Vras's Valley

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

But they were sure there now.

There were all sorts of stories about what it had once been. Some said it had been a wide expanse of flowing grasses where man and beast had coexisted in peace. Others that it had been a sprawling testament to technological development and commerce with tall steel buildings that touched the sky. Still others said that it had been ground zero of a war that devastated the planet. Maybe they were all true, or maybe none were.

It was hard to tell anymore, because these days the Valley was a roiling mass of scales, wings, and teeth as far as they eye could see. Vras was crouched on a rock outcrop not far from his clan's cave, just watching the tapestry of creatures writhe. Now and again he would try to count all the bodies, but he usually gave up after a couple hundred -- there was just too much movement to keep them all straight. Still, he was pretty sure there were thousands of dragons down there.

The sun was setting, and its purple-orange light glinted off scales of every color, making the Valley resemble a very dangerous rainbow. Some of the dragons had glowing eyes, and some had bioluminescent patterns running along their length. As the sky got darker and the first stars began to appear, the glowing points below came to stand out more as well, as if the dragons vied even with the heavens.

“Vras! Oh Vras!”

It was his sister, Zo, of course, coming to fetch him to dinner, or chores maybe. He balled his fists and glared at nothing particular. Those may be the reasons she'd give, but he knew better. With the day's light failing, it wasn't wise to be too far from shelter, and she wanted him to come in where it was safe.

Most of the dragons never left the Valley. Some barely moved at all, and had been laying nearly still for longer than Vras had been watching. But the younger ones would rouse themselves as night came out, and those that weren't caught up fighting one another for a better spot would come hunting.

He was just so tired of living in fear. Of the routines that kept them safe. Of hiding.

“There you are Vras! I've been looking all over for you,” she said.

“No you haven't. You knew I'd be here,” said Vras.

She clicked her labrum, a habit she'd picked up sometime in the past year. “Well, fine then, but still, I shouldn't have to come out and fetch you at all!”

Vras slowly straightened all of his legs, raising his leather-clad carapace up off the stone. The night sky reflected from his upper eyes, and the Valley of draconic light sources from his four main eyes. His hands flicked all over to check his swords and other provisions were properly stowed. He then rotated in place to greet Zo's approach.

“No, you shouldn't. And you don't. Yet, here you are.” he said.

She rolled half her eyes and waved her forelegs in the air. Vras found his way to her side and they scuttled together in silence, leaving the Valley behind. All the way to their cave, their claws clicked a staccato rhythm upon the hard earth. They passed nothing of significance, and said nothing more for a time.

Now and then there was a rumble or a roar, or the sound of a plume of fire flaming skyward after being belched into the air, but they grew distant and were muffled almost entirely as Vras and Zo passed into the mouth of their cave. All they heard was their own clicking for a moment, but that silenced once each had alighted upon respective bits of webbing.

Silenced, but no less present, since now they could feel the pulse of one another's steps through the strands since they both joined the same webbed superstructure that spiraled down every branch of their clan's cavern. Clan Könguló had dug it out over generations, the webs suffusing it woven and rewoven a bit here and there by nearly everyone that traversed them over the years.

As they lost the light from above the vibrations coming from deeper within the cave intensified. Vras felt one pulse and then another, letting him know who was moving along the web ahead, even if they were numerous twists and turns distant. Descending deeper they passed numerous offshoots and were joined by a growing crowd, everyone spiraling along the webbing towards the Den.

Vras was almost there, close enough that he could smell a few notes of whatever was on offer. He stepped carefully stepping from strand to strand to spiral through towards Zo so that he could perch near her for dinner, when some pointed vibrations stopped him in his tracks. They were so sharp that he feel them all up his legs from claw to coxa. It was Mother Araña, scolding him for coming to mealtime with his weapons still on his back. She was off in the Den and couldn't see him at all, but she could tell by the feel of his steps that he was heavier than he should be, and he could tell it was her by the tone of her vibrations.

Zo clearly felt it to and shot him a look. “I'll find you!” he shouted as he detoured off down the next side tunnel, looping back against the flow. He could have messaged her through the web, but then *everybody* would hear it, while the shout would only be heard by those near at hand who were listening.

