Dragons of Renden

Chapter 1

Do Not Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. At least, that’s what my grandmother used to say. When I was a boy, she scolded me for even talking about dragons; she said it would bring bad luck. That somehow, speaking about dragons would manifest them into being. It must have worked; talk of dragons was common in the taverns among the discourses of surly men. As a child, I remember my father’s fist hammering on the dinner table whenever rumors of dragon attacks reached the valley.

But then came the day when none of that mattered. Now there was one less dragon in the world, and it was lying right before me. Short of breath, tunic torn, and pants stained with urine, I stood staring at it. My heart thumped in my ears, and I noticed a metallic scent in the air. Had I been shamefully burdened by an ego, I might have been tempted to claim victory over this colossus. But I knew the gods were laughing at me, as I trembled from the mere sight of this ferocious beast. If this dragon were alive, the cedar branch in my hands would provide me no aid. Still, I clung to it tightly for comfort.

I had seen dragons a few times before. Though, if I am being honest, I didn’t really see much. The first one was too far away to observe, and during the most recent attack the dragon was shrouded in smoke. How sad, that my most prominent memory is of a dragon attack. What I remember most about that day was the screaming -- not just from the women and children -- but the men and livestock as well. My father draped me over his broad shoulders and raced to the underground shelter, towing my mother and grandmother behind. The bouncing motion of my father’s running made everything look blurry. A piercing shriek from above assailed my ears, yet curiosity forced my head to lurch upward. And there, somewhat obscured by the bright rays of the sun, was a tiny dot hovered in midair, its wings flapping powerfully. I can say with all sincerity that, at the time, I didn’t think of that dragon as a threat. I was fascinated by it. However, as I looked down at my mother’s face, twisted with fear, I knew instinctively that we were in trouble.

Ten years had passed since that dreadful day. An army of dragon slayers flooded the valley and hunted every one of those foul creatures to extinction. Or at least that’s what we believed.

Five years ago, a group of tradesmen said they heard terrifying sounds coming from the mountains to the north. Our elders feared that it would only be a matter of time before the dragons made their way further south into The Renden Valley. The people banded together in a massive fortification project. Barriers were erected, check points were placed along the trade routes, and a watchtower was built high on the ridgeline. Everything was coated in a strange sap-like coating that was said to be fireproof. The elders exhorted everyone with a strong back to do their part. I wanted to help, but my frail body could never seem to keep up with the tasks given to me. Many in the village began to see me as a burden. Because I was unable to pull my own weight, there were those that joked about using me as dragon bait.

The village celebrated when the work was complete. The festivities lasted for days, and people walked about the village confident in the newly erected defenses. Our strongest warriors took turns atop the ridge, watching the skies to the north. A large cylindrical bell was hung to provide early warning. But the golden age was not to last. Over time, our confidence gradually dissipated. Eventually, a pervasive sense of doom gripped the village, and we began to expect the dragons to return.

Six months ago the attack came and despite our tremendous preparations, we were not ready. It was cold that morning. A light mist cascaded over the hills and ridges to the north. The air felt different than usual -- like a cold that cuts through all clothing and flesh. From the south a single dragon swooped in and destroyed the tower before the bell could be rung. But it did not matter, the entire village saw the ball of fire rise into the sky. As planned, the women and children bolted for the shelter. Thankfully, the slower pace of the elders and young children delayed their arrival, because the shelter was the second structure the dragon destroyed. Now, everyone knows that dragons are dangerous. However, the true strength of dragons does not reside in their size or the power of their flame; it is their intelligence, and their ability to adapt, that makes them so formidable.

We watched helplessly as the dragon easily ripped through our defenses and set everything ablaze. The special coating that was supposed to protect us turned out to be ordinary tree sap. Our strongest warriors mounted a final head-on charged against the serpent. In hindsight, this was easily the worst strategy imaginable. With one lash of his mighty tail, the dragon struck down our warriors. With our finest champions vanquished, the dragon had free reign and incinerated everything in the village within ten minutes. By the end of it all, half of the villagers, including the elders, were killed and most of the livestock had been eaten.

