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CHAPTER 3
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The following day, as soon as he could get Candasar to verify that none of the neighboring clans were fishing in the waters outside, Tundor was out of the cavern and making his best pace for the shoreline. He was eager to explore the area he had visited the previous day. His swimming was improving slightly, but it was clear that he would never be happy in the water. In addition, the red meat he had consumed the previous day had awakened, deep inside of him, an even greater hunger, if that were possible. This morning, he was famished. He barely looked back to see Candasar as she waited for him to push through the brush near the water's edge before turning and swimming out deeper into the lake. Tundor was sure she would be happier if he could reduce some of the burdens of finding food for them both.
He went to the tall tree where he had found the young brown animal, but it was gone. The trail left by the smell of its paws was clear, and he followed it. The small animal had circled in an outward spiral beginning at the blood-soaked soil near the tree's base. Eventually, it headed away further into the woods. Reading the trail's scent fascinated him, but he had some difficulty staying focused on it as everything in the forest was filled with deep and rich odors, unknown and mysterious. Still, the hope of finding the animal or a few larger ones provided sufficient motivation to spur him on.
He crested a slight rise and saw a large creature with a huge set of forked spikes sticking out of the top of its head. It looked up, startled at his approach, as he had come upon it from downwind. He leaped toward it as quickly as he could, but the animal bounded swiftly away with giant leaping strides, almost as if it could fly. It was certainly too fast for him to give chase. Tundor was very disappointed. The animal smelled delicious. To make things worse, his brief chase had lost him the trail of the smaller animal he had been previously following, and it took him several minutes to pick it up again. Once he found it, he continued but soon felt he must turn back. He was getting quite far from the lake.
Suddenly, he felt a strange tickling and overpowering sensation at the base of his skull. There were eyes upon him! He turned quickly around in a circle but could see nothing. The strange feeling continued, and suddenly, there was a surprisingly painful pressure behind his eyes and an internal click or pop that he could not hear but only feel. Ideas began streaming into his mind. Images and strange syllables flooded over him in wave after wave of incredible noise. Tundor was confused and afraid. He bolted, running back the way he had come.
The assault of noise faded only slightly as he ran and thrashed his way through the deep brush and around large trees. He could feel one sound repeating itself over and over, overpowering his control over his body as he fled in terror.
"Letta!"
Tundor struggled as he felt his control of his massive legs fail. He found himself standing entirely still. He tried to turn his head from side to side, trying to find the power that had stripped him of his movement. Finally, he saw a strange two-legged being. It was covered in material as green as the forest. It came from behind him and circled to the front. Its eyes never wavering as it surveyed his immobile body. The two-legged creature's deep brown eyes expressed unmistakable shock and surprise.
"I never thought I would live to see one of your kind," it said, the words strange and unspoken but their meaning nonetheless unmistakably clear in Tundor's mind.
Inside, Tundor was filled with fear. He suddenly began to suspect that this being must be one of the elves Candasar had told him about in her story of their kind. The elf would, no doubt, now set his guts on fire from the inside.
"It hurts! Do not kill me," Tundor thought back at the elf, his words filled with terror.
"Do not worry! The word I used only stops the movement of your outer body. It should not bring you pain if you do not struggle too much."
"Struggling seems most appropriate to me right now!" Tundor answered back.
"I can see inside of you that your lungs and heart are working as they should, if more quickly than normal due to your fear," said the elf.
"Are there other dragons around here?" the elf asked, suddenly looking around nervously and scanning the skyline over the tops of the nearby trees.
"They have abandoned me, except for one, and she can not walk on land as I do; she only swims. She is in the lake," he replied, surprised at his willingness to reveal the complete truth to the elf. The elf seemed to relax slightly but did not allow his eyes to roam too long from the treetops.
"Do you expect me to believe then, dragon, that you are the only one of your kind?" the elf asked skeptically.
"Yes, it is true," he replied. "I am a freak, a monster, even to my kind. They tried to drown me only two days ago, but I managed to be somehow saved by one who was kind."
"This is surprising and something I must report to my superiors, but not yet! Responded the elf with a strange look in his eye. "First, I have many more questions!"
"If you please," Tundor replied. "Before we talk much more, I am exceedingly hungry and may die any second if I do not get something to eat!"
The elf got a strange look on his face and then began to laugh. He almost shook with the effort of controlling himself as his body spasmed with amusement.
"The old stories are sure right about that part," he laughed again, surprisingly loudly. "Dragon, that appetite of yours may turn out to be your undoing."
The elf reached over his shoulder and freed a long, curved piece of wood with a string pulled between the two ends. Another smaller pointed shaft he fixed to the center of the string and stalked off into the woods, leaving the dragon standing, helpless, unable to move as if rooted to the spot. About ten minutes later, he returned with the curved wood again over his back.
"Iet tauthr - Follow me," he said.
