A surge of electricity tickled down Lyre’s head. It started as a pulse near the base of his horns, raced down his fins all the way to his tail tip, spreading into his folded wings. Instinctively, they opened a few inches and grew more rigid as his mind made sense of the surge, prompting him to turn toward the approaching storm.
He lifted his pfod to shield his eyes as he peered into the distant clouds. Leed was not a large Aer village, but as most it sat halfway up a mountain. Standing at the very edge, a sheer cliff, he saw as far as his wings could carry him.
“It’s unnerving how all of you do that,” Ann said and joined him at the unsecured cliff. She sat down next to his legs and dangled hers above the abyss below as she hummed a tune, “Shadows falling” to be exact, a usual song for her if she was nervous, worried, or happy. It would be easier to guess if she had the voice of an Aer that carried emotions. In her human voice the true meaning was obscured slightly differently. Word choice, tone and body language rather than emotion riding in her words.
“Feels like I can sense the storm coming as well,” she said. “Wind is picking up.”
Lyre closed his eyes and listened. He was not one for meditation, but Viril had suggested for him to try to hear the melody of the world. The wind brush past his sides, filled his wings, but besides a hiss he heard a great nothing of worldly melodies. Instead, his claws had started to tap the cold stone below, in tact with Ann’s hum.
He hummed along with a deep, elegant tone full of anticipation, but also tinges of fear and disappointment he failed to hide. It would fall flat on her ears, anyway.
Her tone shifted into something more upbeat. “Worried about the competition? Or still worried about getting into Viril’s pants?”
At least his voice should fall flat on her ears. “I am worried about neither. Why would I worry?” He tapped her side with the frills of his lengthy tail and sent her red mane fluttering. She brushed his tail away.
“Lyre, you think about two things in life and she is better at both.”
“How would you know?”
“I am guessing.” She leaned slightly backwards with a grin. “You have been practicing your vocals thrice daily since last week and haven’t brought back a single dragon-ness. And you haven’t finished the entire town either. Does she like her partner to have a bit more muscle?”
“That is not it. And muscles would just ruin my sleek curves.” He took great pride in his statue. Muscles looked far better on the sturdier frames of Tira and Metia.
“It is perfectly normal for men of extended age to have trouble performing.”
“Oh, shut up. That is not it either. And I don’t see you having any luck either.”
“We are halfway up a mountain and the only options have a pair of legs too many. There is not enough ale in town to get me that drunk.” Her smile dropped a little. “But seriously, what is going on?”
Lyre tapped harder in frustration. She knew, she knew exactly, that he was worrying. He shouldn’t need to worry. It was not the festival and the competition, not the hundreds of Aer and finally having an entire crowd able to hear his true song. No, it was a single dragoness his mind revolved around. “Viril is just that good. You can’t hear her, but she takes your mind by the scruff of its neck and cradles you like a whelp. It’s just- she is nearly double my age. I think I can’t match that experience.”
“Come on, youth and power beats old bag any day.”
“She is no old bag. She is barely forty.”
“Old from a human point of view.” Somehow, he doubted Ann’s assessment. Humans reached 80 years easily.
“Let’s call her mature, stern, and strict, but she knows all about the voice and her lessons I wouldn’t want to miss. Her scales have this sheen and her horns grow out so nicely and don’t get me started on her voice.”
Ann lightly punched his thigh and he flinched. “Then scoop your brains out of your groin and focus on actually performing, you moron.”
“You’ll find that those are very much linked. To sing with passion, you need passion.”
Another pulse of electricity raced down his back and he noted the storm slowly closing in. “I guess you are going to the caves?”
“Are you nuts? I’d miss the show. I want to see you serenade this village into submission along with Viril.” She chuckled. Usually, he would expect nothing less. They had hardly ever missed the other’s performance. But as her friend, he needed to point out the festivals got rather excessive.
“You are aware of what happens during, right?”
“Yes, and?” She didn’t even sound surprised or worried at all about it.
