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Chapter Sixty One

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After countless days traveling through the desert as a prisoner, Vakaal had no idea where they were. They traveled during the day, and at night, they made camp. The humans put up shelters for themselves, and used basic shaping to secure them in the sands. Vakaal and his father had to sleep out in the open, under the stars. They were kept under constant watch. From eavesdropping, Vakaal knew the humans doubted they’d try to escape. They thought the pup and his father couldn’t survive the dessert so long as they were bound in those collars and manacles. Vakaal wasn’t so sure, but would not risk his father’s life upon it.

The humans gave them enough food and water to keep them going, but only just. Vakaal didn’t like the food. It was like hard, crunchy, and dry, and it was never enough to fill his belly. Since Father had a bigger belly to fill, Vakaal shared his rations and his water.  Next time, it was Father who shared. The humans were trying to keep them weak, so they made sure each got enough when they needed it most.

At least when they stopped near hand fruit trees, they could feed themselves. The first time Vakaal scrabbled up one of the trees, one of the humans yelled at him. Told him he wasn’t allowed to do that. Vakaal ignored him until he threatened his Father, watching below. Father snarled at him, but still recovering from his wounds, Vakaal wasn’t sure how well he could defend himself.

Before the human even had his knife free, Vakaal leapt out of the tree and onto the human’s back. With a furious snarl, Vakaal beat his captor over the head with the impossibly hard black stone manacles around his wrists. By the time the other humans came to their comrade’s aide, Vakaal’s shackles were bloodied. Vakaal glared at them as they dragged the injured man away. Then climbed back up the tree, gathered all the fruit he could, and shared it with his father.

When more of them came punish him, Father spoke up, using their own language. “You have an expression. Playing with fire, yes?” Father took a bite of handfruit, and then rustled Vakaal’s fur, between his little horns. “Now you’re playing with calamity.”

After that, no one stopped Vakaal from gathering his own food whenever he wanted.

Vakaal listened to them all the time. They seemed to forget he could understand their alien-sounding language. He wasn’t sure how he understood, and didn’t care anymore. The humans talked a lot about stories, and ruined places, and salvation. They seemed to expect some kind of help from Vakaal and his father. They were going to be disappointed.

It sounded like they were going to a place named The Colony, filled with humans. Vakaal was not completely unfamiliar with humans. A few times in his youth, their tribe had bartered with them. They were always friendly. These humans were different.

When they traveled, Vakaal and his father were made to keep up, or be dragged through the sand. Several of their dragons stood around them, keeping watch. In the battle, Vakaal had slain some of the beasts. Others were now wounded, and a few had trouble keeping pace. Sometimes the healthiest were sent to scout ahead, or to fly to the nearest oasis and return with fresh stocks of water.

As night fell over the latest makeshift camp, Vakaal leaned against his father. Father rested with his back against a hand fruit tree, alongside a tiny oasis barely big enough to bathe in. His father was nearly healed now, his manacled arm draped around his son’s shoulders. They shared the latest batch of fruit Vakaal collected, and talked in soft voices.

 Father told little stories, and tried to make Vakaal laugh. Vakaal knew his father wanted to take his mind off their new reality, and he was happy to do the same for his father. So he took to poking him in the ribs and making him squirm, then pinching his ear tips whenever Father covered up his sides.

Once darkness was settled over the land, some of the humans went to sleep. Others huddled around a small fire, wrapped in their robes as if unused to the chill that sometimes covered the vast desert long after nightfall. As usual, the dragons remained just outside the camp. Vakaal could not tell if they were unwelcome by their masters, or just wished for space.

During the journey, Vakaal found himself pitying the beasts. It was clear they did not serve willingly. They bore collars of smooth, black stone around their necks. Vakaal wondered if that made them prisoners, or slaves. Perhaps there was no real distinction. He also wondered if the dragons possessed shaping. His captors had put those black stone shackles on him to keep his shaping at bay, hadn’t they? Whenever he tried to call to it, something squeezed his heart, gripped his mind. Maybe the dragons could shape, too.

