Saga of Strife

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Long before their arrival, the Emerald Vale was a lush and fertile countryside dotted with modest homes the residents who labored in the fields lived in. Their crops were healthy and well watered from the rivers and streams that came from the surrounding mountains and they lived a peaceful life. The folk that lived in the valley and beyond were not merely humans, for they were not in a part of the universe that humans were. Although similar in their appearance and mannerisms as evolution would have it, the beings that cultivated the valley were known as Titans: great creatures standing as tall as the trees, with magic power imbued to them. The Titans were an industrious folk, focusing their energy and magic towards productive use—building homes and common buildings, farming and the like. They seldom found the time for arts or making music. Even more seldom did they even want to. The creatures that roamed the lands were dwarfed by the two-hundred foot tall behemoths. The animals paid no mind to them, as if the landscape itself were alive and moving.

Sitting in a chair carved from a one hundred fifty foot tall pine tree was Iberus, an elder Titan that was six thousand years old. His features were rugged and weathered, wrinkling his skin and making his hands calloused. Those hands were folded against his grey, aged tunic as he relaxed on his porch, enjoying the beauty of the day. He was a curious Titan in his youth, but had become keen on observing the world around him as his age advanced. He twisted his grey beard between his fingers as he watched the fields from his porch; his farmhands toiled away under the sun much as they had for hundreds of years. The sun bore down, but not suffocatingly so, casting intense shadows under the trees and beside the houses. Iberus saw movement on the valley’s wall just before it crested into the expansive plains to the west. It was several miles away, but he could tell right away it was a Titan. He didn’t say a word, but craned his neck a bit as though it would help him see further. The Titan clambered hastily up the hillside. Iberus tapped his walking stick as he stood up. He walked off the edge of his porch slowly, leaning on the stick as he trekked along, stopping when he had a clear view of the hillside. He stabbed his walking stick into the soft grass, leaving it standing upright with no assistance. His two free hands he stretched out to his side and brought them in together quickly, making a swirling motion as they passed over each other. Simultaneously Iberus’ stance shifted in a fluid motion and his legs bent to hold his body quickly and firmly in a well practiced position. His hands glowed a light blue, similar to the sky above as they came together. His left hand stayed firm in a fist; his right formed a circle just behind the other. The circle motion began to blur and Iberus pulled his left hand through the circle, causing it to become a physical manifestation that rapidly expanded. The ring floated before him, slowly rotating the symbols of their magic in a clockwise pattern along its edge. Iberus put both of his glowing hands into the ring, his palms pressed firmly together. When he separated his hands the view within the ring suddenly lurched forward. Iberus magnified his field of view simply by moving his hands apart.

He had a more clear view of what he was looking at: a hooded Titan with a bag tossed over his shoulder was climbing the rocky terraces where the sloping, grassy valley ended. The rocks plateaued in no particular order and at different levels, giving the Titan footholds and landing points throughout its climb. Iberus grabbed his walking stick and the floating ring instantly vanished.

Must be Lomerius at it again. That boy just doesn’t learn, he thought as he returned to his porch.

Lomerius was a young Titan, aged 700 years or so. He was enthralled by adventure and was particularly fond of climbing as high as he could. On a sunny day he felt like he could see the whole world from the peaks of the Northern Verglas Mountains. His adventurous spirit was a far cry from that of his brother, Detherion, who much preferred the solitude of a library. As he climbed up the rocky wall, he stopped on a ledge. Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he turned and looked down over the Emerald Vale. It was a sight that he was familiar with, yet simultaneously one that he would never grow accustomed to. The beauty of the valley was insurmountable—stunningly vibrant greens and golds shone from the fields below as shimmering dark waters streaked through to a large lake. Slightly off center was an island where the Titans let the trees grow rampant, just as they did where the edges of the valley began to steepen and farming became impossible. Lomerius took a deep breath in admiration of the scenery, taking a panoramic view from the southern end of the valley where the jungles began, to the north where tributaries snaked through the low mountains to feed the river below. As his head turned fully to the north, he saw a glimmer against the stone walls against which he stood. It wasn’t particularly obvious, as though he spotted it as a coincidence of where he stood. Intrigued, Lomerius surveyed the footing around him and designed a climbing plan to reach the glinting object.

