The Scale of Famine

Rubacaus flew low over the pine and birch tree covered highlands near Venvolde. It was spring. The dampness and dew from the night transitioning into morning felt soft and refreshing on his scaly body. As the change of seasons dictated, there would be a meeting at the Draconus Council to discuss the old and the new. Rubacaus knew the humans would once again take up a majority of their conversation, given the circumstances. The resources of the surrounding area had not been plentiful in years. Several human societies had come forth to barter with the dragons; but with nothing to give, it was more of an attempted trade of words for resources.

Dragon societies typically pitied begging. Rubacaus couldn’t help but feel for the death and despair that would follow such strain and famine. Desperate people did desperate things.

The history between dragons and humans was tense considering how many hundreds of years it took for the dragons to have their own peaceful society alongside the human ones. Humans, at their core, did not do well with the idea of something as massive and omniscient as a dragon. Their size and intelligence made them a threat, though most dragon societies were nonviolent and just wanted to be left alone.

Rubacaus was a part of the Venvolde Dragon Order, whose city lay amongst the mountains that bordered the highlands near the human cities of Rhone and Laveet. Rhone, a large, sprawling city that bled north, was extremely populated and had both a highly acclaimed university and infamous marketplace. The government that controlled both Rhone and Laveet was also located there, and as such was typically known for being a more orderly city. Laveet was not held in high consideration.

The people of Laveet had no real leadership until the Rhonian government, through very little persuasion, invited their city to be ruled by Rhone. The promise of resources like food, jobs, and education was something the people couldn’t turn down; and, while the Rhonian government meant this exchange of power in earnest, the years had been strained. The weather had been so strange and aggressive the last few years that not only had crops been unable to flourish as they once did, but trade routes had been disturbed by mountain slides and rougher than usual seas.

The Laveetians were considered more of a runoff society to Rhone nationals, and meshing their societies together was met with more resistance than their new government acknowledged. Because of their lack of education, there was no way they were able to get into the universities, and having only worked with poor soil, their agriculture skills were lower than the marketplace would allow. So, when the resources became less and less, and tension more harried, the dragons sat back and watched this all unfold, unwilling to become involved with people that viewed them in fear.

Rubacaus, a young dragon of only 210 years, had seen this change unfold for two generations. The human’s inability to join together made him wonder how much longer the Council could go without taking action, or until they were affected enough to be forced to. Rubacaus pondered a lot when he flew.

It was past dawn, early spring, dewy and tepid. The air was chilly, but the sun was warm. Rubacaus lowered himself towards the ground to land on a cliff overlooking the highlands to relax his wings. It wasn’t long before he spotted a bright, red glow omitting from the ground directly below the cliff. It was small, miniscule, tucked away by a large boulder and obscured by the brush surrounding it.

The foliage on the hilly area underneath bent under the forceful gust his wings created as he gracefully jumped down to see what was glowing in such a peculiar place. Cautiously, he used a single claw to carefully move the branches of the bush back. It was a young human, so young that he could smell its newness to the world. It smelled sweet and had soft skin that had been pricked by the surrounding brush. He wondered if it could walk or talk. The young human blinked up at him, exhaling a noise that was in-between a gasp and a laugh. So, maybe it couldn’t talk properly? His human speech was rusty, but he made an attempt to communicate.

His words came out loudly and incoherently.

The tiny human looked up at him blankly and sputtered, then said something intelligible. Hm, Rubacaus thought, I don’t remember as much as I thought I did.

It was so tiny, so undeniably crushable, Rubacaus couldn’t imagine how it arrived at this bush or why. The glowing red light turned out to be a small blanket, made up of cloth and coated in some sort of element that Rubacaus was unfamiliar with, hence the glow. It felt very obvious.

He had never been near a human child and was unsure what exactly he was supposed to do with it but knew he couldn’t leave it here in the elements. Hopefully, it hadn’t been too long already. There was only one person Rubacaus felt he could trust with something like this; and, with so many questions unanswered, there was little time to waste. He delicately grabbed the red, glowing blanket covered child and held them in his hands, holding his claws in a way that protected them from wind or falling, and pulling them in close to his chest. With one pump of his legs, he propelled them both off of the ground and into the sky, soaring towards the dragon city of Vendvole.

***

Vendvole was built into the mountains neighboring the highlands, inset with grand pillars and richly carved walls featuring epic moments from dragon history. By the time Rubacaus arrived, the dew was beginning to lift, and the air was losing its frigid chill. There was only one place he could go; he had to avoid anyone seeing the small glowing parcel he held to his chest. He soared past the bend in the mountain and relaxed his wings to drift through a carved out stone riverbed that had stopped running water centuries prior. He was almost there.

