Ticking Dragons

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. In fact, they were the furthest thing from my mind before the Scorching. I had often heard of dragons from the extravagant stories the merchants always told. But I never took them seriously. They peddle their wares for a living, a good story is an easy way to draw a crowd. So I payed them no heed for the most part. I had better things to do.

I lived in a small mining town the farthest north of the Butter Valley. An odd name if I do say so myself but that is what everyone has always called it. Most likely due to the golden gilded trees that line the upper most parts of the mountains. So why not the Golden valley? That's a good name, but I digress. As I write this I can't help but think that it is a waste of time, who else will read this but me? My goal is to escape the valley not write a story. I am a mere coal miner. But since the destruction of my village I am unsure of where to go or what to do. I do believe I am the only survivor.

The man set down his notebook and his charcoal pencil. He sighed, for a will and testament it seemed pretty bleak. Not like it mattered much, most of his life was depressing. The coming of the dragons, while a horror to behold, actually made things more interesting. But at the moment there was nothing he would not give for a simple day of coal and sweat.

His survival had been one of happenstance. At the time he was tasked with chopping and gathering wood. The wood would have been made for new mining supports if not for the sudden attack upon his village. When the man heard the sound of destruction he turned from his work and saw what he thought to be dragons swooping down over the mountain peaks. He had a pretty good view of this because it was customary to cut wood from far up the valley's tree line, the golden trees however were not to be touched. Looking down upon the valley the man could see many shining figures fly over the very tips of the mountains and swoop down upon many of the small towns that littered the valley, including his own. What he saw terrified him, three hulking metallic figures swept up his town with an engulfing flame.

He jolted awake. He had fallen asleep consumed with his thoughts of recent events. It had been almost a week. But he was still reeling from the loss of all he knew. There were friends and some family but he had to assume they were all dead. His heart ached but he knew he would have to leave his hiding place eventually. The water, meat, and bread he had brought with him was only supposed to last a couple of days so he could gather enough timber before heading back to the mines. Of course, that all changed when the dragons attacked. In the aftermath of the attack the smell of smoke and the roar of the dragons caused the horses to bolt before they could be restrained. Any thoughts of escaping quickly were dashed.

Thinking quickly the man had grabbed everything he could and dove into the forest. Currently, he was hiding in a thicket. He had figured the dragons would look for caves to dwell in and he could not take the chance one would find him by chance. It was time to go. The food he had rationed carefully was almost gone. The best he could think of doing was to head for Hagard. The city in the center of Butter Valley. While he could see a lot from the beginning of the assault the city was far from his view at the time.

It was now night. Nothing stirred, not even a owl made so much as a hoot. The man began to make his way down the mountain. He had lived here his entire life speedily moving through the mountains was not that difficult. What was difficult and fearful was the looming threat of the dragons and he knew a wood axe would not be enough to protect him.

A roar. He stopped. Another and another. There were too many to count. It was only made worse by the eco of the valley.

Could they have heard him? Mused the man. No. The trees and rocks would have muffled his footfalls and he could tell the roars were too far away. Still frightening but far enough to continue the journey.

The man quickly worked his way down along a stream knowing it would lead him directly to Hagard. He figured there would be some sort of fighting force in the city that could help. Even if the city was already attacked the city had many defenses. He had been there before.

After traveling throughout the night the man looked for a place to hide. It was becoming morning and he needed his rest. He eventually found two large rocks that had slid down the mountain that had made a crevasse he could squeeze into. Behind the rocks was a small open space. Still a bit cramped but better than nothing.

While thinking about this that is when he heard it. A faint ticking sound. It was getting louder, coming from behind him up the mountain.

Tick...tick...tick...

The man was confused but still thought it best to stay hidden. He had never heard this sound before and if it was related to dragons the merchants never mentioned it.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

Then, there was more noise. The rustle of chains and a metallic scraping sound against trees and rocks. The man dared not breath.

TICK...TICK...TICK...THONK!

A giant metal claw landed right in front of the opening of the crevasse. What he saw froze him to his bones. The merchants had described dragons as animals with scales and skin like that of a lizard. This was something completely different. The form of a dragon yes but made of metal. The joints creaked and groaned like that of a well oiled machine. Its armor shone bright in the morning sunrise. It turned this way and that as if searching for something. Then it slowly clamored down stream towards Hagard.

"This is no animal," thought the man, "this is a machine of war."