He made his way turn by turn until he arrived at his personal burrow. He had dug it out himself just a few years back -- doing so was the key right of passage to adulthood among his people. His burrow was still small enough that if he reared up and reached out all his legs he could touch all its edges, but he was young yet. Someday he'd make it bigger, maybe add some rooms, but he'd had enough digging down in the depths when it was his turn to help with the expansion of the clan cavern - a term of service everyone had to spend after making their borrow.

His burrow was mostly an excavated sphere, with a small nook to either side. The nook to one side was had some of his art supplies and a number of empty web packets, while the one on the other side had neatly folded outfits and a few books. Next to the that nook he'd also dug out four long, narrow slots, into which he now slid his swords, scabbards and all, as he removed them from his back. He then shucked off his leather armor and folded it neatly, lest Mother Araña grumble about that as well. And with that he was back upon the web and rushing to dinner!

- - -- --- ----- --- -- - -

By the time Vras arrived at the Den it was quite crowded.

While most of Clan Könguló's caverns were dark, the Den was an exception. The walls were lined with a bioluminescent fungus that cast the room in a continuous blue-green glow. It was a huge excavation - so big that it had to be supported by rigid webbing arranged into a hectohedron that touched the earthen walls at every vertex. This both distributed the forces to keep the room stable and provided a wonderful lattice for spinning elaborate webs to fill to the space.

Right now there were webs going every which way, with people gathered into social groups in all sorts of configurations. Some were just arrayed around a circle, but others were simply dangling near one other, and one group of eight had made an elongated octahedron with a member sitting at each of the vertices. He couldn't see Zo anywhere in all the web and bustle, so he gave up looking and just plucked one of the webs he was on with a quick little query, to which she responded almost immediately. His brain quickly mapped out the route and he could easily visualize the web traversals required, but she was on the other side of the room, so he decided to grab his food first.

Vras made his way to the center of the Den, where he encountered Mother Araña. Really there were many mothers, and they were all raised collectively from the time they emerged from the egg sac. Technically he didn't *know* she was his birth mother, except that she had a bright orange diamond to the side of her rightmost eye which he shared, so he'd always felt a particular affinity. He had four of her eyes on him as he approached, which he always made a subconscious point to do so on her right side, as that bit of orange comforted him.

She turned most of her attention from the line that Vras has avoided, still handing out packets of webbing to those patiently waiting. Still, she moved her chelicerae in a positive manner before saying, “It's good to see you cleaned up, little Vras. Crawl well my love.” She handed him his own sealed packet before turning back to those waiting in line. Mother Araña was always very busy when it was her turn to provide, as the packets were filled with a sort of stew she made by combining a range of prey combined with her own secret blend of spices, and it was a favorite.

He words rankled a bit as he crawled off with his food in claw, but he wouldn't show her that. While he was still a bit young to be going about armed, it wasn't by much, and did she have to rub it in by calling him “little?” He tried to put it out of his mind as he moved absentmindedly from web to web in the direction of Zo.

There she was, perched in front of their young cousins Pająk, Pavúk, and Pók, presumably telling them a story. Given the communal parenting and rough anonymity of actual lineages, “cousins” was perhaps a funny designation, but they had the same orange marking by the right eye that he, Zo, and Mother Araña shared. He could just as well think of them as siblings, as he did Zo, but he'd decided to reserve that for those from his own egg sac, so thought of those who were closely related by from other sacs as cousins.

Vras had made it most of the way over when a deep THOOM shook the webbing. It was a strange sensation because it was a vibration that seemed to come from everywhere all at once. All conversation in the Den, both verbal or vibrational, ceased. In the silence they could hear some distant booms, clearly coming from somewhere down deep in their cavern. A growing tension suffused the room.

And then everything was pandemonium. Frantic vibrations came up the webbing that lead down to where cavern excavation would be happening. The got more and more fierce, and soon were joined by vibrations that clearly weren't made by anyone in their clan. Everybody in the room started to scramble this way and that, most rushing away but many rushing towards the disruption. Mother Araña was both shouting and strumming complicated patterns into the web, discussing, querying, and organizing all at once. He saw that the three cousins had leapt on to Zo's back and she was scuttling them to safety.

