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Chapter Two
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The algae on the cavern walls above the waterline glowed a mirky green, reflecting shimmering light off the gentle swells in the water as Candasar's body jerked into consciousness: Why was she wedged into a crack? Why was she in the water? The memories returned gradually. She was in her cave, and she was not alone for once. The male was still asleep, safe, for now, and as far as the clan knew, long drowned. Candasar felt lucky to have kept its location hidden.
Candasar usually did not have much social interaction with the rest of her kind. Now that she had broken tribal mandate, if he were found, it would mean certain death for both of them.
Because of the male’s unconscious and sprawled condition, there was only room for him on the ledge above the water. This was highly inconvenient! She circled slowly, treading water. She was still exhausted. Her body felt bruised and scraped raw. Slowly moving her large flippers, she waited for his eyes to open. She wasn't that surprised when, after a short while, they did. Mistaking her watery form for the mother, who had eventually been the last to abandon him. He called out for her.
”Mother!”
“Hush,” she whispered urgently, “Lie still, or you will fall in the water again! I am female, but I am not your mother.”
Her words stopped him, and he swung his neck toward her to get a better look in the dim light.
“Who..?”
She cut him off quickly.
“I am Candasar,” she said quietly. “I saved you, and I am an outcast such as yourself, but for different reasons.”
Seeming to, at last, remember the ordeal and events that led up to his near drowning, his stubby wings fluttered reflexively, and he cringed back as far as possible onto the shoreline ledge.
“But why?” he groaned miserably, seeming to recoil even further. “I am useless and ugly.”
“What is your name?” she asked quietly, trying to sound soothing.
“Tundor,” he replied at last after a lengthy pause.
“Well, Tundor,” she began slowly, “I have rescued you. As my reward, let me tell you about our long-ago ancestors. It is a story that was told to me by my Grandfather. Strangely enough, he looked a lot like you. If you don’t mind me climbing up, I will tell it to you.”
Shrinking back on the rock shelf, he managed to find some room for her. In the dim light, she pulled herself up, beginning her story:
”Long ago, our people were plentiful and strong, and they flew in the skies and lived on mountaintops. They were much larger than us, and they lived without fear. The land was plentiful, and they hunted, not cold, slippery fish, but striking from above, they fed on land beasts. They grew strong on warm red meat.”
Tundors eyes grew wide.
“Their claws, segmented and sharp, such as yours, tore flesh as they wished until once again their mighty wings lifted them again from the earth to hunt from the sky in flights of red and black, white and blue, for those were some of their colors. They were able to use magic and called themselves Dragons! In their power and arrogance, however, they fell victim to an unexpected enemy!”
The young dragon listened, spellbound.
‘The elves of the land far to the South of our ancestors had frequently made contact with the great dragons of the North through the years. Some elves used telepathic abilities to speak with the dragons and share mental conversations. As their territories expanded and grew closer to one another, in time, these two powerful races began to more often peacefully interact.”
“The elves, who used deep magic stemming from the true names of every rock, twig, and physical force, were fascinated and impressed with the dragons who seemed to possess huge untold amounts of this magical energy. The dragons seemed content to live out their lives in the realm of the unmatched physical prowess they possessed, not studying how the elves used magic or considering their desire to gain more would lead to their downfall.”
“In our belief that one must only be physically strong, the dragons seriously underestimated the power of Elven magic. They had no idea what the Elves were capable of once roused from their peaceful ways. Somehow, a conflict occurred.”
”Mother said that we lost a war,” said Tundor interjected.
”I guess you could call it that,” said Candasar. “My grandfather called it a mass execution.”
”Even though they lacked the telepathy of the elves, the race of men held the dragons in very high esteem, and some even worshiped them. Dragons were never in conflict with them. On this continent, food was abundant. For reasons unknown, some dragons chose to attack the settlements of the Elven folk. The elf my grandfather talked to claimed dragons went so far as to eat the elves they killed in battle. Of course, this would be their undoing.”
