Silver Dragon Breath - fantasy writings by Syrobe and members.

    From atop a high mountain peak I watch the flickering lights that herald our downfall. The smell of burning flesh and ionized air tickles the back of my throat. My mind wanders back to a time when I was happy. Tears begin to sting at my eyes, and my heart clenched as I watched the distant destruction tearing away at the horizon.
    It takes an effort to turn my back and trot away from our homeland, for what some small part of me knew to be the last time. I swallowed hard and spread my wings then leapt silently into the sky.
    It would not do well for the spirits of my small troop of survivors, to see me, their leader cry...
    Damn it, Damn it!!!
    My kind are supposed to be strong, were not supposed to cry, we morn our losses in silence the same way we bear the burdens of our wisdom and duties.
    One of my inner voices inquires “who, who says this; who thinks this? You? Your followers? Your elders? Your true enemies? Or is it them, those poor misguided fools who have forgotten that you are not their enemy?”
    I try to silence that voice by silently screaming at it. "Shut up! Shut Up! SHUT! UP! Go away, and be quiet! You aren't real! You cant be real! I don't want you to be real!" With that last statement the realization strikes me that I do not have the strength of will to quiet that inner voice, perhaps, it is wiser than I thought; and, perhaps it is right, there is no reason not to cry.
    Kassirith my twin, and only surviving sibling, flew silently beside me I felt a thin tendril of concern from him brush my mind, and it showed in his dark eyes. Bless his heart, for he has never been afraid to express self or to let his emotion show, acts that are taboo to those in our position.
    Amongst our kind knowledge seekers, such as my self, become leaders, judges, and historians. Amid my cast are those who we call truth seers. It is our duty to be dispassionate and aloof, so as to best record events, stories, and lore in an unaltered fashion; but, how, how can I can I remain distant from those I must lead? How can one remain dispassionate and indifferent to a scourge that huddles in the very heart of their den? These are questions whose answers I'd like very much to know.

- 1 -

Part 2

    You know those little inner voices that often prompt one action, well mine were currently at war with one another and it hurt. Dear god, how part of me wanted so badly to scream, howl, and cry; to let go of the sorrow and anguish that had settled in my stomach, The very pain and dejection I could see in the eyes of my companions. Another part of me desired ever so dearly to rush down from the heavens upon those sad little fools below; tearing them to shreds, burning the poor ignorant b******s where they stood.
    Yet another inner voice prompted ‘hurt them, hurt them and their people, the way they hurt yours; Slaughter, maim, kill, drive them in terror, and pain from house and home’ quickly I shoved that voice away. For to take such base vengeance is to show weakness, it is to stoop lower than your enemy. Thus such behavior is beneath the stature of my kind.
    Once again I glance around to look upon the survivors of five clans that fate has brought together. Silently I looked form face to face, placing each with a name, a title, a clan and a classification. It was all a vain effort to take my mind off the pain.
    Oh well.
    First there was a young male with sunset wings, a strongly developed crest and the brightest eyes I had ever seen. My mind managed to dreg up his name Talazar, Talazar Razor Wing, second eldest of Feron The Golden’s first from the Blue Mountain clan, an artesian who joined our flight just last week.
    Next was a female in her prime her colors were every shade of red and gold imaginable her form was rather generic but she was beautiful nonetheless. Her name: Carith Shadow Heart, youngest daughter of Zenneth the Wise. She was from a tribe named Blood Valley, an offshoot of the Shadow Cleft Clan, and if I recalled correctly, she was a tale weaver, a lore master and teacher of the young.
    Following her was Rin Fallenstar, third hatched of Moontooth’s fifth brood. Light of wing and sharp of wit, she was a special class of warrior, of a clan called Black river.
    Darn. I sigh inwardly, this little exercise was supposed to take my mind off of my people’s loss. Instead, it only made me more acutely aware of how much I and everyone else in this mismatched troop had lost; something that only increased the pain, rater than dull it.
    By now it was nearing dusk and from high above I watched as the shadows grew long and began to consume the land. Soon the stars would wink it the sky.
    It is strange. Before we were driven from our homes I had found comfort and peace of mind soaring under the night sky with the starlight gleaming off my hide. Alas, for some bizarre reason even the stars up in the heavens seemed cold, distant, and almost alien, as thought we were flying through a sky that belonged to a world other than our own.

