The Coming Fire

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. They came from the Arid Fjords from the north and swooped down on our town, bringing their arid lands with them. Now they have overtaken our land. Like the Kudzu plant chokes the life of a forest, so too have the dragons smothered the life out of our lands. Driving us from our homes and into new harsh lands. One’s in which warlords and empires fight over useful pieces of land and are unkind to those who are not like them.

Although our caravan has survivors from many more Valley Tribes, we are the Chazars. The last of our warriors have been slaughtered; they died fighting over the last piece of scorched earth we once called our home. Struck down on a useless piece of land. Now we are looking for refuge from anyone who may offer it.

“God, the Chazars, the Khozacs, the Methodines, how many damn nomadic tribes are down thine in the valley?” Groaned the guard.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, slightly annoyed by his interruption.

“We hath heard thine story from at least four of yer Valley Tribes this week, isn’t that right?” he asked his fellow guard.

“Yup.” Replied his fellow guard.

The guards of Orinthia are dressed in extravagant gold-plated armor. They protect the marble walls of Orinthia. A gaudy show of wealth and superiority for any caravan or delegation and spread the word of Orinthia’s wealth. But it is all a façade. The Orinthian guards are the only members of Orinthia’s army equipped with armor. If you take a peek behind the marble walls, you’d find a dying empire. One which once knew conquest and plunder but whose power and influence have long since retreated behind its great walls.

“Surely, you must have seen the fire and smoke coming from the valley,” I argued.

“We hath not, and I’d say you Valley tribes best come up with a better lie to tell noblemen.”

“Go back to the valley, whence ye belong.” Chimed the fellow guard.

“There is no valley to go back to,” I replied.

Noblemen, just because they come from the aristocracy doesn’t mean they’re noble.

The Orinthians once ruled over the Valley, but we nomads combined forces and drove them out. So, it is understandable that these men may still hold some hostilities, but these men never saw the war. They’re far too young; in fact, they don’t look like they’ve seen any war by the look of them.

My grandfather approached me from behind.

“Stop.” The guard commanded my grandfather as if he were a dog.

“Hello, Grandfather, I was just having a nice conversation with these very noble men.”

“Hello, gentlemen,” My grandfather beamed.

My grandfather grabbed my forearm to tell me to stop. He probably should have taken the lead on this envoy.

“I’m sorry to bring you such troubling news, I’m sure it sounds quite fantastic, but I assure you, what my grandson told you is the truth. Me and my people need your help.” My grandfather continued as he gestured toward our caravan. Most of them are sitting or lying down, as we have been walking, or running, for the better part of the week. Our group is made up of many different people. Only a few of our townspeople survived the journey with us, and we haven’t had the time to find out where everyone else came from. Most of them, half-burnt, had just started traveling with us. I doubt they knew where they were going, or even if they knew they were still alive.

“Fantastic? There has not been a written record of dragons for almost a thousand years. I’d sayeth that your story is nothing, but a lark, a lie to weasel your way into our glorious city.” The guard sneered.

“I understand. I overheard you say there were others. Where did they go?

“To Gable Forest.” The Fellow Guard pointed to a forest-covered mountain far in the distance.

The first guard spit at what is left of my shoes. “Chazzie bastards.” He said.

Chazzie? I’ll show him Chazzie. My grandfather put his arm out to stop me. His arm extended past his tattered sleeve showing the tattoo on his forearm. The guards spotted it. Damn.

“Ah, we’ve got a war criminal on our hands.” The Guard spat, “I should relieve you of your head and burn your gypsy band just for entering our land, but that seems beneath a man of my prestige, so I’ll give you and thine rotten lot an hour to be to Gable Forest.”

“We’ll be on our way, thank you.” Grandfather bowed.

He gripped my arm and led me back to the group.

“We can’t let him treat us like that,” I whispered.

“We don’t have a choice, we are on their land, and if more of our people live, we must find them.” My grandfather argued.

Our angry faces told the group all they needed to know.

“Rich assholes.” Ryuk chimed.

Ryuk is one of our village people. Her home village was burned to the ground by Orinthian soldiers after her village removed the Orinthian Flag from the town center. They displayed the banner of the Valley Coalition Forces in its place. The VCF flag was a symbol of resistance to Orinthian rule by our people. Still, to the Orinthians, it symbolized the brutality our fighters showed their forces as we pushed them from our lands. The flag showed two spears crossed over a v shape, meant to represent the defense of the valley. The same symbol tattooed was tattooed on all VCF fighters. It is on my grandfather’s forearm.

Ryuk’s grandfather and mine fought together in the Orinthian war. She also has the VCF symbol tattooed on her forearm, but she did it herself decades after the war was over. She is the only friend I have left in this world, and if it weren’t for the dragons, we probably would have been wed within the year. My grandfather finally spoke, “We have to keep moving.”

“We’re going to die out here!” Cried one of the burnt unknowns. Those might have been the first words I heard him say.

