Blood And Fire

Chapter 24-Funeral Pyre

CHAPTER 24

     All of Dragonkind are gathered in the Upper Bowl Terrace.  Hundreds of dragons perch along the rim.  People stand in the circular amphitheatre – men, women, and children alike.  Most are dressed in dark, somber colors.

     The council is led in a procession: some serving as pallbearers to an enormous, but extremely lightweight paper mache dragon.  Valkyr is following directly behind, hefting an ornate steel torch.  The party arrives at the central stage and each member takes a position around the perimeter and faces toward the middle as the pallbearers and Valkyr bring forth the symbolic pyre: the paper dragon having multiple colors to represent each shade of dragon.

     High Councilman Malthor addresses the audience in a booming voice that echoes off the rim walls.  "Dragons and people of Highland Den..." he says and pauses to motion to all in attendance.  "It is with a heavy heart that we are gathered here today.  Never before have so many of our comrades fallen in the face of adversity.

     "I know it is of little comfort to the men, women and children present that are dearly missing a member of their family:  a father, a mother, a husband, a wife, a good neighbor and a best friend.  You have suffered a great loss.....as have we all.

     "Please know that they did not die in vain.  Through their heroic efforts, Dragonkind will go on!

     "Be assured that they are not gone.  Our brave dragons and riders will live on in the hearts and minds of each and every one of us!

     Please join me now in a prayer to the Creator to help ensure the spirits of our dearly beloved ascend from majestic Boldever Mountain on the wings of the Dragon Pyre to be welcomed with open arms at the gates of Pyronius," Malthor says and then bows his head before continuing.

     All in attendance bow their heads at Malthor's queue.

     Malthor closes his eyes and stretches his arms out at his sides with palms up and then recites, "Oh Great Pyronius, father of dragon and man alike, we pray that you smile on your children today.  Bring our dearly departed unto your heavenly home.  Take away their pain and their sorrow, and make them one with you..."

     "For you are the power and the light,

     Faith in you will sustain us through the night.

     In the morning we will see you smile,

     We vow to protect the world from all that is vile.

     We pray to you that we stay in your grace,

      So that in the end, by you we will find our place.

     "In Pyronius's name...Amen," finishes Malthor.

     The entire amphitheatre repeats a resounding, "AMEN!"

     Malthor lifts his head up and then turns to face the pallbearers and the dragon pyre.

     "Please raise the dragon," he says calmly to the pallbearers.

     They oblige Malthor's request and the paper mache dragon is hoisted effortlessly above their heads.  From the view of the underbelly of the dragon pyre, the hollow interior is exposed and a slender trough hangs below by thin wires.  The trough runs almost the entire length of the pyre.

     Valkyr approaches the hanging trough with the lit ceremonial torch.  As he touches the flame to one end of the trough, it immediately ignites and the fire follows its length.

     Slowly, as the air above the burning trough heats, the dragon pyre starts to lift off from the hands of the pallbearers.  It is now full of air that is lighter than that outside.  It majestically ascends into the early evening sky – a glowing rainbow colored dragon.

     Musicians at the funeral add to the emotion as the dragon pyre continues its flight towards the heavens.  A sad, but oddly hopeful tune plays from the small orchestra of wood reave and string instruments.

     Those who were still in shock of the recent loss of loved ones, are suddenly brought to grief by the emotion invoking combination of music and dramatic visual representation of the spirits of the fallen soaring to the heavens.  Children weep in their mothers'  arms.  Recent widowers wipe tears from their own eyes.  The perched dragons above bugle sadly as all eyes follow the flight of the funeral pyre.

     On the stage in the center of the amphitheater, Valkyr returns the ornate, ceremonial torch to its stone holder.  Lyra is on the stage as well, and she buries her face in Valkyr's burly chest.  She whispers over sobs, "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Valkyr."  She squeezes him as tight as she can.

     Valkyr returns the embrace reassuringly with his massive arms.  He is still watching the dragon pyre as it becomes smaller and smaller.  "Shhhhh," he whispers to her softly.  "This is not your fault, Lyra, you know that," Valkyr says and diverts his attention from the diminishing glow in the sky to Lyra.  He pulls away slightly and lifts her supple chin with a thick index finger, so that she is gazing up into his blue eyes.  Then he asks, "Don't you?"

     Lyra looks down and nods her head in answer, but Valkyr is not convinced.  He lifts her chin again, so she is forced to look at him.  He brushes his thumb across her tear stained cheek.  Her eyes are still closed.

     "Lyra," he says slightly more forcefully.  She obligingly opens her eyes.  They are bloodshot, but somehow the irises are even a more brilliant green than usual.  They tell of her fragile emotional state and her need for Valkyr to really mean what he is telling her.

     "Look at me," he says reassuringly.  "I am telling you what I honestly believe.  You need to believe it too."

     "I love you, Valkyr," is all Lyra can manage through what are now tears of joy.  She kisses him hard and hugs him with all her might.  Then she shoves him away playfully and smiles.

     "You better not die on me," she says with narrowing eyes.  

     "I'm not going anywhere," Valkyr replies with a twinkle in his eye.  He pats Lyra's belly and beams at her.