After a few minutes of rigorous lateral traversing, Lomerius found himself in a precarious spot. There was nothing beneath him as he edged his way along, gripping the stone holds tightly. A gross underestimation of the distance between the ledge on which he stood and the landing he needed to be on disappointed Lomerius. He was never one to turn around or back down and prepared himself to jump. He crouched down like a runner, took two steps, and bounded with a mighty leap. His hands clasped the rough edges of the landing, slipping only a little, and he pulled himself onto the landing. After a deep sigh of relief, he walked across the small landing to the wall. He was sure of the location of his glimmering treasure, but somehow couldn’t seem to locate it. He bobbed and weaved his head around, raised himself up and even jumped in an attempt to reproduce the effect he saw earlier. Just when he was about to give up, he spotted the glimmer again. This time he was close enough to tell that it was hidden amongst the rocks on the wall. He broke some loose and tossed them away as he dug into the wall. When he finally got to it, it appeared as though it were metal, but was stony to the touch. The face of it was silver and had a hammered metal appearance, but there were no dimples—only smooth stone. He tried to free the stone from the wall, but it wouldn’t budge. He pulled his small hatchet from his waist and began to smash the rocks around it. Eventually tiring of that, he dropped the hatchet and sat down beside it. His mind drifted to a distant memory of his brother and him:

Lomerius is playing tag with the other Titan children. Laughter splits the air and footsteps thunder through the valley. The farmers shake their heads at the hundred-year olds and angrily shake their fists at them when they trample crops. Lomerius and his friends stop at at wooden table under a tall pine tree. Detherion sits at the table alone, a thick book lay opened between his arms.

“What are you reading?” one of the Titan children asks.

“There’s no spells in there that won’t make you a loser!” another one sneered. Lomerius scrunches his face, but says nothing.

“It’s a spellbook for altering the physical realm,” Detherion says back to them. He looks at Lomerius, certain his brother will add an insult. He doesn’t like his brother very much. The insult doesn’t come, because his brother’s friends speak again:

“‘Alter the physical realm?’ Ok, professor! I’ll bet you stole that book like you did the last one. You’ll probably be banished this time for it.”

“What if I did?” asks Detherion, the defiant tension rising in his voice. The others look to each other nervously. Detherion is an easy target, but sometimes he scares the other children. He continues, “What if I did steal it! What are you going to do about it!”

Their hands glow yellow with magic, but everyone knows they can’t hurt him. Unlike Detherion, the only spells they ever read and practice are not harmful. Detherion stands and his hands glow green. The standoff isn’t long. They all extend their arms towards each other: the group of three except Lomerius aim at Detherion; he aims back at them. A blinding light flashes—it’s all they know to conjure. Detherion remains in place, but two of the others ended up on their rear, the other lies facedown and remains motionless. Lomerius looks to the body of his friend, then back to Detherion and says, “What have you done? What was that?”

His brother has sharp eyes that pierce. They narrow and he says, “Quaking spell. It violently shakes a spot… or three. The light made me miss.”

The Titans on the ground stand up. One draws a sword, the other a small knife. They look at Detherion with rage, one saying, “Get out of here you little freak!” With a small smirk, Detherion departs, leaving his book on the table. The two Titans check on their dead friend. Lomerius moves toward the table, eyeing the book his brother left behind. He looks down at it, and sees the section it was open to: Targeted Quakes for Harvesting Fruit Bearing Trees.

Lomerius stood up. He wracked his brain trying to think of the spell he had seen all those years ago. His memory retraced those final steps, but was hazy from the commotion his brother had caused that day. That day and hundreds more, he thought. Closing his eyes, he thought of the steps. They were simple enough to remember, but complex enough they couldn’t be performed by mistake. He put his hands out and attempted the spell.

Nothing.

He tried a few other hand formations until frustration got the best of him. At that point he realized he was trying to remember the wrong part of that memory. He watched his brother perform the spell. It was nothing to Detherion. A quick wave of his hand and a flick of the wrist was it. Lomerius faced the rock wall, his hands glowing green, then waved his hand and flicked his wrist the same way his brother did centuries prior. A forceful reverberation shot from his hand and pulverized the rock, much to Lomerius’s excitement. Just as he attempts to pull the strange, shiny treasure free, the entire stone wall and landing in which Lomerius stood collapsed inward— the rock wall was the outer barrier to a cavern.

