A Song of Shadow and Stone

The bells tolled in the distance, marking the night and warning the village of the coming offering. Every year this night comes and every year it haunts the forlorn parents of Wrenwood.

“We have been able to hide her for the last three summers, surely we can do it again,” Marron said as she paced the room, clutching onto a frail young girl. “If we take her to our spot in the forest, the guards will overlook her. Many babes were born this year, and they will be distracted with them”. Marron choked back tears as she looked into her husband’s sable eyes, silently pleading with him to give her and their daughter a way out of this despair.

“Marron, I…” Barret whispered as he stepped across the dirt floor of their cottage and wrapped his little family in his arms. His tears wet Marron’s auburn locks as he leaned into his wife, unsure of who was holding the other up. Marron could feel his lips move as he said, “I don’t want this either, but the priestess foretold that the girl will not outlive this illness. Perhaps the gods will smile upon us and take her to rest before the Knights of the Prophet do”.

“Either way, our girl will be taken.”

She looked down at the pale toddler whimpering in her arms and laboring for breath. The bells continued to toll across the village, one chime for each hour the firstborns of Wrenwood had remaining until their final dawn. Eight.

As morning broke, the air around Wrenwood was cool and dense with fog. Before the sun had a chance to burn away the grey cloud surrounding the village, the peace of the morning was shattered by the pounding of drums and the barking of men.

“By royal decree of King Veyron the Just, all firstborn babes are to be brought before the Prophet and offered as a trade for your residence on the King’s land,” commanded a low and booming voice from the heart of the village. “Any person found to be harboring a firstborn will also be offered to the Prophet as payment.”

A shadowy figure in a crimson robe was hunched in the center of the square, carefully watching as the Knights of the Prophet raided the wooden roundhouses and forced people into the open. One by one, the citizens of Wrenwood were yanked from their homes by the armored men and corralled into the square. Suddenly, a cry echoed through the crowd as a man in black steel plate mail dragged a woman toward the Prophet by her straw-colored hair.

“Stop, please! I swear I wasn’t hiddin’ him”, begged the woman as she was thrown to the ground in front of the cloaked man.

“You know the law, girl!”, yelled the knight as he raised his fist to strike her. The cloaked man waved off the knight and looked down at the young mother shaking in the dirt.

“Where is the child?”, asked the Prophet in a haunting voice.

“Swaddled in his cot, sir”, she replied and pointed to her hut.

The knight who had dragged the women into the square threw down a blanket-wrapped bundle in front of the crying woman. The mass hit the ground with a thud, and the wide-eyed villager scrambled backward, attempting to crawl to safety. Another man in black armor stopped the frightened woman and threw her toward the still, unmoving bundle.

“Open it!”, barked the man behind her, the sound of steel moving against steel jarred the onlookers as the man unsheathed his sword. The woman’s dust-covered face, now streaked with hot tears, pulled the deer hide blanket toward her. As the hide slipped away, it revealed a baby doll made from straw and weighed down with rocks. The crowd grew silent, quietly acknowledging the finality of this woman’s decision. Cold steel pushed its way to the base of her skull and nestled its sharp point into her fair skin.

“Where is the child?” asked the Prophet again.

This time, the woman looked up and defiantly stared into the inky blackness that hid the Prophet’s face, “Gone! You baby killers will never fin’ him."

“Oh, but we already did,” retorted the knight as he dug the blade further into her flesh and drawing blood.

The woman watched in horror as a bloodied man in wet clothes was thrown into the dirt next to her.

“We found the fool attempting t cross the Wren with a fresh babe on his back.”. He then walked forward and handed the prophet a wriggling burlap sack.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” whispered the kneeling man.

She looked back at him, a mix of love and terror in her emerald eyes.