Stephanie would know what to do with the small, squishy human.

One of the few humans that inhabited Vendvole, Stephanie was what the human societies referred to as “one of the kept,” but what the dragons referred to as a Commune. It was an honored position; not above or below any dragons, but more of a voluntary healer who helped their studies with medicine. They were required to learn the global dragon language of Drae and the particular dialect of Venvolde. It was open to any human that wanted to join the Venvolde Dragon Order, but it came at a price: they weren’t allowed to leave the dragons and return to the human society. This was a law unique to Venvolde, but not one that was brutally enforced and also never had to be. The humans who lived amongst the dragons had never wanted to leave. They didn't have to worry about the ills of their human societies; most people had big reasons for leaving and joining the dragons. They could still visit their families and friends but were unable to truly leave Venvolde.

Stephanie had been a Commune for the last ten years and was one of the most respected in her position, even though she was fairly new in the scheme of things. Only two other humans had become part of Venvolde after she committed herself.

Rubacaus landed as softly as his large body would allow in the mouth of a wide corridor that led into the mountain. The Commune’s portion of Venvolde was just beyond, comprised of laboratories, study chambers, a massive library, and their equally as large living quarters. They were welcome and expected to exist amongst the dragon population, but accommodations had to be made for all sizes of being.

It was late enough in the early morning that Stephanie would be in the laboratory already, working on developing a medicine for Dagnar, another dragon in the Order, who had come down with some sort of skin infection just the day before. It didn’t seem serious, but Stephanie seemed to think it needed immediate attention and set to making a concoction immediately. The laboratory wasn’t far from the living quarters, which Rubacaus had already passed. The door, which was large enough for something dragon sized to walk through, was cracked. The pully system that the Communes used to operate it squeaked slightly as the soft, worn rope accommodated Rubacaus opening it wider.

Stephanie was sitting on a stool, picking the leaves off of a blooming, white-petalled flower and tossing them into a wideset mortar. She looked up slightly at Rubacaus, and her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement.

“I wasn’t expecting to see anyone scaly down here this early. What’s the occasion?”

“Well,” said Rubacaus, “It seems I’ve stumbled upon something I don’t know what to do with.”

Stephanie placed the flowers down gently on the table next to the mortar. “Oh, and what’s that?”

Rubacaus, who had been protecting the babe softly still, unfurled his hand and extended it towards Stephanie, the young-human-thing blinking sleepily up at them and the red still glowing from the fabric that encompassed it. It appeared the human had fallen asleep; Rubacaus’s hands must have felt safe and warm enough despite their roughness.

Stephanie put a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp and furrowed her brows. “That’s a human child.”

“Is it a baby? It seems young.”

Stephanie got up silently and came over to gently pick up the child. She peered at the them. It seemed it was starting to recognize its surroundings were different, and its lip began to quiver. Stephanie made some cooing noises and stroked their cheek, and the child tucked their face inward towards her chest.

“They’re probably around the age of two. And to answer your question, this child is in-between a baby and a talking and walking child, they kind of toddle around as they figure it out,” said Stephanie, who had started rocking the young one gently. “Where did you find them?”

“Over near the highlands, southwest of Laveet. I’ve never seen humans over there,” said Rubacaus. “That blanket glows bright red. Why?”

Stephanie was still looking at the child and began to examine the blanket folded around them. “We certainly have a lot of questions to answer, don’t we? Let’s keep this between us…just for now.”

***

Stephanie had been hiding the babe for roughly a week in an unused room in the labs. It was located right next to the fireplace and maintained heat through the walls that separated them. The walls, made up of minerals and stone, were nearly soundproof; and between a fair amount of luck that the room was uninteresting to any of the Commune and that the babe was relatively quiet, Stephanie was able to keep them safe. She hadn’t discovered much besides that the young babe was female and definitely from Laveet. She was able to deduce their home through the blanket, which was made up from a fabric of something humans referred to as bunny bottoms. It grew with reckless abandon in Laveet despite the poor soil conditions, and was one of their only harvestable crops, so it was used for a lot of comfort-based items like blankets. The people of Rhone rarely used bunny bottoms, which they viewed as tacky.

