FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter Fifty Nine

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Vakaal stood atop a tall, golden dune, waiting to see Father shape the rain. In the months that passed since they’d rebuilt their village, Father had let Vakaal tag along further and further from home. Father built more channels between the oases dotting the desert, ensuring water would flow through the sands. Vakaal no longer believed Father had any trouble with his shaping, but Vakaal kept his secret. At night, when they returned home, he swore up and down Father exhausted himself out there, all for the betterment of the tribe. He never told the others Father was erasing the wasteland by bringing the desert back to life. oasis

Little by little, and day by day, Father spread life through the world. Father shaped the cracked red earth into golden sand. One day, he scattered the seeds of hand-fruit trees, shaped rich dirt around them, and coaxed them to grow with water formed from nothingness. Another time, he bent the wasteland into deep, bowl-shaped depression, then cut a furrow across the desert, and drew water filled with fish and young rakatch to fill the new pond.

As the seasons turned, Father brought the rains. Water was life, and without it none of them would survive for long. In years past, Father watched the skies, and guided them to follow the storms. Now, Vakaal wondered if they had ever truly followed the rain at all, or just followed Father as he spread life. Even though they had settled alongside the large oasis, Father sent water into the world.

In the distance, Father stood on another dune, shaping the sky. He stood with arms outstretched above his head, sunlight glinting off his silver bracelets. Father spread his hands and white clouds sprang into being. The further he parted his hands, the bigger the clouds grew. They stretched across the blue expanse, darkening as they taller, deeper. Soon the two urd’thin were in the clouds shadow.

A fat raindrop struck Vakaal right between the eyes. He yelped and flailed his hands, ears pinned back. Father’s laughter echoed from the neighboring dune. Very funny. A few more raindrops speckled the golden sand with dark blotches. Father pushed his hands out and sent the clouds drifting eastward. A deluge cascaded across the eastern sands, soaking everything. Muddy streams refilled the dwindling oases. The rain watered the scattered copses of handfruit trees, and the stout, spiky cactuses and tangled snake-vines.

When the rainclouds neared the horizon, Father birthed more rainstorms in the sky. Each started with tiny clouds and grew into towering behemoths laden with rain. Each storm was sent in another direction to soak every corner of the desert. Thanks to his father, the sands would never thirst for long.

Vakaal wondered if he could make rain. The pup tilted his head back, squinting against the bright sunlight. He thrust his hands towards the sky, muttering under his breath. “Clouds formed above Vakaal.”

Just above him, a little cloud formed, so close he could almost touch it. Vakaal smiled, standing on his tip toes. His dull claw tips brushed the bottom of the cloud, mist swirling in their wake. He giggled, ears perked. Vakaal stretched his hands apart, guiding the cloud. Without even speaking his change, the cloud obeyed. It grew and grew until it shaded the entire dune.

“This is easy!” Vakaal wagged his bushy tail. “The cloud brought soaking rain!” Then he blinked, and gave a startled yap. “No, wait, not until-”

The cloud brought soaking rain. It poured across the dune, and across Vakaal, drenching the pup in an instant. He yowled and thrashed at the cloud, trying to get it to stop. The rain inundated his breeches and his fur, soaking him to his skin. It was far colder than he expected. He jumped up and down, flailing at the rain cloud in a vain attempt to disperse it.

“Stop! ACK! Cold! Go away!” He jumped again, waving both hands. “Enough already!”

The pup’s feet slipped on muddy sands. Vakaal toppled forward, and rolled head over tail all the way down the rain-slicked hill. He yipped and yelped and grunted and finally rolled to a stop at the very bottom. The little urd’thin ached all over, and his head swam. Wet sand clung to him. He spat some of it from his muzzle, panting. At least he was out of the rain.

The rain cloud drifted, pouring more icy rain upon the pup.

Vakaal squeaked and rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to crawl away from it. In the distance, Father laughed. Vakaal growled under his breath. He pushed himself up, stumbled, and whirled around. Vakaal faced down the rain cloud as though it were a great foe. He thrust his hands towards it, speaking his story with as much gravity as a little pup could afford.

