THE ZIOLA

The steed, a gleaming sapphire with brilliant white wings, dropped out of the low hanging cloud. She opened her wings to their full breadth, balanced in the wind currents, and glided downward, finally alighting into a small, damp meadow.

The rider swung from the horse and strode straight to Nona, priestess of the dark arts.

“Yes Alrik?” she said.

As the warrior neared, he spoke fast, and with a smile, said, “the dragons have taken the bait.”

"Splendid!" Nona exclaimed. "Let us go capture our prize."

Alrik paused, said, "they are near the wetlands of the Ziola."

"I know the Ziola are active this time of year," she said, "but they should not be a problem."

Nona looked at Alrik with a knowing, conspiratorial smile, and waved to a young, stable boy who led a spirited stallion to her. She swung up into the saddle, and over her shoulder she said in a voice filled with anticipation, “our mission, Alrik, is almost over.”

The gleaming, sapphire-colored steeds charged into a gallop, moved their wings in long, slow sweeps, and broke free of the earth.

*

*

DRAGONS

“It is a trap,” Forin hissed, his golden eyes flared bright as he sensed danger and his skin darkened. "Look at those mists drifting out of the forest as if they hunt us. I tell you Skipra, it is a sign!"

Skipra looked down from the tree, studied the awkwardly moving figure stumbling along the trail.

“It is a human,” she rasped. “I thought they were much larger.”

The human emitted weak sounds, fell to the ground on its side, struggled to right itself, pushed up to a seated position.

“It is a young one,” she rasped, puffing charcoal cones of smoke into the air.

“We should go,” he hissed, “leave the humans alone.”

Her rasping voice was filled with disbelief and anger. “Leave a child alone in the forest? Are you f****** crazy?”

“Look,” she whispered with a soft rasp, “the child shivers.”

“We are not to interfere with the humans,” he snarled, swinging his vision across the surrounding forest. He unfurled his wings, raised them high over his head and gave them a quick, rustling shake.

“I know that ‘don’t mess with the humans’ stuff,” she hissed. “I will not leave the child to die.” She lumbered along the path. “We will find out soon if this child is a trap.”

Forin snarled at her, “the child is too close to the water. The Ziola fish have probably sensed its presence.”

Skipra squeezed through some trees pushing up against the faint path at the edge of the murky pond. She saw the red, blinking eyes of the Ziola lurking just below the dappled surface of the water. She rounded a bend and there was the young human, seated in the mud, slapping the pond waters with its tiny hand, emitting the cooing sounds.

A pair of red eyes glowed brighter than the rest, signaling it was ready to leap from the murky pond and drag the human in. She willed a blast of air from her lungs and a pointed tongue of fire shot out, touched the water’s surface, scalding it just above the ready to attack fish. The red eyes flared at her and then disappeared into a swirl of murk.

The Ziola, a relentless fish would leap from the water and attach to small animals with their powerful bite. Once attached to their prey, they would twist and writhe violently, maybe causing the small animal to stumble into the water where a school of fish would attack.

Skipra had once seen the horror of a small animal pulled into the water by the Ziola. The animal had screamed and struggled, for at least a full minute as the school of fish swarmed it, eating it while it was still alive. She was happy she had saved this child from such a horrid death.

Skipra willed her chest to warm, opened her wings and wrapped them gently around the human, shielding it from the bite of the rising wind. The child felt a soothing comfort in the warmth and the gentleness, its anxious cries softened and it snuggled to the warmth.

Forin, her mate, landed on a nearby, moss covered log, and scanned the area. As he calmed, his leathery skin softened to hues of green which matched the damp vegetation surrounding the pond. His yellow eyes grew dull, and he melted deeper into the colors of the forest.

“Does this look like a trap to you?” Skipra rasped, looking down between her wings to the child. “The young one is cold, and scared.”

She cradled the child in one wing, and flapped her free wing powerfully to help her move in an awkward, hopping motion from rock to rock, until she was atop a pile of boulders. From the top of the rocky pile they had a good view of the nearby terrain, and if attacked they could respond quickly with their fire.

