Firestorm

     Yahaira dipped lower to avoid a thick bank of cloud, skimming close to the tops of waxy emerald trees. A troop of little monkeys screeched and scattered as her faint shadow passed over them. A deep rumbling overhead signalled that the iron grey clouds were about to release their fury. Yahaira beat her scarlet wings harder through the hot, water-heavy air, wondering whether she should continue dodging treetops or try to fly up through the cloud. These thunderheads could be miles thick. She decided against the risky venture.

      As she feared, water began to fall in a heavy curtain, plastering her feathers to her skin, and a wild wind forced her into a near miss with a tree bent with leathery fruits. Other birds were singing with the excitement of the electric storm, but Yahaira clacked her beak in agitation; she hated rain. And no wonder.

 Off to her left, she could hear the ocean, wild with the storm. A palm tree flicked its waving branches at her and she ducked under them, her enormous wingspan barely fitting between it and the neighbouring tree. The wind was pulling her hard. She fought it breathlessly, her shoulders aching, hit with one form of vegetation after another until she burst out over the open ocean and tasted a fine salty spray. Wheeling around, she allowed the wind to blow her back toward the shore and grabbed a slick, black, pitted sea-rock with her talons. Grounded. The wind still buffeted her neck and back feathers, causing her to sway, but she was too high up to be struck by the frenzied waves. 

      If she did not hate water so much, she would have found the view breathtaking. Along the shore, trees cloaked in mist groaned and cracked as they bowed in a dizzying dance. The white streaked ocean reflected the dark purple sky, both lit periodically by streaks of lighting. This was followed by thunder so loud it could be heard over the earthshaking boom, boom of the waves. It sounded so big, so infinitely big.

      If Yahaira could smile, she would. Lightning, she did like. 

     There was another sound, faint in the storm, but it struck her as tiredly, horribly familiar, and wiped the joy from her heart. It was the sound of terror. She straightened and looked around, squinting her jewel blue eyes, trying to see through the mist. She heard it again, a roar of anger and pain, and saw a burst of flame high up on a cliff, far to the south along the coast. She took to the air.

      Flying with as much speed as possible in the storm, she was soon able to pick up the shouts of battle and a thud as some weapon hit its mark. The flame burst again, hissing in the mist and causing a human scream. It was a dragon, she saw now, backed precariously close to the cliff's edge by a crowd of humans armed with spears. The dragon was wounded beneath the wing with two thick spears and could not fly away. He was weakening against the onslaught. The humans gave some united war cry and surged forward again, throwing their spears just as the dragon rose on his hind legs, probably for some offensive move. A spear caught him in the throat just as he reared up. He toppled backward off the cliff just as Yahaira drew close enough to help. 

      She dove sharply, tucking her wings in, and caught him by the tail halfway down the cliff. He was shockingly heavy, even for such a large creature, and she dropped with him. A huge wave slammed her into the rock face, making her lose her grip on the dragon. As the wave rolled back, she scrabbled for any available crevice with beak and talons, trying to keep from falling backwards. She flew up to a ledge just before the next wave hit and struggled to breathe. 

      The dragon was on the rocks below; she could see a thin leathery wing through the foam. She waited for the next wave and dove just as it began to recede. She grasped his long neck through the swirling water and beat her wings as hard as she could, pulling him about a stone's throw before being crushed under by pounding water, pinned painfully against sharp rocks. She beat her wings near-uselessly against the thick liquid as the force lessened. She surfaced just as another wave hurled itself sadistically against her. The water swirled, dark as twilight and dancing with little bubbles. There was no noise under there. It was like being buried. Panic rose. 

      The pressure lessened and she burst from the water, desperately grasping the dragon's body and throwing herself along the churning surface toward a pebble beach, as far as she could from the fang-like rocks. She pulled him up onto land, hop-dragging him as far from the ocean as she could until she stumbled in exhaustion. She sat on the beach for a moment, head hanging low and eyes closed. She felt cold. It was never good for her to be cold. 

      Wearily she opened her eyes, feeling old instead of like the young bird she was, and shook as much of the water from her wings as she could. Looking down, she could see that her breast and leg feathers had darkened from scarlet and gold to deep red and black, a testament to her sorry state. The dragon was much worse. His neck was bent back at an awkward angle from the dragging, and blood from his wounds mixed with the seawater streaming off his sides. One of the spears had been torn out; the other two remained. He breathed very slowly. His eyes were half open, the fiery irises gleaming out from under his lids like an upside-down sunset. 

