Chapter 2

Only been here for two days, and already sh*t's happining

        

Desmond.  Desmond, are you awake?  Jasmin called.

            “Nope,” Desmond answered groggily.

            Well, wake up.  Everyone else is out and about, but you are still lying there sleeping.

            “It’s too early,” Desmond complained.

            It’s almost noon!

            “Five more minutes,”

            Jasmin growled and closed her jaws around his left earlobe and began pulling.  That certainly had a reviving affect.

            “Ow! Hey! Jasmin let go!” Desmond shouted.

            She gave his ear one final tug, none too softly, and released him.  Desmond sat up and rubbed his throbbing ear lobe, glaring angrily at her.

            “What was that for?”  He demanded.

            I had to get you up one way or another; you can’t be lying around while everyone else is doing something.  Jasmin said.

            “Well, I’m sure as hell awake now,” Desmond grumbled.

            I’m hungry.  She said.

            “So my ear wasn’t enough for you?”  He snapped.

            Oh, stop your whining.  It’s not even bleeding, She jumped down from the bed and flapped her wings and sighed somewhat longingly, what I wouldn’t give to be able to fly. 

            “Sure, change the subject.”  Desmond said as he stood from the bed and stretched.  It was at this moment that he noticed Jasmin had grown a few inches overnight.

            “I wonder how long it will be before you can learn how to hunt, or maybe you are supposed to figure that out on your own?” He said as he gathered one of the uniforms in his arms. “I just now realized, I don’t know where I’m supposed to bathe.”

            Maybe there is a shower behind that door.  Jasmin said.

            “Door�"?”  Desmond turned and looked around.

            That one on the other side of the bed

            He walked to the other side and sure enough, there was a normal-sized wooden door.  Odd enough, he had not noticed it before.  But then again, there had been many things he had not noticed, considering his attention span was no longer than his temper, which is no more than half a Nanosecond. 

            “Huh…that wasn’t there before,” Desmond opened the door, still carrying his clothes in one arm. 

Somehow, what Jasmin had predicted is exactly what happened.  It was kind of creepy the way she did that, Desmond thought, to have a friend who almost seemed psychic.

“How did you know…?”  Desmond paused.

I didn’t.  Jasmin replied.

            “Okay…” He carried his clothes into the bathroom and hurriedly shut the door behind him. 

            The bathroom was small, as was to be expected, with a toilet and a sink on the right hand side.   The shower was only a small six-by-six foot spot on the far wall, smaller tile squares laid down, putting a dent in the larger tile pattern of the rest of the floor.  In the center of the shower was a drain, the grates nearly rusted away from the excessive exposure to water.  A shower curtain surrounded the small chamber hanging with plastic rings close to the roof on a metal rod, also showing brown spots of rust.

            The curtain was, to Desmond’s dismay, completely see-through, no colors whatsoever.  What was the point, he thought; of having a shower curtain that could not even shield him?  He worried that if someone were to barge in without knocking while he was in the midst of bathing, that he would be completely exposed with no way to conceal himself for vanity’s sake.  Thankfully, that had not happened today.  When he finished bathing, he changed into the uniform, which was excellently comfortable, and studied his self in the mirror.  His hair, to his disgust, had started to grow out longer than he wanted.  He brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and, alarmed, pulled his hand away and looked at it.  Small trickles of blood smoothly ran down his fingers in thin streams, it was not much, at least, and it certainly wouldn’t leave any scars.

            Desmond grunted and dabbed at the small wound with a towel and, leaving his clothes strewn about on the floor, walked out of the door and found Jasmin curled up on his bed asleep, which was rather ironic, considering the way she complained when he himself slept late.  He sighed and shook her gently, a better way of waking someone than the method she used.

            “Wake up,” he said, “you’re not going to lay there and sleep the day away, not after the way you woke me up.”

            I wasn’t sleeping, she said, lifting her head up quickly.

            “Yeah, right,” Desmond said, tugging at the sleeves of his uniform, “By the way, my ear was bleeding.”

            You look very nice in that uniform, she said quickly, obviously trying to change the subject again.