Downward he plunged, hundreds, perhaps thousands of feet into a massive underground chamber. He slid amongst the rubble for some time after his vertical descent ended. Lomerius stood up quickly mostly unhurt and peered around. The cavern was dark; there was no lighting except that of the hole he just created. Straining to see, Lomerius thought it wise to cast a lighting spell. He made the quick motions with his hand and an aura of light emanated from him in all directions. It wasn’t an incredible light, but allowed him enough to be able to see around the chamber. Inside was a series of natural columns that looked as though they support the entire plains that sat above. They extended for thousands of feet—much deeper than he could see—into the mountainside.

When Lomerius approached a column he saw his shiny, metallic-looking stone. Except it wasn’t his—it was different. It was very much the same; same type and appearance, but this stone too was connected to the column, not the loose one that tumbled in with him. He cocked his head in confusion, then his eyes went wide as he realized the entire column was made of it. Bewilderment coursed through him and he put a hand on the column as he marveled it. When his hand touched it, the light surrounding him surged and became brilliant as if the sun itself were inside the chamber. He quickly pulled his hand away in surprise and the light faded down to its normal brightness.

What the… he thought. Nothing can alter the strength of a spell. He touched the column once more, illuminating the chamber for several hundred yards. Looking around the room, Lomerius was in awe. The columns all appeared to be made of the stone, the walls were all adorned with it naturally formed, all brilliantly glimmering against his lighting spell. As he looked around slowly with mouth agape, the small hairs along his neck and shoulder began to stand on end, giving him the feeling he was not alone. He turned his head sharply and looked down the rows of columns, seeing nothing. Letting go of the column, darkness creeped its way back to Lomerius as he walked to the next row of columns over. He put his hand on it and peered down the row. Just as the light passed two thousand feet in, he caught movement along his peripheral vision. It was only a moment, but Lomerius was sure he saw something—a shadow, perhaps, slinked away deeper into the chamber.

“Hello?” Lomerius called. There was no answer except for the cacophony of echoes rebounding through the chamber. Suspiciously, he moved to the next row of columns and with one hand he touched the stones, with the other he cast a silencing spell on himself. The light filled the room again and Lomerius peered down the rows of columns once more, spotting the shadow once more. Although, it wasn’t quite a shadow. From the great distance he was to it, it appeared black as the shadows surrounding, but had an unmistakeable definition. It was triangular in shape, but was hidden behind the columns into the darkness. It didn’t move for a moment and Lomerius stared, trying to decipher what he seeing.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted. Lomerius gulped hard. The tingling sensation affecting the hair on his neck and shoulder overtook his whole body and his muscles cramped with fear. His heart quickened and his mouth became dry. Just as he let go of the column the shape moved. Lomerius cut the lighting spell off. He sat in near total blackness except for the small tunnel of light filtering through from where he tumbled in. He moved toward it, straining to see in the darkness. He stopped suddenly when he heard a scraping sound against the stones and a rush of air passed him in the chamber. Whatever was in the cavern with him was between him and his entrance, yet unconcerned with leaving through it. Remaining in the shadows, Lomerius could feel its presence—something great and powerful, or perhaps terrible, was blocking his exit. It exuded the familiarity of magic that the stones gave him when touched—the same sensation that coursed through his veins and bolstered power of his spell. Lomerius backed up deeper into the cavern carefully, his footsteps were silenced by the spell as he tried to draw whatever lurked there with him away from his escape route. He wasn’t even sure how he would get to the hole he fell through; there was no clear path without the light.

Through the darkness came a voice. It snarled like a beast; a deep and guttural growling sound that filled the hall as its words pierced the air:

“You must think you’re quite cunning. As though I’ve never encountered a spell as that.”

Lomerius remained silent. The spell around him was a shadowy orb that made his physical movements inaudible, but he could still speak. He was stricken with fear and could not bring himself to do so.

“Why have you come here, little one? What is your purpose?” the voice called out. Lomerius could hear it changing location, despite filling the entire chamber.

Little one, he thought. What could it be?

“You don’t speak now? Strange, since your kind is so fond of spells and conversation. I possess every ability to find you within these halls and if you don’t speak to me before I do, I will tear you to shreds.”

Lomerius was running out of options. He spoke loudly as to echo in the chamber, “I hear you, and I am afraid. What are you?” When the words left his mouth he raced away from that spot in fear that the beast would locate him from the sound alone. He heard a great shuffling and more scraping of stone. The deep and gritty voice growled through the air again, “What am I? A peculiar question, indeed, what am I. How do you mean? What am I physically embodied as? What am I in a magical sense? Or what am I in my own mind? I am a great many things, all of which are worthy of being feared.”

