Trial and Error

Trial, error, and more than a few bruises revealed a method by which Tara could ascend Sarah’s back. It bore no resemblance to a sack of wheat being shouldered, which pleased Tara and her aching joints considerably. It was a testament to Tara’s persuasive abilities that Sarah agreed to practice her take-offs and landings. “I am no mule or donkey, destined to cart humans about as it pleases them. I have been landing in this exact manner for centuries. It has never failed me before,” said the dragon.

“I do not question your landings, Sarah, but my ability to sit through them,” said Tara. “I have never ridden any beast in my life. You must see I have no seat at all.”

“Yes, I do see that,” said the dragon. “Now that you mention it, I understand your difficulty. I am more than happy to practice on your account.”

Tara was not lying when she said she had “no seat at all”. They practiced until dusk. Tara fell from the dragon on more than one occasion, and Sarah proved slow to alter her technique. Still, by the time the sun set, and the moon rose once more, casting the golden hills sterling, Tara had held her seat on three separate occasions, and Sarah had discovered a means to reach the earth that did not require diving headlong.

“How do you manage?” said the dragon, casting a critical eye upon her flightless companion. Tara walked gingerly.

“I manage,” said Tara. “No really, I am well. Will we go tonight? I am sure you must be eager.”

“Nothing will happen tonight. We will return to the Village, and you will rest,” said the dragon.

“Truly, I can manage,” said Tara.

“Yes, I can see,” said Sarah gravely. Tara attempted to launch herself once more upon Sarah’s withers in the way they had practiced. She failed, sliding down the scaled sides of the great creature before sinking into a most unceremonious heap by one large claw. Sarah said, “You fail to consider, though, that perhaps I am tired. I am not used to such exertion, after all. I have grown soft, living so close to the Village.”

“I am doing well enough, but I understand if you must rest,” said Tara. “Come, let’s go home.”

“Let’s,” said the dragon.

The Village hummed with quiet evening activity, the closing of shops, the final return of stragglers from the fields, the whistle of a solitary engineer, as he attempted to repair the corroding wiring connecting the street lamp at the corner of Market and Main to the Turbines (or so the aged green signs proclaimed it to be) with a handful of clay and a strip of leather. “You were missed today, you and that big beast of yours,” said the engineer. “You will hear of it at dinner.”

“I am sure I shall,” said Tara. She rounded the corner for home.

screw the turbines

Tara stared into those dark, alien eyes for a few more moments. She had always thought, from the first moment she looked into Serryah's eyes that there was something more there. it wasn't like looking at a dog, or the hares the villagers sometimes caught in cages. Of course it wasn't like looking at a person either. For starters, each eye was the size of Tara's head, and the snake-like slits were like pitch-black chasms where only a very daring rock climber would venture to seek a hand-hold. To be honest, Tara had been very afraid the first time she looked in Serryah's eyes, and Tara wasn't afraid of much. It was obvious that Serryah could flatten Tara or any human with a careless twitch, but that was only cause for caution. The intelligence and cunning in her expression was cause for true alarm. Tara had been relieved when Serryah proved friendly, but disappointed when she did not strike up a conversation. So she was surprised now, but also not.

Tara looked back up the hillside towards the village, the last inhabitants of earth, and then back at the looming dragon with its lashing tale.

"Screw the turbines. Let's go get your birthright."

With a roar of raw delight, Serryah started to toss Tara onto her back again. This time Tara was ready for her, and she danced away from the eager claws. "First I think we should go over some riding etiquette!" she yelled up to Serryah. "If we're going on a long journey, I'm going to need to be more comfortable than I was getting here."

Serryah took a step backward and arched her neck. Undeterred, Tara went on, "I mean, if you need me, you'll want me functional when we arrive, so we're going to have to make some kind of arrangement. If you know so much about humankind, haven't you ever had a rider before?"

"No, I never allowed myself to be Found before this," Serryah replied, rather haughtily. This was also, perhaps, part of why she had survived.

"Allowed yourself to be found?"Tara asked, incredulously.

"Yes, well, did you really think you just happened to catch me unawares after keeping all of this" (she swept her nose expressively towards her great bulk, with a little flourish to indicate the spiked end of her long tail) "hidden for hundreds of years?"

"Oh, well, I . ." Tara scuffed her toe in the grass self-consciously. She had rather thought that, yes.

Serryah seemed mollified by Tara's discomfort, so after a moment, Tara ventured to say "All right then, let's see what we can do."

