Captured

“What? Have your hands become wings too? They only know how to flap?” Bailong snickered, hunched in a sitting position.

“I hate this plan,’ Qinglong groaned in his head, but Bailong didn’t respond. He couldn't.

In front of him stood a short heaving man with a red face. The air tasted of blood and dust. The quivering of the man’s rage was a foul taste in Bailong's mouth and all around them were thick metal bars put so close together that he couldn't escape in any of his forms. But that wasn't the problem. He had a plan. The problem was that the man needed to be angry enough. He had to instigate that anger.

They had been captured. Hounded by the commander of Aliferous was no small deal. When Bailong woke up from the darkness, Qinglong had been running, barely able to keep himself alive and out of the clutches of the earth dragon who was on his tail. Bailong had come about at the wrong time. As soon as he took over the body, they stumbled over a tree root and couldn't dodge the dragon's stinging scale that lodged into his shoulder, making him pass out again. When Bailong woke up again, he was captured.

Qinglong groaned again, “This tastes like a 100-year-old rotten food.”

Bailong burst into a forced, mock laughter, his head throbbed harder, and blood poured out of his mouth. The man threw away his whip and swung his fist. He lowered his head just in time to take the blow to his face. The blow sent him skirting across the metal floor, away from the man. As he hit the other end of the cage, his brother cursed. This cage was made for him. His back hit the bars, so close together that one would fit between each of his ribs. He couldn’t escape except through the door. He kept his eyes closed and passed out.

Bailong had thought the plan out in detail, and now was time for execution. He pretended to pass out. He was very much awake, but he lay still, breathing evenly through the pain in his back. He was too bruised, and it was a believable act; if only he could live through the aching every time air filled his lungs, his pretense would be immaculate.

The cage’s floor shook as Bailong felt a stiff toe jab into his stomach. At first, it was numb, and then it throbbed, and then came the sting of a beast's claw.

“It rode into the only fleshy spot you have in your body.” Qinglong joked, groaning from the pain this time. They both felt it.

Another hit, another talon dug into his thigh, but it didn’t pull back this time. The man dug his claw and pushed in. To distract from groaning out, he looked into the future.

The darkness and the cage were still there, but the man’s third kick did not come again.

“No wonder he never got the dragon spirit. His tongue belongs to a snake, alright. Perhaps I will pull it out when he comes around.” the man spat on his face. Bailong opened his eyes, everything around him throbbing richly. It was his brother's sight. Bailong blinked. He was in control of his body but his sight was that of his brother. How?

“Calm down. Focus on the plan. Don’t do anything.” Qinglong cautioned. Bailong closed his eyes quickly, trying to keep his breathing in check, realizing he had taken on his brother's eyes in a moment of anger.

Indeed, the third kick never came, instead came another voice, “leave the Totter. Go back to your post.”

The man towering over him didn’t respond to whoever commanded him. Instead, he spat the words Bailong had seen in his vision. The wetness landed on his neck, but he didn't move, didn't wipe it off. The anger filed his focus. Bailong's singular thought was getting out and away from the cage. His brother's life depended on it.

The stomps faded slowly, but the metal creaking never came. Bailong looked ahead to see his steps rush out of the cage, hobbing as fast as possible. The air around him was clear of all taste but that of dry green bitterness, wet metal, and something rancid. His borrowed clothes had dried blood on them. That was the rancid part. He had been familiar with that smell for the last few days. The first was the dragon scale in his shoulder, the arrow that cut his cheek, and the matted blood on his temple when the party had seen him waking up, struggling to escape.

Bailong had hobbled far enough in his vision when he heard a loud airy scream.

“He’s got flute for a voice,” Qinglong snickered and pulled Bailong out of the vision.

Bailong opened his eyes and turned his head to see no one around. The broad back of the stocky man was standing far away from him, rubbing his talon feet into the soil to clean blood. He whipped the disgust off his neck and gritted his teeth before making his way out of the wide open door, hobbling as lightly and fast as possible.

“Can you look ahead and run at the same time?” Qinglong asked.

Bailong's head was too painful to do both those things simultaneously. But it was life or death. He concentrated, forcing the pain to one side of his head as he tried to change his eye. The view changed. Half the world was like a running painting, while the other half was still the lush greens of the north turning brown with the cold winds. His head throbbed and bile rose in his mouth. He swallowed back.

“Yes,” his brother almost took control of his hands as they shot up halfway in excitement. Bailong stumbled into a tree but didn’t say anything. His view came back to normal. Paused, he waited for his brother to speak. Nothing. His heart pushed out of his chest, and a faint blue dragon materialized.