The stitching of this particular blanket led Stephanie to believe that whoever made it was the child’s parent; it was interwoven with the strong, gossamer strands of winged-horse hair. It was a traditional blanket that gave Stephanie enough insight to presume that the child was Laveetian and at least born into some sort of traditional household. But why did their parents dump them in the woods? And what was the red glowing substance that coated the blanket? It wouldn’t come off, it almost seemed like it was entirely part of the fabric.

The babe wasn’t Stephanie’s only concern. Dagnar’s rash had spread catastrophically from his hand down his arm and to his belly. The scales were falling off and leaving open, red sores that seemed unable to scab over. Stephanie and the other Communes working on potions and creams for his ailment were beginning to become extremely worried. The laboratory was tense with flurried energy as they all pulled out every bit of knowledge they had on the matter of rashes and raw dragon skin. With no clue what started it or the course it would take, it was difficult to nail anything down. They didn’t even know if it was contagious yet or if any species could contract it.

It had been a week since Rubacaus had found the young child.

Today was the first day of three consecutive days of meetings for the Draconus Council. Rubacaus, at Stephanie’s request, decided to keep the finding of the child hidden. At least for now. The council had much to discuss in the ways of humans, since word had spread to the mountains of the havoc that was happening; nearly unspeakable things that had to be spoken. The Draconus Council had many informants, even some that were within the Rhonian government. Things never stayed hidden for too long.

Rubacaus entered into the chamber where they held their meetings. The ceilings were high-vaulted and glittered with what appeared to be stalagmites but were covered in richly colored amethyst crystals. The light shining in from the high windows created a stunning effect of bright purples that illuminated the room. Each dragon had a seat carved from stone that surrounded a grand table with a map of the surrounding area in the middle of it. There was only one chair that was carved higher than the others; it was for Krah. Krah had been Venvolde’s elected leader for the past 170 years.

By the looks of it, they were still waiting on him. Rubacaus stood behind his seat next to Nev and Titan. He didn’t have much to say to either of them, and stood stoically in his anxiousness. He wondered what exactly a good opportunity to tell the Council about the child would look like. Or did he even have to? Stephanie was involved now, so he had to be tactful.

Some of the other council members began to lower the curtains on the windows to block the sun from bouncing off the amethyst. Krah walked in seconds after, and everyone standing found their seats and waited expectantly for him to reach his and sit down so they could start their meeting. Rubacaus realized that Dagnar wasn’t present. The space created by the break in dragon bodies felt loud.

Krah had reached his seat. Everyone sat in unison.

“So, the seasons have agreed to change again,” Krah said in his low, steady voice. “And here we are with so much to discuss.” He looked around at each dragon’s face, lingering on Rubacaus.

“It goes without saying that there is a lot of uncertainty right now; but it’s not just Dagnar’s situation I’m referring to. There have been some disturbing reports from the cities and the lands just beyond our mountains.”

It was not unusual to discuss their relationship with the human population, but words like disturbing were typically not present. Stubborn was more likely.

“We need to discuss what desperation brings out of our human neighbors,” Krah finished.

Nev cleared her throat and raised an arm into the air. “Yes,” said Krah, calling on her. “I was sure with the amount of informants you have that you’d have some of this information pieced together.”

“A correct assumption,” she replied. “My informants have been coming to me over the latter half of a year with instances of brutality, which most of us are aware of on some level, given how the Rhonian’s have been with the Laveetians. But it’s the starvation I worry most about.”

The hall was silent. What was she talking about, starvation? This was an effect of the lack of resources; it shouldn’t be a surprise or point of interest.

“We have all seen what desperation can bring, but this desperation is vast and moves furiously and deliberately. It might be unlike anything I’ve heard of before, or at least, not in a very, very long time. It rivals primal tendencies.”

Cade, a younger dragon, spoke, “I think we’d all appreciate if you’d get to the point then.”

The air went out of the room. Krah looked at Cade measuredly, and then said, “I expect you won’t interrupt her again.”

Cade was silent but nodded his head. Nev continued.

“They’ve found food amongst…themselves.”

Whatever little air was left after Cade spoke left immediately. Rubacaus felt his stomach get tight as answers to questions he’d been mulling over came crashing in.

“There is so little food that people are starving, and particularly those in Laveet, those without direct access to Rhone’s already barren markets are making some questionable choices. Because of their vulnerability, the children seem to be dying first, and many families are making the choice to use this opportunity as a chance to eat.”

“What about the Rhonian’s?” said Laek, another member of the Council.

“It seems the Rhonian’s aren’t above this either but are more into scouring Laveet than sticking to their own city.”

