The Dragon's Kiss

Plumes of dust roamed the barren landscape like brigands, weaving in and out of burned out homes and charred skeletal trees. The road, once the busiest road in Grephon, was empty and barely discernible from the dusty fields. This was a dragon's landscape. The aftermath of war. It was like this over most of Grephon's southern borders and Elya knew it would creep ever northward, like a plague, until it had consumed her homeland.

She rode a slow, steady pace. Outwardly she seemed relaxed in her saddle. Inwardly her stomach churned with nervous expectation. She carried fear -- she would be the first to admit it -- but it was buried deep inside. She knew what dragons were Capable of doing. The evidence was all around her.

It had been two months since the first dragon attacked Grephon and since then war had consumed the land. The Besphian General Diadolese sent two legions, only to see them wiped out. The remaining knights of Grephon had been despatched and Diadolese sat and read the reports of their demise. Chaff to the whirlwind. Not a single survivor.

The warm winds caught her long red hair and it rocked against her shoulders like waves crashing against a rocky shore. She reached into her saddlebag and fastened a greenstone clasp around the fiery mane. She brushed a few stray strands from her crystal blue eyes and squinted at the horizon. It seemed endless and she began to question the wisdom of her journey.

They laughed at her as she left. ‘And why not’, she thought. She was sixteen years old. A girl. An orphan child taken in by a benevolent General who had known and respected her father. She was not even strong enough to hold a knight's broadsword. How could she hope to kill a single dragon, never mind a host of them. But Diadolese had listened to her request.

"How will you defeat a dragon?" he asked.

"With courage," Elya replied.

"But you have no weapon. No armour. You have not the skill of my legions or of your native knights."

"Everyone you have sent against the dragons have had those things and have died. A sword will not harm a dragon and armour will not protect me against them. But I do know how to fight a battle. I do know how to wield a sword and fire a bow. And I have the heart for the battle. I have all that you taught me."

Diadolese sat her down beside him as he had so many times since she was six. "Elya. I do not wish you to go, but I can see in your eyes that you will, whether I give my leave or not. So I will ask you simply. Why go? Why now?"

"Because the time is right. I feel it inside, as you knew when the time was right to attack, or to retreat, or to stand still. Now is the time to take the fight to the enemy."

Diadolese looked into her eyes and brushed the soft silken skin of her cheek. He had no daughters, and his sons had not the ability nor the desire to follow in his footsteps, yet this girl, who he had taken into his house as an orphan, had both the desire and the ability. He knew he would lose her if he let her go, but he knew he would also lose her if he tried to stop her.

"Very well." He rose and unbuckled his sword, driving a hole into the leather belt with his knife so that it would fit around Elya’s waist. "This is the sword I have carried with me into every battle. It is the lightest and strongest Besphia ever made. It will not kill a dragon, but it will protect you from brigands along the way."

He rode out with her along the causeway of Soaena – his home for the last ten years – and said his final farewell at the city gates.

"Beware the dragon’s kiss. It will kill you as it did your father."

Then she left on the road south into Grephon. There had been no fanfares. No tumult. No waves. Only vacant stares and whispers. ‘She’s just a girl!’ ‘And a southerner at that!’ ‘She’ll be dead within a day!’

It had been five and she had managed to evade death, though soon it would catch up with her. It was least another five days to the border of Pelyr and she had enough water to last the day. She had hoped to replenish her supply along the journey, but each well and spring bore the taint of sulphur and blood. Everything here was dead and diseased.

She brought the chestnut gelding to a halt on the broken road and sipped lightly from her last flask of water. She replaced the stopper and a shiver ran down her spine as a shadow engulfed her. She looked up as a black dragon swooped and circled. Its graceful, slender body landed ahead of her, its silvery wings folding against its torso. Elya eyed it up carefully, resting her hand against the pommel of her sword. The sword would not help her though. Swiftly she reached beside her for the bow, but a huge talon knocked her forward, pulling her out of the saddle and dropping her to the ground. She felt the wind knocked from her lungs as her shoulder hit the rubble and she gasped for air as she watched the second dragon snap up the horse and cleave it in half. The aquamarine dragon swallowed half the horse as the black dragon reached out for the other, chewing on the animal before spitting out a couple of bones. Licking the blood from their snouts the two dragons eyed her up.

"I know her," the black dragon growled deeply.

"She is familiar," the other replied in a smooth, fluid voice that rolled like an ocean wave.

The black dragon closed in on Elya, whipping its tail around until it smacked Elya on the back of her neck. Elya felt the world go dark and crashed against the broken cobbles of the road.

