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by Jet Garner 2 months ago in Fantasy
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Chapter 1

The Land of Myln; hand drawn by Jet Garner

“There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley.” The Graybeard announced to the attendees of the ceremony. Altrex sat next to an empty seat, a seat formerly occupied by his closest friend and most trusted comrade. A comrade who would be recognized at this ceremony in the Alabaster Tower of Xanthir. The Alabaster Towers acted as places of historical maintenance as well as spiritual leadership across the land of Myln. The Graybeards were the caretakers of these cream-colored, decorative towers. This Graybeard, Onruk of Xanthir, had been raised from a child to occupy the high station of Graybeard. His simple gray robes adorned with only a thin silver belt at his waist. Funnily enough, his sternum length beard was white.

“Here in Xanthir,” Onruk continued. “We recognize the importance of the great conflict between the Zoxtreti, also called the Godchildren, with the creatures from another world we know only as, the Felimoths.” All around the great hall of the Alabaster Tower of Xanthir, many a commoner, soldier, noble person, and even kings whispered amongst each other. The Godchildren in the audience did not respond. Speaking of Felimoths were not so blasphemous to the Zoxtreti. “As a Graybeard, I am charged with the responsibility to discuss such creatures, as to remind all of the inhabitants of Myln why we live in the world we live in, as it currently stands.”

He continued, his large nose and priestly, beady eyes growing an intensity known amongst the Graybeard sect. “The Felimoths were gargantuan, lion-like beings with dark red fur and flowing manes that ran the length of their backs. The manes were of different colors, like human hair. It was never known what these different colors may have meant!” The crowd reacted with a little collective gasp, like they had never heard of the creatures before.

“However, as all of you here present today know, we had our own weapon against these beasts that invaded Myln from another plane. At our side we had, the Godchildren!” He thrust his outstretched hand into the hair as the crowd roared with applause. Onruk then lowered his hand, and with it his head as he brought both of his hands together in front of him, as if in prayer. “Which since we maintain such excellent records of history, we also know that as hard and fierce as the Zoxtreti fought and led their armies against the Felimoths, even some of the Godchildren were defeated. Their armies decimated against such a mighty foe.” Following his lead, the crowd all bowed their heads in mourning.

Altrex wondered how many of them bowed their heads out of custom versus how many bowed because they had any farthing as to what they were showing respect for. He looked again at the seat next to his own on the western balcony above the congregation. His assigned seat at this tower. He had an assigned seat at all three Towers of Alabaster. So was the empty seat next to him likewise assigned.

The Graybeard’s eyes rose as he scanned the audience. The cream colored pews filled to the brim with citizens and royalty of Xanthir. “With the Godchildren and their armies losing the last stand against the Felimoths, all of Myln was in terrible, terrible jeopardy. For if they failed, there would be nothing left to stop the Felimoths from sweeping the land and extinguishing all life in this world.” The congregation was silent. Every eye watching Onruk.

“Just as the final stand took place in the Valley of the Gods, the sky suddenly lit up! Lit up a brilliant orange and powerful red despite the battle being fought in the darkness of the Great Eclipse!” Some of the crowd gasped. Some of them raised hands to their mouths as if they had never heard this before in hushed alleyways their entire lives. Many watched in legitimate doe-eyed wonder. “The Godchildren themselves along with their armies looked skyward, confused and nearly defeated, and readied themselves against the sudden light. It is said that even the otherworldly Felimoths stopped, and looked to the heavens. The Zoxtreti themselves report that this was a most amazing moment indeed. Because in that moment, that very moment! They saw something in the feline eyes of the Felimoths they had never seen before…”

Onruk trailed off, the crowd waited at the edge of their seats. Altrex thought about that specific moment. He remembered it very well.

“They saw fear!” The Graybeard shouted.

The crowd went balistic with that declaration. Standing ovations erupted all over the great hall. Altrex remained seated. He also did not clap.

Onruk of Xanthir continued. “As the whole world of Myln watched the fiery sky, it became apparant what was causing this thematic phenomenon. Massive meteors, larger than a house nay, the size of mansions, appeared in the heavens. Dozen of them!” It was everyone’s favorite part, Altrex thought. He thought again. Maybe their second favorite, anyway.

