Order of Reptellium

Part one

Sister moons arced toward their precipice as the failing sunlight ebbed beyond Santiok Valley. Tensely, he glided over a rolling swell in the winter winds, grazing a soft plume of clouds as he scanned the horizon to the north. The Timberfrost—a vast, wooded landscape reached out as far as the eye could see. A pearlescent dusting crystallized the tops of the trees, setting the pines and spruces and evergreens aglow as golden beams of light refracted across the glimmering frost. This was undoubtedly where the dark ones had come from. Crassix, the ancient bronze drake took in one hate-filled breath, threatening his stoic demeanor. Show yourselves, you devils, he thought, while exhaling fumes of flame-laced matter.

Peering below, he cringed as roiling black smoke billowed up from the ruined town. Jaol, a northern outpost belonging to the human kingdom of Santiok. Glowing embers rose from the ashes in winding currents as they floated up from the decimation, like an army of fireflies riding a funnel cloud into the sky. His draconic vision brought his gaze to the most heavily damaged part of town. The watch tower was a pile of rubble, bits of crumbled stone all that remained. A mighty explosion, no doubt. It also explained the gaping hole in the spruce log walls of the market district, adjacent the obliterated tower.

Among all the destruction and scattered rubble laid bodies…human bodies everywhere. Some intact—some not. Icy sorrow crept down the length of his spine and tail as he beheld them. He hissed involuntarily. Burnt flesh and day-old gore accented the aroma of cindering wood, assaulting his considerable senses. This was only the most recent atrocity in his sovereign territory. His wasn’t the most heavily afflicted by this evil new clan, but that didn’t stop the immense rage boiling in his veins.

“Show yourselves!” Crassix roared from above, his booming voice echoing through the mountainous valley to the west.

He bared his arching teeth as latent fire begged to roll off his tongue. He shook his head, attempting to rein in the hatred even as a primal growl parted his snout. How could this happen? Why was no message sent? He continued taking in the horrid sight below. A crippling guilt synched around his scaled chest. Claws sinking in, gripping him without mercy. He circled the village once more as he kept his eyes peeled for survivors.

As far as Crassix could tell, this small town of Jaol was completely sundered and its inhabitants slain. All of them. These people were his charge—his responsibility, entrusted to him by the Reptra of these lands herself, Vatrellia of the soul-fire. The arch-drake of his order had given him this task three centuries past and until a few months ago he had never failed her. The three human kingdoms and the Reptellium Order had shared a mutual, symbiotic alliance for longer than he had been alive. Not in twelve hundred years had such a scourge befallen these lands. Not until now.

Crassix adjusted his expansive wings to divert the drag. He glided over the druidic temple, swooping down to ground level. His claws sank deep into the ashen soil; he was now surrounded by his fallen friends. The people he had sworn to protect. Harrod was sprawled on the ground in front of the desolate entrance—what was left of him. Crassix had spent years installing the wards of this temple with Harrod. And now, he could feel nothing. No reverberation, no hints of magic at all. He closed his eyes, gaging the air and texture with his own melodious aura. There truly was no magic left. He had never known anything of its like; except for the two previous attacks. And neither of those towns had been able to send a magical message out to him either. It was as if the melodically woven energy had just been rendered completely inert.

Crassix approached the fallen arch-druid. “I’m so sorry, my friend…” Fire grumbled in his belly and he ground his teeth at the sight. Harrod’s features were full of shock and horror. His jaw jetted out sideways, dislocated, stretching his skin farther than naturally possible. His hairless face and scalp was pale, drained of all color. And the man’s body had undertaken dozens of terrible, gaping lacerations. Torture. Crassix bowed his head to his friend, before examining the entrance farther. The door was ajar, the one that was still standing. Made large enough for a drake to enter comfortably, Crassix crossed the threshold of the partially collapsed temple. Smoldering bits of stone littered the great hall as he made his way inside. Burned décor and utterly smashed statues lay amongst the pillars that were still standing.