That day we learned that dragons ruled supreme over this world. At some point, in the height of our bravado, we forgot that man had developed its fighting skills by observing the dragon wars of ancient times. Legends tell of several epic battles involving hundreds, maybe thousands, of dragons. Imagine it, a sky full of winged, fire-breathing serpents jousting for glory. To this day nobody really knows how the wars were started, how they ended, or even which side won. But one thing was clear, heroes and gods were born from these battles. Many of the men and women, who watched from below, studied the fierce creatures. They learned their tactics, adopted their strategies, and freely shared this information with one another. Rapidly, a new breed of dragon hunters and monster slayers emerged. Regional alliances formed and the dragons began to decline in number. After the dragons ceased their internal fighting, they mysteriously disappeared for several centuries. There were those who thought they had become extinct. While others thought the dragons were laying low, waiting patiently for a time when they could strike again in full force. However, during that lull, the mightiest clans of men rose and battled one another for dominance. The lust for power and control eroded the peace and unity that had once pervaded these glorious lands. Hatred festered, which inevitably led to a gruesome war between men. A century passed before the five most powerful families claimed dominion over all regions of the known world. In the North, the House of Hartnot prevailed as the strongest clan. So powerful was this house that even the dragons thought twice about attacking their central palace in Gordhoth. Not wanting to rely on the dragons to keep the Hartnots in check, the houses of Tymfold, Betvert, and Magolith, formed the League of Valendar. They built a massive wall segregating the mountainous north from the central lands. The league developed trade routes and a common currency. Far away from the large settlements, in the southernmost part of Tymfold, my tiny village rested in the Renden Valley.

Eventually, the prophecies of dragons returning came to pass, but the humans were not about to cede power to them again. So, a massive war between humanity and the dragons began. Songs and stories tell of great men wielding exotic weapons, capable of slaying hordes of dragons with a single stroke. But the dragons did not acquiesce; they kept up their assault. Most of the legendary tales end with men dying in glorious battle, which is why I never had much ambition to become a warrior. My feeble stature aside, sacrificing myself for the sake of glory just seemed counterproductive to my health. Eventually, ancient, forbidden magic was used by wizards to curse the dragon population into ruin. The attacks subsided and an undeclared peace settled over the world.

Unlike other children in my village, I had no desire to emulate the famed warriors of old. Still, now that a dragon was actually in front of me, I understood why some might glorify those legendary dragon slayers. I couldn’t take my eyes off this gigantic creature. The size of it was overwhelming. How could any one man take down something so big? At full gallop, a horse would take thirty seconds to encircle the thing. And, unless I was mistaken, this was a juvenile, like me. My focus suddenly shifted to a songbird that landed on the beast’s large, segmented horn. My head cocked with curiosity at the sight of this vulnerable creature who was seemingly unfazed by the dragon. That horn might as well have been a tree branch. It fluffed its plumage and chirped a harmonious melody. Hearing its sweet song I lowered my guard and felt courage begin to fill my soul. I took a step forward, then three steps back. Tentatively, my feet inched closer; the fetor coming from it curled my nose. And with every blade of grass I crossed, the heat emanating from its body intensified.

I paused for a moment and thought aloud. “What if it’s still alive? This thing chased me for a long time before it fell. What should I do?”

“You should run back to the village and get help. That’s what you should do,” a loud voice said. The dragon swept its tail across the ground, churning up dust and knocking down a few saplings.

“By the Gods! It is alive!” I yelled.

“Yes I am...” The dragon’s body moved as though it were bound by thick, invisible ropes. Still, the dragon moved its head closer toward me. Opening its massive eye, the serpent’s pupil became thinner, and the iris shifted from green to yellow. “...but more importantly, how did you do that -- bring me down?” It asked in a subtle and polite voice.

“I-I d-d-d-...”

“You don’t know, huh? Well I think I may have an idea.” The dragon tilted his head and looked up, then back at me.

“...I-I di-didn’t kn-ow dragons c-could speak,” my trembling voice barely broke above a whisper.

“You didn’t? Well then, I guess human education hasn’t changed as much as I thought in the last hundred years. Listen, Boy, while it’s true I was planning to kill you after a playful game of Dragon and Sheep...”

“A game of what?” I asked. My curiosity overcame my fear once again.

“...I believe you humans call the game Cat and Mouse. Anyway, seeing as I am bound and flightless, I would like to barter for my freedom. So, let’s make a deal. If you release me from this binding spell you’ve cast, I’ll fly you home. How does that sound?”

“No!” I yelled fiercely. “Your kind has killed my people and haunted our dreams for years. You chased me all morning and into midday! I’m tired, my trousers are soaked and...”

“I noticed,” the dragon said with a mischievous smile.

“...and I see no reason why I shouldn’t leave and let you rot right here!”

“I can think of a reason. You’re lost.” The dragon replied.

“I am not. I know exactly where I am,” I retorted. But with a quick glimpse of my surroundings, I knew the dragon was right. This area was unfamiliar to me.

“The wild is no place for a young, uneducated fool.”

“I’m educated well enough; I have enough common sense not to trust a dragon.”

“You can cast binding spells with common sense?” He scoffed.

“I didn’t cast a binding spell!”