“There,” he growled, raising his dull, green wing to the sky. “See?”

They looked up and in the sky, descending from the clouds were two horses the color of gleaming sapphires. Their manes and wings, shining brilliant white, matched the color of the heaving, cloud mountains.

“They carry the humans,” snarled Forin.

“Good,” she snapped, “we will give them their young and be relieved of our duty.”

The two horses, gently sweeping their wings, descended quickly, and hovered silently near the dragons. The humans did not move, only watched them.

Forin, eyes flashing, instinctively released a warning blast of fire.

“Forin, control yourself,” hissed Skipra rolling her eyes. “They will think we mean them harm.”

Skipra’s and Forin’s species of dragon, the Worquipa, barely larger than humans, are the smallest dragons in the known regions. They fly faster than all known dragon species, faster even than the winged horses. Their thick, leathery skin is hard to puncture and changes colors to reflect their mood and helps them blend into their surroundings. They are smaller and quicker than many large predators, and so, can hide and escape within the tight confines of the forest. They breathe fire which their body generates and can shoot it accurately at distances up to twenty feet. They have sharp teeth, a strong bite and claws, used for slicing and stabbing, on their pawed hands and feet. Their eyesight and hearing are keen but their sense of smell is weak. Due to the recent invasions of the black dragons, they are a struggling species in the wet regions to the west of the Coldar.

*

*

THE HUMANS

The horses glided to earth at the base of the rocky hill. The humans leapt to the ground and scrambled to the top of the rocks.

The tall, fierce looking human, wearing gleaming armor, and a flowing, red cape, held a shiny weapon and he moved its point slowly from one dragon to the other.

Skipra did not move. She made no threatening movements, kept nodding her head. She allowed her yellow eyes to grow dull. She did not breathe the fire.

“I am Alrik the Warrior,” the tall one pronounced, “of the Coldar.” Motioning with his sword, he commanded, “move way from the child.”

Skipra tilted her wing and the young one slid gently to the rocky surface. She wobbled back away from the child, bowing, folding her wings in front of her, and nodding as she moved.

“I am Skipra,” she rasped. She spoke quietly knowing her normal, hoarse voice would sound threatening. “We found the child on the trail near the pond filled with Ziola.”

Forin, stepped off to the side, focused on the warrior, and now in an agitated state of readiness, his eyes flashed bright yellow, smoke puffed from his nostrils.

“Do not mind my husband,” Skipra rasped quietly to Alrik. “Like you warrior, his instinct is to protect.”

The other human, dressed in a silvery gray, hooded tunic, walked in Skipra’s direction. “I am Nona,” she said calmly, “Healer of the Coldar.”

Keeping her wings folded before her, Skipra nodded, and her leathery face slowly cracked into a thin smile, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth and a red tongue which flicked out before she spoke. She felt a faint, unusual tremor within the Healer’s energy, which should have alerted her, but didn't. She said, “I feel your energy healer. It is more pleasant than the energy of our mates.”

“Of course, it is,” said Nona smiling, "they are males." She moved to the toddler which had opened its arms to her. She picked the child up, and it made happier sounds, throwing its arms around her neck. She hugged him close to her.

Nona tipped the hood back off her head revealing a silvery tone of blonde, shoulder length hair. Her eyes were large and blue, gleamed like the jewels Skipre had once seen in the mines to the north.

Nice looking, Skipra thought as smoke drifted lazily from her nostrils, for a human.

Nona spoke in a soothing tone, “Thank you for saving our son.” She paused as she summoned a painful memory, and with disarming honesty she opened her heart to them, said gently, “in another time, we lost a daughter to the forest. She was never found.” Her eyes grew moist, sincerity filled her voice, she said, “you have saved our son. I thank you with all my heart.”

Nona paused, looked at both dragons and continued in a calm, magical voice. “There are rumors that the wizard of the north, needs people to work in his mines.” She paused. “I believe that when our elders were captured our child was with them. Because he is too small to work, the Weapreda warriors, abandoned him in the forest to die.”

Skipra rasped quietly, “your people must be near because the child would not have survived for long in this forest.”

