Wyverns

Wyverns, the most repulsive of creatures, at least according to Valencia Darin. She never did like them, despite the history of riders in her family. The thought of their menacing teeth and hot breath being anywhere near her face made her shiver.

Their talons were the worst part, always scraping on the stone of their chambers, never silencing. Countless nights Val was kept awake by those strokes and the rustle of their wings as they restlessly paced. But Jay, Val's younger brother, adored the creatures. He practically begged their mother to let him fly, but he was far too young.

To Val’s dismay, she was precisely the right age, thirteen. She was about to be paired with her very own wyvern, a baby, whom she would raise to become strong and, together, they’d learn to fly. That was tradition. No matter how Val felt, she would follow through. There was no other choice.

Countless Darin’s before her had completed just the same task. Val knew not to disappoint her mother nor the rest of her family, but the entirety of the situation terrified her.

Even more so than the wyverns, heights churned her stomach. She much rathered to remain on the ground, stable, safe, secure. Up there, in the clouds, safety lacked, and Val couldn't fathom placing all of her trust in a rat consuming beast over a thousand feet above the ground.

Val's mother had told her one week. Seven days until Marn, her mother’s wyvern, birthed her first set of babes. With wyverns of her kind, only one or two were likely to survive. The eggs, if healthy, hatched mere days after they were laid.

With each passing day, Val grew more anxious. Of course, she’d grown up surrounded by wyverns and experienced riders, she'd learned from the absolute best. Still, she felt something missing, as if she didn't truly belong. Out of place, she seemed, and she couldn't figure out why. A large part of her yearned to swap places with her brother, who would've found this so much easier.

Val sighed and observed herself in the mirror. Due to her anxiety, she’d shed a few pounds and her cheeks had slimmed, her chin being portrayed even sharper than usual. Her dark hair fell just past her shoulders, ebony and wild. Eyes of emerald appeared empty, which made sense, as she didn't quite know how to feel.

Val ran a hand through her hair, turning away from the mirror. She sat on her bed and pulled on her training boots. Her instructor, Uncle James, had been working her roughly the past few weeks, “You can never be over-prepared.” He'd said. No, Val thought, but you can certainly be incomprehensibly sore.

As she stood, a knock sounded from her door. Val scurried to open it, baffled at how early he was-the sun had only just risen- but eager not to keep him waiting. She opened the door, to complain to James, but instead found her brother standing before her with disheveled hair like her own, peering up at her with their long-departed Father’s bright, blue eyes.

“Valencia!” he squealed. “They're coming!”  He dragged out the latter of the words as he whirled in a circle with his arms spread wide.

“Who’s coming?” Val asked, knitting her brows.

“The babies!” he yelled, “Marn is laying her eggs, they've come early!”

Val’s stomach flipped in response. She ran quickly into her bathing room and retched into a bucket that she normally used to transport bathwater.

“Val?” Jay called after her. “Come on! They’ll be here soon!”

Val wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood, legs wobbling. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before daring to step back out.

She returned to her brother who, once seeing her, pivoted and sprinted down the hall. “Hurry up Val!” His voice lowered as he ran, “You don't wanna miss it!”

Val trudged down the hall, the excitement of her brother having no effect on her unwillingness to see a birthing Marn, and left through the back door.

~

Marn laid on the stone in the centre of all the cages, curled in on herself and breathing heavily. She was a large wyvern, with deep aqua scales that ran along her skin. Silver eyes remained transfixed on her eggs, never glancing away. Three of her bronze coloured eggs were placed on piles of hay close by and Mia, Val's mother, observed them and Marn with pride.

Her smile fell when she saw her daughter and immediately anger flared behind her eyes, identical to Val’s. She didn’t hesitate to scold, a snarl quickly enveloping her features.

“How could you miss it?” she demanded. “This marks the beginning of your path, Valencia!” She jabbed a finger toward the ground. “From here on out, convenience is neglected.” She stepped forward, her adorned red robe swinging with the movement. “This attitude ends now, understood?”