“A great gust of wind came!” Wind blasted Vakaal from behind, ruffling his damp fur. Against wet skin, the wind was cold but would help him dry. “It blew the storm towards Vakaal’s father!” The rainclouds swirled, caught in the wind, rolling across the sky to the nearby dune. “The rains drenched Father, and left him shivering, and cold, and begging for help from his wonderful pup!”

As the storms reached Father, the other urd’thin tilted his head and stared at the cloud. He perked his ears around his horns. Then Father shrugged and waved his hand. The entire cloud dissipated in an instant. Father turned away to survey his own storms, now inundating different parts of the desert. Vakaal’s ears drooped.

Lousy, cheating Father. Well, he’d show him. He’d go pounce him while he was all damp and covered with sand. Or push him down the dune. Or one, then the other.

Vakaal snuck across the sands while Father was distracted. He kept careful watch on the older urd’thin. When Father turned to see how his other rainstorms were faring, Vakaal ambled around the dune, trying to stay out of sight. Father seemed fixated on one particular direction. His tail twitched an agitated rhythm. Maybe one of his storms wasn’t producing enough water. Vakaal smiled.

The perfect time for an ambush.

The young urd’thin crept up the dune behind his father, a devious smile on his muzzle. While Father’s attention was elsewhere, Vakaal moved closer, intent on shoving his father down the dune. He’d see how funny it was then. Vakaal lunged, shoving his hands at his father’s back. Without even glancing back, Father sidestepped him and snatched his wrist in an iron grip.

The pup gave a startled yelp, his eyes wide. It didn’t hurt, but Father had never done that before. He splayed his ears, hoping Father wasn’t angry about his attempted prank. When Father released him, he glanced up at the older urd’thin’s face. Father’s ears were pinned back. His muzzle was scrunched, a few of his fangs bared. His dark eyes trembled with a haunted uncertainty Vakaal had never seen in them before. That wasn’t anger on Father’s face.

It was fear.

“Vakaal, go home.” Father’s voice was taut and sharp. “Right now.”

The words turned Vakaal’s blood to ice. He’d never heard Father speak like that. The pup couldn’t even remember ever seeing his father afraid, before. Even when Vakaal had locked himself in clay, Father worked calmly to free him. But this was different. Vakaal gulped and followed Father’s gaze across the horizon.

In the distance, far to the east, Father’s rainstorm collapsed. The clouds withered and faded. A seam formed down the middle of them. It cut the clouds apart, dividing them in half and pushing them away from one another. Vakaal had never seen storms knifed apart that way. It almost looked as if…

Vakaal shivered, his fur bristling. “Someone’s shaping them.”

“I told you to go home.”

The pup ignored him, his attention beyond the crumbling storm, where clouds of sand rose and billowed. It looked like the golden haze that rose up when groups of large birds swept across the ground, stirring up sand with their wings. Something was driving the sand, and whatever it was, it was far larger than any bird.

“Father, what is it?”

“Vakaal, I need you to listen very carefully.” Father turned and knelt before the pup, and took his hand. Vakaal glanced down. His whole hand seemed encompassed by Father’s. “You have to go back to the tribe, right now. And you have to keep them safe. Hide them in the tunnels. You have to protect the tribe, Vakaal. They need you now.”

A cold tightness clutched at Vakaal’s heart. “But Father-”

“You have to protect them. If I don’t come back, you’re their chief shaper.”

“Wh-what?” Vakaal’s panted, his belly twisting. “What are you talking about?”

“Vakaal, I…” Father swallowed, and looked away for a moment. Then he grabbed Vakaal and hugged him tight with both arms, his voice breaking. Tears wet the pup’s fur. “Vakaal, I love you so much. You are my greatest joy, the very best part of my life.”

“I…I love you too, Father!” Vakaal hugged him back, a sob wracking him. He buried his face in Father’s fur, surrounding himself with his familiar, loving scent. Why was Father crying? What was happening? “Where are you going?”

