Chapter 19 Need to Breathe
~ brEN ~
‘Have you returned, Little Flame?’ Akhane sent as I approached the stables after our visit to the Eeyrie. Her voice was strangely high, quavering. As if she were nervous. It was so unlike her, I frowned and picked up my steps.
‘Yes. Akhane, what’s wrong?’
‘I only wish to have you close. My heart is… I am soothed when you’re close, Bren.’
I practically ran the rest of the way, reassuring her the entire walk, stumbling over words to ask what had unsettled her, but she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—pinpoint a cause.
When I reached the stable, she and Kgosi were both there.
He stood close to her until I appeared in the doorway, when she called for me, then hurried to meet me, blowing and inhaling deeply, her nostrils flaring, her snout brushing me from shin to chest as she vocalized in small chirps I didn’t hear from her often.
“Akhane, what’s wrong?”
‘I want to fly—can you fly with me Bren?’
‘Yes, of course. But—’
Akhane snorted and started for the stable door and her behavior was so odd, I didn’t follow. “Akhane, I’ll fly with you—but you have to tell me what’s wrong. I can feel you. Why are you agitated? Did something happen with Kgosi?”
I turned to look at the Primarch, who snorted and ruffled his wings.
“Sorry, Kgosi,” I gulped. “I just—”
Akhane hesitated just inside the door. ‘No, no. Not that, Bren,’ she said, shaking her head like an unhappy dog.
‘My mate is my rock. I am only bothered. You have those days, don’t you?
When the picture seems bleak. There is nothing to be done for it.
But, I find I ache for the skies, and the quiet. And I hoped we could go together.’
A strange, unsettled hum began in my chest. I didn’t think she was lying to me. But I could sense something in her. I looked at Kgosi, but his eyes were on her. He didn’t seem agitated like she was, but she held all his attention.
What was going on?
I looked back and forth between them, then started after Akhane. If she wanted me close, I would just thank God that the Eeyrie visit hadn’t taken as long as we’d scheduled, so I still had a free hour before lunch and my next training session.
She was so impatient—which was unlike her—that when I stopped for her harness at the tack room, she took it in her mouth and carried it outside for me, ruffling her wings when we made it out of the building as if she’d felt the confines of it.
‘Akhane, what—’
‘I just want to fly, Bren. It takes me like this sometimes.’
She dropped the harness in the grass at the edge of the launch hollow, and I got her harnessed as quickly as I could, then mounted. She was moving before I’d even finished strapping in, stepping down the side of the hollow, then gathering herself to launch.
I decided to remain quiet and see what she’d say once we were in the air.
But she didn’t talk to me. I felt her heart lift as we caught the sea-breezes in the sky. Maybe she just wanted to be alone?
It was the first time in weeks that we’d flown just for the fun of it, and I discovered my own heart growing lighter, as if the winds of flight blew away the weight of pressures, and failures, and even the uncertainty of the future.
At one point, as Akhane soared on the air-currents and wheeled, pointing us directly towards the horizon over the sea, I closed my eyes, let my head fall back, and just let my body ride without trying to make her do anything.
Within minutes, my breath was easier, and my head less troubled.
‘This was a good idea, Akhane.’
‘I love flying with you, Bren.’
‘I know. But, there’s obviously something on your mind. Are you afraid you can’t trust me with it?’
‘No, I trust you with anything Bren. I only avoid adding to the burdens we all face. There is nothing new. I am only sad for all of this. This world. Our herd. You… Sometimes I see that speaking those things brings weight, and it is better to give them away. I bring them to the Creator and I am easier. Lighter.’
‘I understand, but, did something happen while I was at the Eeyrie?’
Still flying, Akhane shook her head again. ‘The Eeyrie is a difficult place for all the females, Bren. It is the home of hope for our herd, and yet also empty.’
‘Do you know why?’
Akhane didn’t answer immediately, but I felt her turning the question over in her mind and my heart rose. Had she heard something, or was she aware—
‘Life only comes at the hand of the Creator, Bren. It isn’t a dragon’s choice if she will hatch a babe. But how we carry our hatchlings, how we devote ourselves to the herd… that is our choice.’
