Chronicles of Carnezia (Book 3): Rocks and Sand

Chapter 8: Split Decisions

Chapter 8: Split Decisions

It felt like hours since Torrin fell silent. I sat on the sand, the tears had ceased long ago and I was no longer alone. Hydra and Frain were nearby; they too were silent. As one had lay on top of Torrin's snout, I examined the pendant around my neck. It had grown dull as the sun made its way down to the horizon. The gems that formed my pendant sparkled wonderfully in the orange-red light. I knew I could not sit here indefinitely, Torrin deserved more than to be left in the open air. Brushing my hair from my face, I pushed myself onto my feet and walked over to Frain and Hydra. Frain was sat on his back quarters whilst his female companion lay in her usual majestic manner only her head was lower to the ground in grief.

'Carly,' Frain hissed.

I reached my hand up and he dropped his nose to meet it. 'Frain. Hydra. His last words were his wish to be buried,' I informed them both though I had no idea how they would manage.

With a grunt, Hydra lifted her head. 'That... will be difficult,' she confirmed. 'Yet, we shall do so... somehow.'

'How, Hydra?' Frain asked (it was rear for him to use her name).

'In such a place as this, it will have to be by unconventional means. We must dig.' Without another word, she raised to her four legs and went to examine Torrin's body.

'What does she mean by that?' I asked my own dragon.

Frain did not answer immediately but turned to face the east. 'There is something you do not know, Carly. But I shall tell you now. The Yok Hills are not hills at all.' I had wondered how mounds of rock could naturally form in a place covered in lush grass and earth. 'They are burial mounds. That is why they are so large. Elder dragons prefer the more solitary life; after all, we weren't meant to live in colonies of thousands. Dragons can become considerably old and the majority of them visit the Yok Hills and never leave. When they die, they are buried amongst their own peers and their Tamers, passed before or after, are buried with them.'

This explained a lot. Not only about the strange position of the rocks but also the varying sizes of the mounds; also the reason why the old Tamers were so distant from there dragons and why five of the seven no longer had their Tamers. 'And we are in a desert without any rocks anywhere to be seen.'

'Burying him is the only way to give him some dignity. A final resting place.'

'But he will be alone.' Somehow I am sure Torrin would not have minded; after all, he had been without his Tamer for many, many years and he was more of a solitary being than his fellow elders.

'Not entirely.' I left Hydra to start digging (I would have been of little help) and went to wander wherever my feet led me. It was fair to say there was a good reason that I avoided the tunnel and Frain was never too far away. Some might have said I didn't care if I had told them let I cut my mind from the fact it was Torrin who had died but I had to stay calm and collected; I kept telling myself he was just a dragon (some dragon) and not one I had grown rather fond of. It wasn't long after I cut it out completely that I turned to watch Frain. I thought back to when I first found him in the dark stables at the rear of the shop. He was so small, barely bigger than a medium-sized dog and now he was as large as a bungalow with wings that spanned almost his whole length. He spines were razor sharp, his horns had grown in beautiful curves diagonally back across his head. His tail was a muscular balance to the slenderness of his neck. His amethyst eyes glistened in the late sunlight but they had a hardness in them that reflected that of his scales.