1
April, 2014
Word Count – 1,620
Rated – PG
Middle Grade Fantasy Story
A Prequel to: The Adventures of Saga, the Winged Horse Trilogy
Rin of Etavir
Part 1
By Melinda Taylor
Dragonfire skies lit the new morning. Bright light burned through the thick curtains
and crossed the sleeping face of young Princess Rin. With a start she awoke, threw the
covers from her grand bed. Fully dressed from the late night of reading adventure tales,
she skated across the polished stone floor to the arched window in her stocking feet.
The youngster pushed aside the drapes and scanned the heavens hoping to see one.
A dream.
A hope.
A wish.
A dragon.
But dragons were a rarity these days. Most killed off now by knights, kings, villagers,
farmers, any vigilante with a deadly weapon and a fear would do. All because of a
terrible misunderstanding. She recalled the fairystory she had just read.
2
Many three moons and two suns ago, longer than anyone could count on fingers and
toes, the dragons and humans stood as friends. While even more aloof than the winged
horses, and never forming The Bond like they did, dragons would still come to the aid
of a human if the cause was just and if asked politely. After all was done, bridges built
from huge trees bitten off at the root, land cleared by fire for farms, or bands of thieves
driven from forests with bared teeth and roars, the dragons would fly away
immediately and back to their caves and hilltops and the crests of towering mountains.
Wise as they were they learned from the dread experiences of the winged horses that
any alliance with humans would always be a tenuous – if not deadly - one.
Indeed a certain faction of humans – The Dragoneers – decided that it was getting
tedious to be polite to dragons and that the time had come to raise dragons from the
egg; their very own dragons that would serve without question or reason, or asking,
dragons they could sell or rent out for great profit.
The Dragoneers came up with a brilliant plan to find a mother dragon on her nest,
her most docile time, and simply pilfer her clutch. It would take some devising and
planning, but they felt it could and should be done. So many nights they met in secret to
do just this. They waited patiently for Vernica when the weather warmed and lent itself
to the nesting of dragons.
It wasn’t long before a scout discovered a new mother dragon on her first nest
tucked into the nearby mountainside. Many days he spoke with her, Findari, was her
name, and lured her into trusting him and the humans that were to visit her tomorrow.
3
As dawn lighted, the humans hiked up with large, canvas satchels strapped to their
shoulders, padded with the feathers gathered from abandoned winged horse bowers
and long empty griffon nests. There were many, at least a dozen or more, eager, greedy
faced men and women all ready to steal a family. The young mother dragon could not
imagine such treachery and welcomed her visitors with a toothy reptilian smile and a
wave of her paw proudly showing off her twelve brown bespeckled eggs.
Then it all happened so fast. One Dragoneer drew out a bag of sharpspice, mostly
used for adding flavor to foods, but also known for repelling webbugs, workerbugs and
– reptiles. Quickly the others threw masks to faces as he hurled the open bag at poor
Findari! She drew back squinting against the sharp burning pain of the spice in her
eyes, her nose, her mouth.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! AHCHEEEEWWWW!” she sneezed violently and unintentionally with
a torrent of fire! The nearest Dragoneers were charred instantly, the others were not so
lucky. They fled screaming and smoking down the mountainside. When it all cleared,
Findari wept boiling tears the color of ice.
Those who refused to believe a dragon could do such a brutal thing were convinced
otherwise by the horrific sight of the mangled flesh and deformed limbs of the few
survivors. Their stories of how the dragon attacked them without provocation or mercy
when they were only there to congratulate her on her new clutch certainly helped to
convince even those wide and far who did not see.
4
That evening before darkness stole the suns and the three moons took rule of the sky
the King astride his white warhorse, with his troops massing behind him, rode up to
Findari who had stayed upon her nest nurturing her eggs as only a mother dragon
would.
Crisped bodies, nearly unrecognizable save for the remnants of garments, blackened
pieces of canvas and fragments of bones and hair, were gingerly stepped over by horses
and foot soldiers. Golden griffon feathers, impervious even to dragonfire, wisped about
with each puff of wind.
“Are you responsible for all this?!” The King demanded sweeping his hand at the
horror and mayhem behind, beside and before him. His horse pawed the ground to
dust and worried at the bit.