Lyre stood up and turned to head back to the village square. “Are you genuinely sure you want to witness that?”
Ann followed him up the hacked stone path. “When will I get this chance again? Of course I will be there. I’ll play my strings and pull the crowds. Don’t need voices to woo them. And besides, how could I call myself part of the band if I miss the lead performers’ graduation?”
Her bass added so much to his voice in ways speech could not. Something he had to beat Viril, but another member was not allowed. Competitions were strictly solo performances. “Then don’t let me stop you, but remember that you can leave at any time.”
“Stop treating me like an innocent maiden.”
“I am not. I am just making sure.” In truth, she had probably seen worse. Maybe he was simply worried that she might see him fail.
Lyre nodded a greeting as they passed the last open shops. Most had closed up and tied down anything that could catch the wind like a wing. He and Ann turned into the street leading to their inn as a group of whelps dashed out and spread out faster on the village square than a gust of wind.
“No, no, come right back to me.” Mael, the village elder, dragged himself out of the side street behind them. The massive Aer stood several heads above Lyre and, as much as his once vibrant blue scales had dimmed, his voice commanded as much authority as it must’ve in his prime. Enough to stop the whelps in their tracks.
He turned to look at Lyre and Ann. His gray eyes tried to focus on the two, but he appeared to have forgotten his glasses.
“It’s me.”
“Oh, Lyre. Figured it was you. Your steps are so light and young. Must be just as excited as my daughter.” He spoke with an endearing thrill that conveyed as much excitement as the old dragon could muster. “Viril was quite busy preparing the last days. Would’ve done so right now too, but she’s gotta herd the whelps on the other side of town.” He turned to glare down at the tiny dragons surrounding his pfod, each barely reaching higher than his ankle. “They don’t want to get inside, but we’ll be having a grand time in the caves. I have picked the very best stories to read. Have you ever heard the story of the great pathwalker Agrarius the wise? It is not a story Viril would ever tell you.”
One whelp shot Lyre a worried gaze, and he did not envy them. Once Mael started, there was no stopping his reading until he fell asleep. Personally, he could think of nothing worse than being locked in with the elderly parts of the village, but the caves were deep enough to protect them from the storm. And, more importantly, protect from their voices. The sealing of the cave marked the start of the festivities.
Mael glanced at Ann. It was her last chance as well, but she shook her head. “I’ll have to pass on the stories today.”
“Can’t Lyre read? He has a nicer voice,” one of the whelps asked.
“No,” Mael said softly, “he is busy making sure the storm doesn’t blow away any of our houses. We wouldn’t want that, would we? And now let us hurry because storms can be vicious for tiny wings.”
“It is just wind.”
“Mael is right,” Lyre said and bent downwards to face the small head at eye level. “Unless you want to help me like big, strong dragons. I heard the kitchen is looking for dragons to help wash bowls.”
The posse of blue splotches squeaked collectively as they hurried to follow Mael. Storms and lightning didn’t scare any whelp, but the idea of washing bowls sure did.
Once back at the inn, Lyre instantly headed to the washroom. He picked up his satchel from the shelf next to the small copper bathtub and rummaged around inside for his brush. His pfod recognized the worn bone handle as if it was his own tail and one of his knuckles hit the glass of his oil. It was the least he could do to look proper. Unlike any inn in the kingdom, The Stranded Dragon, and every other inn in town for that matter, cared little about providing anything beyond basic hygiene supplies.
Pouring a little oil on a small towel, he got to work on the finest scales on his face first, gently rubbing the oil in to bring out the true sky-blue. At the same time, he judged the length of his claws and gave them a quick drag over his own whetstone. Especially the two clawless digits on his right.
“Pretty enough for Viril yet?” Ann passed through the door and squeezed herself in front of the too small mirror to brush her hair.
“The competition is a concert. How would I look if I didn’t ‘pretty up’?” Proper presentation was important, not as much as voice, but enough to warrant a good routine for scale care. This wasn’t about Viril at all. Even though he had to admit that she was the only dragon he sought to impress today.
