#whispering shadow

Pell, unconscious and revealed to be beyond even the healing on a day dragon, was humbling.  They’d needed Jack’s help to get him down from where he’d been limply tied to Firestorm’s saddle, behind Nolita, and Nolita’s agitated cleaning rituals only drew her away for a brief moment, rushed faster than Elian had ever known her to do them before, before she returned to his side.

In the back of his mind, Elian could feel Ra’s wonder at a rider of a day dragon acting so protectively of a night dragon rider – and not just the riders.  Shadow was twice the size of any other dragon around them, yet Firestorm had still positioned himself between her and the rest of the host, although Elian suspected she had hardly noticed, between her own pain and her rider’s awful state.

Pell is dying, Aurora whispered, her voice quiet and sombre.  Firestorm has tried to heal him several times, but he has been unsuccessful in anything except keeping death at bay for a while longer.

Firestorm and Nolita’s explanation had been brief and jumbled, but Elian thought he had the gist of what had happened: they’d been ambushed by night dragons and Pell and Shadow had drawn the attacks so that Firestorm and Nolita could escape.  Somehow, the opposing night dragons had managed to injure Pell.  Badly.

Fatally, even, if it was beyond Firestorm’s ability to heal, although neither he nor Nolita, it seemed, planned on giving up despite the clear futility.

Behind Elian was a song, muffled and for his ears only.  It had been a constant, since he’d turned around with the orb in his hands and looked at Longfang’s missing eye, only for the dusk dragon to refuse.  We do not know the full capabilities of the orb, Aurora had said, passing on his words.  And he does not feel right, that his sacrifice be overridden so easily.

The dawn orb had healed Elian entirely, when he’d laid hands on it, and he could feel that if he chose to let it, it could heal anything.  It could restore the eye taken to be the sacrifice from the dusk dragons, it could bring back a rider from the brink of death.  Its purpose was to revive the fading Oracle.

They’d met Barnabas, before they’d seen Firestorm and Shadow flying in, and he had been concerned at Elian’s own healing, and relieved that he hadn’t healed Longfang.

“All the orbs, it is said, have their own lure,” he’d said.  “But they are all finite in what they can do.  I do not know how much restorative power the dawn orb holds, but I fear that if it is used too much, it will lose the ability to do what we need most.  After all, it is only a single embryo.  Do not use it again, Elian, except for the Oracle itself.”

At the time, the words had sounded sensible.  They still sounded sensible, but now Elian thought they had been a warning against this temptation; Barnabas had to have known about Pell’s condition.  There was no way the leader of the day dragon enclave hadn’t.

The song was louder, and stepping away from the saddlebags, away from where the orb laid nestled amongst his spare clothes, felt wrong.

Elian couldn’t even say he liked Pell.  He knew Kira didn’t.  Until now, and the way she clung to his hand, he’d have said Nolita disliked Pell, too.  Shadow’s injuries were severe, too; if Pell died she would likely follow, rather than turn rogue.  She’d refused Aurora’s offer of healing on those grounds.

Still, despite everything about Pell that made him generally abrasive, the older boy had done what he needed to.  He’d turned his back on his own enclave, was fighting against them for the good of the world.  Elian had seen him and Shadow near-broken by the lure of the dark orb.

He’d also seen Pell’s distrust of the Oracle, and deep inside his own chest he was doubting, too.

The orb sang louder, more insistent, and Elian realised he was being forced to choose.  Turn his back on Pell, let Pell die to guarantee that the Oracle would revive?  Or save Pell, and risk the Oracle?

It should’ve been obvious.

What do you think? he asked Aurora, but all she gave him was a feeling of uncertainty and he realised with a sinking feeling that she was conflicted, too.

They were supposed to save the Oracle.  That was their quest.  If the Oracle died, the world would fall into anarchy led by the night dragons, and no-one would be safe.  One person, one night dragon rider, was not worth risking it all for.  He couldn’t be.  Yet...

Elian spun on his heel and the dawn orb seemed to materialise in his hands.

Pell was annoying, but Elian couldn’t leave him to die.

Now, it appeared he was showing his true colours for all to see.  A full frontal approach against the force of the night dragon enclave, outnumbered and with dragons half the size and far less suited to aggressive combat.  The only true weapon the day dragons had in their arsenal was their destructive flame, and Segun was well aware that Firestorm, the day dragon involved in the ridiculous quest to maintain the status quo of oppression by the Oracle, had been getting more creative, and more vicious, with his flames.

Widewing would not suffer a day dragon’s mouth to get close enough to her to threaten her wings, and every night dragon who fell, regardless of their survival, to a burnt wing membrane, would be another death knell in the reputation of the day dragon enclave from that day onwards.

