Chapter 1 - Part 1
Flying through the air was all the more exhilarating when you could do it with nothing but magic. I recall having thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of the wind around me during the first year I messed around with flight. Unfortunately, I grew accustomed to it, and it became nothing more than a normal experience for me.
I was thankful that even after a few years, I hadn’t grown tired of a different form of flight – riding Hargen. I was certain to most it would’ve sounded strange, but he was the first to offer. Often, the two of us would fly around the local area on hunts. After some time, we flew even farther, scouting out some of the local populaces nearby.
We made sure to stay away from towns and cities, not that any were close by. There were a few hamlets, and what looked like villages nearby though. I vaguely remembered reading a medieval history textbook that described how most small-populated areas would treat outsiders that weren’t traders, nobles, or religious officials with any kindness. It probably was in full effect for a hermit and his dragon.
I couldn’t help but chuckle aloud as we flew outside the view of one such nearby village.
“See something funny up here?” Hargen asked, craning his neck some to glance at me.
I shook my head and muttered a ‘no’ in response. My mind went adrift as I recalled how long the two of us had been by each other’s side.
Five entire years, huh? I thought.
During that entire time, I didn’t get any letters from Jayde, and had worried that she might’ve perished somewhere.
She’s much sturdier than I gave her credit for, I reminisced.
I felt doubly reassured when the idle thought that I was still alive surfaced. I was soul bonded with Aurias, so that meant if he was so alive, so would I, and that meant that Jayde was also probably still alive.
Five years was a long time from an outside perspective. Had anyone asked me, I would’ve certainly agreed that the first two dragged on. However, after Hargen hatched, time felt like it started to fly by.
None of our conversations never had a dull moment. Due to dragons having the nature of remembering all their past ancestors’ memories with crystal clarity as they grow up, it meant endless topics.
One such thing we talked about was his personality. The two of us were sitting atop the crest of the cave as the sun was setting, creating a cascade of brilliant orange hues across the partially cloudy sky.
He was laying like cat or dog, with his head resting on his legs. Originally, we were discussing the simplicity of human mortality, and how the lives of all other creatures disappears in a flash when comparing it to an ever-aging creature such as himself.
“What do you think of a talkative dragon?” he asked, staring into the distance.
“Good question,” I pondered.
A talking dragon was pretty interesting, sure. A dragon even existing was even more interesting. Neither of those were his question though.
“I think it’s very quirky and unique. I’ve not met another dragon as talkative as yourself,” I spoke honestly.
If he had eyebrows to raise, I think he would have done just that.
“How many other dragons have you met?” he asked inquisitively.
“Oh, you know, at least a handful. You’re all so curious once you get past the whole ‘I’ll melt you with my breath!’” I mocked.
“Just my mother and I, then,” he concluded.
Indeed, that was the case.
“Truth be told, dragons never existed where I was from,” I spoke, gazing at the orange-purple horizon.
I heard him lift his head, probably to look at me. I glanced in his direction just to be sure. His head was tilted in curiosity. It was as though he was waiting for me to continue.
“In my old life, things like this were fiction – a fantasy – and just thinking about it sometimes caused you trouble. The only intelligent race that could advance in technology were humans, and that was all we had,” I continued.
“What of the elves and dwarves?” he inquired.
“Elves didn’t exist. There were technically dwarves in my old life, but we called them midgets,” I chuckled.
He may have raised an eyebrow in an attempt to mimic me as the muscle above his eye rose slightly.
“Humans that were shorter than a certain height. They were called dwarves by scientists, but, no one called them that. I never knew any, personally,” I pursed my lips together in thought.
“I cannot imagine a time where there were not so many races existing at once,” Hargen contemplated with interest.
“A lot of us wished they existed, but that would’ve probably caused other problems … Magic didn’t exist, either. There was this guy from my old life that said this one famous phrase, ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’. I don’t remember his name, but it’s a really good analogy for my life before,” I sighed.
“Do you miss it?”
“I mean, I guess? Everything would be familiar and the unknowns would be far more known. All the time I’ve spent here has definitely been for the better, and I think that I wouldn’t go back if I had the chance,” there was a tinge of melancholy in my voice.
There was a drawn-out silence after. A natural silence. I could feel that Hargen was absorbing the information. Probably adding that to his already vast amount of knowledge that future dragons would know.
The sun had mostly disappeared beyond the horizon. The top-most portion of it still lit the tops of the sky, but the other stars could be seen. Most of the land below was darkened and almost black in the setting night. The torchlight of hamlets and a couple towns could be seen from atop the hill.
The mosquitos had come out in earnest as though the setting sun were a signal. They were at least three times larger than any I’d ever seen before, nearly as large as the palm of my hand with their legs.
I conjured a water barrier around me, but that only stemmed to make it worse. I was protected from them biting me all over, but the water only served to attract them to lay eggs, and that was certainly not something I was fond of.
“Seems painful,” Hargen commented.
“Whatever could you mean?” I asked, heavy with sarcasm as I slapped several of the bugs away from my barrier.
“I know a spell that repels bugs. It looks like you could use the assistance,” he responded.
I stopped to glare at him for a moment.
“You’re only just now telling me of this?” I asked in exasperation.
The strangest guttural sounding laugh erupted from his maw. My plight must have been the most amusing thing in the world.
“It did not seem you cared,” he responded.
“I do. I care very much. I would be much happier if I never had to even hear one of these little things in my life again,” I spoke, swatting furiously at another wave of mosquitoes.
Hargen spoke an incantation in a language unbeknownst to me which created a faint, luminescent aura around me. The mosquitos touching the water barrier immediately died, and the rest quickly flew away. He looked to me expectantly, at least, I thought that’s what it was.
