Dragon (A Histories of Purga Novel)

A flood of white, intense light lit up the darkness. Darvian, his mother, and his sister stopped in their tracks as that light threw their shadows ahead of them. They turned around but the light winked out and they couldn’t see a thing. Then the screaming started and his mother grabbed his hand and squeezed it as hard as she could. He could feel her sharp nails digging into his skin but he didn’t let it bother him.

His jaw set into a hard line and he forced the very real fear that his father was dead to the back of his mind.

Keep going. Never look back.

He clenched and unclenched his teeth, popping out the muscles of his jaw into stark relief.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice commanding. He could see that his mother and sister were about to cry. He looked at their eyes and saw the hope that Quent Tims was still alive wither and die. It hurt him to the core to see that. To experience it. But he shoved that to the back of his mind as well and pushed all of them to keep going.

“Never look back,” he said, letting the words fill his mind. He let them stoke a fire of resolve in the center of his chest.

He grabbed his mother’s hand first and then Aeri’s. He forced himself to keep looking ahead at the endless stretches of woods and trees.

They walked like that for hours. He kept a hard pace, one that the girls had trouble keeping up with. Finally, his mother collapsed to the ground, crying hysterically. He stopped and waited for her to get up, but she never did.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

He knelt down next to her, putting a comforting hand on her back. She looked up at him with miserable, sad eyes.

“Okay,” he responded. “We’ll make camp here. Aeri?”

His sister looked at him, her eyes weary and half-lidded. She looked as if she was going to pass out from pure exhaustion at any second.

He gave the pack to her.

“Hold this,” he said quickly. “And make us some mattresses. I’ll put up a tent.”

She picked a blueprint and the mechpaks on her arms opened. The nanos quickly converged into three different mattresses, each one as soft as feathers. Aeri had always teased him relentlessly about being able to adjust her nanos to make things soft. It had been a constant irritant to him that he had never mastered the skill, but he was glad she’d been able to now.

With his own nanos, he created a somewhat bigger dome than before and added a floor to it so they wouldn’t have to worry about insects. He kept the inside of the tent opaque and made sure to cloak the outside. He also formed two small, stream-lined planes that hovered in the air. He looked at both of them and sent them flying out of the tent. They would patrol the perimeter around their little camp and if they found anything, they would alert him instantly.

When he was done creating what they needed for the night, he went to their mother and guided her inside the tent. She lay on one of the mattresses and went to sleep. Aeri went in next and was fast asleep a second later, but Darvian stayed awake. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of dropping his guard. He had to protect them. He had to make sure they stayed safe. It was his father’s last request and he’ll be damned if he was going to fail in that promise.

He tried to make himself stay awake but eventually, however, exhaustion swept over him too and he fell back on the mattress, asleep before his head even hit it.

That night, he dreamed of many things. Most of it was about nasty battles, pulses of red light, explosions. Death. Blood. He saw the mutilated corpses of his friends. His family. His sister. His mother. His father’s sightless eyes peered at him as if condemning him for their deaths. Accusing him of even being alive, as if that were some kind of insult.

He woke with a start, stifling the scream that threatened to escape his throat. He glanced around with bleary eyes and found his mother and sister still asleep. He spoke to his nanos again and had them create a door. He opened it and stepped outside, immediately hearing a series of beeping sounds. He looked and saw his two hovering planes coming at him. He listened to them for a second. They found nothing and the area around their camp was clear of Blak Soldiers, the monstrous thing from yesterday night, or any predators. He was glad for that, but he was still cautious and wary.

He grabbed the pack that his father had given him and started making breakfast. There were some instant eggs, powdered milk, and some dried beef. When everything was finished, he went into the tent and woke up his mother and his sister.

They ate quickly, but quietly. No one was in the mood to talk and a nervous energy churned around them. Their thoughts constantly swirled around and around, always circling back to Quent. They could still hear the sounds of battle as they were trying to sleep. Now, however, it was completely quiet.

Darvian didn’t like that. It felt ominous. It felt like a sign of bad things, but he forced himself not to think about it. He hoped that his mother and sister didn’t either, although he was sure that his mother was. He could see her eyes glancing nervously in the general direction of the refugee camp.

They finished their food and broke camp, the nanos flowing back into his and Aeri’s respective mechpaks.

Then they started walking again.

Darvian still kept a hard pace. He wanted to be out of the woods and on their way as far from danger as he could get, but his mother and Aeri were having troubles. They became exhausted quickly and when he realized that, he slowed down a little.

****

It took them nearly two and a half weeks of constant hiking through the forest (with Darvian checking and rechecking the routes his drones laid out for them) before they reached its end. The food that Darvian’s father had packed was gone and they had resorted to hunting game in the woods and finding edible plants (a much more difficult task than Darvian ever would’ve thought) for food. Thankfully, water sources were pretty abundant in the lush forest and they’d been able to keep a steady supply of water on hand.

