The Dragon of Charred Scales

Monuments and Milestones

Jacob

Five Weeks Later

The setting sun cast an orange glow on our creation, a spirit dragon sculpture formed from magic cast on a mass of lava that our Master, Glaeyala son of Huila, brought up from the depths below. Steam still rose from the blackened surface, catching the last of the sun's rays and seemingly catching fire.

"You two did well for your first assignment of this type," said Master, admiring the rough detail we somehow managed to put into this sculpture. It would have looked better if we did not have to wrestle each other into submission while we formed the lava. It would have looked better as well if Oculeera was given the entire responsibility of shaping the rock and I merely provided the magic. As it was, we fought and we took turns, so the result shows.

Closing my eyes, I imagined the buckle holding the bicycle helmet on my head opening, and my magic did what my long claws had difficulty doing. Lubricated by my sweat, the plain black helmet slipped off when my muscles trembled and crashed onto the ground, adding more dirt and scratches to what started the day as a pristine, fresh off the shelf head protector. But it freed me from having to cast or maintain multiple spells at once, something I still need practice with.

Some of my sweat from my head ran down my back, irritating a partially healed cut from earlier in the day. I grit my teeth, trying not to hiss or yelp.

"Normally, when two dragons train for such a spell, they fail the first several times," said Master. "Magical links are some of the hardest things to maintain, and only the more talented spirit dragons truly master it. But all conjurers came by it fairly easily according to research, which I attest to your success today."

With a flick of his paw, Master made the sculpture crumble and sink into the ground, leaving no trace of our efforts to be found by anyone. "You will practice this skill again in a few days. However, the exact methods will differ. I shall not say how, so that you cannot prepare. Have a good evening, Novayar and Oculeera."

Not fatigued or injured like us, Master quickly flew away, leaving us in the invisibility dome that still shielded us. Other dragons would guide us back to our room, but they seem to want to let us rest a bit. And probably to heal first.

I turned to look at Oculeera. She was already surveying the gashes and burns marring her scales. Her joints move slowly, no doubt as sore as mine. Part of me still feels bad when I injure her during training. And I think a part of her hurts when she injures me.

"Do you need help?" I ask her. Though I received more gashes, hers tended to be deeper due to my long claws. And once I accidentally pushed her into the molten mass that we were sculpting. Master healed the worst of that burn, but some of her scales there still had red spots.

"No. You need to heal yourself."

I nodded, wincing in pain as a muscle tensed. Her skill is better than mine. All the better for deeper wounds. And my body hurts a lot.

We spent the next several minutes healing, whispering our healing spells to not tongue-tie the other. I tried to move as little as possible because moving hurt. Flying will hurt worse. But I do not have enough magic left to heal everything, let alone soothe my muscles. They are secondary to preventing infection, according to every Master I have had so far.

One of the dragons maintaining the dome around us, a fortune dragon, approached. "Are you two ready to leave?" she asked.

"Almost," Oculeera muttered.

"Not really," I sigh. I could tap into the Raw Magic around us, but as tired as I am, that could end badly. Supposedly it almost never lashes or Turns when used to heal, but I do not want to test that right now.