The Final Storm (Part 3)

Tortured

Countless miles away, the dragon was making sure nobody was having any sleep that night. He was dangerously claustrophobic- the cage was making him go almost insane in his desire to be free. He bit and clawed at the bars, threw all two hundred and forty pounds of himself at the sides of the gibbet, rocking it to and fro before banging it against the castle wall. CRASH BANG BANG! And the whole time he was making the most inhuman noises, screeching roars and menacing growls from deep in his throat.

He stopped roaring to retch like a cat, trying to blow fire. The small fire in his belly was not enough to support even a miniscule stream of flame and he eventually gave up. Frustrated to the breaking point, he renewed his efforts to bend or break the bars, grunting in exertion as his strength was pushed to the limits. “Argh!” he growled as his hands slipped and he cut himself on a rusty nail. He snapped it back, watching it bleed before the skin closed up and it felt good as new.

Then he stumbled shakily back to his weary legs to try again. He was not going to stay in this cage. He was going to break this thing like a toothpick, then go and rescue his Rider. Then they would escape. Somehow. He just knew it. BANG! His body was rattled as he threw himself doggedly at the cage wall. He shook his head as his vision grew fuzzy. Bang! The cage creaked as it rocked some more. Jaydon roared as he grabbed two bars with his hands and wrenched them apart with all his might. Black spots, then red flashed across his eyesight. Then his tension released and he slumped back against the curved walls. He looked at his hands. They were red, lined with dark lines from the bars. “I’m… I’m tired,” he said hollowly, the words foreign in his mouth.

Outside, it started to rain. Against the wind dragon’s bidding, a fierce wind racked  the city, blowing the rain in sheets of icy cold droplets. They sprayed the dragon in the back, streaming down his hair and face as he lost himself into the shadows, too tired to even dream.

            Poke, poke poke. Some bored kids laughed as they poked the caged prisoner. Their mothers were in the market, talking and buying, and the little group had been forced to tag along. Charles, a native Vulnarian with jet black hair, had volunteered to go and poke ‘that big guy in the cage’. Naturally, being boys, they picked up a couple sticks to do just that. Now they giggled and laughed as the prisoner’s back flinched under the pointy sticks.

“Hey, check this out!” Charles said, pointing with his stick, “Look at his tattoo! Isn’t it cool? It looks like it’s moving!” He poked the stick right in the center of the swirly tattoo.

“RAWRRRGH!” the man roared, spinning as fast as lightning to pounce on the boys.

They screamed and fell backwards, butts in the dirt as the man’s face met steel. Even so, it was twisted into such an animal-like expression that it scared the stuffing out of the kids and they gave strangled cries before stumbling to their feet and staggering to their mothers, leaving dust in their wake.

Jaydon watched them leave, his hands curled around the bars. “I am something to be respected,” he whispered to himself, “Not poked. How dare they?” He started to stand, but hit his head on the roof. He hissed and rubbed his head, for the first time in his life wishing that he was shorter. Automatically he thought two things; where was his Rider and what was for breakfast. Rider? He called.

Jaydon? Are you okay? Ralem’s reply came, seeming to come from far away.

Jaydon smiled so big that he showed all his teeth. He hadn’t heard from his Rider all night! Rider- I’m not fine, but how are you? Where are you?

Ralem’s voice sounded a little strange. I can’t say. But Jaydon- please don’t try to kill yourself trying to get out of there. And don’t try to talk to me, okay? Don’t try to figure out where I am. Just… pray, okay?