Is it possible for these beings to cut off the flow of magic? It was the only thing that made sense. The lack of magical residue, the failed messages. How in the name of the bloodlines can this be? He searched everything. Every room and hallway. Even the magical training compound below ground. Nothing—there was nothing left. The druids were all torn to pieces. Some of them were even feasted upon. Crassix approached one of the counsel sisters collapsed against a stone wall. Kara was her name. Something had eaten her insides. He took in that same wretched stench that had been present at the other attack sites. Timbercats. But not just any big cat. These smelled of death and corruption. Sour and ash laced, these beasts were surely undead. He had come across their like before. And the dark covens were well known for abusing the sacred arts, performing necromantic experimentation on the timbercats in the past.

He was making his way back toward the entrance when it hit him. The song of magic fluttered in the air, calling out to Crassix. Was there still someone left here after all? He followed it, albeit cautiously, unsure what he would find. The faint melody flowed through the halls like a siren begging for salvation. Only those sensitive to magic could feel it, but it was unmistakable. Crassix came around a collapsed corner, lifting massive chunks of stone to clear a path wide enough for him to squeeze through. Finally, he found the source of the song. It was a store room, often used for food and supplies. He once again cleared a mound of broken stone and rubble away from the blocked door. Crassix then heard a soft whimper emanate from the other side of it. A child’s whine, barely audible.

“Hello? Hello, can you hear me? I am Crassix of the Reptellium. I am not here to harm you.” He waited a moment. No response. “Please, I swear by the draconic bloodlines, I mean you no harm. Please, if you can hear me back away from the door.”

Crassix took one great claw and pierced the wooden doorframe edging. He hooked it through to the other side and snapped the reinforced oak door right off the heavy iron hinges. He pulled the door out into the hallway just as the screaming erupted. A young boy, no more than five years old was curling on the ground, wailing under collapsed shelving and splayed open grain bags. Crassix was far too large to enter this modest storage room, but he could just fit his head inside.

“Shhh, please calm yourself young one,” he said, attempting to soothe the distraught boy.

He just stared wide eyed at Crassix, screaming, utterly terrified. He wore forest green druidic robes. And he was bald, as all druids were—a simple alteration in order to enhance the bodies sensitivity to magical melodies.

“Shhh,” Crassix repeated. “Hear me, young one,” he hummed, ushering a soothing reverberation through the store room. “I would no sooner harm you than my own flesh and blood. I am of the wind and sky, of fire and light. Shhh, I am of your own people.” Slowly, the boy began to calm. “Jaol is my charge. I am of the order of drakes, my young friend. May I ask your name?”

“I…I’m Narro.”

“Narro—a fine name. After an ancient arch-druid. You must be held in high regard here for the druids to have presented this to you as your new name.”

“What are you?”

Crassix chuckled. “As I said, I am a drake of the Order of Reptellium. Surely your masters taught you of the drakes? Even one as young as you.”

“Well, yeah…” His voice cracked as he wearily adjusted behind the fallen shelf. He stared for another moment, seeming to try and calm his uneven breathing. “But, I never saw a drake. Only drawings. How do I know you’re one? You’re just a giant snake head. How do I know you won’t eat me if I come out?”

Crassix fully laughed. “I do understand your conundrum, my young Narro. And it’s very wise of you to question something that seems suspicious. Ones instincts can often be the difference between life and death. Might I ask, how much have they taught you about sensing your melodies? Can you intuit a lie? That should have been one of your earliest lessons.”

Narro was hesitant, but began exuding more confidence now. He straightened up. “I can surly feel a lie. Sure as an arch-drake I can.”

“Harrod—Harrod used to say that to me, young one.” A fresh wave of guilt and failure washed over Crassix.

“Is master Harrod here?”

“Dear Narro, I am the only one here. Use your training. Sense my vocals. I—Crassix of the Reptellium am here to protect you. I will cause you no harm. I swear it on the draconic bloodlines. I am here to help.”