“Anyway,” continued Nev, “for many families this isn’t a real option they want to consider, and they are taking their children to the woods and leaving them there in the hopes that they’ll find their way and survive. But of course, the underground network of Rhonians who’ve started capitalizing on this have begun to explore the woods too, since the children are young and ill-equipped. Same with desperate Laveetians. It’s something the Rhonian government is aware of but has done nothing about.”

This wasn’t a surprise. Historically the Rhonian government was much like any other, lots of talk and little action.

“This is something that we should all think about to discuss tomorrow,” said Krah. “It’s heavy, I know, and beyond our own, but we have to reassess our involvement.”

Each dragon nodded in agreement. Nev looked distressed.

“Now,” continued Krah, “to the business of Dagnar. The rash has not gotten any better, and I’m sure it goes without saying that his outlook is poor. The Communes think it may be contagious, so we are asking from here on out you remain separate from Dagnar until this is resolved.”

The meeting continued somberly. Normally, there was much drier political talk that was nearly sleep inducing; this was heavier than any of them were used to. When it ended, Rubacaus leaned over to Nev and asked to meet her somewhere private to chat about the scenario she had revealed. She agreed, and they decided to meet in two hours at the armory, a very rarely used building set into the farthest west side of the mountain. It overlooked the land that stretched towards the sea.

Nev was already there when Rubacaus arrived. She was staring towards the ocean and didn’t break her gaze when he walked in. He stood next to her and stared toward the ocean too. It was a minute before either of them spoke.

“How certain are you of what you told the Council today?”

“As certain as ever,” said Nev. “My informants come from both cities…and some of the families I’ve been acquainted with have become smaller, their situation of death a little more secretive.”

“And how often is it that children are left in the woods?” asked Rubacaus.

“More often than not. Famine and desperation create wild, irrational minds…but most people do not want to engage in such an activity. Abandonment is easier to swallow, even knowing that there are those that go looking for the weak.”

Rubacaus and Nev had always sat next to each other in council but had never been very close. He supposed he had no other choice than to trust her, because what else was there to do?

“What would be the likelihood of you keeping something private if I told you?” asked Rubacaus.

“Well, that depends on what it is.”

He paused, then said, “I found a young child in the woods. They were alive, so I flew them back here.”

Nev turned to look at him. Rubacaus continued, “I gave them to Stephanie, to keep them safe and out of the eyes and ears of everyone else. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to do. But I’m certain that the child I found was one of the abandoned you were talking about; they were wrapped in a glowing, bright red blanket. It was impossible to miss. It felt almost intentional.”

“This red glow…how bright was it?”

“Exceptionally bright, almost like a light.”

“Did it come off on your hand, or stay on the blanket?”

“I felt its presence on my hand, but it stayed on the blanket.”

Nev nodded, and said, “I think I know what it could be. There’s an herb that’s commonly used in traditional Laveetian households for medicines and foods, and I’ve heard of it being used on fabric, though I’m not sure for what. I’ve never been quite sure what it does, really, but its color comes from the bright red threads inside the pods of the frond flower. They only grow on the most southern edge of Laveet. So, maybe that’s where the child is originally from?”

“That would make a lot of sense. I’m surprised Stephanie didn’t figure that out. She knew they were probably from Laveet because of the fabric and stitching of the blanket, but she didn’t know what the red substance was.”

“It’s common to Laveetians,” said Nev. “It’s not common to us.”

The two dragons became silent again, each lost in their own new information.

“Do you think I should bring the presence of this child to the council right now?” asked Rubacaus.

Nev pondered. “No. I don’t think so. I’d wait at least until the meeting tomorrow. I don’t need to remind you that there’s a lot at play right now.”

***

The following days meeting never happened. Dragons never have council when there’s been a death amongst them.

It had been two days since Dagnar’s death. Venvolde was shocked at the seriousness of the illness that plagued him, which had run its course in less than two weeks. There were four more that had shown signs of infection that day. All were now quarantined. The Communes were trying to figure out what to do.

The child hadn’t been brought to light yet, and Stephanie was still able to hide them expertly. Humans did not seem to be susceptible to the skin disease, so that was at least one worry off the table when handling the babe. She and Rubacaus made plans to tell the council about the child during their next meeting, which would happen the following day, after Dagnar’s funeral by pyre.

That night, the smoke from Dagnar’s body reached into the clouds and drifted towards both Laveet and Rhone. The dusk was dark for all the cities.

