Dragon Scale

In the small village of Aspen, the buzzing of everyday life has changed pace; becoming that of a gentle hum. Anticipation clings to the air as the villagers wait to say goodbye to one of their own. Dion, a member of the village since birth, can be found packing the few belongings he can carry.

A mix of glee, nervousness, and restlessness stirs inside him. Today, on his nineteenth birthday, he begins his journey to Hyacinth. There, he will find his way to Dragon Scale and join their ranks as an adventurer.

Dion has wanted to be a guild member ever since he was a bairn. Now that he’s grown, there’s no better time. The journey itself will be one of distance; worth about three weeks on foot. Never has he embarked on such a trip on his own accord, without a companion by his side.

Packing his personal belongings, he thinks about it all. For so long, Dragon Scale has been all I’ve dreamt of. What if it’s not everything it’s made out to be?... His hands pause over his pack. What if I won’t be good enough?

Tap, tap, tap. Outside his door stands his mother, Layla. Her fine chestnut brown hair flows over her face, her eyes shining behind the locks. Seeing her, a twinge of guilt mixes in with his emotions. He opens his arms, and she embraces him with warmth and tenderness. She holds onto him close, almost as if she’s afraid he’ll vanish forever if he slips away.

Her fingers reach for his head, stroking his coiled black hair. She’s done this millions of times, but, this time, Dion focuses on the feeling. Not knowing when he’ll see his mother again, he wants to savor this moment of closure.

When she finally speaks her soft voice catches on the words. “Your father would be so proud of the person you’ve become. I just wish he could be here to see you now.” He leans back to look at her.

Her hazel eyes, swollen and red from crying, reflect the softness of a mother staring at her baby. Visible dark circles under her eyes reveal a sleepless night, most likely worrying for his sake. Dion nods in sincerity and kisses his mother on the forehead. Her eyes and nose run before she turns away and uses her sleeve as a tissue. She’s a sensitive soul, which makes it all the more difficult for Dion to see her like this.

“I have something for you,” she says as she reaches into her pants pocket. In her hands, she pulls out a gold shell pendant on a leather cord. The shell glimmers in the rays from the window, showcasing pearly pink and gold. Dion turns around and Layla clips the necklace into place around his neck. “If you ever feel homesick… You can find a piece of home in the locket.”

Dion begins to cry. His tears, reflecting the light it catches, roll down his face. She has given him love and support throughout his life and leaving her behind feels like a punch to the gut.

She slowly reaches towards his face. Her fingers brushing against his cheeks as she cups his face in her hands. She wipes away his tears with her thumb, admiring his features and how much he’s grown.

“Just promise me you will think about yourself and stay alive.” She looks him dead in the eyes, “Promise me.” He takes her hands, and he crosses his heart before letting go. He grabs his bag and smiles at his mother as brightly as he can.

Water builds up behind her eyes, “That’s my boy.” She walks him out of the house. Giving one last glance at her, he tries to take in the image of his mother. Seeing her on the verge of tearing up though, he waves to her and leaves.

The whole village has gathered together at the road’s entrance, some already crying, and some holding farewell gifts. He reaches the group and starts writing in his notebook to show everyone. “I’ll miss all of you.”

“We’ll miss you too, Dion. Remember to take care of yourself. No one else is going to remind you,” Chief Fiton says. The old man wobbles over to Dion with his cane and hands Dion a small sack. “Wait till you get to Hyacinth to open it.”

Chief Fiton wobbles his way away slowly as the others follow to say their goodbyes to him. Most of the farewells are very emotional. The village collectively gives him a small sack of fruit and dried meats along with a dagger as gifts before he departs. The fact that his entire village has gathered to wish him on his way moves at his heart.

Conell is the last to give his farewells. His old swordsman mentor scans his protégé up and down just as Dion does the same to him. Conell has aged like a fine wine and looks just as courageous and handsome since the day he arrived in the village.

His dark hair and beard are dotted with streaks of silver that adds to his charm. Dion on the other hand has changed from a small, frail child to a lengthy, sturdy young man. Once wide, fearful eyes now ablaze with determination and curiosity.

“If you’re going to be an adventurer you need a worthy sword,” and he hands his holster along with his to him. Dion looks at it and Conell with eyes of disbelief.

“That’s your sword. You fought and went on so many adventures with it. I’ll get a sword that I can call my own. I’ll prove all that you taught me was worth it.” After Conell reads it all, Dion slips his notebook and pencil into his inner jacket pocket.

“I’m retired. But, if that’s how you feel... Then you can give it back when you have your own sword. Till then, use this. It gives you an excuse to come back and visit us. Wouldn’t you say?” Dion smiles at his mentor as he carefully takes the sword from him.

The weight of the holster and sword feel out of place on his hip. The weight of the sword feels different; unlike any sword he held before. Maybe it feels different because of the trust his mentor is giving with the sword.

Conell pats him on the back, “You’ll be okay, kiddo,” he lifts up a rolled-up piece of paper. “For the Guildmaster, make sure to give it to her.” Dion takes the paper from Conell and waves goodbye as he starts to head down the path.

The noises fade as the distance grows: laugher, cries, chatter; all being left behind at home. Glancing back a few times, he watches the village shrink smaller and smaller.

I miss them already. His heart aches at the thought of leaving his old life behind, but a spark of excitement ignites within too. With his final look, it’s swallowed entirely by the trees and their shadows.