”How did your grandfather learn these things?” Asked Tundor
”Did you know that there are elves that still keep watch over this lake?” She asked in return.
“My family kept me hidden,” he replied awkwardly.
”I have seen them myself a few times.” She said. “Long ago one of them told these things to my grandfather. I think the elf got in trouble for talking to him. My grandfather said that he never came back. Let me finish telling you about the war.”
“The elves, finding some of their homesteads missing and sorting the grisly evidence, sent emissaries to the dragon rulers appealing for a cessation of the atrocity, but these negotiations did not end well. The dragons had become accustomed to having their way.”
”Only one group of dragons and one family of elves argued for peace, appealing to the rest to consider each other peers and comrades, warning of disastrous repercussions, but they were silenced.”
”Seeing no benefit to further negotiations, the Elves fought with a new magic. The Elves formed a team of mighty sages that created a new and powerful spell.”
“The dragons had no real defense against it. The very magic that flooded the bloodstreams of the great dragons was turned against them and they were burned alive in the very fires of their bodies. Glands that secreted the flames that they could exhale were stoked from within to burn them from the inside out. The ones that survived were those that took refuge in the water to quench their internal fires. Very few were left!”
”How did those once mighty dragons become us?” He asked sadly.
“The elven watcher that spoke to my grandfather claimed that the elves were, at heart, a race that wanted no species to die off entirely. They gathered the survivors and began using a deep magic of change upon the dragons, most of which had sheltered in the lake. As a condition to stop their extinction, the dragons had to agree to great flesh-sculpting changes, including diminishing their fire glands and changing their shape. Their claws were fused into flippers, and their great wings were removed. This was powerful magic, but it took years for all the dragons to convert. Not every elf went along with this. They tried to protect the specific dragons they had befriended. They plotted together. Escapes were attempted. Dragons that did not accept these rules and the elves that helped them resist were killed. Dragons as they had existed before were deemed too dangerous to be allowed to live.”
”The elders certainly wanted me dead,” Tundor said. "Do you think that they did this to appease the elves?"
“I have seen few elves around here," said Candasar. "But that doesn't mean that they aren't watching. My Grandfather warned me that something strange was going on."
"So why do I have wings?" asked Tundor, confused.
"Because dragons were creatures of magic, the changes forced on us by the elves' magic have left a few gaps. These gaps occasionally manifest to show us what we once were. Dragons like you still very occasionally hatch.”
While she had spoken, daylight had arrived, soft, filtered sunbeams creeping through the air ducts in the cave ceiling.
"Does your magic make you blue?" Tundor asked bashfully.
Candasar looked down at the sunlight that was now illuminating her.
"Yes, it makes me blue," she said sadly. "In more ways than one."
Tundor had mainly been silent through the first part of her tale, but now his eyes widened in realization.
“We are both throwbacks to our ancestors!” he said, a curl of vapor hissing and steaming from the tip of his soggy wet nose.”
“I believe with all my heart,” Candasar said solemnly, "That we are not the abnormality. The rest of them are!”
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Tundor woke the next morning alone. He lay on the damp, narrow shelf that made up the only relatively dry place the cavern provided. The events of the night before and the brutal treatment he had suffered at the whim of the clan elders were confusing to the young pseudo-dragon. He felt betrayed and abandoned.
He supposed Candasar was out hunting or something. He had never been able to swim well, but lowered himself, legs first, down the edge of the sleeping shelf and into the underground pool. It was slippery. He thrashed as he slipped in deeper than he intended, unintentionally submerging himself. Sputtering and spitting, he clawed his way back out of the water.
He shivered miserably as he realized he might be trapped in this cave until Candasar came back for him. He would have liked to run away but didn't know where he would even go. That his own family had agreed to his death was hard for him to accept.
When Candasar finally returned, she fed and brought several large fish for him. He devoured them quickly, looking about eagerly for more. Candasar remembered the overpowering need for food brought on by growing at that age. She looked sadly at him, saying,
“I'm sorry, Tundor, that's all I could get. I am exhausted and have barely slept at all since dragging you here.”
