Here Be Dragons: Book 1 of the Emergence Series

They left early in the morning so that they would be less likely to run into any other dragons; the backpacks Fathom held would have been difficult to explain, never mind the human on his neck.

Fathom followed along the edge of the mountain range, traveling north while occasionally adjusting his direction as he took note of certain landmarks that would have been completely meaningless to Pryce.

“Look down, where there’s no trees,” Fathom called out ten or fifteen minutes into the trip.

“Grab onto the chains, please,” Pryce reminded, and leaned over to look once Fathom did so. The chains were held in place with the padlock, but there was still some slack that Fathom could reduce by holding it in place.

Looking down at the ground, Pryce could see a decently sized clearing where dozens of black dots sat on a hill. Bringing up his binoculars – they didn’t work great with a face shield in the way, but it was better than nothing – he saw what could have only been the armorillas Fathom had mentioned. Their bulk was truly imposing; even from this great height their stout, hulking bodies only gave the impression of thick muscle and armor rather than clumsiness as one might have expected from such round creatures.

They passed these animals quickly, and though they did not flee Pryce was certain these vaguely ape-like creatures were watching Fathom carefully for the slightest indication of a dive.

Half an hour later they left behind the denser parts of the forest, and the land beneath them was starting to become more of a plain, especially as the mountain range fell away towards the center of the island.

“Gryphons,” Fathom noted, and Pryce peered over in time to see a small group of the creatures, one of which sat up with a piercing cry of alarm to notify the others of the potential danger. All of the avians stared intently at Fathom as he flew by, looking ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Pryce wondered if they had seen Fathom kill that old gryphon he had ultimately dissected, or if they were just naturally wary. Fathom did say dragons had a tendency to cull the populations of predators every once in a while, so perhaps that was the reason for their cautious gazes.

Later on, they saw black tortoises as well, creatures of great lumbering masses that dwarfed every other creature Pryce had seen thus far, with the exception of dragons. They were much shorter, perhaps 5 to 7 meters in length, but their jet-black shells were so round that their volume had to be far greater. They moved slowly, but not as slowly as Pryce would have expected from a creature of such size, and he wondered if that round shell hid any sacs of hydrogen gas inside of it. With so much possible volume the creature could be three to five hundred kilograms lighter than it otherwise would’ve been, at least according to the napkin math he had done in his head.

“Do black tortoises have hydrogen gas inside of their shells?” Pryce called out over the wind.

“Yes, lots of hydrogen,” Fathom answered easily, vindicating Pryce’s hypothesis. “Why do you ask?”

“They look too big to move, so I thought that if their shells had hydrogen in them then they would be lighter than they look,” Pryce said, glad Fathom had not seen him fist-pump in celebration.

“Look!” Fathom cried excitedly as he extended his empty hand to point at a herd of animals. “Those are the bulls I tried to draw!”

“Give me a minute, I’m trying to see,” Pryce said as he squinted through his binoculars at the dots in the distance. Fathom changed course to bring them closer, and soon Pryce could see the bizarre creatures in great detail. Their bodies were thick and powerful, but otherwise relatively normal. What was strange was their single, thick horn where Pryce guessed their noses should’ve been, along with the two arms that protruded from their shoulders to grab any leaves that they would otherwise have been unable to reach.

The arms were muscular and powerful, but compared to their tree-trunk like legs they did seem a bit thin and out of place. Pryce still had no idea what to call these creatures, though he did amuse himself with the possibility of naming them unicorns. If he used the proper root words to call them nose-horns, that would be…rhinoceros? Would plural be rhinoceroses? It didn’t sound quite right to him, perhaps he’d just call them unicorns for now.

After this sighting there was a stretch with nothing of particular interest to note, and Pryce was getting a bit saddle sore though he did not wish to voice any complaints. As it was, he had plenty of time to think to himself, and he realized how difficult it would be to establish an outpost on this island without the help of dragons, especially when the nearly-invisible raptors were just the beginning of the issues that they would face. They could get it done eventually, but it would take many lives and years before the island would be safe, and that was if ecological damage wasn’t a concern.

