Tale of Newar

“Gather together children”. Abinine clapped her hands, the sound loud and harsh. “Children”!

Unusual from an outsider's perspective this group of juvenile humans was not running about, no laughter, no chatter, or smiles. A solemn little group of creatures, they had already gathered together. Unfortunately for them what Abinine had meant was line up. The distinction was unknowable and inconsequential for most. It, however, put them in a great deal of danger of a casual cuffing, or worse yet no dinner. Which, as most of them only got dinner in their grubby little chafed hands three or four times a week, was a far far more serious threat, especially for the younger ones.

Amongst the eleven gathered was an unremarkable little boy. Cute, in the way that all small children are, with dirty brown curls and wide brown eyes, but unremarkable. Still a bit unsteady on his feet when the children dashed to rearrange themselves in a manner that would not cost them he ended up on his tush in the mud. He crinkled his nose as if to cry but no sound came. Heaving a sigh one of the older boys darted from line and snatched him up. He placed him on his feet and gave the seat of the lad's trousers a quick, but ineffectual brush off. Instead it simply smeared mud along the older boy’s thin sleeves. He grimaced but when the little boy’s hand found his he did not pull away.

They stood in the clearing outside a rough wooden cabin. A thatched roof that trapped smoke but provided no warmth covered it. Outside was scattered the evidence of years of poverty and neglect. A few thin chickens wandered the yard, carelessly pecking the earth here and there. With a scowl Abinine marched over to one of the sheds and snatched up a handful of baskets. She tossed them at the children’s feet.

“You know the rules”, she snapped. “A full basket for each of ya, ya don come bach without”.

The children rushed to snatch up the smallest of the baskets and turned to the forest. The older boy who still held the little one’s hand stood silently and waited, until there were only two baskets left, both the largest and the most worn and broken. With a sigh he stepped forward to grab them both when Abinine stepped into his path. Contempt flashed in her face and she gestured at his sleeve.

“What’s the matta with ya? Disgustin ya are”. The boy's face tightened but he said nothing. She sneered at his silence. “You clean yourself up. And refill the woodpile before you go”. Medon, his name was Medon, swallowed and glanced towards the wall of the cabin. The wood pile was almost nothing, a few old logs that had been tough to split and kindling. It would take hours to finish, all day, and by then the other ones would have gathered up all the mushrooms in the forests nearby. They would have to go further into the woods in the dark. And everyone knew you stayed out of the forest in the dark. It was bad enough in the light. Medon glanced up at Abinine, whose vindictive smile made him nauseous.

“You know the rules Medon. You don come back without”.

Many miles away, in a cave that was a cave no longer, as it had several decades before caved in and became an underground cavern, what appeared to be a giant pile of boulders and rocks gave a small twitch. Then another and for a long while the cave stood silent. When suddenly the earth itself heaved as the form of a long slumbering dragon began to rouse itself. Bauccus stretched slowly and then, with a long suffering sigh began to shake himself, much as a dog would after a bath. The simile ends there though as instead of water droplets what he shook off amounted to several tons of rocks and dirt. He sat back with what amounted to a frown, as far as dragons’ features are apt to give one. His ruby scales had hardly begun to peak through.

“Mother of the sky’ he grumbled as he stood and began to slowly pace the cavern. He gave the battered stone walls a scouring look. “Could’ve sworn the entrance was right here” he said, staring at a ripple of dirt and stones. He turned his long neck over his left shoulder. “Or was it that side”? He thought back, no it was here, most definitely. He turned about giving him the most room to work with his club of a tail and gave a mighty swing. He watched the way the rocks crumbled closely and, satisfied by the way they fell, set to work.

