The Dragon Throne Chronicles

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Until now.

The world is known as “Sakeros” from the ancient scholars of Ur. A world fertile with magic and rife with civil wars tearing at the very soul of the populace. The city of Xorax is suffering from these wars and the populace has dwindled along with their morale. In the eyes of a local Xoraxian, hope is but a fleeting dream. One that they may never awake from. The grip of fear and despair was tightening around the city like a morning fog.

The fear fog was getting thicker, becoming tangible and real, a coppery taste in the air like dried blood. The populace was on edge, something they could not vocalise or describe in words, but it was there and was real.

The Dragons had returned, unbeknownst to the city. All dragons exude a pheromone to cause their foes to feel terrified and become subversive, unwilling, and unable to fight back. This is described as “dragon-fear” and only the bravest and most steadfast of knights could overcome this fear and stand toe-to-toe with a dragon.

The city could use some good knights right about now….

Valley of Dawning Dreams

City of Xorax

Slums quarter.

The woman they called Maylene screamed so loud, one of her vocal cords burst. This was the longest and most agonizing of pregnancy's she had ever experienced. It felt as though her womb were literally on fire. Maylene had already given birth to two children to different fathers, and this, her third child, was the most unusual.

Maylene had a visceral dream where she was a spectacular dragon queen. A majestic being that all other dragons worshipped and bowed to her magnificence. An equally handsome and respected dragon lord, name Ember, had courted her. Eventually, after the long courtship, the two fell deeply in love and would ravish each other nightly. This dream would be experienced by Maylene several times over.

A month later Maylene discovered she was with child.

Now was the time of birth, the baby was coming, and she had no clue of the identity of the infant’s father. The dragon from her dreams? As far as she knew, there were no dragons in existence anymore, anywhere, especially this peaceful valley and besides, it had only been a dream. Hadn't it?

More fire in her womb, like someone had poured burning oil into her nether regions.

"Push again! I can see its head!!" exclaimed the midwife, an overweight looking woman in her forties that had been witness to countless births.

More Screaming. More fire. Suddenly the baby was out, caught mid push by the Midwife and then the most unexpected of things happened. Maylene spontaneously combusted, bursting into flames, her whole body consumed. Dead in an eternally agonizing instant. The midwives screamed, running from the room with baby in hand, only to realize the umbilical cord was still attached to the corpse of his mother, and the fire was spreading up its length, coursing up towards the baby boy.

"CUT THE CORD!! CUT IT!!" screamed the midwife as another dived for the taught piece of flesh with scalpel in hand, slicing through just as the fire reached it, causing the midwife to stumble, backpedal and flee the room with the baby. The midwife who cut the cord was not so fortunate, the fire, almost with a life of its own spiralled towards her, engulfing her also in flames. In a screaming panic, she leapt through one of the windows but was dead before the fireball had hit the street two storeys below.

At this point in time the room was well alight, the whole house engulfed in flames. People would say they had never witnessed fire burn hotter or brighter, and strangely, it did not spread to the neighbouring houses.

The midwife continued to clutch the baby to her chest running as though the Demon Lord himself was chasing her, all the way to the local Church of the Dawning Sun. She unceremoniously handed the naked, crying infant to the stunned priest who greeted her and then kept running. Never to be seen or heard from again.

The Priest, a middle-aged acolyte by the name of Daydon Cuthbrow, looked at the baby with astonishment. As Daydon cradled the boy and was overcome with a wave of sorrow for the abandoned child. In that second of sorrow, Daydon decided he would adopt the baby.

Daydon named the child “Burdock”, after the famous pope of Luse. Burdock was raised by Daydon, the other priests and the nuns at the Church of Dawning Sun.

A happy baby, Daydon would often call him his "Little Lightbringer” and would often be referred to as "Little Lord".

Burdock was the light that he had been dumped into the Church workers lives, had given they were unable to have children of their own, they believed in destiny and would have it no other way.

For all intents and purposes, Burdock was a normal, healthy male human child, only with the most peculiar birth mark on his inner right thigh. A strange shape indeed.

