Descendants of Theeb

There weren’t always dragons in The Valley; once, it was a peaceful subsidiary to the larger realm of Eurvhime. Nonetheless, they are here to stay; the elders often say they are a blessing of the gods and a curse to man. The dominating quadrupeds sought asylum from none other than Ouranos when the dust settled following The War of Numina. Even after his kindness, their posture towards humans has been ever tainted by the ill will of the Reimkin who, for all their might and cunning, were no more than mear humans whose eyes fell upon that which they did not own nor would they deserve. Though the scaled wonders lived in harmony with Ouranos, his departure, yet shrouded in mystery and unexplainable events, has left them more volatile than the previous histories would lead one to believe. They are indeed beasts of wisdom, age, and unequivocal might; only an unfortunate soul to be pitied or a blundering fool would wade openly into their nesting place.

– Fafnir Son of Orion pg. 508, The Valley Codax, A History of War

Nithe threw himself to the earth behind a bolder in time enough to tuck his legs against his chest as immense heat washed over the stone, rushing past with the force of a storm and the sound of a hundred horses racing north across the Höffen Crag. With his face covered beneath his arms and turned toward his knees, he could feel the air warming and oxygen pulling away as it joined the flame that threatened to consume his being. As his lungs refused to bring in air profitable for breathing, his body trembled against the warming rock to his back with panic setting in. Should the breath of this beast last much longer, he would surely die from the inability to draw breath. The boy closed his eyes tightly, attempting to calm the tremor in his bones, which threatened to throw his limbs into convulsions while reassuring himself the heat would pass, and air would return in earnest.

The boy’s lungs tore open as the firey breath ceased allowing the atmosphere to collapse into the gap of oxygen left in the wake of flames. Sweat dripped from his arms and forehead, with the earth beneath him radiating the heat it absorbed. Glancing skyward between the gap of his forearm and upper arm with glassy eyes, Nithe could see both the serpent’s shape taking to the heavens, past the clouds, and the stone’s cap, which had begun to melt, running down its face. He labored a roll, placing him on hands and knees, breathing deeply as he did with lungs taxed and raspy, before setting one foot to the earth as he prepared to stand with the aid of the stone to brace against. Rising to a crouch with one hand pressed against his knee, the boy stood to his full height while still gazing skyward as he watched cautiously for the slithering form to return from the clouds above.

A brisk snort brought his gaze over the molten stone’s cap to rest on the scaled creature, who remained standing opposite the bolder him; its slim face resembled that of a horse’s snout, aside from the widening of its skull beyond its maw, which placed its eyes firmly at the front, a clear indication of the predatory animal it was. Its raven scales glistened with hues of scarlet, emerald, and sapphire beneath the sun’s rays, beaming through the clouds, while the color of the beast’s eyes on either side of the three horns decreased in size from the snouts tip were ever-changing in hue and brilliance. Nithe, as terrified as he was, could not but watch in wonderment and horror as the serpent’s eyes flared a smoldering orange while smoke rose from its nostrils and four horns bristled on either side the head, stretching taut sheets of membrane several shades softer than the raven scales. The beast’s formidable neck arced, drawing its head up as it breathed deeply, filling its chest until it puffed with air. The boy wanted to run, yet his body would respond to no command; his eyes were transfixed on those of the dragon before him. As it poised with maw wide to strike a breath of flame that would surely reduce him to ash, the child saw a radiant dance of red, orange, and yellow tumbling over as it welled up from the creature’s throat. Still, his body would not answer the pleading of his mind to run as his frame trembled with shaking breaths and snot racing from his nose; Nithe blinked several times to refocus the blurring image before him, sending salted water streaking from his eyes down his soil ridden face.

“Get down, you fool!” a woman cried, heaving his small frame from the ground as fire erupted from the dragon threatening to consume them both; the boy land unceremoniously on the dry soil next to her amidst an outcropping of rocks lining the basin’s wall. He scrambled to reach the woman’s other side, not caring who she was, while pressing his frame close enough to the rocky wall to have become a part of its face. For all its keen sight and hearing, the beast must not have caught their movement beyond the flame as it continued to pour molten heat over the place where he stood not moments before. The woman peered through a break in the stones over her shoulder, seeing the serpent search to and fro as it realized the prey had evaded its breath. She turned to the child, one finger pressed to her lips, then pointed up before tapping her ear.