Father hugged him for long moments, shoulders shaking. When he finally pulled back, his dark eyes glistened with pain. “To make sure they never reach you. But you have to go to the tribe. You have to protect them, and if I don’t make it back, you have to carry on for me. You know what I do now, Vakaal, how I heal the world for us. You must do the same. They’re all depending on you.” He sucked in a ragged breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, then pointed a trembling finger to the west. “Now go!”

“No! Father, I wanna help you, I want-”

“You can’t.” Father took another deep, shuddering breath, pressed his muzzle to Vakaal’s head, just between his horns. “I will always love you Vakaal. I know you will do me proud.”

“But Father!” Tears poured down Vakaal’s muzzle, his ears drooping. “I can’t let you-”

“Some days, Vakaal…” Father stood back up, and put a hand on his shoulder. “We have to learn to let go, no matter how much it hurts. Goodbye, my son. Keep our people safe, and live your life well.”

Before Vakaal could utter another world, Father’s shaping hurled him across the desert. It didn’t hurt, but the world flew by in a blink, a rush of wind and force all around him, and a speed that left his head spinning. In a single heartbeat, he’d gone from Father’s side to a dune at least a half mile away. He stumbled and fell into the hot sands, gasping.

What…what was happening? He pushed himself to his feet, digging his palms into his eyes. What was going on? In the distance, he saw the village. It was bigger now than it had been even before the great storm. A collection of little houses and huts, buildings to store food and water, cookfires and pens to store animals, orderly lines of plants, growing food. There were dozens of his people there, all waiting for him and Father to return home.

All…all taking Father for granted. All thinking he was…pushing himself to the edge for them, and…were they even grateful? They didn’t understand. Father didn’t want them to understand. He and Father were not like the others. The others needed protection. But…they had food there, and water aplenty. They had shelter…

But Father said they needed his help. Vakaal started down the dune, wringing his hands. Father sounded like he wasn’t coming back. But…why not? What…what was he doing? Father wanted him to protect his people but…but what if Father needed help?

To make sure they don’t reach you.

Vakaal tucked his tail, whining. He sniffed a few times, staring at the distant village. What was he supposed to do, run back there, tell everyone to get into the tunnels? To hide from some unknown threat? Tell them…tell them Father wasn’t…wasn’t…

Was Father going to die?

The pup grabbed at his chest. Gods, his heart hurt. He didn’t want Father to die! He didn’t want to be alone. To wander the village, to try and keep them safe. Was he…even strong enough? Could he shape enough to keep the village going? To carry on his Father’s work? How would he ever do it, without Father there to help him?

It wasn’t fair. Father gave everything for Vakaal, for the tribe, and now he was going off to what, to risk his life for them? To die for them? For Vakaal?

No. Vakaal balled up his fists. No!

Vakaal grit his teeth, wondering what could possibly scare his father so much. The pup thrust his hands out and lifted, shaping the world without even thinking about it. He just needed to see what was happening. The dune rose. Sand poured across the desert to build it higher and higher, lifting Vakaal.

In the distance, clouds of sand drifted behind dozens of great, scaled beasts with vast wings. He’d never seen such creatures. They bore riders shrouded in dark robes as if to protect from the sand and sun. And he saw his father, striding out to meet them, tall and seemingly unafraid, his tail stiff, his shoulders squared. Vakaal whined. Oh, his poor Father, alone against all those monsters. Father was always filled with bravery, even facing insurmountable odds.

A realization struck Vakaal like a stone hurled into his belly. He gasped, staggering back.

It was just like the story.

Men in robes, on scaled beasts. Faced down by a single, brave champion, their First Chief, destined to die to save his people.

Father was the Chief now. And like the story, he would surely die for his people.

Alone.

“No…no…no!” Vakaal stumbled down the dune, and broke into a run at the bottom. “No. No, no no!”

Vakaal’s head spun as he sprinted over hot sands. The story was real. And they’d come back. Now it was Father’s turn to face his own death, just to protect his people. And then…and then Father would be nothing more than a story told to the tribe. In time, they’d forget he was ever even real. His beloved Father, forgotten by the world, his sacrifice never known...

“NO!” Vakaal screamed the word, and the sands exploded. It wasn’t fair. Father deserved so much better than to die alone, in the sand, with no one by his side. “I won’t let you die!”