     "My friend, how else can I help you?" Yahaira asked.

      The dragon's breath huffed out of his nostrils like a bellows. "You speak in the tongue of dragons," he rumbled weakly. His eyes opened a bit wider as he tried to focus on her. "Thank you, but I am going to die." 

     Yahaira stepped around to his other side and helped him move his head to a more comfortable position. She stepped back, gave her feathers a final ruffle so that they stood up all over her body, then smoothed them down again dry. She closed her eyes in concentration. Both she and the dragon needed to be kept warm. Her black feathers gradually turned red. Then a thin thread of gold appeared at the edges of each feather and worked its way inward, followed in the same way by a strip of orange like the line that creeps across burning paper. Waves of heat began to waver on the beach, evaporating the water, as a flame ignited at her chest and quickly spread over her body till it reached the end of her tail feathers and enflamed her eyes into a burning circlet. Showers of sparks drifted down from her wings.

      The dragon made a sound; she could not tell if it was of surprise or a moan. "I have never seen a phoenix in all my long life," he said tiredly. "They say you bring hope."

      "I do." 

"Then," he blinked his drooping eyelids, "there is something I must ask of you."

"Ask anything," she said gently.

 "I have a son," he said, opening his eyes fully for the first time. "He has not long been out of the egg. His mother, like me, was murdered. He is the last of his kind. Care for him, please."

      "Where can I find him?" 

"In the mountain of fire, my city." He sank limply into the beach. "The city of my ancestors. Promise me you will take care of him." 

     "I promise," Yahaira swore solemnly.

     "Thank you." He breathed the words softly, and did not breathe again.

      Yahaira bowed her head sadly. The sun was setting now below the clouds, and the wind and rain had slackened. The light of her her fire cast a dancing circle around her on the pebbles, flickering on the dragon's face. She looked up at the top of the cliff. The horde of humans was gone. 

     She grasped the spear in his neck with her beak and pulled it out, tossing it into the water. She did the same with the other, then sadly stood by his side. "You should have a funeral like those of your ancestors," she sighed. Stretching out her magnificent wingspan, she lit up brightly in blue and white, throwing up a cloud of hot steam and melding the pebbles into glass. When she dropped her wings, all that was left of the dragon was ash, stirred by the wind and wetted by the drizzle. 

      Behind her, the jungle sloped up steadily to a steep-sided mountain, clothed in green and wrapped in a pink cloud shawl. She launched into the air, singing a soft, flutelike song, her heart hurting for the poor orphan waiting at home. She, too, was an orphan, and she had had to tell a child that her mother had died once before. She did not relish the task now. 

      She reached the mountain by the time a wavering yellow moon had risen above the treetops. Around her, night birds called to each other, each in their own language. If she were to roost on a thick branch and listen, she would be able to make out conversation from the song and chatter. She was too young to have learned these all languages on her own, but the communal mind of her predecessors had been conversing with all these species and more for millennia. Some languages came to her easily; others took much time and reflection to translate. 

      She flew up through the thin mist and banked toward the bald head of the mountain. As she flew closer, she saw by the light of the moon that the top of the mountain had caved in. She landed in the crater among jumbled boulders. Up there, the air smelled cool and fresh from the rain. 

     She looked around. The dragon had said that there was a city within the mountain. There must be an entrance large enough for an adult dragon to pass through. If the entrance was on the side of the mountain, she would not find it in the dark, but here, where it would be defended by sharp rocks, seemed a more likely place for a door. 

      An amulet of white stone, hung around her neck by a delicate chain, began to glow softly, then brightened to cast stark shadows behind the boulders. A swath of ground to her right had been trampled and worn from boulders to smooth rocks. She flapped her wings with a quick jump, landing on the trampled area. It was, indeed, a road, scratched and polished by scaly undersides. Following it brought her to a yawning black hole in the mountain's stony crown. It was rough, by no means round, and certainly not inviting. A stale smell wafted from it, as if the air in there came from the belly of the peak. The feathers on her neck fluffed up, but she stepped inside, conscious of her purpose. 

