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Krek's Flight (A Fan-made DITD Short)

* * * * *

Trees rustled restlessly as two pairs of wings -one uneven, one feathered- hurtled across the stormy sky. Below them, the ground was indistinguishable from the foliage that littered the wide, rolling hills. Every so often one would dip out of view from the other, only to rejoin each other as they danced across the currents. From any point on the ground, they would simply be two dark blotches that accompanied the rain in the skies above Illandra on any given day.

As swirling and chaotic as the weather was, The storm in Krek's mind was far worse. Death in the Night, his friendships Valaranyx and his family, his feelings for Kathlyn... it was all spiraling out of control. Sooner or later he would have to make a choice, and either way there was likely to be a hole in his heart, self-made or no.

The guards patrolling the streets far below weren't helping his anxiety. He could just pick out the archers in the streets below, and though they never looked up, Krek was still apprehensive of them. The guards may have been dimly aware of his come-and-go behaviour and refrain from shooting him down, but it was a vastly different story for his scaled companion.

Not for the first time, Krek shot a worried glance at Valar. The patchwork colored dragon, even close as he was to the young drake, was practically invisible against the skies.

It was surprising to Krek that Valar had come along with him. It wasn't just a leisurely trip that had brought the black gryphon back to Illandra. Krek had been surprised, dumbfounded, really, that Kylaryn would trust him with such a task. He glanced to the small, once well-wrapped package he carried against his chest, and clutched it against his chest even tighter. It was a gift to Valyrym, and it was also the reason it made Krek so nervous even in the clouds. Water damage was not allowable.

Valar had not asked, nor had Krek answered why he had beckoned the young dragon to him while he was headed to the capital. As soon as the he had spied the bundle near the gryphon's chest he had abandoned the mostly finished deer and joined him in the air. For the several days spent flying, Krek had stayed beside his friend if his wing ached, and tried to keep the mood light. Still, why Valar had come along was yet a mystery to him.

In retrospect it was perhaps a bad idea to run an errand for Kylaryn at the moment, given the soon to be bitter relationship between them. Krek grimaced, trying to focus on the present.

The pair soared over smaller settlements. In the weather it was dismally clear why only the poor guards on patrol dared to step foot outdoors. He could see them, deep below, huddled under shields when they could to avoid buffeting winds as they shivered in their armor. Any real visibility was impossible to the ground view, and the skies were not much better.

As the two grew nearer to the actual city of Illandra the weather seemed to calm somewhat; the storm was mostly behind them though it would not take long before it returned. Krek picked a relatively flat space to land just outside of the view of the city. With three legs landing proved to be a challenge but at least... this time... he managed it without landing on his balls. Gods, had it hurt when he had done that. He winced in pain from simply the memory.

Valar landed close nearby, shuffling his wings as close to his body as he could manage. In the evening sun it made the rain over the black dragon gleam like wave after wave of polished obsidian, and it brought out some of the blues in such intensity they would have been impossible not to admire. Krek sighed inwardly; if the rain made dragons so much more magnificent it must have done the complete opposite to gryphons. He grasped a pawful of pin feathers at his chest, watching the water squelch out in rivulets. He hated how the water made him a soggy bird, not that he would ever let anyone call him that.

"I still don't understand why you decided to do this."

Krek snapped back to reality as he heard Valar talk for the first time in the entire day. At the beginning of the trip, Krek had actually considered refusing, but he knew he owed a small amount at least to the old blue.

"Valar, you know as well as I do that your mother would not have asked me to do this had I not gained her trust long ago. If I had refused it would have been quite insulting, both to her and me." Krek turned away, hiding a wince. It felt as though the dragon knew something was off with him.

Valar sighed, laying down and tucking his tail neatly around his legs. "And that's your only reason for taking this job?"

Krek swallowed nervously. Sometimes his best friend's incisiveness could get a little overwhelming. No matter what, it seemed as though Valar could tell when he had ulterior motives. In this case, it was the discussion Krek had initially planned for just before Valar left.

"...Maybe not." Krek turned in an uneasy circle, wings twitching to return to the air. "Coming?"

Valar returned the inquisitive stare with one of his own.

"Well, how do you plan to get me past the guards? The only way you'd manage to get through is to reassure the guards of your status."

"I haven't taken that offer yet, Valar."

"Ah, so you plan to take it, then. Still, they've been notified, haven't they?"

Krek 's only response was to toss his head. Then he held the tightly wrapped tome out to his friend.

"Want to see it one last time?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Valar said curtly. The young dragon eyed the book as though it were poison.

"Are you sure?" Krek pressed. "You could give your father a sign, the picture of you inside is over a decade old, your scent's not even on it..."

"Enough, Krek!" Valar's eyes were shut tight as slammed a clenched paw into the ground next to him, sending a small geyser of mud into the air.