As dark as their hiding place was amidst towering stones and the canyon wall, he could hardly make out her face but understood the signals to remain still and silent so as not to alert the dragon of their position. He adjusted his seating slightly with his eyes growing wide, suddenly becoming exceedingly grateful for the dim setting and overwhelming aroma of sulfur as his senses returned, alerting him to the dampened state of his trousers. Nithe was old enough to have put the days of soiling himself behind, yet his fear took the better of him as he stared death in the face. His mental wandering snapped back to the present with the thundering of four limbs sturdy as grandfather trees beating the ground, thrusting boulders across the basin floor. Though many knew the serpents were capable of treading lightly enough to stalk a deer, they were cunning creatures. Indeed, they also understood the results of striking fear in their prey to bring them out when their keen senses could not search them alone.

The woman taking dry soil into her hand, drew short lines with her smallest finger, mouthing voiceless words. Nithe clasped both hands over his mouth as an audible gasp broke his lips, catching sight of the woman’s eyes, which began glowing as her pupils clouded over a milk-like white. The serpent ceased moving, forced air through its nostrils, then sniffed the air, turning its armored head toward the sheltering pair. As it lurked ever closer, the only indicator of its nearness was a faint shadow beyond the rocks; the boy heard the woman voice a language foreign to his ears, but only just. The soil began swirling in her palm as though a gust were lifting the fragments, yet no such breeze was present behind the stones; the sediment twirled into a spherical shape before augmenting into an inverted funnel. Debris tumbled past the opening beyond their hiding place, followed by gusts of wind and clouds of dust.

The dragon’s talon rested atop one bolder, helping to create their sanctuary; growling a thunderous wail, it pulled the solid rock clean away from the outcropping, raining shards of soil, small stones, and young vegetation down on them. Nithe looked skyward to see the open jaw looming over them, lined with two rows of jagged teeth with eight at the front rising above the rest in size and width, hanging his life in the balance. Paying no mind, the womanas continued muttering words in a foreign tongue with her glowing eyes fixed on the inverted funnel of debris in her hand. A rumble shook the earth bringing pause to the serpent as it pulled its head away from the outcropping, searching the gorge behind. The woman, blowing the funnel off her hand, snatched Nithe’s wrist, and darted toward the canyon’s center with the boy stumbling in tow. As he struggled to gain footing, the boy looked to the distance, where he caught sight of rock, trees, soil, and nearly anything on the face of the canyon, lifting upward and being relocated beyond the lip of the rocky walls.

After assessing the tempest tearing toward them, the raven scaled beast dismissed it with what seemed to be a dismaying glare at the woman. It released hold of the outcropping and began stalking toward them, being sure to dig its talons into the earth with each step. The woman pushed Nithe to the ground, following him down as she knelt beside him, drawing a circle in the dirt around them, followed by six figures at even spacing around the circumference. She worked with a speed and focus the boy had never seen, though his eyes were more fixed on the terror before them, confused as to what she thought these drawings would do in the face of such a predator.

Finishing the last figure, she placed one hand on the soil, saying, “Adflö züe.” The drawings and circle lit a radiant green glow. “Remain here, Nithe,” the woman commanded, stepping out of the ring. The boy sat stunned as much by the sound of his name from a stranger’s lips as he was by the unfelt gust that whipped the woman’s woven auburn hair about her shoulders, not a moment after she left the circle. With a sureness the child had never seen in a human standing before such a formidable foe, she stepped to the serpent, leaving mear paces between herself and the beast. The ever-changing eyes of the dragon narrowed as it coiled its neck to snap at her; the moment before teeth the size of a man’s arm clamped shut on the woman, she spun effortlessly to the left, dragging a shoeless foot in the dirt beneath her. She danced a semi-circle around the serpent, who continued to swipe and snap at her, each time only reaching air in the wake of her evasions.

With each skirting, her arms created a fluid dance of motions like the sea’s waves crashing in, out, above, and around her form, elegantly wrapped in loose-fitting brown, tan, and green robes, draping in crisscrossing fashion, reigned in with a sash tied about her waist, orange as leaves before the coldest days of ventruz arrive, while her feet unrelentingly dug lines in the earth around the beast. She wore russet-toned bracers, each adorned with four amber crystals inlaid as a row, growing in size toward the hand. Her auburn hair was shaven on the right side with tight braids pulling the left side where it joined with a large braid that folded in on itself, crowning her head until reaching the back where all her hair seemed to be free to move as it ought, untied as it was. After completing a circle around the scaled terror, she firmly planted both feet shoulder-width apart as her hands joined together before her, then separated in opposite directions tracing a ring. Her hands rejoined for no more than a touch before she sent one hand out toward the beast with a war cry, “Peruro!”

