Tales of Numenterra

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley."

"Not this again," Sloan grumbled, "moldy old crone."

"That's my Nan you're insulting," Brenna said.

"So what?," Sloan snapped, "she don't mind."

"Your words might not reach her, but I won't stand to hear them," Brenna said.

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," Nan said absently, mouth never quite closing, watching the modest fire they were gathered around, apparently oblivious to anything else. The cave they sheltered in was damp, and hot from the heat of the fire. It was one of many in the East Mountains; Father had told Brenna that they once contained the homes of dwarves in a bygone era. Sloan later insisted, however, that they were the burrows of some dreadful kind of monster, left here from the time before the Godswall. Now it was a convenient hiding place for this small gaggle of refugees who had nowhere else to go.

"And I can't stand another moment of her mindless babble about dragons in the Valley," Sloan said, "but here I am."

You couldn’t stand anything even if you wanted to, Brenna wanted to say, but she stopped herself. It would be too cruel a thing to say to a man who had just lost both of his feet, even if the man was as belligerent and sour as Sloan. Mother and Father had taught her better. Besides, Sloan’s wife and son, who were also huddled by the fire, were not horribly rude like Sloan, and Brenna didn’t want to upset them.

“My parents saved your life, Sloan,” Brenna said, managing to stay composed, “you could at least tolerate my father’s mother.”

Sloan’s face reddened. “Your father cut my bloody feet off-”

“That’s enough,” Nora, Sloan’s wife, said, “Love, the girl is right. Mind your tongue.” Nora hadn’t said much since the two families met. Brenna had wondered if Nora was quiet because her husband was so quick to anger, but to Brenna's amused surprise Sloan shut himself up after Nora's chastising, except for a few mutters too quiet for anyone to understand. No, Nora didn't fear her husband, but she did look scared. It was the kind of fear that comes after one loses everything, or almost everything. The kind of fear that happens when life takes an unexpected turn and throws the future into a whirlwind where all one's hopes, dreams, and expectations are blown and scattered far away, perhaps never to be found again. It was the kind of fear that Brenna knew all of them felt as they huddled around the fire, taking whatever comfort they could from its warmth against the cool Spring night air made colder by the dark damp of the cave.

Well, everyone except maybe Nan, who probably didn't quite understand what was happening, her mind having mostly gone in her old age.

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," Nan said.

Sloan made an exasperated noise but said nothing. He rolled over in the bed of leaves they had made for him to rest on while he recovered from his amputations. There was no blanket for him, and the bandaged stumps where his feet used to be pointed right at Brenna.

Brenna shuddered at the memory. When her father found them, Nora and Bo, their son, were doing their best to carry Sloan through the woods to safety, and her father had led them to the cave where Brenna and her mother were. A burning building had collapsed on Sloan during the raid and reduced his feet to mangled masses of bone and flesh that could hardly be recognized as feet, and even mother's magic was not enough to save them. They had to be cut off when it was clear they were infected, and there was of course no sort of medicine available. Mother was able to help the pain and stop the bleeding with her magic, but it was still a gruesome ordeal as Father cut each foot off with the only tool available: his hunting knife. Sloan's life was saved, but Brenna wondered what kind of life he would have to look forward to with no feet to stand on.

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," Nan said.

Brenna uncrossed her legs and pulled her knees up to where she could hide her face behind them. Sloan's feet were probably the least of his worries. He and his family had lost so much more than that. They all had. Images of burning buildings and screaming people lurked in the dark corners of her mind, always ready to grab her, to drag her back to that scene of unadulterated horror. She had watched her home burn, seen her neighbors and friends die by fire and by serrated sword right before her eyes as she fled the town with her parents.

But the most horrible images were of the dragons themselves. Father said they weren't true dragons, but Brenna could not think of them as anything else. They walked like humans on two feet, had hands like humans that bore vicious weapons. They had no wings, like the dragons in the stories the town elders used to tell, but they could breathe fire like those story dragons. They were clad in armour, and their tails were clad in spikes so that they served as weapons. Their heads were crested with three horns protruding back from their brows, and their scaly skin was the colour of dull sand.

The worst was their slitted eyes; cold blue to match their cold, expressionless faces. Brenna thought it was terror she felt when she heard the first screams of the townsfolk the night the dragons came. Thought it was terror she felt when buildings in the distance began to burst into flames, or when she saw fear in her mother's and father's faces as they hurried to get out of their home, and then down the streets of their town to get away.

"Dad, what's happening outside?" Brenna had asked.