The dark gryphon faltered. "I-I thought..." He trailed off.

"Before I even had a chance to truly appreciate what we had, before we even truly went to war..." Valar's voice began low, but rose in strength and resolve. "My father abandoned me. He may not have been gone but he chose to fight, he chose to leave my mother and I, and after Amaleen was lost to us... so was my father. I was forced to watch through my grief as my father sacrificed everything to try to have his revenge." He opened his eyes again. "So why should I help him in his age if he would not stay for me in my youth?"

Krek's tone softened. "I'm sorry, Valar." He returned his gaze to the skies, where the darkening storm had gathered. Once again, tiny water droplets began to splash to the ground, and he withdrew the book. Krek sighed and turned to Valar. "I'll see you soon, Valar. Be safe on the way back." He stood, flexing his wings.

Rising swiftly over the skies, Krek made his way to the five-tiered keep. As ugly as the weathered gray stone was, Krek knew he would see far more of it than he would have imagined when he was young.

A few of the more attentive guards, those with the experience to scan the skies every now and then at the very least knew he wasn't a threat, waved as Krek flew over the city walls.

Watching to make sure the guards lost interest in him, Krek alighted before a dim, rusting grate. As he peered inside he could only glimpse a hint of graying black scales inside the prison buried so far beneath the castle. Slipping the book in between the bars only after a brief moment of consideration and fumbling, Krek breathed a silent prayer of relief as it didn't catch on anything before it caught on the bars at the bottom of the vent. Now, what was done, was done.

Krek had one more issue he had to take care of. His debt to Kylaryn somewhat relieved, he turned to the topmost towers of the keep and began the long flight up cautiously. No matter how familiar his presence was becoming, even though Kathlyn was at the point of renovating a portion of the innermost keep to accommodate him. Tight spaces, not always the best.

Krek smirked. Tight spaces, indeed.

Reaching the tower garden that was his preferred lounge, Krek landed far more gracefully, having the appreciation of four legs once more. Briefly he pondered the balance of the bipedal creatures of the world. How could they keep their balance so often, especially the Urd'thin and Koraa'gi? Their legs were just... backwards. Still, he couldn't help but like those two races in particular.

Taking in the expansive garden, Krek breathed in a sigh of relief. Nobody was around. Gods knew what it might do to people to see him in such a state, feathers askew and waterlogged. He huddled under the overhang, squeezing the water out of his feathers. As he eventually stopped dripping, he stared at the puddle beneath him. When had he become a living mop?

When he was more presentable, Krek slowly opened the large trapdoor. It scraped along his back but he found the gray stone both more accommodating and claustrophobic all at once. Still, he slowly made his way down the fleet of stairs to where he knew the queen would be waiting for him. He had promised to visit today to give her an answer; it was only coincidence that Kylaryn had asked of him a favor. Strange, how the world worked every so often.

Krek wound through several of the halls. Here and here there were dull gray curtains, truly a terrible color, and Krek dried himself on them.

As he finally reached his room he wasn't at all surprised to find Kathlyn already inside. She smiled broadly as he entered the wide double doors, rising from a small desk in the corner to collide with his chest in an embrace.

Krek smiled down to her. "Hello, Kathlyn," he said warmly.

* * * * *

Valyrym woke to the sound of rain. He attempted to cover his ears, intent on sleeping his years away, but the damnable stuff began to rattle as it fell in larger and larger torrents on one of the metal pipes running through his prison. He groaned. Best to get it over with, then.

Rummaging through years of his contraband, Valyrym found the container he was looking for. The softer wood of the bucket would lessen the noise, at least. Wandering from his sleeping chamber, Valyrym passed the stone carvings of his life. His timeline. He shuddered, trying to ignore the terrible images at the end. His memories were a dark lake with a beast of water lurking beneath, awaiting the trigger it needed to burst free and shatter the fragile tranquility Valyrym had somehow managed in his long, long incarceration.

Slowly Val climbed the ledge to the vent. Placing the bucket, he sighed in blessed relief as the noise abated. It was only then that he saw the tattered package sitting at the edge of the small plateau in his cell. He growled. Was this some sort of joke from a villager, or the latest Warden's idea of a dinner? He was about to toss it from the ledge until he saw the gold and reddish glimmer from the inside. Intrigued, he stepped closer.

No. It couldn't be.

As he removed the thin scrap of cloth covering the book, he let out a great cry, dropping to the ground as that beast inside his mind awoke, sending that lake splashing in all directions. Memories he had worked so hard to repress washed to the surface. There was pain, anger, regret, and lots of loss. But most of all, joy surged through the dragon's scarred heart. For the image of his son lay atop the old tome Of Poetry.

Valyrym had hope once more. His son was alive.