“Uhh…all three I suppose?” Lomerius barely squeaked out the words.

“My name is Azvarr ul-Zuhrah. In a reverse order if it pleases you, to answer your unusual question, I am lost. Lost within my own mind and to the world above. I am a prisoner, entombed here and left to die, yet I am immortal and undying after thousands of years. Where magic is concerned, I cannot cast a spell, for I do not have the right parts for that, you see. I have no fingertips to make the gestures—these claws are not so dexterous, and I have no lips to speak the incantations.”

“If you have no lips, then how is it you speak to me?” Lomerius asked before darting to another location. The air shifted uncomfortably within the cavern as the beast moved about.

“A fourth question, and one so trivial. Perhaps if you let me finish answering the first three that would be obvious to you. I am a magical being, yet spellcasting is not something I am capable of. I do not speak to you through the lips of my mouth, for they do not bend around my fangs. The language I would speak is one that strikes fear into the hearts of many, not one that communicates the spoken word. I use but a trivial amount of magic in this way: to speak to you within your mind.

“Now onto your last question, or first rather, of what am I? I am known by many as the Immolator, and even more know me as a demon of fire. But if you’re asking what am I to put a physical appearance to the voice you are hearing, then you will not find the answer. Not on my accord. You’ll have to seek that answer out yourself.”

“And you won’t hurt me?” Lomerius asked cautiously, “because it sounds like you’ve been imprisoned here for the safety of others.”

“Oh, but I have. The Arawnni put me here, the true demons. Magic of unrivaled power, even against my kind. They locked me here so that they wouldn’t have to battle me. They knew the power that they stole was no match against me. Now to answer your fifth question of hurting you, I suppose the answer to that depends on the answer of my first question to you. Come now, think carefully of what it was.”

Lomerius’ thought hard for the answer. It wasn’t a riddle, but at that moment felt like the wrong answer might as well be a death sentence. What was it, what was it, what was it! his thoughts screamed internally. Oh! It was ‘why have you come here?’

“I am here by mistake. One of my own. I broke the rocks above and fell, nothing more,” he said in an attempt to sound convincing.

There was a moment of silence that weighed heavily on Lomerius. Suddenly the voice broke the silence from behind him. It sounded uncomfortably close, causing Lomerius to run to a different spot, where he accidentally ran into a column.

“You fell through? Surely there is more to your story than that! What is it you were seeking? It’s alright, you can tell me the truth.”

In response, Lomerius sheepishly said, “it was a stone. One unlike any other that I’ve seen. But I lost it in the fall. So I’d be happy to be on my way.”

A sinister and wicked laughter filled the chamber. In an almost-hiss, the voice replied, “Yes… you lost it. But then again you have found it. Don’t deny it, the stones lining my hall are one in the same. And you seem to have found one now.”

Lomerius’ eyes shot up. He was squatted down, grabbing a stone from the ground, one that had broken off the column when he ran into it. Shit. How did he know that? he thought. He held the stone and remembered that it bolstered his spells, and an idea crossed his mind. I could use the lighting spell to lure it out, and a quake spell to collapse the cavern onto it.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you? I have ten thousand eyes. It was bold of you to assume I could not see in the darkness in which I have lived for thousands of years.” The voice was smug, and turned almost husky, as though hungering for a meal.

“I have seen you the entire time. I believe you are clever, perhaps for your kind, running to each of your spots to fearfully cower in silence. Now, bring me into the light, so you may see.”

Lomerius stood up, clutching the stone, and cast his lighting spell. The stone’s power surged through his veins once more and the light surged as well. The chamber became illuminated and Lomerius half expected to see the beast standing before him menacingly. A sigh of relief passed over him when it was not. He turned around to head to the exit-hole and screamed. The beast was merely feet from him. Standing between two columns was a massive black dragon. It had horns that curved up and around its head, framing wicked and piercing red eyes. Its snout was of medium length, with fifteen foot long fangs. Obsidian black scales covered the dragon, except at the crest of its spine, where jagged black spikes protruded all the way down to its tail. The tail looked as though it were a blade, crafted from black metal—equally as sharp as its claws. The dragon was quite muscular, including its wings that were mostly folded behind it.

