City of Embers
1. A Sylvan Encounter
It is generally known that dragons are both the oldest and the wisest creatures to inhabit the Universe. Theirs is indeed a distinction that enjoys special pride of place amongst all living things. Not only do they attain fantastic old age, but their kind and gentle nature has made them the guardians and repositories of the world’s knowledge and wisdom. On a cool mid-October morning just as the leaves were beginning to turn and woodland creatures stirred sleepily in their burrows, the dragon Easton settled down on a rocky outcropping near a small fountain to contemplate his own existence. His long snout, now covered in a dusting of white scales, which have been protecting him for the last four hundred and sixteen years lay on the very edge of the rock so that the smell of the water entered his nostrils and filled his senses entirely. He had travelled far to come to the Resting Place and his limbs were tired and weary. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, drawing in of the world around him and with it, its secrets. He was tired down to his very core. Tired of the universe of men, who were incapable of governing themselves without fight or prejudice. Tired of the years spent trying to teach them of right and wrong, good and bad, of sacrifice and humility. But tired, mostly, of a life spent in studious solitude. Night after lonely night of pouring over books of spells and magic weary with fatigue. He longed - more than anything else - for companionship, for anyone with whom to share his discoveries and experiences. He would be quite content, he decided just then, to fall asleep and never wake up, to drift off with the smell of the best of the world replete in his senses and the sound of the flowing water filling his ears. The idea struck him as singularly unique and he determined to search for the Flower of Sleep that would grant him respite from his lonely existence. So determined, he roused himself from the rock, leaving behind the fast-flowing water and its magical soporific sounds and set about with renewed energy to locate the little flower. He had just turned onto the path that led to the lushest part of the valley, when a faint sound came to him, halting his progress directly. He turned his ear this way and that, testing the air for the ephemeral note that seemed only a second ago so distinct amongst the other sounds of the forest, but heard nothing. He continued on his way and before long it came to him again, soft and sweet and gentle, carried on a leaf-filled breeze that barely stirred the tops of the great trees. Again, he paused and listened. And this time it seemed somewhat closer. He tested the air, this time with his forked tongue and chuckled as he recognised - beyond a shred of doubt - the sounds of a young human child at play. Careful so as not to disturb it, the great dragon crept up to the place where the child was murmuring to itself in a glade of grass, and stood watching it in silence. Seconds passed, then minutes as the great dragon stood there, mesmerised by the musings of a child lost in the trappings of its own imagination. There is nothing more beautiful, he thought, than the happiness of a child spell-bound in a world of its own creation. He might have stayed like that for a long time, were it not that his thoughts turned to the child’s safety and, glancing furtively around, could discern no guardian or parent close at hand. He stepped into the clearing and as he did so, the child turned its saucer-like sapphire eyes up to him.