This would not be how his father’s story ended. This would not be how his father died. Stormclouds boiled over his head, flashing with blue-white lightning. Vakaal had changed the story of the First Chief when he told it to the tribe, and now he would change his Father’s story, too.

“Father will survive!”

All around him, the sand made monsters. It poured into the sky, into the clouds, and birthed monstrous, shrieking birds with curled talons and lightning wreathing their beaks. They swooped and dove in the sky above him, sand and cloud drifting from their wing tips. Behind him, more sand erupted and shaped itself into towering, six-legged monstrosities charging across the desert. The men in robes had an army of beasts, and now so did Vakaal.

Vakaal leapt, and the world bent beneath him. It propelled him across the desert, a single bound that crossed almost as much distance as Father’s shaping had thrown him. In the moment, he barely even realized what he was doing, what he was making. All that mattered was his father’s survival.

He leapt the dune where he’d last stood with his father in another bound, and found himself in a vast stretch of flat, open desert. The sands there were wet, sinking beneath Vakaal’s pads as he streaked across them. The ground changed under his feet, giving him more traction, helping him run faster. Behind him, it solidified and cracked like golden glass.

Far ahead of him, Father fought men and beast. One of the flying monsters and sprayed fire from its maw. In a flash, Father shaped the fire away, and sent the creature crashing into the sand. Father, thrust his hands, and hurled a green behemoth and its rider across the desert. They toppled over the sands, monster crushing man.

Yet Vakaal knew Father was still holding back. Why? Why didn’t Father call a terrible storm to sweep his foes away? Or open a chasm in the earth to swallow them? Surely, Father could shape the sand into a thousand glass blades to cut them apart.

So why didn’t he? Did the gods not want him to succeed?

With a snarl, pup leapt again, intent on propelling himself all the way into the battle. His army of sand followed in his wake, obeying his every subconscious command. As he rocketed through the air, across the desert, he focused on his father.

Another monster lashed out at his father’s back. Father dropped to the ground, and claws whistled over him. He scrambled back to his feet, then scaled the beast like a tree and kicked its rider right out of his saddle. Then something unseen struck his father and sent him toppling back to the ground.

“Father!”

The pup howled as he hurtled down amidst the invaders. His wrath was a shockwave that blasted robed men into the sky all around him. Storm-birds of sand and lightning snatched screaming men from the air. Others crashed into the flying beasts, dragging them to the earth. Talons of stone cut through scales. His six-legged monstrosities barreled into other black and green creatures. Vakaal pivoted, looking for his father. He’d lost track of him in all the chaos.

“Father! Where are-”

Something struck Vakaal everywhere at once, every bone, every organ alight with agony. Whatever it was picked him up and tossed him across the sand as if he was nothing more than a toy. He landed awkwardly, and something snapped in his arm. He screamed into the wet sand, in pain like he’d never know. For a moment, every sound was muffled, and his vision flooded with white light. Thunder echoed somewhere above him. He heard Father call his name.

Father. Father needed him.

Vakaal snarled through the pain, his breath stirring the sand. “This is…my story!”

The pup pushed himself up in a smooth motion, every part of his body healing. His broken arm realigned, a flash of sharp agony as the bones knit together in an instant. He hadn’t thought about it, he hadn’t told a story in which he healed. Just like his army of sand, it simply happened. Vakaal needed to be whole, and thus, he was.

Once on his feet, Vakaal looked for his father. He spotted the older urd’thin weaving amongst their enemies. Father looked wounded. Why wasn’t he healing himself? Then again, Vakaal’s body had never healed itself until now. Maybe Father just needed a moment. Yet even injured, even holding back, Father wreaked havoc.

Father tossed a man into the air with his shaping, where Vakaal’s storm bird bit through him with lightning wreathed beak. Blood splattered the sand. One of the monsters tried to pin him under a paw as another man rushed forward with a strange, ebony loop in his hands. Father formed sand into a knife and drove it through the creature’s foot. It squealed and stumbled back. As Father whirled to his feet, he snatched away the black circlet, and smashed it across another invader’s face. Then he threw his hands out, and sent both man tumbling in opposite directions.

