Survive Where Survival Is Key

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley. At least, not until the rings broke out.” Each time Shawn Aerelynn started this section, he groaned mentally. There were expectant eyes watching from his classroom as he recounted the local tale. Each kid’s face looked washed of the normal inattentive façade as something more interesting came along. Heads leaned forward as if trying to see the internal movie on page as the tale unfolded.

“The Noble Clans of Drakon were of peace. Without regard to each groups’ specific attribute, they worked as a well flowing, flourishing society.

By no means were clans’ living lives of extravagance or high profile. Being Drakon meant survive where survival is key. The thousands of years they were around bore genetic and elemental evolutions; mutations that made shifting and concealing the obvious second nature.”

Mr. Aerelynn held a book that the class was beginning for their section on fiction. The tale of dragon like creatures called Drakon always touched a sore spot for him. It was a tale of sorrow, discord and a riveting plot twist that would surprise the most cynical critic at its unfinished state.

Yes, it was unfinished. The tale is a blistering and festering, unfinished tale that he has been sucked into and spit out of at every dead end. English was his career because his passion paid nothing to the bills at home, decorating the dining room table. He moved here to finally get peace of mind from what was regarded as a “financially, self-detonating, pit of despair.” Words from his ex-girlfriend in front of his parents in the format of an intervention. He packed up his flat, moved three states away and changed his number. He wasn’t a social butterfly by no means, but he knew that his two friends from college would not cave and disclose his location. Ever.

“800 long moons ago, a Vulcan drake appeared in a village of Ether Drakon. It had stumbled and crawled to the claw user entry until it fell lower, laying still; unmoving.

Vulcan Drakon had lovely burgundy, maroon, coral, and bronze scales with long sleek bodies. Their arms and feet were thin, but tightly packed with banded muscle, each tipped with slim claws that could produce eroding acid at a single thought. The slit pupils usually ranged in shades of green, blue and violet to easily adapt to their acrid habitats.

For one so young to venture hundreds of wingspans drew immediate concern. They approached shifted to move the youngling to a care hut. There, the healers of the community looked at and tried to heal what ailed the little one. It was a breeding shift that laid there with pale flesh, uncommon for their breed. The flesh usually held shades of bronze, copper or gold with small, almost invisible red scales that bordered on tangerine. The child was pale as the southern sands. Where they should have scales that shown delicately along face and neck were nonexistent. The youngling was listless and cold as the glacier home to the Verglas Drakon.”

He removed his thin, rimless glasses to his shirt pocket as he leaned back along his work desk. It was a Friday afternoon and the staff usually dressed fairly lax as a favor to their teaching wardrobe. He had on a simple, metal-gray button up on with the top button left undone and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He wore simple black slacks and a pair of simple but comfortable loafers that gave the appearance of put together and professional, but relaxed. His thick chocolate curls had grown a bit and laid messily about his ears and temples. Currently, it clung a bit to the fine sheen of sweat beading up on his brow as his hair seemed to trap the moisture.

His class was made up of twenty-three students between the ages of eleven and twelve making their ways through the challenging world of 6th Grade. Liberty Valley School District made sure to showcase the local lore of the Drakons. The summary of the book he was reading with the class was simple. Lots of dragons with various attributes outside of being scary as hell and able to rip you to shreds, lived peaceably. A dragon from the Tempest Caldera made its way to Jett’s Peak in the Caraquae Mountains. The dragon fell ill with some plague like disease and died. Soon, other dragons began getting the plague and dying as well, reducing their population at large numbers. To survive, they cleansed and then hid away for fourteen suns. As soon as they could, they fled to the remote valley.

Returning his thoughts to the reading he was doing, his rich baritone continued. “Throughout the night, they worked tirelessly keeping the human shift warm and closer to its natural temperature. As the moon sat high in the cloudless expanse, the façade of calm control shattered.

Cries from the care hut alerted the healers to a panicked start. Flapping and clawed appendages could be heard shifting into person forms. The breeding shift was laying in distress, keening wails much like the hatchlings gave when first light hurt. Along the fire flushed skins were rounded marks. Each varied in size and were a hideous boysenberry tone. They oozed and ruptured unprovoked as the youngling tried to soothe the pain away as their skin opened and festered.

Shifted hands covered face and nose to try and block the rotting scent hovering in the space mixed with failed poultices and tinctures. A lone voice, low and steady cut through the lost and baffled mass.

