“Not brooding up in your perch?” Ladria asked, with an impish smile on her face.

This was the first thing she’d said to him since he’d returned from the Redstone Spire.

“My perch.” He replied with a snort. “It’s not mine. Everyone finds all the good places to climb and sit, year after year. You’ve done it too.”

Ladria nodded. “I didn’t think I would, when you told me. It just seemed stupid, the way you said it: ‘You’ll suddenly find yourself with the urge to climb to high places and look down on things’.” She looked up at him. “How else was I to think it?” She asked, but slipped her arm around his waist and pulled him against her briefly.

“I really wish I had a good spot to climb right now.” Davian admitted. “I’ve got a lot of brooding to do.”

“Don’t wish for things.” Ladria replied pensively. “You get them. There’s a Thunderbird, come all the way down from their clifftops to speak with you.”

“That’s certainly a high climb.” Davian agreed. “Did he say what he was here for?”

Ladria shook her head. “I gave him water, though.”

“I’ll see him in a little bit.” Davian replied, turning to face the smaller elf woman. “I have news.”

“A Thunderbird-” She began, but he waved it off. “It can wait. This is important.”

Ladria raised an eyebrow. “Letters from Stormheim are more important than a Thunderbird?” She asked, a smile on her face. “You really do like your arrogance.”

He chuckled at that. “A letter from Sheilah, and one from Fialla.” He replied.

She smiled at that. “Well, that is happy news. I hope they are doing well.”

Davian nodded. “Also letters from both the King and Queen. They’re... begging... for help in their upcoming war against the elves.”

Ladria adopted a complicated expression. “Husband, that is something that should be brought before a Clan meeting.”

Davian nodded. “Of course it should. But something else happened while I was out at the Spire.”

She looked up at him curiously, and then asked, “Should I get Mayrin?” She asked.

“I don’t-” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t want her to- I don’t want to upset her any more than I-”. He took a deep, shaky breath. “She’s already going through a lot.” He finally whispered.

Ladria nodded. Miscarriages happened, no matter how strong or healthy you were. It still hurt though, both physically and emotionally. Mayrin needed space to heal, and upsetting news would just dig deeper and cut crueller.

“There was a Dark Elf at the Spire.” He stated after a moment of struggle.

Ladria immediately reached back to her neck- many of the Wild Elves had brands, put there by the Dark Elves- and her eyes widened in fear. He could feel her trembling.

“Do they know- are we-” She began, but fear was catching up to her, choking her voice.

“I took care of it. He cared more about Stormheim than anything else. If he’d turned even the slightest bit towards the Redstone I’d’ve gutted him, and damn the consequences. But dear-”

She nodded. “We need to be extra careful. Extra vigilant.”

Davian nodded, but pulled her close. “We also need to think clearly, without fear driving our thoughts.”

“But a Dark Elf, here in the Redstone!” She exclaimed.

“He never even came close to the Redstone.” Davian soothed. “We need to talk about this carefully, carefully, before we bring it to a Clan meeting. If I say the wrong thing, half the Redstone will be in a blind panic, and the other half will be boiling for blood. We can’t have that. We’re not like that.”

Ladria let out a shaky breath and tried to calm herself.

“Go talk to the Thunderbird, husband. I’m going to find a place to hide for a bit.”

She was like that. Before she was a Dragon, she was a princess of the Wild Elves, and she often had to find small, dark places to hide to avoid the wrath of the Dark Elves... or worse, the masters of the Dark Elves, the High Elves. Sometimes the remembered fear would creep up on Ladria, and even the Dragon couldn’t keep her from finding a place for her to curl up and hide for a few hours.

“I’ll come find you when I am done.” He agreed.

“Find me and keep me safe, husband.” She nodded.

“Always.”

*****

The Thunderbird was an old man, his face lined and runneled with age, his skin ruddy and windblown. He was wrapped in layers of leather and furs, and there were a number of necklaces around his neck, and bracelets without number on his wrists.

“And here he is.” the Thunderbird remarked drily. “The Arrogant Dragon King.”

“I can leave, if you like.” Davian replied with an ostentatious eyeroll and a thumb over his shoulder.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve refused a summons from the Thunderbirds.” the old man agreed.

“True.” Davian agreed. “If you made it a ‘request’ and not an ‘order’, I’d be more inclined-”

“That isn’t our way, and it’s not yours, either.” The old man replied. “So we do this dance every time.”

