Last backup done 10/26/12
Note: to do a word count, control – shift – G all together
This is the version that is behind my desk in the drawers behind it, more confusing.
I had some issues because I received multiple versions of things so hopefully these are not
tooooo confusing to you. I noted in some instances that black represents one set and red another
and green another. When it was extra confusing to me I put the alternative paragraphs in the
“Alternate Paragraphs” word document. Author’s Note is also it’s own document. Note in the
“Alternate Paragraphs” document I had for some reason one paragraph I couldn’t figure out
where it belonged.
Miscellaneous notes:
If you use an exclamation or a question mark, for example “What are you doing right now?” he
said. You wouldn’t put a comma and you wouldn’t capitalize what follows. I was able to find a
sample on line. 
Dragon men or Dragonmen – sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s another – capitalize or no?
Gaslamp or gas lamp – it can go either way
Dragonkind or dragon kind – capitalize or no?
Dragonrider or dragon rider – same as above
Crowmaster or crow master – same as above
Go through and make all of the above uniform (i.e. Dragonmen)
Make sure all punctuation is INSIDE the quotation marks
Chapter 1:
Nick opens his eyes. It is dusk, his usual waking time. He is hungry – or
thirsty. The two are synonymous for the adolescent. His dirty blonde hair flips
about his pale forehead as he rouses himself to a standing position.
From where he stands, the entrance to the cave is barely perceptible. The grey
opening is partially occluded by a massive dark silhouette. The large object moves.
Now Nick is confronted by a pair of glowing ruby orbs.
I’m hungry too.
The thought is received by Nick from the owner of the fist-sized illuminated
eyes.
“We’ll find something to eat soon,” Nick promises. Although speaking is not
necessary, Nick often transitions between telepathy and the spoken word. He
strolls up to the big, wedge-shaped head. Nick scratches behind his friend’s ears.
The dragon emits a low crooning sound. Then Nick looks back towards the dark
end of the cave. “Sparx! Sparx, you here?”
There is a sudden, audible pop and then a small cascade of shimmering golden
flecks announce the arrival of Sparx. She is only the size of Nick’s hand and is
fluttering in the air above his head. The rapidly darkening cavern is now treated to
the basking glow of Sparx. She is like a hovering lantern, though it is impossible
to discern whether the light originates from within her or merely surrounds her as
if she is always the focus of a spotlight.
Now that Nick’s face is bathed in Sparx’s light, his smile is revealed on his
boyish face. His canine teeth are pronounced and come to sharp points, but the
expression is not in the least bit menacing. Instead, it tells of his delight at the
sudden appearance of this most unusual friend.
That is not to say that his other friend is any less unusual. Drake is actually one
of a kind. That is something that the dragon and Nick share in common. Since
birth, the pair had known each other. They had both come into existence at
precisely the same moment. Though they were geographically half a world apart
at the beginning of their lives, Nick and Drake had become at once conscious of
one another and linked for life.
“Bzz! Screek! Bzz!” exclaims Sparx in her pixie language that reminded Nick
of a combination of the tweets of birds, the buzzing of insects, and the squeaks of
small rodents. He had yet to be able to understand a word of it. Fortunately,
Drake had had better luck with the translating.
She says she has something to show us.
Nick looks from Drake back to Sparx. “Sparx, you know how hungry we are
when we first wake up. Let us feed and then you can show us whatever it is,” Nick
states as he gives the pixie a skeptical look. Pixies are very excitable by nature and
Sparx would often prod Nick and Drake for attention, wanting them to see this or
that. She could be very insistent, making it seem urgent. Many times Nick would
jump on the back of Drake’s neck and he would take flight, following the glowing
pixie only so she could show them her reflection at the edge of a river.
“Kreee! Woo!”
“Now what?” Nick looks back to Drake for the interpretation.
Sparx says it can’t wait.
“I’ll bet,” Nick mutters under his breath. His hunger is growing and his good
mood diminishing. Nick hefts the large leather riding saddle onto Drake’s back at
the place where the dragon’s neck meets his body. Drake lifts his head as far as his
long neck will allow, accommodating Nick as he fastens the straps snugly at the
base of the dragon’s thick throat. “All right, Sparx. You win. This better be
good.”
The Pixie is already anxiously flittering towards the mouth of the cave. She
then moves slightly back in the direction of her companions only to jerk forward
again. Her hummingbird-like movements are accompanied by her constant
jabbering as she coaxes Drake and Nick to follow her lead.
Once the saddle is securely in place, Nick approaches Drake from the dragon’s
left side. He puts his left foot in the corresponding stirrup, grabs the ridge at the
back of Drake’s neck and deftly hoists his right leg over the top of the saddle while
simultaneously rotating his body to a forward facing position. Feeling the weight
of his rider, Drake turns his head so that one gleaming ruby eye could make sure
Nick is ready for takeoff. With his wings still tucked neatly at his sides, Drake
rises up off his haunches and individually flexes the talons on his front paws. Nick
holds fast to the reins as Drake arches his back. Then, as the dragon comes back
down on all fours, he starts to gallop toward the star-speckled night. Sparx is
whirling all about them, literally flying circles around the dragon.
“Ok. You got us out here,” Nick shouts above the rushing air and pounding of
dragon feet so his eager little friend could hear him. “Now, show us the way,
Sparx!” He can’t help his amusement at the pixie’s enthusiasm. Sparx
momentarily hovers in front of Drake’s muzzle, and then disappears in a brilliant
explosion of tiny sparks, like a mini firework. Drake sneezes a short burst of
flames as an involuntary reaction to some of the pixie dust tickling his nostrils.
I hate it when she does that.
She reappears over the ridge of trees that delineate the boundary of Aldin
Forest. Drake leaps from the generous perch of ridge at the cave’s entrance and
swoops down the slopes of the cliff, extending his jade colored wings to their full
span. The dragon’s powerful muscles flex and with a single beat of his mighty
wings, they ascend dramatically, leaving the side of the mountain far below.
Drake pauses for a moment at the top of the climb, dragon and rider briefly
outlined with full moon backdrop. Then the sleek, dark green wings tip so the left
angles towards the heavens and the right to the ground below. They bank in the
direction of the canopy of trees and glide after the twinkling pixie.
Chapter 2
The dark cobblestone alleyway dips in the middle to allow storm water and
sewage to trickle to lower places. The rank smell of urine permeates the air, its
acrid odor continuously replenished by the drunks stumbling to relieve themselves
as they aimlessly meander through the night.
It is within these foul surroundings that the eternally damned seek their prey.
She stealthily maneuvers through the shadows until she is within striking
distance. He is completely unaware. His inebriation has dulled his senses. Not
that it would matter. Her presence would be undetectable to even the most
perceptive of humans.
The putrid stench of the alley would normally be overwhelming to her
heightened olfactory receptors, but the smell of blood makes all others pale in
comparison. The blood calls her; it drives her.
He peers over his shoulder. He is too slow. She is already upon him. In one
smooth swipe, she decapitates him with her long, razor-sharp fingernails. The
arterial spray engulfs her. Though her victim outweighs her, she lifts the still
twitching body directly over her upturned face as easily as someone would raise a
double-handled pitcher and pour the contents to their mouth. The blood from the
now headless neck flows directly into her gaping maw. The steady stream soon
diminishes to a trickle, which in turn ends with a few lingering drips. There is no
more. He is drained, empty. She is satiated…..for now.
***
Chapter 3
Sparx is good about keeping herself in Nick and Drake’s line of sight. Even
though the mighty dragon is capable of tremendous flight speeds, the pixie has the
advantage of instantaneous teleportation. All she has to do is place the image in
her mind of her desired destination and she spontaneously appears there in the
blink of an eye.
At this moment she is over a break in the forest that reveals a river glimmering
in the moonlight.
“If she is just showing us her reflection again……” Nick begins. A scowl
forms over his brow as he notices where Spark is headed.
No, look more closely.
As he receives the thought from Drake, Nick notices a small fire near the banks
of the other side of the river. He stares more intently at the immediate
surroundings of the fire and is able to make out the shapes of three makeshift tents.
It had been a while since they had encountered any people. Their cavernous abode
is deep within Aldin Forest. This is the first sign of humans since they had taken
up residence here.
Instead of landing directly at the campsite, Drake makes a low sweeping circle
over the river and the surrounding forest. Something isn’t right. If people are
here, Nick would have been able to smell the blood by now. Either the campers
had suddenly vanished, leaving behind a well stoked campfire, or……….
Sparx appears next to Nick’s shoulder. She looks very frightened.
Drake comes in low to the ground, gives a few brief flaps of his wings to
decelerate, and pounces on the shores of the river. Nick remains in the saddle with
Sparx by his side as the dragon slinks up next to the nearest tent. An arm is visible
now, as it lies motionless, protruding through the canvas flaps.
***
Chapter 4
Black depicts first set, items in red depict changes in the second set you sent
Far across the world, in the lands of the Dragon Men, the mountains protrude
dramatically from the Northern Sea. The soils are rocky, the terrain rugged and the
bitter cold only relents for the short summer. The hardy, coniferous trees, well
adapted to the unforgiving climate, force their existence through the cracks in the
decomposing granite slopes. Their advance into the majestic rising ridge of
Boldever Mountain is suddenly thwarted by the sheer cliffs of Highland Den, home
to the Dragon Men North.
A large, Burgundy dragon glides through the pristine scenery. Its massive body
is dwarfed by the vast expanse of vertical rock. What at first appears to be just
another shadow among the cliffs in the setting sun is now revealed to be an
opening. The dragon is enveloped in the deep crevasse. There is a moment of
complete darkness once the dragon starts to pass into the cliff. The absence of
light is soon replaced by the flickering yellowish orange cast of torches lining the
walls. There is now a smooth floor visible not far below the slowing dragon and
rider. As they touch down, the dragon folds its wings behind its back. The
powerful legs quickly absorb the forward momentum in a short, controlled gallop
that ends with the dragon lowering itself down onto its haunches to allow the rider
to dismount.
Valkyr rises from the saddle and drops to the ground landing steadily on his
feet. He is a giant of a man with a barrel chest and long sturdy legs. He pats his
paw of a hand affectionately against the hide of his much larger counterpart.
“Good Bjorgon,” he speaks reassuringly. “That was a long scout today. I know
you are as hungry as I.” Now he is rubbing the ridges behind the dragon’s ears.
Then he adds, “Why don’t you go to the livestock paddock and rustle yourself up
some dinner?” Valkyr’s bearded face regards Bjorgon, his smile warm and full of
affection.
Skyhalla awaits me. She is ready.
The dragon regards his rider with his glowing, emerald eyes. Valkyr hoots and
claps Bjorgon on his muscular neck. “Go my friend! Do not keep a lady waiting,”
he roars. “Our numbers are too few for you to pass up an opportunity.” Valkyr
starts to unstrap the riding saddle under the dragon’s lifted neck. Once the leather
apparatus is unburdened from Bjorgon’s back, Valkyr slaps it down heavily on a
bench. He looks on as Bjorgon turns towards the corridor that leads to the
dragon’s lair.
Now that Bjorgon is gone, Valkyr puts his hands on his hips, grins and shakes
his head. He then starts toward the steps to the great hall. The meeting of the
council will have to wait. Skyhalla is the only queen dragon at Highland Den.
Though there are many females besides her, only one can be queen and therefore
only she can lay fertile eggs. This also means that Skyhalla’s rider, Lyra, would be
waiting for Valkyr. He quickens his steps, a twinkle in his eye to all those he
passes on his way.
Chapter 5
Now that her thirst had been quenched, the overpowering hunger that drives her
subsides. She becomes more aware of the unpleasant smells of the alley. She
drops the now cold body into a pile of rubbish. Her sleek figure makes haste to
retreat from these vile surroundings.
Her full, red lips stand in stark contrast to her ivory face as she silently flees
under the full moon’s eerie green light. Though she had long ago forgotten the
feeling of remorse for her victims, she would rather not kill more than necessary.
The longer she lingers, the more likely she might be discovered. She hurries along
a back road and then lifts a grate in the ground and drops into the hole, securing the
covering back into place.
She has entered the catacombs.
The catacombs are a labyrinth of tunnels dug beneath the thriving city. Lined in
mortar, they stay amazingly dry. Precipitation and seepage from the surface
infiltrate the soils beyond the walls, seeking the water table below. The catacombs
were designed specifically to ensure their contents would not intermingle with
liquids from beyond their concrete confines.
In the not too distant past, the city and many others like it suffered from a
massive plague that threatened to doom its future. It was soon realized that the
mass graves that filled with the recently deceased were allowing the essence of the
disease to permeate into the precious water supply. In an effort to stop the plague
from spreading further, bodies were sealed in vessels and an intricate series of
crypts were established to house the dead. The catacombs proved effective at
alleviating the further ailments of the people. Total annihilation was averted and
the population eventually recovered. The plague went away and normal burial
practices returned, but the catacombs still remained.
Her name is Nakira and she has been a vampire for just over seventeen years.
These catacombs had become her home since she was turned. It is where her
present family, such that it is, resides.
The catacombs made the perfect home for the undead. Humans were
instinctively fearful of the underground labyrinth. Daylight never touches these
depths, and vast numbers of bodies are stacked on shelves throughout, a reminder
of the ultimate fate all will eventually face.
The tunnel Nakira follows gradually feeds into a large chamber. The room is
dimly lit by a line of dark candles following the perimeter. Two figures are facing
each other at the far end. They notice her at once and stifle their hushed
conversation.
“You are the last to return, it is nearly dawn,” the taller, more slender one says
to Nakira. He regards her nervously then adds, “We were about to lock up.”
“Thank you for keeping the lights on for me,” Nakira replies dryly. “Didn’t
mean to keep you up past bed time, Soren.” She gives the lanky vampire a
challenging look.
The shorter, stockier vampire next to Soren takes a half step towards Nakira and
regards her with an air of superiority. “One of these nights you will not make it
back in time,” he sneers.
Nakira looks amused. She chuckles lightly. “Oh, Torr, assertiveness does not
suite you.” She seems to enjoy the recoil of his expression at her words. She turns
to leave, waving a casual good bye after her back is turned to them. “Good night,
boys,” she says as she is walking away.
“Vlad is looking for you,” Soren calls after her. Nakira pauses only the briefest
of moments to acknowledge Soren’s voice, then continues down the corridor,
leaving the chamber behind.
Chapter 6
There are four bodies dispersed between the three tents; three male and one
female. They are all completely drained of blood. Nick is kneeling as he examines
the last of the corpses. His confused expression gradually gives way to one of
realization. He abruptly stands and spins to face Drake and Sparx. “We need to
leave right now!”
“What’s your hurry?” A menacing voice sounds from a nearby tree. There is a
rustling coming from a few other directions. The trio finds themselves surrounded
by a gang of six vampires, their blood stained teeth bared as they close in.
“Looks like we found the freaks!” the largest of the six jeers as he exposes
fingernails elongating to viciously sharp points. The other five follow suit, a few
start hissing with faces thrust forward.
Drake’s tail whips with lightning speed as his jaw gapes wide in the opposite
direction. Two of the vampires’ heads are taken off cleanly at the shoulders as the
thunderous crack of the dragon’s lethal tail erupts in the night. The two creatures
of the night that had the misfortune of standing in front of Drake’s head burst into
flames as the fire billows from his mouth. Their screams are inhuman as they flail
about, falling to the ground and becoming motionless.
The largest vampire is between his fallen comrades. He acts quickly while
Drake is dispatching the first four. The hulking fiend leaps into the air, landing on
the dragon’s back squarely between the wings. Just as he is about to sink his sharp
claws into Drake, Sparx explodes directly in front of the creature’s face. Taken by
surprise by the pixie’s sudden appearance and blinded by her brilliant light, the
large vampire staggers back, losing his balance. Feeling the unsteady shift of his
attacker’s weight, Drake bucks his hind legs while simultaneously pumping his
partially extended wings. The result is an impressive forward flip that hurtles the
disoriented undead into the air, only to be snatched in mid-descent by the dragon’s
snapping jaw. The crunching of bones is sickening. Drake drinks all of his fallen
foe’s lifeblood, then spits the mangled and limp remains on the river bank.
While all this is transpiring, Nick has been overcome by the remaining blood
sucker. Nick suffers scratches on his face and shoulder. His aggressor is much
stronger since having recently fed. Nick lunges forward to strike, but the vampire
anticipates his move, catching Nick by the wrist and flipping him onto a tent that
collapses under the weight.
The last vampire is so enthralled in its battle with Nick that it hasn’t realized
that the rest of its party is gone. Sparx flutters about the advancing night walker.
It swipes at her with an irritated hand. She blinks out, leaving a cascade of
sparkles. Nick shakes his head to shrug off the impact of the body slam to the tent.
As he starts to right himself, his attacker swiftly kicks Nick in the ribs, sending him
sprawling.
Just as the fanged fiend is about to hurtle himself onto Nick’s prone figure, a
surprised expression appears on the assailant’s face and the spear-ended tip of
Drake’s tail bursts through the vampire’s sternum. Instinctively, the shocked
creature places its hands over the protruding foreign object. With a retracting
“swoosh” the tail disappears. The vampire’s eyes roll up into its head and its body
slumps to the ground. Two glowing ruby eyes fill the space behind the fallen
creature. Drake takes a step forward, his front paw covering the dead monster.
Are you all right?
Nick slowly gathers himself up, lightly touching his ribs and winces at the pain.
“I was just getting warmed up,” he mumbles groggily. He tries to take a step,
nearly falls again, but manages to barely steady himself. Nick glances around the
campsite, taking in the aftermath. His eyes settle on the last vampire to die that
Drake is standing on. Nick looks up at the dragon and nods his head toward the
creature pressed flat under Drake’s paw. “I wore that last one out for you.” He
starts dusting himself off, and then adds with a smirk, “Took you long enough.”
Sparx pops into the air and goes about scooping up some of her magical dust
and gingerly applies it to Nick’s wounds. The scratches glow under the healing
substance. As the phosphorescence subsides, the gouges miraculously transform
into healed skin. Next, Spark busies herself scrutinizing every inch of Drake to see
if he has injuries to treat.
I am fine, Sparx. They did not harm me.
“We should clean this up,” Nick says motioning to the dead bodies strewn
about. “If vampire patrols have made it this far from the cities, it is only a matter
of time before we are found.” The thought causes him to shudder briefly. “I
wonder what brought these campers out this far? There isn’t a human settlement in
over a hundred miles.”
There are hoof prints leading away from the campsite.
have scared their horses off.
The vampires must
“Chirp!Bzz! Brr!” the pixie offers.
Sparx saw them down the river earlier while we slept.
“Tomorrow night we start searching the forest. Sparx, let us know what you see
when we wake. In the meantime let’s not leave anything here to draw any more
attention.” Apprehension shone in Nick’s brown eyes. He and his friends had
enjoyed a brief period of tranquility. He suspected that that time was coming to an
end. Tonight was only the beginning of their troubles.
Chapter 7
Twilight passes. The sky darkens. The spherical moon hangs luminous in the
night. A strange shape passes in the crisp air. Serpentine features intertwine,
tangling and untangling, only to reform again. The object is falling rapidly in the
evening’s light. Sharp points threaten from below. Immense bat-like appendages
spring forth. The single form splits. The perilous descent transforms into an
acrobatic upward sling as one mirrorsthe other in flight. A shrill cry echoes off the
mountain wall.
Bjorgon’s body is screaming to great heights. His glowing eyes search across
the moon swept horizon. The other dragon’s pearl hide glimmers in the void
between them. Her back arcs as she reaches the apex of her parabular path. She is
inverted and her indigo eyes taunt her mate as she seems to become suspended in
the air, briefly motionless. The maroon dragon reaches Skyhalla. Their strange
shrieks are alien and incomparable to anything else. Wings fold. Long necks and
tails wrestle one another. The ritual begins again.
These are the visions filling Valkyr’s and Lyra’s eyes as they embrace. Their
sensations are shared with the dragons that are their life partners. Lyra draws her
nails deep across Valkyr’s sweaty back. Bjorgon snaps at Skyhalla’s neck. Valkyr
frames Lyra’s face with his masculine hands. Skyhalla’s tail grips tightly to
Bjorgon’s as they hurtle towards the earth. The humans shudder in their bed as
they see the jagged ground quickly approaching. The dragons depart from one
another just in time. It is done. The warm fire gently sizzles in the hearth of the
bedchamber.
Chapter 8
Nakira’s skin begins to crawl. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Her pupils dilate to penetrate the darkness. She reaches for the door. It opens
abruptly of its own accord. The air rushes about her as if the seal to a vacuum tight
space has just been ruptured. A thin, barely perceptible noise emanates from
beyond. The sound reaches Nakira, an affront from all around. It penetrates to her
very core. It resonates. It calls her name.
Nnnaaakiiirrraaa……..
She gasps as icicle fingers slide over her shoulders from behind. She stiffens,
every muscle in her body taught with anticipation. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t
breathe.
“I’m so glad you decided to come home, my child.” The voice is as smooth as
glass. The frigid digits linger. One finger starts to tap a pointed nail upon Nakira’s
collarbone. A white face emerges over her opposite shoulder. “I was beginning to
worry,” he whispers as she half turns her head in his direction, his mouth only
inches from her neck. Nakira instinctively closes her eyes in response to his
hypnotic tones. She forces them back open.
“I had a late supper,” she manages to say, her fear not showing in her words.
His hands glide to the sides of her shoulders and slowly turn her to face him.
“So I noticed.” He closes his eyes and takes in the scent through his long,
narrow nose. His eyes open and peer deep into hers. “This one was very
intoxicated, a homeless wino, perhaps?” His face draws in a concerned
expression; a seeming sympathy towards Nakira’s latest kill. “Still….better for us
to take one that will go unnoticed to the teaming masses above.” He kisses her
forehead then holds her at arm’s length and smiles pleasantly.
“It’s late, I am very tired, Vlad.” She manages a weak smile then looks down
toward her feet.
“Yes. The sun is rising as we speak. You do look a little worn out. I suppose it
can wait until this evening. Let’s eat at home, shall we? Join me in the dining hall
when you wake. Good night, Nakira.” Vlad gently squeezes her hands and then
disappears down the dark corridor. Nakira is left standing alone in the dark. A
deep chill from within causes her to shiver. She enters her room and latches the
door.
Chapter 9
The sun rises over Alden Forest and all its splendor is revealed in the dawn’s
light. Birds emerge from the endless sea of trees. The Aldin River sparkles and
flows as it meanders through the green landscape. A few mountain peaks protrude
above the tree line. Sparx appears at the mouth of the cave. She blinks out again.
She bursts out of thin air at the river bend where the campsite was last night.
There is no trace of what happened. She starts following the hoof prints in the
direction from which they came.
Sparx catches the glint of something shiny in the water from the corner of her
eye. She hovers directly over the source of her curiosity. Sparx is only six inches
tall and the water here is several feet deep. She takes a deep breath and pinches
her nose. Just as she is about to dive in,the shiny object suddenly springs to the
surface. Sparx disappears an instant before the large fish snaps its mouth in the air
where she had been, some kind of lure dangling in front of its head. Apparently
this is how it attracts its next meal. This one got away. The fish slips silently back
to the bottom.
Her mind seeks safety. She pictures the gently bowing ferns. She sees the dewdropped moss. She hears the trickle of a peaceful brook. Inwardly, Sparx smiles,
the memories of her homeland come flooding back. Pop! She is there, her shiny
attacker gone.
She puts a hand to her heart and exhales sharply. The pixie is now hovering
near a toadstool and comes to rest on it; legs dangling over the mushroom cap.
She splays her palms against the fungal surface behind her and looks up at the
bright green fern overhead. A ray of sunlight strikes her face through an opening
in the dense vegetation. She is home.
Wysteria Island is a small island in the Southern Ocean. The temperatures are
mild and rains drizzle in the late afternoons almost daily. The clouds give way
easily to reveal a spectacular sunset most evenings. No humans have set foot on
this island paradise. This is the enchanted home of the magical creatures known as
pixies.
People only rarely get to see these tiny beings. Many legends have been passed
down the generations, mostly bedtime stories for stubborn children fighting sleep.
Pixies are thought only to exist in myth, but they are real.
Most pixies have left Wysteria Island, as their curious nature promotes the
explorer within, but since their homeland offers unparalleled security, they will
often teleport here whenever startled or attacked.
Pixies can share images of places they have been with others of their kind.
Parents often gift their offspring with visions of far off places as the children near
maturity. There are few places in the world that a pixie cannot make the jump to.
Sparx sets her wings in motion. She hovers above the toadstool, looks this way
and that. She follows the small brook up the crest of the hill. A single oak tree
claims this peak. Its branches and leaves expand to provide shade for most of the
hilltop.
Sparx pauses to take in the panoramic view. Beyond the oak, the hill gently
rolls back down again. Lush green grasses give way to thicker, more substantial
growth. The slope is swallowed in shrubs and trees for several miles downhill.
Then, the land appears again as white sands meet a sparkling turquoise sea. The
pixie beams in delight. The beauty of her homeland never fails to brighten her.
After taking a few minutes to absorb the vista, Sparx turns back to the oak tree.
She blinks out and reappears in a hollow within the great tree. She provides her
own illumination to the dark space.
The hollow has multiple levels. Each level is separated by a wooden floor. The
first floor has a large table with stools all around. There are cupboards built into
the walls of the hollow. Everything is to scale for the pixie. She floats up through
a notch in the ceiling and finds herself on the next floor up. Couches and a
reclining chair adorn the room. A curving bookshelf follows the contours of the
wall. Sparx ascends one more level. This room is already lit by two knotholes in
the tree opposite from one another. A toy chest sits open in the middle of the floor.
Sparx hovers over it and picks up an old teddy bear with button eyes. She hugs it
to her face, smiles and inhales the familiar scent while closing her eyes; a moment
or reminiscence before reluctantly returning the stuffed animal to its resting place.
She flutters out through one of the knotholes and flies to the outside of the tree, up
to where the first of the branches split off from the trunk.
Supported between the main three branches is the base of what appears to be a
tree house. Since pixies are only about the size of an adult human’s hand, this
arboreal dwelling seems more on the scale of a large birdhouse. The structure has
a cottage look to it, complete with thatched roof. As Sparx nears the humble
abode, she notices a pleasant smell emanating from an open window - oatmeal
cookies! The pixie’s whole face lights up as she rushes to the front door and
knocks vigorously.
It takes a few moments, but the door slowly opens to reveal an elderly female
pixie. She is slightly hunched forward. A small wrinkled hand holds the doorknob
and her other hand is supported by a cane. Her wings are not in motion, but rather
droop limply against her back. She glows, as all pixies do, but hers is only a faint
one. Her little face is well lined with age and sports thick spectacles that magnify
her steely blue eyes. Her silver hair is pulled up in a bun. She recognizes her
great-granddaughter at once. Although the pixie language is unintelligible to
human ears, the following conversation is in English for the reader’s benefit.
“Hi grandma!” Sparx buzzes right into the older pixie to embrace her in a hug.
“Hello, dear,” Grandma replies while returning the hug with her one free arm.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you again. Come in dear. I’m baking some cookies. I
never know when some of you kids will pop in.” Grandma takes a couple of steps
back and Sparx follows her nose to the kitchen. Grandma shuts the door and then
hobbles after her.
Once in the kitchen, Grandma busies herself with getting the cookies out of the
oven. Sparx hovers nearby in eager anticipation. “How have you been, Grandma?
Are you the only one staying here, now?” Sparx looks a little concerned as
Grandma sets the tray to cool.
Yes, dear. I’m the only one left. I get by alright, though. I do love it when I
get visitors. You all come by often to check on me. It is so exciting to hear all of
your stories. What have you been up to, Sparx?” Grandma looks deeply at her
great-granddaughter, taking her all in as if she had grown up so much since last
seeing her.
Sparx gingerly retrieves a cookie, blowing on it to speed the cooling. She takes
a bite, cherishing the flavor. Once she clears her palate she says, “I’ve made some
new friends.”
“Oh? What are they like?” Grandma looks a little apprehensive. She has seen
much of the world in her lifetime before coming home to Wysteria Island to raise a
family. Although she knows there are many wonders to be found, she is also
aware that not everyone is as innocent and trusting as Sparx.
After finishing her first cookie and picking up another, Sparx pauses with the
treat halfway to her mouth. She looks up towards the ceiling as she recalls Nick
and Drake. “Nick is like no one I’ve ever met before.” Sparx has a dreamy, far
away expression. “He’s just so……perfect.” She smiles widely and sighs. She
nibbles at the cookie, and then looks at Grandma earnestly. “He needs me. It’s
just him and Drake and they’re all alone.”
Grandma pulls a cup down from the shelf. She looks thoughtfully at the pot of
nectar slowly bubbling over the fire. She reaches for the ladle to scoop some of the
warm, sweet substance. She hesitates briefly in thought, and then pours the nectar
from the ladle to the cup. “You know, Sparx, it sounds like you’re very taken with
this….Nick, is it?” She hands the cup to Sparx. “Where is he from?”
“I’m not sure. I found him and Drake in Aldin Forest. They were living in this
cave I like to go to sometimes.”
“Aldin Forest? A cave? Of what kind is Nick? That sounds like a human
name.” Grandma’s concern increases. “Is he human?”
“Actually, Grandma, he’s a vampire. Drake is his dragon,” Sparx says
sheepishly.
“A vampire! A dragon! Oh, Sparx, what are you getting yourself into?”
Grandma’s astonishment causes Sparx to grab her hands in reassurance.
No, Grandma! They’re very nice. They don’t belong anywhere. They only
have each other…..and me.” Sparx’s pleading face causes Grandma to finally sigh
resignedly.
“Be careful, dear. There is much in this world that you don’t understand yet.”
Grandma pours a cup of nectar for herself. “Sparx, please give me the image of
the cave. I want all the family to have it. Vampires and dragons have been at war
with one another from back when I was your age. Dragon men ride dragons. They
hunt the vampires to protect the humans. I’ve never heard of a vampire and a
dragon coexisting peacefully. Where is this Drake’s rider?” She takes a long drink
from her cup and looks at Sparx expectantly.
“Nick is Drake’s rider, Grandma. They are different. They don’t belong to
either the vampires or the dragon men. Don’t worry about me, Grandma. I always
disappear when there’s trouble. You’ve all taught me well.” Sparx notices the late
afternoon sun outside. “Grandma, I need to get back. I will give you the image of
the cave, but please don’t send anyone. Nick can’t understand us anyways and
Drake only barely gets what I tell him. I will be fine, really.”
Grandma nods her head solemnly. “I know you will, dear. Promise me you
will come home if you need help,” the old pixie pleads.
“I promise, Grandma.” Sparx kisses her grandma on the cheek, and then hugs
her goodbye. She sparkles out of the air, leaving grandma standing alone.
“Goodbye, Sparx,” Grandma whispers as she gazes out the window to the vast
sea in the distance.
CHAPTER 10
The dream is always the same. The familiar figure stoops before Nick: her
expressions of sorrow, fear, and love burn deep into his being. She holds him by
his small shoulders. She is telling him something very important. She is looking
him directly in the eyes. Hers are a deep blue and Nick can see the pain in them.
He doesn’t understand, but he nods anyways. He is scared. He doesn’t want to
leave her.
Drake is there too. The dragon is much smaller than now. He senses Nick’s
emotions and nudges the boy with his muzzle affectionately.
Nick rushes forward and clings to the woman tightly. He can hear her sobs as
she returns the embrace. He is crying too.
There is a noise. The woman looks worriedly over her shoulder. Hurried steps
sound from below. She turns her face back to her son. Nick can see the urgency in
the look she gives him. Quickly, she sets the protesting boy on his young dragon.