“We must find them before they reach the Forest of the Lost,” Nona said. She turned to Skipra, asked, “will you help us?”

Alrik looked directly into the yellow eyes of Forin, the growling dragon with flashing yellow eyes, and pronounced, “I do not trust the dragons.”

“Alrik,” Nona said to him with softness and understanding in her voice, “we need their help.” She raised her palm to him, a calming gesture and said, “the dragons mean us no harm.”

Skipra found Nona’s voice to be soothing, with a clear essence of magic in it. It was gentle, and inspired her trust. She felt her anxious suspicions of the humans melt away, and a soft tranquility came over her as she felt herself slipping into a peaceful, trancelike state, almost as if she were succumbing to a spell.

Yes, thought Skipra, this woman is definitely a healer.

Skipra looked to her mate and as the healer spoke, she could see his spirit calming. His eyes flashed slower than they had moments ago, and their color softened, the hot, yellow brightness fading into more muted tones.

She growled to him, in a low, menacing tone, “can we help them?”

“I do not know these humans,” he hissed, but his tone had changed; was no longer hostile.

She pulled a long breath, released two smoky puffs into the air, rasped, “their people have been captured and are being taken to work in the mines where they will die. Forin, you know the wizard of the north. His army has been moving into our territory, hunting our species. The black dragons and the Weapreda warriors have allied with the wizard.” She paused, “you know these things to be true.”

Nona looked into the eyes of the child and adjusted its blanket. Its eyes fell on her, recognized her touch, and reached for her face.

“We will help,” hissed Skipra in as pleasant a tone as her rasping voice could generate. She noticed Forin the stubborn, looking away. He was not in agreement, seldom was, no matter what the issue was.

Nona, not noticing Forin's response, said, “thank you for agreeing to help us.”

Giving Alrik a smile, a knowing look, Nona turned from the group, faced the sun and opened her arms wide to the sky. Mountains of dark clouds appeared, drifted towards them from the mountains, lightning crackled and sparked within their depths.

Nona turned to face them, only now her facial expression was harsh, angry. “You are right,” she said in a tone now filled with coldness. “The wizard does need workers in the diamond mines to the north. Most important, with the agreement of your spirit, your stated willingness to help us, you have made yourself vulnerable to one of my spells. Do not worry. The paralysis is only temporary, lasting maybe a couple of hours. You may feel ill and find it hard to breathe, but do not panic.

She announced, “I am Nona, not a healer but a priestess of the dark arts, and loyal to my father, the wizard of the north.”

With her arms raised, Nona turned in small circles until she disappeared within a churning cloud, small lightning bolts flashing within it. The cloud evaporated and the new figure was wrapped in the color of the cold, endless depths of a starless night. Her eyes, lips, hair and cloak were now the color of dull soot. Her hair flowed to the center of her back and her nails and teeth had lengthened and chipped. The change to her complexion was the most startling of all the transformations. Her flesh was now the color of a boil type infection, a sickly, pale yellow and pink.

Alrik and the “child” had also undergone the transformation of their features and clothing. The warrior held a long-handled axe and the one-time child, now an adult, held a whip which he snapped near Skipra’s face.

The flying horses, now black, pawed the ground angrily and snapped at each other.

The smell of evil was pervasive and thick in the air. It was the smell of mold, decay and death.

“The Coldar?” whispered Skipra feeling incredibly weighted down. It was difficult to talk. She willed herself to fly but could not. She summoned the fire, but could not.

In the background of her consciousness, Skipra heard Forin straining mightily against the bonds of the spell. She knew him as stubborn and ill-tempered, but also a fearless protector of her. Forin had not objected to helping the priestess, but he had not agreed to help them either. Maybe he was not bound by the spell and could escape.

Skipra’s pulse quickened as she thought she saw, but in her spell induced haze she was not quite sure, were Forin’s eyes starting to flash?

Nona laughed wickedly and spoke as if explaining to a child. “No. We are not of the Coldar and our elders were not captured. Yes, the Black Dragons and the Weapreda have allied with my father, the wizard, and we will be using your species for the hardest labor.”