Narro’s eyes flooded with tears. He sprang to his feet and charged Crassix, hugging his jaw and neck. “It was horrible! The witches were all over and—and none of the druids could use magic. They blew people up! Their shadow cats tore them…”

Narro cried into his bronze scaled neck. “I am here for your now, Narro. There is no more need to be afraid. I have sent word through the magical airways. Your people are already in route with reinforcements and to help with the fallen. Come, we need to leave this place. I know of a lair close by, safe and warm, away from the evil that now lurks here.”

“Thank you, Crassix…” Narro whispered. “I…thought they would get me. I—thank you.”

“You are very welcome. Come now, let us go and find a safe place for you to rest your head. I assure you, nothing will harm you as long as I am by your side.”

Narro hugged him once more.

Part Two

Narro jolted awake. A cold sweat covered his entire body. He sat up, hugging his knees as he rocked. He tried to distract himself by taking in his surroundings. A bronze scaled tail was wrapped around him, protecting him, concealing him within the rest of the hollowed out space. His gaze ticked over toward the wall, a massive fire raged no more than twenty paces from them. The oversized fireplace was carved right into the stone of the mountain cavern wall. Though not entirely carved; it was as if massive claws had torn into the rock and gouged out a great chunk. The part he didn’t understand was how the chimney sweep was made. Narro didn’t dare stick his head up there to look, but the smoke was certainly escaping somewhere. Is it magic?

​Crassix groaned in his sleep, drawing Narro’s attention for a moment. The great drake exhaled hoarsely, his eyes jetting back and forth beneath his giant lids, dreaming? Narro then began taking in the audacious décor. Violet and emerald draped banners adorned much of the wall-space, depicting great drake armies battling the forces of night. Swirling shadows leapt from the artwork, as depictions of the colorful bands of dragon warriors defended the land. They were beautiful. And bronze—there was bronze everywhere. Bronze strips laid in the seam of the walls, affixed to the very stone itself. Artistic displays of the gleaming metal ran all throughout the place. Some seemed like random, whirling designs, but some appeared carved with intent. Bronze statues and figurines were inlaid within sections of the walls as well.

​Images of the massacre once again invaded his mind. He hugged his knees even deeper and wept. Leaning up against Crassix’s tail gave him solace, his mighty protector vast and formidable. It was difficult to get comfortable against his savior’s rock hard scales, but the warmth resounding beneath the diamond shaped bronze was immensely reassuring. A thrumming sensation coursed through his body as he touched Crassix. The same feeling he got the first time he had hugged him, and during the flight over to this snow-capped mountain cave as well. He couldn’t place it. Similar to the melodies of magic, but more urgent, like a message yet to be delivered. It actually made him nauseous. It was pulling at Narro, something he had to accomplish. He forced his eyes shut and tried to drift back to sleep.

Unfortunately, the thrumming pull grew and grew until Narro actually found himself on his feet, walking toward the cave mouth entrance. He was outside himself, unsure where this magical pull was leading him. The thrumming became much more localized then, centering alongside his tummy. Instinctively, he knew what to do. Narro searched around the entrance until he found what he needed. A small, sharp edged rock. Perfect, a shrill voice said, inside his head? Narro held the rock firmly, slicing the side of his abdomen. His breath cut short and he let out a whimper. The thrumming made its way out of the crevice between his ribs. Pain. Gut wrenching pain seized him, but he couldn’t move or scream. His actions were not truly his own.

His teeth were clattering, ringing inside his head as a blood red jewel popped right out of his side. It hovered in front of him and he groaned, before this unrelenting force made him grab it. He tried to call to Crassix for help, but his lips were sealed tight. His mind raced as he held the crimson jewel up to the cave entrance. The spell took hold. Quietly. Arcing strands of smoke energy rolled out from the horrible object Narro was somehow wielding. Whispering fumes escaping their prison of crystalline rock. The dark, smoking magic searched out the cavern entrance, sinking into the stone as it traced the entire edge along the mouth. Once all the lines met and the line complete, a black wall of smoke erupted before him, forming a barrier, concealing the two of them within the cavern. Narro felt the magic rush out of him. It was horrible, like his own soul being ripped from his body. He fell to his knees and screamed, the jewel falling to the floor.

