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The Dying Breath of Dragons

Chapter 1 of a Fantasy Epic

By Tyler C ClarkPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 11 min read
1
The Dying Breath of Dragons
Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," Old Man Yuri said. Yuri was a grey-haired dwarf. Every s-word he spoke made a whistle through the gap in his teeth. "Before they showed up, we held back the armies of the dead best we could on our own. Turns out fire-spittin' lizards are handy when you're fightin' the undead."

"How did you survive the Hoard attack? Weren't all the watchmen overrun at the city walls?" replied Wesley.

Old Man Yuri was Wesley's partner in the City Watch. It was common practice to partner an experienced watchman with a rookie, but Old Man Yuri was more than just experienced. He was ancient. Despite his initial disappointment at being paired off with the oldest person to ever serve on the City Watch as his first partner, it didn't take long for Wesley to realize he had a lot to learn from the old timer. Besides, Old Man Yuri had the best stories.

"Right you are, son," Yuri spat. "I was with the pikemen. When the Hoard broke through the city gates, they fell on our pikes—thousands of the living dead. They didn't seem to care about fallin' on our blades. They just kept comin'. Before long we got trampled by them. We were like pebbles in a river. I only survived because my partner died and fell on me and I was pinned down. He was twice my size, and I couldn't get out from under him."

"I guess it doesn't always pay to be big 'n' tall."

Yuri cackled and reached up to punch Wesley in the arm.

"A little convenient they showed up when they did," Wesley said.

"Yep. Right in the nick of time. Two score and eight years ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. They landed on the city walls and burned away the Hoard while we fought off the last of them that made it into the city. I'd never seen a dragon before that day. Just about crapped my—"

"Why didn't the dragons show up sooner? Why'd they wait until the walls were breached?"

"Hmph. I suppose that's a fair question. I just assumed they got here as soon as they could, but maybe it ain't that simple. What's on your mind, son?"

"What if they waited until they knew we were desperate? If they'd headed off the Hoard farther up the valley, before the Hoard ever even crossed our borders, they wouldn't be hailed as our saviors. There'd always be people to doubt whether or not we could have taken on the Hoard ourselves."

"That's a lot more conniving than most people give the dragons credit for. I'd keep those thoughts to yerself, if I was you. No one wants to sully the name of a hero."

"Sorry. Sometimes I ask too many questions."

"No, that's good. It means you don't take nothin' for granted. That's important for a watchman. What am I always tellin' you?"

"Never grab a dwarf by the beard?"

"No, the other thing."

"Never trust an elf to order your drink?"

"No, damnit. The other thing."

"Don't make assumptions."

"That's right. When you think you know everything, that's when you start to make mistakes."

They continued their patrol, touring one of the upper districts of Snowstair. Yuri regaled Wesley with countless stories, as usual. Flakes of snow drifted lazily from the overcast sky, melting in contact with the ground. Set on a great slope that traveled from Highgrove all the way down to West Gate at the edge of the city, Snowstair was one of the largest boroughs in the Great City of Domatov. Halfway down Heather's Walk, the main thoroughfare in Snowstair where many high-end fabric markets and tailors set up shop, they heard a commotion.

"Help!" someone shouted nearby. "Thief!" Wesley turned to see a shadowy figure fleeing down a side street. Wesley wasted no time, and took off after him.

Wesley chased the man in a black cloak around one bend, then another. Wesley blew his watchman whistle and shouted, "Stop!" Unsurprisingly, they kept running.

The cloaked man pulled a pile of crates down behind him. Wesley vaulted over them. The cloaked man was fast, and he wasn't weighed down by a watchman's mail uniform. Wesley was in good shape, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. Sweat trickled down his back and a cramp burned in his side.

"Stop, I said!" Wesley tried again, but he could hear the exhaustion in his own voice.

The cloaked man promptly fell flat on his face, tumbling to a stop at the base of a pile of refuse. Someone had stuck a shovel out in front of his feet from around a corner.

Out of the shadows emerged Yuri looking very pleased with himself. "You need to learn how to not work so hard, son."

The thief moaned and sat up, but Yuri shoved him back down with the end of the shovel. Wesley got a good look at the perpetrator. He was just a kid.

"Yuri, how," Wesley gasped. "How did you—"

"How did I know where to cut him off? By the looks of him, this is one of the Rat King's boys. They got a safehouse over yonder. Figured that's where he was headed." Yuri prodded the boy in the black cloak. "What'd you steal, son?"

"Nothing!"

"You know who I am, boy. This here's my partner. You can talk freely around him."

The boy looked from Yuri to Wesley, then back. In a masterful feat of sleight of hand, a diamond ring appeared in the boy's hand. Yuri took the diamond ring and looked at it closely. Then, to Wesley's amazement, Yuri gave it back.

"Rat King stockin' up on diamonds?" Yuri asked.

The boy nodded.

"Alright, then. Off you go."

The boy scrambled to his feet and took off down the alley.

"Yuri, what—?" Wesley asked.

"He's just a kid. No harm done."

"I'm not stupid, Yuri. Why did you just let a pickpocket loose with stolen goods?"

Yuri looked Wesley dead in the eye. "I can't explain that right now, partner. I'm askin' you to trust me on this one. Can you do that?"

"I could report you for this."

"Yep, you could. In fact, you're obligated to. I'm just askin', one partner to another, that you don't."

