Bartholomew watched the changing of the guard: the sun finally setting and the moon rising to take her place. The twilight sky was painted in vibrant shades of yellows, reds, and oranges. The few clouds that could be seen floating in the sky reflecting and giving more depth to the colors than Bartholomew had ever seen. It looked as if the whole sky was on fire, the flames leaping and crackling to consume the clouds as they reached further and further towards the heavens - the pockets of bright yellows giving the feeling of intense heat. With the sun setting, the trees looked black against the flames, like they would be caught up next in the inferno. Nature was giving them a show for them to remember and what memories they would have! Shadow and he stood side by side – his hand still on her neck marveling at the display. The sadness engulfed the pair and mirrored the sky’s fiery flames immersion. The dragon sensed that Bartholomew was unsure of the path that lay before them. The human’s eyes glistened with unshed tears thinking back on his life here in the valley in the shadow of Dragon Mountain under the blazing sky.
He thought of Shadow. The secret he had kept from everyone since he was five and a half. That started a time where everything in his life changed. His father had given him his first bow and taught him how to use it for his fifth birthday. He and his friends would go out and practice together. First they practiced with small game; rabbits, squirrels, pheasants and quail. Oh how his mother could cook a good squirrel stew. His mouth watered in remembrance of that first one when he brought home the meat. After he became proficient with smaller animals, he tried his hand at bigger targets; wild boar. He shot his first deer in the fall of that year. Ronin was surprised with how Bartholomew had taken to the bow. It was a clean kill, in the head so that the hide was unmarked, the arrow flying straight and true. Grown men had a hard time producing the same results, let alone a boy not much taller than a man’s waist.
The deer was not the only event that happened to Bartholomew on that fateful day. He found his dragon, too. In fact, he found it while tracking that same deer. He saw this large egg-shaped object, almost a quarter his size, lying amongst the rocks at that base of the mountain. This is where they use to play king of the mountain and he never noticed it before. This egg would have caught his attention so it made him wonder how it got there nestled in the rocks. In looking at it, he suspected that it was important whatever would hatch from it. Bartholomew would come back when he was alone and carry it up the mountain. He wanted to take it to a cave he once found while exploring on the mountainside. He smiled briefly thinking how many times his mother told him not to go up the mountain by himself and definitely not to go into any of the caves. She said that you never knew WHAT you would find there! If she only knew just how often he had disobeyed her over the last twenty years!
He had placed the egg in a sheltered area in the back of the cave, made a nest of grasses and moss from the side of the mountain, and waited. He even had taken his cloak off to use it to cover the egg, not sure if it needed to stay warm like chickens when hatching their eggs. It was all young Bartholomew could offer at the time. When it hatched several weeks later and Bartholomew saw the creature that emerged from the shell, he was fascinated. He was excited. He was afraid. Yet, deep inside, he knew he could tell no one. He had his very own female baby dragon, found in the shadow of Dragon Mountain and he had to keep it quiet. He knew then and there its name should be Shadow. And, as a new parent, he took care of Shadow. He made all kinds of excuses to spend time in the cave with Shadow. At first days grew into months and then the months into years. He didn’t want to leave Shadow by herself. He was enjoying getting to know his dragon. Shadow was his best friend; if dragons could be thought to have human characteristics. Shadow and Bartholomew were inseparable. Unknown to either of them at the time, it was just as the dragons and their riders were meant to be - inseparable.
From all the stories he had heard and read over the years, dragons were thought to be extinct. Dragon Mountain was once home to a number of dragon families, each cave with its own plateau for take-offs and landings. It was a time when the dragons and villagers lived together, hunted together, fought together – in harmony with each other. Young children grew up hoping to become a dragon rider with the ultimate honor of being in the Dragon Elite Guard. The skies use to be filled with dragons and their riders in various stages of education. It was an age of wonderment and knowledge, fulfilling destinies and dreams. The best riders and dragons were prized assets for aiding those people in other lands who were oppressed and under the rule of evil tyrants.
Alas, the dragons from Dragon Mountain and their riders are all but stories now. Stories written and stashed with the cobwebs of long forgotten times in towers left in ruin. Stories of valor and honor kept in the dark recesses of old men and women who remember the stories from their ancestors’ memories of the glorious Dragon Age. In all the dusty manuscripts that Bartholomew was able to find, it seems that the dragons were all killed during the War of the Dragons; the war between the Dragon Slayers and the Dragon Riders. Since that time, all stories of dragons and riders and slayers ceased, no new tale could be found. He could find no proof of their existence. Except for a few obscure pages tucked in a small journal buried deep in the furthest room in the highest tower which was thought to be the dwelling of a very old and wise wizard long believed dead. Bartholomew thought the manuscript, those few pieces of parchment writings, held the proof he needed: it held the key to understanding. That was the one link he sought. That was the purpose of the quest that Shadow and he would soon begin. He needed to find out if they were the only dragon team left in the world. He needed to find a place for them to fit. He could not stay here at Dragon Mountain living a contented life knowing that he did not try all within his power to find out the purpose of why he had been given the gift of this dragon, his Shadow.
