A Realm Before Us

Sigusmondelon blinked, shaking his head to regain focus on the present day. It was all too common to relive the moments of his memories stretching back over centuries. He could recall the strenuous victory of the memory, the faces of each Dragomir pair that passed, and the few that survived. He could remember the rage that enveloped his human companion, Eka, that day, sending them on the hunt for the remainder of those sympathizing with Ommateum as they hid away across the world. Most painfully, he could recall the day his companion, trapped within the bowels of a mountain fortress, was robbed of what should have been eternal life. The injustice was that Sigusmondelon knew he should have passed with his companion, but the foolish human released the magic tethering their lives, saving the dragon alone.

The raven-scaled dragon continued watching the people below, longing for his reckless human friend. Catching the unnatural movement of trees lifting and dropping back to their place on the forest floor, he knew the charge of being, first and foremost, a guardian of creation would place him opposite a Nemat, one of the grotesque augmentations created by the Reimkin after Ommateum taught them to twist the tethers of magic used to shape the world. Nevertheless, the humans below, who were hunters and gatherers all, would stand little chance against the beast when it decided upon surfacing to consume more than bedrock.

Adjusting his flight pattern, Sigusmondelon hoped his presence would be enough to cause the group to turn back. Using his mighty roar to strike fear in the group, he angled his approach to set himself between the oncoming Nemat and the humans. Though he had seen them traveling these lands for decades, they were too young in years and lacked any form of historical documentation, leaving them wanting in any memory of the past. They cannot recall when dragons and humans shared the skies, even if they had wanted to.

The sight of him had thrown the pack into a frenzy, with many dropping items as they sought the hide themselves among the trees and undergrowth. An ear-piercing sound rode on the wind like a herd of buffalo barreling down a slope, causing Sigusmondelon to shutter and whip his head toward the humans. A small group of men held crude blades, make-shift spears, and bows with arrows knocked. The sight of them was pitiful compared to the weapons of war the dragon had seen in battle during the Khoscheltian War. Still, it was admirable for them to brave certain death to protect their people.

If the humans had the means to truly protect themselves, Sigusmondelon would live peacefully in some far-off mountain range, but they didn’t. He once considered sharing the knowledge found in the second age with the tribe’s elder; the man was a Moon Walker, after all. Yet, there was a palpable greed in the old man, a lust for control and power…the same misplaced desire that brought Ommateum to devastate the world. Thus, the raven-scaled dragon was here, threatened by those he was attempting to save and endangered by the beast yet to surface on the other side.

The ancient dragon stood his ground, letting out a snort of hot air. He could hear the heartbeats of each human; the ones standing before him thudded at a more significant rate than those hiding among the trees. Their fear was palpable in the air, a stench that would alert any predator within a few miles of this location to perk up with interest. Most notably, he could feel the tremors underfoot as the bedrock was consumed or pressed aside with the approach of the Nemat. Several tiny thumps signaled the releasing of arrows, which did little more than bounce off at awkward angles.

Wrapping his tail around a surmountable tree, Sigusmondelon crushed the trunk near the roots, causing it to begin falling toward the space between the humans and himself. The warriors leaped back, jostling each other to gain distance from the area of impact. With the tree’s blow, the ground shook with more substantial vibrations; the Nemat was here. Bursting from the earth, the massive worm unsteadily reared back, preparing to come down on the slight vibrations of the scattering people. Birds left the cover of treetops in masses while other creatures scampered about frantically, seeking distance from the Nemat. So desperate was their fleeing many animals paid no mind to the dragon whose claws they were leaping and bounding over.

Settling into a readied stance, the raven-scaled dragon prepared to engage the massive worm. Letting a rumbling growl grow into a roar, he thrust off the forest floor, baring his fangs to chew the best to bits. The Nemat shifted its unsteady attention to the oncoming dragon. Devoid of eyes, the beast relied on the shifts in vibrations and pressure to navigate the world. The circular maw stretched wide, revealing rows of jagged fangs shifting in contrary rotations.

Knowing the most viable option for killing this enormous predator was internal combustion, the dragon released a torrent of flame directly into the creature’s jawless face before flying over, attempting to impale the beast with his horned tail. The movement had been detected, however. Swinging its boneless head sidelong, the Nemat’s girth crashed against Sigusmondelon, throwing him down to tumble over treetops. Angered by the successful strike, the dragon bounded between the massive trees to dig his talons into the worm.

