The Ember of Life

Chapter 9

Zendrayus idly picked at his teeth with a claw. The White lay sinuously wrapped around the thick branch he had chosen for his perch. From his high position, he could occasionally catch glimpses of Dertharion being escorted through the village. The Green looked to be holding up fairly well. The Plaguehide smiled to himself and shot a glance over his shoulder towards the forest edge - and the desert. Only the slowly waving foliage met his gaze.

Shrugging, Zendrayus returned to watching the village. He had learned patience long ago, and he was not about to lose it now. He had lost too much to let anything else slip by. He was about to close his eyes and reflect, but a sudden movement from the village caught his eye. Dertharion and the Yellow had their heads together and their backs turned to the rest of the village. They stood in a secluded portion of the town, by the back wall.

The White leaned out over his branch, straining his eyes to see what was happening. The Mindhide had something in his claws, and he handed it to the Green. The Plaguehide blinked. What was this? He had not planned for this. Curiosity stole into the depths of his reddish-pink eyes as Dertharion appeared to thank the Yellow, and they parted ways. The rest of the Mindhides spilled out of their houses to bid farewell to the Green, and Dertharion, thanking them for their hospitality, left the village. Once outside, the Poisonhide was clearly searching for Zendrayus, swiveling his head around and scanning the nearby woods.

The Plaguehide remained where he was, calculating. This was an abrupt change from his plans. Whether or not it turned out to be beneficial, it certainly would be interesting. He struggled to his feet and limped to the end of the branch, his joints cracking. Plummeting off, he landed somewhat awkwardly in the loam next to Dertharion, thanks to his ragged wings.

"Rested enough?" Zendrayus asked with his signature sickly smile, his penetrating eyes boring into the Green beneath their shadowed lids.

Dertharion eyed the White. Something about the Plaguehide's expression made him suspicious. "You knew they were Mindhides!!" he accused angrily, but quietly, shooting a glance at the village behind him.

"I did," Zendrayus said calmly.

The Green spluttered in his rage. "You put me up with those manipulators on purpose? You're lucky I came out alive!"

"Oh, I did not realize they tortured you so," Zendrayus said with a fine edge in his voice. "It looked like the whole village turned out to say goodbye."

The Poisonhide stopped seething for a moment. "They did," he admitted.

"It looks like you have gotten the rest and relaxation you needed....along with a trinket or two, perhaps." Zendrayus shot a keen look at Dertharion's satchel.

The Green grabbed his pouch protectively, though as he did so he realized he was only reinforcing the White's words. The Plaguehide's eyes were knowing, and Dertharion cursed mentally. Was that a glimmer of curiosity in their pink depths, however? Relief poured over the Green in a great wave. Of course the Plaguehide did not know what it was that Misery gave him. He simply could not possibly guess. So, he gave the White a defiant look. "Yes, a trinket or two to help me on my journey."

"Then I do not understand your complaints. Mindhides may possess...some unique skills, but they can be just as kind as any dragon," Zendrayus said with a shrug, finally turning his probing eyes off the satchel. "Shall we continue on?"

Dertharion paused. Yes, the Yellows had been surprisingly kind to him. But one good experience did NOT mean he was going to relax his stance on them. In fact, a thousand good experiences would still be unlikely to make him change. He would never trust them. He glowered darkly at the emaciated dragon before him. Same goes for you, Zendrayus.

"Let's go."

The two dragons took off and flapped away. Still many days' travel before they reached Saliss' castle.

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The forest felt very, very good to Ebony. He had grown used to the quiet beauty of their jungle home, and the shade of the forest rejuvenated his sore, sand-covered scales. He sat resting beneath a massive oak. For a moment, it was easy to forget his mission, and it was easy to wonder if the Charred would go back on their decision. Maybe they would let him back in. Then Ebony recalled Obsidian's look of twisted joy - and Jet's look of horrible pain, and he leaped up like he had been bitten. No! Giving in and limping back would be a sign of weakness! Of failure! Of cowardice! He could never do that to Jet! He felt scrabbling against his scales and glanced down at his claws. A few fiery-red ants were darting about on them, their antennae waving madly. Perhaps he WAS being bitten.

At any rate, he thought, shaking the insects off him, I can't give up now. Even if the Charred did let me back in, I would never be able to look them in the eyes again. No, I have to catch Dertharion and undo my failure. He took a running leap into the air.

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Faint torchlight flickered on the polished surface of the stones in the large room. Two dragons stood before a pedestal topped with a glowing, seething, vaguely oval-shaped object.

"An Ember is an extraordinary thing. It gives Chroma powers to the type of dragons it represents, and it can be used to channel stronger Chromas, as long as the user holds it." Saliss shot a cunning look at the dragon next to him. "An Ember makes a clan special. It gives them their Chroma, simply enough, and keeps the clans separate. Which is why cross-breeding between clans is discouraged. Often, the result of such a marriage is an offspring that possesses no Chroma at all. Such marriages are frowned on by all as unnatural, due to the sickness and weakness of the hatchling."

His listener snorted and made no comment.

"Patience, my friend," the regal Blazehide said, his jaws curling into a smile of sorts. He set a claw on the pedestal. "But that is not always how it happens. Very, very rarely, the child possesses the Chromas of both parents. It can breathe out fire and poison, or emotional control and healing! What a gift! What a splendid ability!"

The female dragon by his side sniffed. "Are you done relating the story of my life?" Her scales were a dark red, but patches of royal blue and teal were splotched and splattered all along her body. A jagged scar shaped like a streak of lightning was etched in her cheek. "This is hardly news for me."

Saliss continued to smile, but his eyes were cold. "I am aware, Hurricane. I am just placing some weight upon what I am about to tell you."

Hurricane narrowed her strange, glowing purple eyes suspiciously. "Do make with it soon."

The Blazehide patted her shoulder, but jerked his claw back as her scales shocked him. "You see, you are a rarity, my dear."

"The other 'Hides prefer 'aberration,'" she said, steam rising from her nostrils.

Saliss shrugged his shoulders. "If you would lend your destructive powers to my cause, you will not have to hear the words of the rabble ever again."

"Your promises mean nothing to me. Your hoard is far more fulfilling than they are, in fact."

The Blazehide grimaced in disgust. "Ah, there is that mercenary streak coming out in you, my dear. I suppose you aren't interested in my offer of acceptance and restitution to all hybrids?"

"Not in the slightest," Hurricane replied. She inspected a spotted claw cooly as Saliss gritted his teeth.

The Blazehide only struggled for a moment before he sighed in defeat. "Fine. I shall pay you very well in my service. Provided you do as I say."

"It's a deal," the hybrid agreed. "What do you need me for?" Saliss let his lips curl back into a horrible grin. "My mission for you is...."