There was nothing brave, or honourable, about crippling another dragon without cause.  The day dragons were the aggressors in this case; Segun had issued no challenge nor invitation to them.  His enclave had come out in force to act as a barricade against the four dragons and their riders who would condemn them to another millennia or so of the Oracle’s iron fist and tight control over dragonkind.  True, they would have used aggression if needed, but Segun was confident that the four younglings would not have the confidence to try, when faced with such a barricade.

Shadow had been unmistakeable amongst the blue of the day dragons, and Segun could only scoff at Pell’s cowardice, and his betrayal of his own enclave.  Not only had he forced the issue with the night orb, events regretfully falling his way so that despite Knifetail’s sacrifice, and the subsequent loss of her rider – both loyal supporters that Segun missed – Pell had walked away triumphantly with the orb, but now he had fully thrown in his lot with the enclave that would happily see him and his dragon dead, if the opportunity arose.

Foolish boy.

Still, Segun had offered him chance after chance, and Pell had spurned him at every opportunity.  There were no more chances to be had, and while the death of another night dragon pained him, there could be no other fate for the boy.  Shadow was younger than Widewing, and not yet as strong, but Segun did not need to hear his dragon’s whispers in his mind to know that as the bonded pair matured, both would grow stronger.

It was what had happened to him and Widewing, after all.

Not that Segun intended on doing the work himself, of course.  While it could be argued that it was his duty, as the leader of the enclave, to deal with rogue troublemakers before they could become a true problem, killing another night dragon and her rider would paint him in a poor light.  It would be much, much better for one of the lower-ranking members of his circle to do the deed – someone expendable, if it came down to it.  Murvan would do, after falling so easily for the dusk dragonrider’s tricks.

After centuries together, he didn’t need to say anything for Widewing to recognise what he wanted, and he heard her pass on the instruction to the younger dragon.  She phrased it as an honour, of course, an opportunity to make up for his earlier error when it came to Pell’s escape from imprisonment, and in no time at all the agreement filtered back through to him.

They are honoured to be chosen for the task, she passed back to him, as Segun had known they would be.  Murvan and his dragon were, admittedly, not the brightest members of the enclave, but they were eager to please and good at following orders.  Segun would not need to concern himself with Pell and Shadow any longer.

True, Shadow was the stronger dragon, but she would not be fighting to kill, and that would be her downfall.

His own attention was better spent on Barnabas and Wiseheart, perhaps older than he and Widewing but far weaker in combat.  Not that Segun had any intention of being the one to directly engage with them, either.  He had many loyal followers who would delight at the opportunity to dispose of the infuriating day dragon duo once and for all, without dirtying his own hands or claws.

For now, though, he was content to let the day dragons make the first move.  Let them be the aggressors; it would make their defeat all the sweeter.

The old man, bright-eyed but with hair white as snow, that had first greeted them, approached as he helped Pell to his feet, Nolita doing her best to help on his other side – Jack had heard about her before, but he’d never met the day dragon rider.  So far, she didn’t fit the stories, either.  Pell stumbled over the hems of his trousers, head shooting around to stare at his dragon with wide eyes – ah yes, their mental communication.  If Pell had anything to say about his new physical age, it didn’t get a chance to leave his lips before Barnabas spoke.

“I see you followed your heart,” he said to Elian, and Jack remembered his words about the dawn orb being limited.  It wasn’t difficult to tell that the old day dragon rider disagreed with Elian’s decision, but to his credit, he didn’t scold him for it.  That would’ve been callous, Jack thought, in front of the boy whose life had been saved.  “We are running out of time,” he said, instead.  “Segun and his followers have already barricaded the entrance to the Oracle’s cave, and without a strategy, Elian and Aurora and Kira and Longfang will not be able to get through.  Already, we are outnumbered two to one.”

Night dragons, Jack had discovered a little bit at his first meeting with Shadow, and was now rediscovering in much greater depth, were very difficult to see at night.  Shadow herself was so close to him, and illuminated by enough campfires, that she was easy to see.  The ones blockading the cave system, on the other hand, Jack could scarcely make out.

Aerial tactics was something Jack could say he was good at, though.  If nothing else, the War had taught him how to make the most of what he had in the air.

“I think I can help you, there,” he said, all eyes landing on him – even the dragons’, which was still disconcerting when their eyes were each at least the size of his head.  “I know a few tricks about fighter plane combat, which I imagine the dragons could adapt?”

Elian and Nolita looked hopeful, he thought.  Kira and Pell both wore matching dubious looks, which made Jack wonder if they clashed so much because they were too similar.  Barnabas regarded him consideringly.