“Obviously you did, Child, or I wouldn’t be pinned to the ground. Wait a moment, how did you cast a spell if you are uneducated?”

“I’m not uneducated and I can’t cast spells!” I stomped my foot in anger. “How do I know you’re not pretending to be lame in order to bring me in close enough to strike?”

The dragon laughed. “Oh you poor, simple boy. For one thing, dragons are very prideful; pretending to be ‘lame’ is beneath us. You’d know that if you were educated.”

“Stop saying that! I’m....”

“...And secondly, Boy! You’ve been in my striking range for a while now,” he said smugly. The dragon’s words struck a chord of fear within me, and I retreated several meters, then looked back.

He shook his head slightly. “Still within range.”

I retreated further behind a large boulder. “How about now?” I asked.

The dragon blew a small ball of fire over my head and hit a tree nearby. The flames scattered onto the forest floor. “Still in range,” he replied.

I cowered behind the boulder, drenched in sweat. Smoke filled the air as the flames began to die down. I was at my wit’s end, and my mind strained to find a solution to my problem. Should I run for it? Should I try to kill it somehow? What should I do?

“Sythrawl...” The dragon said plainly. I peered from behind my stone shield.

“My kind, they call me Sythrawl,” the dragon repeated. “What’s your name, little boy?”

“Sigurd... Sigurd of Renden.”

“Well, Sigurd of Renden, my offer still stands. Release me and I’ll take you home. Even if you don’t trust me, I’ve at least proven that I’m not going to kill you. After all, I would have done it already, right?”

“I suppose. But I can’t release a spell I didn’t cast. And even if I did cast it, how can I undo a spell?”

“It’s easy, anyone can do it,” Sythrawl said with a calming smile. “But first you need to touch me.”

I glanced quickly at the cedar branch in my hand and replied, “I don’t think my stick is long enough.”

“No, I mean physically touch me with your hand,” Sythrawl replied with a roll of his eyes.

Timidly, I emerged from behind the boulder. “You swear you won’t kill me?”

“I swear I won’t kill you.”

“You promise to take me home?”

I promise, by my honor as a dragon, I will take you home.”

Madness. It must have been madness. There was no other explanation as to why I was walking toward a dragon with intent to release him from bondage. Whatever the reason, I soon found my right hand on the dragon's back. His scales were thick and bigger than my head. Each overlapping plate felt slick, yet bumpy, like a turtle’s shell.

“Wow, this is amazing!” All my fears washed away, and a smile graced my face. I could feel his gargling breath and his heartbeat. I couldn’t believe it. I was touching a live dragon!

“You done, Kid?” Sythrawl asked, somewhat annoyed.

I snapped out of my trance. “Oh yes, sorry. What now?”

“Now repeat after me... Sal-Qugroff. It’s a releasing incantation in the dragon tongue.

I took a deep breath and spoke. “Sagroot?”

“No, it’s Sal-Qugroff. It sounds like Sal-Groth, but different. And be sure to speak with authority,” Sythrawl counseled.

I cleared my throat, “Sal-Grath!”

“No it’s Sal-Qugroff, Sal... Qugroff. Say it!”

“Sal-Greth!” I replied.

“You’re just trying every vowel, aren’t you, Boy?” Sythrawl asked with annoyance.

“I don’t know what that means!” I snapped back.

“Right, I forgot, uneducated. Okay, let’s take this slow. Say ‘Sal’.”

“Sal.”

“Very good. Now say ‘ke’.”

“Ke,” I repeated.

“Okay, now try saying ‘Groff’.”

“Groff.”

“Excellent! Now put it all together.”

“Sal-Qugroff!” A bright yellow light shimmered around the dragon’s body. Transparent chains of gold manifested and then snapped, releasing Sythrawl from the spell.

“I did it!” I said, gleefully.

“Yes, you did.” Then, in one lightning-fast motion, he swept my body up with his tongue, snapped his jaws around me and swallowed. Sythrawl rose to his feet in a long stretch and cracked his neck.

“Sorry, young Sigurd of Renden, but there was no other way.” And with a final stretch of his wings, the dragon took to the air.

Initially stunned by the fast motion, I quickly realized I was alive! I don’t know how, but he swallowed me without chewing. Terrified out of my mind, what shallow whimpers I could make were masked by the beast’s rumbling innards. The darkness was not half as insufferable as the heat. The sweltering stuffiness had me clawing at the slippery walls of his gut. The dragon banked violently, throwing me off balance. I slid about on my back in the sticky ooze and began to cry. A valve above me opened and a cool blast of air entered the cavity. I could see a faint glimmer of sunlight. Images of my mother, father and grandmother flashed in my head. How I longed to see them again, just one last time.