Puzzled, he looked at her still treading water in the cavern and asked stupidly.
“Why not?”
She seemed to smile slightly before answering quietly
“Because you are in my bed, Idiot!”
Tundor almost leaped from the ledge before remembering his failed previous attempt.
“Sorry,” he mumbled apologetically and shrunk back against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Candasar chuckled and began pulling herself out of the water.
He was horrified to see again the bloody scratches that still oozed deep and red on her sides and upper legs as she groaned slightly and climbed up beside him.
“Did I do that?” he gasped.
“Yes, but don't worry about it,” she replied. “You didn't mean to. You were trying to save yourself from drowning by using me as an island.”
He looked away, embarrassed and dismayed that he had done so much damage to the one who had been trying to save him.
“It's just that I swim like a rock,” he said sadly, forcing himself to meet her eyes, hoping his expression showed at least some gratitude.
“I'm a little puzzled by that, actually,” she said with her eyelids already drooping. “My grandfather could swim enough to keep his head out of the water, but I suppose he was much older than you and had more time to practice. I remember him moving the entire length of his body back and forth through the water. Maybe you should try that instead of trying to paddle with those very sharp feet. Perhaps you could try it while I try to sleep a little.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Tundor nodded.
“I'll try not to make too much noise,” he said softly, but her eyes were already closed.
Intrigued by the possibility that he might have been going about the swimming with a faulty technique, he shimmied over her and lowered himself into the water of the cavern, Letting go of the shelf and pushing off he tried thrashing his body from side to side in the water. He sank immediately and came up coughing.
The blue water dragon on the shelf opened an eye and watched him for a minute before drifting off again, obviously more than exhausted. Tundor looked again at the horrible red slashes she bore on her body and wondered to himself why this stranger had bothered to save him. He tried to swim once more.
Eventually, he found he could keep his head out of the water by holding his arms and legs straight back against his sides and violently thrashing his whole body like it was one great tail. It took a lot of energy, but it would work in a pinch. Cold, tired, and now even more hungry, he found the tunnel to the outside and contemplated using his new skills to make an escape. Instead, he forced himself to crawl up next to her and sit quietly on the shelf until Candasar finally woke up. It was a long time. Eventually, he saw one of her large blue eyes quietly staring at him.
“Thank you,” he said to her softly. "Your advice worked. At least a little."
“Did you become a better swimmer?" she asked hopefully.
“Yes, I did, at least somewhat. ” he replied cautiously, “But I was thanking you for saving my life.”
She only smiled at him, then squeezed past. She pushed off the shelf with her flippers and slid gracefully into the water.
“I will again hunt, but it is now almost midday. The bigger fish will be deeper. I can make a good meal out of many smaller ones, but to bring something back of any consequence for you, I will need to catch larger ones.”
Tundor nodded. He had been eating fish caught by others for his entire life. It was never enough.
Candasar looked at him thoughtfully and continued.
“I wonder if our kind's size would be different if we ate the way our ancestors did. I'm curious how big you could grow on a different diet. We may soon have to find a way to get you something more than fish."
Tundor looked confused but nodded appreciatively. Food was good, the more the better. He climbed onto the still-warm shelf on which she had just rested to wait for her return, licking his lips in expectation. All that afternoon, she hunted, and she returned with as much for him as she could carry every time. Each time, he finished it all.
“Didn't your family feed you?” she asked at one point, trying not to laugh as the fish, with which she had just arrived, disappeared as fast as she could toss it to him.
"Mom tried, but my sister got jealous when she was told to catch her own. She didn't understand why she had to work for her meals, and I didn't.”
“She was hatched with flippers and is not like you?”
”Yes, he replied, thank goodness!”
“I suppose this sort of thing is hard to explain to a child.” Candasar thought to herself but did not say out loud. “An older brother getting special treatment.”
”How am I going to teach him to hunt for his land food when I barely can leave the water?” She worriedly asked herself.