“The main aim is to cause a distraction,” the older man said slowly.  “We are not equipped to fight the night dragon enclave in a full combat.”  If all night dragons were as large as Shadow, who easily dwarfed the other dragons in her vicinity, then Jack could believe that.

“In that case,” he said, thinking back to some of his own missions in the War, and specifically the infuriating Red Baron, “we need to cut the head off the snake.  Segun, was it?  Preventing their leader from leading them should cause some confusion.”

“How do you prepose we do that?” Barnabas asked, in a way that reminded Jack of his own commanders trying to prise out weaknesses from his strategies to be eliminated.  “Segun does not lead from the front, and his dragon, Widewing, is particularly formidable.  None of us could match her alone, and a group would be difficult to get close.”

Of course the leader had the scariest dragon.  Jack wasn’t even surprised.

Pell scoffed, and Jack found everyone’s attention drawn to him, instead.  “None of you stand a chance against Segun and Widewing,” he said, then gestured at himself and Shadow.  “We could.  Shadow is almost as big, and we could get into their ranks unnoticed.”

That made sense, Jack realised, but he also realised he hated the idea.  The last time he’d seen Pell and Shadow, the boy had been almost catatonic with shell-shock after the dark orb had used him – repeatedly – to commit mass slaughter beyond the wildest dreams of any of Jack’s own superiors.  Sending him back into a battle, especially against someone whose reputation sounded particularly ugly, with no backup, didn’t sit right with him at all.

“Are you sure you can manage it?” Elian asked, sounding worried.  “I know Shadow’s one of the strongest dragons out there, but Widewing’s one of the few that’s stronger.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Pell snapped back.  Jack wondered if the other riders could hear the signs of fear in his voice or if they were too young – or too blinded by prejudice – to see it.  “Segun and Widewing need to be out of the way.  No-one else here stands a chance.  It’s us, or no-one.”

Unfortunately, he was right.  No matter how much Jack hated it, he also couldn’t see a different solution.  It had a high chance of breaking Pell and Shadow entirely, but the price of peace was never kind.  War had taught Jack that.

What happened? Pell asked her, not ceasing his attempts to sit up.  To his slight surprise, the otherworlder – Jack – let him, his hands shifting until one was at Pell’s back, helping to support him.

You were badly injured in the attack, Shadow told him, a tightness in her voice.  You were beyond Firestorm’s ability to heal, although he and Nolita tried their best.

As she spoke, Pell slowly turned his head, looking away from Jack to survey the rest of his surroundings.  All four dragons surrounded him, Longfang unmistakeable with his single eye, and Shadow always a looming yet safe presence.  Aurora stood pressed against her, and Pell could feel wounds gradually knitting shut.  Firestorm stood on her other side.

Of his fellow riders, Nolita was the easiest to find because she knelt beside him, and Pell realised she was holding his hand.  Strange.  Kira stood by Longfang, arms crossed and looking distinctly displeased about something; not an unusual expression when it came to him.

The young, blond boy packing away something bundled in cloth into Aurora’s saddlebag with some difficulty gave him pause, because Elian was twice the boy’s age, and yet he didn’t need Shadow’s whispered confirmation to recognise they were the same person.

The dawn orb offers healing, Shadow told him.  Elian elected to use it to save your life.

“Oh,” he breathed, and Nolita’s hand tightened around his.  Why does he look so... young?

All orbs take something to use, his dragon said simply.  The dawn orb is no exception.  Elian took most of the consequences himself.

Most?

Two season rotations did not give Pell enough insight to interpret the emotions that filtered into his mind.  There is a reason that, despite being fully healed, they are insisting on caution, she said simply, yet cryptically.  What she had left unsaid, Pell couldn’t tell.

“Are you with us, Pell?” Jack asked, dragging his attention back to the humans surrounding him.  Pell barely remembered being introduced to the man, but clearly Jack remembered it better.

“Getting there,” he grunted, trying to push himself upright a little more.  Any eyes that hadn’t been on him already seemed to immediately lock onto him.  He paid the most attention to Elian, who seemed to have regressed from fourteen to seven since they’d last seen each other, however long ago that had been.

A week, Shadow supplied softly.  Pell disliked that he could only account for a single day.

Jack and Nolita helped him sit up properly, and Pell tried and failed to reconcile the nervous and standoffish younger girl with the version of Nolita that gripped him as though she couldn’t let go.

Another look at their surroundings told Pell that they weren’t alone; beyond Firestorm was a sea of similarly blue dragons.  Behind them, the distinctive skyline of the mountain range that housed the Oracle.  How that had happened while he was apparently unconscious for almost a week, Pell could hardly begin to imagine.

