Black Wings Trilogy

There weren't always dragons in the valley. Yet, the towering drakes perched along the cliffs, still as great stone statues made the landscape feel like an ancient draconian cathedral. As dawn painted the sides of the valley orange, smaller dragons emerged from caves and crevices. The blue sky pushed away the gray of dusk and revealed the plume of smoke billowing from the far end of the glen. They congregated at the edge of the creek, taking turns to drink. Two of the drakes spread their great wings and dove off the cliff, gliding to the gathering clan below. The dragons stepped aside to make a path for the great beasts. The largest drake raised his head and let loose with a thundering roar that seemed to split the sky.

Chaos ensued as dragons scattered. Blasts of fire shot out in every direction sending dragons rolling across the ground and tumbling towards the earth. Claws slashed and wings billowed. The drakes on the ground seemed to bark orders as they observed.

Willow watched the sparring from the base of the tower at the mouth of the valley. She was uncomfortably aware of the rifle strapped across her back, peeking out from under her long, dark brown curls. Like the dragons, she too was preparing to fight.

Her gaze drifted past the fighting dragons to the smoke billowing at the end of the canyon. It was a brooding year. The fires were the nests of the next generation of the Black Wing dragon clan. More eggs had been laid over the course of three months than had been since dragon hunts began in medieval times and they would be hatching soon. It was smoke from similar nursery fires however, that signaled their enemies in the past to the location of a dragon clan left vulnerable with newborns.

"You about ready?"

Willow was startled out of her thoughts. She turned around to find Aaron, her husband, watching her intently, his stark blue eyes filled with knowing concern.

"Are you ready?" He repeated the question.

"As much as I'll ever be, I suppose," Willow sighed.

Aaron gave a sharp whistle and a dragon descended from the top of the tower landing next to a pallet of metal crates.

"Your chariot awaits," Aaron took off his battered cowboy hat and bowed his head dramatically, his scruffy blond hair covering his face.

Willow couldn't help but smile as she walked behind the dragon's wing and climbed up onto it's back. Aaron climbed up behind her and with a single mighty thrust of its wings, the dragon took flight, hoisting the crates by a chain. They skirted the sparring dragons and glided towards the end of the valley, the cool Siberian air whipping around them.

"You seem worried," Aaron spoke up.

"There's not enough room," Willow said. "If we have to run, some eggs or hatchlings will have to be left behind. That's assuming of course that the incubators even work or don't break down."

"Or combust," Aaron added.

Willow cast a glare at him over her shoulder.

"Listen," Aaron said, "We've tested and retested. You have taken a million measurements from the nests. We've both been working on this since college. We stand a fighting chance. 'Better chance than any brood has had in generations' I believe is what you said."

We're here," Willow said.

The back of the valley formed a natural bowl with sheer cliffs on three sides and a wall built from boulders separating it from the rest of the valley. On the other side of the wall, dragons on the ground blew fire into smoldering piles of trees, shifted burning logs and dug out ash. A pile of various animal corpses laid in the middle of the nesting grounds from which the dragonesses quickly selected a meal and hurried back to their nests.

Three palates of the metal crates already sat near the edge of the valley. As the dragon descended, resting the crate next to others. An older dragoness approached. Her form shifted in streaming black vapors. A minute later, a stately woman clad in black robes took her place. Willow slid off the dragon and approached the woman.

"This is the last of them," she said.

"It's not enough," the woman said.

Willow nodded and swallowed hard. "I know. It's the best we could do. You can fit 3 eggs in each cube and there's 8 cubes on each pallet. They will maintain the same temperature as your nests for 4 hours then they'll start to cool. At minimum, they need to be reheated every 12 hours to keep the eggs from getting too cold."

"How are we to choose which of our eggs go and which die?" The woman asked with sad eyes.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Aaron said.

"We were thinking, four drakes, eight compartments in each container," Willow explained. "Each drake gets two compartments in each container. We need as much genetic diversity as we can get. Pull from as many different clutches as you can."