“We are not going to die; there are other survivors from the valley. We need to find them. Together we will be safer.” My grandfather lied.

“Safe? We weren’t safe when we numbered in the hundreds of thousands. How many are we now, thirty?” Cried another nameless soul.

“I say, we force our way into the city and kill any Orinthian who tries to stop us.”

Some of the people in our caravan clapped in agreement.

“That would be a death sentence. There is only a handful of us, and who knows how many of them.” Answered my grandfather.

“They outnumbered us in the war, and look how that turned out.”

“That was in our own forests, not in their city streets. I know it seems bleak, but our people have endured worse, and we will endure this.”

I’ll give my grandfather this; his lies are convincing.

We started toward the forest; it looked like it was only an hour or so walking. The Orinthians’ influence had contracted so much that even this close forest couldn’t be considered a part of their domain. I hadn’t noticed my feet hurting for a few days now, but after getting so close to rest, they are throbbing worse than they ever had before.

When we arrived at Gable Forest, half of our caravan collapsed under its shadow. It was the first forest we’ve seen since ours were burned to the ground. To us, the forest felt like home. Now, under the cool shadow, I can feel my sunburned skin. I collapsed too.

“We can’t stop here. Get up.” My grandfather commanded.

I strained hard to pull myself back up.

“If you are going to be their leader, you need to act like one. They will look to you, and if they see you stop, they will stop. He lectured.

“Who says I’m their leader?” I asked.

“They’ve been following us for weeks now. Sometimes it’s not up to the leader when to lead.”

I looked out at my new tribe, and I-

“Alright, everyone, we’ve got to keep moving. Get up.” Called Ryuk.

She walked around and pulled people up one by one.

“The day is not done yet.” She continued.

“Who goes there.” Called a voice from within the forest.

The few standing took defensive positions as if snapped back to reality.

“We’re the tribes of the valley!” Answered Ryuk.

A child emerged from the forest, no older than fourteen. “We too are tribes of the valley.” He said.

Just then, more people emerged from the shadows, hundreds of them. The rest of our people stood up and raced toward their people. They all embraced one another as if seeing a loved one. These people were strangers but were familiar enough.

My grandfather sighed in relief and said, “as long as we live, the valley lives.” An old VCF saying.

The crowd formed around Ryuk as she spoke. The crowd began to cheer, so I could not hear what she said. I pushed myself through the crowd to listen.

“They spit at us in our hour of need, and we’re just supposed to lie down and take it?” asked Ryuk.

“NO!” replied the crowd.

“No, and we won’t. The people of the valley have shown if we work together, we can conquer anyone.”

She held up her tattooed wrist.

“This was the symbol of our grandfathers used to show their supremacy over the Orinthians as we beat them into the dirt,” she continued, “and this will be the last thing the Orinthians see as we cut them down. We will leave nothing for the dragons to burn.”

“No!” Cried my grandfather, “they are our enemies no longer. We won that war, and now we fight a new war against the dragons, and we will need everyone’s help if we wish to defeat them.”

“Those golden-plated cowards at the gate still see us as their enemy, do they not?” asked Ryuk, “They took one peak of that tattoo of yours and sent us away. To them, the war continues, well, I too have that tattoo, and for me, the war still rages.”

“I earned this tattoo by taking another man’s life. It signified to our own people that we would protect them. You and your generation have perverted its meaning, and you do not deserve to have it.” Seethed my grandfather.

“Does your grandfather speak for you, Keo?” Ryuk asked.

“No.” I replied, “I saw their hate. The war lives on.”

Ryuk smirked.

“Keo, no, do not make the same mistake I did.” Pleaded my grandfather. “You must lead with compassion.”

“I am not a leader,” I answered.

“Gather your arms. We will strike the imperialists down, once and for all.” Said Ryuk.

The crowd cheered together and began to mobilize, but one person screamed. The charred villager was staring back toward Orinthia. One by one, we looked back to the walled city. The dragons were back.

Three dragons strafed the city with streams of fire as they flew overhead. We could hear the screams and the sound of flames engulfing a city.

“Well, we can’t let the dragons have all the fun,” Ryuk said, breaking the silence. “Who’s with me?”

The stunned crowd backed away from Ryuk and the forest line. Three armed men stepped forward to meet Ryuk.

“At least you aren’t all cowards.” Ryuk spat.

The marble walls of the city fell over, like a prop in a play. Nothing but a façade hiding a decaying city. The four of them hurried toward the crumbling city. I started toward them, but my grandfather pulled me in close, “they need our help.” He said.

“Ryuk?” I asked.

“The Orinthians, Keo.” He answered.

“How can you forgive them for what they did to us?”

“Do not fault the people for what its government did. The people getting burned alive had nothing to do with that war.”

“Those guards at the gate had nothing to do with that war either, and left us dead. Why show them compassion?”

“That is all I have left to give. That is all any of us have left.” He said. “Now grab your spear and your sword; you’re coming with me.”