With terror in his voice, Father called Vakaal’s name.

Everything happened so fast, no one seemed to realize Vakaal was back on his feet. Vakaal strode towards them, snarling. Through the chaos, he spotted golden insignias on some robes. Those men gestured wildly with their hands, shifting things around them. Moving other men and beasts in a blink, blasting apart his sand creatures with impossible gusts of wind, forming weapons from the earth. Vakaal recognized the gestures immediately.

They were shaping.

So that was what struck him. But they weren’t very good at it. Their movements were clumsy, their grasp of shaping crude. They were all brute force and no grace. Any angry pup could throw stones, but a true shaper could catch that stone with the wind and hurl it back, or turn it into clay. Or even remove it from existence entirely. If Father wasn’t holding back, he would have annihilated these enemies.

One of the men with the gold-marked robe finally spotted him. Though most of the man’s face was covered, his eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe the little pup was unharmed. That must have been the one that tried to kill him. The man lifted his hands again. Vakaal flicked his fingers and hurled an entire scaled beast into him. The monster squealed as it tumbled across the sands, crushing the robed invader, and several others.

That got their attention.

Vakaal raised his hands, and threw them back down towards the earth. All his sand creatures exploded at once, only to reform right in the middle of the battle. They snatched up invaders, crushing them, hurling screaming men around. They charged into the beasts, wrestled and fought them. Where the monsters bled, his sand creatures only crumbled and reformed with fresh sand. They followed not his commands, but his instincts, his desire to protect his father.

“It’s not the adult!” One of the enemy’s commanders yelled something to his people. The language was completely alien to Vakaal. He’d never heard it spoken in his life, and yet he understood every word. “It’s the child! Send the dragons after the child!”

Dragons. So that was what they were called.

Three of them came after him at once. Two barreled across the sand, while the third swooped down from above. Vakaal’s heart thundered. He could do this. He knew he could do this. Father once told him he could do anything. Vakaal was starting to think he was right. Vakaal told himself he was the hero of his own story. He could do anything. He would save his father.

“Vakaal was a great hero, brave and unstoppable!”

The world bent, and made it so. The dragons brought tooth, claw, and flame to bear against him. Vakaal told himself the story, and the story became reality.

“They could not touch him!” The dragons’ claws caught only fur, never skin, as Vakaal darted between them. Their teeth snapped near his gray ears, but never touched him. Flames only found the places he had been.

“None could harm the great hero Vakaal!” The massive creatures twisted around, chasing after him, but he wove between their limbs, ducked under their necks.

“His fists were stone!” Vakaal slammed both his fists into a dragon’s chest so hard he felt bone break beneath the fractured armored plates. It coughed blood onto the sand and stumbled away. Another dragon surged forward, jaws parted and teeth bared for his head. Vakaal struck it under the jaw, shattering bone and teeth. He stepped on its muzzle as it collapsed, climbing its head like stairs. He tore the horns from its skull, shaped them into knives.

“His weapons could pierce anything, even the sky itself!” Lightning crackled around his horn-shaped blades.

Vakaal sprang off the dragon’s head, driving it into the sand. The bending world propelled him aloft. His knives cut lines through the sky. Blistering indigo bolts followed in their wake. The flying dragon banked away, but Vakaal dropped onto its head, driving his horn-hewn knives into the creature’s skull. It screamed, seized and jerked, and plummeted. From the air, he saw his father wounded, and struggling in another battle with beasts and men nearby. He’d save him soon enough.

As the dying dragon hurtled towards the earth, the music in Vakaal’s head wailed as a mournful choir. Vakaal leapt from the beast before it crashed. He landed in the midst of his enemies, the sand turning to glass beneath his feet. As Vakaal’s will became death, he sang, sad and sorrowful. Tears spilled over his muzzle with every horrible deed he shaped. His fists shattered bone. His lightning disintegrated flesh. His sand-creatures buried men alive. Winds rushed across the desert, howling his sadness.

Heartbroken, the pup fought on. He never wanted to hurt anyone, to take life. But if it saved his father, he-

“Vakaal!” One of the humans called his name. They must have heard Father calling it. “Vakaal, stop!”

