to have dismissed it as anything else; it seemed obvious now that he was looking for it. Judging off the creature’s scent, he determined it was a female.

Their eyes met again, and deep within their depths, Brydrënal saw the innocent, hopeful spark of young life that he had only been able to imagine seeing in his own hatchling. He wondered how this young child had wound up abandoned in the forest, in much of the same state as Brydrënal himself. The infant burbled something else and reached out with one short arm towards the dragon.

At that moment Brydrënal was seized by a strange sort of otherworldly possessiveness; a desire to protect this strange human who only moments before he was set on destroying, a connection that went beyond their link in the Syraith.

Illyvyn, he whispered the dragon word for lost to the infant. He felt a small bubble of some sort of content emotion emerge from it…no, her…at the sound of his mental voice.

Illyvyn, he repeated again, lost…but no more.

Though Brydrënal’s wings had been torn in the battle, likely beyond repair, he now had an escape route. Dragging himself forwards with renewed energy, he pushed the remains of the floating vessel into the river. The infant let out a squeal of alarm as the raft rocked back and forth beneath her, but Brydrënal soothed her with calm words and feelings through the Syraith and soon she sat back down, her mind still brewing with curiosity and a tinge of apprehension. The cool water felt both soothing and agonizing against Brydrënal’s wounded body, and he felt shivers ripple down through his scales the further he waded into the current. The end of the human vessel that had been torn away almost threatened to sink below the water, but Brydrënal found that if he kept the top of his snout underneath it, but still just above the water so that he could breathe, then it would stay mostly balanced and upright.

He could not express in words what exactly had compelled him to take the human. The mask of rage he had previously worn had completely evaporated, exposing the heavy and resounding loneliness that weighed upon him like a stone. And although he tried to convince himself it was only curiosity, Brydrënal could not deny the small but existing connection he felt between him and the infant. It seemed to be the only connection he had left with another living being, and he did not have the heart to leave her abandoned in the forest.

A mixture of the current and Brydrënal pushing off from the riverbed when it was shallow enough propelled them forwards. Soon, the infant was rocked to sleep and they were speeding away into the dawn of a new day. He did not know where the river would take them, only that he would not stop until he found somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from any wars and battles and tragedy, where he could spend his days in peace.

The river soon deposited them into the ocean, and an island a few miles off from the mainland proved to be the perfect destination for Brydrënal’s needs. After a last bout of energy, Brydrënal heaved both himself and the human onto the shore, and so began a new era for the mighty dragon - an era of tranquillity, the likes of which he had never experienced before.

Though he had never intended to raise the child, he found himself more unwilling to let her go every time he thought about returning her to the mainland. She was now his only companion, and the thought of being alone again sent shivers down his spine.

Though he was centuries old, Brydrënal found he learned something nearly every day with Illyvyn - as he had decided to name her. Her diet and sleep cycle were completely different to his own, but after a rough beginning where many mistakes were made, he began to better understand her ways and very quickly living together became second nature. He also discovered that despite their appearance, humans were both stronger and smarter than he had ever imagined. Many times Illyvyn surprised him with her wit and her skill. Occasionally, especially in the early days, Brydrënal found himself watching the sky and yearning for the egg that never hatched. But time was a miracle worker like no other, and soon the wounds on his heart began to close, although the scars would never completely fade.

Perhaps the biggest joy Brydrënal felt during this time was the sound of Illyvyn murmuring her first words to him. For a short time after Brydrënal first adopted her she had continued to chatter in spoken fragments of human words that he did not understand. But just as quickly as she had learnt to climb and jump, so too did she pick up on the dragon's way of communication and soon she was mimicking the words which he fondly whispered to her consciousness all day and night.

Vyn! Vyn! she often used to cry whenever she took the fancy too, her voice sweet and clear in Brydrënal’s head. Vyn was her favourite thing to say, originating no doubt from her attempts to pronounce her own name. Brydrënal found it both endearing and fitting, as while Illyvyn was the dragon word for lost, Vyn was found. And indeed, found as she now was, Vyn became a fast nickname.

And with the turnings of the tide and the changing of the seasons, Illyvyn grew. She had no recollection of her life before Brydrënal and so she accepted her island world without hesitation, for as far as she could remember, it was all she had ever known. The ocean was her best friend and she would spend hours down in its briny depths, swimming and diving, chasing seagulls or collecting pretty shells, and squealing with delight when waves crashed upon the shore and sent a spray of foam in her face. Her hair was tangled, frizzy and perpetually salty, bleached almost blonde by her time spent in the sun. Her smile glistened no matter the time of day and there was always a wild sparkle of laughter in the honey folds of her eyes.

Race me, Brydrënal! She would sing. Race me to the waves!

And so they would race, Brydrënal slowing down just enough each time for her to win, and then they would lie on the sand together, and he would tell her tales of the faraway stars, and she would listen with wonder.

Although their island was surrounded on every side with miles of shimmering ocean, on a clear day - if you managed to get high enough to see it - the outline of the mainland could be seen, faint and blurry with the distance, but it was there all the same.

What is it out there? Illyvyn would ask, her ever-busy mind eager to soak up any new piece of information he could give her.