Without warning, the ground encompassing the dragon erupted, sending splinters of stone, soil, and vegetation into the air, leaving a sweltering blaze in it’s wake. Taken aback by the unnatural display, the serpent returned a cry of frustration before stretching its wings, crouching low, and leaping into the heavens with one great thrust. The foreigner turned to Nithe, eyes still aglow, giving the boy pause. Was she a friend or another predator that only wanted him for herself? He forced himself to check the sky once more for signs of the nightmares he had survived, yet finding none, he returned his sights to the woman before him, who closed her eyes, allowing a deep-rooted breath to linger before exhaling. When she opened her eyes to meet his gaze again, her pupils had returned to a soft green. With the wave of a hand, the green glow encompassing Nithe faded to charcoal and flittered away, becoming fragments of ash on the wings of a soft breeze.

“We ought to get you cleaned off,” the woman sighed as her gaze searched him over.

Becoming uncomfortably aware that he was now under the light of day with clearly wet trousers, Nithe placed his hands in front, attempting to cover his embarrassment. He then looked at himself for the first time, seeing ash and soot smudges along his arms, legs, and clothes; dark as his olive skin became in the hot semmnu days, it was several shades darker than typical, while he could imagine dirt caused his hair, which flowed in waves, to seem lighter than its usual black. The boy opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say or what he had just witnessed. He scanned the basin floor noticing the fire beginning to fade from the ring the woman created around the dragon, then looked to the outcropping lying in ruin, then back to meet the soft green eyes of the woman before him.

“Come along, Nithe.”

“H…how? How do you know my name?” he inquired, shock-ridden.

The side of her lip curled ever slightly, though the smile failed to reach her eyes, which held a pitty as if to say she had not wanted to meet this way, “I have been a part of your life for many years, though you would not have known it.”

“What do you mean…Who are you?” Nithe voiced, taking a step back, shifting from bewilderment to hesitation.

The woman sighed, glancing briefly to the heavens, “My name is Raewynn. Now, we mustn’t linger; Sigusmondelon will not stay above the clouds much longer.” She turned and began for the canyon wall behind her, leaving Nithe to follow a few paces behind.

“How did you make the funnel in your hand and your eyes, why did they change; where did you come from, and…?” His voice died in his throat as she turned, causing him to nearly collide with her.

“There will be time for questions later, child. Now is not that time; follow me and do not dither. I don’t wish to face that dragon a second time in one day.” She was about to turn but stopped as the boy raised a hand, tilting his head slightly to the right while the left side of his lip scrunched up, causing him to squint the eye above it and raising the brow of his right.

“Wait, you called it Si..Sigumal..din?”

“Sigusmondelon.” She replied, slightly amused at the child’s attempt to speak the serpent’s name.

“How does it have a name?”

“They all have names, child; only most don’t know them,” Raewynn answered, turning about to continue toward the wall.

“Then how do you?” Nithe inquired as he ran up beside the woman.

“Some of us can speak to them.”

“To a dragon? That’s not achievable!” he retorted.

Raewynn shook her head slightly, glancing down at the boy trotting beside her, “It is indeed achievable, Nithe. Have you heard tell of Ouranos?”

“Of course, everyone knows Ouranos is why the dragons are here in the Valley; these lands were once peaceful; our ancestors even evaded the War of Numina.”

“Is that what they teach you?”

“The Elders tell of when the warriors from distant lands propositioned for an alliance to fight their war in return for precious gems.”

“Well, it seems there are portions of the history the Elders wish to keep behind them. Ouranos indeed invited the dragons after the war, but our people were not so innocent.” Reaching the wall, Raewynn placed the palm of one hand on the rock face, speaking, “Trogredia.” The earth rumbled as slabs of rock ground themselves out of the canyon wall creating a series of long platform-like steps rising from the basin floor to the lip of the wall. Nithe stared, awestruck by the woman’s ability to defy the natural order of things. She glanced back after ascending several steps, noticing the boy had not followed. “Worry not,” she bade him, “so long as I am here, these steps will remain.”

Hesitantly, Nithe placed a foot on the first step, stamping it several times, ensuring there would be no give once his total weight was upon it. Looking up to Raewynn with questioning eyes, he half-whispered, “I have no care for heights….”

“Yes, I recall that now…Take my hand, and we will walk together.” The woman said, descending the stone steps with her hand outstretched to the boy.

Drawing in a breath slowly, he reached out, taking her hand.

“Keep your eyes on the top, and we will reach it before you know anything else.”

The two started up the shelves protruding from the wall; as they reached a platform higher than any human stood tall, Nithe’s frame began trembling. His steps became more calculated from then on, following one shelf behind Raewynn. The woman noted his unsteady footing as his sight fell to the rocky floor below, then maneuvered him to stand alongside her on the side closest to the canyon wall while she tread near the edge. Though she did not mind heights, it was unusual knowing there would be no aid should she happen to misstep on the ledge. Having spent countless years in the company of others gifted with knowledge of how Theeb molded Yelion before ascending to pleasure himself on foods cooked over firepits in the sky.

