“Before I sealed the shutters” Japheth slowly opened the interior door again “this bird barged in.” A large, wet raven flew through the doorway and darted into the rafters. It floundered from beam to beam and scattered droplets until it managed to perch on a wide truss near the ceiling.
“Very strange,” Japheth said. “It seems to have forgotten how to fly.”
“Leave it be,” Noah said. “It has been battered by the storm, and it’s exhausted. We can leave birdseed out later.”
Japheth set the bucket down and patted Thigocia’s front leg. “Do you want to see your quarters? They’re not much more than stalls, but we humans have the same accommodations, so we’re not playing favorites with anyone.”
Thigocia jerked her leg back and smirked. This human could learn a lesson or two in manners from his father. “Thank you,” she said. “I would like that.”
As Japheth led Thigocia into the dark chamber, Makaidos followed. “I would also like to see my quarters. I am exhausted from the battles.”
Japheth glanced back. “I wasn’t sure if you would need a separate room for an egg nest, but that can be constructed later.”
“An egg nest?” Makaidos repeated. “Dragons bear their young alive.”
Japheth scratched his head. “I guess I should have known that.”
“Few humans do. We have not produced many offspring since the day of our creation.”
“Anyway,” Japheth continued, “the stall is plenty big for you and Thigocia, even if you have a. . a baby. I don’t know what you call a little dragon.”
Makaidos halted. “We have the same stall?”
Japheth stopped and turned around. “Yes, of course. We thought ”
“My son,” Noah interrupted, walking behind the group. He caught up and draped an arm over Japheth’s shoulder. “Dragons have morals and rituals that are similar to those of humans, and as God’s prophet, I have the authority to join Makaidos and Thigocia in wedlock. We will create their covenant veil immediately.”
Japheth tilted his head at his father. “Covenant veil?”
Noah clasped his hands together. “When two dragons join, they must pass through a spiritual veil that tests their hearts’ willingness to commit to their union forever. If either dragon has a shadow of deception or doubt, whether conscious or not, he or she is unable to pass, and the covenant is not complete.”
“How do you make the veil?” Japheth asked.
Noah patted his son on the back. “You will find out soon enough.”
Makaidos pawed the floor. “I feared this was coming.”
“Feared?” Heat flooded Thigocia’s eyes. “And what is wrong with marrying me?”
“We have known each other since we were younglings,” Makaidos said. “We have played together, fought together, even bled together. We are best friends, not lovers.”
Thigocia thumped her tail and scowled. “As it should be! I would prefer to marry my best friend over some sniveling suitor who fancies flying over romantic vistas. Give me a male like you who would rather fight in a bloody battle any day!”
Makaidos snorted. “Marrying you would be like marrying my little sister!”
Thigocia lifted her head and stared at Makaidos eye to eye, her voice pitching up. “My father married his sister, and I am no crybaby youngling. When we blasted that Watcher in the Valley of ”
Noah laughed so hard he could barely speak. “That’s enough!” He wiped a tear from his eye and draped an arm over each dragon’s neck, grinning like a proud father. “There is no other reasonable option. The existence of the dragon race depends on it. You are to be wed immediately.”
A flicker of light caught Makaidos’s eye. Noah’s son Ham walked by the dragons’ stall with the late-arriving raven perched on his shoulder. A twinge of pain pinched Makaidos’s gut. He winced at the danger signal. Was it real this time?
Months on the ark had dulled his senses. He had no gems for building a bed to produce the conic shroud of light dragons needed to regain their strength. Such a regeneracy dome was crucial for a dragon’s health, as his father had taught the day they first built a dome together. “Some gems give us strength,” Arramos had said, extending a single red stone in his open claws, “but this one gives us identity. It represents your vision, your passion, and your sacrifice, and one day, it will be a door to freedom. Take this rubellite and wear it always. It is the key to our everlasting union as father and son.”
Makaidos lowered his head and flashed his eyebeams at his underbelly. Pressed deep into a gap between his scales, a small red gem reflected his beams, his rubellite, a protective shield placed at his most vulnerable point. Even after all his battles, even after all those long days and nights on the ark, the rubellite stayed with him, reminding him of his father’s gift to all his progeny. Thigocia, of course, had one, too. All the dragons of old would find a rubellite for each son or daughter, a dragon symbol for all generations.
He raised his head again, and a dull pain throbbed from ear to ear. With only the glow of a dozen lanterns swinging from the rafters, darkness had sapped him dry. The rain had eased several months ago, so he had hoped for a quick end to the tedious sea voyage, but it was not to be. With the ark’s lower hull wedged in the peaks of an underwater mountain range, they had to withstand the constant rocking of waves splashing against the sides.
Makaidos kept his eye on Ham as he disappeared down the ladder toward the second level. It hadn’t taken long to learn that Ham’s brothers considered him a scoundrel. He performed his chores adequately, but there was something not quite right about him. Even as he obeyed Noah, his eyes seemed to defy every word.
Makaidos rose slowly to his feet, hoping not to awaken Thigocia. She lay near the back of the stall on a deep bed of clean straw, her head tucked under a wing. Since he kept his own pile of straw near the front, he was able to slip through the open door without a sound.
From the corridor, he glanced back at her. Thigocia’s wing had moved, uncovering her noble brow and graceful snout. Makaidos couldn’t help but stare. He had never really noticed before how beautiful she was. She had been a playmate as a youngling and a fellow warrior in recent years, but he had never noticed anything beyond her ability to spin a one-eighty at top speed or to scorch a Naphil with one breath. Now she looked. . well. . lovely. His gaze wandered to the space between her bed of straw and his own. He sighed quietly and followed Ham’s path down the corridor.
The ark’s frame croaked a dirge of grunts, creaks, and moans from the weakened planks, masking Makaidos’s heavy steps. He passed the sleeping human families, Noah and his wife hand in hand on a pile of straw, Japheth and his wife in a smaller stall next to his father’s, then Ham’s wife sleeping next to a swaddled newborn baby Canaan, they had named him. The last stall, Shem’s, was empty. It was his turn to patrol the animal decks, and his wife always went with him. But why would Ham be up so early in the morning when he didn’t have to be?
When Makaidos reached the ladder that led to the lower level, he peered down, stretching his neck as far as he could. Below, a flickering lantern revealed Ham sitting on the floor next to a birdcage. Shem and his wife were nowhere in sight, probably on the lowest deck, the level for large mammals and non-sentient reptiles.
As the raven on Ham’s shoulder pecked at a heap of seeds in his palm, he spoke to it in a low tone. “So what is your plan?”
The raven croaked into Ham’s ear, but too quietly for Makaidos to distinguish any words.
“The air vents are too small for you to escape,” Ham said. “Even after the flood subsides, Father probably won’t let any birds go until he is sure they are healthy and mating.”
Again, the raven answered in an indecipherable voice.
“Yes,” Ham replied. “My father has already spoken about that. We will need a land scout soon.”
The bird spoke again, this time loud enough for Makaidos to hear its squawking words. “Send me.”