*****

Her eyes opened to a vast crystal plain surrounded by the crystal peaks of Pelyr. Home of the southern dragons. As her eyes focused her heart sank. Dragons of all sizes and colours surrounded her. Each one eyed her up, some with suspicion, some with curiosity, some with a look of hunger. The huge black dragon lay prostate directly in front of her, his eyes closed, his head laid gently on his folded talons. Beside him sat the aquamarine dragon, rocking her head gently from side to side. Elya swore she was smiling. What now? she asked silently.

She should have been filled with fear, but she was not. She was surprisingly calm, her thoughts clear and distinct. She just didn't know what to do. She couldn't possibly attack, but then again, if they had wanted her dead, she would not be here. Either she was here as sport, or some deeper threads were at work. Let's test the waters, she reasoned.

She reached for her sword, drawing it swiftly in front of her, but as soon as it had sprung free of the scabbard the huge black silverwing pounced, snatching the sword and crushing it between his teeth. He spat the remains onto the crystal plateau, nothing more than dust caught up in the gentle breeze sweeping across Pelyr. Silverwing returned to his previous position.

"Foolish child," he growled, his eyes closed as if asleep.

Defenceless, Elya took the only strategy left open to her.

"I am Elya, adopted daughter of General Diadolese of Besphia. Who speaks for you?"

The dragons looked at each other in puzzlement.

"No one speaks for us child," the aquamarine dragon said softly. "But I will speak with you. I am Seaspinner."

"She is no child of his," the silverwing muttered to himself.

"What do you wish to speak about?" Seaspinner asked, ignoring the silverwing's comment.

"Why do you wage war against Grephon?"

"We do not. We wage war upon Diadolese."

"For what reason?"

"He is our enemy. Why else?"

Elya could already discern how the discussion would be controled. Elya's dominance would be unravelled by the dragon's pedantics.

"And do you wage war upon me?"

"Are you our enemy?"

"You destroy the homes of my people. You murdered my father. You are my enemy."

"You are not our enemy. You are our friend. That is why we brought you here."

"She doesn't know," the silverwing growled.

Elya could feel her control over events slipping. She felt as if she were being constantly pushed onto the defensive.

"I am no friend of yours," she said, venom filling her voice.

Seaspinner fell silent and looked at each of the dragons in turn. Then she turned to face Elya.

"Your father was the Heartstone, was he not?"

"Yes he was," Elya replied. She felt her emotions rising inside her and fought to control them.

Seaspinner bowed before Elya, lowering her head onto the crystal floor. "You are most welcome among us, daughter of Heartstone."

"You mock me," Elya spat.

Seaspinner looked shocked at the accusation. "Mock you? We honour you, as we did your father."

"It didn't stop you from killing him."

This time a look of horror spread across Seaspinner's face, but before she could reply the silverwing pushed her out of the way, his snout almost touching Elya’s face, his breath rank and stale.

"What if we did? What would you do?"

Elya gathered together her courage and her rage and stared into the black beast's eyes. "I would kill you. Each one of you."

Silence followed the threat, neither Elya nor the silverwing giving ground. The other dragons were held captive by the contest of wills, as if their fate rested on the outcome.

"Enough," a white dragon sat on a raised plateau said, his voice regal and soft. "Leave us."

One by one dragon wings opened and one by one the dragons lunged into the sky. All except the black dragon.

"I hope you have your father's heart," he growled and Elya felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Then his great silver wings opened up and with a rush of wind and a clap of thunder, he was gone.

"You must excuse Silverwing," the white dragon said quietly. "He carries a great burden inside. I fear that one day it will become so heavy, he will fall into the ocean and never rise from its depths."

He stepped down from a raised shelf of blue crystal and laid down in front of her, his head nestled on his front claws.

"I am Cloudrider. So you are the daughter of Edric Heartstone. Strange that you should call yourself the daughter of Diadolese. A shame that you carry so much anger toward us."

"What did you expect," Elya replied, her sense of calm returning. "Flowers and forgiveness?"

Cloudrider smiled. "No." He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "We did not kill your father. Edric was a dear friend and a valiant man. We loved him."

"You are a very skilled liar."

"I do not know what you have been told, but you have been told falsely."

Elya made to speak, but Cloudrider brought a talon to her mouth. She expected it to be cold and callused, but to her surprise it was warm and smooth.

"Now is a time to listen."

A sudden wave of calm washed over Elya. The last traces of her anger melted away. Cloudrider removed his talon and resumed his relaxed position.

"Your father was a knight of Grephon. A noble, courageous and honest man. He saved a dragon named Heartstone, my mate, and for his selflessness, she gave him the dragon’s kiss."

"So you show your gratitude by endowing madness."