She whispers something to Drake. He turns a gleaming, ruby eye to the boy and
looks back to Nick’s mother.
The footsteps grow closer.
Wings start to flap. Nick wraps an arm around Drake’s neck. The boy presses
the side of his head firmly to the dragon. He reaches his other hand down towards
his mother. Through tearful eyes, he can see her face getting smaller as he and
Drake fly higher. Soon, she is only a white dot in the night, and then she is gone.
He feels something warm and wet on his face. He brushes a pale arm across his
cheek in irritation. His eyes are still closed when the sensation is repeated. The
forked tongue retracts. Nick’s nose crinkles in response to the odor. He is awake
now, but his lids remain closed as he pulls the cover over his head.
“Uck” he protests. “You ever heard the term dragon breath? There’s a reason
that’s never used as a compliment.”
Drake gives Nick’s covered figure a little push with the tip of his snout.
(Drake) Let’s eat. I’m Hungry.
Nick throws the covers back and props himself upon one elbow. He glares at
his friend in mock anger and then smiles easily and laughs. “You might want to
try brushing some time.”
Just then Sparx pops into the cave. She greets her friends in her strange pixie
tongue. She buzzes behind Drake and scratches his favorite spot behind his ear.
The dragon lifts his head and closes his eyes, crooning his equivalent to a cat’s
purr.
The pixie flies over to Nick, who is now standing, folding the blanket. She
starts whistling and humming as she licks her palm and tries to tame Nick’s bed
head.
“Good morning, Sparx. Or evening, I guess,” he says as he takes her hint and
starts running his fingers through his hair. “Find anything interesting for us
today?”
“Twirp! Zzz!”
(Drake) She says it will take a while for us to fly there.
Nick is strapping the riding gear onto Drake. “Guess we’ll have to eat on the
go.” This was starting to become standard operating procedure. He mounts his
ride and they take off after Sparx as she nears the cave’s opening.
Once airborne, the trio follow the meandering Aldin River. The moon shows
faintly through overcast skies. Dusk gives way to a very dark evening.
CHAPTER 11
Lyra descends the stone steps to the dragon keep, her leather riding gear
squeaking with the movement. She carries her wool-lined jacket slung over one
shoulder. Her head is adorned with wild, red hair, the fiery curls jostling against
her slender shoulders with each step. As she reaches the bottom and enters the
keep, her brilliant green eyes seek her life companion at the stables they had agreed
to meet at.
“Skyhalla, I’m here, where are you?” Lyra calls as she enters the large stall.
She hangs her riding coat from a hook on the wall, then turns to look in the
direction of the corridor leading to the dragon’s lair. She places her hands on her
hips expectantly.
Just then, two bright blue spheres penetrate the darkness of the corridor. The
orbs are moving up and down rhythmically as they grow closer. The torchlight of
the keep finally reaches the advancing indigo eyes to reveal they are set in a
creamy white dragon’s head. Though the queen is as large as Bjorgon, her
movements are as graceful as a swan. Skyhalla carries with her an aura of regality
befitting to her status at Highland Den.
(Skyhalla) I became famished on my way here. I had to send Bjorgon to
retrieve some fresh venison. I hope I haven’t kept you too long.
“It must be nice to be able to gorge the way you do. I haven’t been able to keep
anything down all morning,” Lyra recalls her queasy stomach after an attempt at
breakfast.
The queen dragon sniffs her rider then finishes entering the stall. Lyra dunks a
wooden bucket in a naturally occurring hot spring at the far end of the stable. She
pours in a generous amount of soap sand from a tall vile from a shelf on the wall.
Next, she grabs a sturdy bristled brush from a pegboard and dips it in the bucket.
With two hands, Lyra starts rubbing the soapy brush on Skyhalla’s pearl hide,
making circular motions and then soaking the brush in the bucket again and
repeating the process.
(Skyhalla) You’re feeling better now, the queen observes as she watches Lyra
soaping her hide.
“Yes, but I am quite hungry. I’ve brought some bread crusts with me I thought
I would try to eat once we are in the fresh air,” Lyra says thoughtfully. “Try not to
breathe your meat breath on me though, your highness. I might end up having to
wash you again.” Lyra laughs and then dumps the remaining liquid from the
bucket over Skyhalla’s back. She continues the gentle scrubbing, making her way
toward the tucked wing.
The dragon decides to make herself useful by gripping the pail’s rope handle
between her front teeth and scooping another bucket full of warm water. She sets
it at Lyra’s feet, careful not to exhale any of her last meal out of consideration of
her rider’s morning sickness, but also because Skyhalla didn’t want any of Lyra’s
stomach contents fouling her beautiful, white hide. Dragons are rather fastidious
about their cleanliness; a queen dragon even more so.
(Skyhalla) The water feels wonderful, Lyra! I could do this all day!
“Oh no! This might be enjoyable for your Worshipfulness, but my arms and
shoulders are already quite sore, thank you very much.” Lyra dunks the still soapy
brush in the clean water. She takes a break, rolls her head to loosen her neck and
stretches her shoulders.
A booming, male voice sounds from the open stable door. “Giving our queen
the royal treatment, I see.” Valkyr is leaning his heavy frame against the door,
thick arms folded over his chest.
“I carry the same rank as Skyhalla,” Lyra declares, flicking her unruly red mane
off her shoulder. She holds out the scrub brush to Valkyr. “Here, your queen
requests your service,” she says haughtily.
Valkyr bellows his deep, infectious laugh. He takes the brush obligingly,
winking a mischievous eye at Lyra. “A man’s work is never done,” he says
teasingly.
“Oh, please!” Lyra exclaims. She steps aside as the hulking man takes to
working the lather into the dragon’s under-wing area. Then she adds, “If you men
did half the work of us women, it would be a miracle.”
“What say you, Skyhalla? Do you find that to be true for dragon kind?” Valkyr
asks raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
(Skyhalla) All serve their queen equally, whether they be male or female. As for
who is more efficient, it depends upon the task.
Valkyr waits patiently for Lyra to share the telepathic message, since he is only
linked to Bjorgon. Lyra decides to take her own slant on the queen’s thoughts.
“She is in agreement with me.”
“Uh huh,” comes Valkyr’s skeptical response. He has worked his way to
Skyhalla’s hindquarters when Bjorgon decides to pop his mega-cranium into the
rapidly crowding room. His glowing, emerald eyes look confusedly between the
other three.
(Bjorgon) I come at a bad time?
“Well, if it isn’t another big, useless oaf!” Lyra begins. She is smiling as she
chides Bjorgon. “I don’t think there’s enough room in here for the four of us, big
fella.” She motions to the cramped quarters. Skyhalla’s blue eyes swirl at the
sight of her mate.
(Skyhalla) Look, Bjorgon! I am all shiny and clean! The queen partially
extends her wings to emphasize her meaning.
“Well, Bjorgon and I are all ready for today’s scout,” Valkyr says as he dumps
the last of the bucket on Skyhalla. “We’ll let you two finish up while we wait by
the hangar.” He tosses the brush in the pail and hands them back to Lyra.
“Just like a man,” Lyra says incredulously. “Puts in five minutes of work and
thinks the job is done.”
Valkyr pats his hand against Bjorgon’s cheek and points in the direction of the
hangar. “Come my friend, there is a hostile estrogen overload in here.”
“Hmmph!” Lyra’s eye burn into the back of Valkyr’s head as he and Bjorgon
retreat towards the hangar. She stands there, fuming, with her fists clenched at her
sides.
(Skyhalla) could you wash my belly too?
patting her stomach with her front paws.
The queen rolls onto her side,
“Oh, blow it out your ass, Queenie!” Lyra hurtles the brush and bucket in the
hot spring, sending a cascade of water over the dragon’s face. She grabs her jacket
and storms out of the stable.
(Skyhalla) She is definitely feeling better.
CHAPTER 12
The dining hall, like most of the other functional rooms in the catacombs, had
been converted to suit the needs of its latest residents. The room features a long,
rectangular table, cut immaculately from an enormous slab of basalt. The
matching chairs were sculpted exquisitely from the remains of the original black
chunk of dense rock. The centerpiece of the dining table is a sterling silver
candelabra, polished to perfection. The red wax of the candles contrasts nicely
with the near mirror finish of their holder and compliment the velvety cloth of the
same color that separates the candelabra from the ebony table. Two place settings
are all that are present though there are seats enough for a dozen. The placemats
are of the same material and color as the one under the centerpiece. The plates,
silverware, and chalice at either setting match the candelabra in metal and
unblemished reflectivity.
Nakira pauses at the archway leading into the dining room. She sees with
nervous apprehension the lack of others, most notably the one who summoned her.
The hall is adequately lit by six strategically placed torches along the length of the
room, three on each side directly across from one another. The candles in the
centerpiece are unlit. She observes the place settings and decides on the one to her
right. She proceeds ahead and pulls the heavy chair back. It glides smoothly away
from the table without the expected scraping sound against the stone floor. She
glances in either direction of the hallways leading here, doesn’t see anyone
approaching and seats herself anyways.
As she scoots her chair forward, a chill breeze rushes the air. The torches
flicker and then extinguish, casting the room in darkness. Nakira gasps. Suddenly,
the wicks of the black candles ignite, causing their shadows to dance upon the red
cloth underneath. A fine mist curls over the back of Nakira’s chair, skims the top
of her head and settles in the seat opposite her. The phantom fog coalesces and
begins to take form. Long, delicate hands appear at either side of the place setting.
White shirt sleeve cuffs dart out contrastingly from a black dinner jacket. The
collar lapel creases sharply and reveals the rest of the white, formal shirt in
between. An alabaster face takes shape, the long, narrow nose complimented by
charcoal eyes burning on either side. The widow’s peak emerges prominently
from the high forehead, slicked back to a wet sleekness. A knowing smile is
highlighted by twin canine incisors, impossibly long and shiny in their porcelain
perfection.
“Good evening, Nakira,” Vlad offers welcomingly. It’s as if he had been seated
across from her all along.
Nakira shuffles in her seat uneasily. Clearly, Vlad’s unusual entrances never
quite set well with her. As ‘father’ of the ‘family’, Vlad had unparalleled powers.
As superhuman as Nakira would seem to mortals, her ancient creator possessed
abilities displaying the same disparity between himself and his ‘children’.
A wine bottle is encircled in Vlad’s fingers. He pours some of the scarlet
contents into Nakira’s silver chalice. She looks down from his unwavering eyes to
occupy her own with the task he is performing. Vlad rights the bottle to cease the
flow. He hesitates, the vessel still poised to add more at her request. He slightly
tilts his head and raises an eyebrow instead of verbally asking if she desires her cup
to the brim. She hazards a glance at his face and shakes her head in polite refusal,
returning her eyes to the appropriately half full glass. Vlad’s brow creases and he
shrugs a ‘suit yourself’, then proceeds to serve himself.
“Thank you for joining me tonight,” he says at last, returning the wine bottle to
the table. Funny, Nakira hadn’t noticed the container there when she had arrived.
He sips the crimson contents, never averting his attention from her. Nakira nods
slightly, a patient smile on her lips. Seeing that he would have to continue the onesided conversation, Vlad says “Nakira, how are you?”
She looks up at him and frowns. “I’m fine, Vlad.” She thinks to say more but
decides against it.
“You seem…..distant.” His eyes show concern. He takes another quick drink.
He probes a little deeper. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, fine,” She insists. She is beginning to feel more awkward. She takes a
long draw from her own cup. She forces a smile that she doesn’t feel.
Vlad sighs in mock defeat as he adjusts his strategy. “You know how much I
care for you, don’t you, Nakira? I only ever want you to feel welcome. You are as
much a part of the family as anyone.” His wrists are raised slightly from the table,
palms open towards the ceiling. His facial expression pleads to her in a subtle
implication that she has some degree of power over him, if only in his desire to
please her.
Nakira had been down this road before with Vlad. His manipulative tricks had
gotten the best of her over the years. A sudden rush of anger causes her cheeks to
flush. Her eyes narrow in accusation. She starts to open her mouth to speak. No,
she will not rise to the occasion. He knows her well, too well. But she is not
completely helpless in his presence, unlike the rest of them. She takes a deep
breath and then manages to get her words out coolly. “Thank you, Vlad. But I am
fine, really.”
Instead of replying right away, Vlad sits there silently. A slight look of
dejection shows. He taps his index finger against his silver chalice from the same
hand that holds it. He stares appraisingly at Nakira. This time, she doesn’t avert
her eyes. Seeing that he is making no headway, Vlad decides to change the
subject. “I will be leaving tomorrow to visit my other families. I am placing Soren
and Torr in charge in my absence. I do hope you will respect their authority.”
“Is something wrong?” This is Vlad’s central location. He usually manages
everything from here, having messengers to send his orders through.
“Oh, everything is fine…..really.” He echoes her words. This fact does not go
unnoticed by Nakira. He can see this has piqued her curiosity. “I like to check in
on the other houses, personally, from time to time.” Vlad can see Nakira is not
buying it, but offers no further explanation.
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. Did you need me for something?” Vlad takes another drink.
It is true that all vampires created by Vlad’s bite feel the need to be near him. It
is a concept difficult for humans to understand, since there is no direct analogy
comparable for people. It is nothing like a child requiring its mother. It is
something more subtle, yet deeply ingrained in the existence of vampires. It is said
that angels ache a physical pain, when they are away from God. This is not quite
the same, but there is no closer correlation.
Nakira shakes her head, no, returning her gaze to her place setting.
Well, then,” Vlad says cheerily, beaming at Nakira as if everything was settled.
“Thank you for joining me this evening, Nakira. Think about what we discussed,
and if there is anything you would like to share when I return, you know I will be
here for you.” Vlad raises his glass as if to toast, then gulps down the last of its
contents. He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “Good night,
Nakira.” He says and then strides out the hall opposite to one Nakira entered.
Nakira looks uneasily after his departing figure. She clasps her cup in both
hands, holding it to her mouth and drinking to steady her nerves.
Numbering jumps to page 33 but it is chapter 13 so should be okay
CHAPTER 13
Koalpan Bend is a small trading village on the shores of the Aldin River at the
point where the waters narrow and become more shallow upriver. Boat travelers
have to stop here to exchange their watercraft for either horses or for smaller boats,
such as canoes or kayaks. Usually the former option is preferential since their
journeys up river would be against the current.
The Koalpans that inhabit the area are a primate-like people. Most adults reach
only about four feet in height. Their bodies are covered in thick fur and their ears
are situated atop their heads. This combination of non-human traits gives the
Koalpans a decidedly bear cub-like appearance, though they lack the elongated
snout that would typically be associated with that animal.
Unlike bears, Koalpans have developed a spoken language and written
numerical symbols to aid them in their preferred means of existence – barter and
trade. In fact, many a human have been surprised in their first encounter with the
Koalpans that a seemingly cute and fuzzy creature would have such shrewd
business skills.
The settlement at Koalpan Bend was, in fact, chosen specifically due to the
inherent needs of the weary traveler. Faced with the prospect of having to abandon
their larger water vessel and commit to walking the remainder of their trek, most
will choose instead to conduct business with the Koalpans: docking for the boat,
fresh supplies, lodging for the night, and of course, a new means of transportation.
As Nick, Drake, and Sparx near the river village, they could see the signature
suspended bridge over the narrow portion of the Aldin River. The pedestrian
viaduct bowed gently in the center and was fastened on either end to the immense
redwoods that flanked the water artery of the forest. Torches lit the bridge termini,
revealing the wooden sidewalks encircling the giant trees. Lights shown from
windows and doorways leading inside the redwoods. The Koalpans resided within
the arboreal confines, well above ground level.
At the river docks, a small group of humans tie on their sailing yachts and are
greeted by two of the cub-like Koalpans. There are no other water craft
approaching and it looks as if business is winding down for the evening.
Drake lands a safe distance from the bridge. Nick dismounts and addresses his
companions. “I’m going to check in and secure us a place for tomorrow. Sparx,
see if you can snoop around and determine if they are here. Drake, try to stay
hidden until I come back. I’m going to see if they have of one of those tree base
barns available for our shelter”.
Sparx blinks out. Drake squeezes into the dense forest and Nick starts towards
the village.
The Koalpans at the dock had just ushered the people from the river yacht
towards the inn when they see Nick approaching. It was not uncommon for people
to return to Koalpan Bend from upriver, and though the furry creatures did not
recognize Nick, there was nothing unusual in his arrival to draw any suspicions.
Nick speaks first. “Evening. How’s it going? I need a place for the night for
myself, my horses and supplies. The largest barn or stables you have please”.
One of the Koalpans points a stubby, fur covered paw in the direction of the inn
and says, “Wub-wub.”
Nick stares in the direction the little bear-like animal is indicating. The last
group of people are just closing the door behind them as they enter the base of the
nearest giant redwood. The porch leading to the check in desk is lit by a lantern on
either side of the door. Nick turns back to the dock greeters and acknowledges by
saying, “Thanks”. He then heads in the indicated direction.
Sparx glides along the roofline of the inn. The hotel is built firmly between the
two largest redwoods and is comprised mostly of the same type of wood. She
nears the window of the last room on the top floor. It is dark within and she strains
to make out any movements inside. She can’t tell if there is anything or not.
She blinks out.
When she reappears, she is in the room. Her own glow provides her with
enough light to determine that no one is in the front part. The beds are neatly
made. There are no bags or cases indicating personal possessions and she is the
only one there.
She starts towards the back room when she hears a voice from outside the front
door.
“Yes Kaw, my pretty. Here is our room now”. It is a sinister sounding male
voice, but his tone is soothing to his companion.
His friend responds. “Ku-KAA!” Sparx recognizes this second voice is not
human. She blinks out again and this time appears outside and just around the
corner from the man with the crow on his shoulder, just as he opens the door and
enters his room. Sparx pokes her head out enough to see the odd pair in the
torchlight of the veranda before they disappear into the room. The man is very tall
and thin. His face is weathered and long, gray hair plays about his shoulders. His
weight is partially supported by an ornate walking cane. Markings adorn the shaft
and Sparx can see part of the bulbous handle through the man’s fingers. It is a
transparent amber encasing something that is a dull ivory that she can’t quite make
out in the brief second of her glimpse.
The crow is the most unsettling of Sparx’s observations. It is perched on the
man’s right shoulder. The black scavenger is as large as the man’s head. It cocks
its own towards its master and emits another “KAW’. As the flickering light
catches the bird’s eyes the instant before they pass through the doorway, Sparx
sees the windows to the soulless beast are a dull crimson.
*******
Nick sees the yacht people leaving the inn’s registry. They are carrying their
packs containing what Nick assumes to be their overnight items. They look tired
and head up the outside staircase to the second floor of the lodge. He notes they
occupy the first two rooms at the end of the inn. They close their doors as Nick
enters the range of the lantern light outside the office.
Once inside, Nick takes in his surroundings. The smell is pleasant, that of cut
redwood. The walls are rounded with stacked logs. Lanterns are at either end of
the room, plus one in the middle behind the Koalpan innkeeper. The counter
separating Nick from the short fuzzy creature only comes to Nick’s waist, but is at
chest level for the Koalpan.
The little being greets Nick. “Ooh! Rug-rug!” It slaps its little paws on the
countertop and grins, revealing bear-like teeth below a small, black button nose.
“I need your largest barn or stable for the night”, Nick explains. He looms a
good foot and three quarters over the Koalpan and tries not to let his size seem
threatening.
If the innkeeper was afraid of Nick, it certainly didn’t show it. Its large, black
eyes show understanding and the brown, fuzzy head nods in acknowledgment.
“Tooka tin-tin,” it says holding up two stubby digits.
Nick loosens a small, leather satchel from his belt and produces a miniscule
nugget of gold. “Is this enough?” he asks as he hands the metal over to the
Koalpan.
“Ahh? Gimme goo!” The creature’s face lights up and a quick paw snatches
the gold. It places it between its teeth and bites down. Then, removing the metal,
the Koalpan scrutinizes it to verify authenticity. Satisfied with the payment
received, the innkeeper says “Te wanna wonga.” It then hobbles over to a
pegboard and retrieves a set of keys from the bottom rung. The keys are notably
larger than the others displayed on the wall.
Accepting the keys from the Koalpan, Nick notices the emblem engraved into
the leather holder portraying a large barn like door in the base of a big tree stump.
“Thank you”, Nick acknowledges pleasantly, holding up the keys for show.
“Danga,” replies the innkeeper with a nod, indicating business is concluded and
a paw motion toward the door dismissing Nick.
The young vampire nods his understanding and turns towards the office’s exit.
***************
Drake is surprisingly stealthy considering his size. As Nick had requested, he
has found a spot in the vast redwood forest to hide. His distance from the
settlement and river is sufficient enough that no one has crossed his path in the
time his friends have been gone.
Occasionally, the dragon will crane his neck around the giant tree to try and
catch a glimpse of the Koalpan Inn. Nick has not called yet, so Drake continues to
patiently wait.
He hears a rumbling accompanied by hunger pains. They had ventured out this
evening without feeding and Drake’s body is reminding him of its needs.
A branch snaps nearby and Drake’s head immediately swivels to track the
auditory input. His glowing ruby eyes are reduced to elongated slits as his eyelids
strain to locate the being responsible for the break in silence. At first, there is
nothing. Perhaps a thin branch on a tree had succumbed to its own weight.
Another long moment passes. Then, a rustling of leaves causes the dragon to
slightly readjust the direction of his gaze. The lighting is very poor, but slowly,
ever so slowly, Drake’s keen vision pinpoints the source.
A large stag emerges from the concealing brush, its proud display of antlers
announces its health and longevity. It sniffs the cool night air – ears perked and on
high alert. Unaware of the proximity of danger, the beast turns its attention to the
vegetation it had just been using as a shelter: it gingerly nibbles at the closest
leaves.
Drake can hear his heart thundering within. His respiration haults and the vasoconstriction causes his blood pressure to soar. Every sense is heightened: his scaly
flesh tingles. Drake crouches low, his body and muzzle practically touching the
ground. The powerful muscles of his legs are coiled and await the command.
Suddenly the stag rears its head – its jaw stops chewing the leaves. Unable to
pinpoint any immediate threat, it turns back to the bush.
The scent of the stag’s blood has now become all of Drake’s focus. His thirst
sets him on fire. Without a single sound and barely any disruption of the air
surrounding his immense but sleek figure, Drake unleashes his power – muscular
limbs springing in unison. He compresses his open jaw so quickly on the stag’s
neck, the deer doesn’t even have time to turn its head towards its attacker. Drake’s
teeth puncture all the way, mandible and maxilla meeting with a deafening crack.
The portion of the stag’s head protruding from the left side of Drake’s jaw
explodes – blood, bone and grey matter splattering to the ground.
Drake’s front claws wrap around the body and simultaneously raise and squeeze
the dead beast- the pressure forcing the hot, thick fluid into the dragon’s hungry
mouth. The stag’s corpse noticeably shrivels during this process, until not a drop
of its blood remains.
Startled by the sight of the blood eyed crow and eager to report her findings to
Nick, Sparx waits until the old man and bird are well inside their room and the
door closed before she teleports back to the rendezvous spot.
She is the first to arrive, but sees Nick’s figure emerge from the Inn’s office
soon enough. She flutters an erratic path up to her friend and starts buzzing and
humming in her strange tongue.
“Hold on, Sparx. You know I can’t understand you,” Nick explains to the
energetic pixie. Then, he mentally reaches out to Drake:
Drake, come on back. I’ve got the keys.
Within a minute’s time, the luminous eyes of the dragon appear from the forest
and rapidly grow as Drake closes the distance to his companions.
Nick notices the scent of fresh blood at once. “Ate without me, I smell,” Nick
reprimands. “Don’t suppose you saved any?”
(Drake) Sorry, I was starving.
Drake lowers his head in shame, realizing that he had only thought of his own
thirst.
Nick produces a bladder bag from his knapsack and holds it at arm’s length and
slightly above his head. “Good thing I have some rations,” he explains, removing
the stopper and swigging the contents. “Aah, that hits the spot.” Nick wipes his
mouth and corks the bladder. “And now my friends, if you’ll follow me…...” he
returns the bag to the backpack and jangles the barn keys.
The trio starts off in the direction of a very large redwood stump near the rear of
the village and on the fringe of where the forest becomes very dense.
Sparx starts in again with her gibberish and this time Drake is there to interpret.
(Drake) She found what she was looking for, Nick.
The vampire regards Sparx with surprise. His face draws into a determined
expression. “Right,” Nick says in his leader tone. “Let’s get settled and I’ll figure
out a plan.”
CHAPTER 14
Though Vlad was unable to teleport, he could travel across great distances at
velocities unattainable by even the quickest of dragons when he assumed an
incorporeal vapor.
The Northern Sea is a large body of water that separates the continent of Finden
from the polar snowy wastes. Vlad’s headquarters lie in the catacombs of the city
of Rayjlandic, located at the North-eastern end of Finden. This is from where he
usually rules vampire kind – usually……..
A slightly glowing fog hastens above the frigid waters. Its rapid pace belies the
relatively calm winds of the evening. Mile after mile of dark liquid passes
beneath. A speck of light appears on the eastern horizon - a warm glow in the cold
night. The illumination grows as the formless apparition closes the distance. The
light enlarges to the point where discernable fragments appear, revealing the fact
that there are multiple sources. Darker shadows surround the glow, darker than the
sky and void of heavenly stars. The utter black void is between the air and the sea.
The moonlight glimmers off of lighter features, jutting above the ebony horizon. A
topography starts to emerge; the lunar glow off the sea delineates a coastline. The
lights announce the Port of Frios. Dramatic snow-capped peaks faintly glow
beyond the small city.
The vapor reaches the port. It rifles among the sails of the docked vessels. It
floats above the wood planks of the pier and flows on toward the boardwalk as
merchants and fisherman go about their business, unaware of the ancient evil
trespassing mere yards above their heads.
It presses on, gliding over cobblestoned streets now. A mare pulling a coach
becomes spooked, screeching and rearing up, its rider futily attempting to calm the
beast that won’t be stilled until after the vapor departs.
Gaslamps flicker, banners billow and flap, and pine needles and branches rustle
and sway on trees. Lit windows speed by, becoming a blur. One street leads to the
next; a left here, a right there - faster and faster. There is an urgency. A dark alley
is selected. An unsuspecting hobo wraps himself tightly in his multitude of
blankets to shelter himself from the bitter chill. A mere gasp escapes as the evil
fog envelopes him. His form becomes obscured. Not even a moment later, his
scream is cut short. The mist continues on, its victim a dry husk – empty eye
sockets gazing up to a place they’ll never know.
The vapor swirls over an iron grate in the ground, its essence descending down
into the bowels beneath the sleepy town.
Unlike larger cities, The Port of Frios did not have an intricate catacomb
network. The vampires that inhabited these parts made do in the sewers. They did
not run as deep or cover nearly as much area as Vlad’s home in Rayjlandic, but the
locale did serve in other ways.
Port of Frios is the closest human settlement to Highland Den, home of the
Dragon men North. Many supplies are shipped here for Dragonkind.
The Dragon men and the magnificent beast they ride are the sworn protectors of
the human settlements. They are the only force keeping the vampires from ruling
the world. In exchange, people pay tribute to their protectors. This small, northern
port basically exists to ensure the treaty is kept.
As Vlad slips into the cold, dank sewers, he seeks the central pumping station.
As his vaporous form passes his various spawn throughout the corridors, they
prostrate themselves; foreheads touching the floor. Finally, he comes upon a
relatively large room. A table is present with a dozen vampires seated about. They
all appear slightly on edge as they witness the phosphorous mist seep amongst
them.
There is a seat awaiting the ancient one at the head of the table. The fog
coalesces in the chair and Vlad reassumes his humanoid form.
Vlad senses their apprehension and unease. He can read the looks behind the
thin façade displayed on their faces. Vlad is their creator, but he seldom ventures
out to their remote locale.
His eyes settle upon Antoine, seated at the opposite end of the table. Vlad had
created Antoine many years ago, long before Nakira. Vlad had been observing
Antoine, as a human, for some time.
Long ago, the land of Aldin had been at war with Finden. Both human
kingdoms were determined to conquer the other. Antoine had been Aldin’s
preeminent battle commander. He had never lost a fight.
His notoriety grew in Finden as the years of war continued. Finden’s king
became aware of the whispers among his troops as Antoine’s forces would
continue their victorious streak. He knew that he could not allow his army’s
morale to drop any further and he knew that he needed to find a way to stop
Antoine before his achievements turned to legend.
Ever the opportunist, Vlad struck a deal with the king of Finden. In exchange
for removing Antoine, the king promised to provide Vlad the human victims his
kind required unreported to Dragon kind, but instead of killing Antoine, Vlad
merely turned him into a vampire as he had ulterior motives.
Without their master commander, the Aldin forces soon faltered. Finden
regained its confidence when word of Antoine’s ‘death’ emerged. Soon, the land
of Aldin was under siege, cities and ports succumbing to the continued invasions.
All the while, Vlad groomed his newest creation. Antoine was quick to
appreciate the advantages of being a vampire. Part of the allure for Antoine was
that Vlad promised him he would have his victory over the king of Finden. Of
course, Antoine really didn’t have a choice in the matter.
But Vlad knew that the king of Finden would only keep his promise until he
had achieved victory over the land of Aldin. So, the solution was to make sure that
day never came.
It was easy for Antoine to lead Vlad’s vampires into strategic strikes during the
shift in power of the war. Finden and her king became more euphoric with each
successive victory. As far as they knew, Antoine was dead, Aldin was crumbling
and Vlad was content with the dungeon prisoners supplied to vampire kind
unbeknownst to the Dragon Riders.
Antoine and Vlad began a recruitment campaign. Stray militiamen from either
army were quickly snatched up. The vampire ranks began to swell. Finden’s
armies and navies were occupied in the land of Aldin. Dragon kind had no part in
a war between humans and were, therefore, unaware of Vlad’s recent actions.
On the eve of Finden’s final blow to Aldin, bringing the once formidable
kingdom to its knees, Antoine and an army of vampires laid siege to Castle
Rayjlandic in Finden. Unsuspecting of such a surprise attack and defended by only
the royal guards, Antoine’s forces easily stormed the castle.
The look on the king of Finden’s face was priceless when Antoine burst into his
bed chamber, flanked by his elite vampire warriors. The king was killed and the
vampire feasted well that night.
Of course, Vlad knew this victory would be short lived. Once word got to
Highland Den, the dragons would come. Dragonkind was ever the scourge of
Vlad. This world should be his to rule. Humans were cattle for the slaughter. But
until the day that Vlad could rid the world of dragons forever, his kind would have
to remain in hiding and bide their time.
He scattered the vampire clans throughout the world. Every port and city would
have a faction of his family subsisting below, lurking in the
shadows………waiting.
As Vlad’s eyes settle upon Antoine, seated across the table, a knowing smile
emerges on the master strategists’ face. He did not share the same fear of Vlad as
the others.
“Aah – our guest of honor has arrived!” Antoine announces. “Vlad, please
excuse our meager accommodations. Port of Frios may be many things, but
luxurious is not one of them”.
Vlad nods to Antoine, but does not venture a scan of the modest room in which
they are gathered.
“Antoine, it has been a while. You look well. I see the utilitarianism of these
headquarters agree with you”, Vlad says, motioning to their surroundings.
The others at the table remain silent, their eyes following back and forth as the
verbal exchange ensues.
“Nothing suites me more than being in the thick of the action. It doesn’t get
any closer to the source of our threat than the Port of Frios, that is, without actually
scaling Boldever Mountain”, replies Antoine. A glint in his amber eyes enhances
his smile.
