Here Be Dragons: Book 1 of the Emergence Series

Hironh was tired, but he could not fall asleep, not truly. Sometimes he was certain he had only blinked, but then he saw that Pryce had changed positions. The few periods of unconsciousness he had experienced were restless and fitful, and he considered waking Pryce several times, if only to talk, but the human had not slept well either – his breathing had only slowed to a deep sleep a few hours ago.

He dozed off at some point, then stirred awake to see the skies lit by twilight. Soon afterwards the sun rose over the land, and with it his apprehension.

He would be flying soon.

Hironh pushed himself up and stretched silently so as to not wake Pryce. The dragon's spines flipped forward as he checked the human's breathing and heart rate, and confirmed that he was still asleep. He didn't need Pryce to go flying, and for a moment he entertained the thought of sneaking off – but only for a moment. Pryce had more than saved his life; he could wait a little while longer.

With a sigh, Hironh slowly sat back down to lay his head alongside the sleeping human, and waited.

Pryce stirred, and Fathom blinked awake. It took the dragon a moment to realize that he had dozed off again, though not for long, judging by the amount of sunlight filtering into the cave.

"Are you awake?" Fathom quietly rumbled.

"Close enough," Pryce mumbled as he sat up from his sleeping bag. "How long were you waiting for me to wake up?"

"Not long."

"Good," Pryce yawned. "Do you want to eat something first, or-"

"No, I will fly better without eating," Fathom said shortly, his anxiety making him come across more rudely than he intended. The embers of hope that fluttered in his hearts were tempting as they were vexing, and despite his best efforts nothing could stop the intense, almost painful desire to relive those old memories of unhindered flight. The deep-seated fear that gnawed away at his hearts was a familiar one – he'd felt it all those years ago as he recovered from his broken wing, and now he was in an uncomfortably similar situation: his wing broken, now healed, and all that was left to do was to fly.

Fathom blinked as he felt something touch his foreleg.

"It's going to be okay," Pryce said reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll be alright, whatever happens."

Fathom's spines flattened involuntarily, belying the skepticism that was his immediate response. He was doubtful that Pryce could understand exactly what he felt, seeing as he was not a dragon, but the human's words of comfort did dredge up an older memory.

"...Yes," Fathom said, almost absently. "The Sun will rise."

Pryce tilted his head. "But the sun's already up, isn't it? Or is that a Draconic expression?"

"Something like that," Fathom rumbled noncommittally. "It means…it does not matter what you think, or what you want. Some things you cannot control, like the sun."

"That…makes sense," Pryce said, wrinkling the skin on his forehead as he did whenever he was thinking about something new. "So, that expression means 'don't worry about things you can't control', right?"

"Yes. There is nothing I can do now that will change the truth," Fathom said, nodding his head in a half-bow. "You reminded me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Pryce nodded back, looking unsure of what else to say. "Humans have similar expressions, like…'a flame is brighter in the dark'."

"...I don't understand," Fathom said, cocking his head. "Does this mean that possessions are more valuable when you have nothing?"

"Not…quite," Pryce said, scratching his head. "Usually it means that bad things make it easier to appreciate good things, and some people think of it as 'you should look for ways to benefit from things that you cannot control'."

"I…think I understand a little, but why is darkness bad? Or why is it thing that you cannot control?" Fathom asked, flattening his spines in confusion.

"It's hard to see in the dark, so it's scary," Pryce shrugged. "But I can see how it might not make sense to you, since dragons can see better than humans, and there are not many things you need to be afraid of in the dark."

"...Interesting," Fathom rumbled, and looked outside to see the sun lighting up the morning sky. "Are you hungry? You can eat first, if you want," he asked, though he was anxious to get going.

"No, I'm not hungry," Pryce said, gesturing towards the exit of the cave. "I'm nervous to see if you can fly too."

Fathom hardly needed any encouragement to go outside, though he did turn his head around as he walked to continue their conversation. "Why are you nervous?"

"I – hopefully – fixed your wing. If you can't fly well then it's…kind of my fault," Pryce shrugged, staying by the cave entrance.

"You are being stupid again," Fathom snorted derisively as he walked on, stopping two body lengths away so that his ascent wouldn't knock Pryce over. "You made it better, so it cannot be your fault."

"Maybe, but that's just how I feel," Pryce smiled. "Anyways – good luck."

Fathom absently nodded as he fanned his wings, warming them up until Pryce had to shield his eyes from the dust that he kicked up.