Another shiver cascaded down his back and they hurried to finish up before grabbing Ann’s bass and heading back to the village square.
Most villages preferred to dance for their festival, to dive headfirst into the rumbling clouds and compete by trying to reach the eye of the storm first. Leed had a different approach. The village competed in voice and song. In the time he took to shine up his scales, the organizers had constructed two stages a few tens of tail-lengths apart on the square. Every Aer in the village laced their words with more emotion than any city dweller. Even the construction workers chose not to hide their excitement and anticipation as they complained about some sort of hammer and nail related topics Lyre understood nothing about. Aer voices took some time to get used to as he arrived a few months ago, but now he’d miss the straightforward nature of tone once he returned to the kingdom.
A low hum encompassed the square in one fell swoop. It overpowered the tickle of the storm and dragged his mind to attention, and to the stage on the left. While every Aer spoke in the way of their voice, none had mastered the way as much as Viril. Even Ann seemed to feel it, judging by the weird way her skin wrinkled and popped up as it did whenever she heard a fantastic tune.
Could he match her? What if he choked on his performance? Dark thoughts crept up from his queasy stomach like pillars of thunderclouds. “No,” he decided. If he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have accepted.
Preparing to make a fantastic first impression to both the crowd and Viril, he jumped up onto his stage, flared his wings until the wind blew them open and faced the larger dragoness directly. “I hope you prepared your earplugs,” he loudly proclaimed, placing as much firm pride in his voice as possible. He’d never dare to say such offensive things in a lesson, but as her opponent, there had to be heckling.
She sat with her dark wings folded, glossy blue tail wrapped neatly around her nearly crossed front legs. Her stern expression betrayed no hint of worry, but the glint in her green eyes contained a fire he seldom saw in her.
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The plaza went silent as Aer turned to face the commotion, guided by his prideful echo. Viril’s gaze slimmed, just a little, but it was an emotion on her face, so his words achieved something.
“Is that tremble unconstrained excitement, or fear?” She did not move, nor did she raise her voice or place much emotion inside. The factual delivery was akin to a lesson.
To his dismay, she noticed such a minor detail, a failure in fine motor control, and while it passed over the average listener, his teacher immediately caught it. But the most minuscule details did not win this contest. It shouldn’t bother him and yet an unfamiliar stir moved his legs, as if the stage grew thorns and they wanted to leave. Maybe he should have another tea with honey for his voice? Another warm up with Ann?
“Maybe she simply hears her bones creaking.” Ann smiled and while Viril pretended she did not hear what was meant for Lyre’s ears only, the tiny shift in her ears told him otherwise. “You got this, do what you always do and stir up the crowd. I have seen nobody resist your voice before. Viril can’t be that different, or that much better. You have that special Lyre touch that will beat out her Viril touch.”
His gaze swung to the crowd, and a first raindrop splashed down on his snout. “True, she has never seen me perform after all, only train.” The pulses of distant lightning stirred his muscles with growing anticipation. More and more villagers filed into the marketplace, and soon the stone below was hardly visible beneath the sea of blue hues. He had never feared crowds, but facing the chatter of a hundred excited Aer was different. It infected him and their excited heat coursed through his stomach and urge him to move and he tapped the planks below to satisfy himself.
Viril still sat calmly, seemingly unaffected, but having spent the last months with her, he noticed her staying a little too calm, too stern. She had to be worried as much as he was. And if she was, he had a real chance.
A gong echoed over the village, signaling the sealing of the caves. “Okay, guess I should move to my stage. A fruit crate down the street,” Ann said and laughed. “Good luck, big guy. Don’t add too much to the population.”
“Hilarious. Thanks. Go pull their strings.”
With those last words of encouragement, Ann grabbed her bass and moved somewhere down a less crowded street. Not even a minute later, the distinct sound of her instrument echoed up towards the two main stages.
