Chapter 25
DREKKI
He moved through the cavernous cave, his front claws clicking on the hard, black rock, his tail held taut behind him.
The space was dark apart from the faint green illumination, pulsing from within the dull black rock which reflected on his golden scales, turning them as green as his eyes.
Vivid images projected onto the inky surface as he watched them swirl from one bright impression of his kind to another.
He loved it here. He could remember the first time he’d visited the Archive.
He’d been awed by the sights before him and couldn’t understand why his brothers and sister weren’t as awestruck as him.
But they’d been fearful of the Archive. He’d not been.
He’d walked straight inside, unaware that he shouldn’t have done so, or so his brother had chastised him later.
His parents, however, had done no such thing.
His mother had offered him an image of pride, assuring him he’d done what should have been done.
The Archive held all the knowledge of the drekki.
Only a select few were allowed in. Here, they could learn about what happened outside their mountain home, about the drekki that came before, and about the laws which kept them bound to rún-ketill, their mountain home.
These were revealed as stories, played on the black walls, as though memories pulled from the minds of the great ancestors that came before.
Most drekki, however, were not only forbidden from seeing the full extent of the treasures held within the Archive.
They were, as he now knew, unable to pass inside and see the images.
That said, not many of his kind were interested in the Archives, fearing it, rather than seeing it as the means by which their history was preserved.
The drekki lived their lives knowing the Speaker, the Skald Drekki, led them.
They stayed in their mountain home, content with their existence, feeding, tending to their families, and ensuring none ever flew outside rún-ketill.
For them, there was nothing to be gained from going outside the mountain.
He’d always thought the same. Until now.
He hungered to know more. He knew that when he became Speaker even more knowledge of who the drekki were and where they came from would be revealed to him.
He knew it was impossible to know all there was.
But he wanted to know more.
Few drekki had ever met the current Skald Drekki, who they also knew as the Speaker.
In fact, despite being destined to be the next Skald Drekki, the Speaker, he wasn’t even allowed to meet with him.
The two would only be allowed to meet when preparations were being made for the old Speaker’s funeral pyre.
Until then, he had to make do with the occasional message from the Speaker’s servants, a funny species known as the Others. And they never told him very much.
The Others were so different from his kind.
And so small. They scurried around on two legs, as opposed to flying, making use of their arms to carry things, not fly.
They were always covered in layers of furs that came from other creatures in order to keep warm.
They had no scales on their hide. They didn’t feed from the heart of the mountain.
They seemed too fragile to be entrusted to looking after the Speaker, and yet they kept themselves busy maintaining the secretive home of the Speaker and tending to him.
Since being confirmed as the future Speaker, he’d been allowed to lie in the deep, warm pools while above him the flickering images of the Archive played across the rocks.
While he was there, the Others always treated him with deference.
Likewise, he treated them with the courtesy due to their representing the Speaker.
He often found himself wondering about them.
How had they come to be here? Why were they servants to the Speaker of his kind when they were so very different to them?
And why was their existence such a closely guarded secret from the rest of his kind?
He often considered this while he lay back in the heated pools, staring at the shifting images above his head that told the history of his kind.
The soft trickling of the water as it dripped often sent him nodding off to sleep while he bathed.
Sometimes, when his eyes were closed, sudden understanding came to him.
Sometimes he became convinced he could understand the strange sounds the Others made to communicate with each other.
Now he entered the deepest pool of the five in the Archive and lay back, letting the heat still his mind.
Of late, he’d found himself following the softly lit winding passages to the Archives more frequently.
His brothers and sister’s games were increasingly irritating.
As the oldest, he’d always been the one to play with them and make up games and stories, but now he craved peace and quiet.
He needed time to be able to think. Space to consider the secrets contained within the Archives.
No one else in his family possessed the knowledge he did.
As part of his acceptance as the future Speaker, he was forced to keep all he knew secret.
He didn’t like to do so, but neither did he wish to disappoint his parents by losing the position.
They were proud of who he’d one day become.
He focused on the image directly above his head.
It showed one of his kind, a brilliantly blue drekki, gleaming like sapphires in the sun.
He stood before a party of the Others outside his mountain home.
They were tiny compared to his ancestors.
Their clothes were so muted and drab. Their faces looked small and pinched.
He couldn’t tell whether they were pleased to face his ancestor or not.
He could not yet interpret the Others’ facial expressions.
Nor could he understand what they were saying.
He wouldn’t be able to do either until he was the Speaker, or so he assumed.
Still, he admired the blindingly bright colours of the scene as it played.
He felt his eyes begin to close as he relaxed in the warm water.
Moments later, he felt a loud rumbling surrounding him. It was common within rún-ketill. The rocks were talking, or so his parents would tell him. It was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
Yet the force was enough to tip him beneath the water. The wave covered his head. His eyes snapped open in startled surprise. Surging upwards, he emerged, shaking his head and blinking. From nearby there came another loud crash, followed by a low moan.
He gazed towards the heart of rún-ketill in alarm, to where the Speaker lived, but his attention was drawn back to the shivering surface of the pool.
His eyes weren’t very good at looking through the water.
