Gareth’s eyes automatically tracked the arc of the black dot. It landed four or five paces away, in some green grass. He stepped nearer to the landing spot and found a few green blades shriveling and turning a deadly shade of black. Looking up at the sky again, the red dragon was gone.
“How did you know it was up there when you were asleep in your bag? Were you warning me?”
The dragon’s head turned at his voice, and the red eyes examined Gareth. It slowly pulled its head back into the bag as if detecting disapproval.
“You knew about it before I did. You saw it in the sky, but how? You were inside your bag, last I looked.”
There was no reply. The incident gave Gareth food for thought as he trudged down the path. Twice he’d felt the odd sensation of dizziness followed by a shift in his vision as if a shift in his point of view. It might be exhaustion or lack of food or water. Maybe the local water was making him sick? But he didn’t think so.
While reviewing what had happened, he imagined an experience of a sort of shared sight with the dragon, Gareth seeing what it did. The concept was completely new to him, and he wanted to think more about the idea. He paused near the top of a rise and turned a full circle, examining the lay of the land. More rolling hills lay ahead on the path, with a ridge of snow-capped mountains far beyond. The land appeared flatter to his left, where the river flowed down a wide valley. Off to his right heavy forest obscured his vision. No sign of a town or city appeared anywhere.
Gareth sat in the grass to rest and covered his face with his hands. His head ached with tension and dozens of unanswered questions. Tom, the egg, the dragon, the teachers, the Brotherhood, the bounty hunters. Too many things to think about at once. Before following a single thought to a conclusion, another sidetracked him. Back in Dun Mare life had been easier. Maybe I should have stayed there like Faring said.
The dragon slipped out of the bag and explored the surrounding area, sniffing and looking at all things, as if each item might be a potential meal. Gareth watched it, allowing the antics of the chick amuse and distract him. When a yellow flower swayed on a breeze, the dragon snapped its jaws to grab it and chewed before spitting the flower out. A few petals and specks of yellow pollen remained on the evil looking face. Gareth smiled at the comical expression it created, feeling somewhat better.
However, the thought of the dragon face being “evil” triggered the truth. The animal was a vicious killer of anything edible, and in some ways, not. In time, it would attack and eat anything smaller than itself. No, that was not its limitation. The goat it had attacked was ten times its size and the dragon hadn’t hesitated to make a meal of it. Black and fearsome appearing, it was all ridges, points, claws, teeth, and barbs. Nothing to like. While it normally moved deliberately, the dragon was capable of incredibly fast speeds for short distances.
Who in their right mind would purchase such a mean, ornery, and dangerous beast? The army purchased eggs. Why? For making war on others with the dragons after they hatched and trained? Dragons fighting dragons in the sky. Doing what came naturally to them. The king’s army seemed the only potential buyer, and even it had now aligned themselves against Gareth if his experiences on the road were any indication.
The word ‘beast’ is a good one for describing the dragon. Baby beast, to be more accurate, but in a short time, the awful dragon would grow. It would destroy and kill at leisure. Nothing could stop it. Did he have any right to feed and care for it? Let it continue to grow into a monster feared by all men? Wouldn’t it be better for all if he killed the dragon and returned to his village and worked on the farm for Odd for the rest of his life?
Would I be happy with that life?
The little dragon pulled to a stop near a fallen log and the only the small head on the end of the neck moved. It twitched and paused, then repeated the action. The dragon searched for food, grabbing an insect from the air as it flew past and searching for more. Then its posture changed, becoming aggressive. It gradually turned in Gareth’s direction and snorting while keeping its eyes looking up into the sky.
Dizziness swept over Gareth again. His vision blurred and when it cleared his eyes looked at the sky behind him, but he hadn’t turned his head. In the vision, he saw himself sitting in the grass, and in the air far behind him, a gray dragon flew. Trying to hold onto the mental image of himself sitting there, he opened his mouth wide and made a face. In the vision of his mind, he saw himself do the same thing. He stuck his tongue out.
Almost like looking in a mirror.
He saw himself from the vantage of the little dragon’s eyes.
The strange sensation came again, and he was looking at the baby dragon, as normal. He’d never heard of anything similar happening. Did the dragon somehow touch Gareth’s mind and allow it to see the same things that it saw? Did it only do it when danger was near?
The questions tumbled over each other. Before determining an answer, another question came to mind. He told himself to just look at the facts. Ask questions later.
The small dragon acted upset every time it saw another dragon. It hated other dragons, maybe sensing their hate for blacks. Maybe other colored dragons didn’t have the ability to sense blacks. Otherwise, they would have reacted to him and attacked. Or, being a chick, maybe it was too young to be sensed by others. If so, when would they sense him and attack? A day? Week? Year?
Before Gareth shifted his gaze to his rear, he knew what he’d see. The gray dragon disappearing above a far hilltop. Gareth turned to his dragon again. If the dragon could send pictures to his mind, could he send pictures to it? If possible, how could he test that the dragon “heard” and “understood”?
“Dragon, move closer to me,” he ordered within his mind, no sound passing his lips. He projected the image of the dragon moving closer. Nothing happened for several long breaths. The dragon tilted his head to the left, then the right, looking confused. It took two tentative steps in Gareth’s direction.
The action may have been a coincidence. He projected his thoughts again, picturing the dragon leaping onto a near log. Nothing happened at first. Gareth subvocalized, “Jump onto that log.”
The dragon leaped onto the log looking expectantly from the top of it at him as if seeking approval. Then it spun and raised its head to the sky, a low snarl issuing from the tiny mouth.
Gareth’s eyes followed where it looked. Still far off in the sky, the gray dragon flew in the opposite direction it had earlier. Closer. It traveled on a parallel course, only nearer.
His dragon could definitely sense others, at least that much was solved. It also followed his wordless instructions, or so he believed until he found time to test it further. “I need a name for you besides ‘little dragon.' Maybe I’ll have to call you Blackie like the night whispers said. No, that sounds cute, and you’re anything but cute.”
His mind was not concentrating on the name or words as he spoke. They were just words. His thinking roiled around something as simple as giving an animal a name while considering on a deeper level the idea that the dragon obeyed his wordless orders. It also managed to find other dragons before they were seen. Could it be true the dragon could touch his mind? Easy enough to check. He would make time to check for a skill so important. In his mind, careful to allow no sound to pass his lips, he said, “Come here, Blackie.”
The dragon leaped from the log and happily ran a few steps to stand next to his leg. He gave it a pat on the shoulder and watched it cuddle closer. Gareth knelt and scratched the ridged back between the wings with his fingernails. He caught a whiff of stench. Rotting meat. The animal’s bad breath. Looking closer he noticed dried blood caked in some of the creases of the skin again, and bits of mouse-fur clung to the chest. “Next water we come to, you’re getting another bath.”