Lost Daughter of Djadokhari

Ano

“There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There was a time, when our noble city was free of the tyranny of the beasts, where our people flourished in freedom, instead of cowering in terror. But be strong, brave people of Bridgehead for justice shall be served…”

- What nonsense! Our dragons would never do that, right Foo-Foo?

My Dad asked his little dragon. He crumpled up the paper and fed it to the flames in the fireplace. He was a giddy man, sorry not a man, a Djadokhar, but now the anger was radiating all over his body. My father was the Elder Djadokhar of Guria. Djadokhars are what we, Chaldean Mages, call ourselves. Back in a time, when our country was free, Djadokhars were feared and respected all over the land of Chaldeans. But then the war started. Guria was the last to fall because of my family and our dragons. But it did fall and we had to flee with surviving half of our herd.

My father was a mighty man, tall and broad, with a bold head and long beard, which was slowly turning grey. He always seemed constant like a mountain, but now, sitting in his armchair near the fire, wearing his traditional Chaldean robe and looking at the fire, he seemed tired, weary. The book he was reading was discarded on a small table and his Yafa, the dark brown drink he favored made from cocoa beans, was turning cold.

Seeing my father like this was unsettling enough, and the sound of the rain and thunder amplified it. I bought the newspaper yesterday, when I was in Bridgehead, but never showed it to dad. I did not want to unsettle him. But we were talking about moving, and he was adamant that if we stayed here, my sister would show up. But we overstayed our welcome here and he had to know that.

Despite that, the mood of the house could never become completely gloomy because of Foo-Foo. Lying at father’s feet, chewing on discarded slippers, he innocently looked up at the mention of his name. Foo-foo was a newly hatched dragon, so Dad let him in the house. He would have let all of them in, but they simply could not fit. Instead, they were lounging on the Valley near the house.

Honestly, my dad did not have the right to be angry. It was not like we were blameless. Yeah, Foo-Foo was adorable, but the grown ones were terrifying and some would still sneak out and snatch farmer’s sheep, despite our effort to take them hunting far, into the forest. And there was the matter of our magic.

When we first came here, we used to help the city near the valley, the Bridgehead, as it was mentioned above, with our magic. But soon after, they started speculating, spreading word about what would have happened if they angered us, that we had too much power. From time to time, they started getting weary of us. Now if either of us decided to go to the city, we would wear disguises. Dad is very noticeable, so it’s mostly me.

I am less noticeable with my straight long, dark hair and dark eyes. I am not too tall, nor too short. Honestly, I look like an ordinary human girl, in her early twenties. But my sister always used to say that I was the most beautiful girl in her eyes. In her eyes, I was always perfect, and could never be wrong no matter what I did. I wish I kept thinking the same of her, but there are some things that are unforgivable.

- Dad, I think we should leave this place. We’ve been here for years now, people are getting impatient and there is no sign of Aliksa. I heard rumours in the tavern about a fire mage in the northern king’s court, maybe…

My dad’s expression became gloomier, if that was even possible, and I swear, fires dimed in the house. Foo-Foo jumped on dad’s lap, sensing his sadness and tried to comfort him.

Aliksa, my sister… the traitor. Father claimed he was looking for her to deliver justice. But I never bought that. After years of atrocities we’ve been hearing, that were done in her name, he still has a hope that there is a reason. Something that made her do it. She was always the obedient one, one who was always at father’s side. I was the rebel. I was the one constantly fighting with him, sneaking out, breaking rules. But when my sister killed one of our dragons and fled with his ripped out heart, I was the one who stayed by my father’s side. We’ve been travelling since.

The house started rocking. If you looked from the window, you could see it ascending. Brazi must have woken up to call the others back to the valley. Brazi was the oldest dragon in the herd. He was huge, the size of a human battleship, with impenetrable grey scales and spikes all over his body. His name meant “anger” in Chaldean and there was never a name more perfect than that for the creature that looked like the anger of all the world manifested in him. After the battle for Guria, he was left scarred and his left eye was gouged out. But he was still standing. He and my dad were of the same age, 570 years old. No one knows the Elder Djadokhar of Guria can imagine him without his loyal friend. That’s why he was the one carrying our small hut on his back. Our hut is small, one room covered in a triangular roof, two windows on the sides and a door. But once you get inside, you are absorbed in my father’s magic.

In the center of a huge living space, supported by wooden pillars on four sides is a cauldron sitting on the top of the ever lit fire pit. Around the fire pit are comfortable seats, one of which is currently occupied by my dad, and the other two vacant. I just got out of my room, and was sitting on a stone floor patting Foo-foo.

The sun was setting, rain pouring was slowing down and the herd was coming home. The time for me to go out in the city approached. I had to get some provisions and try to find out some news about my sister.

- I’ll be heading off now, Dad. Don’t wait up for me ok?

- Be careful Ano, don’t be too late. You know darkness brings nothing but ill to Djadokhars.

- Yes father. Peaceful night to you.

We, Chaldean Djadokhars, never wished good night. Or good bye. In the harsh world we lived in, filled with danger on every corner, peace was something to wish for, not well. There was no good. There was no evil. There were no good people or bad ones. Good people did evil things, bad things happened which would lead to something good. Good would not let you rest. Peace would.

