Roger Parkinson: Summon Your Dragons

And then came the dreams.

Whether they were dreams or visions he did not know. In the Chasm there was little difference between waking and sleeping. They were half hearted, wispy things, merely an after taste and a sense of loss that there was nothing more than the wind and the darkness. Mere gaps in the emptiness that opened behind his back and snapped quickly shut when he turned to look.

Once, and only once, he thought he had seen it clearly. He glimpsed a power, an awful, all consuming power that would have terrified him if he had not seen beyond it to a deep well of sadness, something that in all his terrors he had never seen before. The thing was so vast, so powerful and yet so sad that the mere glimpse he was given changed him.

He had seen more than terror and darkness. He could no longer cringe and clutch the cliff face. There was something else, something wonderful.

Today he had fought off the numbness at last, thrust away the paralysing fear and climbed upwards. So high the cliff rose! Many times he had told himself it was folly. Did he expect the cliff to end? Surely it went on forever, there was nothing more. But he drove himself on, remembering that brief glimpse of wonder and forcing aside the terror.

His perseverance was rewarded. As he struggled over the lip of the Chasm the great dragon was there to meet him in all its glory. Here, at last, he could see clearly what he had seen in shadowy form. Here was wonder clothed in flesh.

The dragon had bathed him in gentle fire and, incredibly, he had felt speech on his tongue. Words flowed into his mind for the first time, for the Chasm had no language but terror. More than words. His chasm-dulled senses sprang to life. He could see the golden sun in the sky and the wide plains of Kelerish made his head spin. But most of all he could see the dragon.

It was so perfect. Its silver green scales flickered in the sunlight and its great jaws gave him the kiss of dragon fire. Everything sang with beauty. The round boulders of the Tor and even the far off mountains seemed to glorify the dragon with their own echoing perfection.

But the dragon could not stay. Rather than continue to awe him it had flown away. He was touched that he should be allowed to experience the attention of one so magnificent. He instinctively knew there was more than one such creature, the same way he knew what it was called. And he knew that they had made him, he knew that they had called him from the Chasm.

When he first saw these men from this New World he assumed that the dragon had sent them. They looked like dragons in a way, especially the one called Althak with his shining breastplate and his cloak that blew about him like wings. But when the one named Hrangil had kissed his feet he had seen into his thoughts and sensed the awe he had felt; and the other man, Menish, had been troubled by him and asked him strange questions. The others had been afraid of him. In fact, they had all been afraid of him.

All except Althak.

Althak was untroubled by him. It was Althak who had given him clothes and Althak who had placed him on the horse. Althak was different from the others in many ways. He was taller, compared to the others he was a giant, his hair was yellow brown and his beard was thick. His clothing was bright and he wore a bronze helmet with spreading wings. The others were short and dark-haired with wispy beards and almond shaped eyes. Their clothing was dark and sombre and they wore no armour, not even helmets. Furry caps covered their heads, though there was metal in them too.

Some of them seemed to not quite trust Althak.

He liked the horse. She had been afraid of the dragon, he knew that, but he also knew that she was an ignorant beast and should be excused for such foolishness. He reassured her as best he could by touching her mind with his own, and he soon found her to be a helpful animal. He could touch her with his thoughts and she would turn from side to side or change her pace as he directed, although she mostly wanted to just keep with the others.

At noon when they stopped Althak handed him one of the little cakes and he gave it to the horse, for he knew she wanted it. Althak had rebuked him, laughing as he did so. The cakes were for men; the horses could eat grass, he had said. But the man from the Chasm did not understand, he had never seen food before.

When they continued in the afternoon his awe at his new surroundings abated enough for him to wonder about his companions. They all carried swords and shields, he knew the words for the objects but not their use. Althak’s shield was big to match his size and a dragon in flight was painted on it. The others’ were much smaller and carried no device. They seemed clumsy things, difficult to carry.

He also wondered why they bridled their horses. When they had stopped he had taken the opportunity to look at the bridle of his own horse. A leather thong stretched through the mare’s mouth and was attached to metal plates on either side. His reins were attached to these. Althak explained to him how to pull on the reins to control the horse but it seemed unnecessary when all he had to do was to touch his mind to the beast’s. A brief tug at the reins brought an instant response from the horse when he tried it, as well as a peeved complaint, so he did not try again.

When they entered the forest he had no more time to wonder about such things. There was so much life there. Trees, birds, squirrels and mice, all were a source of amazement to his so recently opened eyes. Yet not only to his eyes. He looked into the minds of the small animals and felt their thoughts. The bird was singing with delight at the sunshine. The squirrel was hungry and searching for food.

As dusk gathered he became uneasy. He had never seen night before, for the Chasm was always gloomy. Yet as the night descended it was as if the Chasm were re-enfolding him. He shivered, though not with cold. The world was changing, it was no longer a place of light and air. He could no longer see clearly.

By the time they stopped he was glancing fearfully around him. The air felt close and thick and the darkness threatened him. Was this another dream? Would he wake now back in the Chasm? But he had never had dreams like this. He would have asked Althak what was happening, for he rode beside him, but fear caught his tongue. What if this was what the upper world was really like? He did not want his fears confirmed into facts.

“What's the matter, my friend?”

It was Althak, he had dismounted and had motioned the man from the Chasm to do likewise. But he sat there, frozen with his fear of the unknown. He could not see the ground clearly. Was it still there? Or was there a chasm waiting for him to leap into?

With an effort he groped for words. Were the words real? It was like a slippery handhold but he had to use it.

“I… can’t see,” he choked.

It seemed meaningless but Althak nodded as if he understood. He reached his big arms around him, lifted him bodily from the horse and set him down. The ground was there after all.

“You're cold. The fire will be lit in a moment.”

Fire! The word kindled joy and comfort in his heart. It made him think of dragons.

The rest of the company had been moving about in the darkness and he could now make out a pile of something they were building in the middle of the glade. There was a sudden gleam of orange in the centre of the pile, which flickered and grew, casting shadows all around.

The man from the Chasm walked towards it, heedless of everything else. Here was his dragon in the darkness. It grew into a blaze, crackling and sparking in the branches the others had placed on the pile. Surely a dragon had done this.

He bowed down before it then sat entranced, staring at the flames, unaware of the murmuring of the others. Someone sat down beside him. He knew without turning that it was Menish, Althak stood not far away and Hrangil was near too. Menish was exhausted. He wondered why.