“Oh,” Nona continued, “and I thought a particularly touching story was the part about losing a child to the forest.”

“Don’t you see,” said Nona with a gleeful laugh, “I made it up.”

Nona continued, clearly enjoying the telling of her story, "you are the first of your species to be captured, and as a powerful, smaller species of dragon, you will spend the rest of your lives in the dusty, black darkness of the mines, digging and hauling, creating wealth and power for us.”

“Look at the bright side,” Nona said happily, “you will only do this until you die.”

A low grumbling growl came from Forin. Nona’s sickly eyes snapped to him.

“I think someone needs a stronger spell, something with a little more pain,” Nona said pleasantly to him.

She was too late.

Forin huffed a weak tongue of fire at her, took a staggering step, another, and then he leapt for the sky. His wings moved in long but unsteady sweeps lifting him from the earth. The whip struck his side at a tender spot under the wing, tearing open the skin. He growled, the pain spurring him to greater efforts.

“The horses,” yelled Nona. “Hurry, he is still under the spell.”

FORIN

Forin, still in a haze from the spell, climbed higher into the sky. He just knew to move his wings in long and smooth sweeps and as he did his mind began to clear.

He looked to the dark, flickering clouds, and then to the mountains and made the decision where the battle would be. He looked behind him and saw the two small, winged dots rising from the forest. His mind was clear, and he was starting to feel his strength return. He released a blast of flames and acknowledged to himself how good it felt to once again, feel the power.

Good, he thought, they are following and will soon taste the scorching heat of my fire.

He eyed the rich, verdant tones of the forest which pressed up to the foothills of the mountains. He coasted downward in the wind currents, liked the thickness of the woods, and saw the pond with so many red dots circling just below its surface. He landed in a small meadow near a large boulder, the color of dried blood.

This will do, Forin thought. They should be able to find me easily.

He noticed the trees grew close together and they would not be able to bring their horses into the forest.

Yes, he thought, this is where it will be decided.

*

*

The horses flapped their wings hard, reached top speed in several moments and flew low to the forest which, at this high speed, was now a green blur.

The creature called Alrik said, “these dragons are faster than winged horses. He will escape.”

“No,” yelled Nona, “our horses are not ordinary flying horses. They are enchanted animals, and fly aided by my spells.” She looked into the distance, yelled so she could be heard over the whooshing sound of the wind, “see. Already the dragon tires. The effects of my spell are still on him. He is lowering into the forest.”

They watched the dragon, a small blur of color, open his wings and disappear at the edge of the thick vegetation.

“What if he has the fire?” yelled Alrik.

“I have already protected us with a spell. The fire cannot hurt us,” Nona yelled and pointed, “there. he landed by that large, pointed boulder.”

The two horses, flapped their wings gently, hovering near the boulder, while the riders scanned the area. The dragon could not be seen so they landed in a small meadow next to the large rock of blood, dismounted and moved cautiously at the forest’s edge, checking the shadows for signs of a movement that did not belong.

“We must leave the horses and go on foot,” Nona pronounced. “Bring your bow and the arrows of paralysis.”

They came to a narrow, clay colored trail, which led straight into the thick forest. At the entry to the shaded darkness, they found a solitary track.

“It is the track of the dragon,” said Alrik ducking low, trying to see into the shadows.

“Notch your arrow,” said Nona quietly. “When we sight him, I will shackle him with a spell, and you must shoot him. The spell on the arrows will render him helpless. My spell will enhance the paralysis and add a beautiful ingredient to his experience, immense pain.”

*

*

Forin wanted to leave tracks, a trail they could follow, so he needed damp earth and that led him closer to the pond.

The path, created by animals seeking water, wound close to the edge of the pond. On the other side of the path the forest and bushes pressed up to it, creating many good hiding areas. The priestess and warrior would have to pass between him and the pond, very close range. When they passed in front of him, he would burn them to death, a good and painful way to kill people of the dark arts.

He settled against a thick wall of vegetation. He calmed himself and his eyes ceased to flash, and their yellow color became dull, as did the color of his skin, matching the bushes and tall grass at the edge of the pond. Slowly, he melted into the colors of the forest.