            Desmond sat on the bed and tied the laces on his boots.  “I haven’t the slightest idea on what to do about these classes I’m supposed to attend,” he said. “Maybe Nick will help me out, I should go and find him… oh, wait, here he comes. Perfect timing.”  He stood up and greeted Nick, who handed him a slip of paper.

            “I’m glad to see you haven’t been strapped,” he said, “what did you say to him to make him change his mind?”  Meaning the Head.

            “Just a few smart-a*s comments and threats, nothing really serious.”  Desmond said, looking through the list of classes he had just been handed.  “And I just found out that Jasmin is physically abusive.”

            At this, Jasmin snorted disapprovingly, I am not!

            “Well, a little motivation is to be expected from a dragon.”  Nick said, after Desmond had told him the events of that morning…or noon, whenever he had woken up.

            “I don’t think a ‘little motivation’ is quite right.  More like a good way to scare the hell out of someone while they’re having such peaceful dreams.”

            “Anyway, I came to tell you I had your original schedule , so you won’t have to worry about getting lost in this place trying to find where you belong.”  Nick said.

            “That’s a relief.  So, we should go tomorrow�"”

            “Tomorrow?  Classes don’t start until two hours from now.”

            That was a surprise.  As far as Desmond had been concerned, classes started at nearly five o’clock in the morning and finished at nine or ten in the afternoon.  Not anything he had necessarily heard from anyone, but an explanation his own mind had conjured up.

            He took the two-hour opportunity to find out where he could get some meat for Jasmin.  With Nick’s help, he found a butcher’s shop posted in the courtyard.  The butcher, more friendly than the cafeteria cook, supplied Desmond with some ten pounds of raw pork and beef.  After Jasmin had eaten her fill, Desmond discarded what leftovers there were. When you live in a large city surrounded by a forest teeming with wildlife and materials, there wasn’t much of a need for rationing.

            Near the end of his two-hour preparation time, Desmond received his own breakfast of flavorless oatmeal cereal and an orange from the cook who regarded him with an unfriendly glare.  After shooting his own glare, Desmond sat himself at a lonely table near the far wall, which took a bit of time to reach considering the vast size of the room and the other soldiers and riders buzzing about their own business.  He took his time eating; there was still nearly forty-five minutes until the first class began.

 

            The first class, which Desmond only found with Nick’s help, had been on the basics of navigation coordinates, latitude and longitude and what-not.  Some subjects in that matter seemed interesting enough to capture his attention.  Such as the way the stars in the sky were set up in a way to figure out one’s location, on most nights.  It was also interesting to learn the legend of the spirits of fallen riders taking on the form of stars in the sky in that peculiar navigation pattern, and lighting the path for any lost wanderer.  If one were to gaze up at the sky on a clear night, they would see that the stars twinkled and shone brighter than any other location in the world, hence the name Starlight.

            His second class had been particularly interesting.  This class had been about the psychic bond between rider and dragon.  The instructor was an odd sort of fellow with a cheerful voice who introduced himself as Mr. Cley.

            “The one thing a dragon devotes its life to, is to protect their rider,” Mr. Cley said, “they have a sixth sense that detects when their rider is injured or sick, one of the benefits of the bond.  The same goes for emotions, when a rider feels lethargy or depression, their dragon will be able to feel that emotion as if it were their own.”

            “What about protective instincts?”  One of the younger riders asked.

            “Instincts are what most people refer to it as.”  Mr. Cley began. “Though most animals such as dogs or cats are driven entirely by instinct, their emotions come from what their instincts command them to think.  But dragons are entirely different.  They have instincts, yes, but their emotions and feelings truly come from heart and are as real as ours.

            “One down side to this protective instinct is, sometimes a dragon can get so fond of their rider that they may play the role of nursemaid.  Of course it may get a little annoying, but what most don’t understand is that a rider is greatly cherished.”

            “So basically,” Desmond said, “a dragon can be overly protective, but they have no problem with the riders fighting in battles and risking their lives on missions?”

            “I never said that,” Mr. Cley replied, “we have had such cases when dragons threaten to leave with their riders because some missions have been too dangerous.”

            “But that’s AWOL isn’t it?”  Nick asked.

