Blitzkrieg - 04.01.09

Chapter 1: Healing

“Quickly! We need more water!” my mother screamed to my father, “John! Look out!” I had been hiding under my bed, too frightened to cry. It had all happened much to fast. Not but an hour before we had been eating dinner, but when that candle had fallen everything went wrong. It could have been a simple fix and everything would have been fine, but I tried to help. I had never tried to use magic before. Being only three at the time, what could I have known about it? All I had wanted to do was to help my parents. It had gone so, so wrong. The magic flowed from me, but instead of quenching the flames, it did the exact opposite. The fire spread faster than ever at an uncontrollable rate. There was no way anyone could have stopped it.

“John! No! Please, no!” The roof had fallen and my father was covered in blood. My mother tried frantically to free his limp body. The smoke was becoming unbearable; I could hardly breath or see anything. I felt the bed shake and saw for an instant the loose board underneath come flying towards me. I heard my mother's voice one last time before my world blacked out and I was knocked unconscious. “Bobby? Bobby, please! Mommy can't find you! Bobby!” She was sobbing harder than ever.
~~~

“You're crying Blitzkrieg. Is it the memories again?” I started slightly as I heard Viceroy's voice behind me.

“Yes, I can't hardly meditate anymore without it coming back to me again. It was worst than ever this time; much more vivid. I heard my name for the first time too and I finally understand why I am blind.”

“Now that the memory is complete, will you show me?” Viceroy was impatient and was sick of my refusal to show him the bits and pieces I had gotten in the past.

“I suppose it's about time.” I sighed, not wanting to live it again. Reaching up to press my palm to the dragon's forehead, I pulled the final memory forward and, with an extreme effort placed it inside of his mind. A single tear slipped from his giant eyes as he opened them.

“Bobby.” He said it as though he were tasting the name. “Would you prefer it if we called you by it?” Viceroy brought his head down so that it was level with mine and I could feel his eyes upon me. His breath smelled of smoke and the pain of the memory hit me all over again.

“No, Blitzkrieg is my name now and I will be called by nothing else.” I felt a fresh wave of tears coming forward. The memory had deprived me of all my strength. All I wanted was to get away from the cranky old dragon and get back to Torah. She would be much more sympathetic to me. I stepped away from Viceroy and picked up my walking stick, letting it guide me back down the familiar passages, back to my quarters.

“Are you back Blitzkrieg? Hey, hey. You okay? Why are you crying? What happened?” I didn't say anything. I could not. All that came out was a choked sob as I followed Torah's voice straight to her. The young dragon eventually stopped asking questions as she let me cry into her scales, knowing I would talk to her soon enough.

“Tell me... the story again... Torah. Please.” I studdered over my words, trying to get my point across without triggering the tears again. For the past fifteen years I had asked for this story. Torah had never tired from telling it and I could only hope she would be the same now. “Tell me about... when you found me...” She took in a small gasp and then she spoke with extremely sympathetic understanding, finally realizing why I had been crying. She knew all about the memories.

“Fifteen years ago, I had been flying over Lebensraum with my father. I wasn't much more than a hatch-ling at the time and even though my eyes were still young, I could see the smoke. My father looked to me at this time and explained our situation.

'Lebensraum is elf country Torah,' he began. ' but there is a compromise between us dragons and them. This compromise is that if a dragon were to come across a dead elf and there are no other elves around to give them proper burial, then we are allowed to eat them.' I cringed slightly at this thought, unsure if I should be excited or disgusted. Seeing my reaction he went on. 'There is not one meat out there that is more rejuvenating to a dragon than an elf. Just one full-grown will keep your stomach full for an entire month. Come, let us go and investigate this fire.' I became excited at this having never seen an elf before.

We glided down, me rather clumsily as my wings were still new. The dwelling was almost completely burned down, the fire almost all gone. My father and I began picking through the rubble. Being only four feet tall at the time, I couldn't do much but I came across a bed that didn't look like it would give me much trouble. I glanced over at my father then to see him pulling two full-grown elves from under the fallen roof. One male and one female...” She trailed off and I could tell she had seen the tears slipping down my cheeks again. Trying to regain control I patted her warm scaly shoulder.

“Please finish. I need to hear the rest.” She touched her nose to my forehead gently and began again as though never interrupted.

“...the elves were beautiful even in their damaged state. Each one was at least eight feet tall and the female had long golden hair falling to her waist. The male had very short, thick, black hair. Both were extremely elegant and fair. It was hard for me to take my eyes away from them and focus on the bed. It took an extreme amount of effort but I finally dislodged the bed. What I found underneath changed my life forever. There, curled up in a ball was a black haired Elvin boy, and to my surprise he was still taking ragged, strained breaths.

'Father! Come look! He is still alive. What does the compromise say we do?' My father had just finished removing the female elf from the wreckage and placing her next to the male when I said this. He looked up quickly and came to my side.

'This changes everything.' he said calmly. 'We do not eat the boy. We leave him and the others here and move on.'

'But he will die! There are no elves for miles around. No one will have seen the smoke.' I was on the verge of tears. Something inside of me wanted so badly to save the boy, to protect him.

'Well young one, what do you believe we should do then?' He looked at me expectantly, knowing that solving problems was one of my most enjoyable pass-times.