If one were to look closely, it appeared in the shape of a head.

A dragons head.

_________

Forest of Willowtree Glade

Eighteen years later...

The deer ran for its life, as though the forest were aflame.

Cursing silently to herself for not being stealthy enough, Serasong continued her pursuit through the trees above, lithely flitting from one branch to the next like a honeysuckle twitterer.

The deer's eyes were wild, and its breath came in short, gasping breaths.

Serasong picked up speed, getting in front of the deer and spun, smoothly drawing her bow. The forest around her warped and melded, as her breathing slowed, a melodic tune playing in her head, one that her mother used to hum to her as a babe, the blood flowed.

Becoming one with the forest, the young wood elf saw the deer, felt its heart beating widely and her own pulse quickened. All around, the forest sounds and smells assaulted her as might a spicy stew, taking it all in, a wondrous sense of joy so profound, causing tears to fall easily from her eyes as she released the arrow.

The arrow flew straight and true, piecing the deer's heart cleanly, severing it and dropping the deer dead instantly. An honourable kill.

Alighting to the forest floor, moving quickly, she arrived at the carcass and suddenly sensed that she was not alone. At that moment, several more apparitions appeared around her from the foliage, as though ghosts from a dream. Three male wood elves.

"Serasong, ere asa moneeth!" An older male wood elf addressed her in the language of the elves.

"<What, brother? What's wrong?>*" Fear crept into her eyes, a sense of terrible foreboding.

"<It is mother, isn't it?> Serasong knew by the look in the male wood elf’s eyes, the sense of dread rising in the pit of her stomach. Without any further words, she ran, back towards their Capital of Silverfen. Running as fast as the wind would take her.

The remaining elves picked up the deer carcass, not to waste a successful hunt and began the trek back to the village, albeit at a slower pace.

Serasong ran, faster and faster, her feet barely touching the forest floor, but she knew in her heart that no matter how fast she ran....

...it would not be fast enough.

*Translated from Elvish

Silverfen, Royal Acorn Quarter.

Serasong ran all the way to her acorn like villa, where her mother lay, almost one again with nature. Lying in a special “Eternal Leaf”, where the spirits of the forest, it’s vines entwining her and becoming one with her. She was not too late though, some life remained with her mother, albeit only as a weak flame of a candle, about to be blown out from the shutting of a door.

“Gracey, you’re here. *cough* Serasong’s mother coughed weakly,

“Ma..” the word caught in her throat, which had suddenly become dry and she felt that she could drink a lakes worth of water to no avail.

“Gracey, I need to give you something before I become one with the forest. The Forest that has given me such love and friendship, joy and beauty over my two hundred and fifty-three years. The forest, that presented me with this and the knowledge of when and whom to pass it on to.”

Serasong’s Mother, Jayling Tierel, held a clenched hand, indicating for Serasong to do the same.

Serasong, whose tears choked back any words, held out her hand expectantly, faint curiosity washing over her, giving her a moments respite from the intense grief.

It was a struggle for Jayling to even open her hand, to the point where Serasong needed to assist her. From her mother’s hand an object dropped, small and hard and round.

Serasong brought her hand away from her mothers, to see what was given to her.

A ring. A beautiful, exquisitely carved golden ring.

Serasong stared at the ring in the palm of her hand, so small, so insignificant, but something that had obviously meant a great deal to her mother. Yet, for something so valued and prized, why only now, on her Eternal-leaf did her mother reveal it?

So enraptured by the ring, so drawn in, Serasong almost didn't notice her mother rasping more words that could very well be her last. Serasong wanted to cherish every word her mother had to say.

“Gracey, the prophecy falls to you now…. the destiny that was written from the time you were birthed. What you have there is a Ring of Joining. There were…. two….*cough*….*gak*” Jayling sputtered.