"We need to go, Bree, now," her father had said, not taking time to explain. He was throwing things into a sack.

"But," Brenna had been disoriented in those first moments "what's going on?"

"Brenna," her father had turned to her, looking her in the eye, "we need to go. Get your pendant and then help your mother."

They left two minutes later. Father led the way, Nan on his back, down the streets to the other side of town away from the fires and into the woods and the mountains beyond them. But the screams and fires were nearly all around them by then. They had reached the gate leading out of the town nearly at the same time as they did.

Brenna’s family had rounded a corner of a building onto the road before the gate and saw the dragons marching quickly towards the gate from a different way. That was when Brenna knew she had felt terror. Their hulking figures, taller and larger than any man she had seen, charged at the sight of them. Their cold unfeeling eyes, it seemed to Brenna, had locked onto her and only her. The leader of the charge uttered a roar more terrible than anything Brenna had ever heard. Her legs had gone slack in that moment, like the bones had vanished from within them, robbing her of the ability to stand. Her father had quickly pulled her along, not breaking stride. Her mother shot only one arrow in their direction, landing it in the roaring dragon's maw, before they dashed out through the gate.

The dragons didn't follow. They only shut the gate, preventing anyone else from escaping through it. Brenna didn't know how long it took for her to remember to take conscious control of her breathing, and conscious control of her limp, shaky limbs from terror's iron grip. Brenna could feel that terror lingering, lurking somewhere in her mind ready to seize her again like a cougar ready to pounce on some hapless rabbit. Her nights have been mostly sleepless, not for the physical discomfort of the hard ground, but for the fear of her nightmares. The days since the attack were spent doing little; Brenna would go out with her mother in the mornings to look for sticks for the night’s fire as well as any food they could find. Father would go off alone to hunt. The rest of the day, for Brenna, was spent in the cave, helping her mother with whatever she needed, or listening to Sloan complain or Nan ramble.

She tried talking to Bo more than once, but he never answered her. He looked close to Brenna’s age, and she thought that they could be friends. But Bo didn’t seem to be fully aware of his surroundings; his brown eyes stared at nothing in particular, seeing without perceiving. Brenna was sure that she must have looked like this when they fled the town. She was fighting to not give in to despair, but they had been in the cave for days, and every time her parents went to go check on the town at night she had to try not to think about what might happen to them.

No, she scolded herself, do not think of that. Don't even get close. She searched her mind desperately for just one happy memory to cling to, one happy memory to lose herself in for a while to keep her sane.

Brenna was at the river with her parents. Her father was showing her how to catch fish with a spear, her mother was weaving a basket out of reeds, smiling as she watched her. It was a beautiful day with a few white clouds punctuating the blue sky. The cold water of the river felt refreshing under the hot sun. She was laughing with her father, trying without much success of sticking the slippery fish onto the tip of her spear. Her father told her to adjust her aim, explaining that the water was tricking her eyes. She thrust the spear in again, and to her shocked glee…

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," Nan said.

The memory was gone, jolted back to reality, and despair had Brenna in a stranglehold again. Oh, where were Mother and Father? They had been gone longer than usual and it was wearing on Brenna's sanity.

A sound of rustling brush from outside the cave made everyone's head turn to the mouth of the cave - everyone except Nan, that is. They all held their breath for a nervous moment before Brenna's father appeared, followed closely by her mother.

"Pity's sake, Marlo!" Sloan said, "you could at least say something on your way in to spare our hearts."

"Forgive me," Father said, taking a seat by the fire next to Brenna, who slumped into him, relishing the safety she felt now that her parents were here.

"Nevermind," Sloan said, "what's happening in town?"

Mother and Father shared a glance, and Brenna could already tell the news was bad.

"More of them were arriving when we could see the town," Father said, "there must be at least twice as many of them as there were in the raid. I think they’re going to use our town as a fort. We won’t be safe here for much longer."

The comment hung in the air for a moment, no one ready to acknowledge it. They all knew that the security of hiding in the cave wasn't absolute, but they hoped it would be anyway.

"I still can't move myself," Sloan said, pausing to swallow. The look of worry in his face was mirrored in Nora's face.

"We stole a horse," Mother said.

Sloan, Nora, and even Bo shot their gaze at Mother with astonished eyes wide open. It was the most expression Brenna had ever seen in Bo.

"What? How?" Nora asked.

Father and Mother smiled. "It’s a long story," Father said, "that's why we didn't get back before dark. It's for you, Sloan, so you can travel." Brenna knew her father was avoiding the question to save her from worry; he always used the phrase “it’s a long story” precisely to that end.