Tundor felt the words that had seized his control of his body earlier changing, allowing him to fall obediently in step behind the elf as he walked away from the dragon again and into the woods. They had not gone five hundred yards when Tundor became aware of the smell of fresh blood. Soon, the two of them arrived at the body of one of the head-pronged animals Tundor had tried to catch earlier. Its chest was pierced by the shaft of wood that the elf had fitted to the string.
"This is strange magic, this killing with wood," thought Tundor as the scent of the large animal's warm blood caused his mouth to water.
"Eat first, then we will talk, dragon," came the elf's stern voice in his head once again. This was one request that Tundor was okay with complying with.
The elf stepped back, well out of the way as Tundor began to feed. He had a strange look on his face. Tundor watched him with one eye constantly upon him as he dove in ravenously upon the warm body of the animal.
"This deer gave his life for your nourishment," said the elf wistfully. "I am sworn to protect the animals in this sanctuary and to guard their way of life, but the truth has always been that some must die so that others can live."
"Deer, eh? Is that what you called it?" replied Tundor between crunches of bone. "It is a very tasty animal. It's the best I've had, but for most of my life, I've eaten fish, so I haven't much to compare it to.
"That is interesting," the elf replied, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. "A wholly stable and aquatic population of water dragon, producing an egg that hatches into a clawed and winged ancestor type. "
"I don't know anything about that," answered Tundor meekly. He gingerly grabbed the arrow with his teeth and carefully laid it down at the feet of the elf.
"I myself was recently told the old story of our ancestors. Compared to what I have heard about them, I am, indeed, a very poor specimen of a dragon, having hatched with only these useless wings."
Slipping the arrow back into the tube on his back and looking carefully at Tundor, the elf replied.
"I've only seen pictures of your kind myself, but you are right. The wings are all wrong, and even though you say you are young, I believe you are quite a bit smaller than the dragons of old."
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"I suppose only time will tell," replied Tundor, "But if I can eat many more of these 'deer,' I might have a chance to grow bigger," he said as he finished the deer, leaving only the skull and horns and began licking the blood from his claws and face.
"I will make a bargain with you, dragon." the elf proposed. "Meet me here tomorrow morning, and we will speak again. If you still have not been able to hunt by yourself, then I will kill another deer for you to feed on. Either way, you will return to me."
"And if I do not accept?" Tundor replied suspiciously.
"Then I and others of my kind will come. They will not be as friendly or as curious as I have been today. We will hunt you down." the elf said slowly.
"And then?" Tundor asked, already fully knowing the answer.
"You will die!" came the icy reply.
Tundor nodded his head. Even without the truth made plain and clear by the power found in the elf's use of the ancient language, he did not doubt that in the slightest.
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Tundor left the elf and made his way back toward the water. Looking back over his shoulder, he realized that he had already lost sight of him as the expert woodsman had seemed to melt into the forest. Candasar would be angry with him, of course, for being spotted so soon.
"I couldn't help it," he thought to himself, "A dragon's got to eat!"
Tundor began to ponder, though, just how he had been overcome. The elf had spoken into his mind with a power of words that had seized his very will. It was as if his own body had been taken over. When he had communicated with his family, and then with Candasar, it had been in dragon speech, a mixture of grunts, growls, and hisses, with appropriate specific body movements. These thoughts and words that had entered his mind and taken control of him were something altogether different. What was that word?
It was Letta. He remembered it. Deep inside, he could still feel the power of that word. It meant 'Stop!" Having a powersuch as that might come in handy when chasing one of those incredibly fast "deer" that the elf had killed for him. That was a skill that it would be worth acquiring. He didn't think it would be a good idea to get overly indebted to one such as that as a means of getting his meals. There must be other words of similar potency. He would keep the appointment with the elf tomorrow and pay attention. It seemed like it might be a good idea to have a few of these words at his disposal. It might also be worth it to practice with the pronunciation. He wasn't sure his tongue and lips would be up to the task, but it certainly would be worth trying. Tundor decided to keep the meeting with the elf a secret from Candasar, if only for a little while. Knowledge of it would only upset her, and he didn't think she would be willing to let him return tomorrow for the appointment. It would be better to leave her out of it. She had already done too much for him. If the elf decided to tell others of his encounter, they would certainly come to slay him. It would probably be safer for her if he just kept her blissfully ignorant.
Perhaps I should move into the forest, he thought. Suddenly, the thought of leaving Candasar made him feel very sad and lonely. She had risked everything to save him, and even though his feelings for her were confusing, she was now the only family he had. Even now, he could see her waiting for him out in the water. Her neck arcing out from under the waves so graceful, so free. If only he could move and swim like her in the water. Instead, he began his twisting and thrashing as he made his way out to where she waiting.
"I think I've hunted out the area near the shore over there for a while," he said, gesturing back to the way he had come from. "How would you like to help me find another place to go ashore?"
She looked nervously up and down the lake.
"I think we could probably go a little more south without getting caught if we are quiet," she said at last.
"Did you catch anything today?" Candasar asked interested.
