The next logical chapter would be to go back and show Balanath’s story, but that alone would be a gruesome tale from start to finish, so instead, I want to show his story through the eyes of others, and to show a bit of the infrastructure and daily life in Dragon City. Enjoy.

The Red Trumpet Six Months ago… “RED TRUMPET! RED TRUMPET!” “Where to?” “Too far to tell, maybe west.” Commander Maeteth, a large copper dragon from the Teth Clan crossed over to the city-side of the wall surrounding the city and looked down. “RED TRUMPET, FIRST ALERT!” he shouted. The alarm was repeated by the city guards until the alert reached even the lowest sub-levels of the city. Maeteth watched as citizens froze in place and a tension-filled silence settled over the city. There could be no ambient noise from the city below that would interfere with the inevitable follow-up message from the Wyra Rider sounding the alarm. The Red Riders each carried a trumpet they used to alert and send messages over vast distances. Maeteth crossed back to the desert-side of the wall and lifted his head to listen. A few minutes later a large Gold Dragon silently came up beside the Commander. “Who do we have out?” whispered King Gethadar. Maeteth turned his head to the Great Dragon. “Two Seth patrols, one to the east dealing with a minor skirmish between two Wyra tribes, and the other on patrol to the south. We also have one Company each from the Teth and Nath boys’ barracks on cattle escort to the north-west.” “I heard the trumpet also,” replied King Gethadar. “It sounded like it was coming from the south-west. If it’s the boys, they’re too far south for the cattle route.” “It could be the Seth patrol,” said Maeteth. “Greens meander all over the place when they patrol.” Gethadar lifted his head and waited for the confirmation alert. It was another fifteen minutes before the next alarm arrived on the wind. “RED TRUMPET!” shouted the same guard that had heard the first alert. The alarm was echoed a few seconds later by another guard on the wall, and then they were all echoing the alarm. “Alright, quiet down,” shouted Maeteth. “They’ll be sending a Red Message any time now.” The tension along the wall grew as every dragon listened carefully. They practiced deciphering trumpeted messages at least once a week, but even then, it could be difficult to decipher a message correctly. Three minutes later the trumpeted message arrived. Maeteth closed his eyes as he deciphered each trumpeted note. “Have mercy, it’s the boys.”” exclaimed Maeteth once he had the message. “I’ll do it,” said Gethadar moving to the city-side of the wall and looking down. He lifted his voice and shouted. “RED MESSAGE: SILVER DRAGON, SEVERE INJURY, NEED BLOOD, RIDER MISSING.” He didn’t need to give any further commands, the city knew what to do. The citizens of Dragon City rushed to press up against the walls while every Silver Dragon in the city leapt into a run. The roads of the city would remain clear while the Nath Clan ran to give blood for their incoming injured brother. Gethadar turned back to look out over the desert. There would be more messages, the most important being the name of the Silver Dragon, and then they would know who the missing Rider was. The Marshal Dragons out in the desert training the boys would have already formed a search party, but what could have happened to separate a Rider from his Dragon? Gethadar closed his eyes, he already knew the answer. The Rider was likely either mortally wounded, or dead. **** Every eye in the nursery was on the Mother Dragon as she lifted her head and listened. Wyra women moved between the cradles set against the wall as they tried to quiet the infants that had chosen this time to voice their displeasure at a wet diaper, a crumpled blanket, an empty belly, or just their desire to hear their own voices. “What’s a red trumpet?” asked a curious young wyrling. “It is a cry for help,” replied the Mother Dragon. “Someone is injured.” The wyrlings and dragon hatchlings turned to each other to make sure the injured person wasn’t among them. Not finding anyone injured and thinking perhaps the danger still existed, the hatchlings wrapped around their riders protectively, and the Wyra women tending the infants had to step around more than a few young dragons standing up on their hind legs and peering down into the cradles to check on their infant riders. Silent chatter passed between the wyrlings and hatchlings until at last the oldest hatchling stood in front of the Mother Dragon and announced: “Nobody is hurt, Mother.” The Mother Dragon looked down on the little dragon and smiled. “The cry for help is coming from beyond the nursery,” she explained. Wyrlings and hatchlings turned toward the entrance of the nursery. Nobody was allowed to cross that threshold to the mysterious world beyond, unless the Mother Dragon or one of the Wyra women took them. Across from the nursery in their own sleeping cavern were those too old for the nursery, but not yet old enough to be out of the Mother Dragon’s sight. It was a magical place where you had the independence and responsibility to bathe and dress yourself, do chores, and on school days, walk completely on your own to the school cavern. Those older Wyrlings and their young dragons were now gathered together just