The Levy of Laxordias

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. It wasn't until nineteen aught twelve that the great Sorcerer Laxordias sought to summon protection for our lands. As we watched in uneasy anticipation, he set about his ritual, cutting the air with mysterious gestures and uttering words unknown by common tongue.

As the intensity of the air bubbled to the brim with charge, there appeared a chasm down below; a burgeoning depression in the center of the Valley. As the gateway achieved critical mass, a bevy of claws rose into view, curling around the edges and taking root beyond.

And the sight that came next would not soon be forgotten. For out of the rift spilled a prismatic flood: a tandem of serpents, of disparate color, that rose forth like the Lords of all aesthetic creation.

Each found It's footing and, with mighty reflexes, sprang fully to life. With the unwrapping of their bodies came immense roars of relief; sounds that echoed and rang like thunder across the land. Freed of their prison they soared, stretching their monumental wings and appendages to the apex.

Then, one by one, they flew toward Laxordias, held by duty to their releaser. He bade us to fall back as they approached, and we cleared the way swiftly for their arrival.

As they gathered in unison around him, he stood tall and resolute, confidence unchallenged by the might of these Beasts. When all were accounted for, he spoke again. His words, though soaring almost as high as they, held no power over our intellects--at the very least, mine. For the language was of yet another tongue, driven forth by chords that perchance no mere mortal could naturally possess.

As the final words died on the air, the dragons appeared to rise at attention, and freeze solid. The Sorcerer turned toward us, and spoke. "You shall live in fear no more, my People; for I have struck a bargain with these colossal Beasts, and have gained their Might for our own. In exchange for my servitude, they will keep watch of our land and our skies, and defend it to their last breathes. All they ask is one duty of me, which I am bound now to collect." He looked over the crowd, and bowed. "We shall meet once more, my Friends."

In a flash, he was gone.

That was fifty years ago today.

As promised, the dragons kept watch of all we could not hope to attend to ourselves. Each had built its respective perch upon the fringes of the Valley in time, and thus roosted like titans of tincture against the cerulean sky. All corners of the Land had come to know of our allotment, and in doing so had pleaded our hand in union, so to speak, in hopes they too may bargain for their sanctity, should one such day come.

Still, it was all for naught. For none amongst us had the competence of tongue to bargain with the beasts, and little could claim to have the guts to approach them. While they had sworn to protect us, and had so unquestionably, there was an immutable understanding of rank that divided we species. It could be that duty was the only thing that kept the food chain at bay, and there was no doubt they knew it, too.

So Edenic life carried on. Under the watchful eyes of these stark-hued gods we toiled in our daily affairs, maintaining the intrinsic facades of our society as imbalance within remained uncontrolled without. There were discrepancies in function, no doubt, but there was no war.

As far as the people knew, the protection that had been bestowed upon us would last forever.

But I knew better.

God help me, I knew better.