The Dragon's Call
The Pokémon Center looked as inviting as ever, with its warm bright colors and the cheery faces of the nurses as they greeted their visitors with smiles. Trainers flowed through, catching the contagious merry mood while waiting patiently for their Pokémon to be healed. None lingered much longer than fifteen minutes. The machines could handle the simple wounds and fatigue of most their Pokémon.
One group of individuals watched the ebb and flow of traffic from their corner with envy. They had been there since morning with baited breath, waiting for the dreaded inevitable announcement. The optimistic atmosphere was lost on them as they brooded, grimly avoiding each other’s eyes. Not a word had been spoken, but the same fears occupied their thoughts.
Farryn Fletcher sat on the edge of his seat, holding his head in one hand. He knew that this day would come. Tadghan was old, and growing weaker with every year. But he had always been there for them. The Pokémon had become a symbol of his family’s heritage, a relic of his father’s glory, a guardian to them all.
What would life be like without him?
“U-uncle… F-farryn?”
The long-standing silence between the Fletcher’s was broken by the timid whisper of Farryn’s nephew. Farryn sluggishly lifted his gaze, finding the seven-year old still huddling near his father—Farryn’s estranged brother. The mop of white hair hid half of his abashed face, but those sapphire blue eyes met his for one brief moment.
“I-is… is T going to… I-is he g-going to be o-okay?” the boy squeaked, voicing the question that had been avoided. All eyes turned to Farryn, some sharp, some sympathetic. Most, desolate. Expecting the answer as much as his nephew did.
Sighing, Farryn slowly dropped his hands. This must have been difficult and confusing for all the young ones. No one had considered them. Unfortunately, the best Farryn could offer was, “I don’t know, Aidan. I don’t know.”
Eyes dropped. Farryn’s nephew gripped the seat.
“I… I-I’m sorry…” the boy’s apology was barely audible.
Farryn winced, but before he could close the floodgates the storm began.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Aidan,” Farryn’s brother Owen snapped, staring daggers across the room.
“The h*** he does!” the retort came quickly from their mother, Delma—a cantankerous old woman with as much patience as an outraged Gyarados. “The boy has a name to live up to, but he has as much backbone as his father. If he’d just own up to his Arceus da—”
“Aidan is his own person,” Owen cut her off, raising his voice to an alarming volume. “He has his own choice in becoming who he wants! I will not have anyone tell him otherwise.”
“You ungrateful child! Don’t you realize what you’re doing to him? You’re denying him his power! His greatest potential! If you would quit babying him, he could be as great as his grandfather. As great as your brother!”
“Mother, please,” Farryn tried to ease the boiling tension in the room with a soft tone. Don’t bring me into this…
Unfortunately, matters only grew worse as Farryn’s sister jumped in. “You’re one to talk, Owen. You’re sure pushing hard for him to get into school. Is he gonna be the next little Juniper?”
“Is that why you’ve banned Pokémon from your household?” Donnel—the youngest brother—spoke up with a bitter tone. “Wouldn’t want anything to distract your little prodigy from his studies, would ya? Wouldn’t want him to get any wrong ideas in his head.”
The adults continued to bicker back and forth, and the subject of their arguments continued to quietly listen. The boy seemed to sink further into the plush Center sofa with every mention of his name, his eyes wide with fear. The Fletchers were ignorant to his suffering—because their argument had never really been about him. The rift between Owen and his family was growing wider.
Farryn had it. Standing abruptly, he bellowed over their incessant complaints. “ENOUGH!”
The entire Pokémon Center fell into an earsplitting silence. Not only had all the Fletchers turned to him with stunned expressions, but the other Trainers and Nurses as well. The Dragonmaster had commanded all attention with a single word. He let his critical gaze wander over his kin—settling last of all on his terrified nephew. Then, without saying anything else, he left.
Bystanders quickly averted their eyes and feigned ignorance, yet the beat of their activity had clearly been offset. Some Trainers—young and old—appeared unnerved despite their best attempts to hide it. Farryn knew he could appear intimidating at times. It often troubled his quiet demeanor, but his father had told him it was a side effect of his calling.
The dragons will change you, just as you change them, he had said with a wink. A Dragon Tamer will never by any means be an ordinary man.