"In ancient times it was a gift sought after by kings. To them it brought madness and death. Then we ceased giving the gift. It is the rarest of gifts now. I am over four hundred years old and I have known it bestowed only twice during my lifetime. Your father was the first." Cloudrider sighed. "Diadolese was the second."

"You lie again. Diadolese warned me of the dragon’s kiss."

Cloudrider looked past Elya into the distance. Elya turned and saw a black shadow circling far away and knew it was Silverwing. They watched him circle and swoop, climb and dive, glide and soar. Elya was filled with awe at the grace and beauty of his movements.

"You have heard the name Goldenbrow?" Cloudrider asked.

"It is the surname Diadolese took when he conquered Grephon. In honour of their valour against him."

"Goldenbrow was Silverwing’s mate. Diadolese captured her. Then he tortured her until she bestowed upon him the dragon’s kiss."

"Yet another lie," Elya said, yet inside she felt a twinge of doubt. "Goldenbrow has born that name for six years. Why have you waited so long to exact your revenge."

"Silverwing demanded revenge, but we counselled together and agreed that revenge was not the answer."

"What changed your minds?" Elya asked, failing to capture the sarcasm she intended.

"Three months ago a fire dragon came here. He was the last of his kind and he died within days of his arrival. Diadolese had hunted them into extinction. It was then that we decided the time was right. We felt justified, but we could not kill Diadolese. His palace at Soeana is filled with the bones of the fire dragons. He has turned the city into burial ground, sacred to us. So we attacked the Southland’s hoping to draw him out, but he did not come."

"He is wiser than you thought."

"He is. We were naive to think it would be so easy."

Elya heard the sorrow in his voice and the two sat in silence. She weighed up what she had heard against what she knew of Diadolese. He had been merciful to Grephon. She knew of Taranto’s other generals. They were brutal. Diadolese was not. He had brought culture and science, justice and mercy. Grephon had not suffered under his leadership. And she knew him. He had taken her in as his own. He taught her, loved her, listened to her. She had been six when her father had died. He had been all she had in her small world, yet he was a only a memory now. Diadolese had been her father for ten years. It felt so real. How could he be the man Cloudrider had described, yet she had doubts.

She expected to find Pelyr full of vicious monsters and instead found a dragon carrying a great burden, a dragon whose manner was wistful and graceful, and a dragon whose every word was carried on the winds of sorrow. Cloudrider had never raised his voice. Never hurt her. Never threatened her. She knew enough to know what that said about the dragon.

"You have heard much young Elya. Now you must discern what is true and what is not."

"How can I tell?" She asked sincerely.

"By what you feel inside. Truth burns brightest in the heart. That is where you must look. An honest heart and a noble soul will always keep hold of it."

As she listened to Cloudrider, she began to see her life through different eyes. She remembered her years at Soaena and the dragon statues that littered the city. She remembered how cold they made her feel. Now she knew that they contained the bones of an extinct race, their magic permeating the walls and foundations of the city, casting a net of protection over the general. Yet Diadolese was still a father to her. She had been six when her father had died. Six when Diadolese conquered Grephon. Six when he took her into his arms and carried her north into Soeana’s walls. He had been kind and gentle and generous and funny. She loved him. Despite his faults. Despite his past.

"What is the dragon’s kiss?" Elya asked suddenly.

"It is the giving of a dragon’s soul," Cloudrider answered.

"How is it given?"

Cloudrider slithered forward until his head lay before Elya. His eyes burned deeply into Elya’s and she held his gaze.

"Do you trust me Elya?"

Elya searched her heart for the true answer. "Yes."

"Look deep into my eyes Elya Cloudrider."

Elya knelt to hold his gaze and he let out a long deep breath that whipped against her hair. It broke the clasp holding it back and the red main fanned outward like a dragon’s wings. Tiny lights sparkled in front of Cloudrider’s eyes, moving along his snout until they reached her own. They hovered, gathering around her head and then a great explosion of light blinded her. A gust of wind swept her from her knees and onto her back. Then it passed and the air grew still. She opened her eyes and felt a presence behind them; a strange knowledge and wisdom. She looked down where Cloudrider had been, knowing he was gone. Knowing that in his place would be a breastbone shaped as a sword. She reached for the blade and lifted it above her head. It was light and easy to handle. The blade was smooth and came to a point, catching the sunlight as it sliced through the air. The hilt, guard and blade were a smooth, single piece of dragon ivory. A sword unlike any made and stronger than any that could be made. Now she understood.

She understood why Diadolese had been so fascinated with dragons. Why he sought after their magics. Why he captured Goldenbrow. Knew why the dragons had finally succumbed to war. She also understood the truth behind her father’s death.

