The Kestrel and the Willow

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” The voice of Alder Grannick cut like steel, holding the crowd transfixed. His eyes swept slowly over the people in front of him as he spoke, reveling in their adoration. He continued, “You worked. You scraped. You fought. You earned every inch of this land through sweat and blood.” Enthusiastic murmurs of assent washed through the hundreds of people gathered around the stage, and I did my best not to roll my eyes. “And then...together…” he continued, throwing his arms out wide, “...we conquered nature itself!”

Right on cue, four dragons and their riders flew over the crowd. Roars and jets of flame split the sky in a dazzling display of thunder and fury. As I looked up, I could feel the heat from those blasts all the way on the ground. The crowd around me erupted into a din of wild cheers and whistles. The amber rays of the setting sun reflected brilliantly off of the scales of the dragons as they swooped and soared and circled around one another. The idea of using the most powerful creatures on the planet as little more than a circus act made my stomach turn, but there was no denying the breathtaking beauty in it. I allowed myself a moment to marvel at the grace and magnificent power of the creatures. I watched them carve up the sky with the same deep sense of wonder I always felt, until one dove close enough for me to catch a glimpse of the emerald collar it wore around its neck and I crashed back to earth. I was, after all, here for a reason.

Most people would see the tall, imposing figure of the man on stage and reverently address him as Mr. Garrick or perhaps just Garrick if you were especially wealthy, successful, or politically connected. To me, though, he was simply Alder. And right now he was just getting warmed up. “Yes, our dragon riders protect us from bandits and beasts alike, bringing never-before-seen peace to our humble town. But is that where we stopped? No!” He pointed with an open palm toward a cluster of somewhat dirty, suntanned men within the crowd. “How have your farms fared since we harnessed the wyrms to plow your soil?”

“Twice the yield in half the time!” One of them enthusiastically yelled back. Another cracked a joke I didn’t quite catch and they burst into a bout of hearty laughter amongst themselves.

“Mayor Plink," Alder swiveled on his heel and spoke to the sharply dressed man who shared the stage with him, albeit silently and much further to the rear, “how has our town’s expansion gone since we’ve begun using drakes to clear the land and ferry our materials?”

Mayor Plink practically jumped to the front of the stage at the question. “Faster and more efficient than ever! It’s amazing! Why just last week we were able to—” Alder held up a hand to cut him off and the mayor quickly fell silent, stepping back to his assigned place. Alder turned back to the crowd and gripped the polished banister in front of him, leaning so far forward over it I thought he might fall over it.

“And tell me, how have your shops, your inns, and your taverns fared since strangers have come from far and wide to see the city that has conquered the most dangerous beasts in all the world? How many have paid a premium just to say they have set foot in the Valley of Dragons?” The crowd positively exploded with cheers. Standing in the middle of the chaos was deafening, and I had to watch as Alder straightened, closed his eyes, and soaked it all in. If I hadn’t made a promise to be here I would’ve left a long time ago — hell, I would never have set foot here in the first place.

I ran my thumb over the ridged wooden handle of the multitool I kept in my pocket. It had been made long ago by a dear friend, but over the years I’d repaired, rebuilt, and modified it countless times. It was the first thing I reached for if I needed to loosen a stubborn jewel from its socket, carve an intricate rune, or shoo away a bird that came too close to my lunch. I had briefly considered leaving it at home — it had more than one knife tucked inside the hilt and Alder’s guards could technically call it a weapon if they were in a bad mood. But it was my good luck charm and my pocket just didn’t feel right without its familiar weight, so I decided to take my chances.

I needed to be in a better position after the big speech, so I pushed through the crowd to make my way toward the outside, closer to the stage. As I did, I looked up for the fifth time at the strange glass jars that dangled from cables above our heads. These cables wound their way across the field where the crowd was gathered, with dozens of odd glass jars gently swinging from them. If this was any other event I’d say someone put them up for decoration, perhaps to catch the shimmering rays of sunset trickling over the horizon. But this town meeting was hosted by Alder Garrick, one of the founders of Garrick Artificing & Trade Company — this man did not do things simply for aesthetics.

