SINGED
Chapter 9

She sobbed, her arms wrapped around my neck in a desperate embrace. I held her, trying to absorb all that she had said. I envied her relationship with her sister, pitied her for her lose. To be so close to her only to have her snatched away.

My siblings and I had not been close. Before we hatched, I thought we had supported each other, but dragons do not remain loyal. We are too competitive, too divisive, or so they say. All the minds, all the rumors.

Miranda saw more in me. Strange that I did not. I yearned to see what she saw. Then it hit me. A stupid smile crept onto my lips which I hid in her hair. I could not see truth in myself, but I saw it in her. That was enough. That was more than enough. It wasn’t about me anymore.

I yearned to return her to her sister, and to punish the vile Storm Hag for hurting her. What’s more, I wanted to be human too, not just pretend, but to accept my human nature, embrace it and truly make it my own. Biologically I could never just be human. I was more than human. The emotional and spiritual parts of a human would be the challenge for me. It was a challenge worthy of a dragon, a true challenge, and with Miranda I would succeed. I knew I would.

“Have hope,” I said. “If your sister still lives, we will replace her. We will remove the curse. You will be free again, I swear it.”

I felt her nod against my shoulder. Her tears wet the salt stained sleeve of my tattered tunic. I had not noticed how stiff and unyielding its fabric had become, encrusted with salty brine and dried by the relentless sun. I felt its rigidity melt away beneath the warm caress of her tears, becoming flexible and pliant.

“I do not think she lives,” she said softly. “I feel her locket now finally, but it has changed. It feels like a stranger to me.”

She parted her collar to reveal her own necklace nestled against her throat, gleaming as if it still caught the last vestiges of the sunset, though the sun had sunk beneath the sea long ago, the sky fading to shades of deep lavender and darkest blue.

“I think someone else has claimed it. Yet it calls to me,” she said, looking up at me with vast dark eyes, her body trembling. “They search for this one as well.”

I stared back unable to respond at first, captured in her frightened gaze.

“I cannot be certain, but it must be the Hag. When she has searched the bottom of the sea, she will look to the sky in the morning for the hawk. The hawk will be unaware, unable to hide. She will take me. I cannot escape!”

“You have revealed all to me as you promised,” I said. “Now I will do the same so that nothing will remain between us. You once asked me if I was an enchanter. I am not but I have magic of my own.”

I told her what I was, that I was enchanted by her despite it. I confessed that I loved her. As I have mentioned before, dragons are notoriously resistant to magic. A dragon’s resolve is too strong to be coerced for long. Of all spells, charms are most effective if a dragon is unaware because it appears to be our own will but the moment we doubt, test the strength of the charm against our true desires, the charm is dispelled.

My love for Miranda had passed the test. When a dragon knows, he knows. This was real. I felt it more because it was so different from my innate tendencies as a Serpent of Dread and Woe. This feeling was precisely the opposite, starkly defined against my destructive nature as night is to the day, dark is to light. Under that dramatic differential it remained untarnished and true, shining like a lantern in the dark.

I knew I would do anything too protect her, as if she were a golden horde. I would delight only in her and would be drawn back time and again to behold her. She was my treasure, and woe to those that would harm her or take her from me.

“Is it here,” I said, “on this island?”

I remembered the flashing light coming from the shore on the night the water drakes came. I had not detected anyone else near since we came ashore, but I was used to a whole city whispering to me. Perhaps a single mind could be drowned out by the whisper of the waves and the wind or perhaps one with magic could cloak oneself.

Miranda shook her head. “I don’t know but it cannot be far. It is not strong like when Lenoir wields it. Whoever has the medallion is not attuned to me. Yet, it must be near.”

“Can you follow it?” I spoke calmly but I think she caught the feral look in my eyes and she shook her head again, urgently this time.

“No, we should flee!” She kept her voice low, but it trembled with passion. “My sister is no more, I know that now. There is nothing more we can do!”

“We can seek revenge. We can destroy the Storm Hag so that she cannot continue to seek you out or terrorize others.”

