The Final Storm (Part 3)

Iris Mengae

The next day seemed like the longest day ever to Ralem. He waited for Jaydon to contact him all day. Nothing ever came. He got so frustrated that he had to get out of his cramped room. It was when he melted into the bustling crowd, wishing that people would just hurry up that he realized that this was a crowd that he would never fit into again. He would always be the oddball, with his slightly glowing eyes, his over-the-edge energy and strength, his stealth, his way with air, and that shimmering sign on his shoulder blade. He may be 98% human, but the other two percent would set him apart for the rest of his life. If someone knew who he was, even his family, who knew what would happen to him. He self-consciously pulled his hood down lower.

            After a day walking around town, agonizingly slow so he could pass as a human, the sun finally started its descent. He stopped at the Happy Hog Tavern, waiting for the signal from Jaydon. He waited for hours. The Tavern-keeper finally asked him, “Are you waiting for someone?” while he was cleaning out a dirty mug.

            Ralem set down his own mug, “No.”

            He decided to go anyway to his house- If Jaydon was still unconscious then something must be wrong.

He snuck into the back door like always, coasting over the ground two inches so he wouldn’t make the slightest noise. Jaydon was in Ralem’s old room, the one nearest to the kitchen. The only room with a fireplace. As Ralem surveyed the hallway to make sure no one was there, he saw the white glint of Aidan’s face-he had been half-asleep in the doorway, his back to the wall. He woke groggily to Ralem’s glowing stare. Seeing Ralem standing there, a few inches over the ground and wearing the black cloak of death, Aidan’s eyes widened and his mouth opened to deliver a scream to remember.

Ralem took his hood off quickly and settled to the ground, his hands thrust in front of him in a don’t do it! gesture. Aidan blinked before his eyes adjusted and he got up shakily, running to Ralem’s side. His soft footsteps woke the other two and they crept out behind them, exaggeratingly trying to pretend to be spies.

“Uncle Ralem!” Aidan hissed, waving for him to follow. He tiptoed to Ralem’s room and slowly opened the door. Ralem followed cautiously, “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s Jaydon,” Aidan said solemnly, “He’s not doing very well.”

Immediately Ralem was by Jaydon’s side. The dragon was as white as the sheets, his cheeks glinting with yellow. Sweat glistened in the light of the fire and even though he was ridiculously close to the flames he was cold and clammy to the touch. “Jaydon?” Ralem said, his voice choked. Fear clawed at his chest and he forgot to breathe. He cradled Jaydon’s head in his hands, “Jaydon- it’s me. Ralem, your Rider. Please, wake up. Please.” Ralem knew this was really bad. Jaydon was never cold. He never sweat. He looked… dead. “No, no,” Ralem moaned, practically forehead to forehead with the half-dead dragon, “Come on, my little hatchling. Wake up. Wake up for me.”

He sucked in a breath before sinking into the dragon to search for him. He had done this before. He had hoped to never do it again. But now he became lost to the world as he sunk into the dragon’s fevered conscious. He found Jaydon, terribly shook up and weak. He grabbed on to him, pulling him up to the waking world. He was slipping from his grasp. Ralem, you’ve got to let me go. I need… to rest. Shocked, Ralem did so and snapped back to himself with hoarse breaths. “Jaydon, no!” he yelled, shaking Jaydon’s unresponsive head, “No, please! You can’t!”

“He’s not going to wake up,” a new voice spoke up from the dark room. A hunched figure appeared in the gloom, small eyes flickering from the fire, “He’s going to die.”

Ralem turned to the new arrival, shocked that she could sneak up on him. “Who are you?” he said stiffly, wiping his running nose with a hand.

“The healer,” the woman replied, her eyes narrowing.