Her mother was wracked with huge, heaving coughs. Blood, bile, and something unrecognizable was coughed up and the attendants quickly did their best to clean her and feed her some honey-berry nectar to ease her throat. Whilst they were attempting to make Jayling more comfortable, Serasong sank to her knees beside the Eternal- leaf, un-shouldering her bow. Keeping a firm grip of the ring in one hand she put the other on her mother’s thigh, attempting to reassure her. Tears flowed freely down Serasongs face and she at that moment never thought she would feel anything but despair and grief again.

‘Ma…please…let them heal you, you will be alright, fight it, you will be well again, you will see.”

Serasong’s mother took a few steadying breaths and a couple of tentative coughs before continuing.

“There are two rings. You need to find the bearer of the second ring. Only then can your destiny be fulfilled. There is a shadow on the horizon, one that has haunted my waking dreams, it is there, oppressive and looming, wanting to consume the whole of the world for its souls” Jayling said in a half whisper her voice was shaky and weak.

“Kraxxias…” Serasong breathed, she too had heard the rumours and stories of his so called “Dark Portals” being sighted.

“Yes, that is the demon’s name that haunts me, you must be ready! Leave this place, at once, and seek out the bearer of the second ring, you will both be drawn …. together….it is foretold.”

Serasong said shaking her head stubbornly: “Don’t worry about that now mother, you need to rest and get better” She could not accept this was the end of her mother’s days on the planet.

In a move that surprised Serasong with its speed, her mother grabbed hold of Serasongs arm and half sat up, giving her a look of fierce determination, mixed with frustration and anger.

“NO! Listen to me now… you must. Go….find the other….save yourself…save everyone” Jayling collapsed back to the Eternal-leaf, spent.

“You must find the second ring, save …”

At that moment, her whole body arched in a spasm and rocked the leaf, the tendrils grew thick entering Jayling’s mouth and eyes.

‘Ma, NO!” Serasong screamed, and then began crying in earnest, her body wracked with deep guttural sobs.

At that point, Gracelin’s mother was no more, now, a part of the forest whence she came.

Serasong sat by the Eternal Leaf-bed, which was now covered in vines, but her mother gone.

Time passed and Serasong became aware that she was now alone in the room. The others left at some point, yet now she had no more tears. Getting to her feet, emotionally drained, she noticed that her right hand was still clenched. She opened her hand cautiously and realised an object lay there. Something that in her grief she had all but forgotten. Her mother’s wishes came flooding back with fresh tears.

It was the Ring of Joining.

_________

City of Xorax

Priest Quarter

8:22am, Mid-week.

Burdock sat at the modest dining room table breathing in the aroma of freshly cooked, scrambled, quail eggs that Brother Daydon had just prepared. There was also bread toasted warm, with generous slather of fresh butter. Burdock had to quickly catch himself as drool threatened to escape his mouth, his tastebuds unable to wait to sample the scrumptious breakfast that had been placed before him.

"Brother Daydon, you spoil me with this kind of cooking” Burdock said enthusiastically.

"If you keep this up, you know I am going to expect this every morning" Burdock added with a lopsided grin.

Burdock leaned back and stretched, his muscles aching from Brother Daydo’s morning lessons, teaching him not only the intricacies of the Church, but also the martial abilities of the legendary fighting monks. Not that Burdock would even think to compare himself to a Fighting Monk, they were fabled. However, as his toning body and aching muscles proved, he was at least giving it a go.

Burdock flicked his head, an annoying brown lock of thick hair forever dropping down over his forehead obscuring his vision, then leaned forward, grabbing the laid-out utensils, about to dig into the fine-looking meal. That was when the loud pounding, so not really a knock, came at the door.

In this quarter of the city, most doors were left unlocked, something about honesty and not living like a caged animal, and in this instance, Brother Daydon was no exception. After about the third pound, the door was slammed opened creating an ominous “boom”.

Burdock couldn't see who was at the door, given he was sitting in the kitchen in another room, and out of eyesight, but he did see Brother Daydon walking towards it hurriedly. This image sparked a feeling of dread that rose in the pit of Burdock's stomach like a lump of coal, cold and harsh and bitter.