The Prophet reached into the sack and scooped out a small infant. He waved his hand over the child and with frightening speed, the knights launched forward to seize the babe’s parents, forcing them to look up at the cloaked man cradling their one-month-old son. A haunting chant emanated from inside the dark hood as the Prophet set his on top of the child. Drums began to play in concert with his words, their bass notes echoing through the chest of each onlooker. Suddenly the child began to cry, its shrill scream slicing through the rhythmic chanting.

Then it stopped. An eerie silence fell over the scene as if all sounds ceased to exist at once. Dark smoke fell from the child’s mouth and pooled around its now unmoving frame. The Prophet pulled his hand away from the child and the black cloud followed, settling into his outstretched hand. With another drumbeat. two Knights stepped forward with an ornately designed vessel decorated with fierce beasts fighting within golden flames. The prophet threw his arm down and cast the inky smoke into the vessel. Another drum beat echoed, this time followed by the sound of steel slicing across flesh and the horrified gasp of an entire village.

“Oh my gods”, Marron cried as she turned her head away from the stage and into the shoulder of her husband. “They will kill us for hiding her.”

“Yes, I imagine that they will,” Barret said as he stared at the bodies of his slain friends, now lying lifeless in the dirt.

“I can’t let them do this.”

“What choice do we have? She is nearly dead anyway, the best thing to do is to turn her over and protect our future children.”

Marron clutched her belly and said, “What kind of mother would I be if I let them sacrifice our only daughter so that a man in a high tower can sleep at night?”

“You would be alive.”

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of the Knights ordering the crowd forward. One by one, the families of the village bent their knees and offered up their firstborn children. One by one, the children were turned into smoke and laid to rest in a gruesome pile on a cart behind the stage. No other families attempted to trick the Prophet, the spectacle at the start of the offering was enough to convince them to follow the king’s law.

Marron was unsure of how much time had passed, all she could hear was the sound of the drums, and all she could see was the pale face of her little raven-haired girl sleeping in her arms. Suddenly, the feeling of being shoved from behind broke her from her trance as she found herself in front of the Prophet.

“Marron and Barret Zahara, kneel and present your offering,” barked one of the men. Marron pulled the covering away from her child and let the cool breeze of the morning kiss its cheeks. “That is no babe!” exclaimed the guard, “How long have you been hiding her?”

Marron looked up at the Prophet and attempted to explain, “My lord, she is three years old. She is ill. I know that she will not survive the day, please grant us more time with her and let her go in peace.”

The Prophet shook his head, and the knight retorted, “Hand over the child, and you may go in peace.”

“I can’t,” she whispered and looked at Barret kneeling next to her. He nodded his head, silently accepting their sealed fate. Marron launched herself forward as Barret hurled himself into the Knight standing behind her. The knight fell over, completely unprepared for the sudden attack, his armor crunching and clanging against itself as he hit the ground.

“Run, Marron, run!” yelled Barret as he picked up the stumbling knight’s blood-stained sword.

Marron pulled her baby close to her chest as she hurtled toward the golden cauldron. She didn’t know what kind of evil magic allowed that thing to harbor the souls of innocent children, but that wasn’t going to stop her. With a roar, she kicked the vessel at the Prophet and then turned to run into the endless forest. Screams erupted from the village as a horde of dark shadows emerged from the vessel and took vengeance on the Knights of the Prophet. Marron refused to turn around to see what she had done and focused solely on escape. The sounds of flesh and armor being torn apart chased her as she ran headlong into the forest.

Marron had barely reached the tree line when she began to hear the crashing of footsteps behind her.

“Don’t let her get away! That witch must pay for what she has done!” howled the commander.

Arrows whizzed by her and slammed into the trees in front of her. Marron attempted to maintain her quick pace, but the forest floor was thick with branches and caused her to slow. A flight of arrows found their mark and dug themselves deep into Marron’s flesh, knocking the air from her lungs. She looked down at her child, its eyes half open and struggling for breath. The men were closing in on her.

