Wings of Fire: Dragonbite

A Knife Like Memory

Boto awoke with a start, green sunlight streaming through the leaf covered windows. His tumbleweed bedding crunched quietly when he stood. His tail lashed back and forth nervously, though he wasn't yet sure why. Something's not right . . .

  He glanced at Changbai - the Icewing's quiet snores were normal and even now. Boto tried to forget the way his friend had flailed about the night before, muttering quietly about the Darkstalker and clawing at his bedding. It wasn't surprising - to a Sandwing it would be like learning the Chupacabra was real. To a Rainwing.  . . he wasn't sure what Rainwings feared anymore.

Boto shook his head. Maybe he was just worried about Doomsayer. Maybe that was all.

Then, at the edge of perception, he heard voices.

His mind flashed back to the fight a few days ago, when Thrush beat Peregrine bloody.

Then it flashed to a different day, seven months ago in the Sandwing palace:

There was blood on the sand. A thousand throats roared in excitement as the second head rolled to the ground. A fast growing pile of corpses already drew flies. Buzzards flew at the edge of sight, drawn by the gore but not yet brave enough to land.

The dragons wouldn't have noticed them. They were too focused on the next victim. The dark-hooded executioner flared his wings, and his herald -  a small, pale brown dragonet - read from a scroll in a high, squeaky voice: "Dragonbite: for treason, murder, lawlessness, high war crimes: DEATH!" A skinny, dusty dragon was shoved onto the block. His pale yellow scales were bloodless and his dark eyes flicked back and forth, desperately searching for a way out.

There was none.

The executioner grinned as he leveled his heavy, dark steel axe above the dragon's neck. The audience screeched in approval when they saw the faint diamond marks that went halfway down his back. With a sickening  Thwunk!  the dragons head fell to the sand.

All the dragons cheered. They were so absorbed by the macabre show before them that no one noticed as a nearly invisible form shoved it's way through them. A few feet from the edge of the crowd a form appeared and darted into the shadow of a nearby building.

"Poor bloke," a Sandwing chortled from a stall nearby. "Can't stand the sight of blood, can ye?" 

The shadow retched miserably, scales seeming to shift grey-green in the uncertain light. The shopkeeper peered closer, eyeing the pitiful form. "Someone you knew, was it?"

The shadow froze, then slowly turned its thin neck to look at him. The shadow's eyes were like a starless void as it hissed, "Someone I used to be. . ." The shadow's scales solidified for moment, diamond prints sharp as knives clearly visible halfway down it - no his - spine.

"Dragonbite!" The shopkeeper squealed, jumping back. His tail raised threateningly before him. His claws were ready to fight. But . . . The dragon was gone, if he had ever been there. The shopkeeper sagged weakly against the wall, heart racing. When his assistant came back three hours later the only word he could understand was: "Gg-ggg-g-ggh-GHOST!"

Boto blinked once, twice, and focused on the world around him. His talons had taken him through the halls of Jade Mountain Academy by memory when his mind was held captive by the past. He looked at his scales, a pale gold, and frowned uneasily. He had better control than this. A simple memory shouldn't have taken him so deeply.

Even if it's the day I - No! Dragonbite - died. The executioner had found the wrong dragon, thank the moons, but it still felt like too close to the real thing. And to hear a thousand dragons cheering for your death . . . He swallowed and took a deep breath.

I don't like crowds. I don't like crowds, I don't like crowdsidon'tlikecrowdsidon't-

GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, BOTO!

Scales and wings pressed against him as he entered the main entrance to the Academy. The room was packed up to the high stone ceiling as smaller dragons hovered excitedly above the heads of taller dragons.

Boto heard the Headmaster calling for order, but nobody seemed interested in listening.

"Move it you great lumps! I SAID MOVE!" Tsunami shouldered her way past him, blue tail lashing angrily. "WHAT'S THE RUCKUS ALL ABOUT??"

Dozens of voices shouted back answeds, but nothing was clear. The tangle of words only confused matters as dragons tried to dart out of Tsunami's way and then flooded back to fill the gaps. The crowd seemed to be centered around one focal point, as every eye faced inward and out, towards the school's arched entryway.

All of a sudden the crowd fell silent. The only sound was scrape of scales on stone and half-hushed breathing. Boto shivered as a chill rushed down his spine. He forced his scales to stay blue. Dark blue. Dark and deep as a secret and a memory.

Then the voice spoke with a hiss like sharp steel over granite:

"Where is Dragonbite?"