Tara stared at the massive creature before her on the riverbank in shock. "You... I don't..."

"It has long been understood among my kind that conversations with a Finder must begin with silence. An intelligent beast is a useful ally, but a cunning sentient agent with a lifespan measured in millenia is a threat. It is not in our nature to dissemble, Tara, but we have learned."

"But how can you possibly -- it's been weeks!" Tara's eyes rolled about in confusion, seeking something in this quiet valley with which to make sense of what was happening. Finding a dragon in the first place had been shock enough, but to now discover that after weeks with Sar- ...Serryah ...she really knew so little about the dragon. Something Serryah had said suddenly registered. "There are more of you?!"

Serryah huffed sadly. "There...were once many of us, yes. Now I do not know." Her tail flicked in distraction for a moment. "The Overlay was as damaging to our world as it was to yours, of course."

Tara stared at the dragon blankly. She had been born a villager, and knew little of what had come before, though there were sometimes stories at feast days of a time long past when there were great palaces called Seets connected by rivers of stone. Elder Lathe had once in passing claimed that the west crumblequarry was part of such a river. "Overlay?"

Tara's great neck shifted forward and curved back so that Serryah could blink peevishly at her. "Many lifetimes before yours, Tara. Have your people forgotten already? I suppose it does not much matter. This world was once many worlds. I do not know what brought them crashing together, but the result was terrible. The great cities were devastated immediately, of course, and the Parasites removed even the ruins. My kin, most of them at work or asleep in the caves of our homes, were instantly entombed." Thinking of this, Serrya's scales rippled with a shudder that crept visibly along her back.

"I allowed you to Find me, Tara, and so now we are bound to each other. You seek to move the turbines, and there is ample time for that. But when we have finished with this task, I must ask your help in return." Serryah raised a foreclaw and flexed it, then stamped at the ground impatiently. "We did not build the caverns. Those who did were gone long before even the Overlay. We do not remember anything about them, except for the caverns. I need your help to dig a path to the underground, to the places where my people are in the stone. I must find my mother, and I cannot do it alone, hard as I have tried."

Tara struggled to make sense of the conversation, trying desperately to connect what was happening to reality in some way other than succumbing to insanity. After a moment of silence, she settled for taking the conversation at face value. Perhaps if she pretended this was normal and allowed her body to act accordingly a path would appear for her mind to follow. "Your mother is alive?"

Serryah did not move, but her eyes flashed darkly. "My mother is dead. And with her my birthright. It is my birthright I seek to retrieve."

“Sarah! We’re going to be in big trouble!” Tara’s brow furrowed and Serryah continued to play dumb, delicately trying to loose the last bit of turbine fan from her back claw without drawing any further ire from the flightless one.

“I know you can’t help it, but you just have to be more careful. If they figure out what’s been happening to the turbines they’ll take you away from me!” And after a brief pause, the tears came. Nothing overly dramatic, Serryah noticed, but they were genuine sobs, the sobs of someone who truly cares. She could have been found be someone worse, Serryah realized, a little bit of luck goes a long way. And as last dragon on earth, Serryah had had more than her fair share of luck. She lowered her scaley head towards Tara, a token act of remorse. The waterworks came to a slow stop as Tara stroked the head gently.

“There, there. I know you didn’t mean it. They have enough of those stupid turbines anyway, they won’t miss a couple of them. I bet they just made us carry all of them up there because it made them feel important.” Right on cue the sirens from the village began to wail. Serryah, who had just about enough of all this emotion, gripped the back of Tara’s tunic in her mouth and flung the flightless one on her back. Before the first shriek of protest Serryah was winging down the back side of the hill into the misty valley below.

After all of existence flying never got old for Serryah. Perhaps that’s why she was the one survivor, she never hesitated to take to the sky, where she knew no one could catch her Serryah banked sharply to follow the river and felt the weight shift on her back. She had forgot all about Tara, but quickly adjusted her turn to keep her Finder from falling off. Once a dragon is found its soul is bound to the finder, only when Tara chooses to release her will Serryah’s spirit be truly her own.

After an hour she landed on the bank of the great river that had been whittling the valley since before Serryah arrived and let Tara slide off. Serryah had wanted to be found. She knew the village, which is to say all mankind, needed her, and she was lonely. She had played along at first, but now it was time to get some things straight.

“Sar …” But Tara stopped as quick as she started. There was a voice in here head insistent yet beautiful.

“My name is Serryah,” the voice said, “and we have much to talk about.”