A scale raising shiver followed by a thunder crack broke through the chatter and the crowd flinched in excitement as the sensation traveled through them like a wave.
Unable to contain themselves any longer, somebody erupted into song at the back of the crowd. Lyre recognized it as “The Storm’s fifth”, a melodic piece for which the older singer lacked the right intonation to his words and the emotions overshot their intended place as he failed to contain the pleasure and excitement lacing every note.
His next gaze went back to Viril, perhaps out of instinct for advice on anything music. If Lyre dared to butcher the intentions of that song, she’d scold him. So it came all the more surprising that she bobbed along with the haphazard rhythm. Did she not hold everybody to the same standard? The festival was a celebration, but also a contest first and foremost. Every dragon present tried their best to impress another, or several anothers.
More and more voices joined in various songs all over the marketplace as the rain turned into a slight drizzle. His heart hammered stronger by the second as the mess of melodies converged to convey very similar feelings. Blood pumped hard below his scales and he imagined the rain turned to steam upon hitting them.
“Taken by clouds”, sung by an ambitious dragoness, merged with the melancholic notes of “Lost in Arakas caves” and in between, he could still make out Ann’s bass as the only instrument.
Notes and emotions struck his ears, fought for attention along with the storm and yet none appeared interesting enough to follow truly, not until Viril’s first notes joined the fray and her rendition of “Skylight” filled the village square like a hot mist as it strangled every other melody.
His dragonheart jumped ablaze and the membrane of his wings hardened as they spread a little without warning, as though her words were thermals promising to elevate him. Her notes were on point, as was every word, every intonation, and every emotion carried in them. “Skylight” told of joy and loss as the slow and mellow start slowly ascended into tunes of happy flight and-
He shook his head, tried to pry himself away and focus. Half the crowd’s ears sat pointed at him and he had not even uttered a single note yet. Lightning split the air and the thunderous rumble droned out Viril as it passed. Sensing the opportunity as his ears opened again, Lyre drew a deep breath, raised himself upwards to stand on just his hind legs and yelled: “Ascend!” He barely stopped himself from screaming out the start of “Midnight’s Flight”, managing to push the words just hard enough to transfer power, youth, spirit and the Aer’s indomitable will to fly. All in the hope of overpowering the mellow start of Viril. If she started slow, he’d go all out from the get go, push them and himself to take them on a ride so powerful that Viril’s finer control could not keep up. All while carefully managing his own voice as to not falter or miss as he strained his throat to its limits.
Their songs clashed in the audience like two avalanches. A few frilled ears turned to his side and others switched to focus on the mellow notes instead. Song by song, note by note, they tried for the crowd’s attention, pushing and pulling, choosing opposing songs and melodies on purpose to prove themselves more worthy over the other.
Her voice invaded him the entire time, tried to tug at comforting memories and the familiar. Yet above it all sat an intense longing. It reminded him of home, of his discovery, what his voice was capable of and the flutter of chasing the sensual notes of a first love.
His voice wavered to match her emotions, and he forced himself back away. No, she failed to see the crowd was young. Seeing the world, exploring the skies, reigned supreme in a young Aer’s head, chasing the new, chasing the unknown, chasing tails. His voice intensified once again and as he tried to convey his ideas, the crowd reacted in a way he did not expect.
Instead of joining either his or her voice, ears hung low and gazes flicked between the two contestants as the voices in the crowd all fell silent, unable to compete. In a matter of two songs, it suddenly appeared as though they both had failed to please the crowd. Their voices, their emotions, were both honed to perfection, so why?
Ann’s bass still strummed behind their voices, and for the first time since they started, Lyre glanced back at Viril. To his surprise, she stared back and tapped in sync with Ann’s bass, and he joined in. Was this what she wanted now? Compete in the same rhythm to not confuse the crowd?
Viril let the smallest smile play over her snout as she started the first part of “Moonlight Dance”.