Lomerius fell onto his rear while reeling from the shock. He backpedaled as the dragon climbed through the columns at him. The dragon’s mouth didn’t move, but the voice said, “So it is the stones you seek. I was imprisoned here, with nothing. But the Arawnni did not know the power of this tomb. The stones gave them the magic they needed to imprison me here. The stones were intended for my kind, yet their power seeps into the world above, and like leeches you and the Arawnni use it as false masters. You hold my essence—dragon power—in your hand. It is all I possess in this world now, and you want it for yourself, don’t you?”

Lomerius could lie to Azvarr, but he could not lie to himself. Of course he wanted a stone. It amplified his powers tenfold. He gulped as he stood up and said, “No, Azvarr, I don’t want the stone. He does.” He pointed over the dragon’s shoulder, praying his rouse would work. Azvarr stopped his approach and looked over his shoulder, only to realize he had been duped. With a snarl he turned back to face Lomerius, smoke roiling out of his nose and throat. The young Titan had already began running, and cast the quake spell while holding the stone, creating a massive earthquake underneath the pillars throughout the chamber. Azvarr’s throat glowed green and then emerald flames leapt from his mouth. Lomerius dove out of the way. The dragon raced forward to clutch his victory and destroy the Titan, but did so in a rage, clumsily knocking over a few of the pillars and obstructing him. Lomerius ran as fast as he could to the exit-hole. He turned around to see Azvarr thrashing through the rows to get to him.

“You will BURN!” the dragon’s deep voice boomed. It opened its mouth once more and emerald flames leapt out, but only for a brief second as part of the roof of the chamber collapsed onto it. The flames only barely blasted Lomerius, who’s eyebrows singed and leathers blackened as the flames licked them. Lomerius shook off the heat and wiped his face. Then he used the quake spell once more to strategically collapse the rooftop until he could climb his way to the hole. As he did he realized what the dragon meant by having a thousand eyes. Like bats lining a cave, hundreds of small dragons were perched onto the roof of the chamber and began to fly and frenzy. Lomerius climbed quickly, dodging claws and wings until he was back outside on the valley walls. He stood up with relief and a mischievous smile crawled across his face as he looked back down at the stone. Before he could revel in his new find, he heard a screeching sound coming from the hole leading back down into Azvarr’s lair. He approached the edge cautiously and peered inside, thinking perhaps the rest of the chamber was collapsing. Just as he did a stream of the small dragons shot out of the entrance. Hundreds of tiny dragons, as small as five feet long, flooded into the valley.

Lomerius spun around and put his hand through his hair. He had no idea what to do. Then a massive explosion sounded behind him as the ground above on the plains erupted, the force knocking him forward onto his chest. Out of the exploded dirt Azvarr the Immolator burst from the ground. It was a sight to behold. The dragon was a five hundred feet long, with wings extending nearly double that. As it flapped its jet black wings, its scales shimmered like obsidian in the sunlight and a great wind ripped across the plains.

Iberus was still on his porch when the dragon burst from the ground and the valley’s wall collapsed onto itself. A dust cloud erupted into the valley, pushed along by the wings of Azvarr. He had only seen the dragon for a brief moment; his old eyes weren’t sure of what he had spotted before the dust clouded his vision. The dragon flew over the edge into the Emerald Vale with fury. Azvarr unleashed a torrent of emerald flames down onto the land, igniting the crops, houses, and Titans below. Through the dust a bright green, sustained flash could be seen. The screams could be heard across the land. Iberus jumped out of his chair with a vigor he had not felt in millennia. He went inside his home and pulled a long, shallow chest from under his bed. He opened it to reveal a longsword, expertly crafted and magically imbued thousands of years ago. There was no need for it once the Arawnni vanished mysteriously, so he had stashed it away. Titans did not have many enemies, but now, they had the worst one imaginable. Running back into the valley, Iberus saw dozens of Titans fleeing to the north and Lomerius scrambling down the hills until he too joined their ranks. He ran alongside them as the dragon continued to rain fire down.

Within days, the Emerald Vale was scorched, along with everything surrounding it for hundreds of miles. The great dragon Azvarr the Immolator laid waste to the Titans, chasing them from the continent of Velkuhn, across the Northern Verglas Mountains to the Sapphire Sea, where it was never seen again. Life did not return to the valley for thousands of years. When it did, the harsh sands that replaced the once fertile fields and grasses showed no mercy. The Great Azvarrian Desert enveloped the land, and entombed beneath remained the power of the dragon.