- Peaceful night to you too my daughters...

He was already dozing off, probably mixing up past and present again. I did not correct him. He has lived a long life, filled with wars and troubles. There was one peaceful time for him, when our family was whole, so I let him travel there. I had another journey to take.

…

There weren't always dragons in the Valley

Now they are dwellers, on the misty mountain hill

Up, above the lonely hill, valley conquered by him

He, who reigns upon a mountain

Reigning with terror and fear.

For the dragons bow to him, their master,

The warlock, mighty as you hear.

The sound of a tortured instrument and one very loud bard was vibrating all over the tavern, “Tortoise and Scorpio”. It was a shabby little place in the outskirts of the Bridgehead, but this was where all the merchants stopped for a quick rest.

Although it was a popular place for the travelers, tonight the place was more crowded than usual. But it was to be expected on a rainy day like this. It started pouring as soon as I crossed the bridge and came close to the city gate. I could have used my magic to shield myself from the element, but it would look suspicious to the town folk. Damn them and their superstitions.

The cheap beer at the tavern was not enough to wash down my bitter mood so I told the barmen to keep them coming. This was always the best place to find new rumors and I was always good at holding my liquor, not like my sister, who would be hammered after one glass. What a lightweight…

I took another long sip to wash down the memories of her as well but alas, I knew it was in vain. So I focused no conversations happening around me instead:

- Did you see the vendor’s wife today? All day, I couldn't keep my eyes away from her big, bouncing…

Ok next conversation.

- I swear man, I have a big business idea, it’s gonna get us a full cauldron of gold man, I just need a little starter funding...

Not interesting either.

- Did you hear what our leashed prince’s bitch of a mage did? Massacring the whole village like that...

No, Aliksa, what have you done now! They must be talking about her. There were three men at a round table in the corner of the room. They were too far for the mortal eyes, but I could hear them with my magic. The men were wearing quality clothes, but nothing too fancy. The one had a ring on his finger with a seal, which I recognized as a symbol for one of the wealthy merchant families of Bridgehead. He slapped his other hand on the waiter 's ass without even disturbing his conversation. The boy was young and clearly uncomfortable, but he did not dare to say anything. The city was small, so minor merchants were acting like kings here. They travelled a lot though, so as foul as they acted.

- Man, tell me about that - The slim and lanky one said - I had to pass that place a couple of days ago while coming here. They were clearing out bodies from the main square. It was like they were made of wax men, their parts were melted to the bone, and there was a smell of burned flash man. That bitch burned down the whole village, imagine, if she can do that with one dragon’s heat, what will those mages up on a valley do?!

Burning? When did she learn Tsetskhlis Djado, the magic of fire! I had to find out more. I got up to engage in conversation with them, when I suddenly felt dizzy. The room was spinning and I could not see straight. There was no way two glasses of beer would do that to me. Unless there was something more than just a beer in it. I felt my legs giving out, when I felt a firm grip on my arm and a hot breath near my ear.

- Come with me, my lady, some air will do you good.

Said the stranger in a deep voice. No... Let me GO, but my mouth would not move, gods, I could barely move. The stranger dragged me out of the tavern, out in the rain. He dragged me all the way to the alley nearby, like I was a puppet doll... He looked around, to make sure we were alone and took us further inside the narrow street, until we were shielded from the rain by one of the balconies above us. I tried to summon my Djado, but I could not. I could not even reach for the knife, hidden in my boots. It felt like I was looking through a haze, under water. He sat me down carefully on the wet ground, supporting my back on the wall. Then he squatted in front of me.

- Sorry for that, but she warned me of your temper, and that you’d make a fuss. The potion will wear off in a couple of minutes. Although I was rather intrigued... Well, maybe next time, Lady Ano.

I could not see his face, but caught a glimpse of a smile under the hood. The bastard is finding all of this amusing. And he knows my name.

- You must be wondering who I am. For now, I’m just a humble messenger, my lady. Please accept this. She is depending on it.

His voice sobered in the last sentence. She who? But I still could not talk. He placed a piece of paper in my hand. Then he looked around one more time, and when he was satisfied by the area, he disappeared into the night.

The haze lasted for a couple of minutes and when I finally could move, I looked at the paper. There was just one line:

Ano, help me. - Aliksa

Aliksa

Thieves, assassins, traitors, murderers. That’s what we were. That’s what I have become.

I look around, at the forest surrounding us. The storm clouds are coming but a little rain won’t stop us. The nature in her most unforgiving face won’t stop Prince Constantine and his band of exiles.

The rain has started and doused the flames of our campfire, shrouding us into the darkness. The darkness that bows to no one, expert him. He leads the way and we follow.

Two hearts inside me beat faster at the sound of our marching feet, the sound that has brought doom to many, mercy to few. I can feel the rage seeping from the dragon’s heart, slowly devouring my human one. The more of the dragon’s power I use, the more it consumes me, until there will be nothing left of Aliksa, the daughter of the Elder Djadokhar of Guria. But no matter how many pieces of my soul are slowly gone, the voice inside my head still remains, unwavering in her hatred.

“But it was worth it, right little girl? That’s why you killed me. Is it still worth it?”