When he was finally ready, Fathom broke into a sprint, taking a third of a beat to reach his top speed before he planted his hindlegs into the ground and kicked. The powerful muscles of his legs were weaker than they should have been, but it was enough; each stroke of his wings gained him more and more elevation. His flight membranes instinctively slid over his eyes as he climbed, and in a few dozen wingbeats he had gained sufficient altitude to flare out his wings, panning into a slow and sedate glide.

The cool air rushing past his wings was a soothingly familiar feeling, and he took the opportunity to savor this sensation while he climbed up and up into the sky.

It took ten beats, but soon he had gained enough altitude that he could delay things no longer. Fathom folded his left wing partway, letting himself fall into a roll. He spun for several revolutions, then flung his wings out to their fullest extent – his breath caught as his wings snapped taut…and held, arresting his rotation and allowing him to peter out into a glide.

The breath Fathom had been holding came out in an explosive gust as he slowly allowed himself to realize that he had done a perfect, unhampered roll, with only minor aches as a result.

Giddy exuberance rose effervescently from deep within his core, and Fathom dove before pulling up into an aggressive climb, ascending faster than he had in decades despite his still-healing body. His flame glands clenched with emotion as he spiraled up to the apex of his ascent, and Fathom allowed it all to burst forth as he belted out a clarion roar of pure joy that echoed throughout the mountains.

Fathom landed some time later and stumbled as he touched the ground, having evidently overexerted himself in his high spirits

"I'm guessing it went well?" Pryce asked, though he had little doubt of the contrary.

Fathom was too busy panting to respond, but despite that he snatched the human up in his talons with enough swiftness that Pryce had no chance of escape.

"I can fly again! Thank you thank you thank you!" Fathom gasped in a rush as he gratefully pressed his forehead against Pryce's torso, his brassy voice quavering with emotion.

"O-oh, you're welcome," Pryce stammered.

Fathom held him gently despite his exuberance, and the genuine display of joy warmed Pryce's heart despite his uncomfortable embrace. For a moment Pryce hesitated to return the gesture, but he soon overcame his indecision to wrap his arms around the dragon's neck.

"So you can fly better than before, right?" Pryce asked once Fathom carefully set him down.

"Better than before I met you, yes," Fathom answered resolutely. "I still need more healing, and it is different so I will need to learn how to fly again, but soon I will be much better than before," he added excitedly.

"Good," Pryce nodded. "So, do you want to eat now?"

"Yes, I am hungry, let's go eat!" Fathom agreed, and stood up on all fours to walk back towards the ship.

"Don't you want to go hunt something?"

"Yes, but I will hunt tomorrow; my wings are tired, and your food tastes better," Fathom said without an ounce of shame.

"If you say so," Pryce smiled, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. The moment he stood up Fathom walked on ahead with a spring in his step, then turned around to restlessly pace laps around Pryce when the latter inevitably fell behind.

"Here," Pryce said, cracking open a bottle of wine after their breakfast. "How about we celebrate a little?"

Fathom cocked his head. "Humans drink alcohol to celebrate?"

"Yes, very often," Pryce chuckled, and Fathom eagerly accepted the bottle before tipping it into his maw.

"This is very good," Fathom said, and paused before he took another swig. "You are not going to drink?"

"Just a little," Pryce said, filling a small glass for himself. "Here, humans touch cups of alcohol when celebrating."

"What?" Fathom asked blankly.

"It's called a toast, humans touch glasses like this," Pryce said, demonstrating the action with one of the empty bottles.

"Why?" Fathom asked.

"It's what humans do to celebrate, we tap glasses, say 'cheers', then drink," Pryce said, leaving out the fact that this was supposed to be done before any liquid was consumed.

Fathom still seemed confused, but he played along and extended his bottle.

"Cheers?" they both said, the dragon's brassy voice easily overpowering Pryce's own.

Pryce sipped from his glass as Fathom tipped the bottle into his open jaws, and he watched with some amusement as Fathom's tongue hastily darted out to catch the liquid that dribbled down the side of the bottle. His lack of soft lips seemed to make the act of drinking rather difficult, at least when using human tableware. Perhaps dragons would need something more appropriate to drink from, though Pryce wasn't sure what that would look like.

"Oh, why did you spit fire in the sky?" Pryce asked, remembering the question that he had earlier.

"That is a thing that happens when a dragon feels strong emotions," Fathom explained, as he took another swig. "It is uncomfortable if we do not let fire out."

Pryce blinked at this explanation – it sounded like crying, though far more dramatic. "I see."

"Why do you drink so little?" Do you not like alcohol?" Fathom asked, tilting his head in a perplexed manner.

"I don't like it much," Pryce shrugged. "Alcohol makes you feel 'drunk', and I don't like that."

"But why? Humans make alcohol, so humans must like alcohol, so they must like being drunk, right?"

