Hatching and Darkness...
Sendarriel slumbers peacefully until a sickening crack rings out through the chambers of the caves of Riftdale. He jumps to his feet, startled and taken quite aback by the sudden noise. He clutches the egg on which he was resting and tries to keep it safe from whatever had made the noise. Suddenly, he notices that the egg is shaking. The noise had come from the object in his arms. He releases it and the egg splits in half, the sides crumbling into dust as they ebb from the previous center of the egg.
Stepping back, Sendar sees a shape in the darkness of the caverns. Suddenly, it moves, and Sendar jumps back in a sort of fear of it. He recovers his nerve and walks towards it, his breath heavy in the thin air. "Hello, little one. Welcome to the world," he states as calmly and kindly as possible. He smiles and pats it on the head. "What do you think, eh girl?"
*I'm a boy,* a thought rings out through the still air of the cavern. *And my name is Khajag.* The voice is indignant and seems hurt as the hatchling turns away from the hand on its head. The little white dragon pads off through the cavern towards the entrance portal. He had made the journey to there hundreds of times as an egg, it makes sense that he would know where to find it.
Sendar sighs. "Figures," he mutters and sets off through the caves after Khajag. As he walks, he muses that Khajag is an apt name for the little dragon. In the ancient languages, it meant "blue eyed," after all. Coming out of the caverns, Sendar nearly trips over Khajag. He gains his balance, however, and leans against the trunk or a nearby tree.
*So those are the Spectral Runes,* Khajag remarks, staring up at the sky. *They're not at all like I had expected. They're beautiful and glorious and so far away.*
"They're stars and stardust. Nothing more, nothing less."
*Well aren't you a killjoy?*
"I tend to pride myself in that."
Khajag glances up at Sendar and rolls his azure eyes. He sighs, a musical lilt in his voice suddenly. *And these trees. I thought you said trees are green-leaved?*
"All places but here, they are. I told you once why the leaves are the hues of autumn."
*I know. The seasons had formed Riftdale and in it they still remain in harmony.*
Sendar nods. "So you were listening all that time in your egg, eh?"
Khajag seems to shrug. He examines a tree and leans against it, digging his talons into its bark. He flexes himself to the ground and watches the bark peel away to reveal the flesh of the trunk. He blinks at the tree and then walks away and to the Night Jewel Pool.
"Um, Khajag, I uh... I wouldn't go too close to that. I doubt me you can swim and all that," Sendarriel cautions.
Khajag merely blinks down into the water of the pool. *It's not water,* he states crisply, the musical lilt returning to his voice.
"Yes it is. I rescued your egg from that water once and came out dripping wet!"
*It's not water. It's a gate.*
"To what, pray tell?"
*A large mass of sheep.* Khajag glares at Sendar and then resumes looking at the pool. *To what do you think it's a gate?*
Sendar rolls his eyes this time. "It's not a gate."
*You'll see. One day I'll show it to you.*
"Why not now?"
*The sun rises. You'll get burned.* With that, Khajag pads silently back into the caverns. Sendar can't help but feel that the nights are quite short in Riftdale for a reason. Sighing, the elf follows the hatchling who seems to know a bit too much for his own good.
"Are you certain I'll get burned, Khajag?" Sendar calls after the little dragon as he navigates the labyrinthine caverns to find where he usually slumbers. "After all, if it's not water, then perhaps the curse isn't real." he sighs again, getting annoyed that Khajag does not answer him. When he reaches his resting chamber, a hint of whit disappearin into the shadows explains why. "Are you listening to me?"
*More like waiting for you to say something important. WHat is down this corridor?*
"A painful death for curious dragons."
*Ha ha. What's down here, truly?*
"I already told you."
In a flash of white, Khajag is upon Sendar quite literally. He had leapt from his previous position, tackled the elf at the chest, and clutched him about the shoulders with his talons. He digs his claws into Sendar's shoulders, drawing a bit of blood as he pierces at least one minor artery. Growling, Khajag glares menacingly at Sendar.