It took him some time to realise something rested at the bottom of the pool.
He was unsure what it was. He pushed off with his back claws and propelled himself with his wings to swiftly swim towards it.
Looking through the water, his head entirely submerged, he was stunned to realise it was one of the Others.
He’d thought himself alone in the Archive room.
Without further thought, he fully submerged himself, using his wings to balance, while he pulled the creature towards him using his back claws.
Like his own kind, he doubted the Other would survive beneath the water.
Upright again, he moved his burden from his back claws to his front ones, lifting the figure high above the water, as he moved on his back, wings supporting him, towards the edge of the pool.
At the side of the pool, he placed the Other down on the rocky surface. Its face looked oddly shaped and was covered in red blood, so unlike his own.
At that moment, another Other ran into the pool room.
It stopped abruptly, staring at him. The wet Other coughed, and the second Other made as if to run towards it but stopped short, remembering his presence.
He immediately backed away. For a moment, he wished he could share his thoughts with them, but he couldn’t.
That was one of the many rules he had to follow.
He could see their thoughts, but he could never share his.
As soon as he was in the centre of the pool, the new arrival ran forward and pulled the wet Other from the room, muttering to itself.
Suddenly, a vision reached him of the current Speaker, trapped and motionless under an enormous jagged piece of rock. Almost immediately, it was replaced by one of him lifting the Other clear of the water. The dry Other must have sent him the images.
He pulled himself from the warm pool and onto the worn-smooth surface, feeling the cool air around him. He shuffled forward, holding his dripping tail high above the ground in order to ensure he didn’t knock anything he shouldn’t.
He hurried towards the tunnel leading from the pools to the home of the Speaker.
He’d never been through it before. It was exclusively for the use of the Speaker.
Now, an urgency drove him onwards. If he had been able to read the Others’ thoughts…
He didn’t want to think what that meant but resolved to satisfy himself all was well.
Even if it was forbidden for him to enter the Speaker’s cavern until he was Speaker.
Unless, of course, he was. But no. He didn’t wish to be Speaker.
Not yet. He couldn’t be. It was impossible.
Warily, he advanced down the long, dark tunnel, which glowed the same dim green as the Archives. Just as he started to wonder if the tunnel would ever end, it opened into another huge cave surrounded by more flickering images of his kind displayed on the walls.
The huge space was lit by a massive piece of green-coloured stone that dominated the centre of the cave.
It cast its light into the deepest recesses of the cavern.
By the glow, he peered around in mounting fear, his calls to the Speaker going unheeded.
A huge, jagged slab of rock had ripped loose from the high ceiling, far above his head. Under it, trapped, was the Speaker.
The Speaker’s eyes were wide and staring. And reflected in them, he saw himself, dripping wet, gazing in horror.
He rushed forward, sending images out reflecting his terror. He needed someone to come. Anyone. Where were the Others? They’d know what to do.
He sent out his images again, adding a bugle call of his own, one that shocked him with the fear echoing through it.
Where were they? Why were there none of his kind here either?
Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Why hadn’t the Others worked together to lift the stone free?
Why hadn’t they communicated the urgent need to free the Speaker?
He hurried forward, trying to send comforting messages to the Speaker, even as he called for help from the Others. But as soon as he was near enough to truly see everything, he understood. The fallen rock had crushed the Speaker’s head. Purple blood oozed over the dark stone floor.
Finally, he saw the Others were there, standing to the far side of the cavern.
They must have a separate entrance, he thought distractedly.
They stood sullen and quiet. Many of them also seemed to be dripping red blood, just as the one he’d rescued from the pool.
He recognised them. They were all here, or so he thought, aside from the one who’d fallen into the pool, and the one who’d dragged them away.
There were four of them. He wanted them to do something, but instead they watched him expectantly.
Were they waiting for him to do something?
To order them about? He didn’t know what to do.
A part of him suddenly worried for his family.
Had the tremor been bad enough to cause a rock fall in the caverns?
But no. It seemed that was no longer his concern.
He gazed at the Speaker, wishing he’d communicate with him, but it was impossible.
The giant green eyes slowly closed, and he dropped his head in sorrow.
The Others continued to watch him. He sensed their interest. They must be waiting for his orders. But he didn’t know what they were. He hadn’t been taught this. He should have been. He wrenched his eyes away from the dead drekki, seeking clarity now he was Speaker, now he was Skald Drekki.
He’d expected something very different to this. Some sort of official ceremony. Some sort of acknowledgement of his new position. But no, a Speaker became Speaker on the death of the previous Speaker.
Still, his training was incomplete. He’d received no teachings, no advice, no words, from the Speaker.
Until now, he hadn’t even known what he looked like, except that he’d possess the same glowing green eyes.
All he knew was that he’d been bequeathed a legacy he knew nothing about.
He should’ve had rotations to learn his role from the current Speaker.
As soon as the Speaker knew his time was coming to an end, he should have allowed him deep within the Archives.
He should have offered advice and guidance.
The fact he hadn’t meant… It could only mean… The Speaker’s death hadn’t been foretold. But how was that possible?
He shook his giant head, confused and fearful.
How was he to guide his kind now?