Val nodded. “Of course, Mother. I was just-” Val paused, her tongue falling limp. A million words could have followed; sick, scared, anxious, nervous, or even doubtful. She wasn't sure which one to say. Mia huffed and strolled away.

~

Only one survived. One golden coloured egg, tall and bold. It intimidated Val, the way it stood so entirely still, but somehow, that led to a sort of admiration for the beast.

          The others had cracked mere days after they’d been laid and a form of dark liquid had seeped from the slits until they caved in on themselves. Her mother had cried, but Val unflinching watched as they died, fazed only by how quickly it happened. One day they were healthy, and the next, they were gone.

The survivor outlasted its siblings now by twenty days. It held promise, her mother had said. It would grow to be strong.

Something told Val otherwise. She didn’t know why, but the egg’s statute form had her doubt Mia’s words. A few weeks later, Val’s instincts proved right. The babe was progressing slowly, too slowly, and they wondered if he’d ever fly properly or if even at all.

All of Val’s studies on the theory of flight would be useless if this wyvern didn’t survive. The species was dying as it was. God knew when she’d get another chance.

The wyvern hatched after fifty days, but still required lots of aid to survive. For the first few weeks, Val and most of her family tended to the creature, one of them staying with him at all times.

Val watched as the wyvern slowly gained strength and felt a small surge of hope run up her torso.

~

Val was gratefully distracted from the constant worry of her wyvern when her cousins came home. They’d been gone for six years. The majority of the family had thought they’d never return, but here they were, with something new, yellow, and curious.

Wyverns had been around for centuries, they were the only means a human could fly. The Darin’s, especially, couldn’t fathom a life without them, without flying.

That’s why Val’s cousins, Tina and Gale, had branched off on their own in hopes of preventing at least one of their fears, a life without flying.

Tina and Gale were sisters and had grown up just as Val had, but when they’d come of age, there were no new wyverns available. Both of them, in fact, were saddened immensely by this. Flying was in their blood.

Once reaching adulthood they left the safety of the village and, together, began collecting various materials.

These materials were brought to most blacksmiths and the girls first made a wooden membrane, then slowly added parts, such as stringers and nails. 

Eventually, they had crafted what they called, “The Glider”. It had no means of propulsion and so it glided like a wyvern that never flaps its wings, using thermals and updrafts to keep it aloft.

Val gaped at the invention that now stood before her. The wings terrifyingly precarious, but so very streamlined. 

They had painted it yellow, like the sun, and there was a hole in the bottom of the seat, or lack thereof, for your legs.

Tina stood within “The Glider”, beaming, her brown locks pulled tightly behind her head, while Gale stood proudly beside her, fingers laced below her abdomen.

“We no longer have to worry if the wyverns go extinct, or even if their numbers lack,” Gale began.

Tina picked up, “Now we have “The Glider”. It will bring you from the highest of mountains to the shortest of banks.”

“Anywhere you please,” Gale added.

Val gulped. The contraption looked even more unsafe than the wyvern. There was no way a Darin could ride in that, they’d surely die. 

And yet, Tina and Gale remained standing, absolutely fearless.

“Have you tested it?” Mia demanded.

They both nodded. “Of course, Aunt Mia.” Tina smiled. “The farthest we’ve gotten is fifty-six feet, but we’re rapidly progressing I assure you.”

Mia appeared unimpressed, frowning. “Must we march to the highest of hills in order to get anywhere at all?” Mia scanned the family, meeting each pair of eyes. “Don’t any of you see how dangerous and impractical this is?”

Val considered this. Yes, they were dangerous indeed, but not entirely impractical. Of course, the new mode of transport would require more work, but if the wyverns did one day cease to be, at least the possibility of flight for the Darin’s wouldn’t be doomed to the same fate.

“It certainly won’t remain like this,” Gale assured her. “This is a mere first trial model. We’re looking forward to the future.”

“Even so, what we have now is, dare I say, incredible,” Tina explained, passion fueling her words. “I believe we can only go up from here, in progressing “The Glider” and reaching new heights.”

“I’m quite unsure about this,” Val admitted. “But, I think what you’ve done so far is very impressive. I'd love to see you progress further.” Val offered a small smile, memories of Gale and Tina resurfacing from her childhood. They’d always made her feel like a princess.