inside the entrance of their sleeping cavern staring hopefully across at the Mother Dragon. Something was happening in the city, something new, something scary. The Mother Dragon waved them over and a flood of wyrlings and dragons rushed across the hall and into the nursery to find a place of safety to sit next to the Mother Dragon. The Mother Dragon's eyes flicked to two small wyrling boys and their dragons creeping towards the big arched doorways of the nursery. They had used the confusion of everyone running across the hall to sneak towards the entranceway unnoticed. They reached the edge of the entrance and peeked around the corner to the hall beyond. A loud tapping of her claw brought them scuttling back into the room. Shouting brought her attention back to the moment, the follow-on message to the Red Trumpet alert had arrived. Her heart froze for a beat as she listened to the message being relayed through the city. She pushed herself to her feet, dislodging a dozen wyrlings and hatchlings draped over her tail. The Dragon Mother’s head swung around to the biggest of the Wyra women tending the infants. “Karanath, you are in charge of the nursery, nobody enters until we know more about what has occurred.” “Yes, Mother,” replied Karanath. The Mother Dragon stepped across her charges, never once worrying about stepping on any of them. It was an odd talent she had discovered young, she could walk across a room full of playing, running, screaming wyrlings and dragons, and always knew where each was at any given moment. She wished that talent extended to the desert beyond – one of her children was injured, and another missing. She stepped out into the wide tunnel and leapt into a run, fear gripping her thoughts as she raced towards the hospital. **** Doctor Tonamar rolled the hypodermic needle between his fingers. It was made from a hollow porcupine quill, and more tedious and time consuming to make than any other crafted item made in Dragon City. The barbs of each quill had to be carefully sanded down, and the diameter of the needle rigorously measured again and again until it was suitable to draw blood. He set the needle aside and inspected the tubing next. It was made from the rubbery roots of a river reed, and nearly as difficult to make, taking up to three weeks to prepare and preserve the tubing to maintain its flexibility. The collection bag was much easier, being a goat’s bladder and only required preserving and sterilization. The field of hematology was new, only having been pioneered ten years ago, but it had been a discovery that came at a terrible price. Three dragons died before they understood that only like-dragons could give blood to each other. Silver dragons could only give to silver dragons, and blues to blues, and greens to greens, and so on. The only dragons that had turned out to be universal donors were the gold dragons. The Wyra had been much more difficult to figure out. Five Wyra test patients died during the research and the entire program was nearly scrapped before a brilliant surgeon discovered the Wyra had unique blood types and could only give to a patient with the same. The research was still on-going, a theory that a universal donor might exist among the Wyra had emerged, but the research wasn’t conclusive enough yet to risk testing it on a live patient. He put the equipment back on the cart and glanced toward his dragon, Etamar. She was meticulously marching up and down the rows of ice blocks she’d pushed in from the ice storage room. Her tongue flicked in and out as she tasted the temperature. “How are we doing?” asked Tona. “Thirty-nine degrees,” replied Eta. “We’re ready.” Tona went to the doorway of a side room he used as both an office and breakroom. Inside gathered around a table were five elderly Red Riders playing bone dice. All of their dragons had passed away already, and so to hold their grief at bay, they spent the days here together, and volunteering to conduct blood draws. “It’s time,” announced Tona. The men rose from the table in an easy swift motion that defied their age, but that was to be expected from Red Riders. The Red Dragons were the only dragons with no vertical movement when they ran, and so their Riders were spared the common degenerative spinal problems that plagued other Riders. Tona turned away without another word and headed across the room. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, but the sheer volume of their medical knowledge and experience was intimidating and made him feel like a medical student. He stepped out into the wide cavernous hall beyond the cold-storage room. Silver dragons were lined against the right wall for as far as he could see in the dim light. The first dragon in line was Talanath, the Nath Clan Leader. Tona bowed his head to the Great Dragon. “We’ll begin in a few moments, Sir,” said Tona. “We’re going to be drawing two liters from the larger dragons, and stepping it down according to weight from there.” Talanath tipped his head. “Thank you, Doctor.” Tona crossed the hall to the hospital ramp where two adolescent dragons and their riders were waiting. The ramp had been a marvel of engineering to dig up through over 200 feet of rock in a spiral to the hospital. With the addition of the ramp, the hospital had quick access to