“It was then that the Felimoths began roaring in protest and hate, the Godchildren and their respective armies thought that perhaps the Old Gods had granted them victory through total annihilation.” Onruk paused for dramatic effect. “Perhaps an apocalypse held a better future for Myln than the Felimoths having their way with it.” Again, the crowd lowered their heads solemnly. Again, none of the Godchildren present did. They remember bracing for the impact. They remembered preparing to die.

“But!” The Graybeard shouted, pointing into the air. “Just as the meteors came falling towards the land surrounding the battlefield and within it, something unexpected happened.” He paused again, and the crowd froze with him. “The meteors began taking shape. Moving, and changing. They no longer resembled giant rocks engulfed in flame. Even while still burning from the passage into Myln’s atmosphere from the heavens, they began writhing within the fire.” Onruk paused again to glance around the audience's faces, ensuring their attention. Altrex wished he would get on with this. He had mixed feelings about these meetings every hundred years to discuss that troubling battle. Sometimes he enjoyed protecting the citizens of these different lands of Myln. Sometimes, he hated them.

“Just before they impacted the ground,” Continued Onruk. “The flames of each meteor whooshed out, and dozens of yet more otherworldy creatures were slamming their giant clawed feet with mylnquaking thuds all around the battlefield. Many members of the several armies fell from their feet from the tremors caused from the arrival of the winged beasts.” Onruk stopped to wipe his own brow that had grown sweaty both from his performance as well as what he was describing. He went on.

“Armies of the Zoxtreti regained their composure as quickly as they could. Every sword, axe, spear, and spell held at the ready for this new threat. The Godchildren, all linked by their respective birthright, communicated without speaking to each other that they should accept their fate. That they should prepare to die fighting with their respective armies. In this critical moment,” The Graybeard recited. “Godchild Altrex,”

We have arrived, Altrex thought. Why I disdain these petty mortal ceremonies of remembrance.

“In a wild rage after the death of Godchild Litrian, threw himself headlong towards the nearest Felimoth.”

All eyes of the congregation looked towards the balcony that they knew Altrex sat. The balcony they were told he always sat. Because none of them were old enough to have attended the last ceremony honoring the Felimoth War. Onruk, now very excited, roared to life for the climax of the tale.

“Altrex, in his characteristic black and gold armor with the likeness of a flame, the crest of the House of Altrex, emblazoned on his chest in the same red as his streaming hair, his eyes glowing with the tell-tale yellow light of the Godchildren, raised his legendary spear made specifically for him called Altrexell, faced the fearsome Felimoth charging at him head on. But before the Felimoth and Altrex collided, one of the great winged creatures launched towards the Felimoth, intercepting it in mid gallop.”

The crowd was roaring at this point. The ushers standing beside the dias where Onruk of Xanthir stood were trying to settle them down enough to hear the words the man spoke.

“The winged giant clamped its fearsome crocodilian jaws onto the Felimoth’s back. Using its large fore-paws, it sank its talons into the Felimoth, and tore both halves away from the deadly bite.” The crowd, still excited, watched noisily in awe of the story that they always wanted to hear the details of. Only a Graybeard was authorized to release such precious details of the ancient battle. “The Felimoth hung limp and torn asunder, hanging from the reptilian jaws like it was merely a large cat in the mouth of a wolf with both sides dangling bloody to the ground. Bright blue blood out of a dark crimson beast. The blood of the Felimoths.”

The crowd slowly fell silent as they yoyoed with emotion throughout Onruk’s words. Altrex looked again at Litrian’s chair at his right side, and placed his hand firmly upon the arm rest. He squeezed the armrest until he felt it start to crack under his grasp. Altrex released his grip, but kept his hand on the armrest.

“Altrex, who had been prepared to die in this duel against a Felimoth, stood in shock and awe at the sight. These creatures were here to help, not to battle with the armies of Myln.” Onruk then bent slightly, bringing his arms up as he hunched over them, motioning with his hands for emphasis like a storyteller over a campfire surrounded by children. “Then, with a fierce battle cry both physically and in his mind to signal all other Godchildren as well as his own army into battle, Altrex charged forward towards another Felimoth that was sprinting on its large feline paws towards the back of the blue armor scaled creature that had saved his life.”

The crowd waited with finger chewing anticipation. The entire hall was silent. Even the ushers and guards surrounding the dias looked to Graybeard Onruk.

