Lightborn

CHAPTER THREE

Chance Encounters

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Waxing gibbous moon,
Sun in the Northern Serpent,
Year 404,
Kreon's Era

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"If incompetence had a face, I am sure it would be yours, but much better maintained at that."

The human chieftain seemed to be more interested in Hesperion's feet than he was in the newborn fissure that had split the clifftop settlement into two.

"Oh stop it, darling, you're making my foreclaws blush," Hess remarked as he picked up a little trinket lying before him and examined it with the tips of his two talons. It was a three-layered necklace made from cowrie shells. His tail swayed as the anxious whispers of the humans suddenly rose.

He looked over his folded wings at the tribe of primates crowding behind him. The tallest of the lot like the chieftain came up to his calves. The ones with the greying hair on their heads and wrinkled skin stood a little closer to the dragon than the others. Behind them were the humans he had fished out of the chasm being tended to by their healers. All eyes seemed to be fixed on the object he twisted and turned between his claws.

The necklace was flung into their midst with a calculated flick of his digits. It landed at an elder's feet with a gentle clink and their murmurs subsided in a flurry of approving hums.

Hess turned to face the chieftain who was now blushing with what he presumed was embarrassment. It stood at odds with his blonde hair and the drab russet of his gryphon fur cloak. Hess almost felt bad for the poor human having to explain himself to a dragon ten times his size in front of his tribe. Then he remembered that this very responsible little ape had slept through an earthquake that nearly killed half their population instead of summoning the dragon whose territory it was.

The human's pitch was grating to the dragon's ears as was his beginner's grasp on the ancient reptilian tongue. Hess had to admit, the human did try his best to imitate a dragon right down to the inflections and the deep growls.

"Forgive, lord. Human should have informed you. Sent bird-orders for building clay from the temple on the One Pointy Headpiece-"

Hess observed the debris of several collapsed human nests caught between the jagged rocks lining its inner walls. Behind the chasm were a few more houses reduced to piles of straw, wood and clay.

He sighed, made a clicking sound and switched over to the human's native tongue.

"No. You will send another falcon and cancel the supply orders from the First Crown. You will make a list of whatever you would be needing to rebuild your settlement first. You will ask your people to prepare themselves to be relocated to Mons Sterne. You will attend to the needs of your people until I get back. Am I clear?"

"Yes, milord," replied the chieftain, his face turning the shade of summer beets as he reverted to his language.

"Oh, and you do not have to prove that you're a blockhead each time I task you with something important, little bird, try to surprise me once in a while."

The chief nodded as the dragon walked past him.

"It is my honour to have been chosen by you to speak the dragon tongue, milord."

"For someone so skilled with his language skills you are failing, I must admit, quite spectacularly at learning it."

With that, the dragon dove off the cliff with tucked wings and unfurled them as he fell, letting the air underneath their patagia carry him forward. The wind rippled through the silver mane scales of his head and neck like the torrents of a waterfall. The sea below welcomed him with a spray of saltwater as he steadied his wings to glide over its surface. Dipping one wing lower than the other, he flew close to the cliff face.