Vlad nods again. Now, he turns his attention to the rest of his audience.
“Thank you all for having me this evening. As you all know, your work here is
very important. I am appreciative of the recent intelligence you have acquired. So,
the dragon queen is pregnant! This is most disturbing news. I am sure you are all
aware of the ramifications that a new clutch represents. If a new queen is hatched,
then we are losing ground. We cannot allow this to happen.
“Our spy at Highland Den tells us that the hot headed rider of the queen will not
adhere to the no fly policy that a pregnant queen is supposed to abide. This is good
news for us…..”
“I present to you, Crow Master Raven…..” Vlad motions to the hall leading to
the chamber.
From the darkness emerges a petite human female. She is stunning, with snow
colored hair, bangs cut across the forehead a little above eyebrows. Her slender
face is like an inverted triangle. Her eyes slant slightly and are a lovely shade of
violet. Her silken robes are of the same shade as her eyes and are decorated with
strange pictographic runes threaded in black. Her feet are adorned in white, woollined boots.
Crow Master Raven snaps her delicate fingers and her black, avian counterpart
glides into the room emitting a resounding “Kaw!” The bird’s blood filled eyes
contrast from its ebony feathers. It finds a ledge to perch from above the vampire
meeting. It kaws again and cocks its head down at its disgruntled observers.
One vampire stands up from her seat and points an accusatory finger at Raven.
“She’s a human!” she hisses.
“Now, now. Please sit down, Penelope,” Vlad commands. The female vampire
complies at once.
“There is no need for alarm. Crow Master Raven is here by my invitation. I
think you will find that she can be quite helpful to our cause,” Vlad says
reassuringly.
Raven steps up to the table, directly at Vlad’s right hand side. Her crow is
silent now, but continues to peer down at everyone. A vampire from the table
looks up uneasily at the bird. Everyone’s attention is drawn to the Crow Master
now.
“Please Raven, tell them what you can do…..” Vlad asks while staring at the
rest of the table’s occupants with mild amusement.
CHAPTER 15
The skies over Highland Den are clear and crisp. All riders have their thick
jacket hoods secure with concealment over their lower faces up to their noses.
Snow- capped peaks stretch as far as the eye can see.
Valkyr rides Bjorgon in protective proximity to Lyra and Skyhalla. His eyes
constantly scan the airs.
Flanking either side of the queen in V-formation are Valkyr’s wing. His wing
consists of a dozen dragons and riders. The beasts vary in size slightly depending
upon color. Valkyr’s Bjorgon and Lyra’s Skyhalla are the largest and burgundy
and white in color respectively. The rest hold their position in the formation in
descending size category: reds, beiges, and blues.
Valkyr’s is not the only wing present. Having a pregnant queen outside
Highland Den is almost unheard of. All of Dragon kind is relying on the new
clutch to bring the next generation of dragons and riders. The possibility of a new
queen exists, as well. The Dragon men do not wish to risk the unthinkable and,
therefore all wings and formations are present. Better than five hundred dragons in
all fill the skies around the queen and Valkyr’s wing.
Valkyr shouts to Lyra over the wind, “How is our queen holding up?”
“I think the fresh air is doing us both good,” Lyra yells back. She pats
Skyhalla’s neck affectionately.
Valkyr’s eyes twinkle with a smile, though his mouth is concealed by the
protective covering. Then to Bjorgon he says, “Have all wings report.”
(Bjorgon) All wings, please report.
All dragons are telepathically linked to their own rider, but they can
communicate easily with any of their own kind through the same medium. The
dragon wing leaders start responding to Bjorgon’s request.
(Corinth) This is Corinth reporting from Alpha Wing….All clear.
(Seth) This is Seth reporting from Beta Wing……All clear.
The reports keep coming back to Bjorgon, one wing at a time, until all wings
have checked in.
(Bjorgon) All wings report all clear, Valkyr.
“Very well, then,” Valkyr says, still scanning the skies uneasily.
Just then a shadow falls upon Valkyr, Bjorgon, Lyra, and Skyhalla. They look
about and notice that it is not just them. Everyone is in the shadow. Valkyr shields
his eyes and looks up at the sun. What he sees takes his breath away.
Lyra sees Valkyr’s stricken expression and follows his gaze upwards. “My
God!” she gasps.
A solid mass of black is nearly eclipsing the sun. Its inky shape is shifting and
writhing, crescents of light escaping around the fringes in the process.
Time seems to stand still as every dragon and rider stares in awe at the spectacle
above. No one can fathom the nature of the phenomena they are witnessing.
The mass is getting closer. Pinholes of sunlight peer out like stars in the night.
A great frenzy of sound washes over the Dragon riders. It is a mixture of shrieks
and a powerful rustling noise.
The uppermost wing closest to the black horde finally reports in to Bjorgon.
(Corinth) – Birds! It’s birds! Must be a hundred thousand or more!
(Bjorgon) Alpha Wing reports that it is birds, Valkyr.
“Birds? How can that be birds? There would have to be tens of thousands of
them to fill the sky like that!” Valkyr exclaims in bewilderment. The words
barely escape his mouth as tendrils of the inky mass begin to dive down on the
foremost dragon ranks. Valkyr stares in disbelief as Alpha and Beta wings
disappear in the envelopment of this aberration of nature.
“Defend yourselves! Evasive maneuvers!” Valkyr screams. Bjorgon relays the
message to all wings with the utmost urgency.
A few brief flashes of flame escape the massive black flocks that have
surrounded the first two wings of dragons. Some burning ebony dots fall from the
fire patches. Then, a burgundy wing lead dragon plummets from the bottom of the
black tendril. The membranous flesh of the poor beat’s wings has been shredded.
It beats them in an act of futility as its descent reaches terminal velocity. It
screeches its death cry as its body hurtles toward the jagged mountain peaks below.
The burgundy’s rider loses grip of the reins as they go into an uncontrolled
spiral. The human ricochets off his dragon and yells in terror at the ground coming
up to meet them.
Their bodies collide with the tip of a massive granite outcropping at better than
a hundred miles an hour. The human explodes upon impact, a small red smear in
the thin snow. The dragon is ripped in half over the jagged mountainous divide.
Entrails steam and spill as they continue their gravity driven ride, transitioning
from air to steep slope.
Lyra averts her eyes from the carnage she has just witnessed. An overwhelming
sense of guilt washes over her. He was here to protect me, her conscience tells her.
Valkyr commands his own wing. “Protect the queen!” He grabs Bjorgon’s
reins hard and the wing follows suite. They start to head back in the direction they
came.
The avian shrieks fill the sky and are enhanced by the storm and thunder of two
hundred thousand feathered wings beating in the noon sky.
Alpha and Beta wings all suffer the same fate as the burgundy wing leader.
Nearly a thousand crows are incinerated during the first wave of attacks, but the
charcoal colored birds keep coming like a giant horde of locusts devouring
everything in sight.
Valkyr and Bjorgon’s command wing is now protected by additional wings on
all sides. The rest of the dragon wings make a desperate attempt to buy the queen
time to escape. They diverge from their cluster and form attack runs, burning the
flanks of the murder of crows.
From a distance, the dying avian look like ash sprinkling from the tip of a
burning cigarette.
As Delta Wing makes its attack run on the still ominous black horde, the
feathered mass shifts its entirety into the flaming dragons. At the last second,
Delta wing tries to pull back, but it is too late.
Crows shriek and peck at dragon flesh. The dragons belch forth their searing
breath. Thousands of black birds burn and fall, but Delta Wing is hopelessly
outnumbered.
A dragon man releases his reins as countless crows peck at his face and
puncture one of his eyes. A blue dragon’s wings are shredded by hundreds of
ferocious beaks. In the confusion, a red dragon inadvertently scorches a dragon
man through a veil of black feathers. He screams in agony and drops from his
mount. The battle is quickly being decided in favor of the aggressor and its far
superior numbers.
Valkyr can see Boldever Mountain in all its glory, rapidly approaching. It looks
like they are going to make it. From what he can see of Lyra’s face, it has gone
completely ashen in color.
“We’re going to make it, Lyra,” Valkyr bellows above the wind. His
confident voice betrays the trembling he feels inside.
(Bjorgon) We’ve lost Alpha, Beta, and Delta Wings.
“Fly faster!” Valkyr commands Bjorgon.
Lyra peers over her shoulder and sees the birds are gaining on them.
“Skyhalla!” she cries.
(Skyhalla) I know, Lyra, I know.
The queen doubles her effort. She strains every muscle and fiber in her body.
Her breathing starts to become ragged.
The sheer cliff of Highland Den is upon them. The dragons in the wing
protecting the front are the first to pass through the shadow of the crevasse. Valkyr
on Bjorgon and Lyra on Skyhalla are hot on their tails. They no sooner have
entered the hanger when the wing behind them is slammed from the side by a
massive stream of crows. Gamma Wing doesn’t even see the assault coming, they
are completely broadsided.
“See that the queen makes it to her keep,” Valkyr barks at the rider on the red
dragon on his right flank. “The rest of you come with me!”
“Bjorgon and the other eleven dragons in Valkyr’s wing make an about face
and line up the width of the entrance to the hanger. Great jets of fire issue forth
and the smell of roasting birds fills the air.
“We can’t let them in! Keep at it!” Valkyr yells above the roar of flame.
“Valkyr!” screams Lyra as Skyhalla and the red continue down the corridor
toward the dragon keep, away from the hangar. “Valkyr!” Her hysterical voice
echoes through the corridor.
CHAPTER 16
Nakira creeps along the dark corridor. She navigates the labyrinth of passages
without hesitation. She comes upon a narrow inlet. Searching with her fingers
along the concave section of the wall, she feels a metal latch and activates the
mechanism. A dull grinding of stones sounds and she looks nervously from left to
right. No one is approaching.
A cool, moist breeze sweeps up from the floor and Nakira takes a tentative step,
her foot finding a depression in the ground. Slowly, she repeats the process with
her other leg, careful not to lose her balance and go tumbling.
The opening in the ground is even darker than the unlit corridors of the
catacombs. Her mind measures the steps she is taking until she moves with more
confidence as the stairs follow regular intervals. She is submerged below the floor
of the catacombs and the steps continue to descend.
Nakira touches the clammy stones of the wall and is aware of its curvature. She
continues to descend for what feels like a very long time. Even with her vampire
eyes, Nakira cannot penetrate the complete and utter darkness.
Her mind starts to reel as the lack of visual input makes her wonder if she is, in
fact, in Hell. Is she condemned to forever traverse an infinite spiral, never to see
light, never to reach a bottom?
She hears a faint sound in between the rhythm of her footfalls. What is it?
Lower she goes, where she stops, nobody knows.
“Nakira, you’re losing it,” she cautions herself. The noise is growing louder.
She knows this sound. She strains to hear it better. More steps. It sounds like
something is moving, not footsteps, not wings beating. She goes lower still.
The movement she hears is some kind of rushing sound, powerful. It finally
dawns on Nakira – the strong flowing noise is the underground river! She is
almost at the bottom.
The moist breeze is refreshing as her foot finally rests on the stone banks of the
subterranean river. It has been a very long time since Nakira had last been there.
Rayjlandic is a seaside city. The water table below the catacombs eventually
drains to the Northern Sea. Nakira had discovered the passage years ago on a day
she was quite bored and wanted to explore. She never told anyone about it.
Her mind keeps going back to last night’s dinner with Vlad. He said he was
going to visit another vampire clan’s locale. He never leaves here. He must be up
to something.
Nakira often worried for her son, Nickolas. He was so young when she had to
send him away. She tried to keep Drake hidden. The dragon had just shown up
one day. She had already suspected that it was just a matter of time.
It had been hard enough letting go of her old life. Nakira hated Vlad for what
he had made her into – what he had made her only child into. However, he also
had this indescribable power over her. After some time, it seemed like she was
calming down, getting used to this strange family dynamic of her, Nick, and Vlad.
Her first worries started when she would hear Nick crying out for someone in
his sleep. Instead of his first words being ‘mama’, they were ‘Drake’. Then
sometimes when he was awake, it appeared that he was having a conversation with
someone who was not there. He would go on in his baby babble to this unseen
entity; sometimes laughing, sometimes cooing.
Nakira had found this at first to be cute, but as it increased and Nick became a
toddler, he began speaking real words to this Drake. It finally dawned on her.
“Oh God, no!” she had said in shock realization. “Please, this can’t be!”
But sure enough, like Nakira in her life before Vlad, and like the real father of
her son, Nick was also of Dragonkind.
She did not think it was possible. He was born a vampire for God’s sake! This
was an even worse curse for her poor child – as if born a member of the eternally
damned was not enough.
If Vlad were to find out, he would surely kill him. Dragons and vampires were
sworn enemies. Oh, how could this be?
Maybe this Drake will stay at Highland Den, Nakira had thought to herself one
night when she was suckling Nick on her breast. She had no milk to offer, of
course, but blood could be had from any part of the body. Some maternal instinct
made Nakira think this was the appropriate way to feed a vampire baby.
She often liked to sit with Nick at one of the iron gates at the entrance to the
catacombs – mother and child gazing up at the starry night. These memories
would become her fondest in the years to come. Ironically, it was also on one of
these precious occasions that her greatest dread was realized.
The stars had been particularly bright that evening. Nakira remembered the
way Nick would point at constellations; able to connect the dots in his little mind
and see the shapes they made. Nakira had read him many children’s books with
animals in them and Nick could see them in the stars.
“Kitty!” he had exclaimed and then clapped his little hands together in
excitement at his own realization.
“Lion” Nakira had corrected. Indeed, the child had quite a vivid imagination
and, in fact, the constellation was that of Leo, the lion prince, named after the
mythological story.
Nick had pointed again. “Drake!” he exclaimed with glee and then had held his
arms out wide, like when he wanted Nakira to pick him up.
Her vampire heart had skipped a beat. Her throat had gone dry. She had looked
from her ecstatic son, her eyes full of fear. She had followed the direction Nick
had been looking.
The boy had clapped merrily, cheering “Drake, mommy! Look! Drake!”
And there he had been, perched upon the rooftop of the church across the street.
In the shadows of the night, he could easily have been mistaken for some kind of
gothic gargoyle adorning the religious edifice. All, that is, except for those
glowing ruby eyes. Nakira will never forget the way they swirled and came alive
at the sight of her son. There was a real love in those eyes, she had known that.
But still, after a long moment of her mind trying to take all this in, she had
whispered hoarsely, “go away.”
But of course, Nick and Drake had been forever connected since birth. The
little hatchling emerging on the warm sands of Highland Den at the exact moment
Nick had escaped Nakira’s womb. Albeit, the physical locations were half a world
apart – geography was not important. The timing had been simultaneous: not a
second apart. That is how it is in dragonkind: two entities of different species,
destined to be together for life. Nakira knew that no one, not even here, could keep
these two apart.
Vlad had always been busy running things. But other members of his ‘family’
had been constantly present in the catacombs of Rayjlandic. Nakira could not have
kept the little dragon a secret. Nick had been too young to comprehend the danger
of the situation. Drake had been of like mind. She had wanted to just take them
and go far away.
But where could they go?
Nakira and Nick were vampires. She never could have returned to the life she
used to have. Besides, she was Vlad’s prize possession. He was obsessed with
her. He would have gone to the ends of the earth to retrieve her.
Then one day, when the moon had been full and bright, Nakira had taken Nick
to the surface so he could spend some time with Drake. The little dragon had
always wanted to come back with them into the catacombs. Nick always had cried
when their time was up. But Nakira had held firm, knowing the disaster that would
be if they tried to sneak him in.
What goes on there?” a voice had boomed from behind them. It had been Torr!
Nakira had looked at the vampire just in time to see his evil gaze settle upon Nick
and Drake. Pure hatred- that was what she had seen. He would not have been the
only one. It was over.
Torr had come running towards them, hissing with fangs bared. Impossibly
long claws had been growing from his fingers.
“Nooooo!” Nakira had yelled furiously as their attacker had come within
striking distance. She had unleashed her own pent up hatred, hatred of Vlad, of
herself, and of all vampire kind. She had ducked Torr’s talons and deftly
countered his attack by grappling and throwing the bloodthirsty fiend, using his
own momentum against him. He had sailed through the air in slow motion, his
body making an arcing path until the back of his skull slammed into the adjacent
wall.
The deafening crunch of skull fracturing and neck bones breaking would have
signified death for a human. But Torr, being a vampire, had merely been rendered
unconscious while his superhuman healing abilities had gone to work repairing the
damage.
Nakira had known that she did not have much time.
She had glanced uneasily down the passageway from where Torr had just come.
She had turned her attention to her son.
Nick and Drake had sat mesmerized by the brutal display they had just
witnessed.
Nakira had felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she knelt before Nick and
held him at arm’s length by his small shoulders.
“Mommy, What’s Wrong?” Nick had asked in such a small, pitiful voice. He
had been so young – too young for this.
“Nick, you know mommy loves you, right?” Nakira’s voice had cracked. The
tears had been coming in steady streams.
“Mommy, why are you so sad? Is it because of the bad man?” Nick had asked
looking worried. His eyes had started to get moist.
“Yes Nick, that’s right, honey. It’s because of the bad man. But it’s also
because nobody else here will let you be with Drake,” Nakira replied.
She had suddenly looked back over her shoulder towards the catacombs as the
first faint sounds of running had come in response to the scuffle with Torr.
“Oh God, no!” she had whispered. She had turned back to her son and said,
“Nick, you have to trust me, sweety.”
She had hoisted him up and placed him securely on Drake’s neck.
All the while, Drake had been intently watching this exchange between mother
and child. He had been able to sense Nick’s apprehension and turned his long neck
around so that he could nuzzle the child reassuringly.
The footsteps had become louder. Cries could be heard from below.
Nakira had taken Drake’s head in her hands. She had stared deeply into those
luminous eyes.
“You take care of my boy, you hear?” she had commanded in a desperate voice
that came out as a croak as her throat constricted and she had become wracked
with grief and tears.
“No mommy! No!” Nick had protested. He had one arm wrapped around
Drake’s neck, the other reaching for his mother.
The dragon had only been a child itself, but it had been strong. Its wings had
beaten at the air. They were off the ground, over the church steeple. Nick had
been crying and screaming for his mother the whole way.
Nakira had seen them becoming smaller and smaller until they were gone. She
had collapsed to the ground, her tears spilling onto the cobbled street.
Then the others arrived – and it was over.
The moist breeze greets her face as her foot finally rests on the stony banks of
the underground river. A tear dries on her cheek as the memory of her son fades
and her mind returns to the present task.
There is a faint light coming off the water down river. She sees the silhouette
of the small sailing vessel at the docks.
She will take the boat through this cavern to where it finally emerges at the
seaside cliffs of Rayjlandic. From there she was not totally sure where she would
go. Only that she had to find Nick and protect him from Vlad – even if it meant
she had to sacrifice her own life in the process.
CHAPTER 17
As Drake follows Nick and Sparx through the large, redwood barn doors, he has
to duck his head to clear the threshold.The giant tree stump is more than adequate
in diameter, it was cut leaving clearance enough for its intended purpose. It was
not designed to house dragons.
Drake made a disgrunted growl as he notices the low ceiling skimming his
already lowered cranium. His glowing red eyes darken in irritation and he
compensates by lowering his head a little more.
“It’s just til’ tomorrow night, Drake,” Nick explains to his cramped friend.
“It’s the biggest room they had.”
(Drake) You’re not the one who’s going to get a stiff neck.
“Beats being outside when the sun comes up. I think that might be a little more
painful than a few sore muscles,” Nick retorts.
Sparx is fluttering about the circular barn on the opposite side from the door.
Once Drake’s massive body and tail are entirely on the inside, Nick moves to
the large barn doors and peers about outside. He then proceeds to close and latch
the protective barrier.
Drake finds a suitably sized pile of straw to the left of the doorway and against
the circular redwood wall. He steps onto the relatively soft substance and kneads it
with his front paws. Satisfied with the straw passing this test, Drake performs an
odd walk in a tight spiral, trying to find the ideal position in which to lay. In doing
this, his head catches up with his tail and the dragon settles down on his makeshift
bed, resting his chin on the half way point of his serpent-like tail.
Drake half hoods his eyelids and contentedly gazes upon Nick as the adolescent
vampire turns from securing the door. He sees the determination in the boy and
knows that he is lucky to have such a strong rider, despite the circumstances in
which they were brought.
Happiness is a simpler concept for dragons. Having a rider - their life partner gives them a constant sense of belonging. As long as they both shall live, a dragon
will never know loneliness. Add to that a full belly and a warm place to sleep, and
a dragon will think it is in heaven.
Even being a vampiric dragon, Drake still tended to adhere to the draconic
norms, the main difference being the thirst, which can be overwhelming when it
hits.
Looking fondly upon his life-linked rider, Drake recalls his decision to have the
boy transform him into a vampire also.
Drake had brought Nick to his home at Highland Den when he was very young.
It had been highly unusual for a dragon to be hatched without its rider being born
within Dragonkind. So, when Drake had developed enough to fly on his own, he
had gone on his quest to find Nick.
All of Dragonkind had been ecstatic to see the young dragon return with the
boy. Everyone welcomed Nick with open arms. The boy had been understandably
distraught over being sent away by his mother. It took some time for him to take
to these new surroundings.
The midwife of Highland Den, Hilga, had tried to fill the void for Nick. She
was a large, plain looking woman, but she loved children. It did not take Hilga
long to learn of Nick’s special dietary needs.
Alarmed at first, Hilga nearly told the boy’s secret. After all, vampires were the
scourge of the world and dragonkind was sworn to destroy them. But one look in
Nick’s innocent eyes, and Hilga knew that she could not betray his newfound trust
and dependence on her.
Drake had also been constantly by the boy’s side, trying his best to fill the
vacancy in Nick’s heart. The young dragon kept a watchful eye on Hilga, not
really understanding the full ramifications that would be incurred if Nick’s true
identity was to be discovered.
These had been relatively happy times for the pair. They were inseparable and
often played all through the night while everyone else slept.
During the day they mostly slept – Highland Den providing constant shelter
from the weak, northern sunlight.
The people of Highland Den had begun to murmur as to the unusual sleeping
habits of Nick and Drake. Finally, somebody had mentioned it to Hilga.
“They’ve been through a lot. Besides, they are growing and they need their
rest,” Hilga had explained.
This had kept everyone’s curiosity at bay for awhile.
This went on for years. Nick got to know the geography of Highland Den very
well. Drake learned from the older dragons the purpose of their kind in the world
and dragonkind’s sworn protection of the humans against vampires. Slowly, Drake
started to comprehend Nick’s precarious situation.
(Drake) Nick, no one here can know that you are a vampire. It would be very
bad.
“I know, Drake,” Nick had replied. An understanding resignation had shown in
his brown eyes.
People had already been whispering whenever Nick passed by. The other
children who used to love to play with him started to avoid Nick and would avert
their eyes from his when he was around.
“It’s summer and yet the boy still stays inside during the daytime,” one dragon
man had commented.
“I saw him riding his dragon at midnight in the full moon’s light!” another had
exclaimed.
There had been a growing grumbling amongst the people of Highland Den. It
had become increasingly difficult for Hilga to come up with excuses for the boy
that had been rapidly approaching puberty.
Then the day had come. The livestock keeper had long suspected that Nick was
the culprit responsible for the dead carrion he had found occasionally in the
paddocks. Dragons feasted on the does and stags but left little if any remainder of
the beasts behind. These findings were different: entire deer corpses intact, with
the exception of the bodies being completely void of blood.
The livestock keeper had been aware of Nick’s nocturnal routine and had
altered his own sleeping habits accordingly. One evening, in the dead of night, the
animal keeper laid in waiting.
Nick’s thirst had been quite overpowering that night. It had been all the boy
could do to refrain from slaying the nearest human. He actually could envision
himself serrating the dragon man’s jugular vein. He had been that close to become
a murderer.
But he had refrained. He snuck down into the dragon keep. All the other
winged, magical creatures had been deep in slumber except of course, Drake, who
had accompanied the boy. Nick had opened the gate to the paddock – the beasts
waking and becoming uneasy. They could sense Nick’s intentions – their instinct
highly adapted to detecting predators.
Nick had closed the gate behind him, sealing the fate of the poor herbivores.
Their ears had been piqued, all faces staring at Nick and Drake in terror. The
uneasy herd shifted from one wall to the next. They had no place to go.
The livestock keeper had witnessed this unusual behavior from outside the
paddock, peering around the corner of one of the stone walls of the dragon keep.
He had watched in awestruck terror as Nick’s canine teeth grew and sharpened –
his fingernails mimicked the same process.
The boy had pounced upon the nearest doe, shredding the side of the creature’s
neck as he grappled his victim and sunk his impossibly long fangs into the already
inflicted wounds. The deer yelped in agony as its knees buckled and it fell to the
ground.
Accustomed to feeding on Nick’s schedule, Drake also pounced upon one of the
terrified beasts, dragging the fleeing stag down from its hindquarters, much like a
lioness overcoming a gazelle.
The livestock keeper had silently gasped at the spectacle before him. Then his
face had sharpened as his suspicions had been verified.
So! He had thought to himself. The boy is a vampire! I knew it.
He had scurried off to the stone steps, ascending them two at a time, eager to
share his revelation with the others.
The council will surely kill this foul abomination of nature! He had anticipated
and a sneer formed on his lips as the first beads of perspiration dotted his forehead.
And, sure enough, Nick had been brought before the council. Drake and Hilga
had been at either side of the boy as the council members glared down upon his
awkward form with severe scrutiny and judgment.
The decision had been made. If it had not have been for those who had
sympathy for the boy, he most assuredly would have been executed.
Purged by Dragon fire! – was the verdict many had hoped for.
But in the end, it had been decided that Nick would be exiled – never to return
to Highland Den again.
Drake had anticipated that this would have been the very minimum of
punishment and had come to Nick in the middle of the night on the eve of the
boy’s judgment.
(Drake) Nick, I want to be like you. I want to know what it is like for you first
hand. If you are banished, they will tear us apart. I couldn’t stand that! If you
make me into a vampire then they will make me leave with you.
“You don’t know what you are asking!” Nick had exclaimed. “My true nature
is a curse! I don’t want you to have to live in exile, too. It’s too much to ask,” the
boy had pleaded.
Drake rubbed his muzzle against Nick reassuringly. His ruby eyes swirled with
emotion.
(Drake) We are to be together for life. I don’t want to be the only dragon
without a rider.
Finally at his wit’s end and no longer having the strength or the will to argue
anymore, Nick had dropped his head and wept, embracing the warm dragon’s hide
with his pale arms. After a while, Nick had begun to slowly nod his head in
resignation.
“Okay, Drake. I’ll do it,” Nick had agreed quietly.
And so it came to pass. Nick had been allowed to take what few possessions he
had. Hilga had bawled her eyes out and had smothered the young vampire in her
massive bosom. The dragons of Highland Den had all gathered about the Upper
Bowl Terrace to see Nick and Drake off. They bugled their farewells to the pair
below them as the star speckled night glittered behind their massive forms.
The dragons had tried to reason with the humans of Highland Den. They saw
no need to punish Nick and Drake as the boy had peacefully existed among their
kind for several years.
But people were more judgmental.
The council members and the Highland Den Guard had stood in the Bowl
Terrace, glowering at Nick and Drake and frowning at the plethora of dragons
perched on the bowl’s upper rim.
Drake’s riding gear had already been fitted and Nick had been sporting the
thick, wool-lined riding jacket worn by the dragonmen in their northern climate.
Nick had taken to Drake’s saddle and waved a forlorn goodbye to Hilga, who
had been restrained by two of the Guardsmen as she had fought through bitter tears
to hold on to the boy.
Drake had emitted his own strange croon of a salutation and with that, had
combined a powerful stroke of wings with a forceful leap of his well-muscled legs.
The duo had ricocheted past the rim of the Bowl with Drake’s first burst of effort –
all dragons perched around, following their progress with admiration of Drake’s
incredible display of super-draconic strength.
And then they were gone……….
Drake regards Nick with partially hooded ruby eyes – gazing at the young man
that the vampire boy had become. A toothy grin forms on the dragon’s immense
jaw, a rather ridiculous display on what most would find a normally ferocious face.
“What’s got into you,” Nick says accusingly as his attention turns from the
latched barn door to the goofy look on Drake’s face. “Are you all right? You look
like you’ve been smoking magweed,” Nick proclaims, screwing up his face in
mock imitation of Drake’s.
The dragon tilts his head to the side and makes an odd whining sound, much
like a dog would regard its master when something strikes it as unusual. Then
Drake sends his telepathic reply.
(Drake) Huh?.....Oh nothing. Just daydreaming, I guess.
Nick puts his hands on his hips and regards Drake with consternation. “Well,
snap out of it, will you? We’ve gotta figure out how we’re going to handle
this…er, what did Sparx call him?” Nick asks looking inquisically at the pixie who
has just buzzed over when she heard her name.
“Zz-twirp!” Sparx gibbers enthusiastically.
(Drake) Crow Master he interprets.
“Right. Crow Master,” Nick repeats while watching the little pixie engage in
her erratic flight about his and Drake’s heads. She never could seem to just settle
in one spot. Nick wonders if all faeries are as energetic as she – it’s like she is on a
constant sugar rush.
“Phsst! Bzz! Screach!” Sparx says with enthusiasm. She is adding hand
motions and dramatic facial expressions now.
(Drake) She says that she saw him earlier during the day while we slept.
Something about unloading earth covered coffins……..
“Vampires!” Nick concludes. “This Crow Master must be transporting them
during the day!”
“Tttttt – zzzzz – scritchity scratch,” the excited pixie goes on. When Drake
does not translate to Nick right away, Sparx fumes and glares at him, pointing
furiously at Nick.
(Drake) Oh…….This Crow Master has some kind of pet crow with blood for
eyes.
Drake looks confused and makes a dragon’s attempt at shrugging his shoulders.
It does not translate as smoothly as the human equivalent.
“Hmmmmm,” Nick says, drawing his face in deep thought. He fidgets his
index finger and thumb against the tip of his chin. “Weird,” he finally says,
shaking his head and splaying his arms and hands in an act of exasperation.”
Never heard of that before,” he admits.
Just then, multiple human screams split the silence of the night from outside.
Nick flinches at the unexpected sound. Drake lifts his head in alarm, only missing
the ceiling because his body is still lying on his straw bed. Sparx’s frightened
reaction to the sudden, terrible disturbance is to disappear in a cascade of sparkling
pixie dust.
CHAPTER 18
Crow Master Raven stands upon the snow covered peak. The rugged, granite
outcropping is above the evergreen tree level. A multitude of similar mountains
span the horizon.
Raven is staring up at the skies with blood-filled eyes, their usual lovely violet
concealed in a horrific dull red. Her gaze is distant. What she is seeing is not
within her physical visual range.
Her arms are outstretched with palms facing upward. Her lips are moving
rapidly as she murmurs an incantation. The words jumble together in an ancient
tongue.
The pictographic runes on her silken robes are shimmering; the black, arcing
symbols rustle and move together and around the clothing they had appeared to
have been woven into. Millions of tiny dots of crimson wink in and out of the
writhing ebony mass.
A feathery shadow is racing across the sky, returning to its summoner. It
momentarily occludes the wane, northern sunlight; much as a storm cloud will do
at dusk. The ebony apparition is long, ending in what can only be described as
ghostly tail feathers. The far reaching wingspan starts to retract – the length of the
shadow consolidating, as it descends upon the Crow Master.
It dissapparates suddenly upon contact with Raven’s body. The blood in her
eyes disperses, the irises reassuming their deep purple hue.
