Fantasy Prologue Contest

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Arnate sat on the cliff ledge, inhaling acrid smoke watching Uafas stretch to the sky, piercing the clouds with neon orange fire. Flakes of burnt ash from her hand rolled cigarette floated towards the remains of the Forest. Uafas roared, Eagla answered. The mountain upon which Arnate perched trembled. No longer did she react to the noise, no longer did she wonder at the horror she wrought. The memory of the Valley as verdant, lush and tranquil was merely a wisp of a dream.

She stood up as the sun slipped below the walls protecting her city, the lone outpost in this god-forsaken land. Time to begin the patrol. She walked down the mountain, her sandals, made from recycled tires, flapped in the dust. Long ago she had finished her water, and ash stuck in her throat. Arnate breathed deeply; another section of the forest burned. Soon, there would be nothing left, soon, all her efforts to rescue the town, her people, would be destroyed by the very creatures brought to save them.

In the gathering gloom, Arnate looked through a sparse gathering of trees, out past the mountains, their first line of defense, to note any movement of the enemy. By now, the army of demons, creatures of the night, ghosts, and sorcerers should have been hard at work. But the vast plain in front of her, scarred by battles, soaked with human blood, was still. Not only was it still; it was empty. Gone were the malformed animals, missing were the sorcerers, floating in their poisonous haze. The pawns of the battle, the twisted elves and fairies which usually littered the mountainside, had vanished. The quiet, in lieu of the screeching, squawking ruckus to which she had become accustomed, chilled her bones. Her watch buzzed, and Gealachs face appeared.

“Do you hear it?” his voice went in and out, crackling with interception.

“I hear it Silence. Not since the day before the Great Battle was there such quiet.” Arnate answered. “And, the plain is empty. They’re gone.”

“How is that possible?” Gealach said. “We counted one thousand elves and fairies last night and over a hundred sorcerers. Where they hell are they?”

“Anything online? Any hints as to what’s going on?” Arnate asked, tripping over a rock and then choking on the dust. “And any hope for rain? This mountain is a dust heap.”

“No rain. Think that’s the sorcerers…it’s April, it’s supposed to rain all the time, we talked about this, they want to turn the Valley into a tinderbox so we will go up in the flames of our own dragons. Hold on, Ghrian says that The Leader is making victory speeches, claiming we are defeated But that’s only on Truthspeak. Seriously, never has a brand name social media been so ironic. No one else is saying that.”

“Fortunately, Leader is a liar.”

The connection broke and Arnate listened to the dead silence, as if a large woolen blanket had been thrown over the valley. Arnate approached the Dragon Entrenchment. Smoke poured out of Uafas’ nostrils while Eagla bathed in the moat. Beag slept, curled up like a house cat the size of a barge. The decision to release them was hers alone. Only she could loosen the enchantments, set them free to fight. Was it time? Was this the end of the endless battles and siege? War had become their normal, she had almost forgotten that one day the dragons would fly freely, killing at will. Arnate’s watched buzzed again.

“Arnate? Can you hear me?” Gealach panicked. “All of a sudden TikToks of dead dragons are everywhere. The videos show them lying in the Entrenchment with their wings cut off. Get back here, something’s going down.”

Frantically, she searched the sky for an attack. “I don’t see anything imminent, but I agree, it’s propaganda, but, I’m going to let them go, it’s time…” Arnate disconnected from him before he could respond. Immediately he called back, she ignored him.

The sky was midnight blue, and the half-moon rose over the mountain peaks. Chilly air wrapped around Arnate as she walked down to the home of the dragons. She sat on the dusty ground next to Beag, entranced by the rainbow prisms shifting on the golden scales. Arnate put her hand on Beag’s wet nostril. Huge yellow eyes opened and stared. “Are you ready to fly little one? It’s time.” Arnate loosened the restraints. She estimated the space and time needed for the battle and watched in her mind’s eye as the confining transparent bubble expanded over the mountains, up into the sky. Arnata fell back. Expanding the restraints to that size burned her reserves. She wanted to sleep. The strain of monitoring the restraints, keeping them tight and close for over two years had taken its toll. For a moment, she let her head throb, her bones ache until enough strength returned allowing her to stand.

Of all her gifts, understanding the dragons was the one she treasured most. Images of the trust between Arnate and Beag, flowed, Beag nudged her, almost knocking her off balance. The dragons thought in emotion and images, not words. The picture of Beag’s favorite meal flashed.

“So you like me as much as a cow?” Beag nudged her again. Arnate stepped back and to honor Beag, she bowed. Beag returned the gesture, sweeping her wings first down, then up.