Lyre flinched backwards at her choice. It was not a song he’d choose, it required- “Oh.” It dawned on him what it required. It was a duet.
As she sang the first part, he prepared for the second. The song told the story of a princess lusting for life and trapped by responsibilities until a fateful meeting with a young and ambitious traveling bard. In a way, it was oddly fitting, and he quite enjoyed singing the part of the bard.
She swung her head towards him, and Lyre sang. He had intended to upstage her, to give the duet more of a competitive feeling, but the way the song was phrased, it was impossible to do.
As Viril’s conveyed longing as the trapped princess still coursed through the minds of the crowd, they melted along with the cheerful and light part of the bard.
As he passed back over to Viril, no dragon remained seated, and no wing folded as the song struck true. Elated and light as a feather, he bobbed along with his body. This was what they wanted. He had finally found what they wanted.
Viril spread her wings and showered him with raindrops as she sang and took off into the strings of rain. Lyre pressed himself so hard off the stage with a single push of his hind legs that the wind caught him immediately and he had to beat hard to catch up with Viril. Forcing themselves up through the sheets of rain, her voice grew more powerful, loud enough to be heard all the way through the entire village Tthe crowd spread their wings as well.
She circled around him and Lyre had to strain to keep up. His wings beat furiously and among the heavy breaths he drew, his voice threatened to fade. His wings lacked the size and strength, but she seemed to wait just at the very edge of his ability to do both, sing and fly. Wind whipped past almost silently in the wake of their voices and even the rain appeared to burn on his scales as his dragonheart blazed to keep him in the air and his voice firm.
Notes merged, but unlike before, the melodies did not fight. Emotions harmonized, sound waves merged as though they provided a wind to carry the other further ahead. Each word of hers struck his body like a thunderbolt of warmth and desire. Viril’s features had softened as her body rested on the wind and the verses sprung forth from her tongue.
Every Aer for miles had taken flight, following the circling pair of sirens upwards like a hurricane of fluttering wings and ears. Even Aer the size of Viril struggled to keep up, not because of the strength of their wings, but the pressure of their song. Certain, ambitious dragons raced ahead of the pack, but a few tail lengths away they dropped with a twitch and grin, struck by the same waves of intense virility and tempting promises of the “Moonlight Dance” that oscillated ever higher between them.
They reached the clouds and did not even hesitate as they smacked into the cool mist, never missing a single note at all. Despite the burn in his lungs, Lyre pushed his vocals even harder, not daring to slow down for her sake. A duet had to be finished. He broke through the clouds and up into the frigid air that made each drop on his scale an icy sting.
The full moon stood high above, lighting up the cloud layer as if it was day. They spiraled even higher, and he guessed she chose this song on purpose, knowing they would arrive exactly where it intended to arrive.
Each breath provided less air than the last as the air grew thinner, but their voices never faltered as they approached the last verses. His body trembled as she closed the distance between them, her voice making its way deep into every muscle and scale of his body like a sweet poison. Blackness edged around his mind as they neared the apex of their flight.
One last verse, one last verse, was all he needed to push the crowd over the edge and Viril along with them. She led the way, guided their minds, and his voice boldly pushed after her, delivering their passion like a precise landing.
They rose together on the last crescendo, surpassing peak after peak of what he thought possible.
I am ready to give us a chance
Cast away the hesitation, cast away the fright
Show the world this forbidden romance
Can not take this frustration, lead me through the night
Waves of pressure surged between them as they circled tighter and tighter as their voices reverberated like an echo. They crashed into his chest, washed through his entire body and left a tickle that longed for ever more. Louder, longer, he needed more of her voice and mobilized the last air in his lungs to join the pulsating song between them.
Joy reverberated atop the clouds in the beams of moonlight. It blew through the crowd of wings and elated chatter surrounding them like a spring wind. He wanted no end to this performance, even if it brought his voice close to tearing itself apart.
Judge me starlight!
Catch me moonlight!
Capture me! Envelop me! Be mine this night alone. Be mine this night alone.
