Orodruin kept a wary eye on Eiros and his new pet, ready, if he thought he was needed, to step in and subdue the struggling phytocat. But even at a month old, Eiros was almost twice as long as Orodruin, already displaying that he came from a race of giants. Janus, a little five-foot furry thing, didn't pose much of a threat. Still, Orodruin had to admire the creature's tenacity. He didn't know two many dragons who would keep fighting when their captors were at least six times bigger than they were. He gave a slight smile. With the exception of fae dragons, there weren't too many things six times bigger than a full-grown dragon.
It had taken them a week to travel down the border of the Plateau and the Waste to the Unclaimed Sea. Orodruin could smell it now, the scent of salt and fish that had been a part of his everyday life before the Fever. He wondered if Eiros could smell it, too, and decided that the guardian probably could, but was too distracted to wonder what it meant. Would he know? Was the scent of the sea ingrained in guardians because of their origin in the Sea of a Thousand Currents? It seemed unlikely, but Orodruin had heard of stranger things.
"Janus, stop it!" Orodruin heard Eiros say and checked quickly to make sure the other drake was alright. The phytocat had clamped down on the guardian's left wing and hung there while Eiros tried desperately to get him off without tearing the wing membrane. It would be a painful, though not fatal injury and Orodruin left the guardian, thinking that it might well serve as a reminder to Eiros not to mess around with such things in the future.
"Stop playing, Eiros," Orodruin called, feigning disinterest in the younger drake's plight.
"I'm not playing," Eiros protested. "I just could really use a hand here."
Orodruin stretched his wings in a sign of refusal. "I warned you not to bring that thing."
Eiros mouthed something terribly discourteous at the older dragon's back, but said nothing. A nip to the phytocat's bamboo growths finally convinced Janus to let go with a pained yelp. Eiros lifted Janus by the nape of his neck and hurried to catch up with Orodruin.
"So're 'e c'ose ta th' ocean?" Eiros asked around a mouthful of phytocat fur.
Orodruin pretended not to understand for a moment and then feigned understanding. "Ocean? Smells like it's right over the ridge there," he said, ducking as the guardian launched into a half-run, spreading wings that would have knocked Orodruin clean out if they had connected.
"Whoohoo!" the fledgling whooped as he went.
"And thank goodness because you can go play in the water and give me a break," Orodruin muttered, starting to chuckle at how much he sounded like the older dragons from his clan. The chuckle died as he thought of his mentor, Krakatau, telling him much the same thing on Orodruin's first day as the old imperial's apprentice.
Over the ridge, the Plateau plunged several kilometers in a steep slope over a few dozen meters and Eiros was already a quarter of the way down, sliding quickly and using his wings as a sort of parachute. Orodruin spread his wings and launched himself into the air, flying out over the ocean and circling back in a shallow, looping dive. He arrived on the beach after Eiros, but he had been in no such hurry.
"Welcome to the ocean, Eiros," Orodruin told him, dipping a front claw in the lapping surf.
The guardian dropped Janus unceremoniously to the sand where the terrified phytocat lay quivering. Eiros was so excited that his fins quivered as he set a claw into the water for the first time. The Plateau had only a few small, swift-running streams and the sight of so much water all in one place stunned the guardian. This was bigger even than the Sea of a Thousand Currents. It might not look it, but Eiros could
feel it when he touched it. This water was deep and old and vast. So very vast.
"How come no one lives here?" he asked. It seemed like heaven to him.
"Oh, a few Wind and Fire clans live along this stretch of coast," Orodruin said easily, "but most of them avoid it because of the currents up from the Southern Icefield. The Fire clans fair better because of the heat from the Great Furnace, but a lot of the Wind clans get frozen out in the winter."
Eiros stared out at the ocean in awe. "There's land across that?"
"Land, ice, the Ice Flight insists it's land. Most of the rest of us just think it's desolate."
"I wanna go there someday," Eiros muttered, but then his gaze refocused on the wildclaw. "Later. Once we're finished."
For once Orodruin couldn't find it in him to make a quip about staying with a Wind clan if Eiros wanted to travel or tell the guardian that he wasn't really welcome on the trip and to leave if he wanted. It wasn't fair to the guardian, was it? After all Eiros had given up and done for Orodruin?
Orodruin shook his head. Eiros was making him soft. Caring was dangerous.
"Come on. The Waste is this way," he snapped, turning and heading east along the sand.
Eiros whistled for Janus who, to Orodruin's surprise, rose unsteadily and took a few steps toward Eiros. The guardian lifted the phytocat onto his back and, after a tense moment, Janus settled down, albeit cautiously.
"Flamecaller be praised," Orodruin muttered. "You really are taming that thing, aren't you?"
Eiros shrugged. "I didn't actually expect that to work," he admitted.
The pair continued along the beach without saying much to each other. Eiros kept up a running line of chatter aimed at Janus which saved Orodruin the trouble of paying attention. So he didn't notice at first when Eiros' never-ending babble changed.
"I've never seen the Waste, Janus, so we'll get to see it together, but Orodruin was born there. We'll kind of be depending on him to get us where we're going. I'm not even sure where we're going. Are you flammable, Janus? It seems like you would be, but maybe you'd surprise me? I just feel like I ought to know before we walk into the fi- Oh Windsinger, Orodruin, what's that? Is it alive? Oh Windsinger."
Eiros was already bounding ahead by the time Orodruin registered his name. "Eiros! Eiros, what are you doing? Come back here!"
He slipped in the sand as he chased after Eiros, finally seeing what had caught the guardian's attention. A small scrap of blue-grey fur and yellow leather, all coated liberally with sand.
"Flamecaller have mercy," he hissed. "If it's not one thing..."
Eiros had already reached the bundle and gently nuzzled the little tundra hatchling, looking for any sign of life. The hatchling's side heaved once and that was all Eiros needed.
"He's alive," Eiros said.
"Eiros..."
But the guardian was insistent. "We can't leave him, Orodruin. He'll die on his own."
Orodruin hesitated and finally nodded once. "Alright," he said, though, privately, he was of the opinion that the tundra would likely die anyway. "Eleven help him," he sighed and, to tell the truth, he wasn't sure if he meant the tundra or Eiros.