“Derrigan, take this to Grizerda of the Vulcans. Wait and return after her reply. Shift and leave at once.” The voice belonged to Anquarious, the High One of Currents. The High One looked on as the others murmured, the cries lowering to whimpers as the youngling fell half alert.” Honey and smoke-colored eyes subtly watched the room as they seemed to draw near, except for one. Her brilliant eyes were hard as diamond if the rest of her expression was to be trusted. Looking at the pages again, he picked back up where the Messenger Drakon had returned with information.

“Within a day, Derrigan returned with four Vulcan drakes as one carried a support sling and wrong nest. As they landed, two shifted and went to move their lost one for return but gasped. Others heard the shock and pinned the foreigners with steely regard. A bearing shift spun around looking for the healer.

“The wet fires of home cannot save the youngling. He has been stricken with the rings. We need to return the body to wet fires as mercy.” The head of brilliant copper common fur dropped in veiled anguish. The others of the caravan bowed down to honor the youngling, asking for safe return to the wet fires which bore their kind.

“For Windsong's mercy, what is the rings? Why is this youngling so far from home nest?” a healer with head fur of winter air stepped forward, staring into eyes of lavender-tinged sky. The small healer stood still as the foreigners looked a moment more at the fallen youngling sprawled near the hearth before speaking.

“It began about 6 or 8 moons ago. Some of our scouting troops came back with weird ailments. They were... Cold. Even within the fire realms, the temperature never went up. Soon, we noticed some began to... Not recover.” The breeding shift looked out, gaze caught in a retelling of a history too new and horrifying.

“Pahyer was out with a gathering clutch some 100 wingspans sunward as part of teaching. That clutch was attacked on return. We have not found who, but all we lost were covered in the blackened rings. Some that lived were cold… so very cold. We placed them in the hatchling fires to help but soon… the screams…. The wails…” his voice trailed off and the bearing shift continued as her hand laid on his upper arm.

“The wet fire we use with hatchlings did nothing. They all perished in agony. We searched for many suns for Pahyer, but we assumed he was lost to the ones who did this. It will be our vengeance to give if the cowards are found. How did he get here?” her voice was low and gravelly as each word held more emotion than the last.

The elder healer approached; head cast down in remorse. All eyes in the hut moved to the healer as each made themselves scarce. They had worked tirelessly to revive and treat the youngling. Many even stayed behind to work from sunrise to moon fall. Hearing the tale of others took the remaining hope this one would survive.

“We tried. This little one was brought into us from the claw entry gate. The youngling was moving slowly until they could no longer move on their own. He was brought here where we tried all of our medicine to heal him so we may uncover what happened. We wanted to send word once the youngling was aware of their surroundings so that we could give you as much information as possible. Our scouts have not seen anything out of the usual in the area. You say this occurred quite a ways distance from our gates correct?” The deep amber eyes drew tight in thought. Though they were only a healer, every member of the community had multiple roles. The primary role was healer however, they also commanded a tracking fleet.” Every part of the tale tugged at his gut as if there was a piece of him that longed to see the magnificence, longed to know what really happened and was there a cure to the ring plague. His heart longed to settle his mind’s ability to be fool hearted and logical with a deep but satisfying answer. A completed tale. The answer that would make this move worth while and give a settled peace to Shawn, until the next question would form. Now what do I do with this information?

Shawn moved to Liberty Valley about two years prior. The city was between three, high mountain peaks, but to the town’s eastern border laid a labyrinth-like carving of caves and deep ravines with underground separations and winding catacombs. Places that still had not been mapped even though there was an expedition led there every few years as some act in conservation. Liberty Valley went on for what looked about five miles before vegetation and terrain began to change and turn into less rock; more grass and trees and greenery as it began to slope downhill. The lore was born for the location as there was a once volcanic mountain about ninety miles south that now lay dormant. Northward was the rest of the Caraquae Mountains. It was a range that went on to seemingly rival the Himalayas, but never got the notoriety the other formation received. The sun bounced from the glistening peaks as if the tops were made of diamonds and glass; winter and summer always painted the range’s visage in an ethereal light. It seemed to illuminate the sky each pass and even held its own rumor that it was the place the moon hid at night.

