Scales of Time

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The Valley used to be ethereal. Mountains of naked rock on either side of the river banks would catch the rays of golden sunlight every dusk and every dawn. The river Galdr would never stop moving, the pulses of water on the riverside becoming the familiar heartbeat of every new person born to the valley. Everyone born on our land is blessed, my mother used to say. Everyone born to the sound of the Valley has Galdr flowing through their veins.

There used to be seasons. I remember the season when the green of the trees would fade into the ambers and crimson found on the grass that we walked on. I loved watching the leaves crumble like rust between my fingers.

I remember the time of the year when the wind nymphs would bring with them the white, wispy flakes of snow from the peaks of the mountains surrounding us. The children, rosy-faced from the cold, would run outside from their homes to feel the icy powder on their tongues, swearing the Auloniads - nymphs of the Valley- were the ones turning the flakes to water in their mouths. Of course, the parents would let them stay ignorant of their joy, rather than burning it away with the sound of logic.

There was the season of growth that brought our people the birth of young crops and animals, as well as returning to us the green of the trees that surround us. The peaks of the mountains surrounding us would become visible; I used to think that getting to the top would be easy, and would let me see the entirety of Vakkeria in all its beauty.

And then would come the season of heat- Solka- we used to call it. I remember how it brought out the laughter of children and adults alike; everyone would use this season as an excuse to do little work, to lie on the grassy land occupied by Laekna flowers- little blood red petals with long violet stigmas protruding out of them. We would lay blissfully among the colours and admire the sun, waiting for the drops of light to sink into our skin. Galdr would be hot enough for us all to bathe in. We were never embarrassed by our bodies, as I knew people could be in other parts of Vakkeria- nor did we have any cause to be.

Solka was known as the season of ebullience and light.

Until the light had been choked out.

***

It was the Solka I turned twelve, and on the day of my birth, my mother had started to prepare for the night’s celebrations. The saccharine smell of Laekna filled our home, and the crackling blaze on the hearth reminded me of the snapping of twigs in the forest outside the Valley. My home was bliss. I asked if she wanted me to help, but she only replied softly: “go get cleaned up in Galdr, my little kriger, and get dressed for tonight.”

Whilst I left our wooden house, she began to sing. She had a beautiful voice, my mother, one that attracted the hearts of men and women all over the Valley, along with her irresistible foreign appearance. We were darker in colour than most of the people who resided in the Valley, with curly, brown hair. Our eyes were intense chartreuse- so intense that Dorian would swear they could be seen from the other side of the river. I never questioned the differences between us and the others in the Valley... though I should have.

Dorian, my closest friend, joined me as I bathed in the river. Unlike myself, he was pale, with brown freckles dusted all over his face and chest. I enjoyed admiring his stormy grey eyes, which reminded me of the mountains of our valley, just as he enjoyed admiring mine.

As we dried ourselves off and got dressed on the side of Galdr, I looked into the river, the light of the sun glimmering on the surface. Suddenly, my reflection darkened. Intense consternation swept over my body like a shower of cold water.

“Idalia!” called Dorian, pointing upwards towards the sky in panic.

Colossal nebulous figures obscured by darkened winds spiraled over our heads. Their impetus caused the ice caps on the near mountains to shatter, leaving a deafening roar in their collapse. As the beasts above began to glide down frenetically, their magnificence came into my view. I noticed their night-black scales had lines of gold spreading over them, in a vein-like pattern. Their two wings were large enough to make someone believe that day had turned to night if the beast was flying above them. I was trying to make out the colour of their slit eyes when Dorian grabbed my hand and pulled me forwards frantically, wrenching me out of my daze. We were running towards the opening of the Valley.

“ Idalia come on! We must hurry!”

“What are they?” I asked him, becoming more and more breathless the faster we ran.

“Dragons!”

Dragons. It was the first I heard of them, though the creatures themselves felt… familiar.

We finally reached the opening, where parents were throwing their children into small boats on the river in a frightened attempt to get them to safety. I looked back over my shoulders and staggered at the picture I saw before me.