What a wonder it would have been to be one who traveled the heavens with Theeb; it was said that when their time came, the seed bearer of the gods would meet the departing to guide each to endless feasting around the fires. Though Raewynn had reservations about the lore that had followed Theeb’s departure from Yelion, she remembered the gods from her youth when she vowed to rise, meeting their competency. That was before the Reimkin brought war against the gods when they lived in splendorous structures befitting their might and status, a place they called Elizium, where people served and honored them. Though not all cared to honor the gods. She remembered the Reimkin were a people group of the west as much as they were disgruntled individuals who developed a creed opposing the gods’ rule, wishing to absolve the gods’ authority, they brought war from the edges of Yelion. For all their mercy, their rule was firm raining calamity on those who opposed them, searching out and bringing an end to their adversaries. There is little more than relics and ruins that stand in place of the once magnificent Elizium.

“Raewynn?” the child called in a shaky voice, returning her focus to the present moment. “Why are the steps falling?”

Raewynn could find no dragon manipulating her work by searching the sky and surrounding landscape, but she felt an ominous presence gripping her shelving as her power strained to fortify the remaining steps. Glancing below, she noted the slabs collapsing in succession toward them before the wall began crumbling from the base. “Run,” She whispered wide-eyed. This was no dragon; though capable, they would strike and see fear rather than manipulate someone else’s work to bring about their end.

“What?”

“Run, Nithe; run!” she shouted, grabbing his tunic’s collar at the base of his neck, forcing him forward toward the top.

The boy scrambled up several steps before catching a foot on the edge of a platform, causing him to fall, bruising his knees on the slab as the wall shook, letting loose debris from above. Each misstep caused a loss of valuable time, bringing the crumbling shelves closer to their position. Raewynn tugged and pushed to get him over the steps where his feet missed; she wondered if it were a benefit or detriment to their slowing accent but dismissed the question altogether as the shelf before them crumbled into oblivion. Slamming her back to the wall, she jerked Nithe back into her arms while his feet ran over nothing but air in the absence of the recently departed stone. The woman could feel his chest rising and falling briskly while his heart drummed against the bone, prohibiting its exit from his being. Her eyes darted from crumbling stone behind them to those yet in place ahead, measuring the distance between platforms; the fall toward the basin floor would inevitably secure their death, a cost she could not allow to befall Yelion.

Though he had yet to learn of it, the child’s existence was responsible for binding The Keep of Nexelia closed; the horrors of this age are null in contrast to that which the gods sealed away upon their departure. “We must reach the next step,” she yelled above the throng of collapsing canyon wall. The boy tilted his head to look over his shoulder at her with worry lining his brows and mouth agape. Before he could protest, she grabbed the shoulder of his tunic and the hip of his trousers and threw him with every modicum of strength she could muster, sending the child into the air, limbs flailing accompanied by shrieks of utter terror. He impacted with the next platform, landing most of his torso upon the stone with legs kicking as he pulled himself to safety.

“Move!” Raewynn shouted, taking two slender steps as she leaped for the shelf. With eyes set on the edge of the following stone slab, she could feel the step beneath her feet give way as it followed the previous shapes plummeting toward the earth below. Her hands caught the edge while her legs swung forward freely, threatening to tear her grip from the stone. Nithe dropped to his belly, gripping one of her wrists in his shaking hands; the boy pulled as Raewynn grasped for the top of the step. The woman did her best to climb up, yet she was undeniably strained from the previous encounter with Sigusmondelon and the battle to maintain the remaining shelve’s stability.

Swinging a leg up, she caught the outer edge with her foot and lower leg, giving better traction to pull her body over the lip. As her frame rose closer to the platform, Nithe released her wrist, reaching instead for her cloak to help pull her over. Raewynn’s body rolled over the edge nocking the boy against the wall with a thud; she took the briefest of moments to close her eyes and recenter the hold she had on the stone making up the rest of their path out of the canyon. Sure she could maintain their stability, she rolled to her feet, bringing Nithe up by the front of his tunic. The boy, breathing heavily from the exertion mixing with ever-present fear, met her eyes with his, blue as an expansive ocean, as he looked toward the remaining climb. Raewynn nodded a silent packed to reach the top with him, then directed him forward with a hand on his back as they dashed wildly toward the top. As they crossed beyond each step, the woman mentally released the stone to do as it pleased under the weight of the opposing grip.