Every bone and muscle fiber burned as we ran back toward the city, and every instinct told me to run in the opposite direction. Still, we continued toward the city despite my body’s best efforts. As we got closer to the city, we began to see Orinthians running away. Mothers holding babies. Families, children. I recognize the look on their faces. The same ones we all had when the dragons came for us.

“Go, run toward Gable Forest!” My grandfather repeated to every fleeing Orinthian.

We got back to the bridge we stood on only hours ago, a bridge that now leads to a ruined city. We entered the city, finally. The houses were burning. People meandered around the streets, still in shock. I saw a small group of Orinthians lost in the city that now looks alien to them. I grabbed one. “Go toward Gable Forest,” I said. “That way.” I pointed toward the bridge, and they began to run toward it. We would repeat this to every command, who knows how many more times.

I felt the heat of the fire singing the hairs on my arm and on my head. We were coming upon fewer and fewer survivors. It’s time to turn back, we can’t go any further, but that thought was pushed down as I continued behind my grandfather.

We looked down the next street to find two familiar faces helping a large group find their way out. The guards from the bridge, but now they weren’t in their golden armor. I’m sure they would have been cooked alive if they had kept them on.

“Let’s go, Let’s go.” They repeated.

“The bridge is that way.” My grandfather called out.

“Thank you.” Said the fellow guard.

“I think we should go with them,” I told my grandfather.

“I agree.” He said.

The group of us started toward the bridge when a dragon landed in our path. I have never seen one this close before. It towered above us, even on all four of its legs. Its wings reached well across the street and over the burning homes. The fires did nothing to the dragon but reflected light on its obsidian scales, making it glow a fiery red.

The guards fixed their shields and pointed their spears as if to form a two-man phalanx. The dragon lowered its head to meet our height. It opened its mouth and took a deep breath in as the flames within its belly ignited. The Orinthians cowered behind the guards, and I stood and nearly accepted my fate when my grandfather threw his spear as hard as he could into the mouth of the dragon. It pierced the back of the dragon’s throat as it let out a deafening cry. It turned its body and swung its tail into the burning buildings, sending flaming debris toward us. The guards’ shields protected them and their people from the attack. “Drive!” My grandfather commanded. The Orinthian guards charged with their spears into the now exposed belly of the dragon. They stuck it only barely, as the dragon swiped one of its arms down to break the spears. The points are still stuck in its belly. The beast stagged back and fell onto a burning building, collapsing it.

The Orinthian guards pulled out small daggers and trembled as they held them out toward the beast. “Go, get your people to safety.” My grandfather said. “They’ll need you.”

“Grandfather.” I called out.

“Take them to the others, Keo.” He replied.

“I won’t leave you here.”

“It won’t matter.” He lifted his robe to show several large shards of wood sticking out of his body. “My fighting days are done, but yours are just beginning.” The dragon grunted as it started to push itself up. My grandfather grabbed me one last time and said, “remember Keo, every life is worth saving, now go.” We hurried away, but I turned around one last time to see my grandfather, the last of my family. To catch his final charge into battle.

As we approached the forest, the guard finally spoke. “I don’t know how to thank you.” He said, the look of battle now needled onto his face. “You showed us more compassion than we showed you. Why?”

“Not me, him, the war criminal,” I replied.

“I am sorry.”

“Yeah,” I said, holding back my tears.

“My name is Holder, and this is Sev.” Pointing to his fellow guard.

“Great.”

“Yer name is Keo?” Asked Sev.

“Yup.”

“What twas your grandfather’s name?” Asked Holder.

“Cirrus.”

“I think I’ll name my first son, Cirrus.” Said Sev.

“Cirrus the Orinthian Butcher.”

“Well, I shouldn’t decide on a name just yet, I suppose.” Replied Sev.

A scream came from inside the forest, “Ryuk!” I yelled. God, please don’t let me lose her too. We ran toward our encampment. Once there… Once there, I saw Ryuk cut down a woman and her child. Several Orinthians lay slain around her and her band.

“Ryuk, what are you doing?” I called out.

“I should be asking you the same thing. You travel with Orinthians now, Keo?”

“They are refugees just like us.”

“No, they’re not like us, Keo. Only a traitor would think that.”

“I am not a traitor, Ryuk. These people did nothing to us.”

“Including those two.” She pointed at Holder and Sev, and said, “They left us to die. Step aside, Keo; I’ll do what you cannot.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Then you are indeed a traitor.”

“My grandfather gave his life to save these people.”

“Then he was a traitor too.”

She set her feet in an attack stance, and I set mine in a defensive one. A roar from the dragons came from behind the tree line. Almost everyone screamed, and our tribespeople fled. Ryuk took one last look at me and ran with them. I stared until I saw she was truly gone.

“Quick, come with me,” I commanded the Orinthians. We took off, making sure to stay clear of Ryuk’s trail as we fled.

The mighty Orinthian empire fell from the attack of three dragons, and I, a Chazar, is leading what remains of their people. With that sort of shock, I cannot break the news to them that the dragons number in the thousands. We’re going to need more help.