A Dragon in the Valley?

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Kem peered out from the parapet of the Castle Redawn, his purple cloak swirling in the noiseless, incessant wind—wind that had stirred since the dawn of time and would stir till the end. Remily, his apprentice, stood at his elbow.

“Is it true?” Remily said, his tinny voice sounding unnecessarily loud in the quiet of what could best be described as dusk. “Is there a dragon in the Valley?”

“Shhhh.” Kem raised a forefinger to his lips, a gold ring, the same color as his eyes, gleaming dully.

The Castle Redawn crouched on the foremost promontory of the range of cliffs at the end of the earth. No one had traveled beyond its edge; it was forbidden. Far below in the Valley of the Shadow, dirt, gray like ash, sifted. Something had been stirring for days, if one could speak of days in this place where time seemed to be of no consequence. Stirring was not unusual. Things stirred in the Valley all the time. Kings slain in battle, itching for revenge. Lions eager for one last prowl. An Anathra Zux spell that didn’t want to let go of the lovers it had once bound. A grandmother restless to cook one last feast for her offspring.

The souls of the dead stirred all the time, wrestling in the Valley for the right to stand in the Court of the Redawn and petition Kem and his council for entrance into the Third Age of the World.

But a dragon? In the Valley? Dragons hadn’t existed in the Second Age of the World, but that didn’t stop people from retelling First Age stories about them. Their wingspans stretched so wide that they blotted out the sun, bringing eclipses, ice, and darkness to nations. Their cunning, beguiling ways. The way they entranced potentates and enticed them to march on sworn allies. Their supposed divinity, and how they became patron saints of cities and great families and were worshipped the world over. Their devastating hunger, how they devoured the earth of its riches and brought about the Fall of the World and the end of the First Age.

Dragons hadn’t been reborn in the Second Age, so there shouldn’t have been any in the Valley.

But the more Kem discerned the patterns sifting in the gray sands of the Valley, the more he became convinced. “These are no mortal kings fighting to be born again. Run, Remily! Tell the Court to assemble.”

Remily’s footsteps receded into the Castle, his speckled brown hair flopping about his head like a flimsy halo.

Kem remained fixed on the Valley. Sometimes, there were false alarms: the souls of the dead nearly breaking through the sand. But he had never seen such turbulence—the sand roiling, breaking like waves. (Kem knew what waves were because of the tapestries hanging inside the hall that depicting storm-ridden seas. He’d never been to an ocean and had lived, as long as he could remember, in the Castle of the Redawn.)

Then it happened. The sky sparked. Lightning arced overhead. Rem shielded his eyes as the Valley of the Shadow lit up for several seconds.

In the middle of the Valley, the earth bulged upward, fountains of dirt, sprayed geyser-like into the sky. Then the ground broke and the shadow of something rose out of the ground and slowly into the air.

Kem squinted as the lightning spritzed away. It was always hard to see the shadows as they rose in the Valley, but this creature appeared to have wings that could easily envelope the castle. A hoarse, guttural cry sounded from the creature. A cry of confusion and desperation. The shadows were always disoriented when they rose.

Kem pulled a steeling stick from his belt, clasped it with both hands as he’d always done, and it grew to the size of a staff as tall as himself. He held it upright in front of him and it began to gleam gold, the same color as his ring and his eyes. Steeling sticks served as beacons for the shadows that rose, something they could focus on.

Kem knew the shadow had seen the glow of his steeling stick when the guttural groaning cut-off mid-cry. The sudden silence always shot fear through his heart—finally he would see what had risen out of the Valley. But he knew he had nothing to be afraid of. Shadows were immaterial. They could commune with him and the Council; they could do no harm.

The shadow seemed to gather itself with great effort, beating its wings, which appeared gossamer-like, furiously. It rose into the air and dropped down again, its body jerking, as if unfolding itself. Finally, it stood upright and staggered into a half-walk, half-run of sorts, still beating its wings. It was taller by far than any man Kem had seen rise in the Valley. Two points of light glowed in its head. And Kem knew then it must be a dragon, or something ancient anyway.

He braced himself as the creature rose into the air once again, coming closer and closer to the parapet in fitful bursts of flight. It had a face like iron, hard and chiseled. Its eyes were lit like lanterns, knowing and discerning. It’s body like that of a man, but taller, bigger, stronger, naked and muscled. Its hands were big, its fingers tipped with talons.

Kem tightened his grip on the steeling stick as a breeze from the sweep of the creature’s immense, gossamer wings floated across his face. The stench of the Valley gripped his nostrils. It’s just a shadow, he told himself. Smoke and smell and shadow. You’ve done this before. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and then opened them again.

The shadow was before him, its taloned claws gripping the balustrade. Fire flickering in its eyes. It’s massive wings undulating.

“Who are you?” Kem asked. He could see through the shadow to the Valley behind it.

The creature seemed to consider the question.

“What is your name?” Everyone who rose from the Valley had to state the name or names they held in life.

The creature spoke. “Why do you ask my name—” Its voice rumbled into Kem’s head. “—when you cannot bear to hear it?”

“Do not play games,” Kem demanded. “If you cannot tell me who you are, I will send you back to the Valley.”

“Who are you to ask who I am?”

“I am Lord Kem, Master of the Castle Redawn, Summoner of the Court which stands between you and your birth into the Third Age of the World.”

The creature jerked, as if it had been slapped. “The Third Age?” The flames in its eyes flinched and blazed with a new intensity. “I was firstborn.”

“Firstborn of what?” Kem said. “Are you a dragon?”

The creature raised a taloned hand to its face and considered it. “I was dead and now I am alive forevermore.”

“You are nothing of the sort,” Kem chuckled. “You were certainly dead, but you’ll only live again if I say so.”

“Is that true, Lord Kem?”

Kem, in his head, could feel the way the creature spat his name. “Yes, it is in fact true.”

The creature threw back its iron head and began to laugh, the flames in its eyes bubbling merrily. “We shall see.”

It gripped the balustrade tightly and launched itself onto the promenade.

“You will do nothing unless I allow it,” Kem shouted, while quietly reminding himself that the creature, the dragon, was still a shadow. It wasn’t uncommon for shadows to brag as if they had some sort of power.

“I have the keys of hell and death,” the creature bellowed, its voice booming in Kem’s mind.

“You aren’t making a good case for your rebirth,” Kem said. He had to tilt his head back, baring his neck, as the creature was now standing at its full height in front of him.

“I don’t intend to.” The creature whipped a claw toward Kem’s face. A single talon pierced the skin of his neck and ripped his flesh all the way across.

Kem spasmed, the steeling stick spinning out of his grip, shrinking, and clattering across the promenade. Lord Kem, Master of the Castle Redawn, slumped to the ground, his head bent at a grotesque angle, a river of blood flowing from his wound.