“Before it could pounce, Altrexell, the great spear of the mighty Altrex, pierced through the side of the great Felimoth’s neck with such force that the other side of his spear was visible jutting out of the other side of the creature. As he stood there firm, holding aloft the Felimoth with his spear while covered in bright blue blood over his dark armor, his army sent out a cheer that is said to have been heard by all the lands of Myln with its thundering ferocity.

“That, my children, is where Myln got its renowned statue and symbol of our joined peoples. The statue of Altrex holding the Felimoth aloft with his spear, immortalized forever throughout Myln.”

With that statement, thousands of yellow rose petals, the symbol of the Zoxtreti, were thrown into the air by the congregation. The contrast of golden petals and white pillars of the hall was as palpable as it was beautiful. The crowd was loud, but with tears in their eyes.

“It was then that the Army of Altrex charged forward towards the front where the mighty Felimoths all met their match against these mysterious reptilian saviors. The winged lizards charged and tore at the Felimoths like nothing the Armies of the Zoxtreti had ever seen. Their fiercest foe, the unbeatable Felimoths, were being decimated by these fantastic rivals.

“Following suit, the other Armies of the Zoxtreti also charged behind their respective Godchild general against the Felimoths with the aid of this new ally. This final stand that would eventually become known as the battle for the Valley of the Gods, marked the beginning of a new history that affected all of the Kingdoms of Myln.”

Most of the crowd held cloth to their faces at the telling of their modern world. Questions they always wanted, but weren’t allowed to discuss as they were considered blasphemy. A decision the Godchildren unanimously did not support. It was indifferent to them what the lands really thought or knew. The past couldn’t be changed, nor the future negatively impacted by the knowledge of such important events. The Graybeards had their laws though, and were allowed to uphold them throughout Myln.

Onruk continued, now holding back tears of his own at the monumentous event. He glowed with a smile while telling the final pieces of the tale.

“This unparalleled victory against the mightiest foes ever recorded to wage war against the armies of Myln would never be forgotten. This victory of course is also remembered for the fateful arrival of Myln’s powerful new residents at that time.

“The Dragons.”

With those words, there was movement and great wingbeats behind the dias where Onruk spoke. Beyond the cream colored pillars on the outside of the tower, aquamarine colored wings that appeared to be thick, veiny membranes between darker azure armored scales carried a creature into the hall that very few got to see on a regular basis. The azure hued Dragon landed on a special dias next to the Graybeard pulpit prepared especially for a beast of its size to land without dangering any of the great hall’s populace. It looked around the room comfortably as it gauged its space to land without disrupting the tower or injuring itself.

Altrex looked over at this creature he recognized. It was the lead Dragon of the house of Litrian, although that house was being occupied by another Zoxtret presently. The Dragon that saved his life hundreds of years ago after they both saw Litrian slain. It was that noble act of Litrian’s death that caused the Dragons to form loyal bonds with specific Godchildren in an effort to rebuild Myln and ensure yet more balance, and protection from enemies close to home, and from far away. The audience looked at this creature with wonder, amazement, and without doubt, fear.

Onruk waited for the Dragon to settle itself and get comfortable before he spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, royalty and priests, I present to you Aarthtook. The great blue Dragon under the House of Litrian, the leader of Xanthir’s own protective Dragon squadron. Were an enemy present, Aarthtook’s squadron would ally with the armies of the twin Godchildren Rithen and Riven in neighboring Selengard to aid us against any foe. It is Aarthtook who slayed the Felimoth that killed our own Godchild leader, Litrian, that day four hundred years ago at the Valley of the Gods. Aarthtook, we welcome you as your humble servants.”

Every King and queen, prince and princess, noble and commoner, dropped to at least a knee in a deep bow of their heads. Some dropped to both knees and put their faces to the floor. Altrex stood for the first time and looked down to Aarthtook. As if he could sense it, Aarthtook looked up into Altrex’s eyes. Both held each other’s gaze for a moment.

“Honor be to Litrian.” Altrex spoke into the Dragon's mind.

“Honor be to Litrian. Good to see you, Sir Altrex.” Aarthtook responded to Altrex.

“Rise!” The Graybeard commanded. “Be seated.” All rose, and returned to their nearby seats.