He passed his hand across his brow suddenly weary. If he were to tell people of the true nature of why he was leaving his home and life as he knew it, they would surely try to stop him or think he was afflicted or both. Doubts continued to plague him – his thoughts whirling around in his mind and he couldn’t make them stop. Was he really doing the right thing? He felt in his heart he was. However, he could be putting Shadow’s life AND his in peril. Was this quest really that important to put them both in potential jeopardy? What will he do if he wasn’t successful? What would he do if he was?
The dragon nuzzled her nose in Bartholomew’s neck. Shadow rested her head on her friend’s trying to give him comfort and let him know that, even though she might be a dragon, she still understood the turmoil that was surrounding this man. Shadow knew that what was affecting Bartholomew would also affect her future. She, too, would be leaving her cave, her mountain, her sea. Shadow would soon venture out into an unknown world with her friend, her companion, and her rider. It was no less important for her fulfillment as a dragon than it was for Bartholomew’s as a man. They were a team and each of them complimenting the other. Both of them needed the other to live – to survive. Shadow knew that should anything happen to Bartholomew, then she would be lost and die of a broken heart. It was very rare that a man lived after losing his dragon. It was rarer still that a dragon lived after losing its rider. Shadow sensed this.
As the full moon rose higher in the sky, Shadow nudged Bartholomew in the shoulder. She wanted one more ride in the night sky, along the cliffs of the Vishnu Sea and around Dragon Mountain. She wanted the chance to say good bye, too. Bartholomew looked up into his friend’s large black eyes and knew what they both wanted and, yes, needed to do. He smiled.
“Let’s go, Shadow!”
Shadow lowered her blue body so that Bartholomew could climb on its lower neck, right in front of her wings and smaller front legs. Bartholomew had lost count the number of times they had done this. They were always in tune with each other that they did not need any harness or saddle. Bartholomew squeezed his knees and legs against the side of Shadow’s legs. He stretched his body close to that of his friend’s. He felt the blue leathery dragon scales under his fingers, the double row of soft spikes along Shadow’s long neck that were soft while he flew but knew could harden and be deadly if Shadow was threatened, the silver under belly covered with ribbed scales that started at the chin and traveled the length of her just stopping short of the tip of the tail. When she was ready, Shadow stood on her powerful hind legs, took a few steps to the edge of the plateau, stretched out her massive blue wings, and they rose into the night sky.
Bartholomew always loved riding on Shadow’s back, feeling the powerful wings as they flapped, propelling them through the night sky. The wind rushing to greet him, his hair flying behind him was exhilarating. Shadow’s tail stretched out behind her; her lean, muscular body waiting for any command that her rider might give. Bartholomew leaned even closer into Shadow’s neck, his hands gently holding onto the spikes as they soared up and over Dragon Mountain. Their flight was one they often took: over the mountain and down to the cliffs, soaring along the cliffs until all that was in front of them was the sea, skimming along the water, Shadow’s tail dipping just enough to cause ripples that followed them as they flew, and then rising up gaining altitude until they could touch the clouds.
This was a beautiful night for their last flight at Dragon Mountain. After the earlier fire sky, the moon shone bright, the stars winking at them, the few clouds large and fluffy, and the night quiet except for the sound of the rushing winds cause by Shadow’s great wings. If anyone where to look up in the sky, they would not be able to distinguish the man from his dragon for they were one, harmoniously flying across the heavens on blue wings with silver moonlight. This was the way a dragon and rider should be. Together as one.
The ride came to an end. They flew back across the sea and cliffs and the mountain back to Shadow’s liar. There was a melancholy sweetness as Bartholomew dismounted from his friend’s back. He stood in front of Shadow and put his head along his friend’s snout. Slowly taking his glove off his left hand, he placed his hand it between Shadow’s eyes. They both stood there looking into the others eyes, not moving. This was a ritual for them. They did not know or understand why, just that they had to do it to feel complete, whole, one.
“Shadow, my friend, tomorrow we will leave on our journey. You wait here until nightfall and then come to me. I will be anxiously awaiting your arrival. Be safe. We have a long journey ahead of us with unknown adventures. You will know how to find me.”
They stayed like that for several moments. The dragon and the man, heads close, the man’s hand between the dragon’s eyes. As Bartholomew stepped back, his left hand still gave a soft glow in the darkness of the night. He put the glove back on as he turned and walked away. He had to prepare for his departure. He only had a few hours until sunrise and the first day of their new beginning.
created originally 1 June 2011
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