Dragons of The Jangham

Chapter One  "Tactic"

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," shouted Alethia to Spud, her apprentice seated behind her on her amethyst drake, Belchamg. They wheeled high over the smoking chasm between mountain ridges-- The Jangham, which had been granted to all races of dragons, where humans never set foot. The valley opened out towards the sea in the east.

Belchamg raised his head and blasted a roar with fire across the sky as they left The Jangham behind. He sped his passengers north towards The Emeron, a vast forest, which had once been Alethia's home.

 Spud had been hanging on to the ornate saddle for dear life, while Alethia's golden hair stung his eyes, and the turbulent winds above the mountains tossed them upwards, and then dropped out from under them suddenly.  But once past the ranges that bordered the valley, Belchamg descended, and the air became warm and still.

"I... I didn't know that," said Spud, who always felt that Belchamg eyed him like a midday snack.

"It's true," continued Alethia. "It was kept empty, a grassland, a beautiful hunting ground before the practice of Meld, the taking of a dragon. We came too close, us and them-- we lost many people, many dragons. The valley was granted for the undoing of Meld, for the broken dragons to find themselves among their kind. It was many years ago, a time almost forgotten. But it is not good to forget."

As the light began to fade, a dark line appeared on the horizon and grew. Alethia spoke in a language that Spud didn't understand, and Belchamg whistled through his nostrils and climbed back into the heights to disappear into the thick bank of clouds that usually covered the forest, the moist breath of The Emeron.

Alethia guided him with her legs, asking him for a wide circling above the clouds. She leaned down and called, "Ghaelbrrren". It meant "Go black", to cool and fly without any glow of fire. They would be hidden from everything below, as the moon rose and the night turned silver. But even with the clouds, she knew their presence might be felt. 

Belchamg's wings sounded like sails on a ship flapping in the wind, and the saddle and harness leathers creaked. Spud became drowsy, but Alethia couldn't sleep. Belchamg's aim would have to be perfect. She would ask him for his first divestop in earnest.

They had performed the move with caution in training and exhibition, over and over. But this time she would ask him for a full speed divestop, the most dangerous move in dragon riding, and it would not be a festival stunt, but a war move. The hatching was close, and there would be no time for any other plan to be carried out, should they fail.

They would rest now, wheeling in the air until just before dawn.

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We pause for this break... as I learn to submit my first Vocal story...

We now return you to the story in progress....

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"Take Spud with you," Lorgad had said, placing his hand over a list of warriors who, in Alethia's mind, certainly should have been appointed before Spud.

She lifted her head and dropped her eyebrows. "Father, he isn't trained."

"This will be to his advantage when the time comes," he answered. "You will not have heroism, or bravado, or the temptation to physical combat from Spud-- just dedication to a simple task. He is smaller, will not have armor, and will be lighter weight for a double-ridden dragon. He's done the flight with warriors three times, only to turn back. This time it will be different, but he has no knowledge of that, no plan, no hint of image in his thoughts."

Alethia nodded. "Belchamg will have a long flight. Perhaps it is a good plan."

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Gorm knew the weakness of his position. He'd reported dragon presence three times, and brought the entire realm to extreme readiness. But all three times soft winds had blown through The Emeron and no danger had come.

Gorm was not a dark reader. He did not awaken the spirits to inquire of them, but used his intuitions freely as anyone might sense the Knamg - the constant quiet song of knowledge that pulses throughout world and sky. In time, he had come to trust himself enough to report a reading. That was years ago, before the Emeron had fallen to Dalng. Gorm's village had been one of the few that was not able to flee in time.

He doubted himself. Could he still read? Or perhaps his senses were expressing his own hidden desire, as the lords of this land now strained against the Knamg with their agendas. Gorm made his way to the stronghold near his village in the south of The Emeron, and requested an audience with Dalng.  He was made to wait.

Eventually there was a sound of heavy bolts moving, the massive gate swung open, and guards bade him enter. He was led through dark passages to the high table, where Dalng was seated with the others on the Council.

Gorm did not look up. "There is a dragon present, Lord".

The council murmured and Dalng slammed his fist on the table.  "And what would you have me do", He raged, "Shall I rally every life that is under my command to readiness again?" 

"There is a dragon, Lord. This is the fourth presence in three months.  I beg you to consider that this may be a tactic."

"What good is a reader who cannot read a tactic?!" bellowed Dalng with a wave of his hand. "Take him!" Two soldiers grabbed Gorm and removed him from the room.

Dalng knew better than to execute Gorm, who'd had years of accurate readings. The night approached, and he would not sleep well.

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"Spud, wake up," said Alethia, shaking him. “It is time."

"No, my lady!" cried Spud, "I have been sent to stop you, and commanded not to tell you until now. We must return peacefully to Abranad."

"I know, my little Spud. But not this time. We plunge into The Emeron, and you yourself are called upon to retrieve the egg." Shock spread across Spud's expression. "Clear your mind," she continued, " You will have only an instant to take it, while my sword flies. Expect it to be heavy. Then we must flee on Belchamg."

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Just before dawn Gorm stirred in his cell, and his chest fluttered.  There was a brief ripple of doubled intent, and then he saw what had eluded him.  They had used a child.  Of course.  He sprang to the door and fell against it.  "They are not turning back this time!" he cried.  But the jailers ignored him. 

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Alethia cued Belchamg and he cried, rolled to face the earth, beat his wings once at full strength - an action of unimaginable force, and then pasted them to his sides in a powered plummet.