“After the battle was won, the Godchildren and the Dragons worked together to rebuild the destroyed Kingdoms of Myln over nearly one hundred years. During that reformation, select Godchildren rose to power and the Dragons separated into squadrons and matched up with those Godchildren creating powerful alliances between Zoxtreti and sects of Dragons. A solution that has held balance, and brought general prosperity to the Kingdoms of Myln for four hundred years!”

A cheer roared through the hall as the audience erupted at the mention of the great alliance. One they all benefited from. It was all they had ever known. Altrex remained at his feet, his hands resting on the twin hilts on each hip. The mighty Altrexell on his back.

“It is that great alliance,” Onruk continued. “That we celebrate this ceremony every one hundred years to commemorate our prosperity, to show thanks to the Godchildren, and of course to show gratitude and honor the Dragons who allied with them. Lastly, we have this ceremony to honor the fallen from the Felimoth War that ended four hundred years ago today. A war that lasted a decade, and that the Armies of Myln would never have defeated if the Dragons had not arrived. We shall now honor the Godchildren that gave their lives during that decade of fighting. I apologize that we cannot name the innumerous mortals that perished during that period. We honor them as a unit, nevertheless. All raise your chalices.”

At that command, the audience did as instructed.

Onruk looked to Aarthtook.

“Honorable Aarthtook, will you give us the honor of repeating the names?”

Without acknowledging the Graybeard, Aarthtook addressed the congregation as the representative of the Xanthir Dragons. His voice was deep and steady. Its baritone and decibel was enough to vibrate in the chests of everyone at the assembly without much volume.

“Greetings.” Aarthtook began. The audience nearly stepped back a step at the mere power in the voice. Dragons didn’t exactly have voices meant to speak to mortals so close to themselves.

“It is a great privilege for me to tell you kings and lowly folk about the magnificent individuals that were taken from us from the jaws and claws of the Felimoth.”

Aarthtook took an even more serious visage, if such a thing was possible for such an intense creature. Dragons never smiled, but they could scowl.

“Originally, there were eighteen Zoxtreti. I did not have the privilege of knowing or fighting next to all of them. When we Nasimal came to the aid of the free lands of Myln against the Leraus. We preserved as many Zoxtreti as we could after we landed. Sir Litrian was the last Zoxtreti to fall.”

Altrex looked at the monument of a blue lizard. Practically a God in its own right. A lizard that meant more to him than nearly any other living creature anymore. So few things meant anything to Altrex in the modern world. He was a relic; an out of place force in this modern world. With the Dragons around, he and the rest of his kind were obsolete. The hollowness of his existence was suffocating.

“Without further delay, I will name these heroic figures.” The Dragon said, and began reciting names.

“Madam Vana of Selengard. Sir Deranct of Faereth. Madam Menephela of the Puti Region…”

Altrex listened to the names of Godchildren he knew. Men and women of intense renown. Some of them were part of his training cadre centuries ago. Many of them were older than he when they died. Killed by nasty feline monsters from a different existence.

“Sir Drant of Selengard. Madam Mirith of Xanthir…”

Altrex always thought it was odd how the Felimoths sort of just appeared one day. Such a perfect creature for defeating the Zoxtreti. Simply poof one day, and they arrived. Very similar to how the Dragons arrived. Where did they even come from? It was a question he had thought of countless times before, but still plagued him occasionally. Like a scratch at the back of his throat that he had for four hundred years. Hearing these names always brought that lump returning to the back of his throat.

“Sir Utral of Feareth. Madame Zanthia of Ivorywood. Madame Geishal of Anger Isle. Sir Darkirk of Xanthir.”

Only one more. Curse Aarthtook for naming him last. Altrex thought. Although he supposed he couldn’t blame the Dragon. Litrian was significant to this realm as well as the lizard itself. He wished the sting of it would go away. Finally leave him after all of this time…

“Finally, Sir Litrian of Xanthir. May they all find everlasting peace in the afterl–”

As Aarthtook was saying the last word, a hot shard of light the size of a mature aspen slammed through the Dragon’s head, nearly splitting it in half. Bright red blood and brains sprayed the audience of the great hall, and the great neck of the lizard came careening down to fall among them. Its body falling forward onto the crowd.