As he worked he hummed an old dwarvish mining song to himself and thought about old friends. He wished Aldicus was still alive, as he always did after a long rest. Good friends like that, old friends, were hard to find and harder to keep. Dwarves were often greedy little blighters, fun to tease even funnier to steal from. Elves and dragons had always been close, although their penchant for speaking in riddles did cause an occasional headache. The yeltis of the north, giant creatures with fair white hair that practically covered their bodies. A good race, but Bauccus did not appreciate the climate. He also had some old friends amongst the Tree Keepers to the south. A small people, who each tended to their own piece of the forest, but they got exceptionally pissy if you accidently squashed a sapling or two, and it is hard to stay in flight the entire duration of a friendship. Humans, even the wizardly ones, just did not live long enough. A few centuries at most, except for Aldicus of course. He had celebrated one thousand two hundred and thirty one birthdays. Always said he was keen to make it to his fifteenth hundred. But Aldicus had been different. Otherwise a wound or two and off they go. One heart? Bauccus snorted, how ridiculous. When Aldicus had first told him that Bauccus had thought he was putting him on. Of course that was so long ago now, when they were both so young. Now Bauccus was old, even by a dragon’s standards.

Now he had no wish to go to battle, to capture maidens, to terrorize the dwarves and sit upon their mounds of gold and jewels for a few centuries. No Buccus was tired, leave that to the young worms. He simply wished to see old friends and sit in the sunshine again. But first a bath and a hart.

Medon trudged the sled of wood up to the pile and unloaded it. He wiped his brow and frowned down at his hands. They were splintered and bloody but the first task was finally done. He glanced up at the overcast day. The clouds made the time hard to tell but he guessed they still had a few hours until sunset. He could try to find somewhere safe for the young lad. Q he called him. The boy had no name, had been dropped at the orphanage without one. He had said naught, cried not once, never cooed or gurgled and even though he was approaching three winters still he did not speak. He was silent. He was quiet. He was Q.

Medon had taken him under his wing first thing, even though he himself was only eight when they had found Q outside the door. He had dreamed of a brother, a father, a friend. Someone to take him away from this place. He dreamed of it still, but one had not come to rescue him. So when he looked upon the babe Abinine had tossed upon the table like a piece of bread muttering about another mouth to feed even though the village gave her a stipend to do it, he could not walk away, back towards the meager fire as the others had. If he was not going to be rescued then he supposed he would rescue another. He would make himself a brother.

Now though he fiddled with his tattered sleeves. It was one thing for him in the woods in the dark. It was early spring and the nights were still cold, and the damp in the air would chill them both. Besides the natural dangers of the wood, there was something unnatural about this one. Everyone knew that, those that went in in the dark did not come back the same, if they came back at all. He had to find shelter for Q, find some more wood and build a fire. Hopefully the clouds would clear and he could find the mushrooms in the night and get them both back in the morning. The forest around the Feld was old, filled with dangerous creatures, and black things that in the night made known their distaste for the race of men. One night would be dangerous, two a death sentence and Medon did not want to die.

He swung the baskets upon his shoulders and took Q’s hand. Setting off on the trail into the forest he did not venture off for almost an hour. By then the gray of the day had deepened into an impending dusk and Medon’s senses heightened and his pace slowed as he scanned for shelter. The path became much more overgrown and weeded, just a faint hint of a trail. Until finally he heard the faint roar of a river off to the left. Hesitating he halted, they would need water, and perhaps there was a glen or thicket they could make camp in, yet he hated to leave the relative safety of the trail. He looked down at Q, who looked back up at him in silence. Nodding he made his choice, and set off the path with the boy right behind.

Cutting through the undergrowth made things much more difficult and slower, also as the roar of the water slowly got louder Medon realized he had sorely underestimated the distance. As they trudged on he fought down a rising panic, until they came upon a set of small boulders. It wasn’t perfect but would have to do. He took off their baskets and set them down, then quickly gathered as many broken branches as he could in the nearby vicinity and constructed a crude shelter, in fact little more than a poor excuse for a threadbare roof, but it would keep Q partially hidden while he searched out more wood for fire and a better shelter, as a well as some water.

