James Maxey - Dragonforge

Graxen nodded. He could think of a dozen arguments, a hundred questions, and thousand frustrations he wanted to shout at this creature that stood before him. In the end, he knew words simply wouldn't matter. The past was past. Metron now represented a slender hope for a better future.

"The wind on this wall is worse than it would be below," Metron said. "It cuts into me like a knife."

Graxen turned his back to his father.

"Climb on," he said. "I'll take you down."

Once Metron had found a comfortable spot to rest below, sheltered from the wind, Graxen flew back up to the top of the wall. He didn't know when Nadala might show up, and he wanted to be in plain sight when she arrived. He perched next to the gargoyle and unstrapped the enormous book from his chest. He placed it on the gargoyle's back and opened its pages. During his many years as a student, Graxen had been repeatedly drilled in the art of debate; he suspected this training could prove useful. He thought it likely Nadala would react with disbelief when he explained what was involved in the mating process. He would need to carefully present each step as a logical extension of the step that preceded it.

He lost track of the time as he studied the manual. The sun was nearly gone when he turned the page to find himself confronted with a detailed drawing of a male sun-dragon's reproductive organ. The organ was depicted approximately life-sized, stretching diagonally across two pages, and was painted in vivid red and pink watercolors that seemed to glow in the dimming light.

A shadow fell across the book.

"What are you reading?" a female voice asked, full of curiosity.

Graxen spun around. "Nadala!" he yelped. "I didn't hear you approaching!"

"I can land as silently as a dandelion wisp when I wish," she said. "Is that a book behind you?"

Graxen held his wings in such a way that he blocked her sight of the illustration. He didn't know what her reaction might be to the lurid material.

"It's a work of anatomy," he explained. "Of sun-dragons."

"Can I see it?" she asked.

"I worry it might offend you," he said. "It's a matter of chance that…"

"Stand aside," she said, in a soldierly tone, snaking her long neck over his shoulder to get a glance at the concealed material.

She suddenly grew very quiet.

"Goodness," she said, a moment later.

"Please note this is not the organ of a sky-dragon," he said. "I don't want you to experience alarm. Or disappointment."

She took a step back and held out her fore-talons. Instinctively, he placed his own talons in hers. She squeezed them with a gentle pressure as they stared into each other's eyes.

"I find it charming that you're embarrassed," she said.

"I hope you continue to find it charming," said Graxen. "I fear I may embarrass myself repeatedly in the coming days."

"The coming days, the coming weeks, the coming years," said Nadala, squeezing his talons tighter. "I've made my choice, Graxen. I'm leaving the Nest. You and I will carve out a new life together somewhere, even if we have to cross the haunted mountains."

"I'm happy to hear this," said Graxen. "I'm even happier to tell you it may not come to this. There is a chance, however slender, that our love could be sanctioned by the matriarch."

Nadala shook her head. "You're deluded to entertain such fantasies. I know you're her son, but the matriarch will never allow us to be together. And what if she did let us breed? It's not a brief tryst ending in pregnancy that I desire. I want you as my life-mate. Why should only sun-dragons know the pleasure of a life-long love?"

"It's as if you're speaking the words that dwell in my heart," said Graxen. "The matriarch won't listen to me. But there is one she may listen to. Indeed, someone she did listen to, once, or else I wouldn't exist."

"What are you talking about?"

"My father," said Graxen.

"Metron?" she asked.

Graxen felt as if he might topple from the wall. "You… you know that? How can you know that?"

"Everyone at the Nest knows it," said Nadala. "It's whispered in the dead of night, the tale of how even the matriarch once knew love. It's a story that brings shame to some and hope to others."

Graxen trembled. Nadala stroked his fore-talons.

"What's wrong," she asked.

"This has been the central mystery of my life," said Graxen. "I would have paid any price to know who my father was. And now I learn that everyone at the Nest knew the truth? It's difficult to accept that the secret I most longed to discover was common knowledge to fully half our species."

"I didn't know you didn't know," said Nadala, sounding apologetic. "When I told you that Sparrow was sired by Metron's brother, I thought you understood that her aggression toward you was a matter of familial pride. She sees herself as the true inheritor of Metron's bloodline. I promise I never meant to deceive you."

Graxen tried to control his emotions. There was nothing rational about the feelings swirling in his mind. Why should he be angry at Nadala? Why should he suddenly feel such a sense of loss? How would his life be different if she had blurted out the truth when they first met?

"I'm confused," Nadala said, looking concerned. "You obviously know that Metron is your father; I take it you only learned recently. Who told you?"

"I told him," a voice shouted from below.

"A spy!" Nadala shouted, releasing Graxen's claws. She leapt from the ledge, diving into shadows toward the voice.

"Wait!" Graxen shouted, but it was too late. There was a terrible grunt below as Nadala found her target. Graxen leapt down to join Nadala, and found she had pinned Metron roughly to the ground. The old dragon had a look of terror in his eyes.

"It's a tatterwing!" she growled.

"Nadala," said Graxen."That's Metron."

Nadala's eyes widened in sudden understanding. She released her grip on the elderly biologian.

"My apologies," she said.

"You have nothing to apologize for," said Metron, struggling to stand and failing. "I am nothing but a tatterwing now. I deserve whatever contempt is heaped upon me."

Graxen moved to Metron's side and helped him rise. A moment later, the ancient biologian found his balance on unsteady legs.

"Why is he here?" Nadala asked Graxen. Was there a hint of fear in her voice?

"I want to see the matriarch once more," said Metron. "Graxen has told me about your situation. You two are not the first sky-dragons to find your desires in conflict with the carefully crafted eugenics of our race. There was once a logic to our strict planning. A thousand years ago, the dragon races were birthed from a stock of fewer than thirty individuals. Inbreeding could have doomed our species. Instead, careful planning guided our kind through the dangerous maze of a confined genespace. However, a thousand years have passed. Mutations have arisen, and there's been enough variation that one race became two-for, you see, sun-dragons and sky-dragons have both grown from this small group of common ancestors. Our race has flourished due to its intelligent design; but, in the long term, nature provides a more powerful shaping force through natural selection."

"I thought we were the product of natural selection," said Graxen. "You yourself taught that we're descended from the ancient reptiles called dinosaurs."

"All lies," said Metron. "We were created in a laboratory by humans. The first dragons were designed to be hunted by men for entertainment. A thousand years of history have brought the cycle of predator and prey full circle. I shed no tears during the sun-dragon's ritualistic hunt of humans."

"Humans… created us?" said Nadala. "How?"

"It's difficult to believe, I know," said Metron. "Still, you would have to be blind not to recognize that mankind was once the dominant species on this world. A thousand years ago, they had access to technologies we can only imagine. The brutes who now toil in the fields once strode this world like gods."