Page 11 of Redeeming the Dragon

Mama knew it was time to release me. With a final kiss to my forehead, she stepped away. Afterward, Father wrapped me in a bear hug that swept me off my feet. His arms trembled as he held me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. Without saying a word, he finally set me down, kissed my forehead, and stepped away.

Neena came next. My bossy, overprotective, domineering oldest sister. She pressed a soft satchel into my hand, saying, “It’s a strange little gift. You’ll know what to do with it when you see it.”

A swift hug and embrace, and she released me to Marisa.

As the middle child, Marisa was both the quietest and the most stubborn. She gazed at me very seriously, then said, “My advice is not to quarrel with the dragon the way you do with Neena. If you learn to hold your tongue, perhaps he’ll let you live.”

Whether she meant it in jest or as serious counsel, I could not tell. The advice struck me as humorous, and I burst out laughing. Neena and I did tend to butt heads, like baby goats in the springtime, bouncing about in the meadow, showing off our strength.The humor helped. I felt as if a tight band wrapped about my chest, restricting my heart and breathing, had burst. I could move again. I could breathe. I could think. I looked at each one of my family members. Said simply, “I love you,” then brushed between my sisters, hurrying off the edge of the wooden porch and around the corner. There stood the rest of our village, facing me in the gloom, their lanterns and torches held aloft. For a moment, I paused, gazing at them. Did I owe them words? What could I say?

I saw Prixin, one of the village elders, renowned for his sagacity, step forward.

No,I thought.No, I cannot bear a speech commending my bravery or thanking me for my sacrifice. I simply cannot.

Before Prixin could speak, I waved a hand in thanks, gratitude, farewell—all of those things—and nearly ran for the dirt road behind the house that led up the hill and out of the village. Eventually, if one were to stay on this road, it would narrow down to a trail that circled the entire island. I didn’t need to go that far. Instead, I tramped along until I found the path that branched off and led to the Wailing Cliffs.

The trail was narrow and overgrown by greenery, forcing the villagers and my family into a single-file approach, with me at the lead. It might have looked humorous to see me, of all people, leading this long line of hushed Sanlyn towards a remote, desolate precipice where few ever ventured. Not only because the place lacked importance, but because the name itself implied its haunted nature. While I, like most of the less superstitious folk in the village, believed the ancient name came from the fact that the wind, climbing the steep slope fromthe rocks below, produced the sad, keening sound, others believed the cliffs were haunted. Haunted by the spirit of a Sanlyn lass, who, centuries before, had stood on the cliff, her lantern in hand, watching for her lover who never returned from sea.

Whatever the case, few ventured to this point of the island, and I had a difficult time pushing my way through the tangled vines and branches. That was alright. My breathing increased and the physical exercise caused me to sweat lightly, despite the cooler evening temperatures, forcing my mind off my impending doom. Although I carried no light of my own, the torches and lanterns of those following me provided sufficient illumination for me to see where I ventured.

Either luckily or unluckily, depending on one’s point of view, the path quickly ended, and I broke free at the trail’s end, at the very edge of the abyss. Below me, the waves crashed over huge boulders in a dark ocean that I could hear but not see. Around me, the wind keened its ancient song, sending a sinister chill up my spine, as though in the wind’s grief I heard harbingers of my doom.

I was there.

Where was the dragon?

Chapter 6

My heart quivered. My throat closed up. I could not swallow. The band around my chest tightened again. A blinding thrill of panic seized me.

Run,it urged. Run for the edge of the cliff. Jump, and this will end. You’ll not have to be devoured by a dragon or live your life as his slave. The pain will last a moment, and it will be over. Run…

Whatever devilish voice was whispering to me, urging me, I clapped my hands over my ears to block it out.

But only for an instant.

They are still there. They’re still looking to you. Be brave, Lorna. You must be brave.

Yes. I had to be brave.

Rather than succumb to fear, I slowly lowered my hands then turned to face my family, my village. Their faces were a blur to me, hidden behind the glow of their torches and lanterns. Were they waiting for me to speak? My throat was still closed off. I had no words.

A blur at the edge of the crowd as someone tried to step forward. I thought it was Mama. Another blur of movement as someone caught her skirts, drawing her back. Above the wind’s lament, I heard a croaky voice say, “Let her go, Avigale. Don’t make this more difficult for her than it is.”

The voice belonged to Hortinse, the old village midwife I sometimes assisted. I could not have been more grateful to her as I distinctly heard Mama release a sob. However, Mama obeyed, whirling and plunging into the crowd. I caught glimpses of my father and sisters, along with friends and neighbors, casting me final glances. Then they, too, turned and melted into the throng. Soon, the mass of Sanlyn had vanished altogether into the thick forest. All I saw was the receding illumination of their torches, and all I heard was the trudging of feet through the brush. Soon, even that was swallowed up by thick, encroaching darkness, and the sobbing of the wind.

Farewell,I thought sadly, battling the tears gathering in my eyes.Farewell, farewell. Oh, please be safe. Let my sacrifice count for something.

Invisible fingers of wind clawed at my clothing, turning me in place. Shivering, I gazed out into the vastness of the thick twilight melding with the sea and wished the dragon would arrive. I would rather face my fate and have it over with than stand there and wait, plagued with competing desires to flee into the jungle or to cast myself over the precipice. I restrained myself from both. The jungle might seem a safe place at present, but a dragon’s flaming breath could easily reduce the stout trees to charred twigs. And if I threw myself over the edge of the precipice, I might be gone, but my family and the villagers would still remain. Would the dragon choose to unleash his vengeance? Would he take one of my sisters instead?

I could not run that risk.

Drawn by a wily, impending force seeking to lead me to my doom, I crept closer to the edge of the Wailing Cliffs. Some perverse instinct willed my sandals to move one inch nearer. That same odd force beckoned me to lean over and look. To see the jagged boulders, bathed in the white foam of the waves crashing around them.

Jump,the voice in my brain whispered slyly.Jump. All of your troubles will be ended. No agony from a dragon. No fears on that score. Spread your arms and fly—fly into the sea.

My toes trembled on the dark brink. I stared downwards. Despite the upheavals in my life, the sea was unchanged. Insistent. Churning. Angry that she could not rise over this bluff. Swirling around the rocks below as if, by her fury, she could wear them away. While the rocks held, allowing her to have her furious say, the Wailing Cliffs loomed over them all, a silent sentinel guarding against the water’s wrath.

Jump. Free yourself of this burden.

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