      The tunnel led steeply down, and twisted so often that Yahaira could not tell which direction she was traveling in. In one place the ceiling had buckled so that she had to duck to fit under it, praying that it would not collapse. Dragons might be comfortable underground, but she much preferred open air and the green canopy. 

     The only light was the sharp white shine of the amulet. It kept her from tripping over the occasional rock on the gravel path, but it was cheerless light, which was unusual. The amulet, representative of her status as Light Bearer, had always shone with hope and peace. Now, Yahaira lit her feathers to feel more cozy. 

      The additional light cast in the cavern around her gave her a sudden thrill. She realized that the tunnel walls were not rough, like lava tubes, as she had supposed. They were smooth and straight, marked from floor to ceiling with writing. The words were heavy, thick, formidable but graceful, and she could not recognize a single one. If she could not translate the language, it must be very old, indeed. 

      The air grew stuffier, and she began to feel a pressure around her, as if the thousands of tons of rock above was crushing down. The road was still quite steep. She was tired and uncomfortable; she was not built for walking, and her long talons kept catching in cracks in the rock. Finally she caught sight of a glow that was not her fire. She dimmed her own lights. 

      She had never seen a dragon city before, and had not known what to expect. So, when she stepped out of the tunnel onto a wide stone ledge, her breath was stolen away. She stood on a perfectly round shelf, like the lip of a bowl. Filling the bowl was magma, spitting jets of fire and lighting the entire city with a red glow. The air was so deliciously hot that it rose in thick waves, twisting the image of anything that was seen through it. The walls rose in a perfect tube, far above into darkness, and built into the walls were vast geometric edifices crafted from black glass. The road rose from the bowl and encircled the inside of the tube in a basalt spiral. It had an edge so perfect Yahaira imagined it could cut her. The obsidian houses were streaked with bewildering patterns in mahogany or snow white. All this was built on a scale many times Yahaira's size. It was beautiful. It was ancient. And it was completely, oppressively silent. She could hear herself breathe. 

     "Hello?" She called. The word echoed many times. She flew up through the quivering air to land on the road a few levels up. The doorways of each building opened right onto the street. Awkwardly, feeling like she did not belong, she stepped through into a dark room. It was square and empty, though rotting remnants of cloth and wood told her it had not always been. There was another doorway straight ahead. Though it was another chamber exactly the same shape and size as the one before. She brightened her feathers so that she could see better. Her talons clicked on the warm obsidian floor as she continued walking through. Finally, she reached a chamber the same width but many times the length of the previous rooms. There was a large fire pit in the middle of the floor and no doorway in the far wall. Instead of obsidian, this wall was made of sparkling white quartz. A glint from the ceiling drew her attention. With a gasp of joy, she clapped her wings together, making a fireball that lit several hanging chandeliers. The room immediately lit in a rainbow of dancing pinpoints. The chandeliers were twinkling with many tiny crystals. Diamonds. Of course. The dragons must have found many while they were building this city. Enraptured by the spectacle, she had to force herself to leave.

Once outside, she flew up, circling around in the tube, looking for signs of life. She caught the scent of wood smoke and followed it to the doorway of a home just like the others, except that it felt less dead. The first room was empty, but the second had the skins of many animals piled in one corner. A faint scratching came from somewhere in the room. 

      "Its all right. You can come out." There was no response, but the scratching stopped. "I won't hurt you. I'm a friend of your father's." A scaly head poked up from underneath the skins, blinking bright eyes. 

     "Did he send you?" asked a meek voice. 

     "Yes." 

     "Where is he?" 

      Yahaira blinked. "Why don't you come out? Don't be afraid." She hummed a sweet, melodious tune. 

      "I'm not afraid." A half grown, defiant dragon emerged completely. He had an ebony head and wings, but the rest of his scales were painted in bright jewel colors. "Father taught me not to be afraid," he declared with forced bravado. "I like your voice. It sounds like music. What's your name?"

      "My name is Yahaira. I'm a phoenix. What's your name?" 

      The dragon wrinkled his muzzle, huffing a puff of smoke. "You're lying. The Phoenix is a myth." 

       She trilled, "Oh? What else do you call a bird made of fire?"

       The dragon paused. He had not considered this. "My name is Kazi. Where is Father? Why are you here?" 