The fond memory diffused Farryn’s anger, slowing his pace. Father had been gone for some time now, but Farryn swore he could feel his guiding presence from time to time. What he would give to have that now. What would Father think of all this? How would he quell his family’s quarrels, and bridge the gap gouged by his brother?
The new Dragon Master couldn’t understand. Why had everything fallen apart, so soon after his death?
“Mr. Fletcher…?” a tentative voice broke through his private mourning. One of the Center’s nurses had approached him with measured caution. She looked like the last person who would want to deal with conflict at the moment. He could respect her for that—he wouldn’t want to deal with the trouble afforded by his family either. So, placing an empathetic but weak smile on his face, Farryn turned to her.
That seem to do the trick. The nurse visibly relaxed, smiling back as well. Yet hers was a fleeting thing, hardly matching the sadness in her eyes. “Mr. Fletcher, the condition of your Haxorus has been stabilized, but, um… Well, I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do. The damage done to his heart is irreparable.”
All the tension he had kept pent up inside dissipated with a long, drawn-out sigh. However, it left him feeling emptier than ever. Farryn closed his eyes and nodded, allowing grief to wash over him.
“May I see him?” he asked the nurse, who had been watching his reaction warily.
“Yes, sir,” she nodded, her smile returning with sympathy. “Right this way.”
He followed her to the back, through the windowed hallway connecting the different patient rooms of various sizes. Most, fortunately, were empty; but they catered to smaller creatures. Tadghan’s room was in the far back—the surgery room in all actually. The Iccirus Center was by no means the fanciest, serving mostly the marshy back-country of Unova, and it was unusual to treat anything larger than a Druddigon. Tadghan had grown massive in his ripe old years—larger even than the average Haxorus. Luckily, no surgeries had been planned for the near future.
Farryn braced himself as the nurse opened the doors. He had been mentally preparing himself for this moment, but seeing it for himself would make it no easier. He felt the emotional blow as soon as he walked in.
The great black dragon was sprawled out on several mattresses pulled from the other rooms, his mass spanning the entire width of the room. His eyes were closed, and the hiss of his labored breathing rattled the air. It was a pitiful sight, one Farryn hated seeing. Tadghan was a legend as great as his father—powerful and rare. He deserved a better ending than this.
Sensing their presence, one of the dragon’s lids lifted and exposed a sliver of his ruby-red eye. Farryn felt his very bones vibrate as Tadghan gave a slow deep-chested grumble.
Keeping his eyes on the dragon, Farryn asked the nurse, “Can you give us thirty minutes… alone?”
The nurse nodded in understanding. Taking her leave, she quietly closed the door behind them. As soon as he heard the nurse release the handle, he finally crossed the room to his father’s Pokémon.
“Hello, old friend,” Farryn greeted as he sat on the ground near the dragon’s head. Tadghan weakly lifted his head and rested it on his lap, closing his eyes with another low grumble. Farryn ran his hands along the snout of the legendary beast, closing his own eyes. As he did so, thoughts and impressions came to his mind.
Dragon types are among the strongest types—and one of the most ancient. Their power stems from the creation of the world, unchanged from the ages since then. The reason why ordinary trainers found dragons difficult to raise was just that; their proud power is too archaic for them to understand. But the Dragon Tamer clans devoted their lives to understanding that power. Few, like those of Arthur Fletcher’s line, could connect with dragons in a way that no one else could. These were the true Dragon Masters.
What Farryn experienced then was not unlike the telepathy of psychics, yet at the same time completely enigmatic. He could sense Tadghan’s thoughts through images—but more importantly, he could sense his emotions through the colors Tadghan painted those images.
Farryn saw himself, younger, but playing with his brothers and sister in their parent’s backyard. The scene tinged with gold and warm colors, indicating how fond of the memory Tadghan was. Father was watching with a goofy smile as his children climbed onto the dragon’s dragons, only to be launched laughing and screaming into the family pond. At the end of the memory, the golden hues of the scene were touched with blue.
“I miss the old days, too,” Farryn sighed, stroking the dragon’s muzzle again. “Things were much happier then…”
Another image flashed in his mind—he and his brother Owen, this time as teens, glaring at each other angrily—but colored with a confusing mix of gray, blue, and red.
Farryn understood. “No… I’m not mad at him. Not anymore. He is right—he should be able to decide what he wants to be. Him… and his son.”