Altrex’s eyes went wide and his hands immediately went for Altrexell, drawing the spear and humming it’s unique tone with his mind, activating it. His eyes shot to the other Godchildren’s balconies where they sat. Rithen and Riven stood similarly to himself. Both had weapons drawn as well. Altrex hadn’t seen Riven’s ornate scimitar in ages. He saw Rithen’s spell aura about him as well. They were also caught off guard by the attack.

Altrex looked down at the panic below. The Dragon’s body had crushed a handful of guests. Some were trying to help crushed colleagues out from under the beast. Others were fighting with ushers trying to leave while ushers and guards tried to keep everyone inside for fear they could be releasing the assailant. He saw a guard strike a king in the face with an armored glove for trying to use his rank to get by the Alabaster guard. They had their own responsibilities to the Graybeards; a visiting king’s intentions hardly bothered an Alabaster guard.

It was pandemonium.

Altrex looked at the dead Dragon. That had to be a Zoxtret strike. Melviana had been missing for centuries after a dispute with Rithen and Riven about Xanthir. Altrex certainly wasn’t involved. That left only…

Altrex looked over to the balcony where Gilmere and Werval normally sat. Gilmere was there. Where was Werval?

“Gilmere,” Altrex spoke directly to him. Gilmere looked over at him. “Where is Werval?”

“I’m not sure.” Gilmere replied, his spell aura drawn around himself protectly, glowing golden. “He was here earlier. He must have snuck away sometime during the naming of the fallen. I didn’t notice.”

Altrex suddenly sensed something. He thrust Altrexell with his right hand to the left of his body and blocked a sudden shard of light. He ducked a second at the last second, the shard cutting a slice on the side of his dark helmet. A third blocked at his back by a reverse block over his shoulder with Altrexell.

“Nice to see you again, Altrex.”

Altrex slowly rose from kneeling. Rithen and Riven were staring at him incredulously. Gilmere drew his aura around him offensively, the air crackling around him as he searched the sky and air for anything of threat. They had heard the voice too, but didn’t get attacked. That voice. It isn’t possible.

A floating form shimmered into vision from being totally undetectable a moment before. Directly above the great hall, slightly higher than the Godchildren’s balconies, hovered a figure Altrex had not seen in four hundred years.

“Darkirk…” Altrex said aloud in disbelief. “H–how can this be? You’re de–”

“Dead?” Darkirk finished for him. The other Zoxtroti could also hear this telepathic communication. Rithen, Riven, and Gilmere all likewise stared in shock and confusion.

“We saw you die!” The brother and sister screamed in unison at Darkirk.

Darkirk rotated slowly to face them.

“How can you fly?” Gilmere asked.

Darkirk ignored all three of them, and looked down at the congregation.

“Look at them all.” He spoke to the four other Godchildren nearby. “Look at their panic. Do none of you miss power? Miss ruling them?”

“We do still rule them.” Riven said. “We let them have their kings and their queens. Their way of life. We are guardians, not rulers. We and the Dragons, we prot–”

“You’re weak, that’s all.” Darkirk yelled aloud, otherworldly. “All of you are merely, weak.” His voice sounded in multiple tones.

With that, he thrust his hand into the air as his feet came apart. He was drawing an aura. As Altrex watched, he couldn’t believe any of this was happening. First Darkirk was alive when they watched him be taken away by Felimoths. Second, the color of the aura he was drawing. It wasn’t golden like the other Zoxtreti.

It was red.

Altrex looked down at the chaos below them. Darkirk is going to kill them. Altrexell spun up over his shoulder into a javelin position. Altrex gathered his aura around him, his eyes shining golden. The air popped and hissed around him as he gathered power, and he launched Altrexell with all of his strength towards Darkirk.

A bolt of hot light intercepted Altrexell and sent it spinning out into open air. Altrex reached his hand out to call the spear back to him. On its return, it was intercepted a second time by another bolt of light. Before Altrex could try to call the coal colored weapon back to him, he was struck by a bolt of light himself.

He was thrown against the wall behind him, his left shoulder smoking. His right hand found that shoulder to find blood pouring from it. What in the name of madness is going on?