Then, one night, they plowed through a particularly dense bit of brush. When they got through to the other side, they were at the forest’s edge and the desert loomed large in front of them.

Darvian breathed a huge sigh of relief. He whistled to his drones and had them dissolve and flow back into his mechpaks. He wouldn’t be needing their directions anymore.

They all looked out at the desert in front of them. The moon hung in the sky, spreading its silvery light across the landscape.

The depressing sight of all that sand was a huge weight on him. They were going to have to fly over it. It was that simple. It would take too long to trek on foot and there were no easy sources of food and water in the desert. Besides, he wouldn’t subject his mother and sister to that.

Thankfully, Rone had given him the blueprint to a flightpack he’d created a long time ago. He’d never had occasion to actually try it out, but he was out of options now.

It was either that, or stay and be killed like everyone else.

****

Rone sat cross-legged in the grass and dirt at the edge of the Qarri forest, looking out at the immense desert before him. He couldn’t see Roanoke from here, but that didn’t matter. He could still see in his mind its tall buildings and its brightly lit streets. He could see the Road of Varlamagne with its tall statues of the kingdom’s previous monarchs throughout their entire history. He pictured the tall and majestic Citadel, his home. He saw the beauty of Grand Park (a massive park with sprawling green hills, sculptures, fountains, trees, art and more in almost the exact heart of Roanoke) and the Royal Gardens. He saw the beauty of his city’s architecture. He thought about all of these things…and didn’t feel even an ounce of homesickness, he realized. In fact, he felt a strange disconnect with his home. He didn’t really feel part of Roanoke anymore. He thought he should feel bad about that, but he didn’t. He enjoyed his freedom. He enjoyed being able to dictate the terms of his fate.

It was selfish. He knew that. The guilt he felt towards his people proved it. He felt like he was abandoning not just his father, but Roanoke as a whole. That he was abandoning his duty to them. He thought about his father and wondered, not for the first time, why the King hadn’t sent anyone to find him. It wasn’t like him. He always kept Rone on a tight leash. It seemed reasonable to assume that he would send a group to try and find him. Deep down, however, he was glad no one had come for him. His time with the Terraquois could prove invaluable.

He felt a slight throb from his amputated leg and a faint tingle, but he was accustomed to it now so the sensations no longer bothered him. It had been a little over two weeks since he had first woken up in Heari’s hut. The strangest days of his life, without a doubt. He’d been so afraid of being in the enemy’s clutches: injured, alone, and utterly helpless. He was surprised to learn that they were neither savage nor were they as vicious as the stories he’d been told since birth indicated they were. Except Niku, of course. He seemed to prove them all and the incessant little twit continued to bother him. Others were hostile to him as well, but they stayed clear by order of Keiara’s father.

Tarvo was fearsome and intimidating on a scale he’d never felt before. He’d heard stories of the massive man. His own father had fought him and barely survived the ordeal. It was awe-inspiring to even be in his presence.

Inevitably, however, his thoughts drifted past his current situation and settled on Keiara. He seemed to be thinking of her nearly every second of the day. He just couldn’t help himself. He knew his father would be absolutely furious to know that he was falling in love with a Terraquois girl.

One of the enemy.

But they weren’t. They weren’t their enemy and haven’t been for a long time. He searched his memory of the recent battles their two races had fought and realized something shameful. His people had instigated almost every one of them. The Battle at Ledun had been the last one he could think of and he knew that his people had attacked first. His father had commanded his men go into the forest and burn Ledun out of the trees.

“Gar told me I could find you here,” a voice said.

He turned and saw Keiara drop about twenty feet off a cleverly hidden ladder to the forest floor. She grunted as she landed, but was unharmed. Above her, getting ready to jump down the minute his sister was out of the way, was Asher.

Rone enjoyed Keiara’s company more, but liked spending time with Asher too. The boy was extremely intelligent, and had an immense well of common sense that helped him see solutions to problems that others were too thick-headed to notice.

Plus, he got a big kick out of seeing him transform into a hawk. He still wasn’t sure how it worked and suddenly his curiosity got the best of him.

“How do your people change their form?” he asked Keiara as she sat next to him. He noticed how close her hand came to his and he grasped it without thinking. She jerked slightly in response and he almost pulled away, but when he looked at her he found her smiling back.

“Our people have a deep connection to nature,” she started. Her free hand swept across the air in front of her, encompassing everything in front of them. “Each animal. Each plant. The very earth itself. We can hear them. And when we do, it changes us. It resonates inside each Terraquois.”

“And then what?” he asked, listening with rapt attention.

“Then you can tap into that power and change yourself into the form that is closest to your true nature,” she explained.

“I have never seen you change,” he replied, offhandedly. “I’d like to see what your true nature looks like.”

She didn’t reply and went silent for a long time, just staring out into the world in front of them.

“Kei doesn’t change,” Asher suddenly said. He sat down on Rone’s other side, staring into the desert with them.

Keiara looked away, her eyes full of embarrassment.

“Why can’t you change?”