the medical supplies kept in the cool storage caverns below. The two adolescent dragons and riders waiting were a boy and a girl. The boy and his dragon leaned against the wall trying to nap, and the girl held a book in her hand while she poked at her dragon. “You need to wake up,” ordered Tona as he walked past the boy. “Run over to produce storage and get some more oranges, this lot here obviously thinks we’re serving free breakfast.” The boy’s eyes opened. “Again? I’ve refilled them twice already.” “It’s better than having them faint after we draw blood,” said Tona. “Get them some more oranges.” “Yes, Doctor,” replied the boy sulkily. Tona went to the girl next and looked over her shoulder at the book she was referencing, then reached out a hand and tapped on one of the dragon’s scales. “If you’re looking for the liver, it’s under this scale.” The girl furrowed her brows slightly. “But… the book says…” “That particular book is only referencing male dragon anatomy,” interrupted Tona. “There are books in the library for female dragon anatomy, but you have to ask for them specifically, otherwise they give you that book.” “Oh, I got the wrong book,” replied the girl. “You’ll have to study both,” said Tona. “What field are you considering?” The girl looked at her dragon and sighed. “Lethi and I have been arguing. She wants to work in the field because she likes to run, but I want to be a pediatrician.” “That’s an easy compromise,” said Tona. “Every clan sends their boys out to the desert to train. We have medics that go out with them, but we desperately need field pediatricians. The Red Medics know when there’s a surgeon in the field, and will call for help in the more serious cases. There’s always some fool boy that falls off a boulder and hits his head, or takes a dare and sticks his hand in a Sand Viper's mouth.” “Seriously? That happened?” “Yes, it has. The Sand Viper’s venom is harmless to the Wyra, but the snake’s fangs are still very sharp. The viper did what nature intended and tried to eat the boy. It made it all the way to his shoulder before the medics decided to cut the innocent creature off the boy, but in the process, the fangs nicked an artery. We heard the Red Trumpet and came running. It was my first solo surgery right there in the sand.” “Wow, I want to be a field…” The girl broke off from what she was saying and turned toward the sound of a dragon thundering down the ramp at top speed. Not thirty seconds later one of the currier dragons stationed at the top of the ramp careened off the final turn in the ramp. The dragon continued without slowing until it was too late and slid out into the hall and towards the opposite wall at an alarming speed. Masenath, a large middle aged man, and the Clan Leader’s Rider, leapt forward and snatched the boy from the speeding dragon’s saddle, while Talanath jumped in front of and caught the much smaller dragon before he would have crumpled into the wall. The ashen faced boy looked up at Masenath. “They’re here,” the boy sobbed. “It’s bad… it’s really bad, I’ve never… seen anything like that before… Doctor Malamar sent us… said to run as fast as we could.” “Well, you did. Now calm down and tell us the message,” replied Masenath. The boy took a deep breath. “Doctor Malamar said to tell Doctor Tonamar they would need 200 liters.” Doctor Tonamar raised a surprised brow. “Are you certain he said 200 liters?” The boy swiped at his eyes and nodded. “Yes Sir, 200 liters.” The doctor shook his head. “He’s lost more than a quarter of his body’s blood.” “Do you know who it is?” asked Talanath. The boy looked up at the Great Dragon with eyes haunted by the images he’d seen – The two Red Dragons with a blood-soaked litter tied between them – The Silver Dragon looking small and helpless as the Riders rode in the litter with the dragon, desperately trying to stop the blood loss – And as they ran past, his heart had frozen when he recognized the dragon, but then he saw the injury. It was the most horrible thing he’d ever seen in his life, and probably would remain the worst thing he’d ever see. The dragon’s right-rear leg was completely torn from his body. Tears flowed down his face as he said, “It’s Balanath.” Talanath studied the boy’s face. “I know you, you’re that boy Kanath is always getting into mischief with.” The boy nodded. “He’s my best friend.” “Perhaps you shouldn’t ride today,” said Talanath. The boy shook his head. “They said it was Rock Dragons and Ka was probably dragged away. That’s why they didn’t find him with Balanath.” The boy’s eyes blazed with anger. “Ka’s already dead, I know it, but I have to do everything I can to help save his dragon. I’ll ride until I’m dead.” “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” replied Talanath. “Head back up to the hospital and find the Nath Mother Dragon, she’ll know Kanath’s blood type.” Talanath turned to Doctor Tonamar. “Once I get Kanath’s blood type, we’re going to do a blood draw from the Wyra. We’ll pack it in ice and send it with a Red Rider out to Kanath’s last known location.” Doctor Tonamar nodded once. “There are nine people that know how to handle and administer blood. Three are up at the hospital with Balanath, and the other six are standing in this hall with you. I’ll carry the blood out to the desert myself.”