The woman's face fell more and more as Willow spoke. Other dragonesses began to gather around, casting glances at eachother and pawing the ground.

"What my highly logical wife is saying," Aaron cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Is that we have made as many of these as our resources will allow. We know it's not enough. We hope we won't even have to use it. But, should we have to, we need to do what is best for the future of the clan. These incubators give your eggs a better chance than they've ever had before. We wish we had more to offer."

The woman's shoulders heaved with a sigh. "I understand."

In another cloud of black vapors, her form dispersed and returned to the shape of a dragon.

Back in the tower, Willow sat in front of the fire place in her room thumbing the pages of a leather bound journal mindlesslesly as she stared into the flames. Aaron came around with two steaming mugs in hand. He set one on the coffee table and took the chair across from her.

"They know you've gone above and beyond for them," he said softly.

"We went above and beyond," Willow smiled weakly. "How is it you relate to them so much better than I do? I was raised with them. I've read the journals of every keeper going back to the first World War. I know their entire history."

"Maybe you don't need to relate to them," Aaron said. "You understand them in every litteral aspect. You've studied them. You're the first veterinary doctor to get a look at these animals and understand their physiology. You're the one that figured out the drogonesses needed a higher fat diet during breeding season."

"Much to the misfortune of a couple whales," Willow recalled grimly.

"The drakes didn't know that they're endangered and felt very guilty about that," Aaron replied. "And they all laid six or more eggs. In previous years the average clutch was what? Four?"

"Four was actually the largest," Willow corrected.

"Will," Aaron looked at her intently. "I have faith that you, overly calculating mind and all, are exactly what the dragons need."

Willow smiled, "ever the optomist you are."

A knock at the door drew their attention. Wilhelmina, Willows Great-great times who knows how many grandmother stood in the door way. She was the elvish origin of the Hughes bloodline and the reason Willow and her predecessors were fated to be keepers of the endangered dragons. Physically she was a stately woman, seemingly ageless with elegant, long white hair and pointed ears, but she seemed to have taken her preferred aesthetic from the American west, sporting a button up western shirt, jeans, boots and a ragged cowboy hat that hung from its strap against her back.

"Roman has returned," she announced. "He wants to see everyone."

Down the spiraling stairs, the bottom of the tower opened into a make shift court yard. Four mountainous men stood on the far side debating loudly.

"Who are those guys," Aaron asked.

"Shaemus, Odran, Piran and Kellen," Willow answered quietly. "It's the drakes. They never take a human form unless it's dire."

"It's dire," a tall dark haired, tired looking man approached them.

"Uncle Roman," Willow wrapped her arms around him.

Roman reciprocated her embrace before pulling back to arms length, "I got the email with your incubator designs. They are brilliant. I brought more materials, but I'm afraid we might not have time to use them."

"The hunters?" Willow asked breathlessly.

"They know we are in Russia," Roman sighed. "There's rumors they can use satellites now."

"What's up with them?" Aaron asked.

"That is what qualifies for healthy debate among the drakes," Roman sighed. "To run, or to stay and fight."

"Coward!" One of the drakes roared. "Shaemus is right. We should stay and fight. Our numbers are greater than ever before. Our children have been training for this."

"Training, but they have yet to fight any real battle," another drake spoke up. "It could be a death sentence for many of them."

"They will all have to taste battle some day," the first drake argued. "Let them taste it defending their clan as we did in our youth."

"Debate is getting less healthy," Roman muttered. "I can't believe I married into a life where I have to mediate for creatures that can swallow me whole."

He squared his shoulders and approached the arguing giants. "Gentlemen, let us keep this civil. We are all just trying to act in the best interest of the whole clan."

"Saving this brood is in our best interest," the third drake spoke. "It's the largest we've seen in centuries. When they mature, our numbers will be so great that we would no longer need to fear the hunters."