Some of the dragons still limped. Part of him wished he hadn’t hurt them so badly. They didn’t deserve to suffer for what their masters made them do. Another part of him wished he’d fought harder from the beginning, killed them all before they had a chance to capture his father. Vakaal knew it was his fault they were both captives, now. Father must have known he felt that way. Whenever his ears drooped and his tail sagged, or he curled up at night, whimpering, Father was there to hug him, to hold him, to promise it wasn’t his fault.

To tell him it’d be alright.

It always made Vakaal smile. Sometimes it made him cry, too. How he wished he’d done better. In their first day of travel, Vakaal saw smoke in the distance. After what the human’s leader threatened, the pup knew what that meant. He cried about it that night, praying to any gods who were listening that his people had survived, and could rebuilt their home. He should have done better. He should have protected them. His father, his people…they all deserved better.

From a distance, Vakaal watched the dragons. Most of them had lain down for the night, some sleeping beneath each other’s wings. Others slept alone. By then Vakaal knew the dragons had their own language. They spoke to the humans in one tongue, and to each other in another. Much to his surprise, he understood everything the dragons said, too. He listened in enough to know the dragons had friends and family, just like his people did. It made him sad for those he killed, and sadder still for those they left behind.

The pup swiveled his big ears towards a trio of dragons still awake. A male and female stood around a third dragon stretched out on the ground. The one laying on the sand was a female, copper and green. He recognized her, because limped a lot. Earlier that day she had to lean against another dragon to keep going. Now, they were talking, their voices hushed.

She had broken bones in her foreleg, and her wing. They were worried they weren’t healing right and taken infection. They feared she’d never make it back to The Colony. The male was starting to cry. The wounded one was his sister, and he was terrified she was slowly dying.

Vakaal’s ears drooped. He did that. He’d killed some of them, and others might yet die.

After the battle, the humans had buried their dead in the sand. Vakaal didn’t know why. His people burned their lost loved ones. But the dragons didn’t get to do either, because the humans butchered their fallen slaves. They took hide, horns, teeth and claws. Vakaal had helped butcher and skin rakaatch before, but he’d never seen other rakaatch turn away in horror.

“I should help her.”

Father shook his head, hugging his son around the shoulders. “No, Vakaal. They won’t let you.”

“But…” Vakaal tugged on his ears, whining. “I hurt them. I want to help them…I think they’re prisoners, too. Surely the Gods won’t be angry at me for helping them.”

“I know you want to do the right thing, Vakaal, but sometimes-”

Vakaal shrugged off his father’s arm, and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m helping her.”

The pup took a few steps away from his father, then paused, expecting an argument. When none was forthcoming, he glanced back. Father only smiled at him, shrugging. Vakaal flattened his ears. Was his father trying to teach him some kind of lesson? Or did he just know Vakaal was going to try and help no matter what he said? Either way, Vakaal would take it. He started off across the camp, towards the dragons.

As he neared the fire set up amidst all the tents and temporary shelters, one of the men still awake shot to his feet. He trotted over and stood before Vakaal, glaring down at him. He folded his arms over his chest, breeze tussling his hair. His furless skin looked orange in the firelight. Vakaal started to walk around him, and the man moved to step into his path again.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Vakaal tilted his head back, glaring up at the taller human. He spoke to the man in the human language. “I’m going to help that hurt dragon.”

The human glanced over his shoulder at the dragons, then shook his head. “They’re fine. Go back to your father. Get some sleep.”

“No.” Defiance rose in Vakaal’s voice. He lifted his hand, and held his palm out towards the human. “Move.”

“Look, little pup.” He unfolded his arms and pointed at Father. “Go back to him, and stay there. Or I’m gonna carry you over there and tie you to that tree for the night.”

Vakaal growled, pinning his ears back. “I’ll go back after I help her. And don’t even think about touching me.”

Deep inside himself, Vakaal reached for his shaping. It was still there, he could still feel it. Even when the strange forces squeezed his heart, his shaping was still right there, at his fingertips. Yet when he tried to call it, it was like there was suddenly a wall, blocking off his power. The harder he struggled to pierce that wall, the more it made his heart hurt. Vakaal called his shaping anyway, gritting his teeth against the pain. The shackle on his wrist shuddered, vibrating. The sand shook around his feet, stirred in a sudden breeze.

