Dragonsong- The Quest Begins

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Flower sprites, pixies, dwarves and satyrs had existed in that place since time out of mind. Every now and again a phoenix would find a tranquil spot to roost there; among the boughs of ancient Golden Oak trees which were so tall they caressed the clouds.

The mighty river which split the Valley into its upper and lower meadows was the territory of undines and merfolk. That river, called Vena Dei, or the God’s Vein, brought with it rich red clay that made the land exceptionally fertile. It was said that a few handfuls of clay from the banks of Vena Dei could turn a wasteland to a jungle, teeming with all manner of plant life within weeks.

A herd of unicorns grazed the upper meadow of the Valley. Centaurs split the lower with an order of witches and warlocks whom they bartered with for tools, weaponry and medicine.

Each month the most hardened of the centaurs would hitch themselves to heavy wooden carts and form a caravan. They would lead a party of magical adventurers and their wares across Vena Dei, through the upper meadow, and begin the long journey to and from the Eastern market place in Jaal.

Seldom was there conflict in the Valley. Where small feuds did crop up they were swiftly adjudicated over by Summar, the guardian spirit who lived in a stone statue in the middle of the river. So long had she been there that the statue, which once resembled a many-turreted castle, no longer had any discernable features at all. The people of the Valley called the stone Manus, and they deferred to Summar in all things for they lived under her protection. She was just, and patient. In the long memory of the Valley she had never one led her denizens astray.

In all, it was a peaceful existence in the Valley. But dragons had never been seen there. Never. The very idea was plain absurd.

According to lore, the greatest, most noble of the sky beasts made their homes in the gem filled mountain caves along the eastern ranges of Aeternum. These caves were so high up that even the dwarves, who coveted precious stones above all else, left them bitterly uncontested.

The lower and most savage of their number preferred the harsh, arid lands surrounding Ramos, King of Volcanoes. It was a perilous land filled with rivers of lava, and Ramos belched plumes of acrid smoke that rendered the sky black as night even at high noon. For such tempestuous creatures it was a fitting home.

In the Valley, even among magical beasts and people of every kind, the great winged beasts remained the stuff of legend.

***

“But could they enter the Valley? Could dragons join us and live here, if only they knew the way, Brother Vazal?” asked Klay, for perhaps the millionth time in his short life.

Klay was a warlock, or at least one in training, and he tried his mentor Vazal’s patience sorely. He couldn’t help it. Each and every night he dreamt of one thing and one thing alone.

He dreamt of soaring through the sky on the back a dragon.

Instead of lessons Vazal often found hour after hour’s worth of childlike dragon doodles scribbled in Klay's workbooks. Scolding from his parents had changed nothing and punishment of all kinds were meaningless. It could not be helped. The young warlock was simply obsessed with dragons.

Vazal sighed. “As I’ve told you, young Klay, even if you wrote one an invitation with a map attached they would not be allowed here in the Valley, a fact for which you should be grateful. Summar protects us from fiends of all sorts. Her protective barrier would keep them entering. And if they did get in it would be chaos! Utter chaos! Blood! Death! Gore! Summar forbid!” He shuddered at the thought.

“They’re not fiends! Not all of them anyway. Just the ones in the Barren Lands of Ramos…” Klay stared off sullenly. Vazal had given him his first tome on dragons to begin with, just to pique the young warlock’s interest in his letters. Now he heavily regretted it.

“Even the ones in the great mountain ranges. While those are well learned and can command fire, wind, and lightening, their nature is as mercurial as the elements themselves. In a fit of pique they might destroy both the land and its people. Is that what you want Klay?” Vazal asked, not unkindly.

After a moment his young charge sighed and shook his head. No. Of course he didn’t want that. He loved the Valley, it was his home. It was the home of his friends, of his family. It was not their fault that he grew bored.

And Vazal knew that Klay, while stubborn and oftentimes easily distracted, still had a gentle, generous spirit. He was just too young to know what dangers lay in the wide world. And Summar forefend he should ever find out, Vazal thought.

“One day, Klay, if you so wish you can join the centaur’s caravan. Then you can spend some time adventuring, even look for dragons if you please. Hanabi was asking about your progress only yesterday.”

The leader of the centaur band was Hanabi, the clan’s matriarch. She alone would approve the list of travelers each month. It was rare for her to inquire over a student, especially one as young as Klay who was only 103. Warlocks and witches in training typically graduated at the age of 300.

“What did you tell her! Brother Vazal, oh what did you say?!” Klay asked, suddenly very interested. Vazal sighed again. If only the young one would be as taken with his studies. Ah, well, he thought, looking into Klay’s eyes and seeing nothing but determination there.

Vazal rose from the embankment of the Vena Dei where they sat together among the crocuses and scarlet verbena. He bowed his head respectfully in the direction of Manus and gestured for his student to do the same.

Klay scrambled to his feet, gathering up his magical staff. He jerked his head towards the statue of Summar where it jutted out from the river and followed in his mentors wake. His heart pounded in his chest. The next caravan was less than a week away. “Please! Brother Vazal!” he pleaded as his mentor plodded along silently. “What did you tell her?!”

Not everyone learns the same way. Some learn by reading, some by doing, and who can say for sure which way is best? Vazal reminded himself.

He turned back to his charge and pointed one long, bony finger at a section of the field where massive fire lilies bloomed in droves. Instantly a section of 5000 orange blossoms was cordoned off on all four sides by a wall of blue light.

“I said that you were brave. And capable. You do your best thinking on your feet, outside of the box so to speak, and you have more grit and stamina than anyone your age I have ever met before in my long life. But your mind wanders more than it should. This obsession of yours, to see the dragons, and fly with them makes you unreliable. It stops you from focusing on the task at hand. In the wide world such carelessness often proves fatal. So if you really want to make this journey, I will have to cure you of your flightiness here and now.”

“I’ll do anyth…” Klay’s voice trailed off when he realized what his mentor had in mind. Vazal grinned. It was not a smile Klay liked.

“Anything?" Vazal finished for him. "Good! I’m glad. I thought you might say that. Before the next caravan departs I want you to divide the lilies in the box by color. Half you will turn purest yellow, and half ruby red.”

Vazal watched emotions battle across young Klay’s face. To change a single blossom from orange to either color involved painstakingly removing the other shade. It would take the sort of mental fortitude that Klay always seemed to lack. And there were 5000 of them, each the size of a dinner plate. He had been set a seemingly impossible task. But if he wanted the journey badly enough…

The resolve in Klay’s heart took over. He nodded to himself, mind made up in a shockingly short length of time. But for his dream he would endure. “When you are finished the blue barricade will turn gold. I will know,” Vazal said, but his words fell on deaf ears. For Klay was already at work.

Shaking his head Brother Vazal left the young warlock to get on with his task.

And he would get on with it, because by the end of his great labor he would find himself one step closer to his goal. Soon, he told himself as he painstakingly willed the yellow out of a blossom. Soon, I’ll fly with dragons.