The space above opened again and through the gust of air I yelled, “Let me out of here!” I scrambled to reach the opening, but Sythrawl banked again, knocking me off my feet. “Damn you, Dragon! You promised you wouldn’t kill me! You swore! You swore!”

The tears running down my face were impeded by dragon slime. A loud thud shook the whole cavern and I fell once more. The walls vibrated and the chamber began to fill with more slime. The ooze reached nearly to the top of the chamber, and I found myself swimming in mucus. The vibration of the walls intensified, and the oily muck began to oscillate. But before I could react, the valve above opened again and my body was catapulted through it.

A huge wad of mucus hit the ground with a splash. I was free. Or so I thought. My lungs were filled with the viscous sludge and my body naturally heaved, expelling a small mass of dragon slime. Without the strength to keep myself on all fours, I collapsed onto the stone-hard ground. Taking time to catch my breath, I noticed I was lying in a limestone cave with elongated nodules protruding from the ceiling. The sound of dripping water was soothing but was soon replaced by a gurgling noise coming from behind me. Suddenly, it dawned on me, I was in Sythrawl’s cave. Unable to find the strength to stand, I settled on the courage to speak.

“You... you lied to me!”

“Did I? When?” Sythrawl replied.

“You said if I set you free, you wouldn’t kill me.”

“You don’t look dead to me. And trust me, I know dead things when I see them. I’m a dragon.”

Taking a moment to process his words, I managed to get on my knees. “Yeah, well you also said you would take me home.”

“I did. Here we are,” Sythrawl said with a smirk.

“This isn’t my home!” I barked. “My home is...“

“In the Renden Valley – yes, I gathered that much,” Sythrawl said patronizingly. “If you recall, I never said which home I would take you to. This is my home.”

“Please, take me home. To my home, I want to see my family again.” I pleaded.

“You really want to travel back the way you came?” Sythrawl opened his mouth wide.

Each of his teeth stood as tall as a man, and there were dozens of them. Drool bridged the gap between his upper and lower jaws. Bits of bones were wedged between his teeth and gums. It was a horrifying sight. His pointed tongue was so massive, it looked as if it could kill an adult with a mere flick. After giving it some thought, I realized it was a miracle that I had survived the journey in one piece.

“Why must I travel in your stomach? Couldn’t I just ride on your back?” I asked.

“Clearly you don’t know much about air currents or centrifugal force. Without a saddle or a harness, which I refuse to wear, you’d be blown off my back and hit the ground before I even knew you were gone.”

“You could carry me,” I suggested.

“I tried that with a horse once.”

“And?”

“Let’s just say it fell... and now there is a farmer with... half a horse in his field.” Sythrawl opened and closed his claws slowly in reflection. “In my defense, I thought I was being gentle with it, but after that incident, I decided to go with our standard way of carrying things and use my second stomach.”

“A second stomach?” I asked.

“First lesson about dragons, Young Renden: we have a second stomach. This organ does not corrode or dissolve whatever we swallow, allowing us to carry a variety of goods and materials.”

“Really?”

“Yes. How do you think we transport treasure from place to place? We can’t just sit on it forever. If you ever see a dragon flying back and forth for hours, they’re probably making a ‘treasure run’,” Sythrawl joked.

“That seems really weird and time consuming. Not to mention gross,” I replied, looking at my slime-covered tunic.

“Second lesson about dragons, Sigurd of Renden: we are smarter than humans. By a lot. So don’t question us or our methods.”

Sythrawl’s tone shifted, and I knew I had touched a nerve. “Fine, I won’t. Can we go now?” I asked, approaching Sythrawl’s mouth.

“Well that depends.” He recoiled, slightly.

“Depends on what?” I asked.

“On whether Gorgoth will allow it.”

“Who is Gorgoth?” I asked.

“The higher dragon of our clan. He’s the one who will determine if you go home or not.”

“Why wouldn’t he let me? What reason do you dragons have for keeping me here? What do you want from me!”

“Third lesson, Boy!” A thunderous voice echoed through the cave. I covered my ears with my hands, and I saw Sythrawl do the same with his wings. A gargantuan dragon approached from the depths of the cave. I could feel the vibrations of his footsteps through the ground as he drew closer.

“Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with gravy,” Gorgoth admonished.

He lowered himself and glared at me just as Sythrawl had done earlier. His eye was so large, it looked bigger than Sythrawl’s head.

My mind went blank. Sheepishly I whispered. “Hello, Sir.”

Gorgoth grumbled. “Sythrawl, why did you bring this scrawny child here?”

“Simple, really.” Sythrawl settled down behind me and softly nudged me closer to Gorgoth with his wing. “This boy is a mage -- and a powerful one.”