- 2 -

Part 3

    Not even the soft gleam of a moon that hung just above the horizon, low and softly tinted gold seemed as I remembered it.
    As of late it was as though even the dark shadows of night could not stir feelings of reprieve and solstice among our rag tag flight. Heavens above, we were demoralized, cold, hungry, and on the run, all of it for the sake ignorant beings who thought us to be evil, heartless creatures. It was late and it seemed as though we had been running for ages, even the moment on the mountaintop earlier today felt as though it was a scene from another life, another world, maybe even a terrible dream. But we flew on fatigue and exhaustion seemed weigh down our soaring wings and souls.
    I tried to think of something that would cheer me up, a fond memory that always looks bright in the mind’s eye. Maybe I think to much for my own good but at least I was able to recall something that brought a little bit of fond warmth into my heart and a ghost of a smile to my lips.
    It seemed to be a distant memory, from the times when those of our people would greet each other with joyous bellows rather than exhausted welcomes, a time when we gathered for festivals soon after the first misting rain of spring. The warm memories of sweet candies, spirited dancing and music, the wonderful trinkets, blankets and other trade items, that would glimmer before our eyes, tantalizing… I drift lost amid the brightly clad image in my mind. Then there were the feasts; oh, the feasts, the great banquets that ended each day of celebration. Every day of the week long festival there was a the wealth of contests and games in which you might see any one, even the chieftains, compete, the droves of gleeful shrieking children, and the story tellers; who throughout the day would spin tales, speak the histories and could be sometimes be coaxed into telling the tales of other peoples.
    The memories of the festivals lifted my heart just a little, and for a moment the sorrow didn’t sting quite so bad.
    The feelings of warmth didn't last long though, a little corner of my mind reminded me that in years past I’d have been spending my time at the festivities now, enjoying my life and what it had to offer; whereas, now I was doing all I could to preserve the lives of my fellows. "And your own". The voice, I believe it to be my continence now, blithely stated.
    "Damn you! Do you have to do that? I’m trying to not get depressed here!" I thought furiously back at it. This inner conversation was really beginning to get on my nerves. This time though it was right, and that very fact made me feel sick to my stomach. All those sweet memories only made me feel sicker, only this time it was more from hunger than grief. I tried to ignore the pangs of an empty gut, but it protested with a low grumble. That caused Kassirith to give a slight questioning toss of the head in my direction.

- 3 -

Part 4

    I glanced back at my companions; every one of them was worn out from our journey thus far. All were exhausted; some just hid it better than others, to that end some of the youngsters in my flight looked about ready drop. A short ways away I could make out the shimmer of moonlight off water.
    High up in the sky we circled searching to see if there was any sign of our enemies below, searching to catch even the slightest whiff of those who had driven us from our homes, but the lake remained isolated from ever angle. It’s surface still and smooth like a mirror. Still the eagerness to land and partake of rest, however troubled, was strong, even dampened as it was by caution. Wearily we drop down in slow lazy circles the remoteness of this spot becoming more apparent with every passing moment. It looks as though well rest easy tonight.
    I drop towards the surface of the lake, wings pulled back as my body slices through the water, shattering its mirror like appearance as the water rises around me in a great white spray. It is crisp, clean, sweet, and cool as it runs off my hide in a silken caress.
    We would rest well tonight; perhaps if we were fortunate we would be able to stay a couple of days to refresh our worn spirits a bit before moving on. Some time after we had all landed, by twin approached me. For a while he just stood at my side offering silent support as he gathered his words. The silence stretched between us in a gulf that seemed to be an eternity long.
    “You worry for us all, that we may never again know peace or joy; that we may never be able to rebuild the broken bridges between each other; or mend the damage in our relationship with those ignorant beings that drove us from our land. You worry too much. The sun will rise tomorrow.” He looks over at me and the moonlight is caught fro a moment in his dark eyes.
    “I remember hearing once that little can echo across the sands of time. Little save lies, my sister, and you know, the first step to making a lie real is to believe in it, just as the first step to destroying truth is to reject it.” He whispers these words for my ears alone before slipping off into the darkness.
    I sigh yet again; he should be a leader not I, for he is the wiser of the two of us. I close my eyes and quietly mull over his words most particularly ‘the sun will rise tomorrow’ and ‘the first step to making a lie real is to believe in it…’ how true his words were. Despite my sorrow I could not help but smile ever so slightly as I lie down to sleep. Somehow the night was made just a little better by those simple wise words. With one last glance to the heavens, I note that the twinkling of the stars. My smile widens as my spirits are lifted ever so slightly. With yet another sigh, this one wearied but relieved, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

- 4 -

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