“So what do we do now?” Alder asked. “How do we possibly top what we’ve accomplished so far?” He straightened the collar on his robe, a deep blue made with only the rarest of dyes. “Well, my friends, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Behold!” He spun a quick about-face and made a signal to someone just off stage.

A giant black canvas curtain, that up until this moment I thought was merely the backdrop of the stage, fell and collapsed into a heap. Beyond it stood two enormous dragons with scales as black as a starless night. These were not the long and lithe water dragons that dwelled in the nearby lake. They were thick and powerful, from their piercing golden eyes to their twitching tails topped with wicked bone-colored spikes that fanned out at the tip. Around their necks were the two largest collars I’d ever seen. Manufacturing those alone must’ve cost more than the entire town paid in taxes for a year. The truly shocking thing, though, was the giant metal muzzles that were strapped onto them. The ends of the muzzles were connected to thick braided hoses that ran a short distance away to a metal contraption roughly the same size and shape as a carriage. This monstrosity was made of countless gears and tubes and all manner of parts I didn’t recognize. Its most distinctive feature was a tall tower that rose from the top, made of crisscrossing metal bars. At its apex was a sphere, polished to a mirror-like sheen where dozens of wires converged. The same wires that were strung over the crowd.

What had Alder done now? I didn’t like not knowing what was going on, it wasn’t a feeling I was used to. I didn’t have to wonder about this machine’s purpose for long, though. The emerald collars on the dragons began to glow. The twin goliaths inhaled deeply, paused, then unleashed torrents of flame into their muzzles, down the tubing, and into the machine at the other end. I was shocked that the whole thing didn’t simply explode at the sheer force of the dragons’ blasts, yet it held together. In an instant, the gears whirred like a weather vane in a thunderstorm. The pistons fired hard enough to shatter stone. One at a time, large runes began to ignite along both sides of the machine. Finally, the metal lattice atop the entire thing began to crackle with energy until it could no longer contain it and launched a steady volley of sparks off into the sky. I couldn’t tell more without getting closer, but it ran on a fascinating combination of mechanical engineering and magic. If circumstances had been different, I would’ve given anything to be able to pull it apart to see how it worked.

All eyes moved skyward. Above us, the glass jars began to flicker. Slowly at first, but then more steadily. Soon they were aglow with a brilliant blue fire unlike any I’d ever seen before. We were awash in a dancing blue aura and everyone, myself included, couldn’t take our eyes off these mesmerizing bulbs that burned without a wick or any visible source of fuel.

Alder let the crowd marvel at his latest miracle for a few moments before continuing. “What you see above you is a little something I like to call nightflame.” He gestured behind himself, waving dramatically. We take the raw power of our largest breed of dragon, the titans, and, using the miracle of Garrick Artificing technology, convert it into what you see above you. One blast from our titans will power these lights for nearly six hours. Just imagine. No more rationing oil at night in your homes. Taverns can stay open later. Do you want to smith and work and build late into the night? Now it’s possible.”

I looked around at the crowd to see their reaction. Many were still too focused on the lights themselves to have heard a word that was said. The tradesmen and business owners, though, were already excitedly talking amongst themselves. I looked back at the dragons, who were now being ushered back into their temporary enclosures by their “trainers”. More like captors. Even from here, I could clearly see those brilliant golden eyes. What I saw broke my heart. It wasn’t pain or sadness or even rage they harbored, but emptiness. No glint of intelligence, no spark of life. They were as dull as a trophy elk that had been stuffed and hung on a wall.