The human’s eyes widened, and he stared at the shivering manacle. “How the…”

“Take this one off. Let me heal her. Then you can you put it back on.”

Nearby, another man called out from the fire. “Do it.”

Vakaal recognized the voice. It belonged to the man who led this little expedition.

“What? But he’ll-”

“He can’t do much with the collar on. They’re going to make him learn to heal, anyway.” The man waved a robed arm. “So let’s see if he can do it.” Then he turned his head to glare straight at Vakaal. “Remember. You try anything other than healing, and it’s not you we bury in the sand tomorrow, it’s your father.”

Vakaal snarled, his ears flattened. He wasn’t going to do anything that would jeopardize his father’s life. “Just take it off.”

The human swallowed as he reached for for Vakaal’s hand. “Just…behave.” The man’s hands shook.

“Do I make you nervous?” If he thought Vakaal was scary, just imagine what they’d think when his father was finally free again. They’d be lucky if Father didn’t shape them all out of existence for what they’d done. “Take it off, already.”

When the human touched the ebony manacle, a strange pressure rolled up Vakaal’s arm. The man twisted his fingers around it, and a seam appeared where no seam had been before. Was he opening it with shaping? Maybe the humans had a different kind of shaping. Did the shiny black stone with no reflection only react to human shaping?

As soon as the manacle was loose, Vakaal pulled his hand free. A fraction of the weight that had pressed upon his chest since the day of the battle eased up. The wall blocking off his shaping opened just a little, like a door only big enough for a tiny pup. It would be enough. He walked past the humans, ignoring their stares, but listening to their whispers. Some kind of test, one of them said.

Beyond the camp, Vakaal trudged through the sand to where the dragons were made to lay, near a few swells and dunes. When they saw him coming, the two dragons who’d been discussing the wounded female hissed at him. The brother hurried to stand in Vakaal’s way, his fangs bared, claws unsheathed. Fury and fear alike burned in his eyes.

The pup froze. In the moonlight, the dragon’s long, black claws looked far more imposing than he remembered. Without his shaping, there was nothing to stop that dragon from gutting him with a single swipe of his talons. Or biting him in half. Vakaal rubbed his ears with his hands, his tail tucked. Maybe he should just go back to his father.

He glanced over his shoulder. The humans were all watching, now. Father was watching too. Father caught his eyes, and gave him an encouraging smile. The older urd’thin gestured with a manacled hand, and mouthed words. Even at a distance, Vakaal knew what he was saying in silence.

Tell the story, Vakaal.

Vakaal swallowed and squared his shoulders. He stared up at the dragon. “The pup did not come to hurt your sister.”

The copper and green dragon jerked his head back when Vakaal spoke the story aloud. A little of the anger fled his gaze. “What?”

Vakaal giggled, barely even realizing he was speaking the dragon’s own language. “That sounds funny when I say it out loud. Um…” He tapped a finger to his chest. “I’m the pup. I mean…erm…my name is Vakaal. I’m…” He rubbed his hands together, tail flicking. Sympathy knotted his belly as he glanced at the female laying on the ground. Her front paw looked very swollen and discolored. “I’m sorry about your sister. And the others. I was only trying to protect my father.”

The male dragon cocked his head. One of his horns was cracked, the other broken and missing. Vakaal tried to remember if he’d done that or if one of his sand beasts had. “I…how can you…” The dragon heaved a deep sigh. “What do you want?

Vakaal offered what he hoped was a comforting smile. He’d never felt so little before. Without his shaping the dragon could just about squash him like a tiny bug. It didn’t matter, though. They were prisoners, just like him. They’d only fought each other because their captors forced everyone’s hand.

“I want to help your sister.”

The dragon gave a low, rumbling growl. “She is…you…you broke her leg, and her wing.”

Vakaal’s ears drooped, and his gaze fell to his own feet, and the sand around them. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The dragon lowered his head to gaze into Vakaal’s eyes. As much as the pup wanted to shrink away from such an imposing gaze and so many sharp teeth, he forced himself to meet the dragon’s gaze. “I believe you wish to help, but they will not give us their medical supplies.”

“I don’t need them.” Vakaal swallowed, and pointed at the stricken female. “Can…Can I go to her?”

