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As a child, Kolthan believed that clouds held up the sky.
Now, he could only pray that the thunderhead he was tumbling through would somehow slow the fall of his burning, battered body.
"What happened?" he wondered, only vaguely conscious of his situation. He remembered oncoming enemies. Darting, weaving through their ranks, scattering them with freezing breath and slicing claws. A brief glance to his rider, Lueran, to see if the elf was safe.
Then, there was fire, and pain. Such gruesome, twisted agony unlike anything the silver dragon had felt in his considerable life consumed his consciousness until there was only a starless void in his eyes.
That void once again filled up with the world, and slowly he began to realize his plight.
Why was he still falling at this speed? His wings should have slowed him, and even now he was pumping them as hard as he could ...
Below him, the fires of the battlefield spread out to the horizon, the most brutal, bloody conflict Arkyneth had ever seen. Dragons fought alongside many races, not always on the same sides. His kin sided with the elves and men they had grown up with, some with the dwarves, others still with orcs and goblins. All for the light of one star.
The scorched earth was speeding by below him. His momentum was carrying him so far, further than he would have thought. He fought furiously for altitude, but nothing he did helped. A battalion of white and gold, the colors of his legion, halted in their march as he passed over their heads. They pointed and called out, though their words were lost to the rush of air as he plummeted to the ground.
*******
"Why?"
Those were the first words to pass Kolthan's lips when his eyes slowly opened again. His head thundered at the amount of light in his surroundings. All of him ached. He wondered how he could still be alive, the fall that should have killed him made him wish that it did.
He scanned his environment from his prone position, too enveloped by pain to even lift his neck. The alabaster walls and low hum told him enough, he was in a healing chamber of an elven Vox Temple. There was only one temple large enough for a dragon close enough to the battlefield, The Astral Song. More of a monastery than a temple, but its services were likely commandeered by the army.
He tried to move, ever so slightly. He could feel piles of velvety pillows shift underneath him, and a soft cloth binding his forelegs to the floor. He attempted to stretch, but something was missing. Slowly, he picked his head up from the floor, and turned to face behind.
The tip of his tail came into view first, and he was able to twitch it without much strain. His hind legs were splayed out to either side, but remained solid. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he reached his back.
His wings, the pride of his life, and the swiftest in the battalion, were nothing more than stubs on his back.
He tried to roar, to cry out a lament as any dragon would. But his voice caught, and it came out a sob. Even as a child, Kolthan had never cried. His mother said he was strong, his father was so proud of him. Now hot and terrible tears poured down his long face, as he wept alone in his chamber.
Sometime after his tears were spent, the door opened behind him. He lay perfectly still, even as someone walked into the room. An elven man, aged and wrinkled, wearing the robes of a priest walked out in front of him, standing before him with a calm expression.
"You are Kolthan of Whitespire, correct?"
Kolthan only blinked.
"Your regiment sends its regards. Are you aware of what happened to you?"
Kolthan lazily averted his gaze from the elf's. He did not want to talk about this.
"An enemy catapult shot laden with black powder hit you mid flight, I am told. The battalion of the Crystal Lotus marked your descent and sent a squad to investigate. They recovered your body and sent word to us, and you were brought here with the help of the wizard Janus."
The elf paused. "I am Delinath, High Chord of the Voice. I oversaw your recovery personally. The King himself wished to speak with you if that is acceptable."
"It is not," Kolthan rumbled weakly.
Delinath cocked his head in curiosity. "He only wishes to pay his respects. You have sacrificed much to ..."
"I will not let Ser Rauvin see me in this state."
The old elf's eyes softened at the dragon's words. Kolthan wished to leap from his bed and tear the elf's eyes out, so sickened he was by the priest's pity.
"Your wings ..."
"Not a word more," Kolthan said with as much energy as he could muster.
"They could not be saved. Nothing remained to save."
"I've heard druidic magic can regenerate limbs," Kolthan spat, "did you try that?"
"Every effort at our disposal was expended in your recovery, Kolthan." Delinath placed a hand on the silver dragon's snout, looking him directly in the eyes once more. "Please believe that."
"My comrades are waiting for my return, how can I let them down?"
Delinath shook his head. "Your fighting days are done, my friend. That attack crippled more than just your flight. Your strength will never return in full, and your time with the military is over. Your commander was here not an hour ago with notice of your discharge."
Tears returned to Kolthan's eyes. "What of my rider?"
The pity in Delinath's eyes returned tenfold, and Kothan's stomach churned. "I am sorry."
It was as though he had not spent all his tears moments ago. "Then why? Why did you let me live? What do I have left?"
"That is for you to decide," Delinath said softly. "For now, the Voice has spoken, and its word is that you shall live. You are welcome here at the temple, for as long as you need."
Kolthan continued to weep, and Delinath left the room again. His eyes burned with salted sorrow, even as sleep fell over him once more and the question came to him.
"Why?"
*****
Kolthan stared up into the sky, watching the clouds drift by. He had walked on clouds with his father and brother long ago, as naturally as he would over a field of grass, as though he belonged in the sky, with the birds, and the mountaintops. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the cold dampness of the cloud underneath his paws, and see the sun from atop the storm clouds.
His eyes opened again, and the grass beneath his feet tickled his paws. The banter of priests could be heard all about him as he lay in the courtyard of the Astral Song. He had been out here for many hours.
He remained there after nine weeks. He had only been able to walk on his own for three of those weeks.
