Golden Sands

Silovar flies ahead, and Osthryn stays just behind him. The day has stretched for several hours long. Osthryn, unused to flying and emotionally overwhelmed by her and Silovar's earlier admission, begins to dread the endurance that will be required from her newfound wings on the return journey. The verdant valleys and mountainous terrain of Mountainkeep is long left behind them. Silovar notes that they crossed the border from Grosberg into Sunderland some time ago.


The landscape stretches with endless white sand, dotted by sparse and hardy foilage. Nothing grows taller than a bush here. Even the trees, though they strive to stretch for the sky, are cut short in their quest and spread their branches wide instead. Osthryn marvels at their continued survival in the dryness of this desert -- she wonders at the root systems these trees must possess to find and use even the smallest hint of moisture.


Some oases, and a lone river, are the singular hosts to much of the fauna Osthryn sees while they fly over the bleak landscape. She turns her gaze back to the fading mountains in the distance. Much of the wind from the sea, which brings the rain, must be blocked by the mountains on the border with Grosberg. This was a pattern of the weather that was well known, which is why land between a coast and a mountain, and not beyond it, is most desired. Regardless, it brings her a strange, deep joy to see the effect from the sky like this herself.


Soon the monotonous landscape begins to break. The reach of the mountains's shield against the winds has waned, since new winds can travel over the lands they now fly into. The foilage is still sparse, but it is a bit greener, and the trees are a bit taller. There are some hills with rocky outcroppings, and a few villages surround them.

Osthryn traces the roads, following them with her eyes as she imagines them joining with larger and larger roads that will meet towns and finally cities as they stretch to the distant coast. Her attention is brought from her marveling at the landscape with Silovar's abrupt stop. He hovers for a moment above the hills, taller than the ones surrounding the villages they have passed, and then he tentatively begins to land.


Osthryn follows his lead, gratefully feeling the ground beneath her. The flight was exhilirating, but she was tired. It did not help that the mid-morning suns they left behind in Mountainkeep were now hanging low in late afternoon.


She begins to let herself recede to her human form. "No." Silovar barks at her. She freezes, his shift in tone raising alarm bells in her mind.

"Not here. Trust me. Follow behind, and stay close."

Osthryn silently conveys her agreement, the ability to communicate mentally is not something that is quickly learned. At least she is able to provide legible affirmative and negative responses instead of raw emotional ideas by now. Apparently, that is a lot to learn in the time they had according to Silovar.

Silovar folds his wings flat against his back, creeping slowly to the base of the nearest hill. Osthryn mimics his movements, and follows close on his heels.

"Further back," the whisper impresses in her mind. She pauses and lets Silovar gain a few steps on her, and follows again. They round the base of the hill. A large, looming, dark cave emerges. Silovar freezes, his body tensing, his wings vibrating ever-so-slightly with apprehension.


A terrible hissing pierces the silence. Silovar rears up, his wings shooting out like sails, blocking Osthryn from view behind him completely. He hisses too, like a snake warning of a strike.

"GET BACK" his voice booms. Osthryn knows it is not only directed at her. Instinctively she scrambles backward, making herself small, pressing her wings tighter against her back. Silovar comes back down on all fours, his wings still spread wide, the hissing and spitting growing louder.

The unmistakable smell of sparks reaches her nose. Osthryn's mind unintentionally wanders to the dry foilage surrounding them, wondering if the hill will be taken up in flame.


Silovar begins to circle something, and Osthryn keeps herself behind him. A flash of gold catches her eye. And then she sees him.


The Elder Dragon is not necessarily much larger than Silovar, but the orange light blazing behind his eyes tells of a life lived long enough to strip them of whatever empathy was ever held in them. Smoke spills from the nostrils of Silver and Gold as the two beasts continue to hiss and spit at each other.

The Elder Dragon's eyes dart beneath Silovar's wings to meet Osthryn's. Silovar instinctively ducks to shield her from view, and the Elder Dragon takes advantage of Silovar's momentary lapse in concentration to lunge at his neck.

Silovar reacts quickly, kicking with his talons at the Elder Dragon's chest, repelling him. He stands over him, his wings looming, the blue glow from his eyes reflecting off the gold surface of the Elder Dragon's scales.

"Remember what I am and what I have done, Geolu, as I remember what you are and what you have done," Silovar snarls. The smoke from both Dragons fills the air around them, creating a thick haze.

"You reek of the mortal weakness, Silovar. And you bring me a mute child whose mortal stench is greater than even yours. I shall remember what you are and what you have done when you show it to me!"

The Elder Dragon lunges for Silovar again, driving his talons with an uppercut into where Silovar's shoulder meets his chest. Silovar, still standing on his hind legs, is nearly caught off balance, but he digs the talons of his heels into the ground and pushes into the Elder Dragon's talons. Osthryn backs up further, beginning to unfurl her wings.

"Stay still!" Silovar warns her. The foreleg where the Elder Dragons' talons dig into his shoulder joint hangs uselessly. Osthryn's eyes flit between the two, her panic rising. A steeling presence edges into her mind, petrifying the panic in its tracks. Trust me, she feels it say.


The Geolu's eyes glow brighter, and a cackle of glee fills the mental space the three Dragons occupy. He begins to lift Silovar off the ground by the talons stuck through his shoulder. Silovar should be in immense pain, but he hardly winces.


"Good to see you again, Geolu," Silovar snarls, his impression giving off what would be interpreted as a sardonic grin. His legs spring forward like a loaded crossbow, burying his talons into Geolu's chest with a force that removes Geolu's talons from his shoulder and topples Geolu onto his back. Silovar catches himself, and stands with his wings spread theateningly, the talons of one foot buried deep in Geolu's chest.


"I was being nice, Silovar," Geolu spits, blood spilling from his mouth, "Four thousand years I have lived, and far more have I done than you shall know. I have razed cities to the ground. I have purged the filth of our forefathers. I have shown the mortals what they should strive to, and I have built their magic on the ashes of my pride. For you to know who I am and what I have done, I should break you and rebuild you."


Silovar twists his talons in Geolu's chest, looming over him, "Four thousand years have you lived. But four hundred of them you owe to me. Though you told me naught of what they wrought, and though I owed you nothing, I brought you to the Standing Stones when you fell. Where you built the mortals' magic on the ashes of your pride, I tended it with the remnants of mine. For five hundred years have I lived, and four hundred of them are tied to you. I know you for most of my life, you know me for all the life you would not have had. For you to know who I am and what I have done, I should kill you."


The haze dissipates. Silovar steps back, removing his talons from Geolu's chest, and folds his wings back. He lands on all fours, his left arm grazing the ground as it hangs. Geolu rolls onto his side and stands back on all fours as well, his wings likewise folding against his back.


Geolu bows his head, "I remember you, Silovar, and what you have done." Silovar bows his head in turn.


Osthryn stands still, completely in awe at the display. Never has she seen anything like this. Is this what Dragons are? Violent beasts with strange rituals? Something within her recognises the sense in the violence, but she dislikes it.

"Child, I remember not who you are, nor what you have done." Geolu says.

"Geolu, I remember Osthryn, and what she has done. Never once has violence come from her. Countless lives has she saved and countless hurts she has healed. She has endured the pain of the silver, and the trial of the flame. Toward freedom she has traveled, and answers she seeks. Four hundred years she has lived, and not one of them does she owe to anyone. Five hundred years have I lived, and now the rest of my days are tied to her. She shall know me for the rest of the life I would not have had. For me to remember who she is and what she has done, she should pour silver down my throat and kill me."

Geolu bows his head, "Osthryn, I remember you, and what you have done. May you have the answers you seek."