            “Yes, it is.  And such a crime can lead to life imprisonment or even execution in other cities.”  Mr. Cley informed.

            One of the dragons attending the class, purplish in color and nearly thirty feet long, snorted at this.

            I would like to see someone try and execute my rider.  She said, voice clearly female.

            “That’s exactly what I mean, Nicholas.”  Mr. Cley said.  “Your own dragon already never lets you out of her sight, but trust me, it’ll get worse.”

            While Mr. Cley continued with his speech, Desmond turned to Nick and asked in a voice just above a whisper. 

“Is that your dragon?”

            “Yep, her name is Desiree.”  Nick answered.  “I’ll let you meet her after class, she’s really friendly.”

            “Friendly?  With serrated teeth and claws?”  Desmond said

            “Well, she’s friendly to most people…as long as they’re not pointing a gun or sword at our heads.”

            Just then Mr. Cley broke in by clearing his throat.  “Gentlemen, I trust that we are paying attention?”

            “Yes sir,” Nick said hastily.

            “Well, Mr. Nicholas, since you seem confident enough, why don’t you repeat to the rest of the class what I have just said about the basics of wilderness survival.”

 

            As they filed out of the classroom, Desmond met with Nick nearby the cafeteria, his dragon waiting patiently behind him.

            Is this him? She asked.  He looks friendly enough, though he looks a bit skinny.

            “You do know he can hear you, right?”  Nick said to her. 

            Forgive me; Desiree said quickly, I meant no offense.

            “None taken,” Desmond answered, then added flatly, “I get that a lot.”

            He gestured to Jasmin who stood at his heels.

            “This is Jasmin,” he said, and flinched a bit when Desiree bent to examine her.

            Look at that, she said, not two days out of the shell and she already looks ready for battle.

            As Jasmin preened, Desmond grumbled, “Okay, that was a little offensive.”  Meaning the way the first thing Desiree said to him was an insult when she met him, but the first thing she says to Jasmin is a compliment.

            Desiree drew back quickly, surprised, then she turned her attention to Nick.

            See what you did?  She snapped.  Now I feel guilty.

            “What the hell did I do?”  Nick shot back.  “You’re the one who insulted him in the first place!”

            Well, you should have told me he would take it harshly.  I didn’t mean to make it sound like an insult; I was merely making an observation.

            “It’s nothing, really.”  Desmond said.  “No big deal.”

            After they had ceased their quarreling, Nick led the way to the next class.  This class was based on the elemental powers that the riders had yet to find from within.

            As they walked, Desiree said to him, I meant no offense, really.

 

            “And so,” their instructor, Mr. Kenn said, “When your element has been assigned to you new, third-class riders, I will teach you the basics of controlling that element along with the more experienced students.  Now, line up in single-file in front of the table.”

            All of the third class did as they were instructed, Desmond found himself at the very end.  Mr. Kenn laid out four stones, each a different color representing an element, one orange, one blue, one brown, and one yellow.

            “Now,” he said, “I want each of you to touch all four stones, whichever color starts to glow, that will be your chosen element.  Remember, these stones are very ancient.  They have been used for this purpose for nearly three thousand years.  Some even say that Arthur himself used these stones to find his element.

            “And for those of you who haven’t the least notion of who King Arthur is, then I’d better tell you all the story before we move on.”

            Everyone leaned in closer to hear this story.  Desmond had heard of Arthur, but all he knew was that every one on their side of the Border of Sorrow had been fighting against him.  So he to leaned in to listen.

            “Many years ago, some say hundreds, some even say thousands, but know one truly knows, Arthur was but a boy.  So far from the king we know today.  His own dragon never chose him, but came to him years after she herself hatched, and well at the end of youth.  She taught him combat and the very advanced notions of politics.  Her having more years of experience in half her life than he in his whole life.  She grew fond of him and they spent nearly every day together, flying and hunting and teaching.  She was as much a mentor as a very dear companion.