“So!” Alder said loudly, to snap the crowd out of their daze, “If you would like your very own GATC nightflame for your home or business, simply come speak to Mayor Plink and he will discuss setup and operation, as well as the associated fees. Thank you!” He took a final bow and disappeared offstage as the crowd rushed to form a line in front of Mayor Plink, who held a scroll that unfurled all the way to the ground and a quill with plumage much too large to be practical.

Of course. Garrick didn’t build anything he couldn’t profit off of, regardless of the consequences. Which reminded me, I couldn’t keep standing around here forever. I scanned the guards that surrounded the stage, looking for the one most likely to let me through. While several still stood at attention, one of them near the perimeter leaned lazily on his spear, still somewhat dumbfounded by the dancing strings of Alder’s nightflame lights. He’d do.

I walked briskly up to him and cleared my voice, trying to appear as self-important as possible. “Excuse me, sir. It is imperative that I–”

“Togail Kestrel!” The guard and I both jumped and looked to see Alder Garrick himself making his way along the side of the stage to me. It’d been over three years since I’d seen him up close, and yet he somehow looked younger. He flashed a wide smile. “It’s been far too long! Come on, follow me, we have so much to talk about.” He waved me back and I patted my pocket as I slid by the guard. Looks like my good luck charm was working overtime today.

My head was spinning as I followed him toward the back of the stage past the buzzing of his entourage. One by one they came up to congratulate him on the speech or hand him some kind of report that he would glance at, nod, then quickly hand back. I hated the jealousy I felt rising in my gut. All this success, all this power, and I could’ve been a part of it. But I would’ve hated myself for it. That was the difference between Alder and me. The man didn’t know the concept of self-loathing. If he did, the wealth and power must’ve made for an effective enough salve.

We finally made it back to a quieter area, a hundred or so yards away from the stage. To my right, I saw the titans laying in their massive cages and being prepped to be transported back to whatever holding facility Alder had brought them from. I kept my eyes on them as I steeled myself to deliver the speech I’d been rehearsing since last night, but of course, Alder beat me to it.

“Why’d you come today, Togail?” It wasn’t a threat, but a genuine question. “I have to admit, I almost lost my train of thought up there when I saw you.”

“You saw me? I was shocked. He hadn’t given even the slightest inkling that he’d noticed me in that crowd.

“From the moment I stepped on stage.” Alder reached deep within his tailored coat and produced a silver flask with the Garrick Artificers logo engraved on the front. He took a deep draw and then extended the flask toward me. I declined, shaking my head. The last thing I needed to be for this conversation was drunk. He shrugged and took another sip before returning it to the deep recesses of his expensive robe. “But after all this time, why did you come today? Did you know about all this?” he nodded toward the engine that was filling the evening air with the chugging of machinery accompanied by a persistent low-pitched buzz.

So that’s why I was ushered back so quickly. Alder thought someone was leaking company secrets. It was somewhat gratifying that he still thought of me as competition. “No,” I answered honestly, “ I had no idea any of this was even possible. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

I could see in Alder’s eyes that he was trying to decide if I was telling the truth, but it didn’t take long. We’d worked together long enough for him to know I was a terrible liar. He smiled that winning smile again. “Thank you, Togail, that means a lot coming from you. If you want, I can show you how the generator works. It will astound you, the things we’ve been able to accomplish.” He put his arm around my shoulders to guide me back but I planted my feet and held firm.

“It has to stop, Alder.”

“What has to stop?” he said, feigning confusion.

He knew very well what I meant, but he just wanted me to say it. Fine. “The dragons. You have to free the dragons.”

Alder chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “You’re still hung up on that? Togail, I was hoping you came today to make amends and move forward. Garrick Artificers just isn’t the same without you.”

“Considering it used to be Garrick & Kestrel Artificers, that’s true.” I knew I was getting sidetracked by petty personal issues but I couldn’t help it.

“You’re the one who asked for your name to be removed from the company.” Alder wagged a finger at me in the most effortlessly condescending manner possible.