"Yeah, a lot of people do, but I don't," Pryce shrugged. "Alcohol is a weak poison, but it's still a poison."

"Alcohol isn't a poison," Fathom reflexively objected, then looked down at his drink. "...Is it?"

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"Alcohol makes you feel strange because it is doing damage to your body, but it is not much damage, and your body can heal quickly," Pryce explained, though Fathom didn't seem very reassured. "Can alcohol make dragons vomit?"

"No?" Fathom replied, flattening his spines in confusion. "Can it make humans vomit?"

"If a human drinks too much alcohol, yes. I don't know for sure, but human alcohol should be stronger than dragon alcohol, but your bodies are much larger and much harder to poison."

"Oh...there is not enough here to poison me, right?" Fathom asked, wearily eyeing his bottle.

"No, you should be fine," Pryce reassured.

"Hrrm," Fathom rumbled as he hesitantly eyed his nearly empty bottle. For a moment he visibly weighed his options, then shrugged and poured the rest down his gullet.

"Are you sure you want to wear this?" Pryce asked, later that day.

"Why would I not want to wear this?" Fathom asked as he preened over his new accessory.

Pryce had offered to make him a more comfortable harness out of rope, but this option had been stoutly refused in favor of a shiny stainless steel chain looped across his shoulders and around his arms, much like a backpack.

"Well, as long as you're happy with it," Pryce shrugged, and left to retrieve his own 'flight harness'...which was really just a repurposed construction harness designed to aid in repairs on the side of the ship's hull. "By the way, have you ever met the two dragons Anvonh is living with?"

"No, but they are very famous," Fathom replied as he curiously examined Pryce's harness, "They are both old females. One who is a great fighter, and the other is a great artisan. She is one of the best dragons who can melt metals."

"Really? What are their names?" Pryce asked as he shrugged on the harness.

"The fighter's name is Ghorrah-ǂ, and the maker's name is Jooral-ǂ. I do not think Ghorrah-ǂ is very interesting to you, but Jooral broke her wing very badly a long time ago, so she cannot fly at all," Fathom said, his head lowered gravely.

"Oh," Pryce said, wincing in sympathy. It must be terrible for a dragon to be unable to fly, though he had to wonder if the crippling injury was part of the reason why she dedicated so much of herself to becoming an artisan in the first place.

"You should bring some human cups, glasses, and tools," Fathom suggested. "Jooral-ǂ will be very interested to see those. And Anvonh too."

"Good idea," Pryce agreed as he tightened his straps.

"This is very bright and colorful," Fathom noted with interest. "How strong is it?"

"This is made of nylon, so it's very strong. You can try pulling on this if you want," Pryce said, handing him a length of nylon rope. "It's made of the same material."

"I can?" Fathom asked, and glanced dubiously at the relatively thin strand of neon orange rope. The dragon looped the rope around his foreclaws, then gently pulled.

It didn't budge.

Seeing that the rope could take it, he pulled a bit harder.

…It still didn't budge.

Surprised at the strength of the material, Fathom repositioned himself, then pulled with all his might.

The rope strained, but held.

"What is this thing?" Fathom huffed, dropping the rope in defeat.

"Nylon is a type of plastic, which is made from oil in the ground, though the process is a bit complicated," Pryce said, shrugging apologetically. He knew that polymers such as nylon were made by heating and pressurizing crude oil, but he wasn't clear on the specifics, and that level of explanation wouldn't make any sense to Fathom anyway.

"...I don't like losing to this small rope," Fathom muttered.

"This rope can lift something that weighs 1500 kilograms, so I don't think any dragon could pull it apart," Pryce said by way of consolation. "Okay, I think I'm ready."

"What is that thing on your face?" Fathom asked, sounding bewildered and amused in equal parts.

"It's a face shield," Pryce said, adjusting the large transparent plastic flap. "Face shields are supposed to protect faces from dangerous things, but I'm using this one to protect my eyes from the wind."

"Just use your...these," Fathom said, flicking his nictitating membranes back and forth.

"Those are called nictitating membranes, and humans don't have those."

"Strange," Fathom rumbled. "How do you see underwater if you do not have nicti–nictitating membranes?" He asked, stumbling over the rather difficult word.

"We don't. And you can call them 'flight membranes' if you want."

"That is easier to say," Fathom nodded. "What is this face shield made of? It is clear, like human glass, but it looks like it can bend," he said, gently tapping on the face shield with a talon.

"This is also plastic."

"Like nylon? But they look so different!" Fathom said, looking rather surprised,

Pryce shrugged. "All rocks are rocks, but that doesn't mean they all look the same."

