Chapter 14: Dragons Take Flight

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"Is this real, or is it a dream?" Uvie asks, knowing very well that her sleeping body has been left behind in her hut. But the lands her spirit walks through, is it illusion of dream, or is it a true vision? Is the Auberon who stands before the real Auberon, or an image conjured from her mind?

"So much of what you call reality is illusion," he answers her, privy to the questions she did not ask out loud, "And as for me, my little one, you've taken a piece of me inside you, and I am always with you. This place," he gestures at the air around them, "Is our creation."

"Our creation?" Uvie asks, bewildered, "But it was all here when I arrived."

Auberon smiles, and turns her attention to the assemblage of objects at the edge of the pool. "Whenever you dream, you create a world which disappears again when you wake. I do this consciously, but your kind, it would seem does it without thinking. I created this world to meet with you, but you were already here, and as I built the world, you furnished it, though you are not aware of having done so. And here is a bit of your handiwork whose meaning eludes me. Tell me, Uvie, who is this figure, and what are the symbols that surround her?"

"I don't know," Uvie whispers, awestruck. She's never seen the likes of these things before, yet they tug on her with their familiarity, as though they've been part of her for all her life.

"Strange," Auberon says, speaking to himself, as has long been his habit, "Your awareness is so limited, you don't know the half of what you know." He turns his attention back out toward her, "That is a mystery we will have to solve, in time. For now, you must practice your skills, learn to control the power you hold. I want you to throw a ball of flames into the bowl there," he says, pointing to the bowl laid on the pedestal before them.

"First, you must summon the flame," he instructs her. 

Uvie imagines a ball of flames forming between her hands, drawing on the power inside to will it into being. Auberon watches, noting how she uses her hands, though magic is born entirely from the mind. It is the way of her kind, he thinks, using their hands to make the tools they use, to build their huts.

"Now, throw it," he says when her ball of flame is strong enough.

Uvie thrusts out her hand, tossing the ball forward, but when it is mere inches away, the ball unfolds and the flames dissipate.

"It's not like tossing a stone," Auberon says gently, "You must hold the ball with your mind until it reaches its destination."

"I failed," she says, her shoulders slumping.

"You have not failed," he answers, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. "You have much to learn, my little one," he whispers, brushing his cheek against her shoulder as she presses in closer to him.

"Auberon," she whispers his name, wishing she knew his heart as well as he seemed to know hers.

"But you do," he says in response to her unspoken desires, "You have only to listen..." He looks up suddenly as the skies around them fill with a hideous shrieking. "Dragons," he says, his voice become hard with anger, "They are making their move." 

"Dragons?" she asks.

"We share these lands with some very powerful and dangerous creatures," he says, "I must go now and deal with them."

"But..."

"There is no time now, my little love," he says with a gentle caress, "Keep your people close to your huts and stay inside while the dragons take to the skies. I will be with you again soon."

Uvie struggles against her waking mind, determined not to leave the beautiful dream, to let Auberon get away from her so quickly.

"Spirit Talker, we need you," Tor says, breaking her free of the dream world she clinged to.

Outside, the skies shake with the piercing screams she heard in her dreams.

Uvie follows Tor outside, watches with him as the great winged lizards soar above them, crying out with fierce roars as they go.

"Dragons," Uvie breathes in awe.

"Dragons?" Tor asks, bewildered, "Tell me Spirit Talker, what do we do?"

"They are powerful and dangerous creatures," she says, remembering what Auberon had told her,  "We must stay inside while they are flight."

"But, how long will that be?" her chief insists, "We cannot hide forever. We must hunt..."

"I will consult with my spirit," Uvie says, "For today, at least, we stay out of sight."

Riain and Shayeleigh had set up a camp very much like a dragon's nest, separate from both of their kinds, and when Tearhne sent him away, that is where Aymeri retreated with Ico.

"She won't cast you out," Riain assures his nest brother, "And if she did, I would follow you."

"I couldn't ask that of you, brother," Aymeri says, "A male without a nest is nothing."

"So they've taught us," Riain answers, "Being alone in the world would be awful. But we wouldn't be alone. We have our own nest. We are not, and never could be nothing." He wraps his arms protectively around Shayeleigh, carrying his child inside her. What he has here is far more important than his position in Tearhne's nest, and only his loyalty to Aymeri keeps him from leaving it behind completely.

Riain is adjusting easily to change, Aymeri notes, and even seems happy at the thought of leaving the rest of dragon society behind. And little wonder, considering the way dragon society and even his own mate treated him, like he was less than the rest of them, not worthy of his markings. "Our own nest," he muses, considering a future where male dragons aren't forced to fight for positions in the limited numbers of female-lead nests just to be part of their society, a future where they could choose a mate of their own from the fae and live on their own and yet still be considered a true dragon, not an outcast. Could the more violent dragon temperament adapt itself to such a life, he wonders, thinking what some of his kind might do if they were freed of the constraints of their strict laws. Tearhne believes dragons chose isolation to protect themselves from others, like the fae with their powerful magic, and there might be truth to that, but Aymeri believes it may have done as much to protect the world from unfettered dragons. "Talfryn," he says, thinking of his son and wondering what the world will be like when he comes of age, what changes his father will bring to, "I could not just walk away from my son."