Findari spoke, her voice metallic but not without the warmth of apology and regret,
“I didn’t mean it. I am so very sorry. They threw something at me that made me
sneeze. I have yet to learn to fully control my fire and could not.” With furtive glances
she noticed that the King’s army had her surrounded. “Please,” she entreated, as the
men raised their spears, “forgive me?”
“No!” the King decreed. “Men, attack!”
Findari fought against instinct, but not the King’s troops. She knew to do so would
further enrage the humans. Nor did she flame the King as he dealt the final death blow
to her heart. As her death screams dwindled to silence and her nest turned green with
5
her blood and silver scales sprinkled the air like fairy glitter, Findari lay dead, every one
of her precious eggs smashed.
By the dragon’s sneeze she had set forth her fate and the doom of all her kind.
Only now, so many enduring manymonths later, were people starting to doubt and
wonder if this judgment was perhaps in haste. Often they’d stare at the sky blurred from
guilty crying with heavy wishes burdening their hearts.
Rin brushed away her tears. “I forgive you, Findari,” she whispered, “If there is one
dragon that still lives, I will make this wrong right.”
“Who are you talking to, dear?”
Rin spun to see her mother, Queen Vernica, named for the promising season into
which she was born, entering the sleeping chambers wearing a long teal gown with
matching robe made of the softest and, apparently, the quietest, satin. She swept
toward her daughter.
“Only myself, mother,” Rin responded. Accepting a loving hug, she turned back to
the skies.
The sound of a drumbeat far away but fast approaching drew the queen to stand
behind Rin. She said, peering out, “What do you suppose that is? It’s too early for the
drummers’ practice and we are in a state of peace with our neighbors. But wait, it can’t
be. Why it sounds like – “
6
Before her mother could finish her dawning thought, a shout rose up from the
courtyard sentry below. “A DRAGON! A DRAGON!” A DRAGON IS COMING!”
Soon a chorus of voices strained with fear yet restrained in wonder joined in. Along
with everyone, the queen stared up at the huge creature as it batted past. A male, by
the size of him, the color of the shining sunsset sea with grand wings of burnished
bronze.
“Rin! One still exists!” When the queen looked to Rin, her child was gone.
The princess tore through the vast hallways, down the steep steps and into the
castle courtyard. She raced to the stables calling for the Stablemaster. “Altan! Altan!
Prepare my palfry.” She skidded up to him and hopped into her boots that she had
grabbed up while her mother still watched the last dragon.
“Oh, Altan, what I wouldn’t give for a winged horse right now!”
He expertly and quickly saddled her palfry, a loyal piebald pony. “Wouldn’t we all,” he
agreed, as he tightened the girth. Then he slipped in the bit and pulled the bridle over
the pony’s ears. “You’re not going after that dragon, are you?”
“Of course!”
“With the queen’s permission, may I assume?”
“Well,” Rin rarely dissembled but this was a quest for returned honor. She hoped a
partial lie would be forgiven later, “Well, you may assume!”
7
“Alright, then, mount up,” Altan resigned offering her the reins, knowing there is no
use arguing with a princess once she’s made up her mind. Especially one that poured
over adventure stories and believed in them every day.
Rin swung aboard and galloped off on the fastest pony anyone had ever known, a
gift from the neighboring Caalakin Kingdom, to keep the peace. It certainly worked in
their favor this day as the pony ate up ground like it was the tastiest sweetpome in all of
Etavir.
Tears whipped from Rin’s eyes as she bent to the pony’s furry black neck and
whirling mane of bright white. “You must be part winged horse, Fleera! With you I can
fly!” Encouraged, Fleera skimmed along the ground as swift as any speedbird.
They followed the dragon as he flapped on ahead. Much slower than a winged horse
or a griffin and certainly not as fast as the deadly wolfca, still he put Rin far behind him.
A feeling told her that he was heading toward the tall cliffs that ringed the shores.
Riddled with open hallows, they provided perfect places of safety for a dragon to hide in
and rest before attempting the daunting flight across the endless Etavirian sea.
Part 2 coming soon!
8