"True," Fathom admitted. "Then you are ready to fly, right?" He asked, sitting himself down so that Pryce could climb up onto the base of his neck.

"Wait, wait," Pryce said, using the carabiners to clip himself onto the chain on Fathom's neck. "Don't fly yet, try to shake me off first," he said, bracing himself against Fathom's neck.

"Are you sure?" Fathom asked, glancing back at him in concern.

"I would rather fall here than when we're up in the sky."

"Okay," Fathom said, and proceeded to leap up and down as per his instruction. It hurt a little to be jarred so severely, but the harness held for a successful test.

"Alright, I think we're ready to fly now," Pryce said, almost biting his tongue as Fathom gave one last abortive jump.

"Good. Be ready to hold on."

Fathom broke into a run, jarring his passenger as he built up the speed needed for a proper takeoff. Pryce clenched his teeth as the strides rattled his bones, but it didn't take long for Fathom to leap into the air, his great wings bringing them higher and higher into the sky with each powerful beat.

It was only now that Pryce realized how much motion occurred at the base of the neck; every stroke of Fathom's wings threw him up and down in a nauseating manner as they ascended beat by beat. His ears popped as they rose through the sky and his hands grew numb despite his thick gloves, though it was difficult to tell if that was caused by the chilling air or his own iron grip.

Soon Fathom leveled off into a straight glide, and Pryce gradually relaxed as it became clear that he was in no danger of being thrown off.

"Are you okay?"

Positioned as Pryce was, Fathom's deep voice reverberated through his entire body. It was an odd sensation to feel the words as much as he heard them.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Pryce said, but it came out quieter than he had intended, especially behind the face shield and the howling winds. "I'm okay!" he called out, louder this time.

"I heard you speak the first time," Fathom replied, and angled his wings to better catch an updraft.

Now that he wasn't being jostled around Pryce finally had the opportunity to take in the view. Sitting at the base of the neck allowed Pryce to turn and look at whatever he pleased, and the vibrant sunset made for a truly awe-inspiring sight. From this height, Pryce could see how the river wound its way further inland, and how the mountains ran along the length of the continent like a great spine.

The winds whipped through his hair and around his face shield as Fathom soared through the skies, and Pryce would have felt like he was on the top of the world if not for the towering mountain range further inland, whose peaks dwarfed their present altitude of perhaps a kilometer or so above sea level.

"Is this working?" Fathom asked, sounding a little bemused by Pryce's silence.

Pryce rubbed his aching face, realizing he was grinning widely.

"Oh yeah, this is working."

[JOURNAL ENTRY]

Day 78,

The test flight went great today, though I'll probably end up saddle-sore after tomorrow's 3-4 hour long flight. The ascent was unpleasant, but gliding was more sedate than I expected.

It truly was an amazing experience.
I imagine a dragon could charge a considerable fee for such a ride back home, though that's a bit of a waste of their talents. I wonder which fields they would be best suited for…

"I want to show you something. Follow me," Fathom said, soon after Pryce finished his journal entry for the day.

"Oh? What is it?"

"It is…hard to explain," Fathom said evasively. "It is easier to just show you. Bring your lantern."

"Okay," Pryce replied, and did as he was asked.

Fathom remained silent as the two of them scaled the mountain, and only when they stepped inside his home did he speak.

"I am going to show you a secret," Fathom said as they made their way into one of the deeper areas of his home. It was so dark now that the lantern was the only reason why Pryce could see anything at all. "Will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Okay, I promise," Pryce said, though he wasn't sure what this secret was. They had just entered a chamber filled with shelves on the walls, which stored various treasures. "Is this room the secret?"

"Nothing is hidden, how is it a secret?" Fathom chuffed dismissively. "This is the secret." He walked up to a wall and removed an entire shelf, revealing a passageway hidden behind it.

Pryce followed the dragon as he stepped through the secret passageway, and he was shocked into silence.

The surrounding cave wall was covered, covered with countless tiny specks of light. It took Pryce several moments to realize what he was looking at – innumerable tiny crystals had been embedded into the blackened walls, giving it a striking resemblance to a starry night sky. "Did you make this?" Pryce asked, awestruck by the stunning sight.

"Most of it," Fathom said, nodding in a self-satisfied manner. "It took a very long time to make."

"It is very beautiful," Pryce said, and knelt to more closely examine the crystals. The myriad flecks of light seemed to glimmer in all sorts of colors; most were probably some sort of glass, though he wouldn't have been surprised if a not-insignificant number were gemstones. A glance along the walls of the cave revealed more treasures placed upon shelves or embedded into the walls, covering the cavern in a sort of mosaic.