            “But, this story doesn’t have a happy ending, I’m afraid.  Arthur’s own brother, Jermyn, grew increasingly jealous of him.  His own rights of becoming a rider being stripped from him for reasons not even he himself knew.  Over the years, this jealousy evolved into pure hatred.  So much hatred, that it nearly drove Jermyn insane.  Evil ideas began to gnaw at his very being, until finally, he could stand it no longer.  Arthur though, refused to believe that his brother hated him.  He loved his brother and he never suspected what Jermyn had in mind for him.

            “Then one night, while Arthur was sleeping in his bed, Jermyn came into his room with a hunting knife drawn.  As he approached, he did not notice that Arthur’s dragon was also in the room, nor did he pay any mind that she was watching closely.  And before Jermyn could deliver the deadly blow, the dragon was upon him.  She slashed his chest open with her claws and batted him against the wall.  Arthur, who had woken up from the noise, stood frozen in horror staring at his brother’s limp body and his dragon’s bloodstained claws.  She tried to explain to him that she was protecting him from his brother’s murderous intent, but Arthur would have none of it. 

“Days later, in his own corrupt madness, he faked his own death. He gathered a band of some hundred followers, and after raiding cities nearby, hundreds turned to thousands, to tens of thousands, to a nearly unstoppable hundred thousand.  Soon, he declared himself a king and held a reign that divided the whole of Starlight in two.  His dragon, meanwhile, disappeared in the skies, and has never been seen since and believed to be dead.”

The silence that followed made Desmond’s skin crawl. 

An interesting history lesson in a class that teaches elements.  He thought.  How convenient.

After the strange minute-like seconds drew to an end, Mr. Kenn cleared his throat, and Desmond, along with the rest of the class, was drawn from the excitement of their own imaginations.

“But did Arthur really use these very stones?”  Desmond asked, after the tension had finally subsided.

“I told you, that is what people say,” Mr. Kenn answered, “I never said it was true.”

“Then…what element did he have?”  Another rider asked.

But Mr. Kenn was quick to avoid this question…Desmond hated it when people avoided his questions.

“Enough questions,” he said, “let us continue with our elemental selections.”

Mother f**ker…

As the first student, a young boy around the age of twelve, ran his fingers along the surface of each assorted color.  After nearly five minutes, the stone that held the color of yellow began to glow, casting a dim illumination across the surface of the table.

Air.

As the student sat down, still looking strangely dazed, the next student in line stepped forward, a bit reluctantly, and mimicked the other’s actions.  And after another few minutes, the orange stone lit up.

Fire.

Then the next student had the brown stone start glowing.

Earth.

And the fourth student, nearly Desmond’s age, had his element chosen with the blue stone.

Water.

With every student that stepped forward and touched the stones, one stone illuminated.  Desmond began to grow restless with unnerving excitement as the line grew shorter.  Again, he began to daydream of how it would be with an element and what powers he could be capable with that element.

Being lost in his thoughts, he did not notice that the line had nearly subsided.  And when his own turn came up, he nearly jumped in surprise when Mr. Kenn called his name and snapped him out of his fantasies.

Embarrassed, he stepped forward and slowly reached his hand out toward the stones.  But he hesitated, all of a sudden he felt unsure of himself, but for a reason he could not quite explain.  He glanced at Mr. Kenn, who gave a nod of approval.  Then, without further hesitation, he carefully brushed his hand across the cool, smooth surface of each stone.

For a few minutes, nothing happened.  Which seemed normal as it always took a few minutes for a stone to light up.  But this time, it was different.  Three minutes passed by, then five, and then ten.  Growing impatient, Desmond thought of trying again when one of the stones, the orange one, slowly began to glow with an eerie, abnormally dim illumination.

Fire.

The word echoed through his mind with a peculiar hypnotic effect and seemed nearly permanent, almost as if it would never cease.  Then, something else happened.

Earth.

            Desmond looked at the stones and strangely enough, the brown stone began to cast that same unusual glow.  Earth and fire?

            Okay, now I’m scared.

Again.

            Water.

            And then finally, the last.

            Air.