Their voices rose one last time. Each song needed closure; pressure built deep within his body, bulging outwards midst the ripples coursing down his spine. Higher and higher it stoked the blazing heat inside and he held the last note at its peak, just to keep him and her on the very edge of finishing for just a little longer. But as his breath left his lungs and the strength in his voice faded, his muscles gave in. A wave of convulsion raced through his body, followed by another and all his muddled mind managed was to draw a scant breath and face Viril as silence enveloped him like a blanket of night sky. Pulsating shivers tickled down his scales and he finally let the last note fade.
Blissful nothing and emptiness, vast as the sky and cool as the clouds, took hold as he basked in the sudden absence of emotions coursing through his body and for those moments, the world made sense. Viril smiled, and he finally grasped her intentions. Song was not a competition, it was cooperation. Something she had tried to teach him before, but he performed solo, one dragon with more skill than everyone else.
The crowd dropped out of the air as if struck by a sudden gust, falling, enjoying their brief moment of true clarity as much as he did himself as he fell. He barely noted the cool wetness of the clouds as he dropped right through. Only a sudden tug at his arm brought him back to reality, as Viril grabbed him. He recollected his limbs and rolled into a more controlled descent.
On their way down the mountain, they passed writhing and twitching piles of Aer, barely clinging onto the rough cliffs, and watching their descent with glazed eyes and an expression of deep satisfaction and exhaustion alike. The further they descended, the more lively the perched dragons were. Even a few cries for an encore reached Lyre’s ears.
He’d like nothing more than to satisfy their lust for songs and passion for voice, but as he opened his mouth, Viril gave his shoulder another tug, telling him to follow down. “What do you say we rest our voices at the banquet instead? This crowd needs a break.” Her offer contained more than a suggestion. The tone was a command, a well-meant command.
“I see they can not quite match mine, or your endurance. I could give plenty of encores before growing sore.”
“You can not just please a crowd, Lyre. See to all their needs as the main act. That includes knowing when to slow down and when to pause,” she hummed and carried a little too much passion below her words that spread deep into his dragonheart like a curious flame and it stung a little too much in his sore body. “I am quite proud of you, this duet will be remembered for decades to come.” She gestured at their surroundings. “This is worth it, isn’t it? Seeing the results of your training and passion?”
“Yes!” Despite the fatigue resting in every muscle, he forced his body into a roll around her, facing her all the while.
His stunt was only met with a somewhat stern and all kind gaze, yet her voice shared the excitement of an Aer taking flight for the first time. “You surprised me. Part of me was not sure you would join in, that you had not at all learned what I wanted to show you. I never expected a result this impressive. The way our voices harmonized, I never noticed that during our lessons. As if you stopped trying to surpass me with all your might and went with the flow of the voice.”
He could neither deny nor confirm, as his mind had not yet caught up. All he could tell her was how it manifested inside him. “I felt the crowd. I wanted to show them what your voice, what our voices were capable of.” He wanted to be the best, but what did he measure himself on? Knocking out an entire tribe with the force of their voices couldn’t have been done alone after all. That should be his goal, to sing for two all on his own and telling her would show that he hadn’t learned his lesson at all.
“Consider this your graduation. I will consider you an equal.” The thrill in her voice intensified. “But I expect improvement when you return. If you return at all.”
He would travel the world, learn what more there was to learn, and then, when the time was right, they would meet once again, sing once again. Another duet that would shatter more than just the village. But he would not leave today, the night was still young.
“I had a fantastic teacher, after all. We brought the entire village to their wobbly knees.” He matched the thrill in her voice, in tone and suggestion. “Only you kept flying, but that is nothing I couldn’t alleviate with a little more time.” A duet between Aer was more than just a song after all, and the celebrations had barely started.
“Bold promises, as usual.” She banked right, heading to the third peak of the mountain towards her slightly isolated cave. A fantastic place to sing without interruption in the rain and distant thunder cracks.