A Man Named Ada

It is winter, the snow swirls like spirits dancing in joy, oblivious of the remorse welling up in the man who walks through the fields and into the woods, clutching to the bundle plumb against his chest. His eyes sting, freezing the tears before they can fall. The child clinging to his chest begins to cry.

“Hush, now, hush,” the man murmurs into the toddler’s ear. He goes further, the wind pushing at his back, driving him on when his legs want to stop.

“Ada, Ada, where going?” the child’s voice is muffled in the man’s cloak. Ada lets the boy lift his head to look at him. In his little brown eyes, he sees himself, his brothers, his father, but also the boy’s mother. I have to, he tells himself, if I don’t, they’ll kill him.

“I’ll tell you when we get there, Luma. Just be still.” The boy snuggled back into his elder brother, closing his eyes again.

“Okay, Ada.” Ada wanted to scream and curse at himself. Mostly for not drugging Luma enough. He wanted him to be unconscious the entire time, but he was afraid of accidently killing him, so was light on the elixir he put in his drink. Now Luma was awake, subdued and sleepy, but his eyes would be open when he sees his eldest brother leave him for dead in the woods. No, not for dead, but left for a fate that might just be worse.

At last Ada entered Dragon’s Wood, the weird and gnarled trees, fire resistant and blackened from the ash of the non-retardant trees making them even eerier. He walked on, Luma still lulling in and out of sleep, mumbling every now and then to remind Ada that he was still there. Ada came to the foot of Synopsis Peak, hoping the mountain dwelling peoples there would rescue him. If they did not, then he was subjecting his youngest brother to a fate of either freezing to death or being torn apart by wild dragons.

Ada took off his scarf with one hand and laid it down in the snow, placing Luma on top of it. Luma rubbed his little eyes.

“We here?”

“Yes, Luma. We are here.” The little boy looked around with wide eyes and when he realized there was nothing particularly special or good about here, he looked to his elder in confusion.

“Ada, why we here?” Ada said nothing. What could he tell him? We’re here because our other brothers wanted to kill him? They despised him because they were bastards, and he was a true heir? Because Ada was the only one who did not want to see their baby brother dead? And yet, Ada couldn’t help but feel slighted. As the eldest of their father’s sons, he was to inherit the manor, the fields, the barns, everything: then Luma was born, and he was left nothing. Yes, he was angry, he was hurt, but to kill a child? It was beyond what he was willing to do. So, he compromised with his brothers, and this is what they settled on. He took a shaky breath,

“We’re going to play a game, Luma.” He said. “You’re going to close your eyes, and keep them closed until I call your name. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, completely trusting his brother. Ada’s eyes welled with tears, and he embraced Luma one last time.

“Luma, I need you to know, this isn’t your fault. I love you, and I pray you can forgive me.”

“Ada?”

“Luma, do you know I love you?”

“I love you too, Ada.” Finally, a tear slipped down Ada’s cheek.

“Good. Now close your eyes. No peeking.” Luma obeyed. “No matter what, do not open your eyes until I say your name.”

“Okay, Ada.” And he stepped away from Luma, still sitting in the snow with his little, innocent eyes closed, fully trusting, not seeing the betrayal in front of him. Ada clamped his hand over his mouth and back away slowly, trying for his feet not to crunch in the snow. Then he ran, ran as fast as he could away from Luma, all the while sobbing softly to himself,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”.

When Ada returned home, quietly in the still of the morning before their father woke, his brothers greeted, eager to hear his news.

“Well,” the third oldest, Curan asked, “is it done?”

“Left at the foot of Synopsis in the Dragon Wood.” He was given a hot drink and his cloak was taken by another. “But I have no idea what we will tell father.”

“We have that covered.” Curan smiled slyly.

