The Dragon of Charred Scales

Trepidation

Jheecu

It is impressive what these two can do together. Not only did they shape a cave for us to hide in, they managed to make it large enough for me in dragon form to stretch out, and yet the roof is secure enough to not collapse. If only that confidence could spill over to the task at hand. Defeat Harogbas. Ideally without dying by his hand. Because we do not know for sure if he really needs Novayar or not.

I still regret asking them to wrestle. I suspect Novayar's training was not focused on defense as much as offense. Regardless, it brought up the reality, in all its ugly glory, that any or all of us could die in a real fight, but him especially. And he has not been the same ever since.

Even Oculeera has developed some doubts about the future. And I do not know how to comfort either of them. How do I tell Novayar that he will be fine when his lack of full training has already reared its head? How do I tell Oculeera not to worry when her closest friend will be the target of a deadly dragon? How do I tell them I can keep them safe if Harogbas could subdue me, without magic, in many of our bouts?

How can I comfort them when I am the reason Novayar is not trained enough?

Because it was when he stormed off, running into the shield bubble, that I realized just what I have deprived him and the rest of my nest. It always annoyed me that they were more human than dragon. I never gave them a chance to be a dragon by ignoring them, not finding them, and then lashing out at them. Not new realizations, not truly, but here is the effect. And with Novayar, it truly matters, not just to me, not just to him, but also to anyone Harogbas targets.

Both lay curled together, Oculeera covering them both with a wing. I sit nearby, open for them to lay against me but not expecting it. They lay together for comfort, not for warmth. It is already too hot in here.

But I also know they know there is little I can do for them. In the past week, since Novayar's outburst, we all have been silent, except for evenings when I try to bounce ideas off them about how to proceed. It would not take much more convincing for either of them to just fly away, to ignore the reason we are here. They would falter, and I believe the prophecy warns of that very thing.

Novayar's eyes opened and locked on me. But he did not say anything. His eyes said enough. He is scared. We are at our destination and are far from prepared.

"Get some sleep," I tell him.

"I can't," he mumbled.

"Try to. You'll need it."

"I know. Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Novayar."

He looked away, and patiently I waited. "When you were my age, were you a good fighter? Did you like fighting?"

"Good? Not as good as I am now. Maybe not good by strength dragon standards. But I could defend myself."

"But I am not a strength dragon."

"No. I know that. You are strong in magic, though."

"And Harogbas could negate that. He could negate the spell I have to cast."

"I'll try to distract him then."

Slowly, the conjurer slipped out from under Oculeera's wing. She did not move; she must already be sound asleep.

"The prophecy details that Oculeera will find someone stronger than her. We always assumed it meant magical strength. But what if it means physical strength? She is a good fighter for what she is, and we stumbled upon you, an even better fighter."