“True again.” Davian agreed amiably. “I remember the steps, do you?”

The old man laughed. “I’d like you to come with me to the Temple of the Winds.”

“A request!” Davian remarked ostentatiously. “I’m impressed!”

The old man rolled his eyes.

Davian sighed. “It certainly sounds arrogant, coming from someone like me, but I often feel much too old to play the song and dance that’s kept the Dragons and Thunderbirds apart.” Davian offered truthfully.

“You’re right, it is arrogant, young Dragon King. Tell me that in thirty years and I’ll let you relax.” the old man retorted.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Davian rolled his eyes. “Can we go, or are we going to stand around?” He demanded.

The old man grinned. “There it is. There we go. I knew you hadn’t forgotten the arrogance of the Dragon.”

“So you’ve decided to fuck around, instead of-” Davian began, his anger growing, but the old man interrupted him.

“Let’s go, before your arrogance damns us all to suffering.” The old man stated flatly, and, pulling a walking stick from somewhere inside his furs and leathers, he began walking away.

“By the fucking Sacred Ancestors-” Davian seethed, but hurried to catch up.

As they walked, Davian eyed the man. “Nothing to say?” He asked.

“We’ll talk up at the top. All the important things need to be said up there.” The old man gestured to the tops of the cliffs. “But first and foremost and above all, I was grieved to hear of your losses.” He offered in a lower, smaller voice. “I failed you, Arrogant Dragon King. Forgive me.”

Davian pressed his lips together, but clenched his jaw.

“We’ve all had losses.”

“I’m talking about Caidi.” The old man replied. “I wanted to save her life. I failed you.”

That sent a bolt through Davian’s heart, and his hands clenched into fists.

“I didn’t see you there that night.”

“Nor would you have. You called for magic, after all.” The old man replied, “Something I know nothing about. The Thunderbird is the arbiter of Life and Death, Davian- Why didn’t you ask us?” The old man asked, his voice husky and choked with emotion.

“Why didn’t you offer?” Davian demanded. “It’s obvious you knew what I wanted, so why didn’t you-”

“My name is Morlin, by the way.” The old man interrupted. “I’m sorry, I brought up a sensitive issue. I’d meant to apologize for my failure, and instead earned your anger.”

Davian stewed in his anger as they began climbing the steep, narrow pass that wound its way up to the Thunderbird territories.

“The Dragon is, of course, the Dragon, and the Thunderbird is the Thunderbird. They are our Totems, and they make us who we are.” Morlin began talking as they climbed. “I’m used to this sort of walk, despite my age, and I have this overwhelming urge to lord it over you, because you’re struggling to keep up, to walk with back stiffened, despite being out of breath.” He stopped and leaned against the cliff face.

“The totems are changeless... but defiance is a uniquely human trait.” Morlin encouraged. “Rest a bit, Davian. Drink a little water. I will think less of you for it of course, but I will still wait here for you to rest, because I am not my totem.”

Davian frowned at that, but his chest burned from the thinning air, and it was a struggle to catch his breath.

“Defy the Totem a little, Davian.” The old man whispered. “Take some deep breaths. Steady your heart.”

“I think I’m just fine.” Davian replied challengingly.

“As you wish.” Morlin replied. “It only gets harder to climb from here on.” He turned and continued up the narrow pass, taking much longer and aggressive steps.

*****

The tops of the cliffs, the territories claimed by the Thunderbirds, were much more developed than the territories of the Redstone clans below. There were streets, and homes built from blocks of stone, roofed with thick planks of wood harvested from trees. At the center of the town was an enormous stepped pyramid, carved over and over with reliefs.

“You have this knowledge, and more besides. I wonder why it is that you haven’t shared it with your people.” Morlin wondered while Davian struggled not to gasp and heave next to him, sweat gushing from every pore.

“You’re going to freeze, or die from dehydration.” Morlin observed. “Will you defy your totem and accept a coat from an old man? Drink from his offered canteen?” He held out a long fur coat and a small wooden canteen of water. “Or are you incapable of accepting kindness from one human to another?”

“You’re not making it easy.” Davian replied.

“Of course I’m not. We are who we are, after all. But we can defy our Totems, just a little.”

“When you speak of defying my totem, it instead makes me want to defy you.” Davian replied, wrapping the coat around him and guzzling the water.