Marron stood, unwilling to let her husband’s sacrifice become meaningless, and hobbled forward. The arrows jammed into her ribs and thigh burned, every movement causing more blood to soak her woolen tunic. The pain was unbearable, but not more so than the thought of her child’s soul being ripped from its body. Images of the Prophet waving his cloaked hand and murdering her friends rushed through Marron’s head and propelled her deeper into the forest.

Despite her best efforts, Marron’s body began to give. Her heart chaotically attempted to push the remaining blood through her veins, and her vision began to fade as she fell toward the moss-covered earth. After a moment on the ground, Marron was able to regain consciousness and rolled herself against a fallen tree.

Marron looked at the child in her arms and gingerly caressed its face, “My sweet Kyran, I’m sorry, but I can’t...I think it’s time we said our good nights.”

Kyran seemed almost lifeless as her mother spoke to her. Little gasps here and there were the only signs of life emanating from the small girl. Marron clung to each breath, savoring every second she was able to watch her child live. She decided that she would treat this good night like every other that came before and began to rock her child to the tune of an ancient lullaby.

The meaning of the lullaby was lost to the ages, but every mother in her family had passed the song to their daughters for generations. Marron’s grandmother had once told her that the song was magic and that it was a spell that would protect any child who heard it. Marron wanted to believe that, but the song couldn’t protect her from what was about to happen; perhaps, at the very least, it could bring comfort during Kyran’s final moments. She could hear in the distance the sound of the king’s men making their way through the underbrush: it wouldn’t be long now.

A cold wind suddenly screamed through the forest, ripping branches from the trees and sending a cloud of dirt into the air. Marron kept her eyes closed and continued to sing through the gale. The wind stopped and then started again as if someone was waving a massive fan to and fro in the sky. Marron looked up in utter disbelief.

A massive, grey dragon dropped from the sky and settled in the clearing twenty yards away from them. The large beast was easily as long as the tallest red tree in Wrenwood, with scales that looked like marbled stone and immeasurably large silver wings. It looked as if the Granite Mountain itself had taken flight and landed in front of them.

Marron peered up at the magnificent creature looming over her and shifted her weight to kneel. As she did, she continued to sing the ancient lullaby, praying that her grandmother had been right and thanking the gods that they had finally answered her. The dragon turned its head and locked its platinum eyes onto Marron and the small human she was now struggling to hold above her head. The earth trembled as the beast walked towards the little creature singing in its woods. Air swirled around Marron and pulled her forward as the dragon breathed in their scent.

Marron paused her song, “Please, take her. There are men coming to kill her, please save her.” As Marron uttered the final word a large javelin dug itself into the side of the dragon’s maw. A flood of arrows quickly followed, along with the shouts of the Knights that had finally caught up to the runaways.

The dragon huddled over Marron, arrows bouncing off its hide like raindrops. Quickly, the dragon turned to face the group of armed men running out of the trees and let loose a terrifying roar that caused Marron’s ears to ring. The air suddenly filled with an overwhelming stench that reminded Marron of lantern oil. Marron dropped to the ground and used her body to cover Kyran as the world around them exploded into flame. Then the forest fell silent, all except for the crackling of the burning trees and the hum of a frightened mother singing to her child. After a few moments, Marron lifted her head to look around. The dragon was now standing over her, mouth open and a red glow deep in its throat.

“Please take her,” Marron pleaded, this time, her body was too weak to kneel.

The dragon gently closed its dagger-filled mouth and leaned forward to touch its nose to the woman’s hand. A warm orange glow pooled under Marron’s skin where her fingers met the mountain dragon’s scales. An overwhelming feeling of the word “why” echoed in Marron’s thoughts, though she did not hear anyone speak. Without hesitation, Marron conjured images of her family and brought them to the front of her mind. Memories of her and Barret’s wedding day, Kyran’s birth, and many other happy moments flooded her brain. Her thoughts of love and joy quickly turned dark and fearsome as she recounted the horror she had just witnessed through the flashing pictures.