Vras was among those rushing towards the tunnel that lead down to the excavators when the webbing suddenly went slack. This was even more unsettling and strange than the eerie vibration from everywhere. Sure, webs sometimes broke and anchor points could fail, but the essential structures this deep inside Clan Könguló's caverns had been taut longer not just than Vras could remember, but longer than any clan member alive could remember. It was a sign of sure danger on its own, but it was followed by a horrible shriek that drowned out everything else.

A surge of fleeing individuals came boiling out of the tunnel, chased closely by a gruesome snout and flashing teeth. Just a snapping snout protruded into the room for a moment, which was plenty terrifying on its own, but then the earth around the opening exploded as the creature giving chase burst forth.

A dragon was in the Den!

It stood up and spread its wings, snapping webbing with every movement, and it shrieked again, small bolts of electricity jumping between its teeth. Vras had seen this before, and knew what was coming, because it was something he'd seen many times in the Valley.

Mother Araña leapt on its muzzle and fast as anything was wrapped it around and around with her good, strong webbing, but the beast slashed at her with one clawed hand, slicing through her webs and sending her flying, though she caught herself and was racing back towards it. Vras and others were now racing to help, when a second dragon came into the room. This one was smaller, and had no wings, but it had six legs instead of four and it was very fast, vanishing down another tunnel, gobbling as it went.

There were now dozens of clan members crawling around and webbing up the first dragon, but it was strong and kept flailing about, smashing many in the process. More small dragons kept coming in and out of the Den, destroying generations old webs and tunnels as they slashed and chomped and hunted. Vras was trying to web the first dragon's left arm to its side, and thought he almost had it, when the creature tore through it with brute strength and whipped the back of its hand against the wall.

Pain tore through Vras, blotting out every other sensation, as he slid down the wall until he was so tangled in fallen webbing that it arrested his movement. He felt sure there was a crack in his carapace and a number of legs weren't working right.

His vision was going dark, but not so much that the light wasn't still painfully bright when a bolt of lightning shot from the mouth of the dragon, sending arcs of electricity all around the chamber and even along some of the remaining webbing. It was terribly loud in the enclosed space.

He heard another shriek, but as if it were distant.

He smelled burning.

And then, nothing.

- - -- --- ----- --- -- - -

When Vras awoke, he found himself alone in what remains of the Den. The walls were deeply gouged, but there was enough of the fungus left to see, albeit dimly. Some large clumps of dirt had fallen, and the hectohedron was destroyed, but the walls had held. There was torn webbing and bodies all around. Here and there tendrils wafted in a strange breeze that came up via the cavern from which the dragons had emerged.

He was laying on his back, nearly buried in webbing and dirt. He flexed each of his eight legs gingerly, carefully watching all seven joints as he let the leg curl inward and then out again. He was leaking in a few places where his exoskeleton had been damaged, which he carefully patched with bandages of his own webbing. A few more flexes and he was satisfied. He flipped himself back upright and stood.

He wanted to call out, but he didn't know if the monsters were still here, and given the open air coming from below, they could be lurking outside even if the cavern itself was presently empty of threats. He crept over to that tunnel and peered down, but there was still dark, so whatever walls had been breached were still far enough down that that the light wasn't making it up. There may be to see, but there was plenty to smell -- the tunnel stank of dragons.

He wasn't sure, but he could guess what had happened. The Clan Könguló cavern had its mouth far from the Valley, but once underground it wended back towards the Valley because that's where the warmth was. The warmth was not only critical for the incubation of their egg sacks, but it also welled up throughout the cavern system to keep the whole place from freezing. It must have been that one of the excavators dug too close to the surface and a dragon heard and dug its way into the tunnel. There were other plausible explanations, but the crux was that they'd gotten near enough the Valley to invite destruction into their home, and it had come gladly with jaws at the ready. The strange vibration before the dragon arrived must have been from the pressure change of the tunnel wall being breached.