“Because I didn’t want my name associated with slavers!” I shot back. “Those dragons are intelligent, sentient creatures and you’re treating them like guard dogs and pack mules.”

Alder’s eyes narrowed and though his body was relaxed I knew that behind that friendly businessman persona was a dangerous predator. “Please. Togail. This fascination you have with these creatures is unhealthy. They are animals. Yes, just like guard dogs and pack mules. And you know what? That’s ok. Guard dogs and pack mules have much better lives than wild foxes and stray donkeys. They are fed, sheltered, and kept safe. What more could you possibly want?”

“To be free!” I said louder than I wanted to. Behind us, a couple of security guards had taken notice of our little discussion and were slowly making their way over. “They deserve to live their lives like anyone, not be subjected to the whims of whatever will turn a profit.”

Alder stepped in close and lowered his voice. “Don’t be ridiculous. And besides, let’s say I set them all free tomorrow. Then what happens? I’ll tell you. The progress we’ve made, the prosperity the people of this town have enjoyed vanishes. All so you can selfishly pacify your guilty conscience because you’re the one who invented the collars in the first place.”

“I didn’t design them for slavery and you know it.” I wanted to flip open my multitool and stab a screwdriver right into Alder's smug face, but the guards were getting closer and ultimately, that wouldn’t solve the problem.

Alder took a step back and crossed his arms. “And how did that work out, hm? We spent nearly a whole year of funding and wasted mountains of materials for you to chase down a pet project that wasn’t going anywhere. That was never going to go anywhere.”

“They work! I know they do!” I blurted out and immediately regretted it.

“How?”

“Because,” I stumbled. “Because I just know it. It’s possible.” The guards were just a few paces behind Alder now and I was sensing that I had run out of time. I hadn’t really thought that this would work, that I could talk Alder Garrick into a morally correct but financially foolish decision, but deep down I had hoped for a miracle.

Alder sighed, apparently seeing the defeat on my face, even if he didn’t fully understand it. “I still think you should come back. The people I have now…they just don’t think like you do. They lack imagination. I can’t put your name back on the company because of how it would look, but I can pay you handsomely. I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re doing quite well.” There was that smile again. The predator had gone dormant for now.

Every fiber of my being wanted to say no. To tell Garrick where he could shove his job offer. To not give him the satisfaction of turning his one-time partner into his prize employee. But I knew if I said what I was thinking that would be it. The guards would walk me back to the front of the stage and I’d never have an opportunity like this again. “Fine. I’ll come back.”

“Really?” Alder’s eyebrows went up. It wasn’t often that something surprised him.

“I could use the money.” That wasn’t a lie. I’d taken on odd jobs making trinkets for merchants and mercenaries over the past few years, but never had anything steady. It would also alleviate any suspicion about my change of heart.

“Fantastic!” Alder pulled me into a tight embrace, then brought me to arm's length to look directly into my eyes. “This is wonderful, Togail, truly wonderful. Today has turned out even better than I could have hoped!” Back near the stage, one of his many assistants was waving to get his attention. “Ah, well. I must be going, but I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. That is unless you had plans?”

“No. No plans.” I answer flatly. Alder hardly waited to hear my reply before speeding off back toward the stage to take care of whatever the latest crisis was. Well. I had thought I was going to get kicked out or at the worst arrested, but never would I have considered tonight going like this. This actually felt worse. With nothing left to do, I started the long trek back home.

By the time I got to my little cottage on the hilltop, the moon was creeping up into the sky. I stopped and looked at my humble house bathed in the moonlight and felt grateful. My workshed off to the side was a mess, per usual. The weather had been beautiful lately and I’d been working outside, which also meant there was a smattering of tools, wood, iron, and the occasional jewel scattered about. If I had been anyone else I might’ve been worried about thieves, but most criminals knew better than to steal from artificers. Those in my line of work were notorious for booby-trapping their workshops with bombs, sleeping gas, or much worse. I, of course, didn’t, but the threat alone was enough to keep people away. Besides, I had ways of tracking down anything that went missing and I was far from helpless.