      She took a preparatory breath. "He asked me to take care of you. He will not return."

       "Why?" His eyes widened. Then he made a soft, keening sound. Dragons are unable to cry tears; they mourn with groans and wails. "They killed him, didn't they? Just like mother. Like everyone." Kazi hid his face under his wing, then wriggled back under the bed of skins.

      "No, don't hide-" Yahaira protested, then stopped. If it comforted him, let him hide.

      She waited for him to come out, unable to count the minutes in that age-old place. The silence was only broken by the muffled wails of the young dragon. She distantly remembered herself as a child, mourning in the same way Kazi was night after night before she went to sleep. She had not been old enough to feed herself, then, as Kazi seemed to be. With her father, hope for survival also died. If it were not for the man that took pity on her and consequently changed the course of history, someone else would be wearing the Light Bearer's amulet.

      She searched the room respectfully, looking for the source of the wood smoke and wondering if Kazi had eaten that day. Suddenly, with a scrabbling of claws and the soft thump of falling skins, the dragon emerged, his eyes blazing. Without a glance in her direction, he threw himself out the front door. Yahaira heard his wings snap open and felt a stir of hot wind. 

      "Kazi, wait!" She hurled herself after him. "Where are you going?"

      Where would she go, if someone had murdered her parents?

      She dove off of the spiral road and shot straight up, letting the thermal current speed her ascension. Kazi was flying fast and had already put distance between them. Since the entrance was below them, there must be a back door, after all. 

      Just as the light from the magma began to fade, Kazi made a sharp turn into a wide and unlit side tunnel. She followed, barely able to see the tip of his tail by the light of her amulet. Her lungs strained, leaving her unable to call out to him.

      The tunnel abruptly turned into a vertical shaft. She backpedalled hard, pushing herself away from the wall with her feet to avoid crashing, and flew straight up again. She had lost sight of Kazi, but she could still hear the whirr of his wings. Snapping her beak and uttering an indignant chirr, she let the heat in her heart burn brightly, making the shadows in the tunnel flee. With every wingbeat she flew faster, until her light was an electric blue and the tip of Kazi's tail flicked right in front of her.

      The tunnel made another ninety-degree turn, and they burst out of the mountain and under the stars. The cool night air cracked loudly as the Phoenix cut through it. Kazi dropped ten feet in surprise. Looking over his shoulder, he bared his fangs in terror and veered off. 

      "Kazi, stop!" Yahaira's voice resounded. With a quick change of course, she shot over his head, turned to face him, and opened her wings in a sudden brake. She just managed to snuff her fire before he plowed into her. They tumbled through the air, head over tail, in a tangled heap. Yahaira angled herself to take the impact just before they crashed into the trees. Flocks of birds shot away with frightened calls, monkeys scattered, and dozens of pairs of glowing green eyes scampered in all directions. Then all was quiet, except for the distant buzz of insects.

      Yahaira picked herself out of the dirt, shaking leaves and branches from her feathers and preening a little. Kazi rolled to his feet, mouth wide open. "What was that?" he demanded.

      "You wouldn't stop when I told you to," she growled, annoyed. "I think I know what you're planning to do, and I won't let you do it."

"What?" he demanded. 

"You're going to try to take revenge for your father."

"To get justice!" he cried, lashing his tail against a broken tree trunk. "Those horrible brutes deserve to be punished!" 

      "But not by you, Kazi! You can't make your own justice. You can't solve murder with murder!" 

      "I will!" he shouted in anguish. "And you can't stop me!" 

      "Yes I can." Yahaira lifted her head and straightened her posture. Kazi faltered in sudden deference under her gaze. He looked away and wailed, clawing the red soil. Yahaira winced at the sound. "Whose side are you on?" he choked. 

      "Yours," she replied sternly. "The humans killed two strong, full grown dragons, at least. What makes you think--" She was cut off by a horn blast somewhere close by. 

      "How far are we from the human village?" she asked, anxious. 

      "Close," he said dejectedly. "You should be able to see their lamp lights through there." He pointed with a wingtip toward a jumble of tall ferns.

      "Go back home, Kazi," she ordered. "Its dangerous." He hesitated, then jumped into the air just as a spear whizzed beneath him and stuck, quivering, in a tree. 