Sloan’s jaw was slack in disbelief. “Thank you,” he said, scarcely louder than a choked out whisper.

“Of course,” her father said. “Lyra and I think that they’re going to start patrolling the woods, my family will leave early in the morning.”

“Then we’ll go, too,” Sloan said, “we should go to Magna Regnum, and petition the Ironguard to send those damned lizards back to whatever hell they came from.”

Mother and Father shared a glance that Brenna noticed, and understood. She touched the pendant around her neck.

“We will help you get to Aurum,” Father said, “but from there we will go our own way. The road from Aurum to Mangna Regnum will be safe enough for you to travel alone.”

“But, well, now hold on a minute,” Sloan said, “Magna Regnum is just an idea, we’ll gladly go wherever you’re headed.”

“Going to Magna Regnum is a good idea, someone should tell the Ironguard about this.”

“But, well if that’s so then why don’t you come with us?” Sloan pleaded.

“We have family near Aurum that we must warn, and help prepare to flee if need be,” Father said. It wasn’t a complete lie; they had family, but it wasn’t exactly near Aurum. If they took Sloan’s family to Aurum on foot they’d spend at least two days backtracking to reach them. Also, they were going to their family because they lived in the Phanes Forest, which was the safest place to go, if you knew what you were doing.

“But, but… But there are bandits on the roads! Highwaymen! Even in the central regions of the empire!” Sloan cried, “I can’t protect us from them, not in this state.”

Before Father could speak, Nora put a hand on Sloan’s chest and said; “That's enough, Love.” She turned to Mother and Father, “Thank you, Marlo, Lyra. If you can get us to Aurum, we can get ourselves the rest of the way to Magna Regnum. We’ll be fine.”

There wasn’t much to talk about after that. Besides, it was very late. Now that Mother and Father had returned, Brenna was able to relax enough to notice just how tired she actually was, and she retired to her makeshift bed on the ground of the cave. It was little more than a pile of leaves, like Sloan’s, and barely offered any comfort at all, but it was enough, given the circumstances. What bothered Brenna more than the pitiful excuse of a bed was the fact that there was nowhere to bathe; she hated feeling dirty. But whenever she caught herself thinking about it, she scolded herself. She had narrowly escaped death, and her family also made it out alive, so why should she be unhappy over something like being able to bathe?

Thoughts like these helped keep thoughts of the dragons at bay. If her mind was busy, even on trivial thoughts, it wouldn’t wander to more unpleasant ones. So she thought about how she should be more grateful for what she hadn’t lost to the raid, and about the journey ahead. The only problem with this strategy is that her busy mind kept her awake at night. But, she reasoned with herself, the unpleasant thoughts that would ruthlessly commandeer her mind in the absence of trivial busy thoughts would likely keep her up as well. Moreover, Sloan's snoring would probably have kept her awake no matter what she thought about. Eventually, exhaustion won the struggle of her thoughts and she would fall asleep, long after everyone else.

Everyone had gone to sleep, and Brenna was in the middle of thinking about Aurum, where she’d only been once, when she was a young girl, when she heard rustling coming from across the cave. She looked over to see Bo, sitting up in his leaf pile bed. In the dim moonlight that made it into the cave, mixed with the dimmer red glow of the dying embers of the fire, her inhuman eyesight let her see that he was sweating. Perhaps he had a nightmare. Brenna couldn’t blame him. Bo pulled his knees up to his chest and sat there for a while, trying to control his breathing. Brenna watched him, glad for a distraction she didn’t need to put effort into. She felt like Bo would be handsome if he wasn’t constantly gripped by fear. She tried to picture a version of Bo that was happy and confident. She tried to imagine what Bo might have been like before tragedy had destroyed their town, their world.

Then, suddenly, Bo turned to look at her, and their eyes met. But no, that couldn't be. She could see him clearly, but he shouldn't be able to discern anything about her beyond maybe her shape in the dark. Her hand went silently to her pendant, still around her neck, not moving anything else and not looking away from Bo's eyes. Bo's breathing slowed as he looked at her, or at least toward her, and the distress on his face slowly dissipated. After a long moment - Brenna couldn’t be sure how long - Bo laid back down in his bed to sleep, leaving Brenna puzzled. Had he known she was looking at him? What was he thinking about as he looked at her? Why did he choose to look at her, in particular?

Brenna rolled in her bed to face the ceiling of the cave. She knew she would have enough thoughts to keep her mind busy tonight.