There’s nothing out there but ocean, Vyn, he would say, his dark eyes clouding over. This did nothing to quench her curiosity, for she saw the land and she knew that he saw it too. At night as they lay down to sleep, bright ideas in bursts of colour would fizz underneath her closed eyelids as she conjured her own midnight stories like the ones Brydrënal would tell, dreaming up fantastic images and wondrous fantasies in a quest to solve the mystery of what it was on the other side of the ocean…something so great and so terrible that Brydrënal had sworn to never tell her.

Even as she dreamt of what these terrible things could be, she could not fully quieten the yearning in her heart that longed for more than just her island home, more that could perhaps be found on the other side of the ocean.

But while Illyvyn grew bigger and stronger, Brydrënal grew older and weaker. His wings had never healed enough for him to dare risk flying again, and though he was not old enough to be considered ancient by a dragon’s terms, exactly - with the slight sag of his skin against his large bones, his worn-down talons and teeth, and the wispy greying beard that curled underneath his chin - the ravages of time was plain to see upon him. Soon he no longer needed to pretend to beat Illyvyn when they raced upon the sand, and his mind quickly grew muddled when trying to recall stories to tell the child. More than ever he found himself missing the feeling of the wind under his wings and the ground soaring past below him. He observed the seagulls with jealousy and could find no more peace in cloud watching. Illyvyn watched the lines grow firmer along his face, confused and saddened by his sudden unrest.

One night, when it was perhaps Illyvyn’s sixth summer on the island, she found herself unable to sleep. On the other side of the cave that they called their home was Brydrënal, curled up in a nearly motionless pile of scales and claws. His large, scaled eyelids were sealed and his thick tail lay coiled like a huge vine around him. The only signs of life emitted from the dragon were the faint rumbling snores and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Illyvyn watched him in the near darkness, feeling a deep sensation of love bloom within her at the sight of his relaxed, peaceful, face. But the unrest persisted, and soon she found herself crawling out of the cave on her hands and knees, eager to find some way to soothe her mind.

It was a perfect evening. The sun was sinking lower, spilling out hues of pink and orange in painted swathes across the canvas of the sky. The waves lapped rhythmically against the sand, pulling towards the child and then back out into the vast greatness of the ocean, beckoning her into their depths with sleepy whispers. Obeying, she slid her feet into the water, warm in contrast to the cool evening breeze, and waded out into the sea. Smooth ripples shivered away at her touch. The water line crept higher up her body as she ventured further into the ocean’s embrace. The hairs on her skin tingled in the cold, sending tremors running up her spine. The smell of the sea was different tonight, promising her enjoyment and adventure. Under the water’s surface, the soft spongy sand cushioned her feet with each step she took. Arms of seaweed desperately clung to her ankles, the beggars of the underworld. She had only planned for a quick swim, but the water was so lovely that she simply could not resist it. This is too perfect a night to be had alone, she thought, meaning to run back up to the cave and awaken Brydrënal. Turning to do so, she was surprised to find her dragon guardian already arisen, watching her calmly from the cave entrance.

Come and play with me, Brydrënal! She begged, laughing as she splashed in the water.

Brydrënal did not stir, his mind far from reality. Watching Illyvyn play with youthful freedom made him all the more aware of the growing stiffness in his joints. He felt his age right down to the depths of his bones more keenly than he ever had before. He did not like to think of it, but knew with an instinctual certainty that his days were numbered.

Brydrënal? Vyn was watching him from the water. Though the rest of her had grown much during her years on the island, that captivating gaze of hers had never changed. Brydrënal found himself as much enthralled by it as he had been on their first meeting, some six years ago.

Illyvyn. His stolen, precious island pearl whom he had so protectively guarded all these years. The thought of ever being without her still made his heart ache.

But Illyvyn could not survive on the island by herself. She needed his warmth and fire, his hunting skills and most of all companionship. For even if she somehow managed to survive without him, the loneliness would crush her. He knew the feeling all too well.

I am coming, Vyn, he said, sliding down into the water beside her. Illyvyn wondered at his strange expression. He looked peaceful and calm, but there was also a sadness in his eyes that spoke of sorrow and of age. Let us swim together, he said. Without needing to say anything else they headed out into the ocean, comfortable in each other's company with only the moon to intrude on their peace.

Further and further out they swam together until Illyvyn found it difficult to see the shore. While they had often spent long hours together in water, tonight Brydrënal seemed to have more of a purpose and direction in mind. But he spoke nothing of it, instead gently pushing her further forwards through the sea.

Illyvyn was nearly going to break the peace, her curiosity too strong, when something caught her eye.

A light, flickering above the water far off in the distance.

Illyvyn watched it, mesmerised. It could not be the sun, for the sun was not so small. Nor could it have been the moon or stars, for the time of night was too early. She decided it could only be fire; the dancing, shimmering creature of deep burning reds and golds that Brydrënal would sometimes create for her in the coldest part of winter. But how was the fire resting upon the water? Before she could ask Brydrënal what it could be, she felt him nudge her forwards through the sea with a little push of his snout.

Go and see, he said.