That night, they tried to share the small shelf. It was all they had. Tundor pressed himself tightly against the rock wall, and Candasar laid as close as she could to him while still leaving some space in between them. Even so, some of her was hanging over the water. As she approached, there was an awkwardness in his eyes, which let her know it was far too soon to bring up the reason she had taken such an interest in his survival in the first place.
She lay awake for a long time, listening to his breathing as he dozed. She almost thought she could feel the heat from his sleeping fire running down her body as she lay awake beside him. She turned her thoughts inward and guided her magic to work inside her, enhancing the deep private places in her body that she hoped would soon produce creatures to rule the sky again.
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The next morning, Tundor awoke to yet another empty cavern. The rumbling in his stomach seemed to echo the hopeful thoughts that Candasar was out fishing.
“I'm going to wear her out trying to keep up with my appetite,” he thought to himself.
Suddenly, it seemed immensely practical to do something about the situation himself. He felt so wholly useless just sitting around waiting. Moving to the edge of the water, he looked at his reflection on its calm surface, his eyes having been in this dim light for so long that a reasonable shape could be made out. Despite a better understanding of what his body actually was and what it could grow into, it still disturbed him to consider his abnormal features. It was time to make an honest appraisal of his attributes.
Thoughtfully, he began to evaluate himself. The creature that stared back at him in the pool's reflection seemed so strange. Its body was thicker and heavier by far than that of others he had seen, even the larger males like his father had a thinner gracefulness about them, especially in the width of their trunk. He was much bulkier in comparison. His neck was wider at the base, tapering much slower toward his overlarge head. His tail was broader too. Though he was still relatively young, it seemed obvious, now, that he was a throwback to a completely different time in his racial history.
As he considered Candasar's story of their ancestors it seemed unlikely these “abnormalities” that he had thought of as defects could not have happened all at once and by random chance. The magic that had converted his kind to a life of swimming was merciful in a way. The elves had certainly never intended that dragons would ever fly again. The powerful elven magicians had prepared them for aquatic life. Tundor resolved that if he ever had the misfortune to meet one of these “elves” he would be exceedingly polite.
Just then Candasar's form broke the surface of the water at the center of the pool, startling him and shattering the reflected image in it. Tundor jumped slightly causing her to grin mischievously as his face showed far too much hidden embarrassment at her having caught him looking at himself.
“Breakfast!” was all she said by way of apology. It was the best apology. Tundor was eager to accept.
After Tundor quickly devoured the three large fish she deposited on the sleeping shelf, Candasar looked at him quizzically and asked a question.
“Are you ready to try and swim out of here and have a look around?”
“Do you think it's safe?” He asked, realizing he had no idea how far they were from others on the lake. It suddenly occurred to him unpleasantly that this might make it sound as if he was expecting her to defend him.
“Are there others near enough to hear me? I might do some heavy splashing!”
“I don't think so. No one should be close by”, Candasar said, thinking about the risk they would be taking “But keeping you in this cave forever is just not an option. Maybe you can catch something to eat. I'd like to get those thick legs of yours onto dry land and see what you are capable of!”
He looked down in embarrassment, becoming confused. Her sleeping next to him the night before had awoken a strange and unfamiliar yearning that he had failed to completely understand.
“Honestly, I don't know if we can keep up with your food requirements without somehow catching the land animals on the shore.” She said, not noticing his embarrassment.
"I have no idea how that is going to work out, though. In this situation, I have no experience whatsoever."
“I will try,” he said finally, deciding her intent was innocent of innuendo. “Let me see if I can get out of this cave”
Candasar nodded approvingly.
“That should not be too hard. Just take a deep breath and follow me!” Candasar said, before slipping soundlessly beneath the surface of the pool.
Splashing noisily into the water, Tundor grabbed a lungful of air and threw himself under the surface. Pressing his arms and legs against his sides he thrashed vigorously back and forth. Opening his eyes underwater, he could just make out the form of the blue water dragon as she moved away from him.