I stepped inside and collapsed into my favorite chair, the stress of the day was catching up to me and I could feel my muscles ache with the tension I’d been holding in them. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, contemplating whether I wanted to start a fire, eat, or just go to sleep right there. I started to doze off when I heard the sound of claws tapping on the hardwood from the other side of the room. I opened my eyes. Across from me was a bright green dragon, no bigger than a young wolf, pacing back and forth with its golden eyes boring into mine. Once I showed signs of life, the dragon moved over to the stone hearth where a collar etched with sapphire stones dangled from a hook. A collar that, upon initial inspection, might’ve been mistaken for the same ones Alder used to subdue his dragons.

The little dragon slipped its head through the collar and lifted it off the hook by standing up on its hind legs. I watched, bemused, as it somewhat clumsily spread its wings out for balance before sitting back down and looking at me impatiently. I was exhausted, but there was no point in arguing. I reached over to the side table where my hand found a small circlet affixed with a sapphire identical to the ones in the collar. I placed it on my head and immediately felt the connection with the creature in front of me. It was a thrill I never tired of.

“Hello, Willow.” Willow, thus named because I found her alone under the long sagging vines of a willow tree, had been with me for two and a half years. Back then, I had brought food and water to her for three straight days to gain her trust, and to make sure that her mother or father wasn’t coming back to get her. From what I knew about dragons, they were fiercely protective parents and I wasn’t anxious to see them angry. I would sit under that willow tree for hours with her, just talking out loud and sharing whatever scraps of rabbit or pheasant I had managed to trap. I would head home at nightfall, fully expecting her to be gone when I got back the next day. And yet, every day when I came back she was there waiting for me. At the end of the third day, when I got up to leave, she got up with me. I didn’t say a word as we walked all the way back to my cottage; I barely even looked behind me for fear of scaring her off. But she stuck with me the whole way, walking just a few steps behind. And once we got home, she never left. Some might suggest that I rescued her, but the opposite is closer to the truth. I hadn’t touched my tools for six months, too depressed from my unceremonious eviction from my own company to do anything at all. But Willow reminded me that the work Alder stole and twisted was too important to go to waste. So I got back to it, which led us to this very conversation.

“How did it go?” I didn’t just “hear” the urgency of Willow’s voice. I could feel it too. That was a fascinating side effect of the telepathic bond enabled by the circlet and the collar. It took some getting used to.

“Not great,” I answered. “He didn’t go for it.”

Willow spun in a tight circle, something she did when she was agitated, “Did you tell him we’re alive? That we have feelings? That it’s not fair? You promised me you’d tell him!” Willow’s naivete might have been amusing if she wasn’t so upset.

“I did. But believe it or not, that wasn’t enough to convince Alder to shut down his entire operation. I told you not to get your hopes up.”

“I know.” Frustrated, Willow blew a puff of flame into the hearth, igniting the logs I kept in there. She flopped onto the ground in front of the fire and looked up at me. “Did you at least tell him about me? That we talk?”

“Absolutely not. This,” I gestured back and forth between us, “is incredibly dangerous for Alder and I hate to think of the lengths he’d go to to keep people from knowing about it. He’d probably sell you as a piece of farm equipment and have me thrown in prison for stealing their technology.”

Willow let out a heavy sigh and tiny tongues of flame licked out of her nose along with puffs of smoke that rose up into the air before fading. “I don’t understand humans at all.”

I slid off the chair and sat on the floor beside her, “That makes two of us.” I looked deep into the dancing yellows and oranges of the fire crackling in the hearth and thought back to Garrick’s nightflame, to the insane machine that created it, and to those two magnificent dragons whose only purpose was to ignite a string of lightbulbs every six hours. I wasn’t sure how, but I was going to fix this. “It’s not all bad,” I told her. “I got a job.”