Marron pulled her hand away from the dragon’s stone scales and rested it on Kyran’s chest. “I want her to live,” whispered Marron, “I want-” Marron’s words trailed off as the world around her faded into black.

Kyran, wake up.

Kyran rolled over and snuggled further into the warm cloth surrounding her, too tired to open her eyes. The soft arms around her began to move and gently nudge her awake. The acrid smell of smoke and ash filled Kyran’s lungs as her senses slowly came to.

“Mother?”

Kyran’s eyes shot open as the warmth that surrounded her was suddenly pulled away and replaced by the sound of gnashing teeth and piercing shrieks. Four stone-colored dragons the size of draft horses launched themselves over each other, wrestling over the charred corpse of a wooly rhino. Kyran rolled out of their way and stomped over to the side of the dimly lit cave, irritated that she was woken up by her siblings in such a harsh way. She leaned down and pulled her wool blanket over her as she slid down the stone wall, keeping a keen eye on the four hatchlings pulling apart their breakfast. As she watched her brothers and sister gulp down their meal, the giant stone dragon leaned its head beside her and dropped a sizzling chunk of rhino in front of her.

“Eat, my child,” said Moonclaw, nudging the girl with her grey granite-colored muzzle.

“I had the dream again,” Kyran said, pulling her knees to her chest. “It was a creature with a face shaped like mine, but her skin was the color of summer wheat and she felt soft in my hands. I don’t know who she is, but I feel like I should.” Kyran wiped away a rogue tear from her face and looked down at her golden skin, the fire light bouncing off her metallic scales.

Eat. We fly today.

The words echoed between her ears as the marbled dragon walked into the depths of the abandoned silver mine. Reluctantly, Kyran sank her fangs into the gamey flesh.

Shortly after breakfast, Moonclaw herded the hatchlings and Kyran toward the entrance of the mine. Freezing air and snow whipped across Kyran’s face as she looked across the frozen mountain tops below her. Kyran’s sister, Snowfire, a white stone dragon with black ripples and bronze wings, nodded at Kyran and dove from the ledge. Kyran watched in awe as the white marble dragon disappeared into the endless sea of clouds. Without hesitation, the other three followed, blurs of obsidian, red stone, and granite sped past Kyran, shoving her closer to the edge. The ground beneath her feet was slick with black ice, and she couldn’t stop herself from sliding forward. At the last moment, four silver claws wrapped around her chest and heaved her from the ledge.

“Come child, it’s time to fly,” said Moonclaw as she positioned Kyran next to her and granted her permission to climb onto her back.

Kyran scrambled up the dragon’s leg and settled herself between two massive silver spikes at the base of Moonclaw’s neck. The climb was easier this time, she had grown nearly three inches since the summer hunts, which meant that she no longer needed much assistance to get to this spot. As soon as she was settled, the mountain dragon launched into the frigid air after her other children.

The snow made it hard for Kyran to see where her mother was going, tears blurred her eyes as the freezing wind stung her face. She could hear her siblings dancing in the storm and playfully spitting streams of crimson fire into the clouds.

“How far are we going today?” asked Kyran in her head. It was impossible to speak to dragons during a flight, the pounding of their wings drowned out the sound of Kyran’s voice and she had found that communicating with her thoughts was much simpler than trying to yell at a fully grown dragon.

We are going to the forest, it’s time for the Gathering.

Kyran had heard her mother speak fondly of the Gathering over the last thirteen years, but this was the first to happen in her lifetime. Every fifty years, the dragons of the realm convene to chart out territories and handle disputes without bloodshed. It is one of the few times dragons from other parts of the world can meet with each other peacefully.

You cannot leave my side while we are there. While the other dragons are sworn to cause no harm to their kin, that oath does not protect you. Kyran, you will be the first human to ever attend a Gathering, and the other dragons have no love for your kind. The magic infused in your skin will provide you some protection, but it will be of little use if one of the elders decides to have you for dessert.