She was headed toward an underwater opening on the far side of the chamber. He doubled his efforts and slithered after her. They passed through a tunnel, lined with a few sharp-edged rocks. Hitting them proved to be inevitable while using his side-to-side swimming style. He careened off of a couple of them before straightening out his path and shooting out the other side. As he broke the surface, the dim light of early morning dazzled his eyes, now long adapted to the darkness.
“The water is deep here,” he thought, stretching out his hind legs as he bobbed up and down trying to find the bottom. Poking his head back under, he looked down. It was far too deep here to stand, but he could see the hole in the underwater cliff face that they had emerged from.
He suddenly realized that the entrance to the cavern, which was probably well concealed from land, would be easy to find for someone swimming underwater. He rose quickly to the surface, sputtering and gasping noisily for air. Now that he knew where it was, it shouldn't be hard to get back inside.
“That wasn't too bad was it?” asked Candasar with concern.
“Not really” Tundor replied still sucking air from his abnormal exertion and feeling the scrapes along his side. The scrapes twinged slightly, despite the cold water.
“I'm not much of a swimmer, though, and I'd sure like to get out of the water!”
“I noticed that." Candasar chuckled softly but then grew more serious.
”You should probably head for the shore over there” she gestured. “It has some shallows”
Taking a mental picture of the shoreline, Tundor tried to memorize the place where he had come to the surface. The shore near the sheer cliff sloped down fairly quickly to the left. About a hundred yards down he saw a pebbled but narrow beach surrounded on three sides by large old-growth trees. It looked like a very secluded spot.
“The nearest family grouping is about two and a half miles down to the right. The clan hunters usually avoid the shore, so you shouldn't be seen, especially if you can make it back behind the trees.” Candasar said as if reading his mind. “The human town is much closer so be aware of that.“
Tundor swam quickly in that direction, relieved when his claws found purchase on the rocky bottom and he waded quickly onto the stony beach and then up through the underbrush surrounding some large pines. His shoulders cracked and snapped the lower branches as he struggled to get through them and out of sight from the water. One of the tree limbs snagged on his “wing” and he gave a little yelp as it tore free. Finally finding a small space where he could look around, he gazed back to see that Candasar had followed him up as far as the shoreline. She looked strangely beautiful sitting in the shallows with nothing but her flippers below the water. Her long neck swished from side to side, looking into the trees for signs of him.
Wrestling through the brush he found a place where he could fit his body enough to stick his head out between the trees and let her know where he was.
“See if you can catch something to eat” she called softly.
Her voice was unintentionally amplified as it passed over the water.
“I don't think there are any creatures in the forest large enough to give you problems but BE CAREFUL!”
With that she turned, sliding over the shallows, and quickly disappeared into the water. Tundor was alone.
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As Tundor turned away from the lake and headed into the forest, the first thing he noticed was that all the trees looked very much the same. They blocked his view and he realized very quickly how thick the undergrowth was. It was tough going. Tree branches and their prickly pine needles caught at him in various sensitive lower places and also poked at his face as he tried to force his way through them. He did find their scent strange and exciting. He decided to make his way up the sloping hill to the cliff that marked the spot over the opening to Candasar's grotto.
The trees seemed to thin as he climbed and once at the top, he found a clear spot in which he could lay down and stretch out in the morning sunshine. It felt invigorating to lay on the warm grass as he looked out over the lake. The air was clear and he thought he could make out Candasar as she swam swiftly back and forth underwater, popping her head up occasionally in the choppy waves that dotted the lake's surface. He resisted the temptation to stand and call out to attract her attention, suddenly reminded again how dire the consequences should he be seen by anyone.
A stiff morning breeze had risen, and a bird hung silently in the air, wings flicking occasionally to make small changes in direction as it too, searched for fish below the surface. He watched in fascination as it dipped and moved riding the currents. Suddenly it dove, piercing the lake water like a shooting star, rising quickly, a small fish wiggling in its beak. Looking over his shoulder at his back, he tried to flare his stumpy pathetic wings and felt the air catch slightly beneath them. They provided far too little lift to rise at all from the hilltop. He snorted in disgust and headed back into the trees, his stomach calling louder than the thrill of unattainable flight.