"I have eaten," he replied
"Good!" she replied. "So have I, but fishing has been poor, and I find myself strangely interested in what it might be like to eat something different for a change."
"I'll see what I can do," he said cautiously.
After a while, they came to a point on the lakeshore. Swimming quickly away ahead of him, she called back, saying that she was going to make sure the cove on the other side of the point was clear. When she gave him the all-clear signal, he swam over. A shallow bay with trees growing almost to the water's edge greeted his eyes.
"This looks promising," he said eagerly.
"I hope so," she answered, licking her lips. "Bring me something if you can."
"Don't worry, he replied. "I've got a new hunting technique I'd like to try. I think it's going to work out very well."
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The elf watched the dragon from a distance as it pushed its way through the vegetation at the edge of the lake and splashed noisily into the water. He also observed the soundless ripple as the shimmering smooth, surprisingly blue "water type" rose from the depths and joined him. The blue color was an anomaly and created a lot of questions that he must have answered. If he wanted these answers, he would have to move fast. He didn't have much time until he was sure that the dragons would be discovered.
Quickly, he turned and made his swift and silent way back through the forest from where he had come. Deep within his soul, he ached for the life of the deer he had slain to feed this dragon. He had never done such a thing before, taken the life of another creature in such a way and for such a purpose. He had, of course, seen the natural process of the carnivorous animals as they hunted and killed for nourishment. He knew the natural order of this was good and necessary. It surprised him, on a whole new level, that he had so quickly demonstrated a willingness to take a life on behalf of this abnormal new dragon. His mother had always told him that his desire to help others would get him into trouble someday. He hoped that he would have the chance to prove her wrong.
He moved silently through the forest, his feet running effortlessly, swallowing up the miles to the outpost. He didn't often return here while out on patrol, finding sleeping under the stars or in the large pine-scented branches of a tree much more to his liking. The outpost, though, had a small reference library. He needed it today.
At last, the structure came into view. Low and long, the stonework was from the age hundreds of years ago when the elves had not feared to employ the power of their magic in making a beautiful building. Each turn and corner flowed in a simple elegance that spoke of function and form. Incredibly strong, the archwork could, no doubt, survive bombardment from even above, and the strange clefts in the overhanging roof seemed a likely place to shelter while firing arrows at an unnatural angle into the sky. Left undisturbed, the fortress would stand for another thousand years before the first crack would be found in the durable foundation. The building had been made as a shelter during the early part of the dragon conflict as settlers and farmers would gather together to fend off attacks from their marauding bands, likely as not to fall from the sky and try and make a meal out of you. Nowadays, it was the workplace and headquarters of the Wardens. They were those tasked with keeping the area around the lake in good condition and, most importantly, keeping an eye on the dragons. The war had left a huge emotional injury upon the entire region, and it was part of his job to keep some unseen event from tearing off the scab.
Well, he could remember the little song that Elven Children still learned from the earliest days.
He hummed it quietly now, the words playing only in his head:
"Sudden shadow blocks the Sun
Run, run, RUN!
Lift your eyes and watch the skies
Don't let them take you by surprise."
He grimaced, remembering the way he had felt when he had first heard the ancient stories about these carnivores. Now, having seen one in the flesh, albeit a juvenile, he had a whole new perspective on his childhood nightmares.
"This could be a huge problem!" he thought to himself. "I should report this and bring in the council. He was sure their actions would be swift and decisive, but he couldn't help feeling that he had too many questions to answer.
Entering the door, he set his bow and quiver on the table and turned to the bookcase. It was where he had last seen it, the ancient tome chronicling the war with the dragons. Flipping through, he found the place in the book he was looking for,the part about the survivors. They were from the one dragon clan that had not chosen to fight the elves. Those who had been the best communicators had come to know the elves as friends.
One of his people, who had considered himself a friend of the dragons, had broken the Emperor's orders. He had warned a few of the dragons, in advance of the attack, to seek shelter in the water. When the council of elders had unleashed the magic that turned the dragon's powerful ability to breathe fire inward against their bodies, those he had considered his friends had survived. The rebel had paid for his treason with his life. He had been executed. Not able to easily kill those sheltering in the lake, the council had changed the magic, crippling the survivors by cruelly stripping their wings. They also changed their claws to flippers for swimming so that they would not be able to easily leave the lake.
Now hundreds of years later, the elves' descendants still watched the lake, patrolling it with hidden wardens like himself to guarantee the dragons never left it. He had been instructed to always respect the power the dragons once possessed, and those in his profession had been charged to guard against them regaining their freedom.
So engrossed in his reading, he was surprised to hear a noise behind him. Snapping the book shut, he whirled around. His father was standing at the table, staring down at an arrow he held in his hand. The young elf cringed as he suddenly realized that it was the arrow from his quiver. The arrow had tooth marks set far too wide apart, and it still bore some bloody traces at the end of the feathered shaft. The look of confusion on his father's face was unmistakable.
"Lothinar, my son, what have you been up to?"