The shock of hearing one of them speak his name brought Vakaal to a halt. His sand creatures melted away. He panted heavily, his heart pacing. The dead and wounded lay all around him. Grief and fury forged fire in his voice. “Look what you made me do! Leave us alone! Just…leave us alone!”

The survivors looked horrified. Some had lost their hoods and masks. Shock and terror drew their flat faces taut. The remaining dragons drew away from him, some of them limping. One crawled. Vakaal lifted a hand. Blood coated it. He swallowed, fighting the urge to vomit. Gods, what had he become? All he wanted was to protect his father, and everything just…happened.

Father!

“You’re even stronger than your father, aren’t you.”

Vakaal twisted around, and in an instant, anger and determination melted into horror. In the distance his father lay on the ground, injured and pinned under a dragon’s paw. Several human wrestled with his arms, clamping black circlets around them. A large ebony collar was locked around his neck. Another human knelt behind him, with a knife in his father’s throat. Blood ran through his fur and across the collar.

“Father!” Vakaal screamed, lifting his hands. He’d save him, he’d-

“I’ll kill him.” The man’s voice was cold, and the nervousness in it made Vakaal even more afraid. “If this blade goes any deeper, he’ll bleed out in front of you, before you ever get a chance to stop it.” He tilted his head, and the last remaining uninjured dragons all moved closer, ready to impede Vakaal. Men with golden sigils on their robes did the same. “You might be able to fight through them, might be able to kill us all. But your father would die first. Is that what you want? You want to watch him die?”

“No!” Vakaal cried out, frantic. The fire fled his voice, replaced by the terrible fear of a pup scared to lose the only family he had. “Don’t hurt him anymore, please!”

“Then let us bind you!” The knife trembled in his hand so much Vakaal was afraid it would cut too deeply into Father’s throat by mistake.

Could he possibly heal him in time? Could he even get to him in time to heal him? Why didn’t father use his shaping? Why didn’t he heal? What were those things they put on him?

The pup was suddenly so afraid for his poor father he was hyperventilating. He wrung his hands, ears pinned back. Far, far above him, something crackled. A few of the humans looked up. They cried out, pointing at the sky. Vakaal did not look. He did not care about the sky. He only cared about his father.

“Dear…Gods…” The man with the knife glanced up, then called out, his voice shaking as much as his knife. “H-hold out…your h-hands! Let my men bind them, and collar you! Or…or…I’ll kill him right now!”

“No!” Vakaal took a few steps, his heart seizing in his chest. His head swam. He could never get there in time. “I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t hurt him!”

“Vakaal!” Father’s voice was a pained croak. “I love you! But you have to let me go. You have to end this-”

One of the other humans grabbed Father’s muzzle, holding it shut. Others rushed to Vakaal, carrying an ebony collar and shackles. He didn’t even look at the men as they snapped the bindings around his wrists, staring only at his father. He knew he’d done wrong, that this wasn’t what Father wanted. That he’d disobeyed. But Vakaal didn’t care, because it meant Father would live.

When they put the collar around his neck, something grabbed him by the heart. A cold tendril squeezed it, stopping from beating for several long breaths. He clutched his chest, muzzle scrunching. When the pain faded, and his heart beat once more, a cold numbness lingered in him.The same numb sensation spread through his arms, an emptiness opening deep inside him. Like a chasm that separated him from his shaping.

Once he was bound, the man with the knife eased it back from Father’s neck. The older urd’thin slumped into the sand. Vakaal pulled away and ran to his father, throwing his arms around him. The pup pressed his muzzle to his father’s fur, wracked with sudden, terrible sobs.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” It was all Vakaal could think to say. He’d failed, somehow, and hadn’t done what Father expected of him. He sucked in a ragged breath, and the wailed anew against his father. “I couldn’t…I just…couldn’t…let you die! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, Father! I love you so much!”

Father eased over onto his side, wrapping his arms around his son. His own voice was hoarse with pain, and a deeper sorrow. “It’s alright, Vakaal. I love you too. Everything will be alright…”

Even Father didn’t sound like he believed it.