Shadow didn’t immediately fill him in on the gaps, but he got the impression that she would do when the time was right.  Hopefully that would be sooner rather than later, because Pell didn’t like the look on Kira’s face.

He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the look on Elian’s face, either, as the younger boy – now much younger, apparently – left Aurora’s side and headed towards him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked in an unbroken voice that only barely resembled the voice Pell had come to expect from him.  It was a question that felt like it needed thought, especially with Shadow’s cryptic words, so Pell sat and focused on his body for a moment.

Something felt a little off.  Nothing drastic, but enough to be noticed.  Pell knew better than to admit any weakness, though.  “Fine,” he said, and dipped his head towards the other boy in the best acknowledgement he could manage whilst sat down.  “I believe I have you to thank for that.”

Elian’s mouth twisted into something awkward.  “I suppose,” he said.

“Now we just have to wait and see what it cost us,” Kira interjected sharply.  “Barnabas said the orb’s healing was limited.”

Pell couldn’t place the name.  Barnabas?

The leader of the day dragon enclave, Shadow informed him, and her voice was chilly.  He is considered wise even by the standards of dragons.  His counsel was that the orb should not be used for anyone save the Oracle.

It didn’t take Pell long to read between those lines.  He told Elian not to heal me?

That was the... implication, Shadow said sourly.  He feared it would prevent the orb from being able to save the Oracle.

Pell froze.  Will it?

That, only time will tell.

The problem with villages was the people.  Even as he dismounted from Shadow at the edge of the village, he could see what seemed to be most of the population cautiously approaching them, staring at them.  The other three dragons, he knew, were being eyed in awe.

Shadow never got anything better than wariness, and Pell was so tired of having to fend off suspicion every time he spoke with other people.  Not just villagers, either; he was well aware that even other dragon riders tended not to welcome the presence of a night dragon.

It was a little easier in his current group, mostly because he didn’t have to do the talking.  He could, was used to digging into his well of manners and diplomacy to barter for supplies, or possibly a bed for the night, but it was exhausting to be faced with so much constant hostility.

Before their current quest, Pell had spent most nights wilding it with Shadow, rather than trying to find a roof over his head.  This was, in fact, one of the first times he’d knowingly and willingly approached a village for shelter since joining the quest, and a childish part of him hoped that this village would look at his companions, a display of all four dragon breeds, and for once not follow the same rhetoric about the evilness of night dragons and their riders.

Elian didn’t seem happy about being the designated spokesperson, and Pell was a little offended he hadn’t even looked his way to see if he’d be willing to do it – not that he really was, but it was the thought that counted.  The girls were obviously a lost cause, with Kira’s simmering fury about Longfang’s mutilation and embarrassment at her dragon’s bad landing, and Nolita’s continued inability to function like a regular person in the presence of dragons, but Pell failed to see why the other boy had discounted him immediately, too.

It turned out to be a good thing, as much as it rankled.  Elian was good at being sweet, still looked young enough to be considered adorable by adults, and easily bartered a few dragon-aided tasks in exchange for food to refill their saddlebags and some beds for the riders to sleep in.  While the dawn dragon rider was around, everything went smoothly.

Pell quickly found the same wariness and distrust following him when he split from Elian and the girls to explore the village.  The villagers weren’t rude to him – they often weren’t, too afraid of Shadow and the retribution they imagined she would rain down upon them – but they were abrupt in a way they certainly weren’t with Elian.

Some flinched away from him entirely.

He grit his teeth and kept going, losing his inclination for exploration and circling back around to Shadow instead.

Kira was still with Longfang, one hand resting close to the empty eye socket, and Pell slipped past her without drawing her attention; he didn’t need a row with the fiery girl right then, not with an audience of strangers that already expected the worst from him.  Nolita, unsurprisingly, had abandoned the dragons entirely and could just about be seen in the heart of the village, talking with some of the older women as she selected food.  He couldn’t see Elian.

Not helping grated at him.  He didn’t like sitting back and not participating, especially as he knew his fellow riders would see it as something else, a superiority complex perhaps.  Pell liked action and had never enjoyed having things handed to him for free.  It felt much better to work towards things, to know that he’d earned what he had, fair and square.

One of the women talking to Nolita gestured in his direction.  She could have been talking about Kira, but Pell suspected it was him and Shadow.  He was too far away to hear if Nolita responded, and what she said if she did.

It probably wouldn’t have been anything flattering.  It wasn’t like even this group of riders did anything more than tolerate him, anyway.