The First Dragon

Chapter One

It was only mid-morning in Atlandia and the day was fiercely cold for this time of the year. The tall trees cast filtered shadow light across the visage of Harrod Zyphlarus, village wizard as he walked using his staff for support up the slope to the way station trekking methodically between the tall dying grass. His granddaughter was saddling Ryzor to ride into town, a fortnight trip lately since the harvest was poor this year. The wind wasn’t too bad she thought. The beast turned to the approaching wizard, rumbled vocally, shifted impatiently as he ambled up. “There weren’t always dragons in the valley,” the old man said as he stuffed tobac into his pipe. “Ignaz tabake yuvo,” he murmured staring intently into the bowl. The air sparked above the pipe and he puffed quick and short, then drew deeply of his special smoking mix. “The Arch King ordered a bounty on all dragons when Draconir slaughtered Brhaweir village because her eggs were stolen. The dragons all left.”

“When did they come back?” his granddaughter asked

He harrumphed and shifted uncomfortably, “They did not. It is believed that Draconir and her companions flew across the Great Sea and were slaughtered by the dragon slayers of West Island. It took One hundred and twenty-nine years to hatch her eggs.”

“We took her eggs?” she half asked and half exclaimed.

“The Terrans took her eggs but we stole them back. We wanted to give them back to Draconir but she had already destroyed Brhaweir and commanded her flock to leave for the West.” He pushed a bronze ringlet of hair away from her eyes and sighed. “The dragons used to be as big as a Kracken.”

“I am glad they aren’t that big now, I would be afraid to ride if Ryzor was any bigger.” She climbed onto Ryzor’s back and took the empty satchel from Harrod.

“Dagonians are not dragons, they need the magic of their mother to grow big.”

“I thought wizards were supposed to cast a spell for them to grow,” she teased. “Dalanie says the dragons were cursed by the One Father because they were once gods.”

“Not precisely so,” Harrod cocked an eyebrow and stroked his long gray beard, “My dear Granddaughter, that is another story.”

Lineage chronical 14,523 aeon IV

Kron had developed a new device after the war with the Demonia allowing him to go to Dagonia in the flesh and stop them from destroying the people. This is when he met and fell in love with Siranda.

The Fire God Raman, Kron’s second son, secretly sojourned to Dagonia in the flesh. It was against the law to roam the mortal world, but he felt strangely drawn to the realm of the living and had been sneaking into his father’s memory chamber to the watch the dimension since childhood. Unbeknownst to Raman his own mother Siranda was half human and half God. His father Kron had been unfaithful to his wife Lelana and visited the mortal world to see his love Siranda and she became pregnant with Raman. The ruling council of Elyzium made it law to not allow gods to visit the three-dimensional realm of Dagonia except for the King, Raman’s father Kron, whose power was needed in Dagonia to stabilize the universe from falling into chaos and the Demonia from breaking time.

Siranda’s father was human and her mother was a goddess. The Elyzium council gave Siranda’s mother the choice of sending Sirandha to a mortal existence in Dagonia or sending her to Purdon to have her pure goddess essence extracted to be born again of a god and goddess coupling. Siranda’s mother chose a mortal life for her daughter. Siranda’s mother Alyana was the goddess of beauty and love, and her mortal father was what Dagonian’s consider an irresistibly handsome man. Raman himself was a ¾ god so he did not have to be sent to Purdon or be sent to Dagonia. Since Raman was the king’s son and gifted with power over fire, Kron declared that henceforth Raman be the god of Fire and his other son Marus be the god of War. The council, having no say since his blood was more than half god had no choice but to agree.

Dania Chrisonus

Elder of Alasar

Raman entered the dimensional chamber and programmed the coordinates for Dagonia East Land. He was strangely nervous. The fire that was his burned in the tips of his fingers waiting for release. He closed his eyes as he pulled the control and the world exploded into a brilliant flash brighter than any sun in the universe. He felt squeezed but light at the same time feeling the silver strands of making pushing him into being. He heard a ringing noise and the flame in his hands crawled inside his arms and through his body and to his chest. He was three dimensional now but his body was not what he expected it to be. He had great wings on his back, legs, arms, a torso, a head, and he could walk upright like a Dagonian. He had senses. The overwhelming input confused him. He could smell, hear, feel though in a different fashion than what he could as a corporeal in Elyzium.