“I can’t stop sharing your mind, but I can stop sharing your body for a while.” Qinglong's voice echoed in his head.

It was the first time he noticed the fading color of the dragon. The tips of his wings had gone white, lost their azure shine. He looked away but not before his brother looked down at himself in dragon form, still sharing his vision.

“Am I dying?”

“No.” his answer was quick, and the dragon smiled sadly.

He felt lighter than before. For the last few days, he had constantly fallen unconscious, having pushed himself too much. That's how he was caught. Now, he suddenly felt like he could run for a whole day without exhaustion. All the pains were forgotten. One of his pupils slit while the other kept looking ahead, focused. He hobbled harder, faster, even pressuring his hurt leg, keeping an eye on the likely immediate happenings. Sure enough, they heard the broken flute rise, and rise, and rise until it was no more.

“It sounds just like the vision,” Qinglong spoke dryly.

Bailong refocused and changed direction. Heading west. He just knew. He always knew. Both of them had an incredible sense of direction, much thanks to their highborn heritage; Bailong- on the ground while Qinglong- in the sky. He ran for a while with the blue dragon, floating effortlessly alongside his company.

When the eagle’s call again filled the air, Bailong dived under the shade of a tree. The scouting party had set out again. Qinglong in his blue dragon form retracted his neck and tucked in his lazy wings, trying to stick close to his side.

“We can’t get caught before reaching the west palace,” he told the dragon, its spirit form too large to be conspicuous. Though resigned from constraints, Qinglong did not complain but went back within Bailong's body, through his heart, again.

“But the location?” Qinglong's voice in his head became cleared and his body was exhausted.

The eagles surrounded the commanding eagle and circled above them. Only when the party moved on did he say, “let’s head to the clearing. We will figure it out from there.”

The vision flashed not a moment too soon and it happened. An eagle called behind Bailong, sharp and clear. He gritted his teeth and ran. Qinglong cried exasperated “hiding is not in our skillset.”

Bailong had no time to respond. He was running, hobbling as much as he could, eyes back to usual. The advantage of feeling lighter was gone. The weight of the dragon was back on his soul. Instead of heading west, he headed east, the taste of mineral water strong in the air ever since he was in the cage. The eagle shifted and banked between the trees, not used to following in a closely packed terrain. Another eagle dived right in front of him. He barely sidestepped. Then another attacked right behind him where his head would have been. He kept running and dodging. That was his only escape.

Their only advantage was the thicket above them. Bailong’s eye slit, and he felt a sharp talon scratch past the wound on his shoulder before he could see anything. Bailong hurried, abandoning the help of his vision. The stream was visible. He only needed it to be closer, deeper, and faster to dive in. The terrain was slanting, and it was hard to keep running. He slid, jumped, and often slipped, barely avoiding talons and beaks. The landscape was getting lower and the stream faster, as were the soar of attacking eagles.

The thicket suddenly thinned, the ground covered with dry, colorful leaves and trees bared down to their bones. On a low branch sat the last eagle with its eyes on him and blood on his talon.

“We will have plenty of chances to put him down. We need to survive first,” Qinglong shot in his head, but Bailong's eyes never wavered from the bald eagle. The beast opened its wings as he approached closer.

“Bailong. It is not you. You are coolheaded and sharp. If we engage now, we might get caught again.”

“Unlike a dragon?” he spoke the words softly before he came free of the thicket completely. The bald eagle’s face moved as if his beak could stretch into a smirk. His brother did not respond.

Bailong's feet met cold, ragged stones. He was jumping more than running, the stream was closer, and the gushing indicated it was faster but not deeper yet.

“Might as well take the chance,” Bailong's words confused his brother. He felt the emotions, loud and clear collide with his focus. It didn't deter him. He found a stone large enough to jump off of. The wound on his thigh stung from exertion. The eagle dived in his direction and their eyes met. They would collide. The eagle threw his claws out ready to impact but he tilted sideways, getting scratched across his chest, blood splattering the eagle. He changed form, mid-fall.

“Hell yeah,” his brother’s exhilaration made him smirk before his eyes shifted, his body elongated, and every limb mixed into his skin, the air feeling colder than before, the taste on his tongue sharper in his beast form. He could hide in the shallow quick stream in his beast form. Then his head hit something hard, and he lost his sense.

"Not again," he groaned but water filled his mouth.

“We succeeded.” his brother’s celebration was the last thing he heard, far away, fading.