Encouraged, Illyvyn progressed towards the mysterious fire with strong, powerful strokes. It was further out than she had originally thought, but even though she had already come so far she was a strong swimmer and the water was calm. Soon she was close enough to see that it was not just one fire but many, all burning at the ends of long wooden sticks. The sticks were embedded into a floor of curved wood that seemed to be floating upon the water. Fascinated, Illyvyn swam closer - and let out a gasp.

For there, floating alongside the fire, were other versions of her. A group of beings with the same faces and arms and legs, the same long hair that grew from their heads, and who were just as tailless and wingless as she, stood together inside the vessel. Indeed, they were exactly the same, save for their size and the fur wrappings they had knotted around the skin of their bodies. Illyvyn watched from the sea in utter bewilderment, and as she stared, a loud shout came from one of them. Soon all heads were turned towards her, and a loud commotion arose. Most of the people were yelling - at her, it seemed - while others extended their arms into the water calling out. It seemed to Illyvyn that they were inviting her closer, so she swam nearer, and suddenly with no apparent warning they hoisted her up onto their craft.

Who are you? She asked, dazed, but was surprised to find her words heard by none. It was as though a heavy stone wall was blocking the opening to the minds of the other humans; they had no connection to the Syraith, and she did not know any other way of communication.

They spoke to her in hushed, soothing tones as they led her, dripping, towards a corner of the vessel where a pile of furry pelts laid stacked on top of one another. With synchronised movements, they clothed the girl. The pelts were warm and dry against her skin, a curious new sensation that she was not sure whether she liked or not, but the kind way in which they chattered to her stopped any resistance. And then - amidst the loud vocal clamour of the people, she spotted two others who looked to be the same height as her, playing together near the side of the vessel. When they saw her watching, they waved at her shyly, gesturing towards them. A wave of excitement and happiness filled her as she ran over to join their game, a smile spreading on her face.

Obscured by the night, Brydrënal watched on from the ocean with contentment. He had not expected the human vessels to be there, but this way was much safer than taking her to the mainland as he had originally planned - he was not sure if he could bring himself to ever set foot in that place again. But now, his last glimpse of her would be long and fulfilling. Even from so far away he could see young Illyvyn’s smile, and what he could not see he felt through the Syraith like a glorious ray of golden sunshine, and he knew that she would be safe.

When the sun had almost begun its ascension into the sky, and the people around her tired of the excitement, Illyvyn suddenly remembered the dragon that she had left in the ocean. She felt a prickle of shame as she ran over to the side of the vessel.

Brydrënal? She called, a touch of panic in her voice. It was still too early for her to be able to distinguish anything in the darkness.

I am here. His warm, deep, rumbling voice swept through her mind in comforting ripples. In the silence that followed, she struggled to grasp hold of the words needed to express her feelings. She did not know why she felt so conflicted - she had always been able to talk to Brydrënal, but suddenly she found her thoughts empty.

Illyvyn, Brydrënal hummed. Once you were lost, but at last you have found your true place.

My place? Illyvyn looked around her with uncertainty, unsure if she understood his meaning. You mean here, without you? The ocean and Brydrënal had been her two friends for as long as she could remember, but the sense of belonging she felt here amongst the beings who looked like her was immeasurable. She liked the way they spoke to her, though she could not understand it. She wanted to stay here and play with the smaller ones forever. But Brydrënal was still the only family she had ever known.

No, Illyvyn, Brydrënal said, sensing her feelings. I cannot stay with you forever. Old age has seeped its way into my very bones, and in a few years I will be one with the Earth once more. It is for the best that you are with those who may better take care of you.

Then you are saying goodbye? Tears blurred in the corner of her vision as she spoke the words. She could not - would not - imagine a world without her Brydrënal.

Not goodbye, he said, for one day I will see you again. In that moment the tether that connected them through the Syraith blossomed and grew, and Illyvyn saw in hurried, jumbled flashes of vision and sounds and scents all the memories of the events that Brydrënal had held closeted within his heart. She watched through his eyes as he found his dead hatchling; felt his aching loneliness as he tore himself away from the broken eggshell; saw herself as a child, abandoned in the forest; and then through Brydrënal she was looking down at an older version of herself with such tender love and pride, the depths of which she had never truly understood…

…And then, just as quickly as the visions had begun, she was herself again. Illyvyn found herself panting as though she had been running all day, grappling to comprehend all that she had seen.

It is strange, mused Brydrënal while she recovered, for you are named Illyvyn, yet it was I who was truly lost. But no more. Farewell, my beloved. May you spend your days in peace.

Looking out across the dark water, she thought she might have caught a glimpse of him swimming away in the distance, but then she blinked - and any trace of him was gone.

Farewell, she said, but her words for the second time that day were heard by none.

Brydrënal was truly gone. Gone, but never lost, for as long as she lived she knew she would carry the memory of him and the island in her heart and through that, entwined forever in the threads of the Syraith. And so she watched the light pour over the glistening sea with an air of serenity, her long hair trailing behind her in the soft sea breeze.

She didn’t move until the first of the people began to awaken, and when they beckoned her towards them, she turned and came with a smile upon her lips.