I was confused. “What do those choices have to do with the breeding?”
‘I don’t know. But the Eeyrie is a place that weighs heavily on my heart. Knowing you walked it this morning, knowing that we may walk it together one day—but not knowing when. It made my heart ache.
‘I cannot tell you this from the Creator, Bren. It is only a thought I have had, but I wonder, is the limiting of our herd a mercy?’
I frowned. ‘How would it be a mercy?’
Akhane’s ribs expanded under me as if she took a deep breath.
‘If the Creator doesn’t see fit to give us lives to guide, there must be a reason?
’ she sent quietly. And an image flickered in my mind of good men, Furyknights, growing fewer and fewer.
Of dragons searching for men to bond, and not finding them.
‘Akhane… do you mean the dragons or the Furyknights? Who isn’t—’
‘I don’t know, Bren,’ she sent. ‘And so my heart was heavy. But now, I feel more at peace for telling you,’ she said firmly, as if we’d spoken what was important already.
‘And I find myself grateful—again—to have you. It is a heartache for a dragon to wish for the bond, or a mate, and not find them. A hole in our souls.’
My head jerked back. ‘You can want a mate and not find one?’
‘Of course!’ Akhane said, almost laughing. ‘We are creatures, Bren. We can wish for many things we cannot have, or should not. It is only by the Creator’s hand that we find our bonds, just as it is only by His hand that you find food to hunt.’
There was the distinct impression that she shrugged, as if this was simple fact. Which I supposed it was. But I hadn’t thought about it for the dragons. They always seemed so certain of their path—and often aware of things before we were.
‘Akhane, are you keeping secrets from me?’
‘No, Bren. I only withhold from you in wisdom—never in fear, or malice. At times the Creator cautions me. All of us must walk our paths through this life. That is all.’
I knew it was true that the dragons had foresight we didn’t share.
Donavyn had spoken of it often—but also cautioned me not to press my dragon if she chose not to share.
That their wisdom was trustworthy. Yet, while I enjoyed the rest of the flight with Akhane, I found myself slumped when she turned back towards the Keep.
I felt like she carried a weight I didn’t share, and that felt wrong.
But then I remembered a conversation Donavyn and I had after I’d been pinned and led the ranks back to the enemy camp.
Akhane had seemed unsettled that night as well, and when Donavyn and I were finally able to reunite in his chambers, privately, I raised it with him.
“She seems upset, but tells me not to worry. Does she think I can’t handle it? Does she know things about the camp, or—”
“Don’t let it worry you,” he’d said, pulling me into his arms where I sighed and rested on his chest. “At times, Kgosi retreats in his mind—never for long. And never in anger. The dragons are just sensitive,” he said gruffly. “Both to our feelings, and each other’s.”
“But they’re so strong and wise, usually it seems like nothing bothers Akhane. Is this just part of her heat wearing off?”
Donavyn stared at the ceiling and stroked my hair.
“I don’t know, obviously. But, you’re right about them being much stronger than us.
They have to be, Bren. Can you imagine? They don’t only perceive what’s obvious, but also what isn’t.
They are compassionate and loving—and they see us hurting each other, walking towards war, threatening…
They know they’ll likely meet other dragons if we clash.
They feel everything so deeply. But, I’m learning that it takes far more strength to feel pain and endure through it, than to break under it and lash out.
My dragon—and yours—are an example to us in that. ”
I thought about it, holding him tightly. “I’d like to be that kind of strong,” I said after a time.
Donavyn nodded and kissed my head. “Me, as well.”
I pushed up on my elbow to look down on him. “But, you are!”
Donavyn stared deep into my eyes then, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he saw. He stroked my hair back from my face and shook his head. “No, Bren. I’m not.”
I tried to insist—to remind him of all the ways he’d kept it together when I was breaking apart. But he quieted me with kisses, and soon, I couldn’t remember what I’d been upset about.
Because, whether he realized it or not, laying in his arms made me stronger.
And before I slept that night, I prayed the day would come that I’d be able to offer him the same.