He could hear them nearby, stealthily moving along the trail.

He summoned his fire as they came around the bend, but something was wrong! His chest did not warm. He huffed a small breath which normally released a small flame, but there was no fire.

His heart raced wildly. A spell, he thought. His eyes began flashing, he closed them tight and waited.

The priestess and the warrior had turned the bend and were only a few feet from him. The one had a bow and notched arrow, probably laced with a poison. Forin was trapped under the thick boughs of a tree. He could barely open his wings.

Well, he thought he knew something they had not put a spell on.

He heard the voice of the priestess. “He is near. I can smell him. Draw the arrow.”

They moved slowly, cautiously. They were almost too him.

When she was directly in front of him the witch said, “he is very close.”

He opened his eye to a slit and a slice of yellow light fell on the witch’s cloak and blinked as his eyes flashed. She looked at the blinking color, not understanding. Then she did understand, and her eyes burst wide and filled with hate. She began calling on the spirits of evil, yelling in a language he did not understand. Forin willed his front claws to stab at her head, but he could not move his arms as the paralysis was already setting in. He opened his wings as far as he could, trapping Nona against the pond and began the only movement he could still control. He began to shuffle forward.

The witch screamed as she tripped back into the greasy waters of the pond. The water was only a couple feet deep and his full three hundred pounds fell directly on her, pressing her into the muck, completely submerging her body. He pressed his snout down against her chest so his eyes could look into hers as the panic and the horror took hold of her spirit. Her eyes opened wide as she began gobbling down water, pain filling her chest.

Then, the school of Ziola attacked, furiously churning the surface of the water into a raging foam. Her mouth opened in a soundless shrieking as the Ziola, now in a feeding frenzy, tore open her flesh, exposing the warm organs to the wild attack. The crazed fish wildly tugged and bit at her face which disappeared in a stream of blood.

*

*

Forin opened his eyes and found himself laying on the mud at the edge of the pond. He rolled himself further away from the chilly waters and realized a couple of the murderous fish were still attached to him, tearing and wrenching, trying to pull his massive frame into the water. Needing air, they flopped loose and bounced into the murky red water with a splash.

Had he stayed in the water the fish would have found the small, soft spots of his body not protected by the thick, leathery skin. They would have torn him open and feasted on his organs.

He deduced that “Alrik” had fled, abandoning the scene. Had Alrik stayed, Forin knew that until the effects of the poison arrow and the magic spell diminished, he would have been unable to defend himself.

He moved to the meadow, stood and stretched his wings wide. With several flaps he was in the air, headed to Skipra, hoping she was still alive.

*

*

The guard was standing near Skipra, threatening with his whip when Forin landed nearby. He raised the whip as if to strike at him when Forin, eyes ablaze with the flashing golden color, huffed a couple small tongues of fire in his direction.

Forin growled a command, “put the whip down.”

The guard dropped the whip and Forin growled. “I command you to return to the wizard. Tell him his daughter is now being digested by a hundred Ziola. They ate her alive while she was drowning, and her last breaths were filled with agonizing pain. Tell the wizard to leave our lands or I, Forin of the Worquipa dragons, will hunt him down as I hunted his daughter. Before I am done with him, he will beg me for death, his only way out of the pain.”

Forin turned his head and released a couple powerful blasts of fire up into the sky.

The guard, hardly believing he was escaping alive, mounted the black steed and sped away, flying low over the treetops.

He turned to Skipra, asked, “did he hurt you?”

“No. I told him you would kill him if he touched me." She paused, released a blast of golden flame, said, “my fire is back. The spell has lessened.”

Forin spoke in a wild snarl. “I do not believe in dealing with the humans, but we will go to the Coldar tribe and warn them of the wizard and his armies.”

“Yes, my Forin,” Skipra said.

Forin and Skipra flapped their wings in long sweeps, lifting them from the earth. They drifted low across the dark waters of the pond, where just below the gently rippling surface, hundreds of red eyes, sparkling in the light of the setting sun, circled, and watched.