He stepped back from the edge. Had anybody survived? He... he had to get his gear. Yes. That was the right thing to do next. He crawled along slowly, both because everything hurt when he moved and because he didn't know what dangers yet lurked. He dug through the webbing looking for bodies as he went, checking for life signs but finding none.

And then he found her. Mother Araña was on her back, but all her legs we curled tightly inwards, so he knew she was dead. Her eyes were sightless, though he could see himself reflect in all eight of them as he neared. A feeling of hopeless dread permeated through him... but then his eyes alighted upon the orange diamond by her rightmost eye and rage boiled within. His carapace and all his limbs shook.

Vras forgot his cares about being detected or checking for survivors and found himself racing through the caves back to his burrow. He kept to the dirt as he went since most of the webbing infrastructure throughout the cavern was destroyed. Everywhere tunnel had gouges and breaks, and a few were caved in so he had to go back and find another way around.

He made it all the way to his burrow without encountering anybody at all. The burrow itself was just as he'd left it. He pulled his leather armor from the nook in which he'd placed it and strapped it on, then pulled his swords from their recesses and put them too on his back. He quickly rummaged through the web packets, but they were all empty. He debated searching other burrows for more supplies, but felt funny stealing from the dead, and he didn't feel like he'd live long anyways, going straight at the dragons as his anger dictated.

Before long he'd found his way back to the Den and descended into the accursed tunnel. Down and down he crawled through the darkness, anger his only companion. Some of the offshoots he passed still had intact web in them, and out of his side eyes he thought one may have tentatively vibrated as he went by, but he didn't stop. The smell of dragons got stronger and stronger, and then the darkness started to brighten. The wall opposite the next bend was so bright he knew he'd find the breach just beyond.

He took the turn and stopped in his tracks. The tunnel simply ended. The dirt all around was freshly broken and ground clearly grooved by claws. Whatever of the cavern had existed beyond this point was forever gone. Instead, here he stood, looking straight out into the Valley from its bottom. The sun beat down and contentedly sleeping dragons rose up around him on all sides. He didn't see any he recognized from the night before, just these hulking masses who wouldn't care a jot about him and his swords. Or his lost clan. Or Mother Araña. He sunk down, unsure what to do.

“Vras...” came a soft cry from behind him.

His side eyes looked back and he turned to see Zo staggering down the tunnel towards him. Two of her eyes and two of her legs were missing, but the wounds had been staunched with webbing, so she could still move with effort. Her voice wall full of that burden.

“Zo!” he called as he stood and rushed to her, wrapping as many arms as he could around her, helping to hold her up.

“How are you here?” he asked.

“I... I'd run with Pająk, Pavúk, and Pók on my back, but something came down the tunnel I'd taken and caused it to collapse. Pająk and Pavúk were buried alive, and I was partly crushed, but Pók dug me out and used her webbing to bind my wounds.”

“Pók is alive?” Vras asked.

She started to lead Vras away from the opening in the Valley, back into what now felt like the fictitious safety of the tunnels. “Yes. By the time she and I dug our way out, everything had happened. We came down here to check on the egg sacks... they're... they're all gone. But we did find some younglings who'd survived by fleeing into a few of the unfinished tunnels... there must have not been enough scent for them to seem worth the effort.”

“Mother Araña...” he started.

“I saw...“ she said softly.

It had gotten dark enough that he could no longer see, but he felt her slump, putting more of her weight on him.

“A few of the younglings who'd been helping care for them said that the initial wave of dragons had all gone by and up towards the Den, ignoring these lower tunnels. They said that only later, after the adults had joined the fight and not come back, did a dragon enter the egg chamber. They say that rather than eating the egg sacs, it rolled around the room, covering itself in them. And then it just left back down the tunnel the way it had come.”

Vras's stomach twisted. They'd heard rumors that some dragons had been trying to set up farms where clans were raised as food. It was an awful thought. The loss of his mother and clan was terrible, but to think that Clan Könguló would live only as slaves and foodstuff for some dragon we beyond unacceptable. He didn't have a plan yet, but if they were out here, he would find them.

“I will get them back, Zo,” he said.

“Yes. We will.”