Wesley looked up and down the dirty alley. He rested his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. He thought for a long minute. If nothing else, Wesley appreciated that Yuri didn't rush him to make a decision. Wesley had known Yuri for almost a year now, and he's the only partner Wesley had since graduating from watchman training. Yuri had shocked Wesley at first with his sometimes brash disregard for regulations and rules. But the longer they were partners, Wesley grew to understand Yuri as a person with an impeccable moral code. Authority or obedience weren't as important to Yuri as justice and mercy. Since Yuri didn't exactly flaunt his ideals out in the open, most people didn't realize how good of a person he was.

As Wesley mulled things over, he thought about his own secrets. There were things he wished he could tell his partner. Everyone has secrets, and if the tables were turned, he would rather be trusted than treated like a suspect.

"I have one condition," Wesley said.

"What's that?"

"I won't report you as long as you promise me that there's a really good reason for me not to."

Yuri let out an explosive laugh.

"I'm serious."

"Interesting," Yuri said with a glint in his eye. "Alright, I promise. There's a really good reason."

"Good. I'm trusting you," Wesley said. "Let's get back to our beat."

"Aye-aye, partner!"

"Knock it off, Yuri," Wesley laughed.

#

In the skies above Dormotov, the occasional dragon could be seen soaring overhead. This had been the norm in the valley for the past fifty years since the Hoard, an army of the undead, began invading from the West.

The rest of their patrol passed without incident. By the evening, snow gathered in small patches on street corners and window sills. Wesley and Yuri checked in at their precinct before the end of their shift.

"Nothing to report today," Yuri told the record keeper, then winked at Wesley.

They stepped outside once they'd changed out of their uniforms and back into civilian clothes.

"Care for a drink, son?" Yuri asked. His breath fogged the air.

"Thanks, but I gotta get home."

"Take care, partner. See you tomorrow. Oh, and uh... thanks. You're a good man, Wesley," Yuri pulled a wool cap onto his head and shuffled off into the night, probably towards the nearest pub, Wesley assumed. But he checked himself.

"Don't make assumptions," he muttered. What else would Yuri be up to every night? Could he have a secret life no one else knew about? Wesley chuckled at the thought of Yuri moonlighting as a burlesque dancer or a bar maid. Everyone wears many hats interchangeably. A butcher might shed the shopkeeper persona along with his apron at the end of the workday. A butler drops his façade of propriety and puts on one of familiarity when talking to his coworkers. Everyone changes face depending on the situation, but for Wesley, this was far more literal.

Wesley walked home under a darkening sky. As he outpaced the lamplighters and parted from the crowd of workers returning home down the main thoroughfares, aspects of his physical form began to subtly change. He grew shorter, less muscular. His hair changed from a short-cropped black to a long, sandy blonde. His hips widened, and breasts developed on his chest.

By the time he arrived home in Baker's Hook, a small corner of the city in West Gate, he had become a she. Wesley became Wendy, stepping into the persona like a familiar coat. Wesley/Wendy was a Shifter.

Wendy always felt the need to change before arriving home so as to not alarm her father. Most people didn't understand Shifters. Keeping the illusion of permanence intact for the people she cared about by not changing her form around them made things easier, in a way, but she wished she didn't feel like she had to hide what she was all the time. Especially around family. She wanted to keep the peace, but other people's misconceptions and fears were heavy burdens to carry. She kept her true nature a secret from the world.

Wendy entered the house quietly. She shut the door behind her and stuffed an old blanket back in its place along the bottom of the door to better insulate it from the cold.

Her father stirred in his chair by the stove. "Wendy?"

"It's just me, Pa."

"Oh. How was your day?"

"Good," she said, giving her father a kiss on the cheek—something she wouldn't be able to do as Wesley. "I chased down a pickpocket today."

"Did you now?" her father laughed. "Sounds dangerous."

"It was! I caught him, but we decided to let him go this time."

"Listen, Wendy. You're staying safe out there, aren't you?"

"Pa," Wendy said, annoyed. "Would you be asking me that if I were Wesley right now?"

"Don't do that. I'm just a concerned father, okay?"

"You sure you're not being overprotective because I happen to look like a helpless damsel around you?"

"No, I—ugh," Her father stammered. "I'm allowed to worry about my kid, okay? It doesn't have to be about your," he waved his hand around, looking for the right word.

"Gender?"

"Right."

"I can handle myself, okay? Need I remind you that I graduated top of my class in watchman training?"

"How can I forget?" he laughed. "You won't shut up about it."

Wendy gave her father a punch in the arm.

"I better hit the sack," her father said. "I have large order to fill in the morning."

"Night, Pa," Wendy said. "Let me know if you ever need extra help at the bakery. I could always take a day off on watch. I'm sure Yuri would understand."

"Oh, right. Does your partner know that you're, uh, different?"

"That I'm a Shifter, you mean? You can say it, Pa. It's not a dirty word."

"I know, but, you know. Does he know?"

"No, I haven't said anything."

"Okay, good. I mean, I'm not trying to tell you what to do either way, but I think that's smart."

"I know, Pa."

"Well, goodnight."

Wendy stayed up late tending the fire in the wood-burning furnace to ward off the cold.

##

Adventure
1

About the Creator

Tyler C Clark

I'm a poet who discovered a love for fiction. This seems like a good place to stretch my legs.

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