            As each stone sat glowing on the table, Desmond felt a sudden uneasiness that increased as the stones glowed even brighter.  All four words rang through his head and repeated with the same hypnotic echo.      Fire.  Earth.  Water.  Air.  Fire.  Earth.  Water.  Air…

            All of a sudden, a flash of light covered over his eyesight and seemed nearly blinding.  All of his senses, and that of the world around him, seemed entirely oblivious and nonexistent.  It felt as if all of his senses had been stripped of him and he was only some non-living entity.  He could not feel, he could not see, he could not smell or taste; he could not even feel the clothes on his body.  He was just…there.

            The strange trance lasted only a few seconds, but to him it seemed an eternity, until the alien illumination within his sight vanished as quickly as it came.

The hypnotic trance left Desmond dazed and light-headed and his legs dangerously unsteady.  He reached his hand up to rub his forehead, and then his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor.  For a brief second, he heard Mr. Kenn, Nick and the rest of the class let out a startled gasp as his head collided loudly with the hard tile floor.  Jasmin called out his name, her voice cracking with fear and worry.

            Desmond!

Then everything went black.

 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Nick, Mr. Kenn, and a few other students leaning over him, looks of concern on their faces.  Jasmin was near his head, gently nudging his cheek.

“Are you all right?”  Mr. Kenn asked.

“Not…really…” Desmond said groggily.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

            “Four?”

            “No, two,” Mr. Kenn sighed. “That was quite a fall, I was wondering if you would ever wake up.”

            “Well, I’m awake.  Or I’m still unconscious and this is a dream…”  Desmond tried to sit up, but a sudden pounding in his head made him groan and hold a hand to his head.  Nick gently held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

            “Easy,” he said, “you might have a concussion,”

            Desmond’s memory flickered back to that strange trance that seemed to bind him.

            “What…was that?” he asked.

            Mr. Kenn looked worried for a second and Desmond was he would start telling some sort of ancient voodoo curse story that would turn his whole life to endless events of misfortune.  But instead, Mr. Kenn just shook his head.

            “I don’t know, but I think it would help you a great deal if you went back to your bunk.”

            That really pisses me off…

            “No,” Desmond protested.  “No, I’ll be fine.”

            Listen to him, Desmond.  Jasmin said.

            Jasmin, I’ve had worse, believe me.  He reassured.

            “If you do have a concussion, it’s only going to get worse if you try to toughen it out.”  Nick warned.  “There was once a guy who hit his head the same way, and when he tried to ignore it, he collapsed later on and died just like that.  Turns out, he had a hemorrhage in his brain and it caused severe blood loss.”

            “I’m fine�"”

            “That’s enough arguing,” Mr. Kenn said.  “Nicholas, would you would be so kind as to help him back to his bunk?”

            “Sure,” Nick said, gently taking Desmond’s arm not at all reluctantly.

            Desmond seemed sure enough that he could walk on his own, but as soon as he stood, he was overcome with lightheadedness and nausea.  His knees grew weak and buckled, threatening to drive him to the floor once again.  Nick had to hold his arm around his neck to keep him from losing his balance.

            “I’ll send for a doctor to check in in an hour, you may be fine, but it’s best to make sure.”  Mr. Kenn said gently.

            After they returned to the dormitory, Desmond lay himself down into the soft blankets.

            “Thanks for the help, Nick.” He said.

            “No problem,”

            After Nick walked away, glancing back more than once, Desmond lifted himself up carefully, ignoring Jasmin’s warning growl.  Although, he certainly thought that he could manage himself, that oh-so-familiar wave of nausea washed over him. And this time it was so overwhelming, he made a quick dash for a nearby wastebasket and vomited almost everything he had eaten since breakfast.  After he felt his stomach was empty enough, he staggered sluggishly back to the bed, Jasmin’s warning growl turned a concerned silence.

            He carefully sank back into the blankets, making sure not to make any sudden jolts that would worsen his throbbing headache. 

            Now, he said quietly, I know for sure it’s a concussion.

             Desmond, please don’t push yourself so hard.  Jasmin said softly.

            I can’t just lie around all day!  He protested.

            Have you ever learned to realize that you’ve had enough and just need to stop for a moment?

            No, I have not.

            Well I’m telling you now.  I may only be a day old, but I have enough knowledge to know how dangerous a head injury can be.