This line of thinking led him to wonder what would have happened if the crew had made it safely to the island. Would Fathom have approached them with so many humans milling about? It would have been more difficult, but Pryce was sure the dragon could have figured out some way to communicate non-hostile intent. This wasn't the first time Pryce imagined a future where all the crew got to know Fathom, where he had made friends with more humans than just Pryce. But these thoughts only lasted for a moment, and he shook them off with practiced ease. Dwelling on what-ifs was pointless, especially when considering the sort of history he would be making today.

“How much longer until we arrive?” Pryce called out. They were flying in another mountainous region, and a sizable river coursed below them, and the ocean was easily visible, making this an ideal location to live in Pryce’s estimate. “Fathom?” He tried shouting louder this time, but the dragon’s body only stiffened underneath him without answering.

“We are near the place she is supposed to be living at,” Fathom said, his uncertainty reverberating through Pryce from his position at the base of his neck. “I’m going to roar now,” he said, and that was all the warning he gave before he took a deep breath and belted out a roar.

Fathom might have dictated a few words through the roar, but Pryce could not hear them past the sheer force of the noise; the sound was deafening even from his position behind the dragon’s head and with his hands clapped over his ears.

“You could have given me more warning,” Pryce called, ears ringing and a little annoyed.

“Why? Just hear less – oh,” Fathom did not turn his head around, but his spines did twitch with an embarrassed air. “Can you not hear less if you want?”

“No, we can’t,” Pryce said, shaking his head as the ringing refused to completely go away. Those flexible ear-membranes were certainly useful, especially if they kept dragons from deafening themselves every time they roared.

“That is inconvenient, but I guess if you can’t roar then you don’t need to be able to do this,” Fathom mused as he flicked his spines.

“Well, lots of humans lose the ability to hear when they get old, so something like that would be very useful.”

Fathom turned his head to glance at Pryce, clearly about to express his surprise when he froze halfway. Pryce followed the dragon’s line of sight, and within a few seconds of scanning he located a dot in the skies winging towards them.

“Cover your ears,” Fathom warned again, this time giving Pryce plenty of time to cover his ears. This second roar was shorter and much weaker in intensity, though Pryce wasn’t sure if this was done out of protocol or consideration.

He cautiously uncovered his ears, and a few seconds later the other dragon – who was close enough to be identified as a deep shade of blue – returned the roar. Wordlessly, Fathom angled downwards and gently spiraled onto the ground.

The other dragon slowly mirrored his descent, though they retained their advantageous higher position for the entire duration of the maneuver.

Fathom landed a little roughly, jarring Pryce. He hadn’t completely recovered his lost stamina yet, and his wings and chest burned from the long flight, but none of that bothered him as he stared upwards at the dragon who he should have been able to recognize.

Even contracting his pupils didn’t help much, as she – the dragon was obviously female – kept the sun at her back, and all he could see was the silhouette of the cautious dragon.

“Is that Celeste?” Pryce asked, still sitting at the base of his neck.

“...I…think so,” Fathom whispered anxiously back to Pryce as the other dragon quickly descended, landing rather roughly. She was healthy and strong, with shimmering deep blue scales much like his own had been – perhaps even a little richer in color, though he would have never admitted this if he did not recognize her orange-red eyes.

«Who are you? And what is that thing on your neck?!» She demanded incredulously, breaking Fathom out of his reverie. Her eyes darted between him and his passenger, clearly baffled by what she saw.

Fathom ignored these questions. The cadence of her voice was all the confirmation he needed.

«...You have grown much,» Fathom said, wincing internally as the words came out far more nervously than he would have liked.

«I have grown? How would you…you are…» She trailed off, her eyes widening as she stiffened. «Father?» She spoke cautiously and approached with slow, wary steps.

«Yes,» Fathom said, his voice a touch rougher than normal. «It…has been many years, Ahnoumh.»

«But your scales – your wing!» Celeste blurted, tail lashing in disbelief just before she nearly dashed forward to close the remaining distance in a blink. He felt Pryce tense up at the sudden movement, but then the human relaxed, having understood enough of their speech to know who she was.

«Yes, my wing is healed,» Fathom said, holding the appendage out to the side so that his daughter could see it clearly.

Her gaze darted from wing, to bag, to chains, and finally to the strange creature on the base of his neck. «How…? What is…?» She stammered incoherently.