"We are in the same position," Riain says, "Two nests, two mates, and one child to protect and raise."

"You chose not to tell Tearhne of your plans on purpose," Ico says when they lie alone together. She'd been puzzling over this since Aymeri returned with his story of how he talked the females down from war, and was then scolded for speaking out of turn by his mate, "You thought she might deny you your right to speak, or to make the speech for you instead, so you passed her by and did as you wished."

"It seems you know my mind very well," Aymeri says with a smile.

"And on that night when I first came to your nest, you offered to go away with me so that Tearhne and your brothers would not be held accountable for actions along with you, you knew they would follow you, didn't you? You had no intention of abandoning your position."

"It's my nest as much as it is Tearhne's," Aymeri answers her, "I've made sure of that. My brothers are loyal to me, not just the nest."

"And it's worked well for you when you have the same goals, when Tearhne believes you follow her lead. But now..."

"You think I've stepped too far forward?" he asks her.

"We fae do as we please. Auberon and Tania like to play at being our leaders, but, truly, we have no laws, no structure to our society. I cannot judge what you do, my love, I can only try to understand what you are doing."

The intimate conversations of both couples is interrupted by the sudden appearance of unicorn, a creature rarely seen by even the fae.

The foursome stand to watch in wonder as the magical animal goes about his business.

The silent awe of the moment is soon shattered as a piercing cry rips through the skies. "Aithne," Aymeri growls, recognizing his mother's voice. A great wind rises as dozens of dragons take flight, filling the air with their calls and the beating of their wings.

"What is happening?" Auberon asks, appearing suddenly behind them.

"Aithne, one of our elders, calls for her allies. She's taking them away from this place, to lead them somewhere where there are no fae, where they can live in isolation," Aymeri answers, translating the shrieking cries of his mother.

"They are just leaving?" Auberon asks, "After being so intent on a fight?"

"The council decided against war. To go against the ruling of the council is as much against our laws as allowing your kind to see what we are was before this decision. My mother would not break that law just to have her way. But there is no law against taking her nest and going away from us. Such a thing has never even been considered," Aymeri says, "It's an extreme decision, for her. But from the sounds of it, three nests have chosen to follow her into the unknown rather than stay here and make peace with the fae."

"You won't cast Aymeri out," Seirian says, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"In other nests, the Second might be glad for the chance to move up in rank," Tearhne answers with just a touch of bitter on her tongue.

"Wasn't it always our way to not be like other nests?" he answers with a question.

"Our way," she says with a snort, "I think that all along it's been Aymeri's way, and the rest of us don't matter."

"And isn't that why you chose him as First? He was always the leader. Even when were children, he'd lead us in games. Tearhne, we are all of us only what we are, and it doesn't matter who chooses our course, as long as it is the right course." Seirian's voice is silvery smooth, and it leads Tearhne back into her memories, their shared memories of growing up together, the three of them age mates and inseparable. It was not long after she and Aymeri were joined as mates that her First invited their childhood companion into their nest as his Second. 

Tearhne turns in his embrace to face him, "Who would you choose," she asks, "If I cast him out, would you stay with me or follow your brother?"

"You won't cast him out," Seirian deflects her question.

The night's quiet is disturbed by the shrieking call of an elder dragon.

"Aithne is leaving?" Seirian asks, hardly able to believe it.

"She could not just accept our decision," Tearhne sighs, "So instead she must tear us apart. Still, it's better that she leaves than start a war with her own kind."

Arienh left her nest at first light, as she had been doing everyday now since Kirwyn had found the place to start their nest, to meet with him and talk of their future. Though he was still considered a member of his mother's nest until Arienh came of age and would be able to mark him as her own, she knew he would not go with Aithne when she left suddenly in the night, taking three other nests with her. So she set out to meet him, with no fear that the events of the night before would have changed anything.

And Arienh did find Kirwyn right where she expected him to be, but not like this, beaten, bloodied and unconscious on the ground.

Arienh ran to the first place she could think of to find help. "Aymeri," she calls, "Is Aymeri here?"

"Calm yourself, child, and tell me what's happened," Tearhne says.

Arienh gives the a breathless and sobbing explanation of her presence in their nest, "Please, he needs help!"

"Aithne turned on her own son," Tearhne says, hardly able to believe it, but it seemed the only explanation.

"She would have turned on Aymeri," Seirian says to her, "I am a healer," he adds, addressing Arienh, "I'll go with you."

"Can you help him?" Arienh asks desperately.

"Aye, I've healed worse injuries," Seirian assures her as he examines the young dragon's wounds, "You've seen this before, haven't you? A dragon taken down by his own nest?"

Arienh nods, sobbing. "Why would they attack Kirwyn?"

"I'd assume he refused to go with her when she left. If Aithne meant to kill him, he'd be dead. This attack was a message for those of us that wouldn't follow her."

"That's horrible!" Arienh exclaims.

"It is," Seirian agrees, setting to work on Kirwyn's wounds.