Burdock could hear raised voices but strained to make out actual words.

"He's not here! I have told you already he is not the one! Now Leave!" Brother Daydon said with a hint of urgency in his normally composed voice.

There came a muffled, unrecognizable male response.

At that moment, while Burdock had a forkful of egg and toast halfway to his mouth, Brother Daydon went flying. Burdock saw Daydon’s body fly past the doorway that he had just walked by, causing a tremendous crash, most likely colliding with the antique side-stand, full of books.

Burdock dropped his fork and scrambled to his feet, just as two burly males, both with shock green hair, appeared at the kitchen entryway. Burdock had completed and his studies and these appeared to be the race of Elves. But what were they doing here? In his house? Interrupting his delicious looking breakfast? The nerve of them!

"Listen guys, I'm not sure if Brother Daydon has made enough eggs to go around, but seeing as you have rudely interrupted my meal, I would ask that you leave now and perhaps come back this afternoon when I am finished and ready to see you." Burdock said with an air of sarcasm and a boyish smile

The two male Elves merely grunted and raised hand crossbows that were aimed directly at Burdock.

Burdock's eyes widened, as he threw himself backwards, arching his back just as the bolts were set loose. One of the bolts nicked his chin, as he fell. Strangely though no blood was drawn, the bolts were blunted, and, confusingly, sticky?

Hitting the floor, with his chin starting to sting from the bolt, a cold sense of dread struck him. Contact Poison! Burdock grabbed one of the chairs and hurled it in the direction of the two males. Since it was an aimless throw, merely meant to buy time and put off their next shot, Burdock grabbed another chair and started snapping the legs off it.

Burdock could feel his vision dimming as the poison entered his system through the skin, dulling his senses.

The Elves were on the move, speaking to each other in some form of musical tongue that could only be Elfish.

"You have to come with us, Burdock Lightbringer, warrior priest. You have a purpose to fulfil". As he knocked another bolt into the crossbow.

"Oh, yeah? Well, my only purpose right now is knocking you two out…ss.ss..seeing if my friend is alive and, well, urrr…!" Burdock sputtered; he had begun to feel very nauseated.

The second elf, who so far had remained silent, drew a short sword, and charged Burdock who still lay sprawled behind the kitchen table.

The short sword came down towards Burdock at tremendous speed. Burdock only just managed to raise the broken chair, now a makeshift shield between the sword and his throat. Responding to the attack, Burdock used the shield to slap and slam down on the Elves sword hand, the second hit knocking it out of his grasp completely.

Burdock brought his leg around behind the Elf, sweeping him off his feet and knocking him to the ground. With another smash with the makeshift shield, edge first into the Elf’s head ensured he would not be getting up again soon.

Burdock found his footing once more, barely, with the chair shield still in hand he glanced about.

"Now where did - " The remaining Elf had darted behind Burdock while his attention was diverted and now grabbed him in a slight bear hug, lifting Burdock from the ground. Burdock jerked his head backwards connecting with something soft rewarding him with a grunt from the Elf followed by a sneeze which told Burdock he head-butted the Elf’s nose, however the satisfaction of that move was short lived as the bear hug began to tighten and Burdock feared his ribs would crack. If any more pressure was applied. The Elf spun and hurled Burdock, straight through the kitchen window that overlooked the street.

Smashing through the window, glass shards spraying everything about him, Burdock landed un-ceremonially on his back. The wind was knocked from him leaving him gasping for breath like a fish taken from water.

Still conscious, Burdock attempted to regain feeling in his legs so that he could stand, when the Elf, face bloodied from what appeared to be a broken nose, stepped through the now gaping hole which was once a window and approached cautiously.

"Well, that will certainly not get you invited to afternoon tea!" Burdock said facetiously, aching from the many minor cuts and bruises.

The Elf said nothing, he came at Burdock, swiftly striking him to the temple with the hilt of his short sword.

Blackness consumed Burdock.

The last thought through Burdock's head was: "They really did look like delicious eggs...."

>TO BE CONTINUED.