Summer of the Dragons

There weren't always dragon's in the valley. Only in the summer, but they came in swarms, glittering like cut gems in the sky. We're just as likely to see boiling rain as we are plumes of fire overhead. People call us crazy for living in the dragons' valley, but we don't see it that way.

We are the guardians of the valley. Generations of warriors with knowledge passed down, so that we might protect the sacred beasts which give the world its lifeblood.

The valley is where they gather, dragon's from all over the world. They convene here from the solstice to the equinox, though why, we don't know.

We know part of it is to breed. While dragons are usually solitary, they take the time to be amorous in the summer, and on the equinox, there is always an egg or two left behind for us to care for.

My job has never been egg care, or even early rearing. My job has always been flight training.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, watching pebbles tumble down into the valley, part of me understands our reputation.

I tug on the straps of my flight suit. Panels of reinforced fabric connect my legs to my arms along the line of my body, as well as a panel between my legs. Together, they catch the air as I fall, allowing me to imitate flight.

Nothing like the graceful lines of the dragons' wings, or their whip-like tails. The three who stand behind me, each by now at least twice my height and growing into their predator instincts, are capable of true flight under their own power.

But still, they are children, and so they stand with their carers, all awkward like a teenager about to leave home.

"Ready Aritt?" Asks Seren. He raised the tallest of the dragons we had this year, a towering Red Western. Its scales shimmer and glow in the sunlight, occasionally blinding. The dragon will grow to approximately the size of a red cedar in adulthood. Now, it's only the size of a small house.

I pat over the last of my security checks, ensuring my suit won't fail. While on a training flight earlier in the summer, one of the buckles came loose, and the only reason I didn't end up a bad paint splatter was the Serpentine I'd been flying with at the time. It's standing with us now, coiled next to the Grey Rattler, waiting impatiently for us to kick off.

I crane my neck to glance at the sun. "You think it's time?"

Marrik, standing next to the Grey Rattler, checks his watch. The Rattler snaps at him gently with its razor teeth.

"Fuck off, Rattie." He swats at the Rattler. "Thirty seconds and counting until Solstice pique."

I nod, and move to make room between me and the cliff edge. The carers move off to the side, and the dragons take their queue.

"Fifteen seconds." Says Marrik. I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath.

"Ten seconds."

"Five,"

I dig into the dirt, a runners stance.

"Three--"

I take off at a sprint, the dragons just behind me.

"Two--"

I reach the edge, and leap off as far as I can, spreading my arms and legs to catch the wind.

"One--"

The shadow of the dragons falls over me, already flying higher than I ever will.

"Now!" Marrik cries, and across the valley, the Dragons arrive.

On the other side, the Dragons are spilling into the valley like water, massive, undulating, contorting beasts returning to our home once again.

The Grey Rattler has already positioned himself under me, the wake off his wings buffeting me up so I can keep pace with them.

Another reason the dragons return to the valley is to pick up the dragon young they left behind for the year.

Without fail, the sight sucks the breath from my lungs every time. The Dragons meet us halfway, their numbers surrounding us in every direction. They shoot past us like lightning, so close I can feel the wind buffet my arms. The colours are a kaleidoscope surrounding us, dizzying and psychedelic. A less experienced flyer would lose control and fall. But not me.

And then it's over. The hoard of Dragons has passed, and the three youths have peeled off with their parents, leaving me to glide down to our village at the bottom of the valley.

I chance a glance over my shoulder, just to see the Dragons one more time, twirling in the sky in joyful reunion, before I hook my fingers into the parachute cord and pull.