***

The Communes did not typically join in on council meetings; but it wasn’t unheard of, so no one thought much of it when Rubacaus announced Stephanie would be joining them. She stood next to his seat as the meeting got started.

Normally, they would just pick up where they left off, but with Dagnar’s death and four more infected, there was a somewhat chaotic urgency in the air. It was settled that the infected would quarantine and that the Communes would work towards a solution. Beyond that, there were no answers and no possibilities. The topic switched to the Rhonian and Laveetian problems. Krah was about to start, when Rubacaus raised his hand. Krah nodded at him in acknowledgement and gestured for him to speak.

“There has been something that I have been wanting to bring to the council for a few weeks but have been unsure of what would become of it, which made me hesitate. Almost two weeks ago, I found a child in the highlands outside of Laveet.”

Every council member became visibly hyperaware. This was not what they were expecting.

“They were alive, so I brought them back here for Stephanie to take care of. She’s been hiding them for me as we’ve been trying to figure out why they were left in the first place. It wasn’t until Nev’s information that any of this made sense. And now, well, I don’t feel comfortable trying to find a place for the child where they came from, which has turned much more treacherous than usual.”

Stephanie raised her hand confidently. It startled the other dragons, who were hanging on Rubacaus’s words. Krah called on her.

“There’s more than that,” said Stephanie, “Actually, there’s one detail that Rubacaus left out. The child was wrapped up in a glowing, red blanket. It’s quite bright, and I think that makes it very clear someone wanted us to find them. The blanket itself also has a bunch of traditional Laveetian patterns and materials. It lines up with what Nev was telling the council.”

She continued, “The blanket itself, which is covered in some sort of Laveetian herb, has properties that we may find useful.”

“Yes, the frond flower strands,” said Nev. “Very common to Laveet.”

“Exactly,” said Stephanie. “After I was reminded of their existence, I went straight to the library to read up on their properties. We haven’t done much research on them in Venvolde, but their use is well recorded in Laveet, and while their literature is not presented very formally, I was able to garner a lot of useful information. Which, Rubacaus, since you’ve been in contact with it, you should be immune to the scale disease that’s been going around.”

“Why’s that?” asked Rubacaus.

“The Laveetians use the herb for a bunch of reasons, but one of its most notable uses in our case is that it stops degeneration. All degeneration. It’s actually kind of magical, it stops decomposition and decay.”

“Do you think that it would work on the illness that’s been spreading?” asked Krah.

“I do,” said Stephanie. “I took the blanket out to one of the gardens in the Commune area and rubbed it all over some of the dying plants. I checked this morning on them, and you would have never known they were so close to death.”

“Could this be a permanent solution?”

“What if this won’t work on scales?”

“How do you apply it?”

The room was thunderous with questions that spouted unadulterated from the throats of the dragons. Krah pounded a fist on the table, and everyone became quiet.

“Obviously, there’s a lot of answers we need,” said Krah. “Do you have the support of the other Communes?”

“Yes,” said Stephanie. “But none of them know where I got the blanket from. None of them know about the child.”

“Ah, yes. While I’m not happy that you two hid this from us, I can understand why you did,” said Krah.

Rubacaus raised his hand and said, “I put her in that position, so if anyone should be reprimanded it’s me.”

“Let’s settle this with a vote,” said Krah. “Who here feels that these two should be reprimanded?”

Only one dragon, Muscus, raised his hand.

“Well, it’s nearly unanimous that you aren’t going to be punished for your secrecy,” said Krah. “Now we have to decide what to do with this child.”

Stephanie cleared her throat, and said, “I have an idea.”

***

It was settled that Stephanie and Rubacaus would go to Laveet and try to find the child’s parents, but would return back to Venvolde, child in tow. The council was willing to extend an invitation to the family to become part of the Communes, but due to the nature of the position they did not expect them to be interested. The child would be raised amongst the Commune but would not be fully considered part of the community until they became old enough to decide for themselves. At that point, they could either leave or stay. Certain disciplines amongst the Commune would not be taught to the child until they decided if they wanted to live out their days there or not. There were certain things they had to keep to themselves.

The Draconus Council reached out to the Rhonian government to offer their assistance for the first time in at least a century. They offered flying across the seas in hopes of finding some crops that would help feed Rhone and Laveet; but the Rhonian government was being stubborn and refused since the dragons had rejected them in the past. The Council decided to close the offer in stubbornness.

The next few years held much uncertainty for the combined Rhonian and Laveetians; all but for one, a child who was slowly learning what it meant to grow up alongside dragons.