A gust of air ruffled Farryn’s pants as the dragon heaved a sad sigh. He pictured Aidan, looking shy and uncertain as ever in shades of yellow and blue.
“Aidan will be fine,” Farryn assured him. “He’s shaken, but he’ll… be fine.”
Tadghan was silent for a moment; all Farryn could sense from him was the dull ache of pain and fatigue. Then, the images started to come. Tadghan had been watching Aidan and his cousin Quill while the family prepared for Iccirus’ Dragon festival. The two suddenly disappeared, to Tadghan’s great distress. The dragon had already been showing signs of old age, but he decided he had to get up and find out where they had gone.
Using his sense of smell, the dragon followed a trail out of town—north, towards Dragonspiral Tower. Tadghan became worried; it was forbidden for the children to go there. A clan of particularly irate Druddigon had made their home there, posing a danger to anyone unprotected by Pokémon. Tadghan picked up the pace, wondering what had gotten into the minds of the children.
He found them at last, right by the base of the tower, but his worst fears had been confirmed. The boys were huddled together, trembling in fright as a pack of Druddigon harassed them. Shells of broken Poké Balls littered the floor around them, telling the complete story. Tadghan understood it in an instant—the boys thought they could come here and catch their first dragons. It was foolish, but there was no time to reprimand them now.
Feeling the fires of anger boiled up within him, Tadghan shook off the shackles of his old age. For the first time in decades, the dragon roared on the top of his lungs, challenging those who had threatened his family. The Druddigon turned their heads, and at first looked intimidated, but finding the Haxorus alone they decided they had the upper hand. Casting the boys from their mind, they charged Tadghan.
He took them all on at once, lashing at them with his tusks and claws and tail. He could feel their teeth and claws and prickly hides scrape his armor, but few attacks left their mark. Individually, they would have been no match to the legendary dragon, but together they proved troublesome. Still, Tadghan had retired a Champion, and would stay a Champion. He fought with a ferocity that the reckless dragonlings would never forget. One by one, the Druddigon turned tail and fled.
Tadghan snorted and stood victorious. However, the fatigue quickly fell on his shoulders. Breathing heavily, he turned to check on the boys. Quill watched with awe, but Aidan… Tadghan had never seen such terror in anyone’s eyes before. And they were staring straight at him.
It was that image that stuck in the Haxorus’ mind, even after he doubled over at the sharp pain that assaulted his chest.
Farryn opened his eyes as soon as the vision ended, slowly drinking the revelation. He hadn’t heard the whole story until now. It explained where the lacerations on Quill came from; the boy had been taken to the local doctor before he could be questioned, but last Farryn heard there was nothing serious.
Aidan, on the other hand… Well, it was hard to tell. Tadghan worried that the boy was now scared of him. Farryn sighed, patting the dragon’s neck. He couldn’t deny it—the whole ordeal would be traumatizing for anyone his nephew’s age. Quill would shake it off. But Aidan…
Tadghan flashed an image of Aidan once again, colored with guilt. Farryn frowned.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” the Dragon Master assured him. “You did what you had to. You were a hero… like you’ve always been. Aidan… knows that. He just needs time to recover…”
Another labored breath escaped the shiny Haxorus’ snout. Farryn flinched as his vision flashed red—Tadghan’s pain ran deep. It was amazing he was conscious at all.
With sudden fervor, the dragon sent feverish images to Farryn’s mind, trying desperately to get one last message across. Farryn saw his family, engaged in another fierce argument, soon replaced with another of them sitting together all laughing and smiling. He saw his nephews, sullen and scared, and then he saw them grinning from ear to ear as they chased each other down a trail leading through the marshes. He saw Aidan as a toddler, through Tadghan’s eyes, patting the great dragon’s talon affectionately.
Finally, he saw his father. Arthur was looking at him proudly, giving a single nod. Then, slowly, Farryn saw his own image replacing his father’s. He stood between his brother and his family, all with peaceful expressions on their faces, colored with calming tones of blue.
As it all ended, Farryn looked down at the dragon’s eyes. They stared at him with glowing admiration.
Then, slowly, his lids fell like curtains, closing those ruby-red eyes to the world. One last breath left the dragon’s lungs, and just like that, the great legend left this world.
Farryn choked on his breath, tightening his hold. “I’ll honor your wish, Tadghan… Rest in peace… Old friend…”
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