“The healing cave was warm but smelled of rot and the scent of imminent death lingered closer still. While some remained, many left the cave. As the moon crossed the great above toward the vanishing point, no drakon was calm after learning of the Vulcans’ attack so close to their areas. Yet, one Noble’s visage was of still water; it belied no waiver and sought no crease of worry.

Anquarious was calculating; a shrewd and ruthless force when needed, yet many fledglings and younglings look at him as more of a sire than head of the Ether Drakon clan or Anquarious, High Noble of the Currents. Laying uncomfortably in the large nest, he went over the details. A blight that infected the drake of other realms had come to his people. There was no known cure or answer to how long one suffered until they succumbed. If left unaddressed, his people and the other clans could fall. Making his decision, he withdrew the Ancient Relics. Summoning a Speed Glider, he gave the messenger 3 talismans the Elder Ones would recognize.

There was a ruby scale that fell from the Ancient Fire Drakon’s hide as he bore into the wet fire to create his domain. There was a Claw of Solid Moonbeams that fell from the Ancient Water Drakon. It was said that it had been separated from him as he fought the tides for dominance. It was the offering as he tamed the tides and married the Moon for safety of his pack. The last relic was a whisker of gold. It was a fallen part of the Ancient Earth Drakon as she thrust her whiskers into the world’s dirt and release her scales. From her life bringing body sprang the race that became the Drakon. She began their race in the four elements. Each element created afterwards was from a bond between the elementals. It was told that her whisker detached as her immortality faded from her scales. It was kept as a reminder of the sacrifice their lives had caused.

Anquarious touched a claw to the clear, diamond stone that was cold as ice. It was the relic of the Ancient Air Drakon. It was said that she flew to the highest of high and roared. Her dynamic voice was so powerful that the mountains bowed, water ran still, fire shrank to embers and the winds fell to her command. With her intake of air, the spirit of the world entered her innards. When she laid her first egg, it was a tiny, glasslike stone with the scent of air and life coiled around. It was made of starlight and still water and pulsed with life. It was her only egg as she faded from the world. He watched as the speed glider took off in a swirling flight like a comet in the navy skies, watching the fire for answers.” A hand rose up and he placed his glasses on the see who had the question.

It was a small boy with mousey blonde locks that laid lank on his ears and neck. The front was shaggy and fell into his eyes like a curtain. His face had rust colored freckles on plump, child like cheeks that had not seen the influx of puberty growth. The face looked at him, a set expression of need to know firmly planted in the pale blue eyes.

“Yes, Aaron?” The class shifted to look at the boy in question, trying to discern what would draw question.

“If Liberty Valley is where this took place, why have we never found any proof?” His eyes bore into Shawn’s own whiskey eyes as the other faces turned to look at him for response.

Sighing, he returned the bookmark to the pages and stood up fully. Honestly, he had wondered that question too with no answer.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. If I was part of a race that didn’t want to be found, I wouldn’t think leaving a trail to me would be smart. But then again… no one is perfect.” Shawn looked back them over his shoulder as he showers a map of the town and surrounding areas.

“If the Drakon are real, they may have become extinct because of The Rings or they are so deep into the valley, no one has managed to find them.” He heard the murmuring of the class getting more intrigued by this conversation.

“Unless they still need help but don’t know who to trust to ask for it.” The voice came from a girl with skin the color of milk chocolate and bronze. Her hair was an unnaturally shade of garnet with maroon highlights in a high ponytail of sweeping and writhing curls. Her eyes were an unusual shade of emerald, green with violet blue flecks closer to her pupil.

She looked at him as if daring him to challenge her statement. He blinked just as the class began to groan and laugh, not unlike hearing a bad joke at a funeral. He glanced at the clock and figured how he was going to start their weekend and redirect the class.

“Since we are unsure, let’s do this. Bring me back 3 facts you can find on the Drakon and we will go over them in class Monday. Each fact needs to have a piece of information that supports it being real and the other supports it as mythology. Be ready for Monday and have a good weekend!” the class groaned louder and grumbled as they packed their bags and left as the bell rang above them.

“Seyla, please stay here after the bell.” She looked at him and blinked at him, emerald looking unphased by the request; it almost felt… expected. As the classroom emptied leaving him and the student alone, he shut the door and had her move to the reading corner by the windows next to his desk.

