Chapter 22: Regret and Redemption

As I approached the gigantic sleeping Dragon, part of me wanted to reach out and touch it. Though I was no longer a child, that childlike need to touch stayed with me for a long time. I wish I could say that I still view the universe with a sense of wonder, but all I can see now are my mistakes.

Ryan said nothing. Tork remained motionless, kneeling on the floor with his head bowed as if offering his neck to the guillotine. The silence only lasted a few moments, but it seemed to drag on for hours. Tork had consigned his fate; he would either spend his life in service to Ryan ... or let himself die. As Ryan stared down at the brave and noble beast, he saw all the pain and shame that had accumulated over the past five years.

Slowly, Ryan got up out of his bed and let out a few groans that were far from voluntary.

“No, you mustn’t do that!” cried Tork as he looked up. “Your wounds were serious! It will take at least a day before you can move!”

But Ryan had already gotten up and stood to his feet as Tork watched in astonishment. Ryan slowly made his way towards Tork, the Dragon bowed his head again as if in the presence of a king. Ryan now stood directly over Tork who awaited his sentence with silent detachment. Ryan gently put his hand on Tork’s shoulder. With the other hand, he brought Tork’s head up to face him. The young Dragon cried softly, his fierce face trembling in Ryan’s hand.

“I think I know why dad sent you to me.” Ryan had to take in a breath to steady himself. “In an instant, he was able to see your heart. I should feel ashamed of myself. It took me a whole week before I saw the kind of person you really are, only I didn’t want to see it because of my ego.

“In that instant, my father saw you grieving over the death of a nameless Elven girl; he knew that there was something different about you. I think that he sent you to me not so that I could forgive you, but so that you could forgive yourself.”

Tork was dumbstruck. “What? But...”

Ryan smiled reassuringly. “You made a mistake, yes, but you’ve atoned for it. I think dad knew that somehow. All the time that I was with him, he seemed to know everything that was going on, like some kind of mystical power. It could have been Elemency, but somehow, I get the feeling that it goes deeper than even that. The point is that you don’t have to feel burdened with your guilt any longer, for I am releasing you from your vow.”

Tork seemed like he wanted to object but couldn’t find the words to do so as he stuttered incoherently.

“If there is anyone at fault here, it’s me. I almost killed you because I was too blind to see what a cool guy you are.” Now, tears came to Ryan’s eyes as he remembered his cruelty. “For five years, I convinced myself that all Winged Dragons were evil demons spawned from hell, but I never considered that they thought and felt just like me. I am an ignorant brat. I beg you to forgive me.”

“No! It’s not my place ... I am unworthy!” exclaimed Tork.

Ryan laughed. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly the kind of thinking that drives people to evil in the first place.”

Tork’s reptilian features became perplexed. “You really think so?”

Ryan wasn’t exactly sure how he had come to such a conclusion, but the more he thought about it, the more he figured that it must be true. “Of course! When people can only see themselves as unworthy, they try to accumulate more power to make themselves feel better, sometimes in the worst methods possible like the way Hamma Steel did. If everyone would just be comfortable with themselves, there wouldn’t be any need for war, feuds, or hatred. Everyone would be content just being themselves.”

Ryan got the feeling that he had heard something similar from the old man, Zand, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was on a roll! “People who think of themselves as unworthy and don’t get power will just be victims for those that do. You need to have some sense of self-worth, otherwise, bad people will trample all over you without consequence, and you’ll become an accomplice for evil. I’m not saying you should be a narcissistic jerk, or anything like that, but you need to have enough sense of your own identity, or others will try to take that identity from you and use it for their own selfish purposes.”

Tork rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I never thought of it that way. From the moment I met you, you seemed to be the simple, earnest type ... but really, you’re quite philosophical.”

Ryan almost started turning purple. “Cut it out, you’re embarrassing me already.”

Tork smiled knowingly. “You still turn purple when you get embarrassed, don’t you?”

“How did you know?” asked Ryan, astounded by the Dragon’s insight.

“It happens to all the Dragon races. You know what that means, Ryan Uruks? You are not just a human. You are officially a part of the Dragon people. We are brothers, you and I.”

Ryan considered that proposal. “Does that make Grafael our brother, too?”

“Hmmm. I would say more like the eccentric cousin, but close enough I suppose.” Tork’s usual chipper accent had returned. With one claw, he wiped away the tears and mucus from his face. “Well, enough of that sorry business, what, what! Yes drama, tears, all very entertaining.

“But I think that our little Pyro Hands has had enough of that sorry business for one day. Yes, a good night’s rest and pleasant dreams should put you back into your usual, charming self. And by charming, I mean idiotic and strangely endearing at the same time.”

Something that Tork said stood out to Ryan. “Pyro Hands?”

“What?” stammered Tork, playing dumb. “I never said anything of the kind. Your delirium is interfering with the electrical messages in your tiny brain. More so than usual I mean. Enough of these hallucinations. Off to bed with you, or I shan’t bring you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” I don’t remember Tork ever feeling comfortable enough around me to insult me or scold me.

The Dragon then scooped Ryan up and plopped him in bed with surprising fluidity and grace. Ryan wanted to say more, but just being back in the bed made him realize how tired he felt, and he slowly drifted off into sleep.

Before Tork left, he said, “I’ve talked with Eramar, and I’m going to help you pass the exam in any way I can. You will be at a disadvantage in that most Grunts usually wait until they are a good deal older to take it, but since you are also a part of Squad 99 and will be required to go on missions, we simply don’t have the time to wait that long.”

Tork paused for a moment. As Ryan’s eyes fluttered wearily, he thought he heard Tork say something else.

“Thank you, Pyro Hands. You have released me from my prison. I only hope that one day, I may repay the favor ... and do the same for you.”

A few days later, Ryan was in the arena training with Eramar and Tork. Surprisingly, Thomas hadn’t remembered a thing of what transpired.

Or maybe not so surprisingly. I forgot that some forms of Elemency can make people forget. Ha! Wait. What if they did something like that to me so that I wouldn’t remember something I wasn’t supposed to? If they did, I wouldn’t remember what it was because I would forget what it was I was supposed to remember, or forget, or ... Ack! Thinking is hard!

“Would you stop daydreaming and pay attention,” called the irritated voice of Eramar.

Ryan immediately came to attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, Uruks. Now I want you to demonstrate everything you have learned from withdrawing your psions from High Oak, and pouring them back in,” commanded Eramar as he handed Ryan a piece of the fabled plant.

Ryan thought it would be easy to do since he had already done it with Hamma Steel. However, he still had to concentrate so that the wood wouldn’t catch on fire as he poured his psions into the small stick. When it started glowing pink, Ryan withdrew his psions, but more slowly than before.

Eramar nodded. “That’s about the level I expected you to be at. You still have a long way to go before you can control your psions effectively. If you wish to pass the exam, then you have to work hard to improve your skills.”

Ryan just thought of something he had forgotten to ask Eramar about his confrontation with Hamma. “In my fight with the Mystic, the High Oak that I carved into a knife grew in my hands. It caught on fire, but not in the way that made it burn up, and it had enough power to destroy Hamma’s Psionic Knife.”

Eramar nodded. “I know.”

“What does it all mean?” asked Ryan, ignoring the fact that Eramar had chosen to keep it from him.