He looked across the chamber and finally saw Werval, perched on a pillar on the over side of Darkirk. His hands were outstretched towards Altrex, a sad look on his face. Altrex looked to the other three he could trust. Gilmere was trying to form a golden shield below Darkirk in an effort to block whatever he was preparing. Rithen and Riven were both in mid air throwing themselves towards him. They had leapt from their balcony as a pair and were hoping to engage Darkirk in the open air.

Werval started gathering his aura about himself again, his hands spinning mechanically.

“WERVAL!” Altrex shouted into Werval’s mind. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Werval looked at him directly in the eyes from dozens of meters away. The moment was theirs. Rithen and Riven in mid air, in the slow motion in Altrex’s mind, closing the gap between themselves and Darkirk. Darkirk, his spell nearly done gathering power, had a giant, writhing, pulsating red mass still growing above his outstretched hand. Altrex was disarmed and wounded. Werval looked at him with a look that broke Altrex’s heart.

“I don’t have a choice, Altrex. I am sorry.”

“What do you mean you don’t have a choice? Why don’t you have a choice?” Altrex asked his old friend.

“He will bring balance. Everything is out of balance.” Werval said.

Altrex’s own panic started to seize his chest.

“Werval,” Altrex said softly, even for telepathy. “This won’t bring balance.”

Without releasing Altrex’s eyes, Werval shot a net of power from his aura and it slammed into the brother and sister who had almost reached Darkirk. Snared, they hurled through the air and over the edge of the tower into open air.

“Goddamnit Werval!” Altrex roared. Furious, Altrex pulled one of his swords from its sheath at his hip. He sprinted to the edge of the balcony and used his other hand to gather aura.

He shot the ground at his feet and blasted himself high into the air above the amphitheater. His aura sparking gold, his eyes shining, he blocked one, two, then a third bolt from Werval with his scimitar. The bolts deflected into pillars, splitting them in half and falling towards the crowd.

After the apex of the jump, Altrex was falling towards Darkirk and his foul aura, whatever it was. He blocked another bolt with his scimitar while he fell from Werval, the lance of light cleaving one of the balconies off of the side of the hall sending it plummeting to the floor. Altrex didn’t like endangering the populace below, but he had no choice.

Darkirk brought his second hand to meet his first and flexed mightily, casting the seized power towards the middle of the great hall.

“Nooo!” Altrex pleaded, but it was too late.

In a blink, the aura exploded into the mass of confused chaos inside of the great hall. The impact was silent at first, still, and then exploded with a loud cracking boom.

In a final dramatic flip at the end of his descent after being thrown away by the blast, Altrex landed in a crouch atop a pillar just as it gave way from Darkirk’s spell, and he was falling again. Riding down the large piece of marble, he caught a fleeting glance at the carnage at the top of the tower.

Most of the people had been blown apart so completely, that little was left except a pink mist. The mist was quickly becoming replaced by marble dust and debris as the tower’s top began to crumble. Altrex searched for movement of any kind during his plummet, trying to keep his balance while he looked.

Suddenly, the pillar top he was riding stopped in mid air. Altrex looked down and saw the rest of the top of the tower crumbling below him. Darkirk had just blown the top off of an Alabaster Tower. He had killed a Graybeard. He had killed half of this continent’s leadership.

Then his pillar piece was moving, lifting him up towards Darkirk on his invisible perch. Altrex was still extremely puzzled at how Darkirk was hovering. That wasn’t something Godchildren could do.

Then they were face to face. Darkirk floating, Altrex on his floating pillar top at Darkirk’s behest. He had a terrible smile on his face.

“You know, Altrex. I’m surprised I bested you so easily.” Darkirk said.

“What have you done?” Altrex replied.

Darkirk’s smile never wavered. “I’ve just started undoing things that never should have been done in the first place. The world is out of balance.”

Altrex scowled. “We brought balance. You’re a madman.”

“Wrong Altrex.” Darkirk said. “You’ve never seen balance.” Then he dropped the pillar.

Altrex worked fast to control his descent with his aura. With a leap at the end of the fall, Altrex rolled twice upon hitting the ground. Looking up at Darkirk high above, tears welled into his eyes. I need to find the others. Altrex thought, and wiped away the forming tears.


About the author

Jet Garner

Enjoying my journey getting into fiction while occasionally dabbling in stories from my war times. Aspiring novelist and daydreamer. World nomad. Currently in Hawaii.

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