He had created a small alcove with two semi plush chairs the students could relax and read in if they were having a rough day. It also was cozier for teacher meetings with the student or a parent, so they were on the same level, no hierarchy or size dynamics involved. Motioning to the seat, he sat down and looked at her, wanting her to follow his lead. She sat down gingerly as her hair swayed an extra beat before settling once again. There was silence as he gathered his thoughts.

“You believe the Drakon are real.” The girl spoke softly and looked at him with eyes older than time. Her eyes unsettled him because the spoke of times far gone and yet…

He found himself answering before he could think.

“Yes. I have always felt they were. Proof was just the hard part.” Surprised by his honesty, Seyla looked at him again in wonder. Shawn was also wondering what he was doing answering these questions without thought of consequence. They sat in quiet again before he saw her push the sleeves up her arms. He assumed it was heat related but the glimmer caught him off guard. Along her wrists were fine lines of gold and burnt orange in the shape of panels. Really, they looked more like… scales? Shawn’s eyes frantically looked at her as she looked out the window. Faint lines like on her wrist appeared on her neck, up to her jaw near her ear to feather gracefully to her temples.

Taking a deep breath in before slowly releasing it, he removed the glasses and leaned back. He sat quietly thinking before leaning forward again, this time, he was prepared to ask questions and listen.

“It is hard listening to my history with inaccuracies and stories untold. I’m sure you can respect that Mr. Shawn?”

Seyla had the shape of a slightly taller 11-year-old girl of African American descent and here, she held herself in a manner befit of the world’s leaders. He looked at her slit pupils and took comfort in knowing that he had seen part of the truth that cost him so much.

“Seyla, I apologize that the tale of your kind has been made into fictional fodder for English Literature. I spent years thinking of how this tale seemed…” he trailed off because the word he would use was completely and fully inadequate. “Incomplete? Fictionally redesigned? Honestly, it came off as pipe dream that someone failed to capitalize on.” He sighed before moving to his desk and rummaging in one of the drawers until he pulled out a binder with a journal elastic banded to it.

The pages of the journal were a faint beige that only could be noticed as it laid haplessly next to the white pages in the ‘Lore of Drakons'. The binder had pages hanging out and was full of pages in colored dividers, various folders and quickly jotted notes crammed between pages with no rhyme or reason. The green and blue orbs watched as he opened the bindings and flipped through until something caught his eye. Opening the metal fastenings, he removed a folder and a folded map.

The young lady recognized the map as of the valley to the east. She also understood the markings for the various ranges and landmarks at the town’s perimeter. She looked at Shawn in what he only could gather as disbelief and cautious hope. It was mix of expressions that fueled his research.

“For years, as I read and researched this lore, I felt the incompleteness of it. It felt that not only was there more to the story, but there were also inconsistencies that made it all seem…. lab created?” He stopped and looked at Seyla. She had tears running down her face as each word he uttered slammed into her core. She had waited for this moment since her Elder placed the task in her claws many moons ago. They had been blending with the race called humans for the last 2,734 moons, passing lunar cycles, and praying to the Ancient Ones for salvation. The lore spoke of a shift that was stuck; a Drakon stuck in shifted form. It spoke of how the shift would be from a time that no longer knew the ancients but felt the call of the Relics.

Reaching under the neckline of her shirt, her hand enclosed around a small object. Its natural, radiating heat felt comfortable even in the human skin covering. Pulling it out, sat a brilliant, reddish-pink chunk that flashed and glimmered like a solar flare, bursting with a life of its own. His eyes widened as he recognized the item. Seyla removed the treasure from her neck and held it out to the man, his hands trembled as if the relic was easily destroyed.

Shawn swallowed down a gulp of air and nerves, silently praying that his heart could withstand being in the presence of everything that guided his passions in life. Even with calming breaths, his fingers shook as the pad brushed the lovely scale. It was warm, pulsating and thrumming with energy. Other fingers joined the first and he closed his hand round it, immersing himself in the vibrant glow of the relic with the wonderment of confirmation. Taking notice, Seyla grabbed a book from the small bookcase and sat it atop of his research notes as she motioned for him to place the held item down. He absently saw the cover for “Can I Keep a Dragon As A Pet?” As if made from the thinnest glass, he sat it down only to jump up in surprise. The moment the scale touched the book, it smoked and caught fire. Acting quickly, the English teacher moved the stone and tried to put out the fire before it spread. Emerald and violet blue watched, the small frame shaking as a tiny hope bloomed deep.