“Very well.” The dragon lifted his head again. “But if you hurt her…” A slight wavering crept into the dragon’s voice, as if the strength and courage he sought to project were nothing more than a bluff. Vakaal wondered if the dragon feared just how well the collar and manacles were working. “I’ll tear you apart.”

“Healing hurts.” Vakaal answered truthfully, and bluntly. “But it’s better than dying.”

The pup padded across the sand to the female dragon sprawled on the ground. Her broken wing lay at an awkward angle across her side, and her forepaw was so swollen that the small scales on the back of it were cracked and falling off. The swelling was red and angry, and her wrist did not sit at anything resembling a natural position. Her breathing was labored. But her eyes were still clear. They were bronze, even in the moonlight, and when she saw him coming, they widened. She lifted her head, staring at him.

“Hello.” Vakaal walked up to her, keeping his voice soft. “My name is Vakaal. I’m sorry I hurt you. I…I want to help you, now.” He knelt in the sand before, offering her a smile. “I can make you better, if you let me.”

“Don’t…think you could make me…much worse.” The dragon laid her head back down on the sand.

Vakaal giggled. He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, but it made him smile just the same. He laid a trembling hand on the dragon’s muzzle. She was very hot, probably feverish. He thought about her health, and somehow, he knew. Her broken bones and wounds had taken major infections after trudging across the desert. She had a few days left, at most.

The pup glanced over at his father. This was something they’d hidden from the rest of the tribe. Healing was forbidden if it interfered with the way a story was meant to end. When used to fix minor wounds and broken bones, the tales said it sapped a shaper’s strength terribly. But not for Vakaal. Father used to tell Vakaal his healing was their secret. Just as father’s true power became Vakaal’s secret.

Now, with all the humans and dragons watching, Father gave Vakaal a single, slow nod of encouragement.

“This will hurt,” Vakaal said, petting the dragon’s muzzle. “But only for a few seconds. Take a breath.”

As soon as the dragon inhaled, Vakaal unleashed his healing. He’d never truly thought about it until that moment. Back with the tribe, when he found injured animals, he just made them whole again. He wanted them to be healed, and so they were. It always seemed so simple. It was when he started trying to think about what he was doing that things got complicated, like with the stone he turned to clay. But healing? It always just happened. But now that he knew it as changing their stories, he thought of words to go with his healing.

The dragon was whole.

The sudden pain made the dragon scream. She threw her head back, her scaled body convulsing. Her forepaw twisted back into its natural form, bones knit themselves together. Foul liquids burst from the wounds, dribbling to the sand, cleansing her blood. As she cried out and thrashed, her brother rushed to her aide. Vakaal saw the male dragon coming out of the corner of his eye. He kept one hand on the female, and thrust the other at her sibling.

Her brother did not interfere.

The black manacle shuddered around Vakaal’s wrist. The sand around him rippled like waves on an oasis pond in a windstorm. The male dragon lurched to a halt as if he’d just thumped into a wall. His forepaws tangled and he tripped forward, onto his chest. He tried to stand, but could not seem to get his footing back.

Meanwhile, the female dragon’s wing straightened out. It returned to a natural angle as the bones knit back together. A few heartbeats later, and she was completely healed, if exhausted by the process.

Vakaal stood up and dusted off his hands. “There!” He brushed sand off his breaches, smiling. “All better! How do you feel?”

After a few heaving pants, the female dragon lifted her forepaw, staring at it with wide eyes. She flexed her fingers. “It…it doesn’t hurt. At all.” She twisted her long neck around, gazing at her wings. She flared them out, beat them against the air. “Neither does my wing. How did…how did you…?”

Vakaal shrugged, beaming. “I dunno. I just wanted you to be whole, again.”

For some reason, that left her looking scared again, with her ears back, and her eyes wide. But the look soon faded, and as she pushed herself up onto her paws, she bowed her head to him, so low her muzzle brushed the sand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Vakaal reached out and patted her again, then giggled at the way her neck curled. “You have a neck like a snake.”

The female dragon lifted her head again and cocked it to the side. Now she looked like a confused rakaatch. Her brother found his way back to his feet, nuzzling her, whispering under his breath, asking her if she was alright. Vakaal kept smiling. It was nice to know he’d helped. While they murmured to each other, he pivoted around his feet, looking at the other dragons. She wasn’t the only injured one.