Pushing onward through the thick growth, it struck him as very unlikely that he would be able to sneak up on anything unless it had been born deaf. The horrific sounds of a large dragon moving noisily through rough terrain would probably warn any prey. Fate proved him wrong. He didn't find a meal, he stepped in it.
Moving across a small meadow, he spotted a creek and veered toward it, suddenly thirsty. As he pivoted, one of his rear claws dropped into an unseen hole. The occupants of the hole were a family of small but feisty animals, two of which were angry or ornery enough to rush out of the smashed entryway hissing and snarling. They seemed to expect to exact some measure of revenge on anyone or anything responsible for disturbing them.
Hearing them yelp in surprise at seeing the size of the actual cause of their troubles, and barely giving it conscious thought, Tundor whipped his long neck around and snapped the first one up in one swift bite. The other dove back down the hole. Intrigued by the interesting taste and hungry for more, Tundor swiftly unearthed the den completely with his front claws by pushing aside a large boulder, under which the den lay. Tundor quickly dispatched the other one and then its two cubs. The blood running down his chin was sweet and warm. He then drank deeply from the creek before continuing his search.
A few minutes later, moving through a thin spread of trees, he spotted an odd brownish-black creature, which upon seeing him began mewling loudly and quickly climbed a nearby pine. Intrigued, Tundor headed over to the tree and gazed up at the animal, now far above his head in the upper branches. Standing on his hind legs proved insufficient to reach it. It only caused the small animal to cry more loudly.
Suddenly, a much larger animal, presumably the adult version, was charging down on him echoing the call of its offspring up in the tree. It lumbered oddly on its much shorter front legs. Tundor snorted in pain and surprise as it swiped at him with an extremely sharp claw. It jumped upward, trying to sink its teeth into his neck. Anger rising, Tundor drove himself forward upon the animal, talons ripping and jaw snapping. There was the crunch of bone as he severed its back and the animal lay still, blood pooling beneath its fur-covered body.
Somewhat surprised at what he found himself capable of, but still smarting from the gash in his shoulder, Tundor began feeding on the creature. It was messy work but more food than he had ever had at one time in his entire life. Returning to the creek, he immersed his head into the stream removing most of the gore and drinking his fill once again.
He decided to call it quits after an encounter with a black animal with a large white stripe running down its back. The creature seemed oddly unafraid of him but when he approached, it turned its tail and hit him directly in the face with a vile smelling spray. Eyes blinking and burning he fled, plunged his head once again into the small creek. After removing his head from the water, he wiped his face desperately on the long grass of the meadow. The smell would not go away, but at least again he could see. He returned to look again for the animal, to get some sort of revenge, but when he did, it was gone. It was time to go home.
Tundor found his way back to the trees by the water's edge and poking his head out from between them, looked out over the lake. The whitecaps were higher in the brisk afternoon wind, and he could see Candasar just offshore swimming back and forth. When she spotted him emerging from the trees at last, she swam quickly over to the shoreline.
“Where have you been?” she asked with worry as he waded out into the water. She suddenly retracted her head in surprise.
“What is that smell?”
“I have no idea” Tundor replied quickly, “But black animals with a white stripe are not good to eat”
“Is that what cut your shoulder?” she asked looking with concern at the large gash.
“No, that one I managed to make into a meal,” he said proudly. “But I definitely should have stopped while I was ahead”
She giggled a little, then wrinkling her saurian nose, she led him out into the waves. They stopped briefly at the place where they would dive.
“When we get back inside, you can tell me all about it,” she said. Then she dove swiftly.
Taking a huge lungful himself, he followed thrashing back and forth in her smooth wake until at last he surfaced breathless in the darkened cavern.
Suddenly he remembered the little cub he had left up the tree. Who would take care of him now? Such was the harsh reality of making a meal out of someone's mother. Pressing himself against the rock on the narrow shelf, he waited for Candasar to lie next to him. He didn't mind when she pressed a little closer than the night before. It did, however, make it a lot more distracting to tell her about his day.