I remained calm, but something was building within me, unseen, moving as the water drakes did beneath the surface of the water. She stared at me, shook her head again so that dark tresses veiled her eyes. She brushed them away.

“No, I don’t know. I will morn my sister and cherish her memory. I do not wish more bloodshed.”

“If you were assured safety then I would comply if that is your wish,” I replied, “but you are not safe, the curse is not dissolved. A powerful enemy still hunts you. ”

I paused, watching her. She did not respond.

“No, the threat must be confronted. Do you not agree?” I said.

Her head dropped in defeat, dark locks shivered with her silent sobs. She allowed me to gather her to me until she relaxed.

“We have until morning,” I continued when she was calm again.

She finally nodded, the tears were gone.

“Lead me to the medallion,” I urged.

She drew her necklace over her head, holding the chain in her hand so that it hung down like a pendulum. The glittering teardrop crystal still reflected errant sunbeams from an unseen sun. She looked upon it, turned as she did so. Then she walked towards the darkened forest and I followed.

We walked among the shivering leaves, the palm trees giving way gradually to bamboo groves and mangrove trees with great meshwork of roots. I was less human in the dark with my human eyes blinded. I could only see with dragon sight. Miranda stumbled, and I reached out, taking her hand in mine. Insects sang in the grasses and the trees. Things scuttled in the shadows. A wind blew restlessly through the branches.

We walked in silence. Odd, urgent, precious moments passed, slipping away, never to be seen again. I wished the night would never end. She led us amid the tangles of the forest. The ground was moist and silty beneath our feet, marked by narrow ravines sculpted by torrents from a recent storm.

The teardrop glittered, and we turned, our path leading up hill, out of the trees, onto a lonely steppe with waist high whispering grasses, bowing before the wind, shivering and shimmering.

“It’s close,” she whispered.

The twin moons bathed the grasses in light. There in the center of the field stood a cloaked figure, silent and still. So still I did not initially recognize it. Then a gust of wind caught its robes which rustled faintly.

“Who are you?” I said, my voice alarmingly loud in the silence.

It slowly raised a hand, an ominous greeting.

Miranda and I exchanged nervous glances. This was unexpected. Was this the one that tricked and trapped us, killed our crew? Or was this someone like ourselves that had been lured here to be marooned on this haunted isle? Why had I not sensed the presence of another sentient mind? This one seemed to be able to hide its thoughts from me. Was it human or something else?

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, feeling the breeze like invisible fingers brushing lightly against them. The chattering of insects became the murmur of voices, faint and unintelligible. It reminded me of the multitudes of Lindor but without emotion or meaning, a cacophony empty of thought, mindless and monstrous like the water drakes.

As if my ruminations had summoned it, a deep booming call came, carried on the whispering wind over the hollow cadence of the insect host. It rose like a lonely horn blast from a solidary minstrel, sad and hopeless.

“The other drake,” Miranda murmured.

Her dark eyes never left the shrouded figure who had also paused, turning toward the mournful sound.

“Who are you?” Miranda echoed.

The figure turned back, hesitating, its face veiled in the shadow of its hood. Then it fled.

“Wait!” I called but it was gone, vanishing into the grasses.

“She has the medallion,” Miralda said.

“She,” I paused.

“ How do you know it’s a she?” I asked.

“No, I don’t know.” She pressed her lips together, frowning in frustration. “Everything’s wrong.”

She turned dark eyes upon me full of sadness.

“Come on,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her into the grasses after the figure. I searched like a hunter, like the feral thing that I am, but I could replace no trace. The tracks simply ended. The sorrowful call of the drake sounded again and again we both paused, turning towards the source. Did it mourn? Was the other drake its mate? Sibling? Friend? Angrily I suppressed an absurd regret that welled in my chest for the beast that had devoured our crewmates and sunk our ship.

“I did you a favor if it was a clutch mate,” I thought. “It would have turned on you when you least expect it.”

Miranda was leading again, following her glittering talisman.

“This way,” she whispered.

We turned back towards the beach, through the mangrove trees and the whispering bamboo. The moons were waning but still bright, glittering off the obsidian waves as we emerged onto the sand. There in the moonlight, waist deep in the water, stood the stranger.