Next, she went to Uafas and Eagla. Impatient, the time had come for them to be let free. The time had come to find out if they would do as promised and fight. She pressed her hand firmly on the leg of Uafas, who stood taller than any building in town. She was four times the size of Beag. Uafas looked down, Arnate saw raw power, excitement, she felt wind as if Uafas flew over the mountains. The flight of freedom crashed to an end, as burning hate for Arnate flowed. Arnate bowed her head as rage at confinement, fury at her arrogance for asserting mastery over them, was hurled at her by both Uafas and Eagla. Before loosening their restraints, she said, “Tonight we all fight against annihilation. For one last time, I ask for your assistance. Fight our enemies, help us.” Reluctantly, bound by blood and magic, they nodded in agreement. With a flash of a nod, they flew directly up into the sky, shadowing the crescent moon. Again, she had to rest, sitting on a nearby rock, her limbs were heavy and she let her head drop. Arnata remembered with grief, the night she enslaved them. That day, the day the world capitulated to the Leader, Councilman Dochas found her. Darkness had descended and the bomb shelter was damp and quiet. He came down the ladder into the shelter, breaking the silence of defeat, asking her to come with him. Covered in blood and mud, he stood before her, both knowing why he was there. The army was decimated, the ships sunk and their allies had surrendered. The dragons were the only hope for their continued existence. Without dragons at their border, the troops of the Leader would advance and take over within days. And all would be lost. Families separated, the university emptied, children taken to the capitol and taught to fight. The same old story of death and destruction. The same old story of the butchering of all that is good, the theft of souls. Councilman Dochas paused and stared at the amulet around her neck. The luminous stone glowed, the etching of the dragon evident in the moonlight. His command was simple, “Bring them here.” The price of the dragon protection was that Arnata would be bound to the dragons. Their fate would be her fate.

Arnata left the Councilman and climbed the mountain. As a child she had visited these caves, watching the dragons, listening to them, learning their habits. Dragons were in her blood, she was drawn to them. She climbed up into the caves where they slept, pausing to look out over the plain. The Leader’s troops were poised to cross into the Valley. A sorcerer stood guard over each tent, holding a large brown sack. In it were the souls of the soldiers. Fascinated, she stared at the gray sorcerers, hovering, with the large bags twitching at their waists. Remembering why she stood in front of the cave, she raised her arms and whispered the incantation. Four dragons appeared, throwing flames, screeching, thrashing but restrained within a bubble which was barely visible to the naked eye. She had never spoken to the dragons directly and was unprepared for the vitriol which poured into her mind. The one known as death, Bas, was different, he spoke.

“Wretched human, you enslave me now, but now your life is not your own,. I am immortal, I will answer your demands, for a mere moment in my time, but we are now connected for what you will know as eternity.”

His words came back to her, as they did every night before falling asleep. Arnata stared into the hole he had dug. She looked down at his huge folded wings, pointed ears and jumped back when he lifted his head and flames burst forth. She did not move quickly enough and was engulfed in flames. But, as with every other time, she was impervious. Only a few singed pieces of hair and eyelashes were evidence of the dragons’ wrath. Bas stood in front of her, spitting and spewing fire blocking the mountains in front of her.

“Bas, it’s almost over.” Arnata kneeled as she loosened the restraints. Physical, mental and magical strength poured from her as she maintained the scope of the new restraints, allowing the dragons to roam within the entire breadth of the Valley.

“You are weak.” Bas spoke with ash in his voice.

She nodded. “Yes, I am weak, I have to enlarge the restraints, allowing you as much freedom as possible.”

“You are a fool, aren’t you? Don’t you know the poison is in the air? It does not affect us yet, but by now, half the people in your city are dead. Let us go. You are doomed, it is too late.”

Leaning up against a large boulder, Arnata breathed deeply. She wheezed and coughed. The air tasted of bitter apples.

Her watch cackled, “Arnata! People are dying…” then only his cough filled the air.

At that moment, tumbling through the night air, tangled wings and talons glinting with dull gold, fell to the ground. Drained and dizzy, Arnata did not understand what was in front of her. Flashes of light and images of sorcerers appeared in Arnata’s mind eye.

“Beag!” Arnata pain pieced her stomach. She looked at Beag, a fantastically long black spear pierced the stomach of the dragon. Arnata’s side felt as if it would split in two. Burning liquid soaked her stomach .

“Now you know, now you understand…” Bas said. “You are connected to us. What we feel, so will you. If Beag dies, you shall suffer through her death.”

Arnata struggled to stand, tears blinded her vision, pain blinded her reason. She paused and breathed deeply, drawing on her inner healing power, blocking the poison with her mind.

But it didn’t work.

In front of her, Beag choked, gasping for breath, she pushed a talon towards Arnata Arnata fell to her knees, the price of enslavement, the price of her magic A brief moment of hope, her blood held enough power to heal. If she could get to Beag, reach her mouth, have her ingest the blood, Beag could live, at least long enough to get out of here. Arnata snapped the other dragons free of the enchantments. They were free to soar, escape the poison in the air. She heard their distant screams as they escaped the valley. Bas, older than time, spead his vast wings, about to launch to freedom.

Arnata had reached Beag’ mouth and forced open her jaws. Arnata sliced her arm on one of the razor sharp teeth.

“You forfeit your life, for one of us?” Bas snarled with disbelief. Arnata heard only venom in his voice. Consciousness began to slip away from her, Beag’s golden eye fluttering open was the last thing she saw, her brother’s voice was the last thing she heard.