The great bronze drake awoke with a ferocious roar, thundering echoes piercing Narro’s ears. He whimpered once again as his body was returned to him.

“Narro, what—what have you done?”

“I didn’t mean to!” he wailed.

The great drake clawed his way over to him. He eyed the jewel on the ground. Crassix then focused his intense gaze upon the barrier. His fierce purple eyes narrowed as he inspected the magic ensnaring them. He opened his mouth, as if to taste the air or utter some melody. But nothing came out.

“My magic is truly gone from me…” Crassix drug a foot long claw against the smokescreen, but the wicked force expelled it with ease. He then reared back and took one mighty swipe. Nothing. Even with all his considerable strength, the blackened smoke did not give an inch. A deep, rumbling growl then emanated from within the drakes chest as he seemed to sense something on the other side. “Narro—get behind me.”

He did as his protector commanded, just as high pitched whimsical laughter reached his ears. It echoed throughout his body, chilling him to the bone. These were the same laughs that haunted his dreams of late. Witches. The pair backed away from the cavern entrance, all the way to the far wall. Crassix turned and sheared off an outcropping section of stone with his razor-sharp claw, opening up a small crevice within.

“Hop in, dear boy.”

Again, Narro did as he was told. “What about you?” he pleaded.

“Oh, don’t concern yourself with me, young Narro. These wretched beings have just made the biggest mistake of their lives. They have given me that which I have longed for.” A proud, fierce smile tugged at the edges of his snout. “Stay here, you will be safe.”

Crassix rolled the sheared off stone in front of him, partially enclosing Narro within as the heinous laughter filled the chamber. Shadowy figures floated through the smoke barrier, hovering a few feet off the ground. A dozen of them. His protector turned toward the enemy as Narro watched from his nook.

“Come now—come meet your fate, you filth,” Crassix hummed. Narro gulped at the eerie threat, the cheerily pleasant tone making it all the more alarming. “I, Crassix Velliun Laressius of the violet fire hereby charge you with desolation and murder of the innocent people of Santiok. Your deaths will be swift and terrible. Your pain eternal. Condemnation awaits you in the fiery pits, for when I send you back to the one you serve he will surely destroy you, what little bits I have left for him, anyhow.”

One figure floated forward. Narro had trouble making out her features entirely, but her pale face was cracked and split in places, like splintered wood. Dark smoke furled out from within her jet black robes about the neck. “This snake seems to forget we have taken its magic away.” The others continued laughing behind her. “You will find it difficult to spit your precious fire without your melodies, my lord drake.”

“I need no magic to devour you!” Crassix lurched forward to challenge them, a primal hiss escaping his snake-like visage.

“I suppose we shall see…” The witch smiled at him. At that same moment, more figures emerged through the smokescreen as well. Narro cringed, placing his hands on the stone, becoming increasingly concerned for his protector. He could barely make them out at first—dark, crouching, feline. Narro watched with dread as the shadow cats surrounded Crassix with impossible silence. Natural born killers. As they inched closer, he made out their panther bred features in the flickering firelight. Smoldering, torn skin sagged off their exposed bone and sinew.

Crassix let out a great roar and charged them. He made a swipe at the two closest on his left. He connected with one, shredding the undead cat in half. But the other leapt with unnatural swiftness onto the ceiling of the cavern. At once, the rest of the shadow cats converged on him. He swept away two with his tail as the remaining few great cats climbed upon his back, tearing into his glimmering scales. Their struggle was fierce. Narro trembled in spite of his friend gaining the advantage. Crassix smashed his back into the cavern wall, crushing bone and seared flesh.