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” The human with the knife spoke, but Vakaal wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “The adult was bad enough, but the young one. My God. The power he must have.”

“Are you sure the collar-”

“Lovro said they can suppress anything. I think it will hold. Look at the sky, it already looks better.”

Vakaal lifted his head, snarling. He could feel his shaping inside him, coiled, but contained, as if locked away in some kind of box. “My father was holding back! He’s the strongest of all! You’re only alive because he’s merciful!”

“Is that what he told you?” The human gazed around. Dead men and dragons littered the sands. “That he holds back because of the gods? You’re the one who did all this. But your powers are quelled now, so you’ll do as you’re told.” He thrust a finger at Father. “For his sake.”

Vakaal glared through tear-filled eyes. After a moment, he laid his head against his father. “Why…why did you hold back?”

Father opened his mouth to reply, but could not seem to find the words. Pain shone in his eyes, and he stroked his son’s ears. “Why didn’t you go back to the village?”

“Because…because I couldn’t let you die.” Vakaal’s voice trembled. He lifted a shaking hand to touch his father’s arm. “Are you…are you mad at me?”

“No.” Father squeezed Vakaal’s hand. “The answer to your question, and to mine, is the same. We both did what we thought we had to do. What we thought was right.”

Vakaal thought about that as their captors saw to their wounded. Why would Father think holding back was right? For the Gods? Surely the Gods wanted them to survive. Realization pierced Vakaal like a knife in the chest. Father held back so the invaders would capture him. He planned to let himself be taken away so that the men in robes would never know Vakaal existed at all. Because Father’s sacrifice would have meant Vakaal’s freedom, and the village’s survival…and now…

“How many have we lost?”

“At least twenty, sir. And some of the dragons. Some of the survivors are in bad shape.”

The human made a growling sound, spitting. “That’s unheard of for just two of them. I think they’ll prove to be everything we need, at long last. But for this, for our dead…if there’s a village out there, I want it burned.”

“No!” Vakaal cried out, shaking his head. “No, leave them alone!”

“Shhh, Vakaal, it’s alright.” Father hugged his son’s head against his chest. While the pup cried, Father rubbed his back. “It’s alright, Vakaal, it’s alright…”

It wasn’t.

All he wanted to do was save his father, and now he had, but…their whole village…How could the gods want this? Was…was this because he’d used so much of his power to save his father? He’d changed his whole story, made himself into an unstoppable hero. Had…had he abused his powers? He had, hadn’t he?

This was punishment now.

“It’s my fault!” Vakaal sobbed into his father’s fur. All those years Father tried to tell never to abuse his power, and he didn’t listen. Now, their whole village would suffer for his sins. “I’m sorry, Father, I just…I just wanted to help you!”

“I know, my love, I know.” Father’s voice broke, too. “An act of love is never your fault. You didn’t bring them here…” Father’s body shook under Vakaal while the older urd’thin fought back a sob of his own. He stroked Vakaal’s fur, hugged him tight. He laid his muzzle between Vakaal’s ears. “It’s not your fault…”

Vakaal cried until he had no more tears left to shed. By then, his father’s bleeding had stopped. He lifted his eyes, staring at his father’s bloodied throat. His breathing sounded a little ragged. He must have something broken inside. Vakaal wanted to heal him, but the manacles and the collar…He put a hand on Father’s chest, wondering just how strong their binding was.

Father grasped Vakaal’s hand and eased it back down, whispering. “Now is not the time, Vakaal. I’ll be fine.” Then he licked Vakaal’s ear, and lifted his muzzle. Father stared at the chief of the humans, a growl rising in his voice. “You have no concept of what you’re doing, do you? No idea of what you’ve caught. When you push too far, you think these petty bonds will hold?”

The human’s chief glanced down. “We tried to play nice before. Now we do what we must to save our people.”

“Is that what you think you’re doing? You cannot change what you have already brought upon yourselves.” As Father spoke, Vakaal realized who these people were. Those who came before. Something new crept into Father’s voice, something he’d never before heard when his father spoke. Hatred.

“So look upon this moment, and remember it well. What you’ve done here, what you’ve done to him? One day, this will end your people’s story.”