It was quiet in the still of the morning and Xira walked through the wood, her feet heavy with despair, her right wing tucked close to her body, the left shielding her hatchling, who stumbled every few steps in the snow, his legs still small. In her mouth, held by the wings, swung her other baby, now dead. She did not know what took this hatchling’s life so swiftly, but it filled her heart with grief, and now she needed to bury him. She found a clearing and stopped, her other baby stilling beside her. With one paw Xira used her massive claws to dig into the frozen earth, and with ease she dug out a small grave. She placed the limp body of her baby into the earth and let out a deep whine of mourning. Her hatchling did the same, though he did not understand why they did so. She nuzzled him and he pushed back against his mother, licking her nose. Comforted, Xira took one last look at her dead baby, licked his face, then pulled the dirt back over him. They sat in quiet for a few moments, letting their grief wash over them, when they heard a small voice calling out. The dragon hatchling perked up.

“Mama, do you hear that?”

“I do, Ashka, but I wonder where it’s coming from.”

“This way!” The baby dragon sprinted from his mother’s side towards the sound. Terrified of losing her second baby Xira charged after him.

“Ashka! Stop!” He was surprisingly fast considering how he much he tripped as he went. He dove into the brush, and she lost sight of him. Panic seized her.

“Ashka! Ashka, where are you!?”

“Here, Mama!” She followed his voice and when she came upon him, she gripped his ear between her teeth. He struggled against her, flapping his wings pitifully and to no avail.

“Do not ever run away from me like that again. Do you understand?” She scolded him.

“Yes, Mama,” he grumbled. “But I found the sound.” He used his wing to point towards a human child sitting alone in the snow. Cold dread ripped through her body. Xira took her paw and drew Ashka underneath her. He protested a bit but then sensed his mother’s alarm and stilled. She glanced around in fear. Hunters and dragon trappers did not venture this far into the Dragon Wood, especially in the winter, but she had learned early on you can never be too careful with humans. Her old scars ached. As she scanned the area, she picked up no trace of other humans. Only this child. As she thought on it, she realized it was quite odd that a human child this young would be out trapping in winter. And why would they leave him alone? She let go of Ashka and approached cautiously, her hatchling walking with her hind legs. The child was dark in skin and hair, he cried over and over one word with his eyes firmly shut: Ada. Xira looked around again and saw no one. She came closer, the boy stiffening asked again,

“Ada?” She sniffed his hair and blew out a strong gust back onto him. The human began to panic. He cried over and over, “Ada! Ada! Ada!” He was sobbing inconsolably, tears and snot streaming from his face. And in Xira’s heart she felt moved to compassion. With her great tongue she licked the boy’s face. He fell back from the force and opened his eyes. They too were brown and were wide with wonder. He looked uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure to fear or embrace her. She licked him again, noting how cold his skin felt, and she wondered how long he had been out here. Ashka approached the human and licked his face as well. The child smiled brightly and licked Ashka’s face back, then wrapped his arms around his neck, holding him tightly. Ashka tried to pull away but was weaker than the human.

“Mama!” He called and she laughed deep in her chest. She looked around once more and decided this would be her child. Taking the back of his shirt in her teeth she lifted him and he did not fight her. He let go of Ashka, who gave a sigh of relief.

“Ashka, grab the cloth,” she said nodding to the scarf on the ground.

“Yes, Mama.” He followed behind her, tripping now on his feet and the scarf. “What’re we going to do with him, Mama?”

“We’re going to bring him into our family.”

“Really?” He gave an excited little flutter of his wings, swishing the snow beneath him.

“Yes, really. Meet your new brother, Ada.”

Ada clutched his sword to his chest, hiding beneath a felled tree, praying he would not be found. He wondered what could have brought him to this moment, what in his short life brought him now so low and face to face with a fiery death. Could it be that one crucial moment? That secret sin that weighed so heavily on his mind since that bitter night he committed it? Yes, yes perhaps, but every time he faced hardship Ada could not but help but think it was his reckoning for abandoning that child. And yet this time he could trace an invisible thread back to that night to his current state.

