…Continued from yesterday
Thanks again to Milosh Jevremovic for permission to use this stunning image, "My Pain"!
Kirondan waited more years, more
endless heartbeats, for Neevo to become a man. He grew to his full height,
taller than his father. His shoulders and arms were broad and strong from years
of labor. Finally, his father struck him, and he struck back. He knocked his
father to the ground and stood over him. Kirondan watched from miles away. He
was always watching.
Neevo walked into the house and
came out with a bag. He walked away without a backward glance. Kirondan felt a
fierce joy flood through his body, stretching his wings wide. The boy was a
man. It was time.
Neevo was impatient. He still lived in human time, by
heartbeats. Kirondan’s mantra was Patience.
Persistence. One by one, they hunted down sorcerors and collected the
gears. They had to trade many things: labor, coin, memories, dragon scales,
human hair.
Neevo chafed with each delay. Kirondan wrapped him under
wing and whispered in his mind. Patience.
Persistence. Until finally, they had the last gear. The last spell.
They flew to their hidden cove, the only place they both
called home. And now the sun was setting. When its fire lit the ocean, the
poorvatch would begin. Are you ready?
Kirondan asked Neevo once more. The boy looked up with no hint of fear, only
trust and love in his bronze eyes. He held out the gears in both hands.
Kirondan inhaled and blew a bolt of fire into his chest.
Neevo arched his back and screamed in agony. Kirondan reared
up and roared at the sinking sun, helpless. Neevo lifted his shaking hands and
dropped the gears into the burning hole. As they fell, clicking together, the
spells flared into life. The gears slid into place in his chest and began to
turn. Tick, tick, tick. Neevo reached trembling fingers into his chest and
pulled out his heart, flickering with Kirondan’s flame. He held it out with a
steadier hand.
Kirondan leaned down and touched the beating heart with his
tongue. So hot, so fragile, so powerful. He swallowed it whole and felt it burn
all the way down his long throat. The heat burst through his body and he shot
flames up into the sky. Agony! The ancient said nothing of this! He looked down
at Neevo, who lay with his eyes closed, the hole in his chest still flickering
flame as the gears settled into place and found their rhythm.
Kirondan flapped his wings, lost his balance, and fell to
the ground beside Neevo with a crash. He pressed his head against Neevo’s
outstretched arm and felt his eyes close as his own body burned inside. Was
this dying? Had the poorvatch killed them both? Kirondan closed his eyes and
felt nothing flame.
Kirondan? Kirondan?
Wake up!
He heard the whisper in his mind and knew he must be
dreaming. The boy was dead. Kirondan had killed him. Kirondan was dead.
“Kirondan! Wake up!” No whisper. A shout. Kirondan opened
one eye. Neevo smiled at him and stroked around his eyes, along his snout.
“Wake up! Do you want to spend forever sleeping?” He teased.
Kirondan rolled over and rose to his feet. He looked down
his body. No flame. He looked at Neevo. His chest was whole and strong.
Kirondan stretched his wings wide. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care. We have forever.”
###
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Dogs in house:
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Houdini
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Time writing:
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~30 minutes
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June word
count:
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15,196
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