            You sure seem to know a lot about things, I’ll have to ask Mr. Cley if he knows something about that.  Desmond replied, somewhat smartly.

            Jasmin never had a chance to say anything else.  At that same moment, Desmond closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

            His dreams came off and on, and whenever they came, they were strangely put together.  Mostly, he only seemed to see random frames coming and going with only a millisecond between frames.  Almost similar to blinking one’s eyes fast enough to see the world broken up between images.  Some seemed to not make any sense at all, while others appeared horrid, frightening pictures of things and events that were clear enough to describe, but quick enough to leave his memory with only the faintest idea.  These certain images jarred him awake more than once, but left him only just as tired and he brushed it from his mind and fell asleep again almost immediately after waking. 

            But Jasmin noticed these strange minor jolts.  She could not see the images herself, but she clearly felt his fear and scares and while Desmond ignored them, they made her increasingly nervous.  She feared that this may be a symptom of damage from the concussion, but shoved aside the thought.  After all, there was a doctor coming.  And maybe he would only diagnose it as a minor symptom that would wear off eventually.  But even this thought was not entirely comforting.

           

            Desmond woke with a cold, wet sensation on his forehead.  Reaching up, he felt the fabric of a soaked cloth spread out just above his eyes.  Jasmin sat awake next to him, carefully watching the movements of a short, middle-aged man as he read through notes from a wooden clipboard. 

            When he noticed Desmond’s coming to, he acknowledged him with a faint grin.

            “Glad to see you’ve finally woken up,” he asked in a slightly raspy, but warm voice.  “You’ve been asleep for five hours.  That dragon of yours would barely let me near you, it took a moment to convince her that I was sent by Jarod.”

            “Jarod?”  Desmond repeated in a slightly raspy voice of his own.

            “The Head of the Cooperation,”

            “Huh, so that’s his name.  Do you know him well?”

             “Oh, yeah.  He and I go way back.  I’ve treated his soldiers for twenty-six years.”

            “What’s your name?”  Desmond asked.

            “Wilkes.”

            “Doctor Wilkes?”

            “No, just Wilkes.  I don’t know why, but I get a bit annoyed with the whole doctor title.”  He said, scribbling notes on his clipboard. 

            “Well, that seems a little unreasonable.”

“Well, you’ve messed yourself up quite a bit, but nothing too serious.  It may take about eleven days for the symptoms to subside.”

            “E…eleven days?”

            “But it would take up to three weeks for you to make a full recovery.”

            “Three weeks?”  Desmond exclaimed. “You’re sh*tting me, right?”

            Please lie back down, Desmond.  Jasmin said gently.

            Desmond realized he had propped himself on his elbows in his shocked state.  He slowly sank back down and let out a long, heavy sigh.

            Three weeks.  He thought with growing malaise.

            Three weeks isn’t that bad.  Jasmin commented.

            You’ll be almost nine feet tall by then!

            “It would be best to stay away from any physical activity or working,” Wilkes said, “you’ll only end up hurting yourself if you try to push yourself.”

            There!  You see?  That’s exactly what I told him.  Jasmin smugly commented.

            Three weeks… 

            “The only medications you should have to worry about are headache pills. I would recommend aspirin for now.  A few of these a day should make your head shrink a little.”  Wilkes shook a pill bottle, making a rattling sound before politely taking his leave.

            Not long after Wilkes left had Ashley made a surprise arrival at his bedside, N’vael following closely behind her. 

            Desmond didn’t know whether to be displeased or nervous.  He could almost feel the bronze’s dislike for him and he�"

            I’m afraid we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday.  He said, his voice shockingly warm.

            “Ever since we’ve heard about what happened, N’vael started to feel guilty about his behavior.”  Ashley explained.

            “You heard?”  Desmond asked.

            “Everyone heard.  News travels around this place quickly.  It’s kind of weird,” she said, sitting on his bedside.  “Do you need anything?”

            “No,” he said, surprised at the offer.  They had only just met and she already acted as if she’s always known him.

            “Well, let me know if you do.”

Author's Note

Leaving for college this month, so these might need to be put on hold until I can get another computer. At least then I would have time to do some more editing.