Mia sneered. “As if what you think matters as of now.” She laughed, air catching in her throat. “You need to focus on your wyvern, let me deal with this nonsense.”

Val could practically feel the anger seeping from the girls. They looked at each other for a moment before shooting hard stares at Mia, disappointed and furious all at once.

Despite this, they remained silent. They quickly diverted their gazes back to “The Glider”, frowning. 

Val hoped for the sake of flight that her mother hadn’t jeopardized Tina and Gale’s mission with simple words.

Val watched her mother roll her eyes back to the sky and blink away tears of anger. Often the Darin’s did this when a conflict enlarged to a point where regretful words may be exchanged. They’d take a moment to breathe, possibly even leaving the issue behind.

But something told Val this issue wasn’t going anywhere.

Mia sent her daughter back to attend to her new responsibility. Val left without a word, offering a mere apologetic smile to her two favourite cousins.

~

Val gently stroked her wyvern on the head as she thought of “The Glider”. She’d worked up the nerve to touch her prodigy only days ago and now found a sort of comfort within the action. Of course, Val remained terrified, but a part of her wanted the wyvern to be okay. Despite her fears, she still yearned to have her chance and follow in her mother’s footsteps, no matter how she disagreed with most of her mother’s actions.

Val grew close to the wyvern rather quickly, she even named him herself without needing assistance from her mother or even James. She called him Dawn as he would rise just as the sun did every day.

Dawn grew close to her too, every morning he stood by the door, awaiting her arrival. Like a dog, he would spin for her, the best he could, even though his tail had a crook in it that only slightly eased as he grew.

She'd feed him breakfast each day, no matter how his meals turned her stomach. Dawn was her responsibility now and hers alone.

As time went by and Dawn grew and grew, Val saw the same promise in him that Mia did in the eggs when all Val saw in them was burden.

The day Dawn was large enough to bear Val’s weight, they went on walks. That's how it always went until the creature decided to flap its wings.

It took longer than usual for Dawn, but he got there. Ten days after Val turned nineteen, they hovered above the ground. Not long after, they flew low across the fields.

Amongst her training, Val continued to think of Gale and Tina, and what happened with “The Glider”.

Mia had sent them away, saying only to return if their project held promise. It was as if Val’s mother couldn’t accept any sort of change.

Val believed in her cousins and she truly felt they’d succeed. They just needed time. And once they perfected their invention, even more Darin’s would fly and, perhaps, the adventure of flight could extend further, to anyone else who craved it.

For now, Val stuck with Dawn and she prayed he’d soon fly. Her anxiety was replaced with anticipation as she could not wait to feel the air kiss her skin in such a way to let her know there was nowhere else she was required to be, no matter her past doubts. These few years had taught her that nothing in the whole world compared to flying. She no longer felt out of place. Stories from other Darin’s inspired her, she yearned to create her own.

Their first true flight was the best day of Val’s existence. She saddled Dawn the same way she did every day, not knowing that this, this was where her journey would truly begin. 

Val climbed on her best friend and ran a hand along the crown of his head, listening as he groaned.

Val could no longer understand how she’d once loathed these creatures. Now, all she bore was love.

They paced away from the cages and approached the training area. She guided Dawn in circles along the path, following their usual route. 

They’d stray far from the cliffs on most days, but today Dawn was feeling adventurous. Today, Dawn was ready. 

To Val’s surprise, he flew low over the grass and then dipped his foot over the cliff. She bit her lip, her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

Dawn dropped, ten, twenty, forty-five feet, then he rose. Val gripped the saddle tighter than she’d ever held anything, the knuckles of her hands as white as snow. 

Emerging from below the cliff, Val’s ebony, mad hair, flew behind her, her braids rapidly unraveling. She screamed at the top of her lungs, yelling to anyone that could hear.

She’d done it. Dawn had done it. They had flown together. And Val had never felt so very much alive. 

Now, they fly high, complete trust placed in each other. A force that is stronger than love bonding them together. Fear still haunts Val’s heart, but heights cease to bother her.

End.