But then…the witches joined the fray. They held up their arms in unison as billowing dark energy was expelled from within their robes. They lashed out towards the drake. Dozens of smoking whips grasped his legs, his wings, his tail and snout. Bronze scales peeled off in an instant as the dark energy lacerated his powerful form, constraining him. He let out another mighty roar as a handful more shadow cats appeared from beyond the barrier. They too leapt onto him, sinking in fangs and claws, a shadowy feline embrace as the vaporous tendrils forced him down upon the ground. He fought like mad, furiously biting and clawing, scraping savagely across the cavern floor. He fought with everything he had, but it was not enough.

“I will destroy all of you! I will drink the marrow from your bones!”

“See, now isn’t that better? There’s no need to fight. It will all be over soon.” The witches laughed and screamed as they held up their arms, madness brimming from each one of them.

Narro had had enough. He took a deep breath and gathered in his courage. The boy, no older than five, came out of the crevice. “Stop!” He ran to Crassix and put himself between the drake and the witches. Narro raised his fists. “I won’t let you hurt him,” he managed.

The witches cackled and the leader glided closer. “That is so very sweet.” She presented a wicked smile that stretched literally from ear to ear. Her needling black teeth exuded noxious tar and filth. Narro’s stomach wrenched, his pounding heartbeat throbbing in his ears.

“Dear boy,” Crassix whispered. He didn’t even hear him. “Narro—look at me, child.” It finally registered and he shakily peered over his shoulder. The great drake was sprawled out, helpless, breathing rugged. “I told you not to worry for me.”

With tears moistening his cheeks, Narro whispered back, “I won’t let you do it alone…”

The drake’s brow drew in, a saddened smile creasing his ancient jawline. A single, great violet droplet ran down his protector’s face.

“There we are!” The head witch sucked in an exasperated breath. She held her hands out to them, gangly nails protruding from her elongated fingers. Her dark essence took hold of the purple tear. She withdrew an empty vial from beneath her robes and carefully let it drip into the glass container. She sighed, glee hanging from her brow. “Have you any idea how incredibly powerful your tears are? I dare say, there is nothing that can match it. That’s quite enough. Please sister, do take off that bumbling face now.”

His breath went out of him, his body going completely rigid. Finally! the shrill voice inside his head exclaimed. “Crassix…” Narro gasped, and the drake stared in horror as the witch beneath gouged her own flesh, at the boy masking her.

“No! Narro!”

The witch breathed deep relief as her mental barriers were brought down and she shed off the meat she was wearing. “Ahh, that is so much better,” Razella said, rising up, her true form taking shape as her condensed bones snapped back into place.

“What is this trickery?” Crassix growled. “You devils! What have you done to Narro?”

Razella laughed wholeheartedly. “Have you never heard of a skin walker before? I thought you ancient dragons were supposed to be smart. I know it seems silly to go through all of this for a single tear, but like Essie said, there is truly nothing in this world that can compare to that kind of raw magic. Except for maybe your heart. And we thank you in advance for your willing contribution...”

***

“Crassix’s harrowing cries echoed through the cavern and throughout the pages of history…” Daigen looked upon his acolytes’ faces, those kneeling before him in the druidic temple. These were the most recent magically sensitive children to join the order. “I want you to think of Crassix as a cautionary tale, my students.” They all nodded their understanding. “What those wretched creatures did not know was that when you remove an ancient drake’s beating heart, an earth shattering explosion is what follows. Even in death, Crassix of the violet fire claimed his vengeance, and in doing so broke the witches spell. Upon meeting his fate, his life song rang true and he sent a message along the magical airways of what had befallen him. Our great enemy is powerful, cruel, and without mercy. And they are coming for us. But, with Crassix’s sacrifice, we now have knowledge of their power. With this precious gift handed to us by the last remaining drake of the Laressius royal line, we now have a chance. We now have hope…”