CHAPTER 19
The huge council hall at Highland Den dwarfs its human occupants. The
extremely tall walls feature an array of ornately designed windows situated at the
confluence of the stone ceiling. An enormous red banner hangs on the opposite
wall, the center featuring an immense golden dragon that sparkles as the weak
northern sunlight casts upon it from the windows.
The prominent furniture of the Great Hall is a circular table fashioned from a
cross section of giant redwood imported from Aldin Forest. Finished in a polished
resin, its surface is slightly reflective.
Valkyr has the floor as he stands at his place at the council table. He glares at
all the council members and pounds his fist on the solid surface; the action making
a resounding echo throughout the hall.
“Dammit!” Valkyr roars at the scrutinizing faces. “You fools can’t pin this on
Lyra!” He presses both fists, knuckles down, on the table to support his burly body
as he leans his bearded face towards his audience and says, “Isn’t it obvious? This
was a coordinated attack! We weren’t gone but fifteen minutes when the
abominable horde showed up out of nowhere!”
A distinguished looking elderly gentleman across the round table stands up to
come to Lyra’s defense as well.
“Valkyr is right, of course,” the distinguished councilman says while surveying
the faces around the table. Then he continues, “It would appear that we have a spy
in our midst.”
His gleaming blue eyes take on a hard look as he lets this sour fact sink into the
rest of the council.
Another chair scoots back and a woman with graying auburn hair stands and
addresses the distinguished gentleman. “Who here could possibly want our queen
dead, senior councilman Malthor?” she asks.
Malthor nods towards the councilwoman and replies, “Who indeed,
Cathy….who indeed.”
CHAPTER 20
Sparx reappears a few moments later. She is rambling excitedly in her insectlike speech to Drake.
(Drake) Humans are being attacked at the lodge!
Nick throws open the barn doors to their full extent to allow enough room for
Drake to pass through. He tosses a glance back at his dragon and prompts,
“Drake, are you with me?” Then rushes out into the night.
Drake’s tremendous green figure squeezes through the doorway and takes flight
once outside.
Sparx teleports back to the scene of the crime in progress, leaving behind her
signature glittering dust to shimmer and fall toward the barn floor.
The fanged fiend rips the human male’s Adam’s Apple from his throat with
long and powerful fangs. They are instantly stained with blood and the red fluid
smears on the vampire’s mouth and chin. The human can only gurgle and sputter
more of his own blood. His eyes are no longer seeing anything as they loll in his
head. The man’s body slumps in the night creature’s arms.
Another blood sucker drags a screaming woman from her room by her hair.
The torchlight of the second floor walkway exposes her terror ridden face. She is
one of the river yacht people that checked in just before Nick.
A female vampire kicks in the door of the adjoining room. The startled man
inside attempts to stab her with a dagger. She seizes his wrist and twists and pulls
his arm from its shoulder socket. Muscle and sinew show in ragged tatters. Bright
white bone is immediately drenched in blood.
The man cannot even muster a scream. He stares at his dismembered arm in
shock, sinking to his knees. At this capitulation, the vampiress proceeds to club
his face in with his own appendage.
Sparx appears in the space between the female vampire and the now dead man.
Her sudden presence and brilliant sparkle of pixie dust causes the mistress of the
night to jerk back and shield her rapidly blinking eyes. She is momentarily
blinded. Sparx sees the brutally battered face of the human and notes in alarm the
missing arm and pool of blood. She instantly disappears – the vampiress’s vision
stunned once again.
As the Blood Lady regains her sight, she whirls around to locate the pixie.
Instead of finding her, the female vampire is now staring into two glowing, ruby
orbs, just beyond the torchlight of the railing.
A puzzled look crosses the vampiresse’s face as she tries to grasp how the
annoying little pixie has transformed into the vision before her.
Drake leans his massive head within the torchlight, his snout within a few feet
of the woman vampire. A dawning of realization flickers across her eyes, but
before she can react, the dragon’s eyes narrow and a short burst of flame streams
from his nostrils as he blows his nose on her.
Her hands fly immediately to her head as her face and hair erupt in a blaze,
turning her into a vampire candle. She shrieks her undead scream and turns and
runs blindly down the walkway, the flame trailing behind her head and shoulders.
The other two undead drop their victims and launch themselves at the enormous
dragon’s head. They immediately start clawing at Drake’s cheek and snout with
their impressive talons.
Drake contracts the protective ridge over his exposed eye while the rest of his
face suffers multiple lacerations, the vampire’s claws being very long and strong
enough to penetrate his thick, scaly flesh.
Just as one of them is about to sink his razor sharp nail through Drake’s eye
ridge, the dragon violently shakes his head, like a soaked dog drying itself. The
action hurls his human-sized attackers into the air.
One of the undead assailants reacts quickly enough to stake a hold in the
roofline of the four-story lodge. His talons maintain a tenuous purchase as his
body dangles precariously from the ledge.
The other creature of the night yells loudly as he fails to grasp anything solid.
As he starts to fall towards the ground, Drake sears his entire body with a long jet
of flame emitted from the dragon’s gaping jaw.
The roasting ball of vampire thuds loudly as it slams into the dirt. The fire still
burns; dramatic flames dancing high off the shriveling corpse as juices pop and
sizzle from the blistering flesh.
Drake gazes ferociously up at the other vampire dangling from the eve at the
roofline. The night fiend sees the ominous ruby eyes penetrate him from the
dragon’s bloodied face. The creature’s fear driven panic causes him to scramble
desperately to haul himself on top of the roof.
Drake lowers onto his haunches and prepares to launch at the fleeing vampire.
Suddenly, he feels an annoying pecking sensation on one of his partially
outstretched wings. He swivels his big, jade head towards the cause of the
irritation. Expecting to see another vampire, Drake is almost amused at the sight
of the pest on his wing.
A crow with blood-filled eyes thrashes its fierce beak at the membranous tissue
of Drake’s wing. It pauses from its tearing activity and cocks it head toward the
dragon’s much larger face. The bird caws at Drake annoyingly and while the
dragon is still pondering how to proceed, the avian takes flight.
He is tracking the crow and preparing to incinerate it when the same pecking
and tearing sensation is repeated, but from Drake’s opposite wing.
This time, when the dragon turns his head, two crows are thrashing their beaks
about Drake’s wing.
A caw comes from yet another direction and he looks up to the railing on the
third floor and sees several dozen more black birds peering down at him with
beady, crimson eyes.
CHAPTER 21
Vlad furiously paces the dank, concrete room. Crow Master Raven stands
before him with head bowed; snow colored hair falling forward and obscuring her
face. Antoine is there also. He is standing slightly behind Raven and off to her
side. While Vlad seems upset, Antoine looks impressed by Raven’s report.
Vlad stops pacing and points a menacing finger at the Crow Master. “You
have failed me!” he accuses.
Antoine is quick to Raven’s defense.
“Vlad,” he says, “if her report is accurate, is by far the greatest damage the
dragons have ever suffered.”
Antoine is quick to Raven’s defense. “Vlad,” he says, “If her report is
accurate, this is by far the greatest damage the dragons have ever suffered.”
Antoine is quick to Raven’s defense. “Vlad,” he says, “If her report is
accurate, this is by far the greatest damage the dragons have ever suffered.” (the
same)
Not many of Vlad’s vampires would dare to stand up to him, but Antoine was
one of the Ancient One’s oldest creations and knew him better than most.
Not many of Vlad’s vampires would dare to stand up to him, but Antoine was
one of his oldest creations and knew the ancient one better than most.
Not many of Vlad’s vampires would dare to stand up to him, but Antoine was
one of Vlad’s oldest creations and knew the ancient one better than most.
“The queen, Antoine. She is still alive!” Vlad rages on. His eyes burn with
anger and a scowl forms on his brow.
“The queen, Antoine. She is still alive!” Vlad rages on. His eyes burn with
anger and a scowl forms on his brow.
“The queen, Antoine. She is still alive!” Vlad rages on. His eyes burn with
anger and a scowl forms on his brow.
“It will still take several clutches before they regain their numbers. And even
then, the hatchlings take the same amount of time to mature as their riders…..this
is still a victory, Vlad,” Antoine says with a look of great concern on his face.
“It will still take several clutches before their numbers are back. And even then,
the hatchlings take the same amount of time to mature as their riders…..this is still
a victory, Vlad,” Antoine says with a look of great concern.
“It will stay take several clutches before the dragons regain their numbers. And
even then, the hatchling take the same amount of time to mature as their
riders…..this is still a victory, Vlad,” Antoine says with a look of great concern on
his face.
Vlad regards both Antoine and Raven with a look of disgust.
“Leave me….both of you,” he says irritably, issuing them away with a wave of
his hand.
Vlad regards both Antoine and Raven with a look of disgust. “Leave
me….both of you,” he says irritably, issuing them away with a wave of his hand.
Vlad regards both Antoine and Raven with a look of disgust.
“Leave me….both of you,” he says irritably, issuing them away with a wave of
his hand.
Antoine places an arm around Raven’s shoulders and steers her in the direction
of the exit.
Antoine places an arm around Raven’s shoulders and steers her in the direction
of the exit. “Come on,” he says to her gently as they leave the room.
Antoine places an arm around Raven’s shoulders and steers her in the direction
of the exit.
“Come on,” he says to her gently as they leave the room.
“Come on,” he says to her gently as they leave the room.
Vlad glares after their departing figures and then shuts the door behind them.
He spins around and looks about the room, searching. He spots a dark puddle of
water in the corner of the damp room. Kneeling before it, Vlad peers into its
murky surface. His vision seems to lose focus and he reaches out to the puddle
with his hand.
Vlad glares after their departing figures and then shuts the door behind them.
He spins around and looks about the room, searching. He spots a dark puddle of
water in the corner. Kneeling before it, Vlad peers into its murky surface. His
vision seems to lose focus and he reaches out to the puddle with his hand.
Vlad glares after their departing figures and then shuts the door behind them.
He spins around and looks about the room, searching. He spots a dark puddle of
water in the corner of the damp room. Kneeling before it, Vlad peers into its
murky surface. His vision seems to lose focus and he reaches out to the puddle
with his hand.
“Aquas Obsidious,” Vlad whispers in a voice that is not quite his own. He taps
the center of the puddle with his outstretched index finger. As the ripples form and
emanate from the middle, the surface turns an oily black. The same thing happens
to Vlad’s eyes: they appear to have become pools of viscous, black fluid and their
surface is rippling much the same as the puddle on the floor.
“Aquas Obsidious,” Vlad whispers in a voice not quite his own. He taps the
center of the puddle with his outstretched index finger. As the ripples form and
emanate from the middle, the surface turns an oily black. The same thing happens
to Vlad’s eyes: they appear to have become pools of viscous, black fluid and their
surface is rippling much the same as the puddle on the floor.
“Aquas Obsidious,” Vlad whispers in a voice that is not quite his own.
He taps the center of the puddle with his outstretched index finger. As the
ripples form and emanate from the middle, the surface turns an oily black. The
same thing happens to Vlad’s eyes - they appear to have become pools of viscous,
black fluid and their surface is rippling much the same as the puddle.
CHAPTER 22
Nick is racing towards the lodge at a full sprint. He sees a short blast of flame
from Drake’s snout erupt on someone’s head. The being is screaming and running
away. Two ferocious shrieks sound and Nick notices Drake shaking his head
vigorously. Nick has covered almost half the distance when Drake breathes fire on
a figure falling from the air.
Nick is racing towards the lodge at a full sprint. He sees a short blast of flame
from Drake’s snout erupt on someone’s head. The being is screaming and running
away. Two ferocious shrieks sound and Nick notices Drake shaking his head
vigorously. Nick has covered almost half the distance when Drake breathes fire on
a figure falling from the sky.
Nick is racing towards the lodge at a full sprint. He sees a short blast of flame
from Drake’s snout erupt on someone’s head. The being is screaming and running
away. Two ferocious shrieks sound and Nick notices Drake shaking his head
vigorously. Nick has covered almost half the distance when Drake breathes fire on
a figure falling from the sky.
Nick’s vision starts to blur. He feels disoriented. Then his sight goes black.
He feels his legs give out from underneath him. He barely feels his face smack the
dusty ground.
Suddenly, his vision blurs and then goes black. Nick’s legs give out from under
him. He barely feels his face smack the dusty ground.
His vision starts to blur and his legs start to feel leaden. As everything goes
black, Nick’s legs seize up and he falls. He barely feels his face smack the dusty
ground.
Nick’s mind is filled with the image of a great rift valley. The jungle that spans
before him is like none he has ever seen. He gets the feeling that it is very old, as
when the world was young.
Strange beasts are foraging on the vegetation from the edge of a body of water
so large that Nick at first thinks it a sea – but no, it is an immense lake. Alien
shrieks sound from the skies and he sees odd looking dragons with short necks and
weird crests sprouting from the backs of their heads. They are soaring from the
high cliffs above the shore line.
His mind fills with a vision of a great rift valley. The jungle that spans before
him is like none he has ever seen. He gets the feeling that it is very old, as when
the world was young. Strange beasts are foraging on the vegetation from the edge
of a body of water so large that Nick at first thinks it a sea – but no, it is an
immense lake. Strange shrieks sound from the skies and he sees odd looking
dragons with short necks and weird crests sprouting from the backs of their heads.
They are soaring from the high cliffs.
Nick’s mind sees a vision of a great rift valley. The jungle that spans before
him is like none he has ever seen. He gets the feeling that it is very old, as when
the world was young. Strange beasts are foraging on the vegetation from the edge
of a body of water so large that Nick at first thinks it a sea – but no, it is an
immense lake. Strange shrieks sound from the skies and he sees odd looking
dragons with short necks and weird crests on the back of their heads. They are
soaring from the high cliffs.
Nick’s perspective starts to take flight. He is floating over the water; the image
blurs as his speed increases. Finally, he slows as he approaches a distant shore.
The land ahead is void of life: there is no soil, only rough regolith that is porous
and pocked with craters. Nick flies over the largest of these craters and sees a
fissure at the center of the bowl. Steam is slowly rising from this odd crack and
then Nick is descending the depths.
Nick’s perspective starts to take flight as well. He is floating over the water; the
image burs as his speed increases. Finally, he slows as he approaches a distant
shore. The land approaching is void of any life: there is no soil, only a rough
regolith that is porous and pocked with craters. Nick flies over the largest of the
craters and sees a fissure at the center of its base. Steam is slowly rising from this
odd crack and then Nick is descending the depths.
Nick’s perspective starts to take flight, as well. He is floating over the
water; the image burs as his speed increases. Finally, he slows as he approaches a
distant shore. The land is void of any life: there is no soil, only a rough regolith
that is porous and pocked with craters. Nick flies over the largest of the craters and
sees a fissure at the center of its base. Steam is slowly rising from this odd crack
and then Nick is descending its depths.
He travels for what seems like miles in darkness. Then the fault widens and he
is in a subterranean cavern whose walls glow with a faint, green iridescence.
He travels for what seems like miles in darkness. Then, the fault widens and he
is in a subterranean cavern whose walls glow with a faint blue iridescence.
There is another presence here. Nick cannot see it yet, but he can feel it. It is
strong. It is beckoning him. At the bottom of the cavern Nick feels something
cool and slick. The faint, blue light of the cave reveals he has struck the surface of
a very dark, thick liquid.
There is another presence here. Nick cannot see it yet, but he can feel it. It
beckons to him.
At the bottom of the cavern Nick feels something cool and slick. The faint blue
light of the cave reveals he has struck the surface of a very dark, thick liquid. He
has found the other entity.
There is another presence here. Nick cannot see it yet. But he can feel it. It is
strong. It is beckoning him. At the bottom of the cavern Nick feels something
cool and slick. The faint, blue light of the cave reveals he has struck the surface of
a very dark, thick liquid. He has found the other entity.
Nick is lying on the ground face down. He hears crows cawing and then a roar
of pain from a dragon. An immense rage burns deep within. He stands up
immediately and everything he sees is tainted in red. Nick’s brown eyes have
turned an oily black; the strange pools of liquid ripple as he zooms in on a large
flock of crows pelting and tearing at Drake – the dragon’s burst of flame
ineffective at reaching the smart and swift birds that will only attack from Drake’s
blind side.
Nick is lying on the ground face down. He hears crows cawing and then
Drake roars in pain. An immense rage burns deep within. He stands up
immediately and everything he sees is tainted in red. Nick’s brown eyes have
turned an oily black; the strange pools of liquid ripple as he zooms in on a large
flock of crows pelting and tearing at Drake. The dragon fires back, but is
ineffective at reaching the smart and swift birds that will only attack from Drake’s
blind spots.
Nick is lying on the ground face down. He hears crows cawing and then
Drake roars in pain. An immense rage burns deep within. He stands up
immediately and everything he sees is tainted in red. Nick’s brown eyes have
turned an oily black; the strange pools of liquid ripple as he zooms in on a large
flock of crows pelting and tearing at Drake; the dragon’s burst of flame ineffective
at reaching the smart and swift birds that will only attack from Drake’s blind side.
With a yell more powerful than Nick had ever previously mustered, he launches
himself into the air and toward the murder of crows. He has never felt this kind of
power before and he already knows that he will destroy every last one of them.
With a yell more powerful than Nick had ever previously mustered, he launches
himself into the air and toward the murder of crows. He has never felt this kind of
power before and he already knows that he will destroy every last one of them.
With a yell more powerful than Nick had ever previously mustered, he launches
himself into the air and toward the murder of crows. He has never felt this kind of
power before and he already knows that he will destroy every last one of them.
CHAPTER 23
The small sailing vessel moves smoothly across the gentle waves. Nakira sits at
the stern of the boat: one hand on the rudder. The cool evening breeze caresses her
porcelain skin.
The small sailing vessel moves smoothly across the gentle waves. Nakira sits
at the stern of the boat, one hand on the rudder. The cool, evening breeze caresses
her porcelain skin.
The small sailing vessel moves smoothly across the gentle waves. Nakira sits
at the stern of the boat, one hand on the rudder. The cool, evening breeze caresses
her porcelain skin. (same)
She shifts her focus from the vast expanse of ocean on the horizon and gazes at
the twinkling night sky. She scans the heavens in silence until she spots the Leo
constellation.
She shifts her focus from the vast expanse of ocean on the horizon and gazes at
the twinkling night sky. She scans the heavens in silence until she spots the Leo
Constellation.
She shifts her focus from the vast expanse of ocean on the horizon, and gazes at
the twinkling night sky. She scans the heavens in silence until she spots the Leo
Constellation.
Speaking to the stars, Nakira says, “I am entrusting you, Leo. Guide me to my
son, I beg of you.”
Speaking to the stars, Nakira says, “I am entrusting you, Leo. Guide me to my
son, I beg of you.”
Speaking to the stars, Nakira says, “I am entrusting you, Leo. Guide me to my
son, I beg of you.” (same)
As if answering, the star that comprises Leo’s eye winks – going dim, then
suddenly bright and returning to normal again.
As if answering, the star that comprises Leo’s eye winks – going dim, then
suddenly bright and returning to normal again.
As if answering, the star that comprises Leo’s eye winks – going dim, then
suddenly bright and returning to normal again. (same)
CHAPTER 24
All of Dragonkind are gathered in the Upper Bowl Terrace. Hundreds of
dragons perch along the rim. People stand in the circular amphitheatre – men,
women, and children alike. Most are dressed in dark, somber colors.
The council is led in a procession: some serving as pallbearers to an enormous,
but extremely lightweight paper mache dragon. Valkyr is following directly
behind, hefting an ornate steel torch. The party arrives at the central stage and
each member takes a position around the perimeter and faces toward the middle as
the pallbearers and Valkyr bring forth the symbolic pyre: the paper dragon having
multiple colors to represent each shade of dragon.
High Councilman Malthor addresses the audience in a booming voice that
echoes off the rim walls. “Dragons and people of Highland Den…..” he says and
pauses to motion to all in attendance. “It is with a heavy heart that we are gathered
here today. Never before have so many of our comrades fallen in the face of
adversity.
“I know it is of little comfort to the men, women and children present that are
dearly missing a member of their family: a father, a mother, a husband, a wife, a
good neighbor and a best friend. You have suffered a great loss…..as have we all.”
“Please know that they did not die in vain. Through their heroic efforts,
Dragonkind will go on!
“Be assured that they are not gone. Our brave dragons and riders will live on in
the hearts and minds of each and every one of us!
Please join me now in a prayer to the Creator to help ensure the spirits of our
dearly beloved ascend from majestic Boldever Mountain on the wings of the
Dragon Pyre to be welcomed with open arms at the gates of Pyronius,” Malthor
says and then bows his head before continuing.
All in attendance bow their heads at Malthor’s queue.
Malthor closes his eyes and stretches his arms out at his sides with palms up
and then recites, “Oh Great Pyronius, father of dragon and man alike, we pray that
you smile on your children today. Bring our dearly departed unto your heavenly
home. Take away their pain and their sorrow, and make them one with
you…………”
“For you are the power and the light,
Faith in you will sustain us through the night.
In the morning we will see you smile,
We vow to protect the world from all that is vile.
We pray to you that we stay in your grace,
So that in the end, by you we will find our place.
“In Pyronius’s name…..Amen,” finishes Malthor.
The entire amphitheatre repeats a resounding, “AMEN!”
Malthor lifts his head up and then turns to face the pallbearers and the dragon
pyre.
“Please raise the dragon,” he says calmly to the pallbearers.
They oblige Malthor’s request and the paper mache dragon is hoisted
effortlessly above their heads. From the view of the underbelly of the dragon pyre,
the hollow interior is exposed and a slender trough hangs below by thin wires. The
trough runs almost the entire length of the pyre.
Valkyr approaches the hanging trough with the lit ceremonial torch. As he
touches the flame to one end of the trough, it immediately ignites and the fire
follows its length.
Slowly, as the air above the burning trough heats, the dragon pyre starts to lift
off from the hands of the pallbearers. It is now full of air that is lighter than that
outside. It majestically ascends into the early evening sky – a glowing rainbow
colored dragon.
Musicians at the funeral add to the emotion as the dragon pyre continues its
flight towards the heavens. A sad, but oddly hopeful tune plays from the small
orchestra of wood reave and string instruments.
Those who were still in shock of the recent loss of loved ones, were suddenly
brought to grief by the emotion invoking combination of music and dramatic visual
representation of the spirits of the fallen soaring to the heavens. Children weep in
their mother’s arms. Recent widowers wipe tears from their own eyes. The
perched dragons above bugle sadly as all eyes follow the flight of the funeral pyre.
On the stage in the center of the amphitheater, Valkyr returns the ornate,
ceremonial torch to its stone holder. Lyra is on the stage as well, and she buries
her face in Valkyr’s burly chest. She whispers over sobs, “Oh God, I’m so sorry,
Valkyr.” She squeezes him as tight as she can.
Valkyr returns the embrace reassuringly with his massive arms. He is still
watching the dragon pyre as it becomes smaller and smaller. “Shhhhh,” he
whispers to her softly. “This is not your fault, Lyra, you know that,” Valkyr says
and diverts his attention from the diminishing glow in the sky to Lyra. He pulls
away slightly and lifts her supple chin with a thick index finger, so that she is
gazing up into his blue eyes. Then he asks, “Don’t you?”
Lyra looks down and nods her head in answer, but Valkyr is not convinced. He
lifts her chin again, so she is forced to look at him. He brushes his thumb across
her tear stained cheek. Her eyes are still closed.
“Lyra,” he says slightly more forcefully. She obligingly opens her eyes. They
are bloodshot, but somehow the irises are even a more brilliant green than usual.
They tell of her fragile emotional state and her need for Valkyr to really mean what
he is telling her.
“Look at me,” he says reassuringly. “I am telling you what I honestly believe.
You need to believe it too.”
“I love you, Valkyr,” is all Lyra can manage through what are now tears of joy.
She kisses him hard and hugs him with all her might. Then she shoves him away
playfully and smiles.
“You better not die on me,” she says with narrowing eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Valkyr replies with a twinkle in his eye. He pats
Lyra’s belly and beams of her.
CHAPTER 25
Nick is speeding through the air rapidly. He cannot hear any other sounds over the
thunder of his own pulse. His eyes still ripple with oily murkiness as he closes the
distance on the first crow.
The black bird is in mid-flight, but is moving much slower than normal as Nick
snatches it with one hand and decapitates it with the claws on his other. Nick’s
attention is already focusing on the next avian as he squeezes the blood from his
first victim into his mouth.
Drake has barely even partially turned his head toward Nick as the young
vampire kills the second crow and downs its crimson contents. He kills a third and
a fourth all in similar fashion – the birds barely having time to flap their wings
much less see Nick.
One gleaming ruby eye widens and the beginnings of a swirl start to form. Nick
swipes at a half dozen crows in mid-peck on Drake’s wing. Feathers explode in
bloody gore.
(Drake) Nnn………..
Nick hears the first letter of his name start to form in his mind. He is in a blind
fury and is skewering multiple birds on his long talons. The night around him
appears in an infrared haze. He locks on to a cluster of ebony avian perched on the
third story railing of the lodge.
(Drake) Iiiiii………
Nick pushes off of Drake’s muscular body and screams fiercely as he lands on
the first two crows – crushing them under his feet.
(Drake) icckk…..
All crows on the railing are dead. Nick’s expression is of blank and mindless
fury. The black pools of liquid that have replaced his eyes make him look
insidious. More blood spurts as he slices through the rest of the crows suspended
in the air.
(Drake) Nnniii…
Hearing the slowed speech of Drake in his mind, Nick glances down at the
alarmed expression on the dragon’s face as it struggles to track its rider’s
movements.
“WHAT!” Nick screams into the night.
He spots the last of the crows taunting from behind Drake and launches himself
off the third story balcony as the birds take flight in slow motion. He is already
upon them before they can even get a few inches from the ground.
Drake is slowly turning his giant body as Nick dispatches the last of the birds.
His face as well as the front of his jerkin are drenched in crow blood. He looks
wild and alien with the combination of full-blown vampire features, gore, and
liquid obsidian eyes.
Drake has finally completed his spin to face Nick. Their eyes lock for no more
than a split second when Nick glances up at the roof of the inn and notices a
vampire trying to retreat.
He swiftly crouches and springs up into the air. In the time it takes him to
reach, the other creature of the night has only taken one step.
Drake is still on the ground, his face a combination of jade hide and crimson
blood dripping from the wounds inflicted upon him. He is tracking the path Nick
had just taken through the air. His partially torn wings are starting to extend.
On top of the roof, Nick’s hands are grasping opposite sides of the frightened
vampire’s head. His eyes are bulging wide and his mouth starts to open to scream
as Nick powerfully twists the creature’s cranium. A series of snaps sound loudly
as the vampire’s face is now turned completely around. The last image the undead
being sees is a pair of rippling, oil eyes.
Just then, Sparx appears out of thin air to witness Nick feasting upon the dead
vampire. She sees his alien eyes and gasps.
Nick’s surge of power is diminishing. He feels the rest of his surroundings start
to catch up with him. He glances up from the bloody body he is draining and as
the red taint of his vision starts to fade, he sees a terrified looking Sparx gaping at
him. Her expression tells all; it’s as if she is seeing him for the first time for what
he really is – not her beloved friend, Nick, but a bloodthirsty monster.
Nick reaches out to Sparx and cries “Wait!” But she has already vanished. A
golden fleck of her pixie dust falls upon the tip of his finger as his eyes return to
normal – the oily pools evaporating.
CHAPTER 26
The puddle of oily substance is still rippling on the floor of the dark room. The
center has changed to a visual portal displaying a bloody scene on a rooftop. The
first person perspective is in very close proximity to a dead body. Suddenly, the
view pans from the bloody corpse to a little glowing creature suspended in the air
above the roof. She looks mortified and then she disappears in a brilliant cascade
of shimmering flecks.
The scene goes blank.
The puddle on the floor loses its oily sheen and returns to murky water.
Vlad is staring into the water with a smile. The pools of obsidian eyes
gradually dissipate and return to normal. He looks very pleased.
Finally, Vlad stands up. He steeples his fingers and with the same smile on his
face, he murmurs, “Good…..”
*****
Antoine is leading Crow Master Raven to another door in the dimly lit hall. He
opens it and motions for her to enter first.
Her small, pointy face looks up at Antoine and he smiles at her reassuringly.
He says, “Please, after you, Raven.”
She pauses, still staring at him with her large, almond-shaped, violet eyes. Her
expression is indecipherable. Finally, she proceeds into the candlelit room.
Antoine looks back into the hallway momentarily, and then follows Raven into
the room and latches the door behind them.
CHAPTER 27
“I’m sorry, my dear,” replies senior councilman Malthor. He then continues,
“Until we apprehend the spy amongst us, it is too risky for either your or Skyhalla
to leave Highland Den.”
Lyra nods her red head solemnly and says, “I understand.”
Malthor places his hands on her slender shoulders and says, “Lyra, this could not
have been foreseen. You are not to blame for what happened. Remember, I had
agreed that it would be fine for you two to take the occasional stroll about the airs
surrounding Boldever Mountain. This is more my fault than anyone’s.”
His eyes shows sorrow and responsibility.
Lyra suddenly realizes the burden the man is carrying. The weight of
responsibility must be immense. She was often impressed by Malthor. The man
had suffered the ultimate loss that a Dragon Man could imagine. Even through the
unfathomable depression associated with surviving the death of one’s dragon,
Malthor had managed to overcome the potentially destructive loss and pulled
himself up to lead Dragon kind as the most important member of the council.
Whereas Valkyr was head of the fighting force, Malthor was the political leader.
Lyra smiles weakly at Malthor and replies, “Please don’t be too hard on
yourself, Malthor. Skyhalla and I appreciate that you have advocated for us.”
Then her look changes and she is staring beyond the councilman. Her voice
transitions to a harder tone. “How could anybody that lives here do such a thing?”
Malthor considers this for a moment. “It’s hard to say, really,” he begins,
“Jealousy, desire for power. We have many people here that are subservient to the
Riders, Lyra. Perhaps the ancient vampire seduced one of our own with a promise
of power and immortality.
Lyra recoils with a look of disgust. Then she hisses, “Selling out your own to
help the vampires?”
Malthor nods solemnly and replies, “I admit that this is unprecedented within
Dragon Society, but it wouldn’t be the first time the vampires have resorted to
devious schemes for their betterment. They know they don’t stand a chance in a
fair fight. That’s why they hide in places our dragons cannot get to.”
“But what about the birds?”, Lyra asks. Her face transforms again, from one of
incredulous fury to a dawning curiosity. “That’s not a shape they can assume.
Besides, they would never have survived the daylight.”
Malthor nods again. “True,” he admits. “The crow attack was entirely
unexpected and could not have been the work of actual vampires.” Malthor
pauses, looking up in thought. He then continues, “When I was young, my
grandfather had told me stories of an ancient cult of people whom our ancestors
had discovered in the Rift Continent of the southern hemisphere.
“This was the dawning of discovery to what many considered the New World.
The vast southern ocean had never been traversed by old style sailing vessels that
were ill equipped for long voyages. Also, it used to be believed that the world
ended south of the land of Aldin. Some even thought that anyone who dared to sail
into the southern Ocean would fall off of the world!
“Our dragons were not as superstitious, but those few who ventured past the
point of no return were never heard from again.
“Finally, a daring sailor and master ship craftsman by the name of Dorso de
Capernus, whom the Port of Dorso is named after, built the first of what may
consider modern sailing ships.
“The vessel’s sturdy construction and ingenious buoyancy design enabled it to
stay afloat in the treacherous waters. The size of the ship was much larger than
any other at the time. It could sustain voyages that lasted for months.