“Mr. Aerelynn… is the scale hot to you?” her child like words delivered with such a mature and awe filled voice made him stop patting at the faint embers before looking at the treasure again. Rotating the bobble and considering it carefully, he met her eyes again and shook his head. A mouth full of white teeth showed on her face, even though the appearance of more draconic canines lessened the sweet and cute factor more than he’d openly admit.

“Our Elders were right!” her silky voice was a whisper wrapped in glee. Standing abruptly, she grabbed his hand and looked up at him. Her curls twisted and shook as she practically shook like a bottle rocket before launch. Her eyes were sparkling like sea glass with unshed tears as she quickly wiped them away.

“Our race, the Drakon… we never went to war with each other. We stayed trying to search for a cure. Elder Grizerda sent me as fledgling Speed Glider and Shift Master to track down our Clutch Heart. The Clutch Heart was the Drakon that could only be in shift form. They can withstand our homeland’s various habitats but never looked like us. They were rare gifts by the Ancient Ones to gain wisdom from the human race to teach us. We are taught ‘Survive where survival is key.’ Help us Clutch Heart, help your kind.” Shawn heard her but his brain stopped processing at the point of “Clutch Heart.” He took a moment and looked at the human like inhuman eyes staring with hope. So full of hope, a pleading expression better left to small dogs, stared him down until he squatted down and removed his glasses.

“I…” the English teacher stopped, and a perplexed look wrinkled his brow in thought. “I’m not a scientist. I know nothing about medicine outside of slightly better first aid. I can help set a broken bone and help bring a fever down on a human. How do I help heal a Drakon that has a different body composition than me? Will it get sick if it has NSAIDs like naproxen and ibuprofen? How do you fix a wing if it breaks or tears?” the girl watched the man ask questions, almost as if the questions would answer themselves. She felt the hope wither some but felt her back straighten. Gripping his hand tighter, she let steel enter her eyes as she pierced him to his core.

“You try to survive where survival is key. We don’t want magic. We need someone who will help stop this plague.” She stood tall with fierce determination as her eyes lit with flames of conviction. Her voice was strong and held a rough, gravely tone that flowed like an undercurrent. The man knew what she was getting at and he understood what was to be lost.

“I am ABSOLUTELY terrified that I will lead destruction to you instead of helping the Drakons’ survival. What if my questionable 37 years don’t measure up to what is needed? There is too much to lose.” The hand that held Shawn’s own slackened as he figured. Seyla was a child. A Drakon, but a child none the less. No child wanted the words of an unsure adult. Especially one that was supposed be so important to their existence.

“And even more to gain, Mr. Aerelynn. It’s very scary for me to trust someone with my home too. To need a stranger to help us survive when all I’ve been taught is how to survive. To show someone our world and risk leaving a trail that brings them to our hearth. I am very scared, but… I have to try. If I don’t, I may end up alone.” His heart broke at her voice. How she went from the race of dragon like creatures with thunderous roars to sounding like a wounded child killed his argument. Her shoulders hunched in and over and head cast low was so wrong to him, so very wrong. He pulled her by her slack hand and hugged her before brushing her tears away from the orbs. Standing up, he squared his shoulders before packing his research away and taking one last look around before stopping before her.

“Are we ready to go?” the heat of her was intense beside him. How he missed that with the previous hug, he had no idea, but that evening had been a rollercoaster. So many things had changed, been revealed, and even created more intrigue, his starting point was unknown until the fledgling beside him put him there. Taking one more look around, his eyes settled on the book with burned pages and cover before looking at the child again.

“What did that book do to you?” the green eyes looked back before meeting him with a thinly veiled look of disgust.

“I am a Drakon… not a beagle. I am not meant to be tamed as a pet.” Shawn looked at her and she looked every bit the disgruntled adult shrunk into a kid’s size package. Her nose was turned up as she looked away as if the book’s very existence should be erased from the universe.

Shawn chuckled as he led her from the room with a guiding hand on the back of her shoulder. There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, but Shawn Aerelynn had an adventure 30 years in the making waiting for him to make the first step.

His guide? A small, African American assuming, shifted, Vulcan Drakon, garnet curls, Veridian green and amethyst eyes, the will of her race and his faith to restore what was left unsaid in ‘The Lore of Drakons’.