"Go!" she shouted, opening her wings, but she was struck and thrown backwards before she could take flight. She landed on her back, a spear stuck in her side. The shaft cracked, darkened, and burst into flames. Yahaira rolled to her feet and yanked it out before the shaft could burn up completely, leaving the head inside. All around her, men dressed sparsely in thin cloth burst out of the jungle with a ferocious battle cry, spears raised. 

      "Enough!" she snapped in the human language. The men wavered, lowering their spears in surprise. "I have had more of your kin today than I can stand. Let the leader of your clan step forward to speak for you!"

       For a moment, nothing happened except that the men raised their torches and stared with wide eyes. Finally, the eldest spoke. "What are you, and how can you speak in our language?" he demanded. 

      "I am Yahaira, the Light Bearer. I have come to bring peace to this island, but I am treated with contempt. Lower your weapons!" All obeyed, whispering to one another, except for the leader. "What is your name?" she asked him. 

      "I am Bodan," he replied, finally letting the butt of his spear rest in the grass. "This is Damir and Lel." He pointed to the men on his left and his right. "If you have really come to bring peace, then there is something you should see." He turned away without a backward glance and forged back through the undergrowth. The others followed, as did Yahaira.

      Within a few paces they came into a clearing coated in yellowed grass. In the middle of the clearing was a scattering of a few square homes that sat squatly and strangely in the dim light of a few fires. She stepped over a rectangular arrangement of stones poking up through the grass. They were blackened.

      As she stepped into the light of the bonfires, she saw why the human houses looked so odd. The roofs were caved in and smoking lazily. Women and children huddled around the few fires, tired and barely raising their heads as the men returned. Some of the children started crying when they spotted Yahaira, and the mothers hugged them tightly to their sides.

      Bodan was standing over a bundle on the road. He motioned her over, then pulled back a cloth to reveal a blackened corpse. Yahaira turned away in horror. The hunting party showed no emotion at all, displaying the cold detachment she had seen in old soldiers. "This was Damir's mother," Bodan stated flatly. Damir's mouth hardened in response. 

       He strode over to the mass of women with the others following, and roughly grabbed the shoulder of a child on the ground, turning her head. The side of her face was melted and red; there was no hair on her scalp. Her unburned skin was a sickly grey. She barely breathed. "This is Mila," Bodan declared. "All this--" he raised his arms to take in the scene, "--was done by the dragon we killed today."

      With a heavy heart, Yahaira stepped toward the injured girl. An older woman blocked her path, trembling, but her brow furrowed in determination. "Its alright," Yahaira said gently. "I won't hurt her." The woman shot a questioning glance at Bodan; her eyes wandered for help. Then she stepped aside.

"Nothing more you can do to her anyway," she barked, trying to cover the pain in her voice with a harsh tone. 

     Yahaira sat next to the human girl, completely hiding her feet with her belly feathers. She bowed her head, remembering her own losses and considering the girl's present pain. The little girl moaned in what must be terrible agony. Not much of her was left unburned. Her heart ached for the child. A shimmering tear leaked out of her eye, trickled down her hooked beak, and splashed onto the girl's hand. She held her breath, waiting. The burns on the girl's face retreated like the tide. Healthy bronze skin replaced the charred flesh, and raven-black hair sprouted where there had been none. Mila took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The surrounding crowd burst into a cacophony of astonishment. Yahaira sat up in gratification and gave a little self-congratulating hum. 

      "What did you do?" 

      "Who are you?" 

      "How did you do that?" The voices came from all directions. Yahaira ignored them all and focused on the child. Mila was blinking sleepily. She smiled. "You're pretty," she announced, reaching up to touch Yahaira's soft feathers.

      "Thank you," she responded gleefully. The older woman, who she assumed to be Mila's mother, embraced the child, breaking into sobs. The other adults had tears in theirs eyes as well. How odd it seemed, that death could not touch their impenatrable exteriors, but life crumbled all of their defenses. 

"The tears of a phoenix, though rare, can heal any wound," she explained finally, standing. She did not mention that the elixir, once used, would take months to regenerate. 

"A phoenix," someone repeated. Many eyes stared at her in wonder.

 "So it's true," Mila's mother said in a kindlier voice. "We heard rumors from the north that the Phoenix had been reborn." 