“Anyways, when Capernus arrived at the northern tip of the Rift Continent, at
the site of modern day Norsol, he found that it was already inhabited. The people
called themselves ‘Skiwa’. It means people of the feather. Their traditions seemed
very strange to Dorso and his men. They worshipped birds and would chant in
their foreign tongue for hours.
“The legend has it that they could actually summon a great, dark, bird-like
shadow. Birds of the same feather from far and wide would gather as the Skiwa
performed the ritual. The giant spirit bird would merge with the flocks and the
Skiwa could control them to do their bidding.”
Lyra’s jaw drops as she realizes the similarities to the phenomena she had
witnessed. She gasps, “You mean this Skiwa used crows to attack us?”
Malthor places his palms towards Lyra in a halting manner and replies, “Now,
Lyra, this is only a legend. There has never been any hard evidence to back up
these claims. Sailors are famous for their far-fetched yarns you know; giant sea
serpents capable of swallowing entire ships and the like.
“All I’m saying is that stories of such attacks have been told and now that we
have witnessed an unprecedented massive flock of birds hell bent on killing you
and Skyhalla, it would seem to be the work of someone who would have reason to
see Dragonkind put to an end.”
“But that would mean that the Skiwa are working with the vampires!” Lyra
exclaims.
“Again, Lyra, no hard evidence. This was an attack, of that we can be sure.
The timing was too much for coincidence, and crows are not indigenous to our
northern climate. But, as no one witnessed anyone actually controlling these birds,
and the stories of the Skiwa are only stories – we really can’t say for sure,”
Malthor explains, now splaying his palms out and up in a manner suggesting that
he agrees with her theory but was unable to substantiate it.
CHAPTER 28
(Drake) Nick, what was that?
Nick shrugs, shakes his head and replies, “I have no idea.”
(Drake) I could barely even track your movements. You were just a blur!
Nick looks warily around at the floors below them and the ground. A few
excited shouts sound from Koalpans.
“Drake, we need to get back to the barn before we are spotted,” Nick whispers.
(Drake) Where’s Sparx?
Nick looks down at his feet and replies, “She saw me killing that vampire and
she disappeared.”
(Drake) She just got scared. She’ll be back.
“I don’t know, Drake. You didn’t see the look on her face. It was more than
just scared – it was like she didn’t even know who I was. I must’ve looked like a
monster,” Nick says, looking very sad.
(Drake) You couldn’t have looked scarier than me. Drake displays his massive
teeth.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Nick says. Then as more alarmed voices shout in the
Koalpan tongue, Nick glances back in the direction of the commotion and says,
“Sounds like they have found the bodies – C’mon!”
He jumps on Drake’s neck and the dragon launches off the backside of the
lodge, ascending amidst the tall redwoods until they clear the forest canopy.
Noticing the bloody state they are in, Nick advises, “Drake, maybe we should
clean up in the river first.”
(Drake) Good idea, my face burns.
They glide over the tops of trees until reaching a safe distance from Koalpan
Bend. Drake veers towards Aldin River. Sure that no one has spotted them, Nick
grabs the reins hard. Drake angles down and sweeps his wings back sharply.
(Drake) Hold on…….
“WA-HOOOOOO,” Nick exclaims as they dive toward the wide, deep section
of the river.
Drake’s sleek form breaks the surface of the water without a splash. Bubbles
fizzle past their faces as they transition to underwater.
A large fish with a silvery lure is directly in the path of the oncoming dragon.
Unaccustomed to facing anyone larger than itself, the startled fish’s eyes widen
and it darts away with amazing rapidity.
Drake has folded his wings neatly at his sides and now propels him and Nick
along with serpent-like movements of his long and powerful tail.
Nick can feel blood and grime wash away from his skin. The water feels cool
and refreshing. He starts to relax, allowing his mind a moment of relief from the
bizarre and mysterious transformation he had undergone only a short while ago.
Nick realizes the unsettling experience had left him physically drained, even
though he had gorged himself on more blood in those few moments than he would
normally consume in several days.
The sight of Sparx’s horrified expression continues to haunt Nick’s mind even
as his body rejoices in the soothing effects of the river water.
Monster.
The thought reoccurs to him. Is that what I truly am? Nick wonders. What if
that power takes over again? It felt so good. I wanted to kill. I liked it. What if
next time I stay that way?
(Drake) This feels good, Nick!
(Nick) Huh?
(Drake) The water, Nick……it feels good, don’t you think?
(Nick) Uh….right…..the water. Yeah, sure………
(Drake) Are you okay, Nick?
Nick is still partially recalling his earlier experiences.
(Nick) Ummmm, okay? Yeah…..Hey, listen, Drake. I think we’re clean now.
Let’s go back. I just remembered that I left the barn doors open. The Koalpans
are primitive, but they’re not stupid, you know.
(Drake) Okay, Nick.
Drake angles towards the surface. His tail starts moving with greater swishes
and even the dragon’s powerful limbs start to dog paddle at the dark water in
anticipation of bursting through the surface.
Drake’s movements catapult them from the wet confines of Aldin River. On
cue, he extends his wings in the evening sky. A couple of well-timed flaps and
they ascend far above the tree line. Then, Drake veers back toward Koalpan Bend.
CHAPTER 29
Sparx reappears with an audible pop. It is night time on Wysteria Island. She is
floating in front of the front door to Grandma’s cottage, amongst the thick
branches of the oak tree.
Sparx knocks furiously against the door. Much sooner than she would expect
the summons to be answered, the door opens abruptly, revealing an adult male
pixie with an alarmed expression on his face. The look instantly changes to one of
recognition as the pixie man sees Sparx.
“Sparx!” he exclaims. He rushes forward and embraces her in a heartfelt hug.
His eyes are closed and a welcome smile forms across his mouth as his face
presses between her neck and shoulder.
Sparx’s own stunned expression melts into one of relief and gratitude.
“Daddy,” she breathes.
No sooner had the embrace begun, as Sparx’s father was ushering her into the
humble home. Sparx’s eyes light afresh upon the sight of other members of her
kin gathered about the small living room.
“Mom!” she exclaims and immediately launches herself at the feathery, blonde
pixie woman who had stood as her daughter entered the room.
“Oh, Sparx,” her mom cries. “It’s been too long. I’ve missed you so.” She
holds Sparx’s face in her slender hands and kisses her forehead.
“Hey, sis,” comes another familiar voice. Sparx spins to look into the eyes of
her older brother. His wife is leaning against him with one hand on his shoulder
and her other arm draped around the top of his back. Their two young children, the
twins, are fluttering excitedly about chanting, “Auntie! Auntie!”
Sparx’s face lights up once again and she throws her arms wide around them
all.
Once the greetings had died down, Sparx’s father asks, “So Sparx, what brings
you to Grandma’s tonight?”
Sparx takes a deep breath, collects her thoughts, and then says. “Please,
everybody. Have a seat. It’s kind of a long story.”
CHAPTER 30
Antoine and Raven sit at the foot of his bed, the candlelight casts a flickering
glow on their faces. Raven is still silent, looking at Antoine with her unreadable
eyes.
He draws a pointy nail across the palm of his opposite hand. Blood seeps to the
surface. He makes a fist with the bleeding hand and squeezes it over a chalice
resting on a bench near the bed. The crimson fluid trickles darkly from his
trembling fist and drips wetly into the cup.
Raven now watches Antoine’s actions with an expression that is a mixture of
apprehension, anticipation, and maybe even thirst.
The blood flow stops. Antoine peers seductively into Raven’s violet eyes.
“Drink this,” he suggests, offering the vessel to her.
She nervously looks between Antoine and the chalice he is offering.
“It will not make you a vampire, Raven, if that is what worries you,” Antoine
says looking very serious. “Only my bite can do that.”
Raven looks questioningly into Antoine’s face. Her lips start to move, but stop
before any words form.
“It will temporarily give you some of my powers,” he offers as explanation to
the question he anticipated she wanted to ask.
She looks hard at Antoine. What was this new expression crossing her
features? Mistrust? Temptation? She starts to send her hands toward the gift.
Fragile digits hesitate only inches from the cup. Raven is now staring intently at
the object. Her tongue wets her petite lips. She darts a nervous glance back at
Antoine.
“Yes…..That’s right. Go on, Raven. It is good….” Antoine whispers through a
smile.
Her eyes are once again transfixed by the blood chalice. At last, she grasps the
vessel, hungrily raising it to her parched mouth. Her eyes close as the first drops
of the scarlet substance are received.
“Mmmmmmm,” Antoine murmurs, cupping the base of the glass and helping to
tilt it to her eager lips. Raven’s eyes open again and lock onto Antoine’s, as a
small dribble of blood escapes the corner of her mouth.
“Yesssss,” Antoine says, removing the empty chalice from Raven’s grasp. He
sets it back on the bench without breaking eye contact with her. “What pleasures
you will know tonight…..”
CH 31
The current is strong. Nakira has made tremendous time. She is still following
the Leo Constellation. She scans the waters to try and spot some shadows of land.
A darker patch near the horizon catches her attention. She steers towards it.
She passes an outcropping of rocks on her starboard, then another to port.
She can start to make out the faintest hint of a coastline. The weak glow of the
whites of breaking waves create a semi-linear outline. The dark shadow beyond is
land.
Suddenly, a dull screech sounds from below and is instantly accompanied by a
tremble through her boat. There are rocky outcroppings on either side now, barely
above the water line.
“Shit,” Nakira mutters on a held breath.
Her small craft continues to float through the shallow waters. Nakira exhales in
relief, as the rubbing and vibrating cease.
She focuses, her sight on the vicinity she is encroaching upon. She does not see
any more walk.
CRASH!
Her vessel lurches abruptly and Nakira is nearly thrown overboard. A loud
groaning is coming from below the hull. The current is still trying to pull the boat,
but the keel must be lodged in a rocky shallow.
She scrambles about and discovers a single oar. She thrusts it down the outside
into the water, but does not come into contact with anything solid. She tries again
from all other sides of the watercraft with the same results.
“Dammit (or damn it, depends on whether you want to use slang)!” she swears.
The boat is swaying slightly as the rush of water surges and ebbs. The wooden
creaking continues, as the keel remains stubbornly fixed in place.
“Just great,” Nakira says shaking her head. She looks again to the shoreline. It
is maybe half a mile away. She glances again at the water rushing past her boat.
She sits on the edge of the craft with her legs dangling into the dark water. She
scoots herself closer to the edge, holding the sides with her hands. She still cannot
touch bottom, but can feel her legs being pushed as the next surge squeezes
through the confined space.
“Come on, where are you?” she asks out of frustration as she reaches down with
her toes seeking the solid object in which her vessel is lodged. She turns herself
around so she is facing the hull. Finally, as she lowers herself to chest deep water,
her feet strike solid ground.
“Ok, here goes nothing,” she breathes and then lowers herself into the murky
liquid.
There is no light under the boat. She is almost swept away by the next rush of
water as her hands seek a new purchase on which to grasp. Her feet are no help as
the rock is very slick. She finally grasps the keel as her legs are pushed to the side
with the current.
Even under water, she can still hear the groaning as the water tugs the boat, but
the keel remains lodged.
Nakira follows the length of the keel until her fingers came across the problem.
The last foot of the wooden fin is securely wedged in a triangular inlet of rock.
She grasps the keel firmly and lodges her feet against the least slippery rock she
can find. She pushes hard with her legs and is surprised by the loud sound
magnified through the water.
CRACK!
The keel gives suddenly.
The wooden fin has tilted too severely. It moves freely in her hands now. A
jagged piece juts from the top. Above, Nakira can see bubbles and a ragged hole
in the bottom of the boat.
CRACK!
The keel gives suddenly.
The wooden fin has tilted too severely. It moves freely in her hands now. A
jagged piece juts from the top. Above, Nakira can see bubbles and a ragged hole
in the bottom of the boat.
Crap! She thinks to herself.
She pushes off from the bedrock and shoots to the surface. Nakira grabs the
side of the boat and drags herself on board. She splashes down in the bottom of
the sailing vessel. Water is steadily gurgling in.
“No!” Nakira yells at the gash in the hull.
Outside, progress is being made once again, now that there is no longer a keal
to catch on any more shallows. Unfortunately, at the rate water is being take on,
the boat will be sunk within another minute.
“Damn my superhuman strength,” Nakira mutters as she searches about the
flogsam and jetsom within the bathtub with a sail. A small pail floats to her. She
picks it up and looks at it and then back at the half-full hull and laughs
despairingly. She tosses the useless bucket aside and then steadies herself against
the sail.
She steps out of the nearly full hull and up onto the boom, holding herself
against the mast.
The surf is still over a quarter mile away when the boat sinks. Nakira releases
the mast and starts to swim for it.
A few minutes pass and she stops to tread water and survey her progress. She
can hear the rush of water and the pounding of waves. She is just about to
continue swimming when she feels something brush past her leg.
“Now what?” she demands.
In answer to her question, she sees a triangular fin emerge from the water with a
course set directly for her.
CHAPTER 32
Koalpans are everywhere. Some of the human occupants of the lodge are
engaged in conversations with the bear-like creatures. An old, skinny man with
long, grey hair is kneeling over one of the dear crows. He looks as if he is
mourning its death.
Nick and Drake are once again perched upon the roof of the lodge surveying the
scene below. They note with despondence the party of Koalpans at the open door
of the tree stump barn.
“This is impossible!” Nick exclaims in hushed tones.
Drake: So much for sneaking back unnoticed.
An enlightened expression forms on Nick’s face. He smiles and pats Drake’s
neck.
“I think I’ve got an idea,” he says. Then adds, “Let’s go down there and face
them…..And let me do the talking.”
Drake: Ummmm – but I can only talk to you anyways…….
Nick regards his companion appraisingly, turning his mouth down and nodding
his head. He replies, “Right. Well, that settles that, then. Come on.”
The two swoop down from the roof and land solidly on the ground. Their
dramatic entrance generates many gasps from the crowd milling about the crime
scene.
The old man that is now holding the bloody, black bird, recoils smartly at the
sudden appearance of the green dragon and rider. Among the commotion of all the
others present, he takes his deceased crow and backs away.
“Cheecha Wow!” yells a startled Koalpan. Clearly, dragon sightings are not an
everyday occurrence here.
The crowd of Koalpans huddle together, visibly trembling. Some hold torches,
others have crude, wooden spears with stone tips. None venture toward the beast
whose mass is greater than theirs combined.
The innkeeper is amongst the Koalpans gathered. He points a furry finger up at
Nick and yells, “Ha! Tinka roo!”
“Ooooooo,” is the general consensus from the other Koalpans.
Drake lowers his head, his glowing eyes swirling in the night.
“Uhhhh!” yell the Koalpans and they all step backwards toward the lodge.
Nick dismounts and holds up his hands at chest level in a reassuring manner.
He glances sideways at Drake and pats the dragon’s snout as he proceeds towards
the startled Koalpans. A few of the spear bearers jab at the air threateningly.
“OO! OO!” they grunt.
“Easy,” Nick says cautioningly. “Easy now. That’s right. Friend,” he says
pointing to himself.
The Koalpan innkeeper points toward the multitude of dead crows and the burnt
remains of a vampire and says, “Kaw mm da.”
“Yes, it’s alright,” Nick replies softly, still with hands at chest level and slightly
outstretched. “I am a Dragon Rider. I have been tracking vampires from the City
of Aldin.”
The Koalpan eyes him suspiciously and then points to one of the dead birds and
kicks it. “E Kaw?” he asks.
Nick regards the many crow corpses strewn about and then returns to the
Koalpan’s gaze. He replies, “The birds were under a spell. You have a guest here
that arrived with one, yes?”
At this, the furry creature turns to some of his curious comrades. He mutters
something in a low voice. The others nod in understanding. They begin to turn
about, scanning the human guests who are still standing around, looking rather
frightened.
Not seeing who they are looking for, the innkeeper points some of the torch
carriers and spear bearers to the last room on the third floor. They set off
immediately, ascending the nearest set of stairs.
Nick and Drake note the direction the Koalpan search party is heading and
watch their progress with rapt interest.
The posse arrives at the door and knocks vigorously. One of the torch carriers
yells, “U Oga!”
There is no reply. They repeat this formality once more before two of the spear
bearers step forward and ram the door with their shoulders. Upon the third attempt
the barrier breaches and the torch carriers sweep past and into the room.
Moments later the leader of the search party returns to the third floor railing and
looks down at the innkeeper. He shakes his head.
“He’s already gone!” Nick whispers to Drake. Other Koalpans scurry about
now, searching the premises.
Nick turns to Drake once again. He asks the dragon, “Are you thinking what
I’m thinking?”
Drake: The docks at the river?
“Right,” Nick replies. Before the innkeeper can protest, Nick is back in Drake’s
saddle and the two are airborne.
The river docks are only a short distance and Nick and Drake can see a sailing
yacht slipping silently downstream. Some of the Koalpans are shouting excitedly
and running toward the wooden planks of the dock.
The current has got a hold of the boat, and it is sailing steadily down river. The
Crow Master is unfurling the sail to take advantage of the wind at his back. He
looks nervously towards the docks behind him and sees the Koalpans untying a
few other boats to attempt a pursuit. He glances at the skies above, but cannot spot
the dragon anywhere.
Suddenly, the canvas and mast before him ignite in bright orange and yellow
flames.
The old man yells and falls with his back to the deck. Pieces of the sail are
ripping away and their fiery tatters fly away in the breeze.
The sailing yacht rolls sharply to its port side. The motion causes the old Crow
Master to fly to his feet. He grabs the helm to keep from falling towards the
inferno.
Most of the sail has burned away now. Through the gaping hole in the center of
the flames, Drake’s glowing ruby eyes appear. The boat is tilted so much under
the dragon’s weight, that the Crow Master can only hold on for dear life.
Faster than a striking snake, Drake darts his head forward and snatches the old
man up by the back of his shirt. The dragon retracts back through the boom and
the mast and starts to flap his wings. In doing so, the sailing yacht settles back to
it’s normal resting position in the water as Drake’s mass transfers to the burden of
his flight appendages.
The man is screaming and hollering the entire time. The he stops his
exultations as he notices how small the boat is getting.
Drake continues to ascend. He swivels his large head on his long neck, so that
the Crow Master is facing Nick.
“Nice night, eh?” Nick greets the old man. Nick sees the Crow Master’s
weathered face contort in rage.
“You murdered my Kaw!” he seethes at Nick.
“Yeah, about that. If by Kaw, you mean that murderous flock of crows
shredding my dragon’s wings, then, yeah, I tore them up real good,” Nick replies,
smiling mockingly.
The man flails his thin limbs about furiously.
“Why, I ought to….,” before the Crow Master can finish this last thought, the
back of his shirt starts to rip from his thrashings. His body lurches down a notch.
The fury leaves his face at once and he glances down at the river that now appears
to be a shimmering thread winding through a vast forest.
When he looks back up at Nick, a fearful expression has replaced the former
rage and he hazards a nervous laugh. His demeanor changes as well.
“Uh. Ha ha ha. Good one, kid. That’s okay. What do you say we discuss this
down on the ground, huh?”
Nick holds a hand up to his ear and says, “What did you say? You want
down?” Nick looks to Drake and nods.
The dragon obliges, releasing his grasp on the Crow master. The man drops
like a brick.
“Ahhhhh!” screams the old man as he plummets to the earth. He is kicking his
legs frantically and spinning his arms like windmills. All the while, his eyes are
transfixed by the trees and river that are not so tiny anymore.
“Ahhhhh!” he goes on.
Suddenly, he is snatched up by a large claw that wraps around him like a raptor
would grab a snake.
They continue their flight toward the ground, but now under Drake’s control.
As they approach the banks of the Aldin River, the dragon hovers several feet from
the ground and releases his captive to roll in the damp sand.
The old man grips the moist earth like it is the most precious thing he has ever
encountered. Drake and Nick land right next to him. When the Crow Master
continues to cling to the ground, Drake nudges his body and flips the old man over.
The contorted rage has returned to the Crow Master’s face. He hisses
something malevolent in a foreign language neither Nick nor Drake recognize.
And then in finality, the old man spits at the ground near the dragon’s feet.
“I get the feeling he doesn’t like us very much,” Nick says to Drake.
The dragon nods his wedge-shaped head in agreement.
“Who sent you?”, Nick asks with his arms folded across his chest.
“Go to hell!” retorts the Crow Master.
“Hm. I guess our friend here wants to go for another ride,” Nick says to Drake,
but loud enough for the old man to hear.
It was all the urging the dragon needed. Just as quickly as before, Drake
snatches the Crow Master before he can even flinch.
“Put me down you ugly, overgrown lizard!” yells the old man. One of his
flailing feet manages to kick a heel into Drake’s under jaw.
“Grrrr,” roars the dragon with narrowing eyes and smoke smoldering from his
nostrils.
“Oooooo – you shouldn’t have done that,” Nick tells the Crow Master with a
grimace.
Drake swings his massive head back up the river bank. Then, he snaps it back
toward the river like a sling shot, releasing his grip on the old man at the last
second.
“Ahhhhh!” yells the Crow Master as he is flung low and quickly across the
water. The front half of his body makes contact with the water several times as he
skips across the river. He finally sinks at the halfway point after four skips.
Drake is already upon him, yanking the old man from the water like a bear
catching salmon. They are in the sky again, soaring even higher this time.
Drake lines up his head so the Crow Master is facing Nick again. His long,
grey hair is soaked and sweeps over half the man’s face.
He looks like a drowned rat.
“Hey, this is kinda fun. How you holding up there, Drake?” Nick inquires,
smiling at his dragon. He nods his head and then to the Crow Master says, “He
says he can do this all night long. How about you? Had enough?”
The old man glances down. This time all he can see are clouds. No telling how
high they are. He attempts to give Nick a sour look, but instead just appears
pathetic. He closes his eyes and nods.
“Good,” Nick says. “Now, what’s your name?”
The Crow Master glances from Nick’s unwavering gaze back toward the
endless night sky below. Finally, with a look of resignation, the old man returns
his attention to the Dragonrider and replies, “Finnigan.”
CHAPTER 33
The Watch Dragon of Highland Den is perched atop his thin tower at the
summit of Boldever Mountain. He is literally at the top of the world. He draws
comfort from the thermal vent that runs the length of his watch tower and descends
for miles into the heart of the dormant volcano in which Dragonkind reside.
Boldever Mountain stands head and shoulders above all its block-faulted
neighboring peaks, it’s immensity the result of millions upon millions of years of
geologic activity.
A hot spot in the planet’s mantle burns through the crust from hence the
mountain sprang, like a magnifying glass focusing the sun’s rays on a piece of
paper. The volcanic magma released pushed and folded the more rigid materials
until finally bursting forth and spraying molten lava into the atmosphere for
millennia.
This is how the creator gave rise to dragons. They sprang into the world from
the fires from which they were born. The dragons ruled the world supreme, long
before the creator had even dreamed of man.
Boldever Mountain is not only home to Dragonkind, but the site of their first
origins. Even as the volcano had continued to belch forth its deadly liquid,
dragons came and went as they pleased, impervious to the natural disaster that had
begot them.
As millennia wore on and the fierceness of the volcanism subsided, so too did
each forthcoming generation of dragon lose a little of its tolerance to lava. The
frequency of eruptions diminished. Dragons adapted to cooler environments.
The beasts that at one time glowed with molten bodies and whose proximity to
any other living being would cause it to spontaneously combust, eventually
metamorphosed its own skin to mimic life outside of the volcano. Their innards
remained fiery and required the changing creatures to ‘vent’ this heat in the form
of fire breathing.
Modern dragons retain invulnerability to fire, but would perish in the grips of
magma. All that remains of the flesh of their ancestors are their glowing eyes, a
reminder of their indestructible origins.
The watchdragon’s keen vision intercepts the approach of an elite wing
formation – only seven dragons compared to the usual thirteen. He cannot see
their colors due to the night sky, but the formation itself tells the watchdragon they
are all as black as shadows.
He bugles a signal down the thermal vent that also serves as a calling tube, the
reverberations echoing through all levels of Highland Den. This means of
communication is actually even more efficient than the telepathy that is limited to
one link at a time.
Everyone hears the signal and knows its meaning. An elite wing is approaching
from Talonclaw, Highland Den’s sister location in the Dragon Isles to the south.
Word of the crow massacre has gotten out.
The great, dark beasts are even larger than Bjorgon and Skyhalla. Their
piercing golden eyes shine differently from other dragons – more metallic, yet still
luminous. They approach the crevasses in the face of the cliffs with precision and
confidence.
The lead rider pulls the protective hood from his head as they set down on the
smooth floors of the hangar. His brilliant blonde hair contrasts from his dark
brown, brooding eyes. He is ruggedly handsome, but his face is marred by a deep
scar upon his left profile, running from cheek to jaw.
He dismounts from his enormous black dragon and lands lightly on his feet.
His riders follow suit, flanking their leader in a similar pattern to a Dragon Wing
formation.
The header heads directly up to Valkyr, who is waiting near the end of the
hangar at the entrance to the keep.
“Uncle, welcome,” Valkyr greets the older, more war torn man with an
outstretched hand.
Richard grasps it at once and pulls his nephew to him, clapping his back
repeatedly with his other hand in a half embrace.
“Aye, Valkyr, tis’ good to see ya,” greets the uncle, then continues, “Please,
you are no longer the laddie I used to train – call me Richard.”
“Very well, un….Richard,” Valkyr corrects himself. He looks upon his uncle
and notes the haunted expression in his eyes and the dark circles beneath them.
Valkyr realizes that the loss he had suffered recently was really his first taste of
death. The man before him had known little else in his own life for many years.
Valkyr turns to a group of dragon keep attendants. “See to our guest’s dragons,
please,” Valkyr asks politely.
The group saunter over to the ebony creatures who have taken to preening their
wings or looking about in boredom.
“I had forgotten how large they are,” Valkyr comments to Richard while gazing
upon the seven black dragons.
Richard follows Valkyr’s gaze and beams at his own dragon.
“Aye, they are somethin’,” Richard replies vacantly.
“Come, Uncle – I mean Richard, we have a dinner prepared for you and your
riders. My attendants will see that your dragons are fed, cleaned and comfortably
housed for the evening,” Valkyr says putting a hand on Richard’s shoulder and
steering him toward the stone steps that led to the rest of Highland Den.
Richard looks about his surroundings reminiscently then says, “Ah, Valkyr, ow’
this place reminds me of different times.”
“I know, uncle, I know,” Valkyr replies, putting his arm around Richard’s
shoulders and patting it comfortingly as they stride up the first of the stone steps.
Chapter 34
Vlad is seated at a desk. He removes a journal from his jacket and opens it to
his last entry and then turns the page once more to start a new one. He produces a
feathery quill from a desk drawer and dips the point in the ink well. He starts his
entry:
Today’s date
The queen still lives. I do take some comfort in knowing that many dragons
and riders perished during the attack. The alliance with the Skiwa is proving
worthy.
Made contact with the hybrid this evening. Link with the Ooze has grown
stronger now that he is almost adult.
The Ooze has chosen to give the hybrid incredible speed. It was interesting to
observe through his perspective, how much slower everything else moves in
comparison.
The hybrid and his vampiric dragon should prove useful tools for my bidding,
once the Ooze has consumed him completely.
I shall make contact with him again…………….
Tomorrow, I will visit the catacombs in the City of Aldin to create a diversion
in order to summon the Dragon Riders. Once they have left Highland Den, I will
have the spy kill the queen’s rider. No dragon has ever chosen to live after losing
their life partner.
The queen will soon be dead and then the dragons will soon die out with no way
to repopulate.
I will inherit the world!
CHAPTER 35
“Well, Sparx, you certainly have been busy, haven’t you?” says the father pixie.
He regards his daughter with a pained expression, one that is reserved for when a
parent realizes they can no longer shield their child from the world.
“Honey, I wish the world was a nice place. There has been a war waging
between dragon and vampire for a very long time.
“We pixies try to keep ourselves hidden from everyone, enjoying our own
paradise and exploring all there is to see.
“But, I have feared for awhile that our kind will no longer be able to sit idly by
and be mere observers as good and evil continue their struggle for dominance.
“Humans are at the fulcrum of the conflict. We see in them the capacity for
either. The choice lies with the individual. Humans have not inhabited our world
as long as pixies or dragons. But, because the Creator chose them to be protected
from all that is evil, when the time comes, we must side with them as well.
“Vampires are only one type of evil, Sparx. We have never given you the
images of the Rift continent, but we believe that it is from here that all evil
originates.
The crows with the bloody eyes that were attacking your friend’s dragon, that
was the work of the Skiwa. They are a strange and evil people of that forsaken
continent.
“It was believed that as long as they were left to their home, undisturbed, that
they would refrain from using their wicked conjurations on the rest of the world.
“Humans are as curious as Pixie folk, but whereas we are content with
exploring and observing, humans have a thirst for conquest and exploitation.
“Human settlements have encroached upon the Skiwa lands in recent years. We
have witnessed killings by both parties. In many ways, the Skiwa are justified in
their actions. It does not seem fair to them that the Creator smiles so favorably on
the humans.”
Sparx interrupts at this point, “but the old man I saw with the crow was human
dad!”
“Human, yes, Sparx, but the Skiwa have made a pact with evil. They have
turned their backs on the gifts the creator has provided and chosen a dark talent
from deep within the Rift Continent.”
“Father, I don’t understand,” confesses Sparx. “You say that the Skiwa have
chosen a dark gift from the Rift continent, but if the Creator made that as well, then
how can it be evil?”
“An astute observation, my daughter,” replies the pixie father. “Yes, the creator
made the whole world and all life upon it. However, something else came here,
Sparx. Something very wrong. For all we know, it was trapped deep within the
bowels of the planet, like a dark seed. Or, perhaps, it was somewhere beyond,
drifting through space with its sinister purpose and just happened across our
beautiful world – tainting it with its foul malignance.”
“What is it, daddy” Sparx asks. She had been hanging on every word her father
had been saying.
“None of our people have ever seen it, Sparx, but we have seen its
manifestations in various life forms. The Skiwa are one, vampires are another.
Some believe that all life used to exist peacefully before the ancient evil arrived.
No life required the flesh of another to sustain itself. That is believed to be the
work of the Evil, also.”
“Dad, what if this Evil has got a hold of Nick? He’s always been a vampire, but
he’s never killed a human before. The creature I saw tonight, it wasn’t him…..his
eyes – they were like pools of oil. The way he killed that other vampire and
feasted on its blood……he liked it. He enjoyed killing,” Sparx recalls, tears
coming to her eyes.
Sparx’s father holds his daughter to his chest and pats the back of her head.
“There, there, Sparx. I wish this hadn’t happened to you. I think your friend Nick
is very unique. No vampire has ever been a dragon rider. It’s an oxymoron if I’ve
ever heard of one. I suspect that he is a key to all this somehow. I think you
should take me to meet him.”
Sparx gasps at this suggestion and gapes at her father with an astonished
expression.
CHAPTER 36
Several rows of triangular teeth line the shark’s impressive jaw. It snaps
viciously at Nakira, but she places her hand on the top of its nose just in time. The
shark thrashes past her grip and circles for its next attack.
Nakira is treading water and turns to follow the progress of the dorsal fin.
The fin dips below the surface.
“Come on!” yells Nakira. She dives underwater, but can barely see her own
hands.
She extends her claws and canine fangs. Her vampire eyes attempt to pierce the
shadowy liquid.
WHACK!
The shark slaps Nakira from behind with its propulsive tail. The action is so
forceful that it causes her to somersault and become disoriented. She has sunk
below the killing machine of the seas.