«Yes, I have much to explain,» Fathom said, smiling as he sat down. «But first, this is my friend, Pryce.»

Pryce waved a little awkwardly as Fathom introduced him. “Hello,” he said, sounding a little less confident than usual.

«He said hello, and he can understand some of what you say if you use simple words,» Fathom translated, ignoring the human’s inexplicable actions.

«He can understand us? What is he? Why is he your friend? And what is this?» Celeste asked in rapid succession, gesturing at the manmade objects that Fathom carried.

«You still ask so many questions,» Fathom chuckled as he experienced a sudden wave of nostalgia. «Yes, he can understand us, and he is a human, these are things that other humans have made,» he answered, gesturing to the man-made objects he carried.

Celeste stared blankly, then tossed her head in frustration. «You know that just gives me more questions,» she huffed plaintively, though her narrowed eyes belied her amusement.

«Yes, I know how you feel, do not worry, I will explain–»

“Maybe it will be easier to explain everything when we meet the other dragons she is living with, that way we don’t have to explain everything twice,” Pryce interrupted to suggest. “Or we could stay here for a bit if you want to talk to her first,” he added, seeing Fathom hesitate.

Fathom had indeed wanted to talk to Celeste alone – from other dragons at least – but it would be much simpler to only explain everything once, at least for the near future.

«Can you understand that? He speaks with such strange sounds,» Celeste noted as she eyed the foreign creature dubiously.

“She’s insulting me, isn’t she?” Pryce asked drily.

“A little bit, yes,” Fathom admitted. Turning to Celeste – who was shocked to hear her father speak in the human’s language – he asked, «You are living with Ghorrah-ǂ and Jooral-ǂ, right? Pryce said that it is better if we explain everything when you are all together, so that we do not have to explain everything twice.»

Celeste tilted her head, and seemed to consider this for a few moments. «That is a good idea. Did you bring any gifts for them?» Celeste asked tentatively.

«Yes, Pryce thought it was a good idea to bring some gifts made by humans. He convinced me to bring some as well,» Fathom added with not a small amount of reluctance.

«Well then, perhaps he is smarter than he looks,» Celeste said, eyeing Pryce appraisingly before distancing herself in preparation for flight. «Follow me, Jooral and Ghorrah are only two hands away.»

A ‘hand’ was a perplexing unit of measurement, but Pryce realized it was probably short for five beats, or roughly one minute. This guess was validated when they began to descend approximately two minutes later to land against a mountainside pocketed with cave entrances of various sizes.

Near a particularly large cave entrance sat two female dragons, their pale, vaguely milky grey hide rendering them rather difficult to see against the craggy mountainside. The two dragons were similarly sized and larger than Celeste – not by much, but on the scale of dragons a slight increase in size resulted in a significant increase in mass.

Even from this distance Pryce could tell which one was Jooral, marked as she was by the appalling angle at which her wing was bent. Seeing the injury firsthand, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the old dragon; flying was completely out of the question with an injury like that.

Both females watched their descent with a wary eye, and Pryce blinked in surprise when he caught a glimmer of sunlight reflected by something upon the horns of the two dragons. As Fathom got closer, Pryce was shocked to see that their horns were adorned by a thin band of gold.

«Hello, my name is-» Fathom called out as he landed.

«Who is this?» The unmarked dragon – who must have been Ghorrah – demanded, cutting Fathom off. Her nictitating membranes slid over her golden eyes as she bared her teeth and interposed herself between Fathom and Jooral.

«What is that?» Jooral asked interestedly, staring past Fathom to peer directly at Pryce. Her irises were a brightly colored orange-yellow, much like the color of a sunset that was neither late nor early.

«This is my father!» Celeste said hastily, stepping between the two before things escalated too far.

This did not seem to placate the aggressive female – if anything she became more agitated, while Jooral didn’t seem particularly pleased either as she redirected her gaze from Pryce to Fathom.

When this didn’t work Celeste hissed in rapid-fire speech that Pryce couldn’t understand. Ghorrah didn’t back down at all, at least until Jooral said something in what sounded like reproachful tones. Even pacified, she still appeared somewhat agitated, and she didn’t take her eyes off of Fathom for an instant.

