1.2.2 For My Friend
Into the evening, the crowd edged their way to the map to
point out the neighboring valleys where their relatives lived and the exotic
places at the edges of the map that they knew only from stories. While they
oohed and aahed, Astrid wandered the Manor Hall, her hands running across the
intricate carvings on the columns that told the story of their trek from the
South to flee the tyranny and slavery of the Old Empire and woodcuts of their
beautiful valley. And as she wandered she sang softly to a harmony that seemed
to emanate from the walls.
When the sun set and the crowd thinned, Skye came to Astrid.
“Time for bed, hon.”
The pair left the Manor House followed by the hum and Astrid
turned to see her little dragon on the roof, still humming to her melody.
Astrid and Skye walked home, past the craft halls built into
the cliff faces and the homes along the trails to the valley floor, each
transformed into masterworks by the craftsmen that their fertile valley could
afford. And carved on each
doorway lay the history of the family or craft that lived within.
Entering their house, Astrid quickly grabbed the remains of
dinner before her father could return it to the pantry.
“You’re late,” her father said.
“We stayed at the Manor House, hon,” Skye said. “People kept
coming to see Astrid’s geography project.”
“Little Wing was there on the roof,” Astrid said with her
mouth full.
Jorie looked at his wife and raised his eyebrows. He turned
a chair around to sit opposite Astrid.
“Hon, we need to talk,” he said. “The
Choosing will come and—”
“I don't care,” Astrid interrupted, shrugged and took
another bite of dinner.
“You like to draw,” her father said. “There is an
apprenticeship open in Pottery now.”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “There is no sunset on a vase,
father,” she said.
“You might add one,” her mother replied.
Astrid paused mid-bite and looked away as if considering it,
and then shrugged.
Skye looked at Jorie again. “Your teacher said you might be
a Rider.”
“Really mother,” Astrid replied with disdain and rolled her
eyes again. “Riders are all lazy and arrogant, like they are special. And they
treat the dragons like beasts.”
Her father smiled at her perception. “Not all,” he said.
“Your mother rides.”
“Mama’s different,” Astrid said.
Skye smiled broadly at the compliment. “There's time yet,
dear, but think about it,” she said. “You will need to do something.”
“I'll think about it,” Astrid said to please her parents then
immediately forgot. When the last morsel was gone, she frowned and sighed, and toyed
with a pea left on her plate and sighed again.
“What’s the matter, girl?” her father asked.
“Papa,” she said slowly, “Little Wing is sick and can’t
fly.”
“Even a little?”
“Not even a little.”
“I think it’s the herb, hon,” Jorie said.
“Wolfberry,” Skye said, removing the dish from Astrid.
“Dragons need it every day,” he said. “That's why they only
live in a few valleys.”
“He’s not strong enough to search for it outside the valley
like the others,” she said quietly, watching her moccasins trace imaginary
patterns on the floor.
“Maybe he just needs
more of it than the others,” Jorie replied.
Astrid's face brightened. “Why don’t we grow it here?” she
asked.
“It will not grow in the valley, dear. They tried many times
and it just withers.”
“But he’ll die, papa,” she said with worry in her voice.
“Maybe not. I think he’ll just stay small. The dragons bring
some to their elders and they will share with him.”
“He will not steal from the old ones,” she said, “and
there’s not enough fresh when they are done. He wants to fly with the others
and he’s sad all day long.”
“How do you know he’s sad?” Skye asked, but Astrid just
shrugged.
“I do not think we should intervene,” Jorie said, “It’s just
their way.”
“Humph,” Astrid said, glaring at him with her hands on her
hips. “Well, it’s not my way,” she said and stormed out to her room.
***
“I give up,” Selina said and kicked a clod of dirt. “We’ve
tried everything.”
“Just one more,” Astrid said.
This was their fourth attempt to grow wolfberry in the
valley and the summer was almost over. Each time they planted they varied the
fertilizers and supplements. And every night they stayed in the grove near the
garden with Little Wing to protect the shoots. But the plants did not grow
strong: they died, just like the hundreds of other times the valley folks had
tried to raise wolfberries in the valley.
“It's not your fault, Astrid,” Finn said. “It's the soil.