Delinath strode up to him, a loaf of bread in his hands. He offered it up to the dragon, a friendly smile on his face. The old priest spent as much time as his duties would allow with Kolthan.
"I can procure you more, if you like it," the elf offered.
Kolthan took the bread in his mouth gently, nipping at it absently. "It will be enough."
"I have heard of the strange appetites of silver dragons before, but never did I believe that even a young one like yourself would need to eat so little."
Kolthan took another tiny bite out of the bread. It was honeyed and soft, quite satisfying to his palate.
"You have been gracious to your guests, I have been told," Delinath continued, sitting next to the dragon with crossed legs. "I did not expect to hear of that."
Kolthan shrugged. Many other casualties like him had come and gone since he had awoken, either returning to the battlefield or leaving for their home. They spoke to him, offering news of the war, their own struggles and scars, and the plight of the Dragonstar. They were kind to him, and all regarded him with the same pity in their eyes.
He hated that pity, but never enough to turn them away. They all meant well.
"There is one I wanted to introduce to you myself, if that is reasonable to you," Delinath said.
"You should not waste their time," the dragon rumbled. "I have nothing to offer."
"On the contrary, on learning there was a dragon at the Astral Song, this patient was quite eager to meet them."
Kolthan sighed. Those who worshiped dragons seemed strange to him, he never understood what other races saw in his kind that drew them to dragons. They were not so different, after all, and certainly not all that special. They were simply large lizards when all was said and done. And he was definitely not anything to be worshiped.
Still, if that was all they wanted, he could give them that. "I will see them, if that's all they want."
Delinath grinned. "After you've finished eating. Trust me, you will not disappoint them."
After his meal was done, Delinath lead the dragon back into the temple. He was lead past the recovery rooms to a part of the temple Kolthan had not been to. It was smaller, but still open enough for him to enter. The room beyond was filled with beds, too small for soldiers, every one filled with sleeping bodies.
"This is our children's ward," Delinath explained to the dragon's curious gaze. "The war sees many die, not all of whom were fighting in it. We find it is best to keep the children together, to let them see one another as they heal."
Kolthan looked about the room, to the tiny, delicate faces resting on pillows. He dared not even move or breathe loudly, lest his presence stir just one sleeping creature.
"Come, your guest awaits further in," Delinath told him. "His condition is somewhat contagious, and keeps him solitary, unlike the other little guests. Do not worry, you and I are in no danger of contracting his illness."
Kolthan crept ever so gently across the room, to a pair of double doors that lead to a small, warm chamber with a simple bed. Toys were scattered about the floor, as well as several books. Upon the bed sat a young boy, perhaps no more than eight years old. His pale skin was marked by nasty red pock marks, almost matching his strikingly ginger hair. He seemed to be absorbed by the book in his hands.
"Ardence, you have a guest," Delinath said, getting the boy's attention. The boy looked up, and when he saw his new guest, his green eyes became wide as a smile spread out from his lips that brought a new weakness to Kolthan's heart.
"A dragon!" he said, the awe in his voice filling Kolthan to bursting. "I never thought I'd ever meet a dragon in my life!"
"His name is Kolthan, formerly an aeroknight with the Crystal Lotus," Delinath said.
The boy sat up, turning to the edge of his bed. Kolthan bit back a gasp, and fighting to remain composed. The boy was missing his right leg.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kolthan," Ardance said, his hand reaching to his shoulder in a short bow. "My name is Ardence Westing."
"The ... the pleasure is all mine, Ardence," Kolthan managed to say.
Delinath nodded him over to the boy, and the dragon stepped gently into the room. Ardence's gaze followed him the entire time, as though he was in the presence of divine power. The old priest stepped out of the room once the dragon had sat down next to the boy's bed.
For a time Ardence simply stared at the dragon, and he reached out tentatively to touch Kolthan's scales. Kolthan leaned his chest forward to the boy's hand. Ardence beamed as his hand met silvery scales. "So smooth, just like a mirror!"
"And strong," Kolthan said. "My scales have turned aside spears, axes, swords, and even shadebeast claws."
"Wow," the boy gasped. "So you fought in the war? What happened to you?"
"I ... lost my wings," Kolthan said. "I fell from the sky with a dear friend. He no longer lives."
"I'm sorry," the boy said, looking down to his own missing appendage. "I lost my leg to a spear wound when my village was attacked. I'm getting a wooden leg when my Itching Pox goes away."
Kolthan regarded him curiously. The boy so matter of factly accepted his loss with a stoicism that shamed the dragon.
"My papa is fighting in the war too. He's just a human though, nothing special like you. But I'm still proud of him for fighting."
"I am not so special," Kolthan said, his voice trembling.
"What do you think is special, then?" Ardence asked.
"You," the dragon said, his tears kept back only by a thread of his remaining will. "You are not as big or strong as a dragon, no claws, no fangs, no wings, but still you and those like you fight for all you hold dear. You, just a little boy, lived through something that many soldiers die from. That's far more 'special' than just being a dragon."
"You really think so?"
"I certainly do." Kolthan placed a paw on the boy's head.
"I still think you are amazing," the boy said, stroking the dragon's chest once more.
"Only because you believe it," Kolthan said, his tears falling past his smile.
********
Wanna read more?
Click here for the last story chapter I did, Dragonstorm ch. 1, New Job!
Click here for the first chapter of my longest story, The Living Stone!
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