Grappling with the beast, he clawed his way up the wobbling creature until he reached a space near the middle of its exposed body. Digging his teeth into the meat of the Nemat, he tore chunk after chunk away from the creature’s body. With the hole bit open, the raven-scaled dragon released a violent flame into the wound of the Nemat. In retaliation, the beast threw itself sidelong into the trees, shattering branches, tree trunks, and shrubbery, attempting to crush the dragon. Seeing the imminent collision with the ground approaching, Sigusmondelon released his grasp, allowing himself to extend his wings into a short glide until his feet touched the ground.

The monstrous worm impacted the ground with such force a gust of air exploded from the beast’s form, sending debris thrusting out into a plume and filling the air with a thick haze. Being an experienced hunter, the ancient dragon crouched low, awaiting any sound or movement. Void of all signals beyond a clicking growl, the worm erupted from beyond the veil of haze, ready to consume its prey. With only moments to spare, Sigusmondelon curled his tail back and around one side, preparing for a desperate strike, hoping it would be enough to set the worm off course. Releasing the built-up tension, the mighty appendage whipped through the air, striking the indistinguishable head of the beast with all the force of a title wave, crashing upon a shoreline’s face.

Though only just, the impact was enough to guide the Nemat’s maw away from the dragon and back to the ground to his side. Sigusmondelon spun round, anticipating the wretched beast’s return to the surface. Deciding it was enough, the massive worm burrowed into the earth, leaving a crumbling tunnel in its wake. Using heightened senses to feel the tremors dissipating further and further, the dragon snorted, allowing the adrenaline coursing through his veins to subside.

Looking about the forest was an echo of former glory. Felled trees and a creator of incredible size littered the ground in recognition of the battle. The frantic noises of fear began to settle. Though the humans were no longer present, Sigusmondelon could still smell their fear upon the breeze as they fled westward. Shifting his thoughts to the care of the world, he began moving debris to cover the hole left in the wake of the Nemat; it was unlikely that the creature to return the same way in the future.

It was one of the reasons dragons were placed here, to protect the order of things, to help tend to the world’s needs, and to heal what was damaged or broken. With the forest in mind, the raven-scaled dragon sought out trees whose roots remained in the ground, even if their trunk was obliterated by the fight, and he breathed over them, causing new stems to sprout from the base of the old. He heard a shriek as though it were in his own mind while he brought life back into the forest around him. Looking about, he was sure the sound was wholly unfamiliar. Hearing it a second time, the dragon looked over a fallen tree to see the noise source.

It was a bundle of rags, shifting around, its path blocked by the tree’s trunk lying across the ground. The bundle shrieked again, wrestling with the tattered rags entangling it. Tumbling backward from the stump, the bundle rolled quickly into a patch of undergrowth before screaming again. The ancient dragon sniffed the air and knew this creature was a human child; though in all his years, he had never been quite so close to a human offspring, he knew it could be nothing else. Those foolish humans forget all sense when they fear for their lives. It was primarily disappointing to know that they would likely presume it dead if they realized the youngling was not with them.

Hearing a small voice distant in his mind, Sigusmondelon cocked his head slightly as he scrutinized the undergrowth now concealing the being. Focusing his mind, he reached back, attempting to find the voice that was speaking. There was something gentile, unaware even, about the voice’s essence, as if entirely unencumbered by the world. The dragon realized the sprite was a Moon Walker, though typically only able to cross the barriers of a mind while in a sleep state. It was said that younglings blessed with the magic of a Moon Walker could use this skill while awake or asleep.

“No, no, no, no, no…this is not good,” the small voice was repeating.

“What is not good, little one?” Sigusmondelon asked across the tether.

The voice almost hiccuped with surprise while the shuffling in the brush ceased. The dragon could feel the voice retreating as if attempting to hide. An amount of curiosity and uncertainty welled within the dragon, though he knew the emotions were not his own. It was odd to be impressed by another’s feelings so strongly after centuries of living without his old companion, Eka.

“You do not need to hide anymore…I will keep you safe,” the ancient beast nudged gently over the tether.

“I’m not hiding,” the soft voice sounded louder than before but still so unaware.

“You are not? I can hear you, yet I have not seen you; will you come out?”

“I’m stuck, and I can’t see.”

“Then perhaps I could help you. Would you accept that?”