As luck would have it, this perspective provides Nakira’s vision with just
enough light from the surface to silhouette her hunter’s form. It has momentarily
lost track of its prey and is still searching near the surface.
As the shark makes it next pass directly above her, Nakira thrusts her right hand
up into the rubbery tissue under its throat. Blood mixes with the ocean in a dark
cloud. The shark instantly panics, swimming and thrashing with all its might.
It is dragging Nakira further from shore.
She retracts her claws and an even greater cloud of blood billows forth. She
does not wait to see if the wound is mortal. She swims toward the shore once
again, breaking the surface of the water and kicking rapidly with her legs.
More fins have surfaced, their owners drawn by the scent of blood. A shark
brushes past Nakira’s body and she turns to see splashing behind her.
Multiple killers are in a frenzy, feasting upon the body of their fallen brethren.
She continues her swim to the shore, putting as much distance between herself
and the sharks as possible.
After several minutes of her panic-driven flight, Nakira sees she is nearly upon
the beach. She forces herself to an upright position and finds that the water level is
at mid-rift.
Her legs stumble in the transition and she lurches forward, splashing her face in
the salty water and catching her fall with her hands.
She coughs up some water and drags herself up the wet sands, collapsing with
the shallowest of water still lapping at her body and then receding back to its
home.
Nakira rolls up shore once more so she is facing land. She opens her eyes, still
recovering from her exertions and breathing hard.
She sees a warm glow a little inland and a small plume of smoke rising into the
starry night. She pushes against the damp shore to right herself and get a better
view.
There, upon a gentle rise, sits a coastal cottage. Firelight flickers through the
front window and the chimney at the roof line is puffing away.
Nakira stands up and brushes the wet sand from her body as best she can. She
wrings her soaked hair and pushes it back from her face. Setting a fixed stare upon
the seaside home, she sets off in its direction, walking with a purpose.
CHAPTER 37
Drake releases Finnigan roughly to the ground at the feet of the gathered
Koalpans. The short, furry creatures still back up apprehensively in the presence
of the enormous dragon.
Drake flaps his wings once more and then settles to the ground, sending a small
puff of dust from the dirt in the process.
Nick hops down from the saddle and regards the Koalpans, who are now
looking eager to seize the skinny old man. “He is my prisoner. I must take him
back to the City of Aldin tomorrow to face his charges.”
The bear-like creatures murmur amongst themselves at Nick’s statement.
Koalpan lands are sovereign within the land of Aldin, however, the victims of the
attack were human – no Koalpans were injured.
After seeing the nods and general agreement from the others, the innkeeper
(whom Nick was starting to wonder if was also mayor), nods as well and says,
“Shaw.”
Nick removes some rope from his knapsack and binds Finnigan’s wrists behind
his back. He motions to the tree stump barn and gets a scowl in response from the
Crow Master.
Nick gives him a shove in the intended direction and Drake growls menacingly
at the old man as well.
At this, the Koalpans back away and part from the path they have been
blocking.
Finnigan gives the same look to the dragon but proceeds to walk toward the
large, redwood stump.
The dragon and rider follow closely behind and the Koalpans watch on,
whispering in their primitive language.
Once inside, Nick closes and latches the big door while Drake guards their
captive. Finnigan sits down against the wooden wall facing the two that had bested
him. He does not say anything, but his eyes smolder with contempt.
Nick finds some more rope in the barn and fastens it securely around the old
man’s ankles.
“Just in case you get any bright ideas,” Nick explains with a smug smile.
Drake settles back into his straw bed, still facing Finnigan and allowing a few
puffs of smoke to escape his nostrils as a reminder of some of the dragon’s other
abilities…………
Nick had just started to remove the saddle from Drake when…….
Pop!
Sparx and another pixie appear in midair, with twice the usual glitter falling
about.
“Huh?” Nick exclaims, wheeling on his heels at the sound.
Drake: I knew she’d come back.
“Sparx!” Nick cries, a heartfelt smile on his face. But there were more. He
looked relieved.
Sparx floats back a little as Nick takes a step towards her. She regards him
warily.
The relieved expression and smile vanish from Nick’s face and are replaced by
a look of dejection. But he takes the hint and drops his arms to his sides, taking a
step back.
The other pixie is more mature looking and male in gender. He places a
protective arm around Sparx and regards Nick with consternation.
Then Sparx notices the skinny old man bound and huddled against the tree
stump wall.
“Bzzzz. Twirp…Zzzz,” Sparx says motioning to the Crow Master.
Drake: She says, ‘you caught him.’
“Yeah, well, Drake helped a little, too,” Nick replies and gives the dragon a hint
of a smile.
Sparx motions to the other pixie and says, “Screach bz da.”
Drake: Nick, the other one is her dad.
Nick’s mouth forms an exaggerated ‘OH’, without the accompanying sound.
He stands a little straighter and gives the pixie man a respectful look and then says,
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Nick starts to produce his hand for a handshake, but
sees the narrowing eyes and stern look Sparx’s dad gives him and thinks better of
it.
The pixie man folds his arms across his chest while he and Sparx are still
hovering at Nick’s eye level. Finally he says, “Chirp. Ssss. Gggg.”
Nick looks to Drake for the interpretation.
Drake: Hold on, Nick. He sounds a little different than Sparx. I think he said
something about needing to have a talk with you.
Nick thinks he knows where this is going. He sighs heavily, nodding his head
and looking at the ground. Finally, he meets Sparx’s father’s gaze again and says,
“I’m sure you know my name is Nick. Please, may we be formally introduced?”
He looks back to Sparx again.
“Zzzz. Pop. Tweet,” Sparx says motioning to her father.
Drake: Her dad’s name is ‘Pop’.
“Her pop’s name is ‘Pop’?” Nick repeats. A small laugh escapes him as he
looks at Pop.
Pop does not look amused.
Nick stifles his smile and coughs, holding his fist to his mouth. His eyes are
still laughing, though. Finally, Nick clears his throat and stands stiffly once more.
“Nice to meet you……Pop,” Nick says keeping as straight a face as he can.
“Tiki-buz-woo,” Pop says flying toward Nick and motioning his attention to
one of his hands while pointing to Nick’s temple with the other.
Nick looks confused. He turns to Drake and asks, “What’s he trying to do?”
Drake: Ummmm, I think he wants to touch your face. I don’t know. Maybe it’s
some kind of pixie custom.
Nick looks back to Pop warily, but allows him to fly up to his face and place his
fingers at Nick’s temple. Once the contact was made, Nick realizes this is not how
the pixies say hello.
Images start to flash before Nick’s eyes. He sees crows attack people and
humans lynching Crow Masters. He sees dark magic being summoned and people
whose eyes cloud with blood, much the same as the crows they control.
The barrage of scenes flicker across Nick’s mind’s eye in fragments.
Somehow, Sparx’s dad knows about the Crow Masters and is trying to tell Nick
something.
He sees a tall and handsome vampire, striking some kind of deal with the Crow
Masters. Other vampires are present and they offer blood to the Crow people.
The vampire leader looks strangely familiar to Nick.
Then, just as suddenly as the information was shared with Nick, he feels a
probing into his own mind. Images are rushing before him once again, but this
time they are his own memories.
Pop is extracting from Nick’s mind. He sees the visions of the Rift Continent
and gasps. Then they are flying down the fissure and enter the blue, luminescent
cavern. He can feel the presence of the Evil One.
Suddenly, the vision is tainted in red and Pop is witnessing the carnage Nick
carried out earlier in the evening, completed with his daughter vanishing at the
sight of Nick.
The mental exchange is complete. Pop and Nick can only stare at one another
in awe and wonder.
CHAPTER 38
Vlad’s vaporous form flies south from Port of Frios at a startling pace. He soon
is crossing the Dragon Isles, the mountainous islands blurring by.
Another body of water appears on the horizon and then Vlad is upon that, as
well. The glowing mist is now racing across the Eastern Sea. Vast expanses of
ocean are traversed in a matter of minutes.
Another small cluster of islands come into view. Moments later they are behind
Vlad. Then a large, jutting region of coastline is visible. The phantom fog soon is
sailing over this feature also.
Dark patches of farmland show beneath the evening sky. Little hamlets here
and there dot the plains. Finally, a much grander glow shows from beyond rows of
distance hills.
The coastline reappears to the south, forming the Bay of Aldin. A premier
coastal city glimmers in the night at the confluence of the bay and Aldin River.
Alas……The City of Aldin.
CHAPTER 39
The formal dining hall of Highland Den is similar to the great council hall in
that it leaves the occupants feeling diminutive in the stone grandeur. The notable
difference of this hall is the rectangular tables as opposed to the giant redwood
cross-section of the council room.
It is a busy evening at supper, the dining room is at capacity. Though a certain
melancholy dominates the atmosphere, the musicians playing for the benefit of
Richard and his Riders from the south, attempt to lift the spirits of those in
attendance.
“Lyra is looking exceptionally radiant this evening,” Malthor comments to
Valkyr in between sips of wine, motioning to the dragon lady acting the part of
hostess as she mills about the guests from Talonclaw.
“I believe the pregnancy is starting to suit her better,” replies Valkyr, also
admiring the glow about her.
“A foyn’ young woman she has grown to be,” chimes in Richard. “I
remember when she was just a wee lass, scampering about Highland Den with the
young princess.”
“Skyhalla is Queen now, Richard,” reminds Valkyr.
“Aye. Would’a made her mother proud, that one,” Richard says with a sigh and
hint of hurt over recalling Gemini, the former queen.
She is already showing signs of filling with eggs,” Malthor tosses in gleefully.
“Should be quite a clutch,” he adds with a nod, raising his goblet in toast.
Suddenly, Richard’s haunted eyes flare with anger toward the councilman and
former dragon rider. Richard’s voice rises in accusation, “And a damn fool thing
that was, Malthor! Lettn’ a pregnant queen leave the protection of the Den!” His
loudness and sudden vehemence brought the band to a halt.
All eyes look nervously between the elite leader of the south and their own
highly regarded senior councilman.
But, instead of continuing with his barrage, Richard becomes silent, returning
his haunted gaze to the meal in front of him.
Valkyr motions to the small orchestra with a lifted finger. The music continues.
Malthor’s face looks stricken and hurt, but does not try to defend himself. He
sees that Valkyr wants to say something, but a halting hand and shake of head from
the senior councilman dissuade him. He takes one more drink from his cup and
pats the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin. Scooting his chair back and
standing, Malthor announces, “I just remembered I have some business to attend
to. Lovely meal this evening. My compliments to the chef. Now – if you all will
excuse me…..”(not sure if supposed to put a period here, it looks odd without it).
And with that, Malthor withdraws himself from the dinner table and walks
briskly from the dining hall.
By this time, Lyra had made her rounds and had returned to Valkyr’s side with
a concerned look over Richard’s outburst toward Malthor. She frowns and says to
Valkyr in a hushed voice, “What was that all about?”
“Uncle’s just had a long trip. He’s probably tired,” Valkyr replies to Lyra in an
equally low voice. He looks across at the brooding Richard and wonders how he
could go on after suffering the loss of his mate, unborn child, and the former queen
dragon.
Richard, for his part, is preoccupied with consuming his meal and has stopped
conversating due to the task at hand.
“Richard,” Lyra says at last, noticing everyone else’s reluctance to engage the
Talonclaw dragonman after her outburst. “Is the food to your liking?” She smiles
warmly at her guest.
Richard pauses, still trying to clear his palate. He looks up at Lyra as if she
had spoken in a foreign language. Eventually, he processes the question, but
repeats partly, “To me likn’?”
He releases his silverware next to his plate and slightly raises his hands so the
side remains on the table, but the fingers flared. He looks back at his plate and
then meets Lyra’s eyes with his own dark and haunted ones, replying, “Yes,
m’dear. Quite good…..”
***
Malthor enters his office in a rush and closes the door behind him firmly. He
goes to a cabinet behind his desk and removes a small vile.
Contemplating the contents, Malthor lowers his head and squeezes his eyes
shut. Abruptly, he re-opens them and twists the top off the vile. He quickly downs
the scarlet contents and then braces himself with his other hand gripping the top of
the chair.
At first, nothing transpires, then as Malthor begins to loosen his grip on the
chair back, his body is wracked by a massive convulsion.
Fear flashes across the councilman’s eyes, and then something else……..
The light blue flecks of his irises are briefly flushed with an oily liquid and then
return to normal.
His body stops shaking.
Malthor starts to relax again. But, as he looks down at the hand that had
grasped the chair to steady him, he notices that he has ripped a chunk of the solid
wood apart.
CHAPTER 40
After the initial turbulent reaction to the vampire’s blood, Raven did indeed
know pleasures of the likes she had never experienced.
Now, in the wake of their carnal knowledge, she finds herself drifting to a fitful
sleep. The slumber is deep, but the dreams that flash before her mind are
nightmarish at best – deeply disturbing is a more apt description of the horrors
dancing through her head.
She is crawling up a grassy slope. Her hands feel slick and she keeps sliding
against her progress.
The night is cold and dark. Agonizing screams and hoarse whimpers fill her
ears.
The scent of blood is heavy.
As she reaches a curtailing to the rise, light is suddenly cast upon her and her
surroundings. What she sees is beyond morbid.
The grass all around, so slippery to her grasp, is revealed to be inundated with
the blood of countless corpses.
A single lantern is lightly swaying from a branch of an old and gnarled tree at
the summit before her. It’s light, the source providing the scene macabre.
The red crest of the hill is well illuminated, but shadowy light drifts to the
branches above the lantern. Still, it is all that is necessary for Raven’s eyes to
consume the tortured sign aloft.
The monstrous tree is host to hundreds of bodies dangling from various heights
and from an assortment of bindings.
Nearest the lantern, and therefore most well displayed are a couple of opposite
gender, apparently snatched up in mid-coitus. Their physical attraction is forever
memorialized in a lewd puppetry of perversion: fine wires protrude from their
flesh at strategic points about their nude bodies. The fastenings attach to thinner
braches overheard that sway in the crisp evening breeze – causing a necrophiliac
show as the lifeless pair continue their absurd thrustings by locomotion beyond
their abilities in death.
Both victims’ throats have been surgically opened and pinned back revealing
contrasting colors of bright whites and reds. The faces have turned a gruesome
mixture of pale white with purple erupting beneath the skin. Eyes and mouths are
sewn shut with a coarse black thread.
Raven’s screams are choked as no sooner had she taken in this god awful sight,
then her eyes are drawn to the next.
A pregnant woman is pinned to the main tree trunk with arms crucified to
branches at either side. Her intentions have been brought forth by means of a
bizarre and cruel operation rendering her abdomen into the form of a cuckoo clock
from hell.
More hysterics from Raven.
A particularly spiky tree limb has served as a skewer to create a human
schiskabob – four cadavers impaled one after another, but at slightly different
angles so as to create the effect of each successive face peering over the shoulder
of its predecessor.
Raven tries to take in all the rest of the perversions of death hung about the
gnarly tree, but the further up she looks the more the scene seems to sway, until it
begins to spin – a kaleidoscope of tattered flesh and faces twisted in the grip of
death.
The accompanying moans and wails abound as some of the victims are skinned
alive and have not yet found release from the torture of what remains of their lives.
All the while, the sadistic sights twirl above Raven’s upturned eyes. Nausea
rises in her throat and she spews forth her bile, but the tree continues to spin faster.
She cannot hear her own screams now as they are drowned amongst the agony
around her.
She continues to yell, but has to close her eyes. She covers her ears with palms
flat to her head. She can feel the dizziness of the movement carrying her into
oblivion.
She cannot stand it anymore. She is at the brink of insanity. As she passes into
madness, she can feel the bliss of darkness wash over her.
CHAPTER 41
Nakira’s face is a bloody mess, the living room of the seaside cottage is in
shambles.
An elderly couple cling to each other even in death; their pale and gaunt
features merely a shadow of their former selves. Their sightless eyes gape at the
ceiling.
“Thank you for supper,” Nakira says to her new found friends. The permanent
state she has left them in disallows any participation in the conversation on their
part.
Nakira wipes her sleeve across her bloodied face. She turns about, surveying
the many windows.
“This won’t do,” she says in realization of the approaching dawn.
Looking around the floor, her eyes settle again upon her latest victims. But,
more specifically, her attention is drawn to the rug their bodies are lain upon.
“Hmmmmm, I wonder…..” Nakira begins.
With that thought in mind, she kneels before the rug and proceeds to roll the
couple in its embroidered confines.
“AHA!” she exclaims as her work reveals a latch in the floorboards.
She grasps the metal ring and lifts. The boards and hinges protest to the
demand made upon them after such a long interlude of disuse. Their creaks and
groans receive no sympathy from Nakira and her vampire strength.
“What have we here?” she calls to the black hole she has discovered.
Used to her questions going unanswered, Nakira discerns the first rung of a
wooden ladder and lowers herself into the gloom.
“Yes, this will do nicely,” Nakira says and closes the lid after her.
CHAPTER 42
Sunrise comes to Koalpan Bend. The morning gives way to afternoon as the
furry creatures go about their business: another day, another dollar.
The afternoon wanes on and finally the sun tires of its duties and decides to sink
to the west. The last rays filter through the endless redwoods and then are gone.
The barn doors open on the giant tree stump. The jade dragon emerges with a
human package clasped gingerly between his teeth. The rider is in the saddle and
two miniscule glowing figures flutter about their heads.
Once in the clearing, Drake springs into the air, unfurling long wings and
working them rhythmically to continue the ascent.
The five are airborne and following the Aldin River to the East.
Next stop…..The city of Aldin.
CHAPTER 43
Vlad awakes the next evening with a ravenous thirst. His exertions from the
previous night had taken him halfway around the world.
He is pleasantly surprised to see that three humans have been left for his
consumption.
And consume he does.
Now that his immediate needs have been attended to, Vlad ventures down the
corridors of Aldin’s catacombs – every bit as grand and intricate as Vlad’s home in
Rayjlandic.
At last he seeks out his hostess, who has been awaiting the Ancient One’s
arrival.
“Lord Vladamere, to what do I owe the pleasure?” greets the vampiress. Her
brown hair and eyes are affixed to a pouty face with plump lips. Rosey cheeks
give color to an otherwise creamy, white complexion. Her gown is corseted at the
waist, accentuating her voluptuousness.
“My dear Cosette, how exceptionally lovely you look this evening,” Vlad
compliments, taking Cosette’s pale hand and planting a kiss upon its back side.
Her blush extends through much of her face as Cosette enjoys the touch of her
creator.
“Oh! My Vladamere, how you fluster a girl!” gushes Cosette while batting her
thick lashes. “But, you never call of late. Your Nikki keeping you busy, yes?”
“It’s Nakira,” Vlad corrects, “and yes, when I am not attending to affairs that
affect us all, then I am usually in her company, though…….” His voice drifts off.
Cosette’s face lights up as she notices the unhappy expression Vlad is wearing.
“Would you like a drink?” she inquires.
Vlad responds by raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Though blood is the object of
a vampire’s thirst, certain vintages of red wine are also palatable to their tastes.
Cosette smirks mischievously at the Ancient One. She spins about to the rack
behind her and proceeds to scan the shelves, gradually working her way lower.
She bends at the waist to scan the bottom shelves, her skirt hikes up involuntarily
at her chosen posture.
Vlad is reminded of other needs that he has not had met lately.
With her rear in the air and her goods on display, Cosette finally retrieves a
bottle from the shelf of the rack that is at ankle’s height. Keeping her head just as
low, she turns her face to Vlad while maintaining the same pose. She holds the
bottle so the label shows towards him.
His attention is not on the bottle.
“See anything you like?” Cosette asks with a seductive smile as she observes
Vlad’s attention wandering over her assets. She taps the bottle of wine loudly to
redirect his view.
The partially mesmerized look evaporates and Vlad regards the vessel in her
hand.
“Yes, I think that vintage has an exceptional bouquet,” replies Vlad, his mind
still lingering.
Cosette wets her lips and stands up, smoothing her skirt about her thighs. She
hands Vlad the wine and retrieves two glasses from an overhead dispenser.
“This way, my dear Vladamere,” coos Cosette as she leads him down another
corridor. She hazards a glance back at him and notices the conflict struggling
across his face. “I know why you’ve come this evening and the preparations are
being made as we speak. We still have hours to kill before you will be needed in
the crypts……hours.”
It was all the convincing he needed.
CHAPTER 44
With the arrival of the new night, Nakira lifts the trap door and stretches her
arms wide and yawns as she emerges from the cellar.
The rolled rug is right where she had left it, complete with its motionless
captives. She looks about the rest of the living room in disarray and then notices
the stormy night sky through the window. No rain has fallen yet, but occasional
lightning buds flare over the seas.
There will be no Leo Constellation to guide her tonight.
She exits the cottage and follows a worn path around back. A stable is situated
only a short distance behind the home.
As she approaches the crude, wooden structure, she hears whinnies and nays
within. The horses have sensed her presence and are vocalizing their
apprehension.
Nakira walks up to the gate of a fine, black stallion. His eyes go wide at the
sight of her and he jerks about his confined area, screeching with fear.
“Shhhhh,” soothes Nakira as she forces eye contact with the beast.
Transfixed by her powers, the stallion stifles its protests and steadies its feet. Its
eyes, however, still show fear.
“That’s better,” continues Nakira in hypnotic tones. “Such a pretty boy……”
She unlatches the gate and slips next to the magnificent horse.
Still mesmerized by the vampires, but fearful for its life, the black stallion
manages to take a step back.
Without breaking the trance inducing eye contact, Nakira gently smoothes a
gentle hand along the horse’s muzzle.
“Don’t be afraid,” her voice almost sings. “I have a gift for you…..”
Her other hand strokes the mane and Nakira’s face presses against the shiny,
black neck. The horse’s pulse is thundering. She breathes in the animal’s blood
scent.
Nakira continues to speak to the stallion in her hypnotic voice – inching her
protruding fangs closer to the equine flesh. A shudder passes through the beast as
her teeth slowly pierce the tissue.
Within minutes the transformation is well under way.
The creature’s flesh ripples with newfound sinews. Its eyes take on a sharper,
more angular shape. The teeth become jagged shards. A piercing screech escapes
its throat.
The horse in the adjoining stalls are kicking at the walls behind them and
ramming the gates in front. They emit their equine screams as they realize the
monster their neighbor has become.
But they cannot escape.
The vampiric black stallion busts through to the next stall. He pummels the
frightened horse with sharp and powerful hooves. He shred the lesser equine’s
neck with its new vampiric fangs. The dying beast shrivels as its lifeblood is lost.
Beaming at her new creation, Nakira declares, “Yes! I always wanted my very
own pony! I will call you…..Mortimus!”
She applauds gleefully and lightning and thunder announce his arrival, as well –
the two illuminated briefly in the flash.
Nakira mounts Mortimus and as they charge across the boundless landscape, the
skies lament – the clouds releasing their sorrowful deluge.
CHAPTER 45
Raven slips out of bed while Antoine is only starting to stir. She quickly
collects her clothes and dresses with haste.
“Where are you going?” the waking Antoine inquires. He sits up in bed, resting
his back against the headboard and folding his arms across his chest.
Raven freezes like a deer in headlights.
“Had some bad dreams, did you?” Antoine asks with a knowing smile.
Raven nods her head slowly in acknowledgment. She is still only partially
dressed and is holding her silken robes to her chest.
Changing the topic, Antoine says, “Vlad has worked for us in Port of Frios
tonight. Your services are required again.”
Knowing that she has little choice in the matter, Raven can only nod again.
Forgetting her modesty, she continues to dress in front of Antoine, as his eyes are
reacquainted with the flesh he had known the night before.
“My memories,” he says to her.
She looks up from her clothes with an expression of perplexion.
“Your dreams last night after drinking my blood were a window into my past,”
Antoine explains.
Raven recalls vividly the nightmare Antoine speaks of.
She recoils sharply at the idea that those were his doings.
“I am and forever have been a warlord, Raven,” Antoine declares to the petite
woman. “You are not so different from myself. The carnage you summoned upon
dragonkind is unprecedented.”
The Crow Master thinks inwardly of all she has wrought upon others in her own
life. It is true, she struggles to remember a time of innocence when death and
hatred were not her only means of existence. Even her childhood………….
She shivers and shakes off the memory.
Antoine is dressed now as well. He approaches Raven and draws her near.
Though she does not fend off his advances, her mind is clearly still somewhere
else.
“Come, Raven. We have memories to make in the Port of Frios……….”
Antoine says wistfully.
CHAPTER 46
As Vlad and Cosette enter the crypt of the catacombs, many of the Ancient
Ones’ spawn hustle about opened vessels containing the remains of demised
humans of many years past.
The sarcophagi had been sealed so well, that many of the dead were intact –
some even still juicy.
Vampires went about administering a drop of foul looking thick liquid into the
mouth of each corpse. Row upon row of open caskets were tended to by multiple
creatures of the night.
An eyedropper hesitates over the opened mouth of a particularly well preserved
body. One thick, black drop drips down the dead human’s throat.
Finally, after thousands upon thousands of the dead having received the same
treatment, the lead worker reports to Cosette, “It is done.”
“Good,” she says and waves the vampire away. Cosette turns to Vlad and
beams brightly. “Behold, my lord. Your undead army only requires you to
perform the necromancy rites.”
Vlad looks approvingly across the myriad of open coffins. He produces an
ancient looking book – well worn and bound in what appears to be the hid of some
unknown creature.
He raises the Book of the Dead up with both hands and flips the yellowed and
uneven pages to the mark he had left.
With an eerie voice, Vlad begins to read a passage from the manuscript. The
sounds are ancient, spoken in a tongue long forgotten.
With each word, the pages of the book begin to rustle. The strange markings
appear to sparkle as they are pronounced and then fade back to their original state
as the next word shimmers upon Vlad’s command.
A howl emanates from all corridors leading to the crypt. An unnatural wind
comes rushing forth.
Vlad continues the incantation. Dark magic is being summoned from the
powers of the book. Some of the caskets start to rattle and bang against the floor.
Silt drifts down from the ceiling and is carried along by the currents of air.
The ancient vampire raises his voice against the ruckus he is creating. Some
words hiss as if spoken by serpents, others are grunted like the guttural ramblings
of demons, still others are produced as if by frantic whisperings of many voices all
at once.
Finally the rite is complete. Vlad closes the book with a loud CLAP! and all
other sounds and movements are silenced with it.
All is still.
All is quiet.
Though nothing is happening, the room crackles with energy – a calm before
the storm.
Now, Vlad’s army of undead only await his command.
“Corpus Levitosum!” Vlad commands. Thousands of bodies sit upright in their
coffins. Shriveled and taunt skin stretch across faces that look to their summoner
for their next order.
CHAPTER 47
The city of Aldin practically lights up the evening sky with its many gas lamp
lined streets and bridges. The urban landscape itself straddles the Aldin River –
spanning the delta and wetlands with its unique combination of modern and
ancient viaducts.
Where the city meets the bay, an impressive port adorns the coastline. A
myriad of vessels of all shapes and sizes are docking along the many piers.
Formidable looking military ships are stationed at the naval base that guards the
inlet to Aldin Bay.
The burgeoning warehouses of the Port District gradually give way to multistoried buildings. Their windows and towers are well lit from within and add to
the splendor of the skyline.
Carriages and pedestrians traverse boulevards that are laid out in both a grid and
radio-concentric pattern. The largest roads are spokes, converging on the center of
the city. They terminate at a grand circular park. A boardwalk delineates the
circumference of this public feature. Local vendors and artisans display their
wares and crafts in kiosks and carts.
Beyond the boardwalk lies an immense grassy field, meticulously groomed and
green. Parents watch their children play at various activities as higher positioned
lamps provide the lighting for their nocturnal activities.
An ornate wrought iron fence announces the terminus of the inner boundaries of
the field. Beyond its confines is a beautifully designed moat. Fountains spew
forth from just below the surface, creating an aquatic ballet to dazzle spectators
hanging along the fence. Geese, ducks, and swan paddle about seeking crumbs
from the gathered crowds.
The moat is equally as wide as the grassy park preceding it. The inner shore
rises sharply on mossy banks that end abruptly as a brick and mortar wall thrusts
up from depths unknown. The inner wall rises better than thirty feet above the
already elevated embankment. Ramparts placed at regular intervals ascend almost
this distance again. A constant parade of guards patrol the path along the top of the
wall and archers are stationed in each tower.
Within the protected fortress an enormous castle ascends to the top of the city
skyline. Spires and flying buttresses abound this architectural marvel. The edifice
creates a topography at the central axis of the urbane environment – a huge
anthropogenic hill of stone. At the very pinnacle of the highest tower rises a long
mast with the world’s largest flag flying proudly at such great heights. The thick
blue, white and red stripes flap in the night sky, lit from powerful sources angled
from the base of the pole. The colors of the Land of Aldin declare its might and
the realization of the dreams of all its citizens.
“Wow!” exclaims Nick as they approach the sprawling metropolis. “I forgot
how big this place is.”
Drake: I don’t know how well we would be received if we deliver Finnigan to
the castle directly.
“Good point,” replies Nick.
Pop is clicking and buzzing about something while pointing to another feature
outside the city’s central feature.
Nick follows the trajectory of Pop’s finger and sees a well lit cobble stoned
street winding up the contours of a small, rocky outcropping at the top of a hill.
There is no edifice adorning this summit, but Nick catches a glimpse of a dragon
being swallowed by a dark hole in the side of the rock. A large, red banner billows
in the breeze at the side of this entrance. A golden dragon is emblazoned upon the
middle of the scarlet flag.
“The local magistrate,” Nick recognizes.
Though dragonkind claims home to Highland Den, where their queen resides
and Talonclaw in the Dragon Isles is their elite military division, every major city
in the island continents of Finden and Aldin contain a local outpost of a few
dragons and riders since the vampires had so sneakily overthrown Castle
Rayjlandic centuries ago during the Finden – Aldin wars.
The presence of the Dragon Riders within the cities serves several purposes.
First, and most importantly, vampire kind will never be able to underhandedly
acquire control of human cities again. The humans, for their part, have also
learned a valuable lesson concerning their thirst for power and conquest over one
another. Since that fateful event, peace has remained between the former rival
nations.
Also, just the mere presence of the mighty, winged beasts instills a combination
of senses in the public. The creatures are awe inspiring and remind people that
their protectors are to be both feared and respected.
Dragons have never attacked humans, as they are their sworn protectors, but
every once in awhile, a band of vampires surface to wreak havoc and the humans
are witness to the forceful suppression the dragons can inflict. This also helps to
ensure that tribute is always paid on time to Dragonkind.
As the five descend upon the dragon outpost, thin, wispy clouds form from the
north and a hazy halo becomes visible around every light in the moist air, including
the moon that will soon be obscured in the advancing weather.
The pixies blink out upon final approach, apparently not comfortable with the
prospect of being seen by others. Nick and Drake glide carefully into the small
Cliffside hangar with Finnigan in tow.
As the quarters are designed to house only a few dragons, Nick and Drake find
that the hangar ends abruptly at a small dragon keep and corridor sized for the
human riders. Half a dozen curious sets of glowing eyes peer out at the
newcomers.
The dragons telepathically inquire the identity of their unannounced brethren
and his business here tonight.
Drake: I am Drake and this is my rider, Nick. We are delivering our captive,
Finnigan, to your jurisdiction.
With that, Drake places the bound prisoner upon the stone floor.
A large, black dragon emerges from the keep and replies to Drake.
Geldar: I am Geldar. My rider, Sebastian, is the constable of the Dragon
Riders of Aldin. I have alerted him to your presence. He and the other enforcers
will be with you momentarily.
The black dragon’s piercing metallic golden eyes scrutinize Drake’s shading.