“Of course it does.” Morlin agreed. “Let’s go to the temple together, you and I.”

“...in just a moment. I need to catch my breath.” Davian finally admitted.

*****

Inside the temple was a single, somewhat large room with a large fire that burned at its heart. The walls were chiseled with spirals and waves, with zigzags and a large relief of a number of figures standing under a titanic bird.

“If that was to scale, it would be the size of an airliner.” Davian muttered.

“What’s an ‘airliner’, Davian?” Morlin asked curiously.

“It’s... not important.” Davian replied.

“I’m sure.” Morlin replied drily. “But, sit. I’ll brew tea. Since I invited you here, I will speak, and when we’re satisfied, I’ll send you on your way.” The last bit sounded incredibly condescending to Davian, as if he were considered a child.

“Well, I’ll answer your question from earlier: Why don’t I bring roads and houses to the Redstone?” Davian asked. “Because if I do, then I am the Tyrant. I would be forcing the other clans to go along with my wishes. Single-handedly trampling on their traditions.” He clenched his fist. “It will happen organically enough by itself. Things like Stormheim and the elven peoples are proof enough of that. Even the giants are capable of this much.” He muttered, thinking about the city that Sheilah had wrecked.

“If I do nothing, we all trade stories, share traditions, and eventually, when the need arises we will build a city. Create roads. Establish codes and laws and taxes and coins and all that.” He paused. “If I force it, Clans will die. Stories will be lost.” He shook his head. “We won’t be the Dragon Clan, the Thunderbird Clan, the Mountain Cat Clan, and so on- we will be the Redstone Clan, and- and I can’t countenance being the author of such a thing.”

Morlin nodded. “I can see it, you know. What it is you’re afraid of. I can’t grasp the word for it, but I know what you fear.”

Davian scoffed.

“Oh, let’s not be like this now. We’ve come so far!” Morlin encouraged. “Listen: The Thunderbird grants us boons in the same way the Dragon grants you yours. None of them are any of your business, except for one.” He paused and poured tea.

“The boon is a chance. The Thunderbird, as I said, is the arbiter of Life and Death. Each of us is given that chance: a single chance to turn death into life.” His face sagged, and tears trickled from his eyes. “I want you to know that if I could have, I would have happily and willingly given that chance to your daughter, nevermind the consequences.” He paused. “But I could not defy my Totem, and for that, I am so, so very sorry.” He bowed his head deeply towards Davian. “I have grieved as long as you have, and more, besides.”

Davian took a deep, shaky breath. “I ... will try to forgive you. It’s hard right now.”

Morlin nodded. “I... guess that’s about the best that I can hope for, given the circumstances.”

“The second?” Davian asked, as he stared into his tea.

The old man held out a carved and painted stone token. “This. It might be necessary. I cannot defy my Totem now, but I might be able to in the future. If you can defy yours when the time comes, bring it to me.”

Davian slipped the token into his vest. “I have to summon the Clans to discuss Stormheim’s war with the elves, and ... struggle to find... a direction.” He finally admitted.

“Find a direction.” Morlin repeated. “Not all who wander are lost, you know.”

Davian snorted. “Tolkien said that.”

Morlin gave him a confused look. “Who?”

Davian gave him a weak laugh. “Nobody important, I guess.” He stood up and fought against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

“It’s not just the altitude... it’s what I put into your tea. Take a rest, Davian. You’ll wake in an hour.” Morlin urged, his concern sounding genuine.

Davian fell to one knee, struggling to awaken the power of the dragon within him. He could feel it in his breast, warm, strong and full of vitality. He seized it in his mind, forcing himself to his feet. He would not fall victim to the Thunderbird’s drink. He was a Dragon, He was of the First Blood. He was the great-grandson of Adlan, a Hero of the Dragons.

He could barely breathe. His heart throbbed in his chest, he could feel it strangling his throat. He’d spent years as a slave, as a warrior, as a leader, as a father, he would not bend, he would not break, he would stand-

“It wasn’t the tea at all.” He realized. “It’s the smoke.”

Morlin chuckled, even as Davian threw himself outside of the Temple of the Winds and gulped at the fresh, crisp air.

“Not bad, Davian. Not bad at all.” Morlin called, even as Davian crawled away from the temple. “A pity I could not get you to defy the Dragon even once. We’ll try again another day.”