In the distance, the humans were arguing amongst themselves. Some of them pointed at Vakaal. He swiveled his ears, trying to hear what they were saying. It was hard to decipher all the angry voices, but at least one of them was talking about something impossible. Another wanted them to put the other manacle back on him right away.

Vakaal lifted up his left hand, still clapped in the black shackle. Without thinking, he’d used it to keep the male dragon at bay. Was he not supposed to be able to do that? Maybe they thought he could only use his shaping with his free hand. Vakaal scrunched his muzzle. The more thought he put into it, the harder things became.

“I’m going to help the other dragons now.” He announced his intentions loud enough for the humans to hear.

“No! Get back here, and let us put this back on you.” The human who’d removed the manacle held it up.

Vakaal hesitated. He wanted to help the others. They shouldn’t be left wounded or maimed just because they had cruel masters. But he didn’t want to make the humans so angry they lashed out and hurt his father, either. Still…if they tried to harm his father while he only had one shackle on…

The pup bared his little fangs, growling. “When I’m done. I’m healing them all.”

“The hell you are!” The man with the shackle sounded both angry, and nervous. He took a step away from the fire, towards the young urd’thin. “If I have to come over there and put this on you myself-”

“You can try.” Vakaal held up his free arm and waggled his fingers. “But I’ll only let you if you wait while I heal the others. Otherwise I’m gonna fight you.”

In the distance, Father smiled.

The human’s leader grabbed the first man by the arm. He tugged him back a step, and called out to Vakaal. “Heal the other dragons. Then return to us.”

Vakaal replied with a single nod, then made his way from injured dragon to injured dragon. He healed them each in turn. Soon, the rest of their group was following him around. Each new mended wound was another new dragon following behind him, to watch him heal the next. He didn’t really pay much attention until he’d finished healing them all, and turned around to find himself surrounded by scaled beasts. He gulped and rubbed his hands together, staring up at them all.

“Erm…hello! I’m Vakaal.”

Rumbles of laughter ran through the group.

“We know.” The female he healed first smiled at him.

Some of the other dragons pushed forward, sniffing at him. He giggled and squirmed, their breath ruffled his fur, tickling where their noses brushed his body. One of them gently grasped his right arm, and Vakaal let the dragon examine it. He was thankful the dragon remained gentle. His slender gray furred arm looked tiny in that big dragon paw. Vakaal flattened his ears back, wondering why they were suddenly so curious. It was as if they’d never seen an urd’thin before. Then again, he’d never seen a dragon before they arrived.

Deciding to return the favor, the pup sniffed at some of the dragons, too. There was something strange about them. Their scents conjured images in his head of places he’d never seen. One made him think of what he imagined a forest might look like, another made him think of a place of endless water. He’d heard of such places, but only in the old myths and tales, in stories of the world before it was ruined.

“He doesn’t smell much different than the others.”

“But none of them could do anything he’s done.”

“It’s because I have shaping.” At least, Vakaal assumed that was what they were talking about. He held up his hand. “All my people do. The whole village.”

“Not like you.”

“You have a village?”

“Well, I…” Vakaal gulped, glancing away. “I did.”

“Oh…I’m sorry, I-”

“You should run.” The female he’d healed stared at him, lowering her head till her gaze was level with his head. “Right now.”

Vakaal sucked in a breath and stepped back, a sudden chill settling under his fur. “What? But...but I healed you!”

A pained look crossed the dragon’s muzzle. Her ears drooped and her spiny frills all squished back against her head. “Not from me. From the Storytellers.” She stretched a wing, pointing at the humans. “You must be who they’ve been searching for. If you run, right now, I don’t think they can catch you. They can’t survive well in the desert, and there’s only a few of them left with magic. You two killed the others. You should run while you can.”

Vakaal whined, his stomach twisting up. “I…I can’t.” He wrung his hands. “I can’t leave my father. I have to-”

“That’s enough!” The human’s leader yelled across the sand. “You’ve done what you wanted, and now you’ve spent enough time with those beasts. Come back here.” After a moment, he softened his tone. “Please.”

“I have to go.” Vakaal turned away from the dragons, waggling his fingers at them in a simple wave. “Bye.”