That done he scooped up Q and set him down under the little roof, just big rough for him to curl himself under.

“Q. “ He said. “I need you to stay here”. He pointed at the shelter. “Stay. I will be right back for you brother”. Q, as always, was silent, but he nodded. They had done this before, Q knew to stay put when Medon asked him. Medon gave him a small smile and turned towards the river. Without Q he made much better time though the quiet of the forest seemed ominous and slightly threatening. On the trail it was nerve wracking, but out here, amongst the trees it was far closer to frightening. He glanced back over his shoulder, but there was nothing. Turning forward he pushed on, shaking his head, he quietly talked himself down.

“There’s nothing out here, you’re being a fool lad” He told himself, but no matter how many times he said it the hair on the back of his neck still rose, and he felt unknown eyes on him. He felt like prey. Finally patches of silver shone through ahead and the trees lightened. He crashed through the last of the thicket and breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped to his knees and pulled out a flask made of sheep bladder. His prized possession he had found in the remnants of a traveling caravan that had gone through the Feld the summer past. He drank deeply and was refilling the flask for Q when a roar stopped his heart cold.

Bauccus had finally dug his way out midafternoon, further tarnishing his ruby scales he postponed a meal and immediately took to the sky to bathe in the mighty Shai’Mae. There were other, smaller rivers and streams closer but given the amount of dirt he’d accumulated under his claws and scales he wanted to bathe himself thoroughly and dive deep, not simply scrub himself in a muddle trickle, as he put it.

His desire for sunlight drove him high into the clouds and above them. The air was cold and the clouds below gloomy and gray, but seeing the light above was greeting an old friend after those decades in the dark below and it felt good to stretch his wings. That is until a tug at his instincts drove him to duck back into the clouds with a heavy sigh. The sky stood low today and by the time he re-exited the clouds the trees were close, the green of the firs a stark contrast. He coasted, this time humming a sea shanty from the coastal people of the Bay of Shamur, until something slightly unusual caught his interest.

He dropped his altitude a bit. It looked like a pile of wood humans used to build their fires. But that couldn't be right, it was lying wrong, the technique totally off. Besides, humans knew better than to be in the Forest of Laimashane after nightfall. At least they had when he’d gone into hibernation. The old sorcerer had corrupted these woods, his dark power leaked into the water that dripped through the trees and the soil. His hatred for the men that resisted him passed down. Even now when his name was only whispered by the few with knowledge of the ancient world and the time long past the memories of the older generations, humans should still be able to sense that these woods were not for them. Especially after nightfall.

He flew past the little pile set upon two stones, but only made it another heartbeat or so before his curiosity tugged him back. He winged over and landed in the trees about the little clearing, claws dug into several of the old firs, groaning as they bore his weight.

He cocked his head as he surveyed the scene, then lowered his head to look under the branches. Two brown eyes peered back.

“Hello”. Bauccus rumbled. The child said nothing, simply raised his hand.

Now what had Aldicus called that?

“A wave, yes”. Bauccus said out loud. The little boy nodded.

“Hmm”. Bauccus muttered as he delicately extracted himself from the trees. Uneducated humans that resided in backwoods like these oft thought of dragons as dangerous, as beasts. The audacity, but this young one didn’t seem frightened of him Bauccus thought. In fact it was waving again.

“Yes, yes. Hello young one”. He raised his own enormous claw. It made the little thing smile. Bauccus looked around, there was no other human here, but this one was too young to have made it here alone. He frowned, had the forest already made the boy an orphan, or was there simply a fool about here somewhere who had failed to notice his dissent to earth and had left this child unattended. It really wasn’t his business he told himself, he had business elsewhere, things to get on with, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to take flight and leave the boy.

He sighed, “If your fool cohorts have a bow I shall be quite peeved”. He told the boy. “I still have a sore shoulder from the War of Marque, and that was years ago. Still a bit of shaft left in there I would imagine”. The boy was still underneath those ridiculous branches but he did look up with interest. “The great mage of Niarborn once offered to remove it for me, in exchange for one of my heartscales”. The boy tilted his head.