My home- all of the homes- had been destroyed. Dragons rampaged across the ruins, some breathing fire from their mouths, turning our crops and livestock into dust and corpses. The land began to blacken from the thick smoke left behind. Their tails, as long as trees of the oldest kind, were writhing as the dragons moved from place to place within the Valley as if they were searching for something they could not find. They were in rage- calculated rage.

“Why are they here, Dorian? What are they trying to do?”

“They aren’t trying to do anything, Idalia. They just destroy and kill. That’s all they know.”

After hearing this, the screams of those around me became enhanced. My nose focused more on the miasma of burning that filled the Valley.

“My mother!” I cried, “ where is she?”

Panic engulfed me. My eyes searched and scanned every corner of the Valley that they could; my ears tried to block out the sounds of chaos that had erupted, along with the sound of Dorian praying to the Auloniads.

I do not see the spirits aiding us now, I thought. We have been abandoned.

My eyes then caught a shining glint flying towards the sky. My mother’s dagger. A group of parents and elders had gathered with what little armour we had in the heart of the Valley, fiercely trying to protect what was left of our demolished Eden.

"Wait! We need to stay by the boats!" yelled Dorian when my hand left his.

As I ran towards my Mother, our eyes met; she didn’t seem scared, nor was she panicked or surprised. She pointed behind me with her swordless hand and shouted. “Get out of here Idalia! Go with Dorian to the boats- head north towards the Kingdom of Lagalnya!”

I grabbed the front of her dress the second I reached her, panting against her chest. “I will not leave you, Mother. I cannot,” I whispered. My cheeks were wet.

"Elena! Above you!" cried a Father near us.

She glanced above my head and quickly pushed us both sideways, narrowly avoiding being turned to ashes along with the remains of the crops left at our feet. My knees bashed against some rocks as we fell. My eyes were beginning to burn from the heat. I could hear Dorian calling for me in the distance. Mother pulled me up with urgency.

“Go, my kriger, follow Galdr. I must stay and fight with the Valley elders.”

“They do not need you like I do, Mother. Please, come with us,” I begged while she had finished transferring the pendant from her neck to mine. She drew me in, resting her chin on my head. I could feel her heartbeat. Galdr runs through our veins.

“I love you, Idalia. You will see me again, I promise. Dorian, take care of her- now go!” Dorian had just reached us, and after hearing my Mother, his ash-grey eyes darkened as he nodded. No other words came out of my mouth as he pulled me away once again. My face remained in the direction of Mother, watching her join the other valiant men and women with hand-crafted swords and arrows, watching them try to send their weapons into the non-existent cracks of the dragons’ armour. One of the obsidian creatures opened its jaws so wide that I could see the sparks of energy before the flames made their way out with rapid speed... towards a Valley elder. I could feel Dorian helping me into a boat as I saw my mother run into the wall of languid flames to help the old man. I did not see her again.

It felt like a dreadful dream. Chaos had befallen the only home I had ever known. The trees were left bare to the Solka heat; the ambers and crimson flowing everywhere were not due to the changing of seasons, but the bringing of discord. The potent winds were brought by the beating of wings, the painful screams of the nymphs drowned out by the tremendous growls of the brutes. Our once idyllic land had been scorched and trampled upon, leaving nothing but a barren landscape engulfed by violent flames and black clouds. Gone was the bliss and soulfulness that we had grown up with.

As Dorian began rowing us out of the opening, I could only focus on the sound of Galdr pushing against the oars. I placed my clammy fingers against the pendant resting on my pounding heart.

Count your breaths with me, Mother would say. One, two, three...

The numbed feeling began to leave my skin. Despondency took over. Only then did I notice the aching throb on my knees. I lifted my dress slowly to see the beading drops of blood decorating my leg. I dropped the dress in frustration. My fingers found their way back to my neck and wrapped around the pendant as if to ground my spiralling mind. Mother used to keep the thing surreptitiously hidden underneath her dresses. I looked at it intently.

A charcoal black triangle, thick like a metal sword, with the texture of old leather. Faint lines of brilliant gold ran through it, as thin as the hair on my scalp.

A dragon’s scale.