«Is no one going to answer my question?» Jooral asked in a casually plaintive tone, breaking some of the tension.

Fathom relaxed a little, glancing back at Pryce for a split-second before returning his attention to Ghorrah. Her hostility baffled Pryce – Fathom had told him that he had never met Ghorrah before, so there was no reason to be so confrontational…unless this was normal for dragons?

«This is my friend,» Fathom said, almost hissing his words as he glared at the aggressive female, «He is a creature called a human who came from another land very far away,» he said smugly, knowing the reaction that this would produce.

A moment of stunned silence, then pandemonium.

«How?» Jooral demanded, the first intelligible thing Pryce heard with his ringing ears.

«The humans used big metal shells that float on water to come here, but Pryce was the only survivor,» Fathom explained.

«Metal shells? How did they move the shells?» Jooral immediately asked, apparently quite interested in continuing this line of questioning.

«How did they get so much metal?» Ghorrah asked skeptically.

«Their land has a lot of metal, that’s how they made this,» Fathom said, gesturing to his iron chain-sashes. This was certainly a strong argument, judging by the way the three females stared intensely at the polished steel chain links. «The metal shells are called ships, and the ship has things that are like wings which catch the wind. Pryce said the ship uses fire to push water, though I do not know how this is done,» Fathom admitted.

«I did not know metal could be so shiny, and be so beautiful,» Ghorrah admitted begrudgingly.

«This is…a metal rope? Yes, metal cannot bend, so they made it into these shapes…that is very clever,» Jooral marveled, looking at Pryce with something resembling respect.

«How many hue…humans were in the shell?» Celeste blurted out, having patiently waited for her turn to speak.

«Forty.»

«Thirty-nine humans all died?» Celeste asked, eyes wide.

«They…got sick,» Fathom said, glancing back at Pryce.

“It’s fine, you can talk about it,” Pryce sighed.

«Is he talking?» Ghorrah asked incredulously, drawing her head back while Jooral peered forth with palpable interest.

«Yes, he was just telling me that it is fine if we talk about it; humans have many friends, and he was very distressed when the other humans died,» Fathom explained.

«That is not surprising, it makes sense that if these humans can make things like this, then they are smart enough to talk,» Jooral said gesturing to the metal chains. «Can the two of you understand each other?»

«Yes, their language is a little complicated, but Pryce started teaching me fifty-one days ago, and now I can almost talk as well as a human. They cannot hear or make all of the sounds we can, so it is hard for him to learn to speak like us, but he can understand some of our words.»

«He can understand me?» Ghorrah asked as she peered at Pryce, who bemused her by giving her a thumbs up. Ghorrah snorted in amusement when Fathom explained what the gesture meant. «I do not think anyone was expecting the Far Land to have creatures like this on it.»

«They are not from the Far Land, they are from an island even further away,» Fathom clarified, surprising all the other dragons. “Pryce, can you bring out the globe? They are asking about where humans come from,” Fathom asked, sitting down and leaning over so that Pryce could dismount without having to fall too far.

“Yes, give me a minute,” Pryce said, unbuckling himself and landing clumsily, the saddle-soreness in his legs making him stumble.

«I have never seen a creature with so little fur. Even those with hide have at least some,» Celeste noted. «That thing around him is not his skin, is it?» Celeste asked dubiously.

«No, human skin is soft and weak, so they wear things made from plants or animal skin,» Fathom explained.

«He must have done a lot of things to it, I have never seen a plant look like that,» Jooral said, her pupils shifting as she inspected Pryce’s clothing.

“Here,” Pryce said, lifting the globe up. He tried not to balk as three interested heads loomed over him to inspect the strange human creation.

«This is called a globe, it looks like the world if you made it very small. The land Pryce is pointing at is where humans are from – Pryce, show them this island – now he is pointing at our land.»

«What is this thing made out of? It is so colorful, and detailed,» Jooral marveled. «And is this our land? Is the ocean that big?» Jooral asked thoughtfully. «This ‘gl…obe’ is also very interesting, and it spins so easily.»

«How do humans know this?» Ghorrah asked, again the one to express skepticism.