Vakaal hurried away from the dragons. He didn’t want to get them in trouble. Once back at the camp, he walked up to the men near the fire, and held out his right arm for them. So long as it kept them from punishing his father, he was willing to behave.

“Go on then.”

“That’s a good pup.” The man with the shackle sneered, grabbing Vakaal’s arm. He yanked it hard enough to make the pup wince. “Hold still!”

“Don’t call me that! And you’re hurting my arm.”

“Give me that.” The leader took the shackle away from the larger man, and eased it around Vakaal’s wrist. He whispered a few words, tapped it in a few places. The air shifted around his fingers. He was definitely closing it with shaping. The shackle snapped shut. “There. It was good of you to come back, as you promised.”

Vakaal held up his hand as a strange sort of numbness crept into him. It smothered his shaping again, but now he knew they could come off. “I’m only doing it for my father.”

“Then it’s good you keep him in mind. He’s going to need you to be on your best behavior from now on. We’re almost home, and when we get there, there will be much for you to do, and learn. As long as you do as you’re told, your father will be fine.”

Vakaal flattened his ears alongside his little horns. He turned away from the humans, and walked back to his father. On the way there, he snatched a human’s water canteen from near a tent.

“Brought you some water.” Vakaal handed his father the canteen.

Father laughed and ruffled his fur. “So you did. Thanks, pup.”

Vakaal settled in alongside his father. He scrunched his muzzle when Father leaned over and licked one of his ears. “Cut it out!” He giggled and swatted at his father’s muzzle.

Father took a long drink of water, then passed it to Vakaal. “You did a good thing tonight.”

The pup murmured. He gulped some of the water, glancing at his father in silence. A whole sandstorm of questions raged in his head, but he didn’t feel like asking any of them. Right now, he didn’t care about the stories or the gods’ punishment or anything else. He took another drink. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“It was.”

“I should have healed you while I had the shackle off…” Vakaal’s ears drooped, and he gave a low whine. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier? “I’m sorry. Maybe I can get them to-”

“I’m healed enough, Vakaal.” Father tickled him along his ribs. Vakaal squirmed and giggled as Father lifted his voice. “You need to keep your strength up, after doing something like that.”

Vakaal tilted his head, splaying his ears. “But…it doesn’t really wear me out to-”

Father’s voice was somehow sharp and soft at the same time. “They don’t need to know that.”

“Oooooh.” Vakaal nodded, then raised his own voice. “I sure am tired!” He stretched his arms over his head, and gave an exaggerated yawn, little pink tongue curling in his gray muzzle. “Exhausted after all that difficult healing!”

“Now you’re just overdoing it.” Father poked his ribs again. “And you’re speaking urd’thin.”

“Oops.” The pup settled back against his father, laying his head against his shoulder. “Are you still…” He swallowed, closing his eyes. “Mad at me? For coming after you?”

Father lifted his arm to stroke Vakaal’s ears. “I was never mad at you, Vakaal.” He gently cradled the pup’s head. “But all our choices have weight. And this…” He gestured at the camp. “And these…” He tapped one of Vakaal’s manacles. “Are the weights we now bear for our choices. One day, I hope that this will make sense to you, even if…it isn’t how I imagined it would play out.”

“Someday, this will just be a story we tell to our tribe, right Father?” Vakaal smiled up from his father’s shoulder.

“Of course, Vakaal.” Father smiled at him, then looked away, ears drooping.

Vakaal sighed. All he could do now was hope there would be a tribe left to get home too.

“Why don’t you sing something?” Father worked an arm around Vakaal’s shoulders, hugging him. “Take your mind off things.”

Vakaal smiled. He liked that idea. Though the pup didn’t really know what to sing, he knew a melody would come to him. It always did. He tilted his head back to watch the stars. The way they blinked and twinkled in the vast, clear night sky left notes chiming in his head. After a few repetitions, he hummed the tune, and when he knew it well enough, Vakaal sang. It had no words, but his voice carried the music across the desert. The song started sorrowful, but the stars shone brighter, and the melody grew hopeful.

Vakaal sang a song of hope to the sands and the stars. In the distance, the dragons sang back.

The pup smiled.