"You said you have come to bring peace to our island," Bodan said in a voice that was now more diplomatic than brusque.

 "Will you free us of the scourge of the dragons?" Lel asked. At this suggestion, hopeful voices rose in the crowd, voicing encouragement. Yahaira raised a wing in a "wait" gesture. 

"I have come to arrange peace talks between you and the remainder of the dragon tribe."

 "Peace talks!" Bodan spat. "What conversation would we have with those devils? They have ravaged our villages for years. They've stolen our livelihoods and our families." A violent cheer erupted from the gathered crowd, speaking of a deep-seated hatred. 

"You have murdered many of their kind as well," Yahaira pointed out.

 "It's no more than they deserve!" growled one of the hunting party.

 "How did this conflict begin?" she asked patiently. 

 "When our forefathers first came to this island, they were sheepherders," an old man wrapped in a blanket provided. "The dragons attacked the shepherds and scattered the sheep, gorging themselves on fresh meat. Our fathers killed a dragon with their spears, to protect the flock. The dragons set fire to the village. That is why we build our houses out of stone, not wood. And, it is why we hunt the hated lizards." 

 "Vermin," someone else added. 

 Yahaira's feathers bristled in outrage. "Vermin!" She tried to keep her voice calm. "The dragons are an ancient civilization. Their people and language are older than the rocks you stand on. They have ruled over this island since before mankind set foot on the earth. They have cities, dances, songs, long traditions. You display the ignorance of your kind."

 "If it is as you say, then perhaps it is a war that we wage," Lel admitted grudgingly. 

"Stop the bloodshed!" Yahaira pleaded to them all. "No more lives need to be taken by this feud. Agree to live separate and peaceful lives, sharing the island." The humans grumbled their dissent.

 "When he died, my father made me promise to protect my people," Bodan said. "The only way to ensure that is to kill the dragons. I have sworn my life to this task." The others in the hunting party nodded. 

 "Kazi has never harmed you. He is only a child-- the last of his race. Let him live." 

"Kazi?" Some of the men asked scornfully. "The phoenix is on a first name basis with it!" 

"So it can grow up to kill our own children?" a woman asked in consternation. 

Bodan shook his head. "No." 

Yahaira clucked deep in her throat in frustration. "You refuse to meet with the dragon to consider peace?" 

"I refuse." The humans cheered Bodan's answer. 

"Then let him leave in safety." The village quieted at Yahaira's last suggestion. "Let me take him far away from this island, his ancestral home, to live in peace elsewhere." 

 Bodan, Lel, Damir, and a few of the silver-haired elders put their heads together and whispered. Yahiara tried not to listen, though she could hear them easily. "There will be a meeting of the elders to consider this offer," the old man who had told the story of the beginning of the feud said. "Let the phoenix be treated as a guest until a decision can be reached." The elders moved off in a cluster, and those who still had homes began to disperse as well. Yahaira looked down to see Mila's mother still standing beside her.

 "My name is Iryna," she said. "Would you like water to drink?" 

"Thank you, but I do not drink water," Yahaira replied. "Nor do I eat the food of Humankind." Iryna bowed as if to leave, but Mila would not come away with her mother. 

"What is that?" She asked in her small voice, pointing to the phoenix's softly glowing pendant. 

 "It is the Amulet of the Light-Bearers. Do you like it?" Mila nodded enthusiastically, her black hair waving about. Yahaira crouched down again. "Hold it in your hand." Mila reached out and grabbed the gold-set pendant. On the first touch she jumped, releasing the white stone with a rounding of her bright brown eyes. She stared up into Yahaira's face, resisting her mother's pull back. The phoenix thrummed in amusement at Mila's wonder. "There, little human-child," she sang quietly. "Now you know a secret that you must never forget." Iryna pulled her daughter away with a quick step and a worried backwards glance, while Mila continued to look back until the pair disappeared into one of the few standing homes. 

Yahaira dozed as she waited for the elders' return. When they finally emerged from a large, low building, dawn had graced the sky behind the mountain-city. She stood and stretched her wings over her head, showing her bright gold undersides. The elders and warrior men alike looked exhausted. They approached her.

 "We have decided," said the eldest of the group in a tremulous voice, "that the young dragon may have safe passage away from our island, as long as you ensure that he will never come back."