“Yes I know. Quite the price to pay. Besides it comes in handy when the weather's about to turn, makes quite a fuss about the whole thing when snow is about to fall”. Bauccus looked down, to be perfectly frank it had been quite some time since he spent time with any humans and he couldn’t quite remember when it was they learned to communicate. This one seemed to be listening though.

“Oh the hell with it”. Bauccus muttered. With that he let out an earthshaking roar.

Medon raced through the woods, his heart was pounding and his lungs burning. If anything had happened to Q, oh god he would never forgive himself. He tripped over some branches and slid down a decline, without pausing he wrenched himself up and kept running. He winced as a branch struck his face but didn’t slow. Suddenly the treeline ended and he was back. He pulled up short, wheezing and amazed.

There was a, well, a mound of dirty rubies with a giant catlike head looming over Q and a small fire. The mound was saying something. Medon stared, Q didn't seem to be in any danger, in fact he was looking intently at whatever it was.

“And so I told him, even if he was a king, his wife was right, he was a fool. Imagine losing your son like that cause you insisted he be included on a hunt. In that fog? Really? It was lucky I could find the boy, though my eyesight was a bit better back then. C ouldn’t have found the fool’s offspring in this day and age. Probably had been better if I hadn’t, the lad’s grandson started three wars. Three of them, but that’s neither here nor there I suppose. One cannot focus on the what ifs. I took a wagon full of gold for my trouble. Slept on it through the Iron Wars. Same wars I just mentioned ironically. Not terribly comfortable gold. I’ll tell you, as you seem a quiet lad and unlikely to spoil a dragon’s reputation. But it's cold and can get stuck in your scales. Sand is quite lovely if you can find a nice cave to hole up in, but the cave is quite a requirement” Q. nodded.

“Otherwise you'll wake up with it all blown away on a hard patch of granite. Also ate the pony. That wasn’t really part of the payment but by the time I found the boy I was hungry. I qualified that as a sufferance fee. You’ll find my lad, if you deal with a lot of humans, a sufferance fee is quite necessary to tack on. Foolish, self centered, if not egotistical, insecure, if not afraid stupid. Exhausting bunch”. As he said this he looked up at Medon.

“One and all”.

Medon stepped forward slowly. A lifetime with Abinine had taught him it was better to say nothing at all in almost any situation, unless a question is asked of you directly. This, thing, however, seemed almost friendly. Q was more comfortable than Medon had ever seen him and curiosity was killing him. He swallowed.

The creature sighed. “Another mute one. Quite a shame…Unless they still don’t talk at that age”. He reasoned. “ yet I think that one's old enough. I should have paid better attention in Aldicus’ humanity lessons”. He scratched his chin. “I can’t remember the last time I met a juvenile”.

“I can speak”. Medon whispered out.

“Oh can you now? How excellent. I was afraid I was going to have to carry the conversation through the night”.

“What are you?” Medon whispered.

Bauccus was silent for a moment,

“What am I”? He asked, “My boy, I am a dragon”. He looked at Medon as if he were talking to a moron.

“Who are you”?

Medon swallowed. “I’m Medon. This is my brother Q”.

Bauccus looked between the two. There was certainly no blood shared there, he would have seen it and smelt it. Their ancestral lines had not crossed and yet…

He looked closer at Medon’s eyes, then back at the young lads, and back. Medon bristled.

“He’s me brother” he scowled.

“Alright then, what are you and your brother doing out here in the Forest of Laimashane in the growing dark”?

“Abinine”. Medon said as if it explained all. But apparently it did, or rather, it explained enough. Bauccus gave a sigh as if racing some decision a bit larger than simply shielding two boys who could not have weighed more than eighty pounds between them for the night.

“C’mon then”, he says. “I s’pose I shall see you two all right”.