My kind? I have never seen another human; all I know is the life of a dragon.

You have, child. The face in your dreams.

She doesn’t look like me. Her skin is soft and smooth, mine looks like yours.

It’s time you knew the truth. The face in your dream belongs to your true egg bearer, a human woman named Marron. She was hurt, and you were very sick, both of you were being hunted by a group of men wearing metal scales.

The grey stone scales underneath Kyran’s hands started to glow with warm orange light as images of a burning forest suddenly filled her mind. Kyran was seeing a memory through her mother’s eyes, one that Moonclaw had never shared before. The woman from her dreams was crumpled next to a fallen tree, her clothes bloodied and torn from an onslaught of arrows. In her arms was a sickly little human wrapped in a green wool blanket that looked familiar to Kyran. Moonclaw reached out with her silver talons and gently pulled the babe away from the lifeless woman, pressing the small bundle into her scaled chest. Twenty men in black armor ran out of the flaming trees and screamed as they threw a series of javelins toward the massive dragon. Moonclaw turned on her feet and bashed the line of men with her long tail, sending them sailing into the air. Then, just as quickly as she had landed, she left the meadow and flew to her keep deep in the Granite Mountains.

With a thunderous boom, Moonclaw landed at the mouth of the abandoned mine, a sight that finally looked familiar to Kyran. She watched through the dragon’s eyes as Moonclaw gingerly placed the tiny human onto an antique stone table of dwarven design. The baby barely stirred, appearing even closer to death than Moonclaw had expected. Moonclaw started to hum, and the cavern echoed the melody so purely that it sounded like a hundred voices were purring along. She raised her silver talons and softly pressed the tip of a single claw onto the toddler’s chest. A golden light rushed from the dragon’s palm and consumed the tiny girl in its fiery light. Several seconds passed before the glow dissipated and silence once again filled the cave. Moonclaw looked down at the little girl, hoping her magic had been enough. Bright yellow eyes stared up at her from the table, the tiny babe smiled and playfully reached up to pat the silver dragon. She allowed the little thing to touch her nose as she analyzed her work. The girl was alive, stronger than any human child ever would be, but the magic had changed her. The babe’s soft skin was now covered in bronze scales, her blue eyes were now golden, and her teeth were pointed like a hatchling. A feeling of pride and fear permeated the images in Kyran’s mind. Moonclaw was proud that she had saved the child but was terrified of how her magic had taken form in the girl.

Kyran’s vision returned to her as she looked out from behind Moonclaw’s spikes and onto the sea of foothills and grass below them. Not much longer now and they would be able to see the great forest.

Why are you showing this to me now?

It was time you knew where you had come from. The dragons at the Gathering will not be gentle toward you, and they will question your existence. You are strong and fierce, but more importantly, you are mine.

Kyran’s head was filled with questions. All her life, she had known that she was different from her flying family, but up until now, her mother had hidden who she truly was. Over the past few years, her mother had taken her on flights to the land of humans to see the villages and towering rock castles, but she had never been allowed to land. Moonclaw had told her stories of how cruel the humans could be and that she was better off staying far away from their world, so she had never even thought to ask about them. Even if she had been curious about the human land, how would she get there? Her home was high up on a snow-covered mountain, leagues away from the closest settlement. Even if she wanted to fly there, the skies west of their home belonged to a rival clan of mountain dragons and the forest between was guarded by the tiger-like forest drakes. Either way, it would never be safe for her to travel to her first home.

The thoughts swirling in Kyran’s head occupied her to the point that she didn’t realize how close they were to the forest now. Moonclaw started her descent and slowly dropped herself into the heavily wooded area. A short walk later and the pair were greeted by a chorus of roaring dragons circled around a flowing spring. The other four dropped down next to them in the same order that they took off. Snowfire, Ravencry, Redclaw, and Stormroar. The six of them strode forward and found a spot to sit among the council.

