10
“ W hat better way to learn than to see for yourselves?” Gaspare crooked an arm in invitation.
Bay and my mother were stunned silent. They looked amusingly similar with mouths agape and green eyes flickering wildly to take it all in.
His offer was tempting, but I couldn't think past my concern for Ewan, and certainly not to go exploring.
“I'd really like to go back to Thayer and check on Ewan," I told Gaspare. “There was so much blood.”
“He’s fine. Just scratches.” Gaspare waved away my concerns.
“Just to let him know we're all right,” I pressed.
“You can't go anywhere near that mob right now. No, you'd better lay low for now." Gaspare shook his head with finality.
"You're probably right," I admitted. "Will you look in on him, then? Make sure he wasn't hurt too badly and let him know I'm okay?"
Gaspare lifted his head slightly, which I took as a begrudged yes. "Shall we?" he asked.
“Ah, okay. Mom? Bay? You wanna go see?”
“I…I…” Bay couldn’t form a complete sentence—the first time I ever recalled that particular difficulty in her—and my mother could only nod her head dumbly.
Together, we traced once more. This time inside the caldera, to an obscure inlet of a lake. From the new vantage, we could better see the houses, which were simple in design but bright and clean. Everything was tidy, lovely. Most had gardens, and docks led onto the lake or toward covered gazebos.
“Where is this?” Mother asked. “Who are these people?” She took in a shaky breath. “There’s magic here. I can feel it.”
“Yes,” Gaspare agreed. “There is much magic here. Magic…and dragons.”
Three sets of eyes flew to Gaspare’s face to determine his meaning.
He timed it perfectly. The very moment he said ‘dragons,’ a dozen winged beasts vaulted into the air from a nearby bank of rocks.
“They gather here each night at 9 o’clock. One last moonlit flight before turning in for the night. Helps them relax, they say. I myself prefer a good jog, but whatever sizzles your bacon, right?”
My heart stopped in my chest. “Dragons?” I said, not trusting my eyes. “There are dragons here?”
“We’re not the last?” Bay croaked. She raised her head, and her spine—her entire being—followed. She discarded the weight of the world like a lead cape. “We’re not the last,” she repeated. It wasn’t a question.
“Who? You still haven’t said who.” My mother’s breathing came hard, nearly frantic, and I moved closer to her for support.
“It’s a very long stor—” The three of us interrupted Gaspare in unison, each voicing our objection to skipping over details. We’d have answers, by God. We needed answers, lengthy or not.
“All right, ladies. All right. I’ll start from the beginning.”
There was a wooden bench tucked into tall, wheat-like grass and I took a seat, beyond ready to hear Gaspare’s tale. I patted the bench beside me, but my mother and Bay declined. They stood, shifting nervously from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing arms, brimming with nervous energy.
“As you know,” Gaspare began, “I’ve been prime minister for a very long time. Centuries ago, when Brandubh began collecting dragons and enslaving them for use in what would eventually become the Steward Massacre, many of my associates—my friends—were your kind. It became clear very quickly the threat they faced. Many fought back; fought fiercely against him. All too soon, they realized they had no real defense against Brandubh. Time after time their friends and loved ones lost the battle to him. So we formed a plan to get them out of danger.
“A few very close friends and I had been working to prepare this place, and succeeded in keeping it a secret. I knew Pearl from my childhood. It was secluded, uninhibited, hidden. Pearl seemed perfect for our clandestine plan. Fated even. We proceeded to temporarily relocate anyone of dragon descent who’d agree to come. And later, we
“ W hat better way to learn than to see for yourselves?” Gaspare crooked an arm in invitation.
Bay and my mother were stunned silent. They looked amusingly similar with mouths agape and green eyes flickering wildly to take it all in.
His offer was tempting, but I couldn't think past my concern for Ewan, and certainly not to go exploring.
“I'd really like to go back to Thayer and check on Ewan," I told Gaspare. “There was so much blood.”
“He’s fine. Just scratches.” Gaspare waved away my concerns.
“Just to let him know we're all right,” I pressed.
“You can't go anywhere near that mob right now. No, you'd better lay low for now." Gaspare shook his head with finality.
"You're probably right," I admitted. "Will you look in on him, then? Make sure he wasn't hurt too badly and let him know I'm okay?"
Gaspare lifted his head slightly, which I took as a begrudged yes. "Shall we?" he asked.
“Ah, okay. Mom? Bay? You wanna go see?”
“I…I…” Bay couldn’t form a complete sentence—the first time I ever recalled that particular difficulty in her—and my mother could only nod her head dumbly.
Together, we traced once more. This time inside the caldera, to an obscure inlet of a lake. From the new vantage, we could better see the houses, which were simple in design but bright and clean. Everything was tidy, lovely. Most had gardens, and docks led onto the lake or toward covered gazebos.
“Where is this?” Mother asked. “Who are these people?” She took in a shaky breath. “There’s magic here. I can feel it.”
“Yes,” Gaspare agreed. “There is much magic here. Magic…and dragons.”
Three sets of eyes flew to Gaspare’s face to determine his meaning.
He timed it perfectly. The very moment he said ‘dragons,’ a dozen winged beasts vaulted into the air from a nearby bank of rocks.
“They gather here each night at 9 o’clock. One last moonlit flight before turning in for the night. Helps them relax, they say. I myself prefer a good jog, but whatever sizzles your bacon, right?”
My heart stopped in my chest. “Dragons?” I said, not trusting my eyes. “There are dragons here?”
“We’re not the last?” Bay croaked. She raised her head, and her spine—her entire being—followed. She discarded the weight of the world like a lead cape. “We’re not the last,” she repeated. It wasn’t a question.
“Who? You still haven’t said who.” My mother’s breathing came hard, nearly frantic, and I moved closer to her for support.
“It’s a very long stor—” The three of us interrupted Gaspare in unison, each voicing our objection to skipping over details. We’d have answers, by God. We needed answers, lengthy or not.
“All right, ladies. All right. I’ll start from the beginning.”
There was a wooden bench tucked into tall, wheat-like grass and I took a seat, beyond ready to hear Gaspare’s tale. I patted the bench beside me, but my mother and Bay declined. They stood, shifting nervously from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing arms, brimming with nervous energy.
“As you know,” Gaspare began, “I’ve been prime minister for a very long time. Centuries ago, when Brandubh began collecting dragons and enslaving them for use in what would eventually become the Steward Massacre, many of my associates—my friends—were your kind. It became clear very quickly the threat they faced. Many fought back; fought fiercely against him. All too soon, they realized they had no real defense against Brandubh. Time after time their friends and loved ones lost the battle to him. So we formed a plan to get them out of danger.
“A few very close friends and I had been working to prepare this place, and succeeded in keeping it a secret. I knew Pearl from my childhood. It was secluded, uninhibited, hidden. Pearl seemed perfect for our clandestine plan. Fated even. We proceeded to temporarily relocate anyone of dragon descent who’d agree to come. And later, we
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