The voice didn’t respond, but a sense of joy and gratitude was passed along the tether of their minds. The dragon leaned low until he lay on his belly; using one hand, he slid his arm across the ground until the bundle was again visible, though it was within the cradle of this arm this time. Gently as he could, the dragon used a claw to begin unwrapping the rags. The child tumbled out of the blankets unceremoniously before positioning itself to stand up. Having landed facing away from Sigusmondelon, the dragon had yet to meet the offspring face-to-face.

“What do they call you, youngling?”

The girl took in the great expanse of forestry around her as she teetered her way around to face the dragon. “Orva,” she replied, looking the dragon squarely in the eyes. Something about her gaze seemed to pass through deep inside the dragon with ease. He then realized there were memories that she may cross if he failed to remain attentive. Seeing this child so pure and unhindered made him desire to keep her safe, only allowing her to know the good and beautiful things of the world. To that end, he set paths in his mind that would guide her as she accessed his memories; impressionable as she would be for years to come, the dragon knew it would serve her best to be protected from the wicked things done by the human race.

Wars and kings begot more wars and kings, death and power seemed synonymous to humans, yet it didn’t have to be. There were other ways to gain notoriety. The world has forgotten their names, and few remember or recognize their fame. Power, however, is a steep slope that leads all who desire it to the pits of Nexelia. Often, it brings any who follow the determined individuals down with them. Little good was ever accomplished by setting humans in places of such influence; the dragon could remember every tremendous and small kingdom that had once been and are no longer.

He would protect this child until she was old, raising her as a guardian and caretaker of the world as the dragons were meant to be and as humans were intended to be. Day in and day out, the girl grew in knowledge of the world, understanding its beauty, how to care for it, and how to bend the tethers used to create the world to benefit all that was around them. The years from the moment of their meeting passed on, the sands of time tumbling ever forward. Until one day, they came across a rot on the south side of a tree. Though Orva healed the tree, it took significantly longer than typical, causing her curiosity to peak.

“Sigus,” Orva called, running along the undergrowth between age-old trees.

“Yes, Daughter of the Forest?”

“What was on the tree back there?”

“It was rot.”

“But it was not like other kinds of rot. It took far too long for me to untie its bind on the tree and bring life back to the damaged bark.”

“Some rot is testier than others,” he assured.

“You know I can sense your emotion, Sigusmondelon,” she pressed, “You were uneasy about seeing it, yet memories are guarded in your mind surrounding the rot. Why are you afraid?”

“Somethings are better left unknown, Daughter of the Forest.”

“I’m no child anymore, and I will not be frightened by it, but I sensed something not born of this world when I was untieing the rot. Tell me what you know, please.”

The dragon stopped and peered down at her while she came running up to stand before him. He could see that she was no child anymore; three decades had passed since he found her in the forest. It is nothing in the life of a dragon such as himself, but for the short life of humans, it is a great deal of time. However, she wouldn’t know the difference because she would live forever through the tethers of magic that bonded them. The only thing that would inform her otherwise would be interactions with other humans, of which they had little.

“You are no child according to your kind; that much is true. Yet compared to my life, you are hardly past infancy.”

Orva humphed, crossing her arms, “This is serious, Sigusmondelon.”

“More than you know, child….”

“So tell me, if it is as bad as you say, we must face it together. You raised me to be as a dragon is to be, a guardian of this world. So let me guard it against the rot.”

“The rot is only the beginning, Orva. It indicates that darkness is coming, an evil that will not rest until it commands all the lands. No beast or creature will survive without pledging fielty to the one who holds this power.”

“What do you mean? Why do you use words when you can show me?”

The dragon regarded her for several moments as he decided how to show her. This would break her heart in many ways. He knew her heart was pure and desired more than anything to protect and keep the world around her safe. Slowly he brought her into his memory. From a distance, they flew over skies of black plumes of smoke while masses waged war below. Fire lit the dark skies as dragons and riders fought to dominate the battlefield. Buildings burned while catapults launched salvo after salvo of flaming stones, crashing into castle walls and towers. Nothing but death, enslavement, greed, hatred, and war.

The one who did this is called Ommateum, and I fear he has returned, or perhaps his followers. This is what awaits us if we answer this call. He then showed her the death of Eka, his first companion. She dropped to her knees, laden with grief, anger, hurt, and a desire to change the outcome.

“We must go,” She whispered between heaving breaths of sorrowful tears. “We must not allow this ever to become a reality again.”