She could almost see her father riding to see the great general, warning him against a war with Grephon. Diadolese had seen Edric’s power and saw only a threat. She knew now that Diadolese had killed her father and the truth of it tore her apart. She dropped the sword and screamed at the heavens. Tears welled in her eyes and then fell like rivers down her cheeks, gathering in tiny pools on the crystal ground.

Silverwing landed softly behind her, but she did not notice. She slumped forward, exhaustion overwhelming her. Silverwing caught her in his talons and pulled her under his wing.

"Do not fear child," he whispered deeply. "I will never leave your side."

He looked up at the sun as it set against the crystal peaks, it’s light refracting again and again as it descended, casting a net of colour across the plateau. It was Silverwing’s favourite time. He would often come here alone to witness the sunset. It soothed him. It healed him. It gave the promise of a new dawn.

*****

Diadolese slept uneasily, turning somersaults in his sleep. Goldenbrow was whispering in his dreams again. Unsettling him. Pulling him awake again.

He reached over for a goblet of wine and sipped slowly, as if his life depended on each drop. He slumped down onto the soft mattress, groaning inwardly at Goldenbrow’s torment of him. He rose and dressed in a light silk gown, then wandered out across the moonlit courtyard into his personal shrine.

He lit the sweet smelling candles and knelt before a small alter of red granite, it’s smooth, flat surface wet with oil. He whispered a silent prayer to the Gods and poured a spoonful of olive oil onto the stone. He lingered, staring into the flame of a candle. Here was the only place Goldenbrow did not torture him, though he did not know why. Perhaps he should bring his bed here.

He had an inking as to why Goldenbrow gave him peace when he knelt here. He reached under the alter, unlocking a small catch. A tray slid out from under the alter-stone, holding a maroon silk bundle. He reverently opened the wrapping to reveal two ivory swords. The twin dragon swords of Heartstone and Goldenbrow. He watched as the candle light danced along the surface of the blades, then he noticed he was not alone.

"I see you ignored my advice," Diadolese said to his guest.

"Yes," Elya replied. "Just as you knew I would."

"I am truly sorry Elya," he said, turning to look on her. "I am truly sorry for the death of your father. I wish I could undo it, but I cannot. You deserved better than the father you inherited."

Elya knelt, her tears matching his. "I know you are sorry. And you have been a wonderful father."

"I cannot undo what has been done Elya. The deeds of my life will forever hunt me down."

"As it should be."

Diadolese placed the swords on the ground and took Elya’s hands in his. "A part of me hoped you would receive the gift. I hoped that you would return and together we could travel to Besphia and rule in Taranto’s place. But I fear that the truths you have learned will prevent you from coming with me."

"I cannot follow you."

"So now I have lost my daughter."

"No. I will always be your daughter. But now I am also your enemy."

Diadolese nodded. "It is how it was destined to be Elya."

They embraced, both feeling the extra burden of the souls they carried with them. Souls that gave them strength and power. Souls that would wrench them apart.

Elya left without another word and Diadolese remained in his shrine until the candles burned dry. Goldenbrow whispered to him then, her voice a whisper, part hate, part pity, part love.

"Now your days are numbered."

*****

Almost a year later Diadolese left for the Besphian capital of Irina. Taranto died in his sleep at the general’s hands and Diadolese Goldenbrow became the second Emperor of Besphia. It was a hollow victory. The soul of Goldenbrow became a heavier burden to bear, especially on the night she forgave him. She stopped tormenting him then, and became a companion to his loneliness.

In his fourth summer as Emperor, he felt Goldenbrow stir within him, waking him from his sleep. He wandered to his balcony and in the light of the moon he saw the vast shape of a dragon, dark and foreboding. It stretched out its wings and the moon danced off the silver scales. Beside the dragon, he knew would be a girl, now a woman, who had once called him father.

She it was who had driven his armies from Grephon. Revered by the Grephonese as the Dragon Queen.

"It is time," Goldenbrow whispered.

"I know," Diadolese replied.

He returned to his room and fastened on his armour, clasping the dragon sword of Goldenbrow to his waist. He rode alone under the moon, slipping out unseen from Irina’s walls and onto the eastern plain. As he rode to meet his fate, he recalled that last night in Grephon, staring out across the campfires of Elya’s army. He smiled, proud of his daughter.

"She rides the clouds," his legions had whispered.

‘And so she should,’ he thought. ‘For she has the soul of a dragon.’

Bio:Colin J. Fenwick is a thirty-two year old father of two living in Lincolnshire, England. In addition to short fiction, he also writes screenplays.

E-mail: Irreantum@dialstart.net

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