Over the hilly horizon he gazed at what appeared to be moving creatures that kind of looked like him. This was nothing like the memories in his father’s archive chamber. He felt pain for the first time as a straight stick suddenly plunged from the air into his arm. He remembered the word for it now – arrow. It was a strange sensation that he felt after the initial pain -his body expulsed the arrow as his skin healed over within seconds of falling to the ground. More arrows flew past his head and body as the people rushed closer.

“Demon!” he heard them shouting. He spread his wings and attempted to fly away when an arrow ripped through his wing and he couldn’t take to the air. “What is the use of wings if I can’t fly?” He thought to himself. He started running away from the crowd half folding his wings on his back. In the near distance he saw a cliff and channeled his power to his feet and nothing happened. “What is happening to me?” he said aloud this time to no one. He spread his wings as he neared the cliff and jumped. At last he was airborne, but not as graceful as he hoped. Every time he flapped his awkward wings his body bounced in the winds and he half glided, half plummeted, and half flew over a copse of dense foliage, landed unceremoniously in the middle of a U-shaped garden of plants with red oblong fruits.

He rolled over onto his back and gazed down at the red, juicy, pasty substance all over him. A woman screamed from behind him and pummeled his head with something hard.

“Hey! Stop that, that hurts!” he said. He turned to look and gasped. This was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

“Demons can’t speak. What are you?” She breathed.

“I don’t know what I am to you. I’m from Elyzium.”

She gasped, dropped to her knees, bowed her head, “Forgive me if I have offended you, great one. I am unworthy to gaze upon you.”

“I’m not royalty, and I’m definitely not great. I somehow messed up my bio profile and now I got wings.”

“Only the gods live in Elyzium, we haven’t been visited in over two aeons.” She said.

“I had some people shooting at me when I arrived and I don’t think they share your belief in me.”

“I must take you to the Elders, they will want to speak with you.” She said.

“What is your name?”

“ I am Mealindra.”

“ Raman,” he said pointing to his chest. He suddenly realized he was standing in front of her naked and the fruit was not hiding his body. Mealindra blushed and said “The gods always appear to us unclothed. Let me find you something to wear.” She led the way to a thatch roof cottage built between the thick trees and he grabbed a fern on the way to cover his groin. Once inside she rummaged through her long dead father’s clothes and tossed him pants and a lace up shirt.

“We should leave for Alasar now, before those men come for you. You have the wings of a Demonia and they may try to kill you again. I can hide them with a cloak.”

“I heal fast.”

“That is how gods are.” Mealindra bowed her head and crossed her arms on her chest reverently.

“I am not a god, I am just from another place, and different from you.”

“The Elders will tell you what you are.” She said. They both walked out of the cottage and into the brush, Mealindra pulled a stone from her pocket and whispered into it. The trees and bushes bent exposing a path for them to walk through and closed behind them hiding their journey.

In this part of the kingdom, there were no foot paths and most of the countryside folk could do simple conjuring and channel elements from the environment without a magical rune stone. Mealindra was lucky that her grandfather had been schooled in wizardry and had many magical tools at his disposal. He taught her many spells and she should be a wizard in her own right, if not for being born a girl. Magical instruments fashioned by the Waywïerman were masc by nature and difficult for women to wield. Her grandfather gave her a Terra stone when she was of age and sent her to the village mage for schooling in it’s use. She was able to use her grandfather’s tools but it took a toll on her every time and she must rest after. The trip would take a dain and they were being pursued so she did not stop to rest until well after nightfall.

Raman was clumsy with his folded wings under a cloak and inexperience moving about on legs for the first time. He enjoyed the smell of the forest and fragrant fall scents lazily hanging in the damp earthy air. His vision seemed limited in this body but he still looked around him taking in the wonderful flying creatures and furry beasts scurrying on the leaf laden floor. He wanted to touch everything and hear all that this incredible place could present him.