*Sendarriel, trust me. It would behoove you greatly if you would stop messing with me and answer me straight,* the hatchling snarls.
Sendar contemplates this for a moment while wondering how the little dragon could hold such strength. Before he can respond, however, his difficulty breathing comes to the attention of Khajag. The hatchling leaps from Sednar's chest and nuzzles the elf's ear.
*I'm so sorry!* Khajag exclaims, concern strangling his voice. *Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I? I... I'd forgotten myself. Forgive me, Sendar.*
"O-of course," Sendar gasps, pulling himself to a squat. He catches his breath just before touching his shoulders. He pulls his fingertips away from them and feels the hot roses of blood falling from his body. More than a minor artery had been ruptured. Readying himself for the pain, the elf probes the wounds to their depths. "The worst one is as deep as the length of half mylongest finger. Y-you have g-good claws, Khajag," he says, his voice unsteady and his breath shuddering. He sees Khajag turn away, his eyes downcast, before everything goes black.
*Sendarriel!* Khajag cries, nudging the body of the elf. *Sendar! Awake! Please!* He glances about frantically, as if he expects the cure for the red pools forming ever-so-slowly at his bondmate's back will pop out from the dark lonliness of the caves.
Khajag forces himself to calm down. In the deafening silence, he realizes that he needs something to clean the wounds, to heal the wounds, and to patch the wounds. *Water, glarewart, and common dirt,* he decides as he scurries through the caverns to the entracne. THe sun has indeed begun to rise, but the waters of the Night Jewel Pool are untouched.
*It is both water and a gate,* he realizes in a startling revelation, *but the gate is locked. That is good, for I need the water.* Khajag knows that all of Riftdale is littered with hotsprings, but he knows naught of their locations and fears losing his way. Also, Sendar spake more than once on the importance of cleaning wounds with the coolest, cleanest water possible. Hot, sulphuric water would only worsen Sendar's state. Thus, crouching at the pool, Khajag sips up as much water as he can without swallowing any. He then hurries back to Sendar as quickly as possible.
Khajag opens his mouth and drops half the water on Sendar's left shoulder and half on his right. Suddenly, a thought strikes the little dragon. What if he is dead? To ascertain Sendar's life, Khajag leans his head upon the elf's chest. Sighing with relief when the chest rises and falls faintly, Khajag hurries out to gather glarwart.
Glarewart is a lovely flower, if it is overlooked that it blooms only in the daylight, and the petals are the parts of the flowers that are used to heal. The foliage is an attractive and eye-pleasing vermillion in hue. The blossoms are colored like a mild saffron. They feel like crushed velvet and remind many travellers of a glorious bright spring day, the sort of which will never be seen around Riftdale. Naturally, glarewart grows only about the Night Jewel Pool and is native only in Riftdale. Anywhere else in the world has too many unstable weather patterns.
Khajag waits by the edge of the Night Jewel Pool until that time of the morning when the day will finally touch its water. At that moment, the glare from the water is so bright that it's reflections on the velvety petals of the flowers actually produce a blinding flash, for only a moment. After that moment, Khajag braves the sunlight, clips the stalk of a flower near the ground in his jaws, and scurries back to Sendar and the caves.
Working quickly, Khajag brushes the stamen and pollen of the glarewart on Sendar's wounds. He does so by holding the stamen in his mouth and inserting them into the holes he caused. He then runs to the entrance to the caverns and scratches at the ground, brushing away the grass and small lichenous plant matter there. He digs up dirt and runs with it in his mouth back to where Sendar lies. He rolls some of the dirt in the blood that is still wet and turns it into mud. He then plugs each of the elf's wounds with the muddy substance and watches.
For three weeks, Khajag sits by Sendar's side, rarely eating, trying his best to force-feed and force-water the elf. Finally, on the first day of the fourth week, Khajag notes that Sendar is about to awaken. He runs to his side and curls up and falls asleep next to his friend. He is glad he is alive.