They failed to grow it here hundreds of years ago and gave up trying.”
“One more try, Finn,” Astrid said.
Selina shrugged and dug her shovel into the dirt to continue
the furrow. “I wish I had a partner like Little Wing,” she said.
“He’s not really my partner,” she said and planted a shoot
of wolfberry and covered it carefully. “He's just a friend.”
“Phew!” Finn said and held her nose. “What is that stuff?”
Astrid looked at her markings on the bag. “Eggshell and
guano."
“He could be your partner,” Selina said.
Astrid frowned. “No,” she said, “he can’t fly, and even if
he could he's too small to carry me.” Astrid looked at Selina with a shy smile.
“You want to ride too, don't you?”
“Oh, more than anything!” Silena replied with excitement but
then quickly frowned. “But the dragons don't seem interested in me at all.”
“They're not interested in most of us,” Finn said. “Little
Wing seems to like you, he...”
Silena interrupted. “He'd pick, Astrid,” she said. “He
follows her around like a puppy.”
“Only sometimes,” Astrid said. “When he's bored, or hungry,
he finds me. The dragons ignore him and the valley folk treat him like he’s a
tree in the middle of the trail.” Astrid looked down.
“In the way?” Finn said.
“Yeah,” Astrid said and stopped planting. “Like me
sometimes.”
“Why do you think that?” Finn asked.
“I don't know what I want to do.”
“The Choosing, huh?” Finn said.
Astrid nodded. “Everyone else seems to have some grand
purpose and I just want to draw.”
“And sing,” Selina said with a smile. “Choosing should not
be a problem: they always need people to turn the compost heap.” Astrid pinched
her nose and looked away
Selina pointed to Astrid’s latest batch of fertilizer. “It
can’t be worse than this,” she said then stabbed the shovel into the dirt
again. “If you want to stop them from choosing for you why not declare to be a
Rider?”
“Without a partner?” Astrid replied with a frown.
“Sure, why not?” Selina said with a grin. “Just stall.”
“Is that what all these experiments are about?” Finn asked
and cast his hand over the failed wolfberry plots. “So you can ride?”
Astrid nodded, her head still lowered. “I want Little Wing
to fly. Then maybe…” She looked up to Selina’s face with a smile. “You could go
to them,” she said. “You could find a stray.”
Silena opened her eyes wide. “Really? Search the wilderness
for a dragon?” she said. “My dad says it’s a cruel life out there in the peaks
without valley folk. And mom says the boys out there go wild and unfit for a
young lady.”
“Oh, so you’re a lady now?” Finn teased and Silena swung the
shovel at him.
“Jenks would find you,” Astrid said, talking about a young
Rider.
Silena blushed and frowned. “I'm jealous of him,” she said.
“He’s partnered with a dragon already and they’re off flying most of the day.”
Her voice softened. “Don't worry about the Choosing, dear. You have time, and a
mission will come to you. That is, unless Little Wing whisks you away first.”
“How do you talk to Little Wing?” Finn asked.
“I don’t.”
Finn frowned at her. “Little Wing always seems to be there
to meet you,” she said.
“When he wants, not when I want,” Astrid said.
“Really, Finn, I don't do anything.”
Silena stopped digging and crossed her arms on the shovel.
“Some people say you are The One, the Speaker to Dragons.”
“The what?”
“Your mom didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“The old ones think a person will come that can communicate
with the dragons and lead them.”
Astrid smiled. “Good luck telling dragons what to do.”
“Some people say it’s you, that you're The One.”
“Why, because I sing to them?”
Silena shook her head. “Because they listen.”
Astrid was quiet with a distant look in her eyes and then
she looked at Silena with a playful grin. She puffed out her chest and waved
her arms like a warrior. “I command the dragons,” she said with as deep a voice
as she could muster, “Fly, my minions!”
Selina looked down. “Don’t make fun of me. I didn’t start the rumor.”
Astrid put her hand on Selina’s shoulder. “It’s not you,” she said. “It’s just a silly idea. They're not a flock
of birds to follow each other or a human.”
They talked into the night as they worked and fell asleep
tucked under the little dragon’s wing.
***
...to be continued ...(c) 2015 B. R. Strong, Jr.
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