 She breathed a sigh of relief, heating the morning air. "It will be as you say." She bowed gracefully, opening her wings. "Thank you for your kind and forgiving hearts. I will ensure that Kazi does not forget it." The elders did not respond, and she took their silence as a cue to leave. Backing away, she launched into the air, stirring up a cloud of red dust. 

 Kazi was resting on the nest of skins when she returned. He was not sleeping, and looked as if he had not slept all night. His mourning song had ceased, leaving only exhaustion. His scales were dull. Sad eyes shifted to follow her as she sat beside him. 

 "What was your father's name, Kazi? I never asked." 

The fiery irises returned to their fixation on the wall. "Reon."

 "Tell me about him." 

Kazi's claws flexed in and out of his leather bed. "He was brave. He fought many men to save Mamma, but she was slow and heavy with an egg. Last time I saw him, he was wounded and angry. He fed me a deer and left." He broke off with a long groan. 

 "I'm sorry, Kazi." So he had lost both his parents and an unborn sibling on the same day. She paused, considering the appropriateness of her question. "Why did the dragons start fighting the humans?"

 "Many years ago, when Father and Momma were young, the humans crossed to the island from the mainland. They brought with them their animals and their young ones. Though they did not ask permission to settle in dragon territory, the leaders of the city let them stay, because they didn't see any harm in them. But soon, the sheep and the humans protecting them unbalanced the natural turn of nature on the island. The dragons' prey began to disappear. The hatchlings starved, and the dragons grew angry. They set out to drive the humans from their island and take their meat for recompense. But the humans fought back and killed our kind." He growled. "I should have destroyed them like father tried to do. I should have died a fighting dragon. I should have made Father proud." 

"No, Kazi. The time for fighting is over now. Reon asked me to take care of you, to see that you are safe. He wouldn't want you to fight."

 He closed his eyes. "There's no one left, Yahaira. I'm the last dragon in the world." 

"That isn't true. I know a dragon in the far north named Chikezie. He helped me in a battle. He guards the faerie lands from the fearsome creatures of the ice world." 

Kazi lifted his head at this. "There are more dragons?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes."

 "Are there great cities like this, filled with them?"

 "I don't know," she admitted. "I only met Chikezie. He is very old and grumpy, but I think you would like him. I do."

 "It sounds so far away." He rested his chin on the soft fur again.

 "It isn't so bad. I will take you there to him. We will set out today." 

"What?" Kazi sat up. "You're making me leave home?"

 "There is no other way," she explained. "If you do not leave, you will never be safe. The humans have vowed to kill you if you stay." 

Kazi gave an angry dragon-roar, tinged with fire. "I hate them! Their hearts are black." 

 "Not all humans are evil." 

 "How do you know?" he growled. 

 "I used to be one."

 Kazi started out of his anger. "What?"

 "Phoenix are not born of an egg, Kazi. They have to be chosen. The phoenix who gave this to me, Ghaith-" she brushed her amulet with a wing- "gave his life to save me. His sacrifice made me the Light Bearer. He told me, before he died, that seeking revenge would only harm me. He was right." A dark cloud passed over her face as she relived some painful memory. 

"What kind of human were you?" Kazi asked, interested.

 "I was a good human; at least, I tried to be. My name was Sacha, then. I was a young warrior, the only woman in an elite guard called the Chosaint." She stood. "But that was another life, and seems so long ago, now. The humans have given you safe passage away from the island. Try to eat something. Then we will go." 

They emerged from the mountain at the sun's height, rising slowly over the trees on warm air currents. Kazi looked back over his shoulder at the fire-mountain as they left it, uttering a wail. "We will make you a new home," Yahaira told him. "One where you will be safe and happy, and can learn from other dragons as you grow." He turned back around and nodded.

 It was a beautiful day. There were no more clouds above them, and the blue of the sky reflected off of the ocean. The water, so wild yesterday, peacefully caressed the shore, the sound of its rush and fall nearly drowned out by the cries of jungle creatures. The summer sun was heating the earth so that other animals were probably panting in the shade, but the dragon and phoenix basked in the heat.