The dragons in the circle were howling in fervor, catching up on the latest events from across the realm. Thanks to Moonclaw’s magic, Kyran was able to understand the meaning of the symphony of roars clearly. The dragons next to them were in a deep discussion about the latest gossip.

“Did you hear that Rognaithe was seen sky dancing with one of those sand snakes?” asked an orange and black striped forest dragon to another.

“Can you imagine the hatchlings? They would be disgusting little mutts,” said the other, its orange scales flashing in the sunlight as it cackled.

As Moonclaw settled down into the grass, the other dragons turned to look at her. Immediately, the roaring grew louder as the council set eyes on Kyran. Several of the dragons launched fire into the air and spewed curses in their direction.

A large, gilled dragon the color of sea glass shot a line of questioning at Moonclaw. “How dare you bring one of those creatures to the Gathering?” it hissed, the fins around its head shaking with anger.

“Do you mean to have that beast take part?” sneered the forest dragon next to them.

Moonclaw shot a stream of fire into the air with such ferocity that the dragons around her ducked away from it.

Silence!

The order from Moonclaw shot through Kyran’s mind so loudly that she reflexively covered her ears. The glen fell quiet as the dragons hushed and looked at the stone with anticipation.

“This is my daughter, Kyran. Yes, she has a human form, but she has been raised in a dragon den. Per our law, any hatchling claimed, regardless of parentage, is allowed at the Gathering. This child will be no exception and I will hear no more of it!”, Moonclaw roared.

An ancient-looking, feathered dragon with the markings of a snow owl spoke up, “Then it is settled. Shall we begin?”

The dragons paused and a hushed murmur of side conversation started to build. Kyran held her breath, waiting for one of the dragons to protest, but after a moment, the entire Gathering roared as one. The Gathering had officially started.

“Moonclaw, you must understand that part of the uproar about your guest is due to the happenings in the land of men,” said the snow dragon.

“The king of men has started a war against us! In the last few weeks, he and his demon spawn have killed twenty of my kin!” hissed the dragon from the sea.

“Demons?” asked Moonclaw

“I don’t know what else to call them, they are dragons born from shadows and death. They come out of nowhere and are impossible to fight off. They seem immune to our fire and our bites don’t land because they appear to be in one place but are actually in another. Between them and the poisoned javelins, we haven’t been able to stand a chance.”

“We have had centuries of peace; the humans worship us as gods. What changed?” inquired Moonclaw.

“I can’t be certain, but word came to me that said the human king was searching for something. I have heard that he plans on killing every one of us until he finds it,” huffed the forest dragon.

A smaller dragon covered in spikes and the color of sand walked forward, “They are looking for her,” he said and shot his tail over his head like a scorpion to point at Kyran. “I heard one of the knights accusing my mate of taking a human child before her he murdered her in our den.”

Again, the dragons erupted into roars, this time unwilling to follow Moonclaw’s demand for quiet.

Why?

“There is tale of a prophecy in which a child that looks like a dragon will summon forth an army to end his reign. He is killing dragons and human children alike to prevent this from coming true,” reported the snow dragon.

“Drop her body at his gates and let it be done!” cried a mountain dragon from across the spring.

“Kill her before she ends us!”

I dare you to try. Touch her and I’ll rip the wings from your body!

The forest dragon leaped forward and launched itself at Moonclaw, attempting to tear Kyran off of her back. Kyran fearfully covered herself with her arms as the tiger-striped dragon gnashed at her with its ivory fangs. Kyran let out a loud cry as the dragon’s sharp teeth dug into her flesh. Suddenly, an explosive thunderclap leapt from her hand, sending teeth and orange scales flying in all directions. Kyran looked down at herself in disbelief. She was alive and the dragon that threatened her lay bloodied at her mother’s feet. Perhaps there is truth in the King’s Prophecy.