"This is a 'star sky'," Fathom explained. "These things are the most important things I have, and they…tell my story. I think that is the best way to explain it."

"I see," Pryce said. It sounded a bit like scrapbooking, albeit without pictures. "Have you shown this to anyone else?"

"I do not have anyone else to show this to," Fathom shrugged. He didn't sound very bothered by this, though his head did tilt away in a self-conscious manner. "You are my friend now, so I wanted to show you this, and tell you about my life."

"Oh…thank you," Pryce replied, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

"Do not thank me. I have not started yet," Fathom snorted, gesturing to a shelf on the left of the cave entrance, upon which sat a fragment of blue eggshell far larger than any Pryce had ever seen before.

"Is that…your eggshell?" Pryce asked, approaching but not touching the fragile keepsake. The egg seemed to have been originally pill-shaped, though not enough remained for him to discern much else.

"Yes. My father and mother have some of the other pieces. I took this piece when I became an adult, and left their home to live alone. I was nine years old."

"Is that…normal?"

"Yes? Young dragons leave parents when they are strong enough. How else can they become adults?"

"I guess that makes sense," Pryce shrugged. "Humans are more complicated…but I'll explain later."

"Good," Fathom nodded, and turned his attention back to the cavern wall. "I was strong and fast, so I won many fights," he said, staring nostalgically at the glittering trophies of his youth. "I was good at many things. Singing, flying, fighting. I lost some times, but I won many more. Eventually I decided to have an egg, and that is how I met Anvyr-ǂ." Fathom nosed the back of the cave wall as he finished his sentence, bringing Pryce's attention to the opalized ammonite, as well as a piece of blue-yellow eggshell.

"This must be Anvonh's eggshell," Pryce said as he examined the newer fragment. "The color looks different."

"The color of the egg depends on what the mother eats."

"Interesting," Pryce absently replied. "By the way, I have a question; how did you and Anvyr decide to be mates? I know there was a competition, but you must have chosen each other, right?"

"We talked," Fathom simply said. "The process can be complicated, but she did not like the other winners, and that was the first time we met. We talked, and she agreed to be my mate."

"Interesting," Pryce murmured. "Very different from humans."

"How do humans choose mates? It must take a very long time, if you stay with that person for the rest of your life."

"It usually takes a long time, yes. Most spend months or years together before deciding to have children. As for how humans choose mates…that's very, very complicated."

"Hmm, that is very strange," Fathom rumbled. "Do you have any other questions?"

Pryce mulled this over for a moment. "I'd like to know about Anvonh, especially since we're going to see her soon."

"That is a good question," Fathom sighed. "Anvonh…was a very good dragonet. I have not seen her since she left, so I do not know if she has changed, but…when I was wounded and Anvyr-ǂ was sick, we could not hunt. Anvonh…" He paused and looked away, as if ashamed. "Anvonh…helped us hunt."

Pryce stared in surprise. Fathom clearly placed a great deal of pride in parenthood; it must have been shameful in the extreme to be taken care of by his own child. "...How old was she?" Pryce quietly asked.

"Five," Fathom replied, hanging his head wretchedly. "It was very dangerous for her, but…I could not stop her."

"She sounds like a good child," Pryce said, trying his best to cheer Fathom up.

"Yes…even when she was a hatchling Anvonh always wanted to do more, and this part of her grew with her," Fathom said in a long, drawn-out sigh. "She changed after her mother died. She hated her weakness, even if it was not her fault. We had an argument before she left, and that was the last time we talked."

"But that must have been…a long time ago," Pryce said, surprised by this information.

Fathom nodded sadly. "She was seven when she left."

"But…you know where she lives, so why didn't you go find her?"

"Anvonh was young, but a dragon that leaves their parents is treated like an adult, and a young adult must be able to live without help from others," Fathom said, as if this were common knowledge. "Besides, she does not need me anymore."

"Are you sure?" Pryce asked, raising an eyebrow. "What if she wanted to talk to you?"

"I don't think that is true," Fathom said, snorting dismissively. "If she wanted to talk to me then she would have found me."

"...I think it would be very easy for her to think the same thing," Pryce tactfully pointed out.

Fathom only grunted in response, and Pryce decided not to push the subject. Looking at the cavern wall he noticed that the most recent portion had his own 'gifts' placed on shelves; several bottles of alcohol and a few pictures were propped up for display, evidently taking places of honor.

"Thank you for showing me this. I'm glad that you trust me enough to tell me all this."

"You're welcome," Fathom said, though the words came about rather stiltedly. He really didn't like that phrase, Pryce noted with some amusement.

"Since you told me your story, then I guess I should share mine as well. Sit down, this is going to take a while."