Yahaira heard a whistle from below. She looked down, opened her beak to cry out, but it was too late. Propelled by some unseen force, a harpoon sunk deep into Kazi's chest. The little dragon floundered, his wings folding, and he dropped with a cry of pain.

 Screeching in fury and grief, Yahaira dived after him, but she could not reach him before he crashed into whatever wooden contraption had thrown the harpoon, crushing it. She landed hard beside him, nearly rolling with the impact. Kazi's broken wings were pulled up over his head. His tail lay limply across the mangled wood.

"Kazi!" Panting, she drew up beside him. He breathed in short gasps, his eyes rolled halfway back. She saw the red, glistening tip of the harpoon poking up through the scales on his back. The shaft protruded from his chest. He blinked and his eyes met hers, though they were unfocused. He was keening softly, faintly crying. 

 "Sing," he begged quietly. She tried to sing, though her voice was broken by emotion. She sang a dragon song of the ancient days when the dragons' empire reached right across the world, when they graced the sky with their jewel colored scales and powerful wings. She kept singing even after she knew Kazi was dead, because she did not know what else to do.

 When the song ended, she found herself surrounded by humans. They had fallen not far from the village. Mila was there with Iryna, her little faced pinched and head hanging, tears dripping into the dust. Iryna held her hand tightly. No one spoke. Even the birds were quiet. 

"Fools!" she shouted in her grief. "You take everything you want and give nothing in return. You kill whenever it gratifies you and console yourselves by saying that those you murder are thoughtless beasts. You pillage what is not yours and claim it is your right because you are strong. Savage apes! I came to bring you hope and peace, but because of what you have done, they will abandon you. Because you have no mercy, your hands are red with your own blood!" 

Turning away with a constricted throat, Yahaira lifted Kazi's body into the air. Every pair of human eyes watched her carry the young dragon to his father's resting place and light his funeral pire. They watched the Light Bearer fly away, shrinking smaller and smaller until they could see her no more. 

 The sun burned their skin.

Reviews

[xx_strawberry_xx]

Okay, I don't even know where to start. This story was, simply put, amazing. Thankyou so much for this, I actually loved it much more than I thought I would. Within such a short time you managed to do things with this story that some writers cannot do in entire novels, so congratulations.

I really didn't expect that ending at all either, so great job with that. All in all, I don't think I have any criticism at all, it was really well written. I guess I would just say the same as what the other reviewer said, which was just to go over it once and tighten up the grammar.

I loved the fact that you told this story from the point of view of a non-human, which is something I haven't seen often (at least, recently). And it was really well done, and the information of backstory on the main character as well as Kazi and his father were lovely, and only added to the story. Well done!

If there's ever a sequel to this one than message me to let me know, because I'd love to read it.
A couple lines I really loved:
- "If Yahaira could smile, she would."
- And this one, because its so true (within this story, at least): "How odd it seemed, that death could not touch their impenatrable exteriors, but life crumbled all of their defenses. "

Thanks again for this. It was wonderful to read.

[Christyn Jeffries]

Thank you. I'm proud of this story and your praise warms my heart.

[KAin]

Beautiful imagery, beautiful setting. There's a loving attention to detail and a VERY under-appreciated willingness to take your time telling the story. This is just excellent work! Well done!

[Christyn Jeffries]

Thank you!

[Sioranth Smith]

This is a beautifully sad story. You write with a lot of vivid imagery. One critique I could offer is to tighten up on grammar a little bit. It's all really minor stuff like "water-heavy air" should be hyphenated. You could maybe consider getting rid of some of the more awkward commas by changing verb tense or rearranging. For example, "Along the shore, cloaked in mist, trees bowed in a dizzying dance, groaning and cracking." could be "Along the shore, trees cloaked in mist groaned and cracked as they bowed in a dizzying dance." I was interrupted no less than 3 times while reading this but kept coming back right away to finish it. I could really feel the panic and struggle and tiredness when she was trying to pull the dragon free from the rocks and the sea. I'll be interested in seeing what happens next!

[Christyn Jeffries]

Thanks! I'll fix that awkward grammar.

[Christyn Jeffries]

I finished the story.

[Sioranth Smith]

The ending is heart-wrenching but I'm glad it didn't have a happy ending. I think this story teaches an important lesson that we all should remember.

[Christyn Jeffries]

Thanks! That was the purpose. ;)