The five stones

The five stones

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. We kept ourselves to the mountains. Away from the little Cold Ones who walked on only two of their limbs, and who had long ago possessed, and then lost, the knowledge to control us. Sometimes on blistering sunny days one of them might mistake us for a passing cloud as we swooped high above the lowlands trying to use the air to ease the competition between the sun and our own hissing internal infernos. But to them we existed only as a scarcely recalled memory, or a fleeting thought on the edge of sleep.

When we spoke to one another, which we rarely did, sometimes the past was mentioned. In low spitting tones that might be mistaken for the wind, some of the aged ones would talk about the calamity that nearly wiped our kind from the world. They only spoke of it as warning, so the younger of us, those who had seen but one century or less, could understand what happened, and know what had to be done if a similar disaster arose. So I had been warned, along with my nestmates, to stay far from the small Cold Ones who lived in the valley beneath our mountains. But I was of the very youngest brood, and I didn’t listen.

And so it was on that day when I flew to the lowest edge of the mountains, that I first saw that small Cold One. He was being beaten with a stick by a much larger Cold One.

“Boy!” the big one shouted, “Where have you lost my new lamb?”

Dragons are not known for their empathy, but curiosity can be our undoing. I flew down, past the border point, to get a closer view.

Boy did not answer, but only made a small squeaking sound, like a mouse hiding under the snow. The big one grew angrier and hit harder, but Boy only whimpered more, his pale skin now becoming patched with the colors of a thunder cloud. I was mesmerized by the scene, wondering if Boy’s outside would break, and if the ground would become that deep red color that I had heard the old ones speak of. I dropped even further down.

That was my first error. For as I glided in as quiet as a kite, the wind snuck beneath the scales on my head and a soft whistle sound crept out. Both Boy and the angry Cold One looked straight up at me. For an instance they both just stared, wrestling with their memories. Then the angry one dropped the stick he had been beating Boy with, and drew a short sword from his belt. He threw it at me like an axe. It embedded in the tip of my left wing. I whirled in pain and fell in spinning circles to the earth. I landed with a splat on top of the angry Cold One. He looked the way the earth looked when I flew very high above the mountains, but with rivers of red instead of blue. I staggered away from him, awkwardly walking on my elbows because the sword was still stuck in my wing. I tried to reach it with the talon of my other wing, and when that could not be done, I tried to pull it out with my beak. Nothing worked. I looked at Boy quaking on the ground a small distance from me. I struggled towards him. He curled up into a small vibrating ball-shape as I got closer. I stuck my injured wingtip out until it almost touched his face. He kept shaking but somehow reached out and pulled with all of his shivering strength until the sword came free from my wing. Relief poured over me like rain. The tissue around the wound healed immediately, as is the way with all dragon wounds. Boy threw the sword to the ground. I looked at him. I knew he would go down from this hill if I let him and tell his dumbstruck people that dragons still were here. I knew I should kill him. Instead I picked him up, softly in my beak as if he were a fledgling dragon, and flew him to the only place I knew of where he would not be seen by any dragons or other Cold Ones.

That was my second mistake.

The cave was a forbidden place, tucked into the side of a ravine that was surrounded by step mountain cliffs on each side. Jumbled branches around the entrance made it virtually invisible, and the only reason I knew it was there was because I had found it by accident eons ago, on another day when I was disregarding the rules of my elders, and exploring where I was told I should not go.

I set Boy down gently inside the cave. The sun filtered in between the branches of the concealing trees and dappled the cave with light. A pool of cool fresh water glistened in the center of the cave. Boy trembled to his feet and moved toward it. He cupped his hands and drank and drank, then splashed his face and neck, and over all the injured areas on his body. He turned to look at me. I curled my wings beneath my chest and made the purring sound that dragons make when they are roosting together. Boy lay down against the cave wall. I covered him with some dried fronds lying on the cave floor. He no longer trembled when I came near. He slept for a very long time.

Then came my greatest mistake.

When he awoke, Boy ate some fruits and grain that I brought for him. Then he began to look around. He rose to his feet and walked around behind the water pool to the back of the cave. That made me nervous because I did not want him to see the stone that I knew was back there. This stirred up the fire that I was keeping tame in my throat, and flame came from my mouth and eyes. It was for nothing though because Boy was no longer afraid of me, and even worse, he now stood transfixed staring at the beautiful stone that had been hidden back there by my elders ages ago. One of the five stones kept in hidden in secret places throughout our mountains. Stones stolen from the Cold Ones in an age long over. Stones used by them to master us. Stones that could let them decide where we fly and what we do. Boy picked it up and looked at it closely. It was beautiful. It filled his entire hand.

There were five stones that controlled our destiny, and now, because of me, Boy had one of them.