Though she had yet to lay eyes on their adversary, she could feel the power probing for weakness in her stone creation, giving her pause. Allowing her mind to follow the strain, she tracked the augmentation through the air reaching across the valley toward the opposite side; the closer her mind traveled to the source, the more potent their strength became. This was a foe to be warry of, but she would know who opposed her this day. As her senses reached the other side of the canyon, she was shaken to the core sensing the being notice her tracing their tie; her talent in tracing another’s augmentation back to the source had always been unmatched by peers, gentle as her mental touch on the flow of energy was. The unfound pursuer retreated their tie before she could locate their position.

Her opponent adjusted their tact for a more forward strike, sending a pulse of directed force at the slab they were about to cross onto, causing the stone to shift, angling toward the basin. Raewynn threw out a hand to stabilize the shelf, halting its movement but was unable, weak as she was from current events, to correct its slanting posture. Nithe slid before leaping with all his legs could give toward the next jetting stone, leaving the woman to lean toward the wall as her steps skid over the face of the stone until she reached the other side. After climbing a few more steps, a surge of energy slanted the platform beneath their feet, threatening to throw the pair back toward the eliminated steps; though both were set off-kilter, the woman leaned into the shift sensing the intention as it raced across the valley. The boy, however, had not anticipated the change, losing his footing, his shoulders leading back toward the concaved shelves, slamming into Raewynn.

Though she saw the impending collision, time was too short for bracing herself, causing both to reel toward the edge; with a single step between them and the drop, the woman wrapped her arm around Nithe and pressed off toward the lip of the canyon. Near as they were to the final slabs, her leap allowed her arm to catch the edge as their bodied attempted to become one with the wall upon impact, eliciting a moan from both. Pleased as she was to have made the jump, elation was stifled as the boy’s added weight caused them to slide back toward the basin below; the child squealed, clamping her arm under his own, across his chest. Raewynn clawed at the ground with her hand, probing for a grip until her fingers caught purchase on edge. The jarring halt to their fall shot fire through her arm as muscles tore from the sudden strain.

“Reach up,” she commanded through gritted teeth.

“I’ll fall!”

“I have you; now, reach up before we drop!”

Nithe shook his head in protest, “No, I…I can’t do it.”

“You must! My grip will not hold much longer.”

The boy reached tentatively for the ledge with one hand as Raewynn did her utmost to lift him closer with the arm around his torso. Finding purchase, the child gasped, “I’ve got it!”

Good; now, the other one!”

Sending out his second hand, Nithe gripped the edge and began pulling himself up with assistance from the woman pushing his thighs, then the souls of his feet. Once there, he turned over to grab her free hand, which she gladly gave. The two struggled for some moments until both were safely strewn across the ground. Feeling a final pulse of energy surging toward their vulnerable position, Raewynn threw herself over the boy pulling him over as she rolled to the opposite side. The ledge erupted with volcanic force as the woman shouted, “Tütaio!” erecting a barrier of compact air around them. With her eyes closed and the child’s face buried against her chest, her arm protectively wrapped around the back of his head, she waited for the dust to settle to see if her opponent would continue their pursuit, yet no unnatural movement caught the breeze.

Raewynn loosed her grip around the boy as he rolled off to the ground, landing on his back with heaving breaths. Exhausted as she was, the woman lay content to allow her body to throb, protesting the physical and mental strain she had subjected it to between dancing with the great dragon, Sigusmondelon, and the battle of wills between herself and the nameless Neflígo. The pairing of events seemed odd, unnatural even, yet Raewynn had no proof of anything beyond fate and happenstance to dispute the reality and compact time between events. With Nithe nearing his thirteenth year, it was possible events beyond her understanding had been set to place. After all, her work in Harlin a young kingdom in the far reaches of the west would have continued had she not sensed a storm brewing in the central plains enveloping The Valley, which instigated her travel to assure the boy’s safety.

“Are you a Neflígo?”

Nithe’s voice, though a whisper, startled the woman as they both continued staring at the opaque white clouds drifting in the sky above. “No, I’m what your people call a Whisperer; we practice the Söltea Cress.” She answered, matching his volume with her own.

“What is Söltea Cress?”

“An ancient form passed from Theeb to his children, allowing them to augment the world around them, bending it to their will. It is what the seed bearer used to create the world.”

“How did you learn it?”

“I studied.”

“Oh.” Nithe seemed to have more questions but was clearly overwhelmed by the events not long since passed.

“We ought to get you back to The Valley and clean you off. I have much to discuss with the Elders and your parents.” The two rose stiffly from the ground with every muscle in their bodies protesting. Raewynn made for the forest while Nithe followed some paces behind, considering how they would explain the events to his parents.