Curan and his brothers had taken Luma’s coat and tore it, dipped it in blood, and then presented it to their father with the lie that he was murdered by wild dragons. In grief and fury their father declared a war on the drakes of Dragon’s Wood. An insane notion, declaring war against dragons, but he did so anyways, and an onslaught against the creatures ensued. They killed dragons by the hundreds. It was almost sport; until five years ago. It was as if the dragons had learned how humans moved, how they fought and tracked. And soon the hunters were being hunted. The king wanted a war and now he had one, and the humans were losing. Now Ada sat in the middle of a scorched battlefield, the cries of pain and terror bleeding into the roars of the beasts as they flew overhead. Ada knew this was the end, and he knew there was no escape. His hiding place was revealed when the tree was thrown from him by a great grey dragon, paws and snout stained in blood, wings spread wide making him twice as large. Ada threw his hands up to protect his face.

“Please! Please, spare me!” He begged. The dragon snarled and lowered his head, revealing a rider on his back. Ada’s eyes widened in shock. He had never seen anyone ride a dragon like a horse, and yet there the young man sat, clothed in armor made from dragon scales, clutching a spear made from a dragon’s tooth. But that face, those eyes…twenty years makes a difference but there was no mistake.

“L-Luma?” he stuttered. The man lifted his head and stared Ada down but said nothing. “Luma, it’s me, your brother, Ada.” The dragon rumbled deep in his throat and the man rumbled in response. Ada stood and approached the dragon and the man cautiously. “Luma? Do you know me?” No response still. “Can you speak the human tongue?” He wondered aloud.

“Yes, I can.” Luma finally spoke, his voice rough and cracked from not speaking like this often.

“Luma, I am so glad to see you alive,” he smiled.

“Why, when you left me for dead?” Ada’s smile faltered.

“Luma, you must believe me, I did it to save you, they wanted to kill you,” he fell to his knees before him and bowed his head low in shame. “Luma you must believe me. I did what I thought was best. Please,” his voice broke with every word. “Forgive me.” Silence, then,

“I forgive you.” The elder brother looked up sharply.

“Truly? You forgive me?” His heart rose.

“Luma forgives you for abandoning him. But Ada cannot forgive you for your other sins.”

The elder brother furrowed his brow, confused. “Ada? But aren’t I-”

“Ada is the name my dragon mother gave me. And do you know how her mate died?” the elder brother did not, but he could only suspect one thing. “At the hands of humans like you, hunting dragons for sport and out of hatred.”

“Luma, you don’t understand, this whole war was for you! If we bring you home the war will end, peace between men and dragons.” The younger brother thought on this.

“So then, all this blood shed is on your hands? Because of your actions these peoples and dragons have suffered?” No response from the elder. Luma dismounted and approached his brother, now eye level with him when before he did not even come up to his knees. He sighed deeply. “You just want peace, is that all?”

“Yes, yes, Luma, please, come home. I’m so sorry I left you alone. I should have never listened to them.” The elder brother cried. The younger hugged him.

“I forgive you. I love you, Ada. You know this?”

“I do, Luma. I love you too.” They smiled at one another. The younger brother took the elder by the shoulders.

“Close your eyes, Ada. We’re going to play a game.” Ada’s face fell.

“A g-game?” he swallowed hard.

“Yes. Now close your eyes.” the elder closed his eyes, tears falling quietly.

“Luma, please…”

“Shh. No talking.” He walked away and stood beside the dragon. “Ashka, are you ready?” The dragon grunted. “Now, brother, say my name.” the elder swallowed hard.

“Please,” he cried, “don’t do this…”

“What. Is. My. Name.” he punctuated every word.

“Luma,” his voice quivered. Silence was his only response. He was too afraid to open his eyes.

“Luma died in those woods twenty years ago. There is only Ada now. And I’m sorry brother, but there can only be one Ada.” Before the elder could plead Ashka spewed his flames, the fire hungrily licking up the man’s clothes and flesh all at once, not even giving him a chance to cry out in agony. Ada only stood and watched as his human brother was burned alive by his dragon brother. It was nothing personal, and if anything, it was an act of compassion. This war was far from over, and the rest of his human family had a much worse fate ahead of them. He and Ashka walked away, the embers and ashes swirling like dancing spirits of remorse and joy.