Geldar: I have never seen a brother of your coloration before. Where are you
from?
Drake: I was hatched of Boldever Mountain, same as we all were, Geldar. I
was among my mother’s last brood, but it was hatched after her demise. I never
knew her.
Geldar: I remember you! You were but a pup, then. But your color – it has
changed!
Drake: You have a good memory, Geldar. Indeed, much has changed since
those days.
Geldar: I had only just taken this assignment when word of you and your
Rider’s banishment got out. Wherever did you go?
Drake: We have been living deep within this continent where no one ever
ventures. It was not until recent events that we realized that hiding away was not
the answer.
Footsteps sound and six Riders approach from the hallway. They see the jade
dragon, his Rider and their captive and all look perplexed.
At the head of the small group is a tall broad shouldered man with flowing
black hair and green eyes. He is first to speak.
“My name is Sebastian, Constable of the Enforcers of Aldin. Identify
yourselves,” Sebastian says with an air of authority and a keen look in his eyes.
“My name is Nick. This is Drake. We are here to deliver this man, Finnigan, to
you,” replies Nick.
“You are too young to be on official duty from either Talon Claw or Highland
Den. Why is your dragon green?” inquires Sebastian, totally ignoring the skinny
old man at his feet.
Nick starts to look flustered. He does not know what the repercussions would
be if he is discovered to be a vampire. Dragons are more accepting of Drake’s
condition, but people fear and loathe Nick for what he is.
Finally he replies, “Please sir, the prisoner is the danger here. He possesses the
ability to control birds and commands them to kill!”
The other men behind the constable are murmuring. Their voices are too low
for Nick to make out what they are saying. Nick is unaware of the recent crow
attack on the queen.
Sebastian half turns his head towards his men and raises a hand to silence them.
He looks back to Nick with new interest in his eyes. Finally, he regards the old
man at his feet who is scowling at everyone.
“Attacking birds, you say?” asks Sebastian with arms folded across his chest.
“Tell me more.”
Nick is just about to answer when the dragons start bugling an alert. All the
men jump in alarm to the telepathic messages they are receiving.
Outside the opening to the hangar, panicked shouts can be heard as well as
breaking glass and the roar or fire consuming objects unknown.
Everyone rushes to the mouth of the cave and stare down at the City of Aldin in
disbelieve at what can only be described as all hell breaking loose.
CHAPTER 48
Mortimus’s hooves thunder along a muddy road as the relentless rain continues
its downpour. Neither Nakira nor her vampiric steed seem to mind the inclimate
weather.
Another bolt of lightning lights up the stormy night sky. There, at a crossroads,
Nakira can plainly read the sign that is momentarily illuminated in stark relief.
The words are etched crudely into its wooden surface:
CITY
OF
ALDIN
50
MILES
Without the stars to guide her, Nakira had only been guessing at where the
constellation should be. Her gut had also helped to point her in this direction up
until this moment.
But the flash of lightning occurring at exactly the moment she came across the
sign sealed her decision. She would find her son, Nick, in the City of Aldin.
As Nakira and Mortimus pick up speed again, she starts to feel the rhythm of
the horse’s gallup. As the miles wear on, the monotony of the motion starts to lull
Nakira into a dream.
She recalls a time long ago when riding a different animal – the feel of rhythmic
movement and wind in her face. She holds the reins tight in her hands and feels
the powerful muscles of the creature flex and relax repeatedly.
Looking down, Nakira views the sea far below. In this memory, the sun is
setting and the pinks and reds in the clouds are beautiful. She sees the long,
muscular, yet elegant neck she is straddling. The animal’s hide is a pearly white.
Its wings beat in time like a metronome.
The dragon speaks to her in her mind:
Gemini: Look how pretty the sunset is, Nakira!
Nakira’s young face beams in delight. Her response to Gemini is an outpouring
of joyous emotions.
Another dragon sours up to their side. He is a majestic, black beast with golden
eyes. His rider is a ruggedly handsome man with blonde hair and dark, brooding
eyes.
Richard calls to his mate, “By the fires of Pyronius! Would you look at that
sky, Nakira?”
Nakira giggles and all four stare admiringly as some purple starts to show in the
clouds as the sun dips lower.
“Come, m’love. Let us go back and warm up in our bed,” Richard calls above
the wind.
Nakira regards Richard coyly and then replies, “Oh? Think you can get me
hot?”
“Aye, Blossom. The way y’ like it,” Richard grins.
“Ok,” Nakira says with a sly smile. “But first you have to catch us!”
Gemini dives suddenly and Richard’s dragon, Xavier, is hot on their tail.
Nakira is rudely snapped back to the present by another flash of lightning
followed immediately by a huge crash of thunder. The bolt strikes a tree on the
next rise and ignites it in a blaze. Smoke billows off it as the rain attempts to
suppress the work of the lightning.
As they crest the hill, Nakira can see the glow of a large city just beyond the
next row of hills on the horizon.
She is almost at the City of Aldin.
CHAPTER 49
“Raven, start your rituals, or whatever it is you do to summon the birds. You
can stay here in relative safety. Have them nearby for when the dragons arrive,”
Antoine says to Raven at the steps leading out of the sewer.
The other vampires are climbing out the grate and into the alley above.
Antoine looks hard into Raven’s violet eyes as he grips her shoulders and says,
“Highland Den is not that far away. Once we begin transforming the townsfolk,
word will get out. From that point we will only have a short time until the dragons
arrive. That’s when your birds will stroke. Got it?”
Raven looks distressed but she nods in understanding.
Antoine kisses her passionately. At first she tries to pull away, but then she
gives into his powers and goes with it.
He pulls away abruptly and ascends the steps. Now, she is alone in the sewers
with only her red eyed crow for company.
She kneels at the steps and begins the ritual.
*****
The Port of Frios is quiet tonight. The air is cold, but not piercingly so, as a
clear winter night. No, the cold is wrapped in the blanket of thick clouds. The
winds are calm. It is that magical moment as the first snows begin to fall.
Creeping through the alleyways, Antoine and his vampires systematically enter
every building and home they come across.
A window breaks. Somebody inside screams. The creature of the night is upon
it’s target. A bite. Blood is taken. But the victim is not drained.
As the vampire moves on to the next dwelling, the woman is left unconscious
on the floor. The twin holes in her neck mark her.
The transformation has begun.
***
A family is gathered around the fireplace for warmth. The father is tending to
the fire.
A knock at the door startles them. Father grabs the poker and swings the door
wide.
Nobody.
He peers to either side, and then turns to his family and shrugs.
A vampiress in black springs from behind. Her fangs sink wetly into his neck.
The family screams, but more undead have pushed into the home and make
quick work of them.
No one is killed. All are bitten.
This process continues for several streets. Some of the first bitten start to
emerge from their homes. They are overwhelmed by the thirst and are eager to
join the festivities.
Soon, the cobblestoned streets of Port of Frios are thronged with shrieking
vampires. Lights start to go on in houses that have not been visited yet, as people
step out on the doorsteps to see what all the commotion is about.
They are quickly snatched up by the new children of the night. Some are only
partially drained, others are completely spent.
The process is accelerating.
A church bell rings out in the night. Somebody has sounded an alarm. A single
dragon emerges from the local magistrate. Shocked at the sight, it sends a
telepathic message to Highland Den……
CHAPTER 50
Most everyone has cleared from the dining hall as the hour is growing late.
Valkyr and Richard remain at the table sharing stories over mugs of ale.
“Ah, Valkyr, I still miss her so,” Richard confesses in a partially inebriated
haze. His eyes go out of focus for a moment as he fumbles for his drink. Another
swig is taken and he re-focuses on Valkyr, who is still seated next to him. He claps
his nephew on the shoulder clumsily and continues, “My Nakira, she t’was one in a
million, I tell ya’. Gone – killed by the cursed vampires…..and our unborn
baby…..,” Richard starts weeping and then, “I neva’ knew if t’was to be a lad or a
lass.”
Valkyr hates to see his uncle in this state. He remembers a different man. A
man that had a zest for life. A fearless leader that everyone admired.
It was shortly after the loss of Queen Gemini, and Nakira (the queen’s rider and
Richard’s mate), that the man stepped down from running the dragon wings of
Highland Den. He became consumed with hatred toward the vampires and decided
to start an elite battalion of black dragons, the strongest of the strong and most
feared of their kind.
He founded Talon Claw, in the Dragon Isles and brought in all the deadliest
dragons he could recruit. The young riders of fledgling black dragons were eager
to join his ranks as they and their dragons reached maturity.
The queen’s death had changed dragon society. They had come perilously
close to extinction. A single princess remained. Her and her rider were very
young at the time and would not produce a clutch for many years to come.
Skyhalla and Lyra became Dragonkind’s last hope.
Valkyr is consoling his uncle, when both men sit bolt upright at the bugle of the
watch dragon.
The telepathic message was sent from Port of Frios, directly to the
Watchdragon. His bugle down the thermal vent warns all of Highland Den
simultaneously.
The two men scramble from their seats and race out of the dining hall.
CHAPTER 51
Thousands of zombies billow from every underground orifice in the City of
Aldin. Their recently re-animated corpses move stiffly along alleys and
boulevards. Some of the undead have skin, others are little more than bone and dry
sinew. All represent the dead of the plague that had ravaged Aldin many
generations past.
The same disease that nearly wiped out humanity so long ago still lingers in
these walking cadavers. The bodies may be weak and slow, but the germ they
carry is voracious.
Vampires, of course, are impervious to all disease. The plague has no more
affect on them than a grain of sand would have on the ocean.
But as for the people of Aldin………..
**
A keeper of the peace patrols a usually quiet neighborhood. Since there is very
little crime here, the patrolman’s presence is more for peace of mind for Aldin’s
citizens. Armed with only a billy club and a whistle, the officer is more akin to
neighborhood watch.
He feels something spatter on his face and turns to the sky. Dark clouds have
concealed the stars and the moon. A few lightening buds flair in the distance.
“Goin’ be a wet one tonight,” murmurs the patrolman. He is thankful for the
trench coat that is standard issue for the uniform.
As the weather changes, people hustle about him trying to get to their homes
before the sky really opens up.
The peacekeeper notices one individual at the end of the street that appears as if
he might be having a rough go of it. The person’s steps are halting and irregular.
A few times the cop thinks the stumbler might fall.
He goes to investigate.
“Evenin’ there,” the patrolman begins. A light shower has started up and the
fumbling pedestrian has his head lowered.
Instead of responding to the officer, the person takes another clumsy step.
“Easy there, sir,” says the patrolman. He places a steadying hand on the man’s
shoulder.” Had a couple a’ nips too many?”
Finally, the stumbler raises his face to the cop.
The keeper of the peace’s face instantly changes from the smug, selfassuredness that law enforcement are notorious for, to an expression of horror.
The man before him cannot possibly be alive. His eyes are clouded over in the
middles and the whites are beyond the yellow of jaundice. His gaunt face is
covered in paper dry skin that is a greenish – brown. A flap of this tissue has torn
away from the side of his cheek and is hanging below his jaw, exposing rotting
molars. The nose is gone and the facial bone beneath protrudes stubbily.
Before the patrolman can withdraw his hand in disgust, the zombie has already
seized his arm and a foul display of ragged brown teeth shred into the skin of the
officer’s wrist.
The cop howls in pain and thrashes the undead’s face with the billyclub in his
opposite hand.
Startling enough, the entire head of the creature snaps back, splitting the dry
skin of its throat wide open. A sporous dust billows from the torn windpipe and
esophagus and blows right into the patrolman’s face.
Upon inhaling the sandy substance, the peacekeeper instantly is seized by a fit
of coughing and sneezing. Within moments, huge bubbles of mucous start to form
from the cop’s nose and spit and foam are coming from his mouth.
The wound on the officer’s wrist begins to fester and turn green.
The disease is highly contagious.
***
As a light mist descends upon Boulevard D’Triumph in the City of Aldin’s
market district, a coachman watches wearily as the crowds are hurriedly
concluding their shopping and heading home.
A young couple approach the carriage, the gentleman protecting his lady’s fine
hairdressing from the drizzle with a newspaper held over her head. They look at
the coachman expectantly.
He gives his horse an apple, which the animal devours greedily, and tips his hat
to the couple and says, “Sir, Madame – where to?”
“Chateau Ormond,” replies the young man. The coachman opens the carriage
door for the couple and they seek shelter in its dry sanctuary.
As the coachman turns to ascend the step to his seat, he sees what he interprets
to be another fare waiting for a ride.
“I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to find another carriage…..I have passengers,”
explains the coachman.
But the lone pedestrian, damp in the mist, is not interested in a ride. The
creature lurches forward and rips a chunk of flesh from the coachman’s face with
its horrible teeth.
The coachman yells and stumbles backward, falling on his back between the
carriage and the horse.
The door to the coach swings open and the young man sticks his head out into
the rain and inquires, “Is everything alright out there?”
A set of hands seize his face from behind and drag his protesting body from the
carriage.
The lady screams at the sight of her date being violently withdrawn from their
vehicle.
Two thin, almost skeletal forms descend upon the young man. The lady can
hear flesh tearing and a gurgling scream. She pins her back into the opposite
carriage wall in fright.
The glass of the window nearest her head shatters. Arms are reaching in to
seize her and wind and rain are invited as well.
Her panicked shouts bring about another person. She sees the top hat on his
head and believes the coachman is entering the buggy to come to her rescue.
But, it is not the coachman, and this thing is not here to save her at all……….
******
A vendor at the Park Du Central is closing up his kiosk to protect his
merchandise from the weather that has taken a turn for the worse.
Most shoppers have taken the hint or been driven away by the light rain. But, it
appears that one die hard person is willing to weather the storm to buy something.
The vendor halts his lockings and chaining and asks the wet shopper, “Can I
help you?”
The woman continues her slow stroll toward the vendor. Her hair is saturated
and conceals most of her face.
“Madame? Are you okay?” asks the vendor.
She emits a low groaning sound. It is a soulless, despairing noise. It describes
a haunting hunger that can never be satiated.
The vendor looks very puzzled.
She staggers within an arm’s length of him. The gaslamp above shines on what
little features of her skin are visible. The vendor sees her withered hands and
gasps. He looks up at her face concealed in her mop of hair and finally witnesses
her dead eyes.
“Get away from me! He yells.
Just before she can make a grab for him, he wheels around and runs headlong
into one of the portable gaslamps. The contraption yields to his force, toppling
onto the next kiosk and shattering its glass lamp.
The gas driven flame within catches on the canvas of the kiosk, which ignites.
Unfortunately, the next vendor over is a kerosene salesman. All the merchandise is
locked inside this little store.
As the entire stock of kerosene is heated to its flammability threshold, the
metallic canisters cannot contain the pressure any longer.
BOOM!
A huge explosion sends the vendor and the female zombie flying in pieces
about the boardwalk and the tree lined park beyond.
Liquid fire cascades great distances, setting fire to more kiosks and carts. Some
trees and grass burn also, defying the sprinkles that would suppress it.
The explosion also causes other portable gaslamps to topple and bust. One
flaming canister of kerosene arcs all the way to the boulevard and strikes the glass
of one of the permanent gaslamps affixed to the city sidewalks and fed by gas lines
below the street.
A great jet of flame shoots into the sky from the now headless streetlight. The
fire goes subterranean and the next gaslamp down the street pops its top in a
shower of broken glass, twisted metal and golden flames. This process continues
down the street.
At some point, a weak pipe must have succumbed to the intense heat and
internal pressure. A man hole covering is ejected to the night sky by a loud
explosion and column of vertical fire.
Despite the inclimate weather, the continuous flow from the flaming geysers is
starting to catch on various objects hanging over their path. One gaslamp lights a
banner positioned over a storefront. The wood beam supporting the canvas sign
ignites as well. The flames are licking at a third story window. The point of the
structure is blistering in the heat. As this flammable substance kindles, the color of
the fire changes from yellowish orange to a blueish green.
The building is caught up in the conflagration now. Though each store has a
wall between its neighbors, the structure itself spans an entire city block.
On the streets below, undead are limping along, spreading the plague to all who
have not locked themselves in their homes.
As the edifice continues to blaze, many people are forced to flee into the rainy
night and into the arms of the Living Dead.
CHAPTER 52
Nick, Sebastian and the other Riders stare at the city beneath them with mouths
agape. The chaos they are witnessing seems surreal, as if out of a nightmare. A
light drizzle has ensued, but its dampening effects are insufficient to thwart the gas
driven fires sprouting from the street lamps, as the flammable substance explodes
glass bulbs in a consecutive order down the streets.
Some buildings are already ablaze where portions hang over the volatile street
lights. Trees, likewise, are igniting within close proximity to the hazard.
People are spilling from their homes and other buildings and are screaming in
alarm. Some are shrieking in pain. Another group of slow moving individuals are
trailing behind the panicked masses, occasionally descending on those that have
fallen or are unable to keep up.
A fire brigade clangs their bell from its horse drawn contraption. Men jump off
the wheeled apparatus, wearing trench coats and shiny helmets. They shoulder
long and thick hoses and make their way to the worst of the fire. Other men
operate a teeter-totter driven pump, mounted on a huge drum. As they put forth
their exertions, a steady stream of water issues from the end of the hose that the
other firemen are now aiming at the base of the flame.
Another crew arrives with a large wrench. They approach one of the
streetlamps as its geyser of flame blasts away at the sky and trees and buildings
around it. They cautiously crouch as they get within the heat radius of the
technology gone awry.
Opening a small, protective wrought-iron gate around the gaslamp’s perimeter,
the city workers manage to fasten the metal tool to its mate near the base of the fire
fountains. Working as a team, two strong men heave and ho until the wrench starts
to budge. Within moments, the angry plume of fire stymies its exuberance, until
disappearing into the broken, metal tip of the gaslamp.
As the team makes its way toward the next flaming post, a mob of zombies falls
upon them – biting and scratching the subdued workers.
Likewise, the fire brigade is overwhelmed by more undead that not only feast
upon the humans, but are also tearing at the flesh of the horses.
“Great Pyronius,” breathes Sebastian in disbelief. Then, getting his wits about
him, he turns to Geldar and commands, “Send a message to Talonclaw and
Highland Den…..Now!”
The mighty black dragon acknowledges Sebastian with gleaming, golden eyes
and a nod. Geldar looks to the skies in concentration as he engages in long
distance telepathy.
Sebastian reels on his men and yells, “Saddle up, boys! We have work to do!”
The Enforcers of Aldin comply with the constable’s orders. They rush about,
throwing on gear and fastening saddles to their dragons.
Nick is still mesmerized by the scale of the disaster below. As magnificient as
the City of Aldin is, it already appears to be falling into ruins as fire and panic grip
its structures and residents.
He turns to face the scrambling Dragon men, and addresses Sebastian as the
leader pulls the leather straps of the riding gear snugly about Geldar’s thick neck.
“What about him?” Nick asks, motioning to Finnigan as the skinny old man
attempts to slink toward the corner of the hanger.
Sebastian regards the captive with a grunt and a harsh laugh. He snaps his
fingers at his closest rider and says, “Put him in a cell and leave him some bread
and water. And be quick about it, man! We have a city to save.”
As the Enforcer drags the protesting Finnigan down the corridor, Nick asks
Sebastian, “How many are you?”
“We are only six. The black riders from Talon Claw have been sent the
summons for aid. We only need help Aldin’s military until back up arrives,”
replies Sebastian, putting the finishing touches on the harnass holding the saddle
securely to Geldar.” Now, if you please, my man and I have a duty to perform.”
“Drake and I would like to help,” Nick offers.
Sebastian stops his preparation and regards the adolescent with approving eyes.
“That is very generous, young Nick, but I and my men are all Elite Riders,
trained at Talon Claw. No offense, but, while your intentions are noble, your
inexperience would only get in the way. We have no time here to have to save
your skin and that of a not quite full grown dragon.”
Sebastian puts a foot in the stirrup and pulls himself upon Geldar.
But Nick is not finished. He says, “I think you would be surprised at what
Drake and I are capable of.”
Losing patience and knowing time is of the essence, Sebastian irritably replies,
“You are free to do as you wish, just stay out of our way and don’t expect us to
have the time to come to your rescue.” With that, Geldar and the other black
dragons leap from the hangar and soar across the urban scape toward the chaos that
abounds.
The dragon rider that had locked up Finnigan is close on the heels of his
brethren and shrugs his shoulders at Nick as he and his black dragon take off as
well.
Nick and Drake are left at the mouth of the hangar to decide their course of
action. Drake turns his luminous ruby eyes to Nick with an expectant patience.
Looking across the destruction once more, the young vampire takes a deep
breath and fixes his face with a determined expression. He looks back to his
dragon and nods his head once sharply and says, “Right! Well, who wants to live
forever, eh?”
Scrambling to Drake’s neck, Nick pulls hard on the reins. The two fly high
above the small mountainous cave and speed toward the troubled city.
CHAPTER 53
While the heart of the City of Aldin is in pandemonium, Vlad, Cosette and a
band of vampires emerge from the catacombs near the fringe of the metropolis.
They converge on Aldin’s main cemetery, the chosen resting place for the city’s
departed post-plague times. The thought of a recurrence of the disease had become
a distant memory by the time normal burial practices had returned. The catacombs
had served its purpose in the people’s time of need. But those times had been long
forgotten and an entire generation of dead had been put to rest here.
“Exhume all the bodies,” Cosette commands her subordinates.
The vampires scurry about, shredding the earth with long talons and
superhuman strength. Soon, hundreds of coffins are unearthed and hauled to the
surface.
The caskets are opened. Foul drops of black ooze are administered. Vlad
performs the necromancy rites again.
This zombie army does not have the numbers of the first that has already seized
Aldin’s people in a fit of panic and disease. This zombie army is also plague free.
But, these corpses are much fresher and vital. Many show very little signs of
decomposition.
As the undead set out upon the outskirts of the suburbs, they move with greater
strength and swiftness than their ancient and diseased predecessors.
Vlad and Cosette smile approvingly as their creation marches on.
“Now we can go bring forth more children into our fold,” Vlad declares to
Cosette as his eyes play upon the multitude of homes beyond the cemetery.
His wicked laugh starts as a throaty chuckle and builds to a malevolent
crescendo as Cosette gazes upon her ancient creator with reverence and longing.
She chimes in her own evil mirth to Vlad’s resounding cacophony.
CHAPTER 54
The huge hangar of Highland Den is crowded and cramped with dragons and
riders hurrying about, preparing for departure.
Valkyr is prepping Bjorgon while Richard is next to the pair attending to
Xavier, who dwarfs the burgundy dragon.
Richard seems to be invigorated by the call to arms. He shouts to Valkyr above
the hustle and bustle about them, “Seems like old times, eh Valkyr?”
It was nice to see the improved mood of his uncle, though Valkyr was much
more wary of the situation they were about to embark upon. Still, he manages a
weak smile for Richard’s sake and nods in acknowledgement of his elder’s
eagerness and need to be needed.
Just then, another bugle from the watch dragon overpowers the din and buzz of
the assembling dragons and riders.
Richard and Valkyr frown in concentration as they receive a new message from
their dragons.
“My God!” exclaims Valkyr. “The City of Aldin is under attack as well!”
He turns to Richard to meet the Talon Claw leader’s gaze.
“Never ya’ mind that, nephew. I’ll have my riders from the Dragn’ Isles tend t’
that! They’re much closer than us and faster than any dragn’ from Highland to
boot! Me and my wing’ll stay the course with you and yours, Valkyr. If’n when
we finish up in Port a’Frios, and if m’boys from Talon Claw need a helpn’, then
we can travel the Eastern Sea t’Aldin. Mean time, we got our own job t’do!”
“Of course, uncle. That makes sense,” concedes Valkyr.
Two separate attacks on two different human cities, coordinated at virtually the
same time. Valkyr wonders what mischief the vampires are up to. He is
apprehensive, too, of the knowledge that they could be facing another giant flock
of birds.
At least Lyra and Skyhalla will be safe here at Highland Den……….
CHAPTER 55
The Port of Frios has become one giant vampire party. Fanged undead have turned
the last of the town’s citizens into their own kind.
Antoine and his original group of well-trained vampires take a moment to
realize their accomplishment. He marvels at the streams of new blood children
shrieking and hissing in the streets.
Some have already sensed Antoine’s age, power, and authority. They are
starting to calm down and assemble about their creator. Their new powers and
abilities have also come with a rudimentary understanding of the hierarchy of
vampire society.
As Antoine stands in the town square, a multitude of bloodied faces patiently
look upon him, awaiting his command.
The church bell had ceased its clanging, but the single dragon and rider of Port
of Frios are in full battle gear and are perched atop the religious building – staring
down hard at the creatures of the night that far outnumber him.
He knows help is on the way. But, instead of being gripped by fear or content
with waiting for his brethren from Highland Den to arrive, the Dragonrider seeths
with hatred at the sea of alabaster faces smeared with gore.
Antoine smirks at the sight of the rider’s loathing. He lifts a single, accusatory
finger toward the sole dragon and rider.
“Kill him,” he whispers to his many spawn.
The throng of vampires obey their creator. With horrible shrieks, the undead
grow their fangs and talons and surge toward the church to do their master’s
bidding.
The snow is still fluttering peacefully from the sky. Smoke still puffs merrily
from nearly chimneys. Pine trees are transformed by their white blankets. For all
the wrong that has recently transpired, the sleepy little town looks very much like a
winter wonderland.
Despite the tranquil setting, the red dragon perched on the church bugles its
battle cry and it and its rider launch into the winter sky.
The fanged fiends have already reached the chapel and are testing their
newfound abilities by leaping to the roof’s edge and quickly pulling themselves
atop the building. They hiss and taunt the airborne dragon and rider, swiping the
air with their fierce claws.
Others have jumped from the church to other rooftops in pursuit of the soaring
dragon. A small cluster of vampires are scrabbling up the side of the town’s clock
tower – the tallest building in all of Port of Frios.
One of the creatures launches itself at the red dragon as it passes by. The red
anticipates the undead’s attack and snatches the vampire in its powerful jaws. It
fiercely devours the fledgling child of the night, gulping down the morsels of flesh
and then roaring ferociously into the snowing skies.
The other vampires howl maddeningly at the loss of one of their breed.
The flying serpent circles the town and swoops its wings back – accelerating as
it makes its next pass. As the red closes in on the rooftop of the church, multiple
creatures of the night propel themselves at the oncoming beast.
The dragon unhinges its jaw to maximum. A great jet of fire gushes upon the
shrieking undead. The agonizing heat sears their flesh mercilessly. The closest to
the open maw actually explode into blackened chunks of detritus and splatter about
the snow swept landscape with a steaming sizzle.
But, while the red was dispatching those from the church, others had sprang
into the skies at the passing dragon. A few manage to catch a ride by sinking
impossibly long talons into the creature’s legs and tail.
With a roar of pain, the red ascends higher, frantically thrashing its tail and
limbs to shake off its pesky attackers. One vampire is thrown clear of the end of
the dragon’s tail.
She plummets rapidly and busts through the roof of a home upon impact.
Barely a minute later, she emerges shrieking from the front door, resetting her
broken arm and then dusting herself off and running down the street shouting at the
skies.
As the red dragon continues its exertions, the remaining undead affixed to its
legs have caused multiple lacerations to the dragon’s flesh. The red is now
bleeding freely from its limbs and tail.
It decides to take drastic measures before any of the vampires can get high
enough up on its legs to gut it. Flying low over a rocky hill, the red allows its legs
to dangle low over boulders and rocky outcroppings. Its appendages are being
battered by blow after blow. Finally, another creature of the night is dislodged and
smashed upon the rocks.
A single vampire remains clinging to the outside of the red’s hind leg. The
undead is drenched in dragon blood and appears exhilarated as it manages to lap up
a few mouthfuls of the crimson substance.
The fanged fiend climbs hand over hand past the dragon’s mid-thigh, each new
purchase sinking claws deeply into the winged beast’s flesh.
The red emits an agonizing roar as fresh pain is inflicted and more of his
precious blood is lost.
The dragon reaches its long neck as far around as it can, trying to bite at the
source of the pain. Just as it is about to snap at the uninvited hitchhiker, the
vampire’s talons find the red’s major ligaments that attach the big muscles of its
leg to their origins on its body.
With a powerful tug, the creature of the night severes the ligament. The red
dragon’s jade glowing eyes go wide momentarily as it shrieks in pain. But the
excruciation is too overwhelming.
The red’s eyes shut involuntarily as it blacks out and goes into shock. The
useless leg dangles unnaturally lower than the others.
The rider desperately pulls on the reins and reaches out with his mind to awake
his dragon.
The beast’s wings have stopped beating in its induced slumber and the brief
period of gliding abruptly ends as the flight appendages start to retract and fold
over the red’s back.
They plummet instantly, spiraling toward the snow covered town.
“Come On! Wake Up!” The rider shouts with his mind. He grips the reins as
tightly as he can and frantically starts kicking his heels in the stirrups against the
scaly neck.
The group is rapidly approaching.
Realizing its fate if it remains attached to the bloodied dragon leg, the vampire
takes its chances and disengages its claws, free falling away from the doomed pair.
“Open your eyes, damn it!” yells the rider.
Slowly, the lids of the red’s eyes start to flutter. It hears the panicked telepathy
of its rider. But there is a dull throbbing emanating from its back left leg. The
pounding pain churns the dragon’s stomach and it vomits a bolus of mangled
vampire parts.
The sick splashes acridly against the red’s face, stinging it’s eyes. Some of the
puke splatters against the rider, who realizes this is a sign that his dragon is awake.
“Pull Up! Put your wings out!” screams the rider.
Blinking out pieces of bile from its green eyes, the red dragon focuses on the
blurry solid object drawing nearer with each passing moment. Wind is rushing by
at incredible speeds and the sensation of falling starts to override the agony of his
injury.
The red starts to unfurl his wings as distinct features of the advancing town
come into view with ever increasing detail. The appendages protest at the demand
being put upon them.
With all his might, the dragon forces the supporting surfaces to inch outward.
Their rate of descent was such now that the wings could easily be torn right off his
body if he was not careful.
The membranous flesh starts to pull taught as the red’s skin sails billow in the
atmosphere. Their drop starts to slow, but the early is perilously close.
Knowing that he only has moments left, the red dragon forces his wings out to
full extent.
The sudden deceleration inflicts a terrible strain on the flight appendages. The
red shrieks as the muscles and tendons are stretched to the brink.
SNAP!
The dragon roars in agony as the large bone running across the top of his right
wing breaks from the abrupt and powerful strain it had to endure.
The other half of the wing starts to flop uselessly without the support of its
limb, like a flag in the wind.
With the left side disproportionally carrying more of the burden, the dragon’s
body suddenly twists just as the two careen across the rooftops of several buildings
in the Port of Frios.
Some mesmerized vampires are obliterated by the shearing force and pressure
of the crashing dragon. The rest of the red’s right wing is shredded off as his body
tears across the buildings, taking many roofs with him.
As the friction continues to slow the red’s terrible landing, his body takes on
more abrasions and a red, bloody trail is being painted across homes and drips
brightly into the snow.
Finally, they come to rest on the edge of the big roof of the town hall. The red’s
eyes are half closed as it teeters on the brink of the structure.
A crowd of vampires stare up from the town square. Their eyes glint fiercely at
the injured giant.
The rider shakes his head to help regain his wits about him. The crash landing
had jarred him severely, but he sensed that he had faired much better than his poor
red. He reaches out to his life partner with his mind and instantly is overwhelmed
by the creature’s pain.
