Chapter 29
- Morgan -
Flying on a dragon is obviously the most thrilling experience in the world, and much more so when it’s a dragon that loves you and that you love right back.
Of course Astrid told us what it’s like, but I never listened very closely. The full experience is very special.
The first surprise is how alive he feels beneath me.
From the ground, dragons look enormous and almost unreal, like living legends covered in scales.
Up here, with my arms wrapped around Vyrathion's neck and my legs pressed against the warm ridges of his back, every movement reminds me that he isn't some force of nature.
He's a person. A very large, very dangerous person, but still a person.
I can feel the power in every wingbeat. The muscles beneath his scales bunch and flex with effortless strength.
Each stroke of those vast wings sends us climbing higher into the evening sky.
The motion should be violent for something so large, yet it isn't. Vyrathion moves with a grace that makes the impossible seem ordinary.
Wind tears through my hair and streams past my face.
The jungle spreads beneath us in every direction, endless green stretching all the way to the horizon.
Rivers that once seemed enormous now look like silver ribbons winding through the trees.
Hills shrink into wrinkles in the landscape.
The world keeps getting smaller while the sky somehow keeps getting larger.
Then Vyrathion banks and my stomach drops. I laugh before I can stop myself. The sound vanishes into the rushing air.
Warm amusement brushes against my thoughts. You are enjoying this.
"You're flying like a maniac."
I am flying very gently.
The lie is so outrageous that I start laughing again.
Below us, clouds drift across the jungle like islands floating in a green sea.
Vyrathion climbs above them and suddenly the world changes.
The air becomes colder. The sky deepens into a rich blue overhead while the setting sun paints everything around us gold and crimson.
I suppose you want to see your tribe now.
“Just so they know I’m all right,” I tell him. “And to prepare them for the three new girls. And the hundreds of Plood that go along with them. Oh, and to show you off. I want all the cavemen to see you. And me. They all wanted to marry me. Now they can’t.”
Marriage, Vyrathion ponders. Praxigor is married.
“To Astrid, yes. They’re very happy, Astrid says.”
So there is precedent. That’s almost disappointing. I would have liked to be the first.
“The first what”? I ask, while even more butterflies take off in my stomach.
The first dragon to marry an Earth woman.
“Oh, are you getting married?” I ask innocently.
It’s the first time I experience Vyrathion flustered. But… I… you… now, you see… I thought…
I grin. He’s still a dragon, still living in a world where everything goes the way he decides and where he never has to ask anyone for anything. But this particular thing needs a question asked.
“What did you think?”
I thought I would marry you.
“Mhm. Is there someone you should maybe ask first?”
Ask? You mean, for permission? What a curious idea.
“You need to ask at least one other person. Can you guess who?”
Ah. I get it now. I think. Morgan, my love and life. Will you do me the immense joy and honor to become my wife? To marry me and live with me and obey me for as long as we live?
Morgan, my beloved treasure. I have possessed gold, power, and treasures beyond counting. None of them were worthy of the devotion I gave them.
You are.
You are the first thing I have ever desired more than gold, and the only thing I would abandon a hoard to protect.
Will you become my wife?
Will you share my life, my victories, and my burdens?
Will you risk being around a sometimes arrogant dragon, though that arrogance is entirely justified?
Will you allow me the immeasurable joy of calling you mine, as I gladly become yours?
Morgan, my love and light and hoard, will you marry me?
His proposal takes my breath away, to the point where I can only wheeze for a while. Of course a proposal from a dragon can’t be ordinary. It has to be grandiose and, well, perfect. And the telepathic emotion it carries helps, too.
“Yes,” I manage with a voice that barely carries. “Yes, my love. I will marry you.”
Then all is well. Let’s tell everyone.
We fly along for a while, talking about marriage and weddings and such.
After a while, he dives down towards the jungle.
Only now do I spot the Red Rock of the Borok village, and we’re going straight towards it.
Where do we land? That plateau? Or is that your prison?
“Land in the middle, by that painted wall,” I suggest. “So everyone can see. We’re not tiptoeing around anymore.”
I have actually never tiptoed in my life.
I grin through happy tears. “I never thought you had. Do a nice, slow round in the air first.”
He does better, slowly spiraling down from the sky, passing over the Red Rock as I wave to the girls there, then over the many tent camps outside the village wall, then fifty feet over the roofs of the village while he breathes a long, red flame.
The heat from it washes over me and feels like it singes my hair, but I cheer wildly at the incredible display in the setting sun. “That’s my dragoooon!”
Then the dragon sets down right by the totem wall, where the fire is burning and the evening meal is being prepared. The flames make Vyrathion’s golden scales shine and flicker like a fire of its own.
Cavemen come running, swords in hand.
Instead of getting off the dragon, I stand up so they can all see me. “Put your swords back, tribesmen. This is Vyrathion and Morgan.”
They form a ring around us, blades still out.
Then someone comes sauntering - a big, metallic blue shape with a woman holding his hand.
It’s Praxigor, but I ignore him. “Astrid! Hi!” I wave.
She grins right back. “Oh my! Two dragons in one tribe?”
Praxigor holds her back. “Vyrathion. You found gold, then?”
No, Vyrathion tells him. I found something far better. I found a wife. Well, soon a wife.
“Morgan is your hoard?” Praxigor asks, still in his human form.
She is. And you came close to telling me that Astrid is yours. I should have listened better.
Praxigor remains tense. “Perhaps. Will you stay in this village?”