Fathom translated this question and waited for Pryce to rummage through the backpack. They had already agreed on what things to show them, so he was not surprised when Pryce retrieved the camera and walked twenty steps back to take a picture of all the dragons together.

«What is he doing?» Celeste asked, but Fathom only gestured for her to wait.

Pryce soon held up the freshly printed photo, and the three dragons froze at the sight.

«Is that…us?» Ghorrah asked uncertainly. «It looks like us, but…we do not have our markings.»

«Fascinating, I have never seen anything like this under the Sun,» Jooral said, visibly impressed as she and Celeste stared holes into the photograph.

Pryce held out the picture, and Jooral deftly snatched it up between two talontips before he could so much as blink. The human stared at his empty hands and took an involuntary step back a fraction of a second after the photograph disappeared from his hand. He checked his hands for scratches, and finding none he retreated to Fathom’s side, a little perturbed by the speed and precision exhibited by Jooral.

«Oh, I am sorry, Prh…Pryce, that was rude of me,» Jooral said sheepishly once Ghorrah pointedly nudged her in the side. She reluctantly held the photo out to Pryce, who accepted it warily.

“She said she is sorry,” Fathom translated, surprised at the ease with which the apology was given.

“Apology accepted, I was just surprised,” Pryce said, which Fathom translated. “Also please tell her to ask first, next time,” he added a little plaintively.

«Have you asked him how he can make this, and so quickly?» Jooral asked Fathom.

«Yes, but it is complicated. This is a photograph, and the thing that made it is a camera. The camera works by using materials that change color when light hits it, which makes the photograph have the same thing as what the camera saw.»

«I…think I understand, but I have never seen any material that does that,» Jooral said, sounding a little frustrated. «I would like to learn more about these humans. It seems they are very smart, even if their heads are very small.»

«I doubt he is smarter than you,» Ghorrah snorted loyally while Fathom translated for Pryce.

«Yes, my wings, but I cannot make any of these,» Jooral said, bumping her neck affectionately against Ghorrah, who leaned into her despite grumbling in discontentment.

Pryce took the brief moment of silence to look at the golden bands. He was dying to ask how she made those, but now didn’t quite seem like the right time. Fathom had told him that she could make clay wares, but perhaps hers were more sophisticated than he expected.

Deciding to focus on leaving a better impression, Pryce rummaged through the bag for his gift to them. The dragons watched curiously as Pryce extracted several crystals and shiny things Fathom had reluctantly donated, along with a ball of cloth which he unwrapped to reveal a twenty-liter glass jug that he had filled with alcohol. The amber-brown liquid gave the glass a gemlike quality, and it shimmered attractively as the sunlight refracted off of its contents.

“Fathom, you’re supposed to explain this part,” Pryce whispered pointedly, breaking an awkward silence as the four dragons stared at him – or rather the prize that he held.

“Oh, right,” Fathom muttered apologetically as he broke his gaze away from the gift. «Pryce said he would like to give you this glass container filled with alcohol as a gift, to thank you for allowing us to stay in your territory, and for letting my daughter live in your home,» he explained with audible reluctance.

«We accept, but why is the human giving us a gift because we helped your daughter?» Ghorrah asked, flattening her spines in confusion. «This alcohol is so…clear, like colored water, and this glass is far more beautiful than any I have ever seen.»

«More beautiful than the glass I make?» Jooral asked with feigned indignation, and chortled when Ghorrah stammered for a response.

«I told him that, but he said he would give it to me so I could give it to you, and he said that it was polite for humans to give gifts when someone helps a relative,» Fathom shrugged, ignoring their antics.

«I suppose there is no reason to not accept,» Ghorrah said stiffly, offended by Jooral’s joke.

«Yes, you should have started with that. I am curious to taste what alcohol made so far away tastes like, and by one who is not a dragon,» Jooral marveled as she carefully accepted the gift, ignoring the daggers Ghorrah glared at her with perfect grace.

«Where can we sleep?» Fathom asked a few minutes later, mostly on Pryce’s insistence. The dragon had flown for far longer than he had practiced since his recovery, and Pryce wanted to make sure he would get a proper amount of rest.