'We should... give the two full-growns a proper burial, and we should take the elf boy with us to be raised amongst the dragons. I will take good care of him and he will be my playmate.' The plan made perfect sense to me, so I did not understand my father's satisfied smile and small chuckle.

'I like your idea, and it might just work. I will allow you to keep him for three months and if he is settled into life here by then, then he can stay. Otherwise I take him back to his people.' I was overjoyed at this statement knowing with confidence that I could make it work. We buried the full-growns and my father took the young one in his claws as gently as he could. We brought him home with us still unconscious.

It wasn't long before that boy became comfortable. Luckily the languages are similar to an extent and he was a fast learner. It was as though he had done nothing but live with dragons his whole life. He had no memory of the fire or of his parents. The weirdest things about him though was his inability to see. Besides all of this, the young elf was energetic and always running at top speed, but he was also easily angered and always ready for a fight. This got him into trouble many times. By the end of the three months he had earned the name Blitzkrieg amongst the dragons. It means 'lightening war'. He was allowed to stay, growing up with me to become my very best friend.... Blitzkrieg, are you going to be okay?”

I shuddered. It all finally came together. Starting at five years old I had been placed under Viceroy's care to be taught how to use magic and how to calm the anger that had given me my name. He was our city's expert on elves and he understood them extremely well. It was Viceroy who had me start the meditating. It is now common practice for me to meditate whenever I am angered by something as I had been when I had the last memory.

About a year ago the memories had begun. They made no sense to me at first as they were pictures and flashes of color, both of which I could not recall ever seeing because of my blindness. Slowly over time the pictures began to connect and sound and smell were added to them. Finally, after eight months of having these, I remembered my parents, their names, and what they had looked like. This last meditation was the first time all of my memories had connected at last and an ending had been added.

“I think so.” I mumbled to Torah and then told her my story. I was much too weak to just give it to her as I had with Viceroy. As I told it, I realized just how heavily one particular truth had weighed on my shoulders all of this time. It was my fault. I had killed my parents. A deep sorrow over-took me then worse than I had ever felt before. I went to bed that night looking for a solution, looking for a way out of the darkness and to find peace. It took a few hours of restlessness, but I finally slept.
I woke the next morning my mind finally resolved. I would return to my old home and visit my parents' graves. Perhaps the comfort I sought could be found there. “Torah? Can you help me to do something big? Please?” I had heard her wake a few minutes before.

“Of course. What is it?” She yawned loudly and her claws scraped the floor sharply as she stretched.

“I need you to take me to the dwelling.”

“...Oh.”

“Please.”

“Do you think it will really help you?” She sounded worried.

“I can only hope so.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you so much Torah. You have no idea how much this means to me.” We began our journey shortly after, me upon her back. She was still not full grown, but she was plenty big to carry me. We didn't arrive until mid-day. She left me at the site and went in search of food.

As I touched the graves I could feel the growth of the plants over the last fifteen years. I looked in the supposed direction of the dwelling and let my walking stick guide me toward it. The crunch of the rubble and ashes alerted me when I had found it. I delved then deep into the recesses of my mind searching for more memory; searching for that fallen bed. Only vague memories guided me, but I found the bed at last, stumbling many times along the way. It wasn't long before I found the board that had blinded me all those years ago. It was very sharp and I realized that such an object surely would have left terrible wounds in its wake. I hesitated as I lifted my right hand to touch my eye lids. Sure enough though, I had a continuous scar starting from my left eye, crossing the bridge of my nose and ending on my right eye.

“Blitzkrieg?” I jumped.

“How come you never told me about the blood?”

“What blood?”

“The blood that had covered my face. Why did you not mention it?” I was slightly annoyed. I had always felt the scar before but it had never occurred to me that it was unnatural. I thought all elves were like that and now I knew otherwise. Before my frustration could turn to anger though, I reminded myself quickly that it was not important.

“I suppose I forgot. I don't really know... How much longer would you like to stay?”

“A bit longer. Please.” I found her and patted her shoulder as I made my way back to the grave site. She was respectful and stayed aways back so as to not disturb me.

I crouched down once more in front of them and reached out to the parents I once had. Tears streamed silently down my cheeks as I began to search. I searched once again for comfort, for peace, and for relief of pain. I stayed like that for over an hour, when I realized that it was not their forgiveness that I needed, but instead I needed to forgive myself. My parents were gone and they could not tell me everything was okay. I took a deep breath and let it go very slowly. As I did I felt the years of hatred, frustration, and anger begin to fade. The ever-present tension in my body begin to relax. In place of my anger, I was filled with love; love for my parents, and love for Torah, but most importantly a love for myself, something I had never felt before.

Torah spoke then, after waiting so patiently for the past two hours. “Blitzkrieg? I just realized something. You don't think this was your fault do you? I mean, you were so young and inexperienced, there was nothing you could have done. It isn't your fault.”

In that moment I saw at last the peace and felt the comfort. “I know. I don't blame myself. Not anymore.”

- Kimberly H. G. (16 years old)