"Kellen," Roman interrupted. "I can't help but notice that you haven't added your opinion."

The fourth and oldest drake stepped forward, "I think we need to take a recess," he said, nodding to a group of dragonesses gathered near by.

"We have babies," Whilhelmina said in a sing-song voice.

Willow's heart lurched with excitement. "Hatchlings? Already? I need my kit."

She sprinted back up the stairs to retrieve her veterinary kit.

"You guys go on ahead," Aaron said. "I'll wait for her."

Back at the nesting grounds, a group of dragons had gathered around a nest. The youngest of the drakes kneeled in front of the nest inspecting the hatchlings. Willow rushed to see for herself.

Six small, black, wide eyed dragons peered out from under a smoldering log.

"Three sons and three daughters," Wilhelmina smiled, "a prosperous brood indeed, Shaemus."

The new father was smiling proudly when suddenly his brow furrowed. He slid part way into the nest and reached deep under the burning wood.

"Come here little one," he spoke in a soft tone.

He extracted another hatchling. It was smaller than the rest but it struggled greatly against the massive hand holding it, throwing tiny sparks in every direction.

"Feisty little fellow," Roman laughed.

Kellen stepped forward. "Small, but he has a fighting spirit. Not unlike you the day you were hatched, Shaemus."

"He was that small?" Willow erupted. "He's the biggest of all of you!"

An amused smile crossed Kellen's face."Arguably the fiercest of us all. But, perhaps that's a father's pride talking." He turned to his fellow drakes. "This is what we are fighting for. These hatchlings are our future. When we are long gone, they will be the protectors and perpetrators of our bloodlines. Ingenious as the doctor's incubators are, there isn't enough room. They're a fail safe at best."

The drake that had argued for running stepped forward to look at the hatchling in Shaemus's hands. Now calm, he gazed around at his admirers.

"I suppose it's hard to argue with a face like that," he sighed. "Does this future leader of dragons have a name?"

"Adonis," Shaemus said proudly.

He gently placed the hatchling back into the nest.

"We have preparations to make," Kellen nodded to Roman and Wilhelmina.

As the drakes and Whilhelmina and Roman walked away, Willow stepped forward, nodding politely to the dragoness standing beside the nest.

"I just want to take some readings and look them over," she assured her as she kneeled down and opened her kit.

"What are you thinking?" Aaron kneeled beside her.

"A lot of reptiles are completely or at least mostly independent once hatched," Willow said. "If I can determine their needs, maybe we can rig together a safe method of transporting or hiding them if need be. In a lot of the journals, they said that hatchlings forced to leave the nesting grounds too soon became stunted. So, they must at least need warmth and probably lots of rest."

"They're awfully cute," Aaron noted.

Willow looked up at him. His blue eyes sparkled as he looked down at the hatchlings. He looked back up and met her gaze, eyebrows raised.

"I know what you're thinking," Willow turned back to her work. "We have focus on making sure this brood survives."

"And after that you'll begin studies on the growth and development of young dragons," Aaron said. "And then the social development of male and female dragons and then the sexual development of female dragons…"

"What are you saying?" Willow asked.

"There's no such thing as 'the right time'" Aaron said. "Are you just going to keep dodging this until our ship has sailed."

"What happened to your optimism?" Willow sighed as she gently lifted one of the baby dragons out of the nest and began inspecting it.

Aaron fell silent. Willow felt a pang of guilt. She had to admit, he was right. She had been using the dragons as an excuse to avoid the conversation of starting a family for far too long. But, this was a critical time. They would all be putting their very lives on the line if the dragon hunters showed up.

"We'll talk about it when this is all over," she said softly. "I promise. After all, whatever I may lack in maternal warmth, I'm sure you'll make up for as a doting father."

Aaron grinned brightly. "I bet you're even prettier with a pregnancy glow about you."

"Cheese ball," Willow giggled. "Hand me my Laser thermometer. We got work to do."