«You can sleep in a nearby cave,» Ghorrah said somewhat more amiably, the taste of the refined alcohol having softened her prickly demeanor.

«Ahnoumh can show you, she knows where it is,» Jooral added, with even more cheer than usual.

Celeste nodded, and leapt into the air once Pryce had secured himself onto Fathom's neck. It took only a few minutes of flight to reach this cave where neither dragon said anything until she slowed to a stop, hovering in place.

«Here’s the cave. If you need water, there is a river a few beats north,» she called out, hovering in place over a visible cave entrance.

«Thank you, Ahnoumh,» Fathom said gratefully, «Do you want to go-»

But she was already flying away.

«-hunting,” Fathom finished dejectedly, and landed on the mountainside in a subdued manner.

“I'm sure she didn't mean anything bad by it,” Pryce said once they had landed.

"Don't lie," Fathom snorted irritably. "She didn't ask anything about me, and look how quickly she left. It's obvious that she hates me."

"She looked happy when she realized it was you," Pryce countered.

"That...is true," Fathom sighed, flattening himself against the ground so that Pryce could dismount with less difficulty. "But why would she leave so quickly? Why didn't she ask me anything?" He asked, looking forlornly at the retreating figure in the sky.

"Maybe she didn't know what to say," Pryce suggested a little uncertainly. As someone who had never had children, he felt a little out of his depth to be giving parental advice. "Next time you see her, just ask her what's wrong."

"I can't just ask that," Fathom groused.

"Why not?"

"Because...because I..." Fathom sighed, lowering his head.

"...You didn’t ask her many questions either, are you afraid to know if she doesn’t like you?"

Fathom hesitated, then nodded weakly.

"So maybe she feels the same way. Knowing things won't change the truth, if you need to know, wouldn't it be better if you ask sooner rather than later?"

"I...I don't know," Fathom said, turning away.

"I know this isn't an easy decision to make, but I think you should ask her tomorrow," Pryce said, following Fathom into the cave.

"I will...think about it," Fathom said, curling up to go to sleep.

“Weren’t you going to go hunting? I thought you were hungry?” Pryce asked, confused.

“I wasn’t hungry,” Fathom mumbled beneath a wing. “Goodnight, Pryce."

"...Goodnight, Fathom."

[JOURNAL ENTRY]

Day 80,

Today went well, all things considered.

Ghorrah was initially hostile to Fathom, though Celeste and Jooral convinced her to stand down. No one was hurt, so I’ll consider that a victory.

I was quite taken aback to see that Jooral and Ghorrah wore jewelry – a single band of gold adorned Jooral’s right horn, while Ghorrah had a matching pair on her left horn. I wasn’t able to ask how she made it, but she must be able to make clay crucibles. I’m fairly certain that well-made terracotta can stand up to gold’s melting point, so it should be doable.

The meeting itself went about as well as could be hoped, but I underestimated how overwhelming it is to be asked questions by three dragons at once. At least the gifts were received very well, even if they seemed to think it was a shame to drink something so beautiful.

The two older dragons seem to treat Celeste well; they even shared with her some of the alcohol I gifted them. I’m not sure if Fathom is particularly possessive or they're particularly generous, though I’m leaning towards the latter. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why they allowed Celeste to live with them. It doesn’t quite fit with what Fathom told me about other dragons. They didn’t seem particularly territorial, or at least Jooral wasn’t, but perhaps that can be attributed to their age.

First impressions:

– Ghorrah is a bit prickly and suspicious, though I can’t say I blame her given the circumstances.

– Jooral was nearly the opposite of Ghorrah, she was quite friendly and expressed even more interest in human inventions than Celeste, though I think this might have been because Celeste was showing deference to the two older females.

– Celeste seems just as curious as Fathom, though she seemed oddly reserved at times. I imagine she has some many things she wishes to discuss with Fathom, hopefully they can get that resolved soon.

For now, Jooral and Ghorrah have allowed Fathom and me to sleep in a cave a short distance away from their own. I wonder if these caves are man made – or dragon made, I suppose. I’m no geologist, but there seem to be an awful lot of them around, too many to be completely natural. I should ask Fathom about this.

It’s good to see that Celeste and Jooral are both interested in humans and our inventions; future discussions have become much more promising.