“No one knows,” she responded, her eyes cast downward in shame. “I can hear the voices of the world around me, but still, I am unable to tap into the power that would allow it. I feel like Heari knows something, but every time I try to talk to her about it, she quickly changes the subject.”

“Mom and dad don’t talk about it either. They think there’s something wrong with her,” Asher piped in.

“Asher!” she exclaimed. If she’d been closer to him, she would’ve punched him on the arm. “They do not.”

“Yes they do,” he replied, nodding his head vigorously.

“I’m sure it will happen,” Rone told her as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “When it is meant to.”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking away. “It’s very frustrating. I feel like something is blocking me, somehow. Some kind of power bigger than anything I’ve felt before and I have no chance of breaching its walls.”

“When it is meant to,” Rone repeated, getting up and heading to the ladder. It was late and he was growing tired.

“How do your tiny machines work?” Asher suddenly asked, staring at the silver prosthetic leg that Rone had created to replace his real one.

Rone’s left hand went to his thigh and rubbed it. The prosthetic was comfortable, he supposed. He could even run and fight with it. The only problem was that it would still throb occasionally and every once in a while a burst of tingling sensation would explode from his stump.

Rone turned around and gestured for Asher to come over. The boy got up with glee and came to stand directly in front of the Rook.

“You see these?” he asked, pointing to his mechpaks. There were two of them, one embedded into the flesh of each forearm. They were octagonal in shape and in the center was a slight depression with horizontal lines striping its surface.

“Yeah,” Asher said, his eyes alight with curiosity.

“These are called mechpaks. Each one has millions and millions of these tiny, microscopic robots called nanobots in them. And each one of those tiny robots are on the same frequency as that person’s brainwaves. It gives us the ability to control them. We can change their color. We change their hardness or softness. We can even have them mimic certain materials like metal or cloth. And we can also create things but for those we use what’s called blueprints. They’re like drawings, only once we activate one, the nanos race to create whatever is on the drawing. That’s how most people create things. A small group of people, like myself, can make things if we hold the image in our heads perfectly, every last detail. We don’t need blueprints. Like my leg here.”

“Can I see you do something else?” Asher asked.

“Asher, don’t be so rude,” Keiara stated.

“No, it’s okay,” Rone replied. “I don’t mind.” He focused on Asher again. “What do you want me to make?”

“Uh…how about something that can fly?” he asked, unsure of himself.

Rone smiled. Creating drones was always fun. He liked to challenge himself by making them bigger and more fantastical than the ones before it.

“Ready?” Rone smiled when he saw that Keiara was also watching avidly. He slowed his thoughts for a minute and then pictured in his mind what he wanted. When every last detail was fixed there, he called out to his nanos. The vents on his mechpaks opened and the nanos came forth, swirling and merging until a hovering craft with slim lines and a futuristic design appeared. He grabbed the plane and held it for a moment as a thought gripped him. He let his mind reach out to the tiny robots and then he focused on reprogramming them. It took a long time for him to get the programming just right. When he was done, he let the drone drift over to Asher where it just hovered next to his head.

“Now it’s yours,” he said, smiling when he saw Asher’s eyes light up with the pure joy only a kid could manage. “It will be with you always. If you want it to change its shape, all you have to do is tell it what you want and it will do it.”

“Ball,” Asher said. The drone rippled and then molded itself into a ball. The sphere immediately dropped to the ground. “Hammer.” It changed again. “Bird.” It changed into a miniature eagle. “Flyer.” Then it was the drone again, humming quietly. “That is awesome!”

“I thought you’d like it,” Rone said, ruffling the boy’s dark hair. “Call that payment for all the times I’ve made you turn into a hawk.”

“Thanks,” Asher replied. He went to the ladder and started climbing it. The drone followed obediently after him.

“That was really nice of you,” Keiara said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay. I was happy to do it. You guys have been so good to me through all of this. It was the least I could do.”

He smiled at her and stared into her eyes. A powerful need to be closer to her suddenly overwhelmed him so he took a few steps until he was directly in front of her. He leaned his forehead toward hers until they were nearly touching. He could hear her breath hitch in her throat.

Keiara looked up at him with nervous eyes, but something else as well. A quiet longing.

Rone brought his mouth closer to her, hesitated for a moment, and then kissed her. Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined and he put all of his love and passion for her into it. She returned the kiss, tentatively at first, and then with more depth and feeling. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity, the world falling and slipping away from them.

With one hand, Rone gripped the small of her back while the other wound itself into the dark curls of her hair.

Finally, she broke it off and stepped away. He felt his heart dip when he realized she was crying.

“I’m sorry…I can’t,” she said.

Without another word, she went to the ladder and flew up it, leaving him feeling dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure what happened and he reviewed the events in his mind. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done to offend her.

He looked up the tree’s long trunk and found the dwindling figure of Keiara up there. He felt slightly confused, but there was one thing he was sure of. He had to talk to her. He had to make things right.

He started up the ladder after her.