Two dragons in one village would seem like a severe fire hazard, Vyrathion says. Perhaps we’ll find a different place to live. But we do want to get married here. Would that be possible, Shaman Astrid?
“Absolutely,” Astrid says. “Just say when.”
Now, my dragon fiance says into our minds.
“Or in a couple of days,” I hurry to specify, “so that everyone has time to prepare for it.”
What preparations are these? Vyrathion asks.
“Normal wedding preparations, my love,” I tell him. “Actually, two days is not much time. But we both see no reason to delay it.”
Chief Korr’ax comes walking and the crowd of tribesmen splits so he can pass.
“Morgan,” he says calmly. “And this is Vyrathion the dragon?”
“Vyrathion the Wild,” I correct him. “My fiance and future husband.”
“Two dragons in one village,” the chief ponders. “I’m told dragons hate each other and that their fights are associated with great loss of life for anyone nearby.”
This is true, Vyrathion admits. But I shall do my best to refrain from killing Praxigor outright. Until my wedding, at least.
“We will allow no killing in our village, at any time,” Korr’ax says clearly. “We will go to any length to stop it.”
“I’ll keep him calm,” I promise, not sure how I’d actually go about calming down a furious Vyrathion. “And Astrid and I will keep them separate.”
“Welcome back, Morgan,” Korr’ax says. “We were worried for a while, but Praxigor said you were all right.”
“I was,” I state. “Oh, and there will be three more girls arriving soon. In the company of many Plood. I would ask that they be let in and made members of the Borok tribe. The girls, I mean.”
The nearby tribesmen exchange glances, and smiles spread across faces. They replace the swords in their scabbards and the tension falls.
Praxigor saunters away, but Astrid stays.
I jump off the dragon and hug her. “Sorry I vanished. But I just had to get away.”
“Looks like you had a fine vacation,” she says. “I know the pressure on you was getting high.”
“Did anything happen while I was away? Alba must have given birth?”
Astrid smiles. “Yep, little Elara is our newest member. Excluding Vyrathion. So you found more girls? Praxigor said you mentioned there might be more of them in the jungle.”
More of the girls are descending the stairs from the Red Rock and hurry over.
“Yes, three new ones,” I tell her. “And then maybe two more later. Maybe.”
Suddenly I have my hands full with greeting the other girls, hugging them, weeping with emotion and explaining everything in a way that nobody can possibly make any sense of.
The girls congratulate me, but I’m aware of the impatient dragon, and I have to make our reunion short. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I tell them. “I just need to spend more time with my fiance.”
I climb onto his back. “Ready, my love.”
He beats his mighty wings and we’re airborne.
I like it when you’re ready.
I laugh because everything in the world makes me happy right now. “I’ll always be ready for my husband.”
Lucky husband.
I flatten myself on his back, arms spread out for maximum contact area with my love. “Lucky wife, too.”
Agreed. Anywhere in particular you want to go?
I think about it. “A safe place with no rain and no river. And no jungle, if that’s possible. Maybe an ocean? A beach? Or a lake!”
Ah. A lake with no jungle and no rain. I’ll see what I can do.
We soar higher and fly on into the night, still talking about many things.
When Vyrathion sinks down through the air and finally lands, I’m not sure where we are. But there’s grass and a fragrant air, very different from the jungle. The air is drier and crisper, less heavy.
I swing one leg over him and stand on the grass. “Where is this?”
This is outside the jungle, Vyrathion says. A place I noticed earlier, during my wanderings.
In the light from the blue moon Yrf I spot mountains in the distance, as well as a forest and vast, rolling hills. I swear I hear waves crashing calmly against a coastline.
“Is it far from the village?”
He laughs as he Changes back to human form. “Oh, very far. But we’ll be back tomorrow.”
I go in close and hug him. “The ground here is so soft!”
“Purely a coincidence,” he assures me. “I didn’t pick this place because the ground is suitable for any fun activity we might want to get up to on the ground. Not at all.”
“Vyrathion the Fun,” I tease him. “I know you really liked climbing that tree.”
“I really didn’t,” he says and kisses me tenderly. “But I liked what happened up in it.”
“Okay,” I manage, having to grab him to stay upright. “That works. I wonder if this grass is dry. Shall we check?” I sit down and rub my hands on the grass. The ground has a firm, sponge-like feel to it. “Oh, it is. You picked a perfect place for fun activities.”
I rise from the grass and brush my hands together. “You know, for somebody who claims to be an ancient and terrifying dragon, you spend an awful lot of time planning romantic scenery.”
Vyrathion places a hand against his chest. “Me? I am wounded by this accusation. I chose this location entirely for strategic reasons.”
His expression is so solemn that I almost believe him for half a second.
Almost. I step closer and slide my arms around his waist. The night air feels cool against my skin, but he feels warm. Strong. Familiar. For a moment neither of us speaks. We simply stand together beneath the blue light of Yrf while the distant hills roll away into darkness around us.
The silence isn't awkward. It feels full.
Vyrathion lowers his head and rests his forehead against mine. The bond between us hums softly, carrying contentment, affection, and something deeper that makes my pulse quicken. “My love,” he murmurs, making me shake with the bass notes and sending a pleasant shiver through me.
“And mine,” I answer.
His smile appears slowly, as though he still can't quite believe either title belongs to us. One hand slides to the small of my back and pulls me closer. I rise onto my toes and kiss him. The kiss begins gently, but neither of us seems interested in stopping.
Around us, the world grows very quiet. The alien stars wheel overhead. The grass sways softly in the night breeze. And together we leave every worry, every danger, and every unfinished problem behind for a little while.