Releasing the reins, the rider allows himself to thud to the rooftop. His dragon
is breathing irregularly and barely holding on to consciousness. He kneels next to
the red’s side that is lying across the partially caved in roof. He sees lots of blood
and the broken, protruding stub of bone that is all that remains of its right wing.
Suddenly, he is aware of the thousands of glaring eyes upon him. His skin
tingles as his senses heighten at the realization of his situation.
Setting his face in a determined scowl, he slowly reaches over his shoulder and
removes his sword from the scabbard on his back.
“Hang on a little bit longer, my friend,” the rider says to his dragon
encouragingly. He pets the scaly skin with a soothing hand.” One last fight for
old times – what d’ya say?”
The red manages to swing its wedge shaped head toward his rider and regards
him with glowing jade eyes, half-hooded by his reptilian lids.
He knows their fate is sealed. He winks once at his rider and nods his head in
acknowledgment.
Hissing and the scratching of vampires climbing the side of the building can be
heard. The rider smiles weakly at his dragon and then closes his eyes, taking a
deep breath and holding his sword out at the ready.
CHAPTER 56
King Louis IV, ruler of the Land of Aldin, sits upon his majestic throne of
polished walnut wood and silken cushions. His Majesty is unmistakable with
ornate scepter in hand and jeweled crown upon his head.
Queen Eleanor, in her respective throne by Louis’s side, is an image of regality
in her splendid gown. Her tiara of white gold and a unique combination of
diamonds and blue sapphires, sparkle in the lighting of the royal chamber.
Originally from Finden, Queen Eleanor was born princess of Rayjlandic,
daughter to then rulers Elizabeth and Henry the IX. She was betrothed to Louis IV
upon her birth. Their marriage was to be a political tie between the former rival
nations and asperations to the prosperity that could be realized by joining forces
instead of squabling over conquests.
Indeed, in the times of King Louis IV and Queen Eleanor, the Land of Aldin
had prospered. Their benevolent rule over the country had ushered in a new era of
innovation of the sciences, arts, fashion, and international investments that had
improved the quality of life for the people.
Castle Aldin, in the center of the City of Aldin, is a beautiful combination of
architectural marvel bringing the elements of military might and grandeur together
in an elegant and aesthetically pleasing structure that rivals all others in the land.
Its shining beauty is an inspiration to all its citizens – a symbol of the unique pride
and sense of nationalism common to the people of Aldin.
A royal subject approaches the steps preceding the King and Queen. He looks
very worried and nervous and walks quickly to the first step and as is formality,
bows to his rulers out of respect.
“Your majesty, your Highness,” he says, nodding once to the King and then
again to the Queen.
“Ah! Gastón! You look troubled. What is wrong?” King Louis greets his
subject.
“Your Majesty, our city is under attack! There are reports of people biting
and……” Gastón gulps audibly and nervously glances toward the queen, “eating
other people! Our gaslamp system has turned into an inferno that is consuming the
city! Our fire brigades and city workers are falling victim to these attacks before
they can put out the fires and close the gas lines!”
“Good Pyronius of the heavens!” exclaims Queen Eleanor.
The King looks shocked as well, but his voices maintains the calm, levelheadedness required of a sound ruler as he commands. “Send a contingent of
cavalry to suppress the terrorists responsible . Also, I want a derigible with archers
and flintlock snipers to scout ahead of the calvary. Have the Dragon Enforcers
already intervened and sent word to Talon Claw and Highland Den?”
Gastón looks somewhat relieved at the King’s coolness under pressure. “Yes,
your Majesty,” he responds. “Our Dragonriders of Aldin are responding as we
speak. But there is another problem.”
“Out with it, man!” Louis says irritably. He does not appreciate information
being held back.
“Your Majesty, the reports also indicate that those that have survived the
encounters with the attackers are becoming violently ill,” Gastón gulps with
extreme despair.
The King stares right through Gastón upon receiving this last bit of intelligence.
His mind races through the possibilities. All rulers are raised from childhood with
royal tutors to educate them in multiple subjects. The history of their own land is,
of course, of paramount importance. Louis recalls learning of an ailment that had
swept the city in the past. The contagion passed between the inhabitants like
wildfire.
His gaze rises to the chandlier ceiling in thought. Then, the possibility of the
unthinkable dawns on him.
“The Plague…..” he whispers.
CHAPTER 57
Nakira can see smoke billowing from the glowing metropolis ahead of her. Mortimus is still
making great strides toward closing what little gap remains between them and the city.
The road they are traversing is still unpaved and muddy, but the frequency of farmhouses has
increased as they enter the rural outskirts of the city of Aldin.
She can see the great castle of Aldin towering over the urban landscape like a giant mountain
of stone and mortar. It is well-lit and gleams in the night sky.
The rains are not as severe as the weather she and her vampiric stead had passed only hours
before, but lightning flashes still flare behind her, though the thunder is late in catching up. She
is riding on the cusp of the storm front and the wrath of the heavens will soon follow her.
Noticing again the sooty vapors emitting from the grand city, Nakira senses something amiss.
Mortimus shrieks his agreement.
She absently smoothes a hand on the black stallion’s mane, and whispers toward the city,
“My son, whatever are you up to?”
CHAPTER 58
Nick and Drake are circling the major areas of turmoil. Fires are pluming from several dozen
metal posts lining the boulevards of Aldin. Some manholes have erupted in thicker columns of
flame, but the fires have spread to multiple structures near the gaslamps and some of the infernos
have consumed shops and homes entirely.
As if matters were not bad enough, crowds of citizens are running amok, screaming and
crying for help. Many have fallen and are lying motionless on sidewalks, gutters, and even in the
middle of the streets.
The six dragons and riders of Aldin are spread out and appear to be flying attack runs on what
they deem threats around the perimeter of the terror zone. Apparently they are trying to contain
the source and herd them to a central point.
But even as it appears that the Enforcers are getting a handle on the situation, Nick and Drake
witness new panic breaking out in an area well outside the Enforcers circle of containment.
They decide this new problem will be their best bet of helping.
The panicked groups are all streaming frantically away from another slower moving band of
what appears to be humans, though their walking is labored and irregular.
Still, the hazard is real enough. A few of the terrorized citizens have fallen as the panicked
mob trample those in their way. Those who are too injured to get up are soon victim to the
awkward humanoids that wail and groan as they descend upon their immobile prey.
A sickening spurt of blood erupts from one woman with a broken leg as three of the apparent
cannibals feast upon her back and neck. Her lamentation is pitiful, but short lived as her essence
is drained from her body.
Not knowing what is wrong with these people that would cause them to devour their own
kind, Nick and Drake swoop down to the street, landing in between the scared masses fleeing
and the torpid bipeds who seem such an unlikely threat.
Nick scans the scene before him. The street is well lit by flaming gas lamps on either side as
if hell is announcing its arrival with torches fueled by Perdition’s bowels.
The rhythmless amblers continue their snail-paced march, unaware or uncaring of this new
obstacle in their path.
Nick squints to discern the faces of this motley horde, clumsily approaching him and Drake.
Their commonality besides their ill ability to move with any enthusiasm appears to be in their
varying stages of decomposition.
Nick utters a sharp inhalation.
Drake: What the…………?
All of the creatures appear to be human. But for their animation, they look as if they have
been dead for scores of years. Some are little more than skeletons. Others strike Nick as being
like mummified remains.
Getting a hold of himself, Nick manages to push his mind past the impossibility of what he is
witnessing. With a shaky voice he clamors, “Stop!”
The walking dead pay no heed to his command. In fact, they don’t even seem to hear him.
Drake bares his dragon teeth and roars. The mighty sound reverberates off the buildings to
either side, shattering some of the windows.
The zombies continue their gradual perambulate, no more noticing Drake’s command then
Nick’s.
One of the creature’s arms fall out of its tattered sleeve and scatters to the ground, various
bones clicking and clinking across the road. The undead keeps moving as if it never had an arm
there to begin with.
The vapid group are mere feet away from Drake. Suddenly, they seem to sense something.
Those with arms extend them toward the dragon as if they were blind and trying to see with
outstretched fingers. They all start groaning a desolate sound of hunger, not too dissimilar to a
growling stomach.
Before they can make contact with Drake, the dragon coils back his neck like a viper before it
strikes. As his head surges forward, he discharges a jet of searing breath.
The band of undead shatter upon contact with the fire, flying apart and away from the dragon
like a house of cards in the wind.
Both Nick and Drake watch in satisfaction as the threat seems to be easily soluable.
As the scorched bones scatter across the road, a curious, sporous dust whirls through the air.
A light breeze carries the sandy substance directly back into Nick and Drake, who are completely
unaffected by it.
The silt flies on down the street, eventually catching up with the panicked masses, who
unknowingly start to respirate the sinister spore.
CHAPTER 59
Finnigan sits on the cold stone floor with his knees pulled to his chest and his back to the
wall. His forehead rests on his kneecaps and his long, thin arms hug around his upper shins.
The cell has a pile of straw stacked on the opposite side from the old crow master. A small
hole stained around the edges is positioned in the center of his dungeon. Its purpose seems selfevident.
There is one wall that is merely a series of interlaced bars with a hinged door in the center.
The jail door is of course locked, and the keys hang from a desk chair at the end of the short
hallway outside the confined room.
A tray with a moldy loaf of bread and a trough of water sit untouched just within the barred
cell.
Opposite the entrance is the rocky wall of the cave-mountain. A roughly rectangular shaped
window adorns the upper reaches of the cavernous wall situated near the transition point where
the rocky wall curves inward to form the ceiling and, likely, the underside of the top of the stony
hill. The window is also barred in case any prisoner gets the bright idea of scaling the rough wall
to escape.
Outside the window, the evening sky continues to precipitate. Occasionally, lightning flashes
illuminate the dreary room in dramatic contrasts of light and shadow. A seagull cries out as it
and it’s flock glide lazy circles over the coastal metropolis of Aldin.
Finnigan rubs the raw skin around his wrists where the damned kid had tied the ropes. His
bindings were gone now, but glancing around the jail room, the crow master thinks that they
might as well still be on for all his freedom had been taken from him anyways.
He still cannot get over it. For all his fifty some odd years and for all the shit he had been
through in his life – to finally be hauled in by a damn teenager! It was insulting! It was
infuriating!
Of course, the kid did have a big ass dragon. And that mean, ugly, son-of-a-bitch was what
made all the difference.
But did it, really?
As part of the crow master’s inherent magical abilities, while merging the Quipa Cha spirit
with the flock, his mind’s eye became linked to the sight of the creatures under his control.
And what Finnigan had witnessed through those many crow eyes had made him quiver in his
room at the Koalpan lodge. He had never seen anything like it in his whole miserable life – not
even in his slimy dealings with the cursed, manipulative bastard vampires.
His perspective had started off being multi-faceted. Flock mentality is very single-minded
anyways. They all move as one. Looking through their eyes is almost like you are just one,
giant bird with dozens of eyes.
But something was going wrong. He could see some kind of blur. Then, he could feel the
contact being severed with some of the birds. He was seeing through less eyes all the time as the
blur flitted through the air, passing different crows.
At first, Finnigan had thought it was the green dragon. He had been tearing the mother a new
one pretty good. But no, the scaly lizard had been too slow, hadn’t he? Sure, that ugly
overgrown Gila Monster had still been sittin’ there on the ground roarin’ and shootin’ fire at
nothin’ but empty air. Poor, dumb son-of-a-bitch.
Little by little, his crows had been pecking away at the big green: shredding his wings and
ripping off scales.
Something else was killing the birds. It wasn’t the dragon. But that kid – where had he been?
That teenager had said that he had done it. But nothing can move that fast, can it?
If it was the kid, then he must be some new breed of creature – not human.
After all his birds had died, Finnigan had come out of his room when everyone else had. All
those curious people and Koalpans wantin’ to see what all the commotion had been about. That
kid and his dragon had taken off, of course.
Looking around at the aftermath, Finnigan had been shocked to see all the birds – even his
precious Kaw (rest her soul), had all been decapitated or shredded. But, for all the carnage, there
really hadn’t been that much blood.
It was almost as if their bodies had been drained, like they were sucked dry by a
vampire……..
Could that teenager be one of the undead? Come to think of it, it was pretty damn peculiar
that he had waited until after sundown before making the flight from Koalpan Bend to the City
of Aldin.
But not even a vampire can move that fast, can they?
Finnigan recalls his dealings with that weirdo, Vlad, the supposed ancient vampire. That fool
could straight up turn into mist! Damnedest thing he’d ever seen.
Who knows what strange abilities vampires have?
Not that it matters now. The end had come for poor old Finnigan. Sitting here stuck in a jail
cell, trapped like a canary in a cage. Waiting for the Dragonriders to give him his ‘trial’. What a
joke that’ll be!
The old Crow Master knew that he had been just another pawn for the vampires. He knew the
plans they had for others of his kind. There weren’t that many of the pure blood Skiwa left who
had the gift to call truly massive flocks of birds.
Those that could, the vampires were using for the bigger, more important missions. The
ultimate goal of the vampires was to rid the world of all dragons. He knew that they were
planning on attacking and killing the queen with an overwhelming force of birds summoned
from all around the world.
There was only one Skiwa that Finnigan knew of capable of assembling tens of thousands of
birds at once. She was said to be a direct descendant of the Quipa Cha’s first human
embodiment. Her lineage was pure and her powers were unparalleled.
But if the attack on the queen had already happened, (and Finnigan suspected by the reaction
the kid had got from the dragonmen at the mention of his being able to control birds that it
already had), then his goose was surely cooked.
Sure. Wouldn’t be no trial. It would be a damn witch hunt! The dragonriders would be out
for revenge, pure and simple. Finnigan was as good as dead.
Maybe if he had been a pure blood Skiwa, like the fabled Crow Master Raven, then he
could’ve killed the dragon and that blasted vampire kid! But Finnigan was only a half breed.
His mother had been a strong enough conjurer. Finnigan remembers some of the flocks he
had seen her summon when he was a boy growing up in Norsol. She could get things done.
Man, he wished he had her powers!
But his father, that sorry-assed bastard, he had just been a drunk sailor on a voyage from Port
of Dorso. Fresh off the boat after spending months at sea with nothin’ but other horny men,
Finnigan senior had sweet talked his way into his mother’s bed and wham, bam, thank you
maam, he was off on the next ship out.
And nine months later, Finnigan junior was born. A half breed. Couldn’t even be lucky
enough to look like a Skiwa. Nope, came out just as pasty as his old man that he never knew.
Growing up in Skiwa lands and looking white, even if everyone knew you were half native
was no joke. Finnigan learned to fight real quick. He to get in a scrape just about every day.
Still got his ass handed to him more times than not.
But then the day came when Chief Wasachi’s son, Tootenka, messed with Finnigan one time
too many.
It was always something. The color of his skin. The fact that Finnigan had never been able to
call upon more than several dozen birds. Tootenka wouldn’t leave him alone.
Most of the time, the chief’s son beat Finnigan up and that made him happy for awhile. All
the other Skiwa boys would laugh and cheer Tootenka on.
But that day was different. Something snapped inside Finnigan. He unleashed a horrible fury
upon that boy no one would ever forget.
Hadn’t really seemed possible. Finnigan had always been so scrawny and gangly, usually
uncoordinated, except when his ass really depended on it.
But this was different. He was actually winning: dodging the chief’s son’s blows and
hammering back his own. It was like he had become some prize fighter.
It was the anger. A lot of boys would just get that tunnel vision when they went into a rage,
like a bull, only seeing red and nothing else. But not Finnigan. When he got mad – everything
became clear.
He knocked that big Skiwa boy clean out. Actually made his feet leave the ground and sent
him flying back. It could have ended right there and then.
But it hadn’t.
Nope. It was like all those ass whooping and name callins’ he had taken all those years had
just been buildin’ inside him and had changed him. Twisted him somehow. Made him not right
in the head.
Tootenka had been sprawled out on the ground. Out cold. He wasn’t gettin’ back up any
time soon. But Finnigan wasn’t done. The other boys were all standin’ around watchin’ with
their jaws on the ground in disbelief.
Finnigan, breathing hard and eyes bloodshot with rage, came standing right over the
unconscious boy. He was lookin’ down on the chief’s son, still seething with hatred. Then, with
one mighty jump, Finnigan had landed with his full weight, crushing his foot down on
Tootenka’s throat.
There had been an unmistakable CRUNCH! as the boy’s windpipe and undeveloped Adam’s
apple had been crushed. The force was such that the kid’s neck had broken too.
Dead.
No comin’ back.
Finnigan was a murderer.
He had run home to his mother as fast as he could, his whole world whirling about him in a
frenzied state of mind.
He remembered her eyes gettin’ real big as she gasped. She believed him. She could see it
was true. She shoulda’ seen this comin’. He was too different. Her poor little boy.
She knew what she had to do. She had been putting money away for awhile. She grabbed the
old wooden box from the spot in which she kept it hidden.
There wasn’t time to pack their belongings. She took her son and the money and they fled
down the docks of Norsol.
Ever since the white man had shown up years ago, there had been a continual parade of ships
coming back and forth between the two lands.
There was a passenger vessel loading up with mostly white folk, but there were enough of the
Skiwa (mostly young brides that sailors were taking back home) aboard that she didn’t stand out
too much.
She bought the tickets from the dock clerk and presented them to the boarding usher.
The ship left with her and Finnigan Jr. aboard and they sailed to the Land of Aldin.
Things weren’t easy there, either. But they got by. They lived like gypsies, joining a circus
where his mom used her unique talent to dazzle the crowds of white people under the big top.
Finnigan learned to hone his own talent, appearing in the shows beside his mom, making the
mindless avian do tricks like flying through a ring of fire. Their act was named “The Crow
Masters’, since the common black bird was the preferred breed due to its prevalence in Aldin and
the fear and myth associated with it.
Hence the name stuck. More people knew them by Crow Masters than Skiwa. They were
still considered freaks, or illusionists, as many didn’t really believe in their powers, preferring to
believe it was all just an act of skill in training like the lion tamer or the tricycle-riding bears.
Nobody knew it was magic. Or, many of these people were used to the kind of magic that
was just slight of hand or smoke and mirrors.
But for Finnigan and his mom, it was a living. It was more than that, though. It was a new
start and a chance at a life that he would never have had it not been for the swift reaction of his
mother.
When they left Norsol, they never looked back. It was just him and her for many years.
She was still an attractive woman, and she had had many a white man try to ply her with
alcohol in order to woo her into their beds. But, once bitten, twice shy – as the saying goes. She
didn’t need a man. Her and her boy were doin’ just fine, thank you very much.
But some men couldn’t take the hint. Some men didn’t take kindly to rejection.
One night, after Finnigan had already been fast asleep, his mom had been drinking with some
of the other circus folk.
They had recently picked up a new act: An expert marksman with throwing knives. He was
said to be one of the best in all the Land of Aldin. His name was Dalton and he was always
flirting with Finnigan’s mom.
Dalton didn’t handle his liquor very well, though. That night he tried to more than just flirt
with her. She wasn’t having it and Dalton got mean. He knocked her around a couple of times
and that was a mistake.
She could summon a flock faster than just about any other Skiwa and could do it all in her
mind, too.
The birds were upon Dalton like flies on shit. They tore him into so many pieces that no one
could even identify the remains, except that there were so many witnesses there that knew that it
was her talent and saw the whole thing happen.
They were scared.
They were all scared of her.
Once her spell was over and the crows flew away, she was drained. She couldn’t re-conjure
the flock to save her life.
The ruckus had woke Finnigan up. As he wandered out of his tent, still rubbing the sleep
from his eyes, he witnessed the angry mob dragging his screaming mother toward the nearest
tree. They had thrown a rope over the big branch and tied a noose around her neck.
“Evil dark skinned bitch!” they had snarled. They yanked hard on the rope and raised her off
her feet that were kicking futilely as her slender arms pulled at the rope over her head.
“NO”, yelled the boy Finnigan. He started his own conjuration, speaking the ancient words
of the Skiwa. But his abilities were not as strong as his mother’s.
The birds arrived. More birds than he had ever summoned. They tore at the crowd, pecking
out their eyes and tearing at the major arteries that would cause the murderers to bleed out and
die. They all died. Every last one.
But, even as Finnigan ran to his dangling mother, trying desperately to life her up so she
could breathe, the life had already been suffocated from her.
He was too late.
He cried for a long time. All through the night and into the dawn. Finally, he shimmied the
tree trunk and edged out on the big limp. He removed a small pocket knife and, while still
sobbing, cut through the rope and released his dead mother.
He found a shovel on one of the circus wagons and buried her right under the branch.
From that moment on, Finnigan had been on his own. He kept working on his abilities. He
needed it. It became his living. He could create a distraction with the birds and steal some food
or money when no one was looking.
This became his life.
Sometimes he would get work when somebody needed someone else ‘taken care of’. They
didn’t want to know how he did it. Just that it got done.
And so the years wore on. Sometimes he would travel for work in Finden. Mostly he just
wandered around the Land of Aldin, just working when funds got low.
Somehow the vampires founds out about him. They had already been striking deals with
Skiwa down in Norsol and other places in the Rift Continent.
But the undead had eyes everywhere. They found him and made him an offer he couldn’t
refuse.
Well, he’d tried to refuse. He’d told those bloodsuckers to go fuck themselves. Finnigan was
his own man. He didn’t want no part in their war with the dragons. Not that he gave a rat’s ass
about those snakes with wings.
But, the pale fanged ones had a way of getting you to do what they wanted. They made it real
simple, either he used his crow mastering to help them, or Finnigan could be their next tall, tasty
beverage. Not much of a choice there.
So lawdy – law, one thing lead to another and now here he sits. Stuck in the Enforcer’s of
Aldin’s brig, waiting to die. Unless…………
Finnigan peers up at the barred window above him. It’s still raining. Lightning still flashes,
and the seagulls are still circling over head. He hears the dintinct squawk as one of the gulls
passes within earshot.
He is on his feet. He grabs the loaf of bread from the tray and shoves it in his shirt.
Scrabbling up the rough, rocky wall, Finnigan reaches the stone windowsill and calls out to the
bird in an uncanny mimicry of the gull.
The bird turns it head in his direction.
He calls again.
This time the seagull flutters towards him, wings gliding effortlessly on currents of air.
For a third time, Finnigan does his dead on impression of the scavenger avian. He pulls the
bread out and breaks off a crust and holds it out between the bars.
The gull dives down and snatches the breadcrust from Finnigan’s fingers. It flaps it’s wings
to maintain a stationary position while gulping down its food. It circles once more and sees the
old man has more.
This time it lands on the wide outer ledge of the windowsill. It eats more of the bread.
Finnigan smiles. He ain’t dead yet……
CHAPTER 60
The Dragon Isles are a chain of dormant volcanoes thrust up at the delineation point of the
Northern Sea and the Eastern sea. To the Southwest is the land of Aldin and to the Northeast is
the Northern Reaches, the polar continent that contains Port of Frios and Highland Den at
Boldever Mountain.
Talon Claw, the military outpost for Richard’s elite battalion of Black dragons, is positioned
in the largest mountain of the chain on the middle island of the Dragon Isles.
Historically, Talon Claw had served as a former dragon colony during the early years of the
Vampire – Dragon Wars. Long ago, every continent, or large island chain had a home for
dragon kind. Though their species had originated from the molten depths of Boldever Mountain,
they had proliferated and expanded their numbers, ruling all of Draconos eons before humans
and vampires existed.
But, as vampires came about and established dominion over their human cattle, Great
Pyronius himself had at last intervened. He commanded the mighty dragons to protect his
newest and favorite creation – humans.
The dragons obeyed their creator as was their noble character and devotion to their deity. A
magical bond between human and dragon was bestowed as a gift from heaven.
People had a fighting chance against their evil enslavers.
As the war waged on for millennia, the most ancient of the vampires grew in powers and
abilities. Their rudimentary endowments over their former feeble human weakness were
superpowers over humans, no doubt. But against dragons, they required more.
The oldest vampire acquired skills and magical abilities that would rival a single dragon, in
some cases even surpassing them.
In addition, the undead had numbers on their side. Each human represented a potential new
Blood Child, when the need arose. Dragons were limited by their number of Queens and the
frequency and size of their clutches. Furthermore, since the bond between dragon and rider was
instituted, the winged reptiles matured at the same rate as their human counterparts. That meant
seventeen years from hatchling until adulthood.
As the tide of the war shifted, dragon colonies were lost. The vampires had become more
intelligent and strategic in their battle plans and were attacking Dragonkind at their own homes.
The first colony to fall was in the Rift Continent, where the origins of evil had their roots. From
there, the vampires killed the Queen of the Sister Continent of the South. Then, the Misty
Islands fell.
The battle of the Half Way Point was fought in Finden. It was by far the bloodiest to date and
it took nearly all the vampires’ forces in a concentrated effort to topple the dragon stronghold on
the western, mountainous Finden Island.
But the momentum gained in the vampire morale was enormous. With this victory, they
knew they were going to win the war.
And likewise, it had proven to be a fatal blow to the spirit of the remaining dragons. The
Land of Aldin fell to the blood suckers in less than a month.
Things were looking grim.
By the time the vampire army reached Talon Claw at the Dragon Isles, Dragonkind was in
desperate need of a victory. Forces from Highland Den were sent to aid their brothers in the
south, knowing that Talon Claw was their second to last vestige.
Wave after wave of undead were repelled and burned to oblivion. The dragons fought more
fiercely than ever. At one point the attacks stopped. Dragonkind rejoiced. They thought they
had finally won.
But the vampires were merely regrouping. The ancient ones were still acquiring new
abilities. Some of the elder undead could now spread their affliction to species other than
human.
With a new skill and tactic in mind, the Blood Warriors returned to the Dragon Isles once
again. Instead of outright killing the dragons in open battle, the new strategy was to lure some of
the fighting wings away from the rest. Many vampires died, but a few with the new gift were
able to bite some of the dragons.
Dozens of the winged beasts were transformed into vampiric dragons, but the affect this had
was not what the vampires had expected.
When the bond between human and dragon was first bestowed by Pyronius, the eldest of the
dragons and ruler of all his kind, Zar Dracos, pledged his devotion to Great Pyronius of the
heavens. His word bound his entire kind to protect people from the vampires at all costs.
This pledge was eternal.
Though the thirst for blood grew in these newly transformed vampiric dragons, their sworn
protection of people would not permit them to partake of human blood.
But, they still needed to feed.
The new strategy employed by the vampires backfired on them. They had created a few
Super Dragons who were still vowed to protect humans. The vampiric dragons turned their thirst
on their new creators and killed many a vampire before finally being destroyed.
The undead never made the mistake of turning another dragon into one of their kind ever
again.
But, the war was far from over. If nothing else, vampires are very persistent. And if one
thing does not work, they adapt and try another.
Using this new inter-species transformation ability, the undead started turning every other
animal and creature they could get their hands on: horses, lions, bears, bats, snakes, wolves,
crocodiles – the list went on.
They discovered that some creatures were unaffected by their bite. For some reason no
creature of the sea would turn. Likewise, insects and birds were immune to the blood
transfusion. It seemed that those kinds were promised to the dominion of others…….
The vampires used their considerable numbers of human slaves to build them massive arks of
wood and metal. Since most of their new vampiric animals were of the land variety, they needed
means of bringing them back to the Dragon Isles from the Land of Aldin.
They did not invade at Talon Claw Bay directly, for the vampires realized that such a frontal
assault would be detected by dragon scouts and their giant arks would be burned in the sea
before the new weapons could ever have a fighting chance.
Instead, the massive vessels launched from the Northeastern peninsula in the Land of Aldin,
circumnavigating the Dragon Straights (the passage between Aldin and the Dragon Isles). They
headed northwestward at first. Then, curved back to the Northeast once the westward flank of
the islands was cleared.
Landing on the shores of the Northwest reaches of Spyros (the middle island of the Dragon
Isles), the horde of vampiric creatures embarked upon the land undetected with a single thought
in mind – kill all dragons.
By the time the dragon scouts finally witnessed the massive animal army emerging from the
jungles around Talon Claw, it was too late.
The undead creatures fought with an intensity and power ten times as great as their former,
natural selves. Hundreds died as they stormed Talonclaw Mountain, but many cracks and cave
mouths abounded the giant hill of stone, and the beasts infiltrated the structure.
Once inside, they destroyed the Queen’s recent clutch of unhatched eggs, consuming the
blood of the reptilian embryos.
From there, the Queen herself was next. Fighting in such close quarters as the confines of
their own cavernous abode rendered the mighty dragons without one of their primary abilities –
flight. Having to thwart their enemy on the ground as new vampiric creatures billowed in
through previously unrealized openings in the mountain proved an act in futility.
The dragons and their human riders at Talon Claw soon succumbed to the constant barrage of
one vicious creature after another: each species having their own special abilities and unique
fighting style.
Talon Claw fell.
The various calls of the multitude of varieties of vampiric beasts filled the halls of the
doomed dragon home with a wild din as if Talon Claw had suddenly been transformed into
Satan’s zoo.
But, the rest is history, as they say. Highland Den has survived to this day thanks to
Pyronius’ last intervention. Vampires, who had thrived whether day or night, were suddenly
weakened by the presence of Pyronius’ shining glory. Eventually, they couldn’t even stand the
sight of daylight, burning to a fiery crisp if they were touched by the light of Pyronius.
Now the rest was up to everyone else. The creator had done all he could. His favorite
children – humans - would have to make the final stand on their own. They had all they needed,
a marriage with dragonkind and supreme rule during the daylight hours. They only need keep up
their will to persevere and the cunning to subdue their wily and devious adversary.
So, when Richard established Talon Claw after losing the former queen Gemini, Nakira and
his unborn child, he really was just re-establishing a former ancient dragon colony and using it
for only part of its intended purpose.
Maybe, if Skyhalla’s clutch produces a new queen, then Talon Claw can become more than
just a military outpost. Maybe it can truly become Dragonkind’s second vestige again. And
hopefully, if this newest vampire threat can be put down, then all the former colonies can be
reestablished and dragonkind can once again rule the world.
But until that time is realized, the war will go on.
Dontessa, Richard’s second in command, is harnessing the leather riding saddle to her large,
black dragon, Neoferno. The winged creature is as large as Xavier, and its metallic-gold eyes
stare at its rider piercingly.
Neoferno: Dontessa, Xavier has just contacted me. Geldar has sent word to him and me
regarding the attacks on the City of Aldin. Richard and Xavier, as well as their command wing,
have another situation in Port of Frios that they are staying to help Highland with. We are in
charge of everyone else here at Talon Claw in their absence. He wants us to lead the rescue of
Aldin.
Dontessa regards her dragon with her deep blue eyes. She fastens golden-blonde hair into a
ponytail to keep it out of her face and then dons her riding jacket.
“Very well,” she replies coolly. “It’s about time Richard let me have a crack at leading our
forces into battle.”
She whistles loudly with her thumb and her index finger in her mouth.
All the other black dragons and riders prepping themselves for flight in the Talon Claw
hangar stop what they are doing to listen to the second in command.
Dontessa clears her throat loudly and calls out, “Listen up everybody! Neoferno has just
received word from Xavier that Richard and him are helping Highland Den with a situation at
Port of Frios. We are to proceed on to the City of Aldin without them or their command wing.
Me, Neoferno, and my wing will lead. Now hurry up! We needed to be there already!”
With that, the dragonriders of Talon Claw finish their preparations and mount up.
Dontessa is in the saddle atop Neoferno and is at the head of her wing formation. She thrusts
her right arm forward in the air with index finger pointing to the skies.
“To Aldin!” she orders. Her eyes sparkle and her face glows with enthusiasm as Neoferno
takes flight over the lush landscape of Spyros Island.
Her command wing flanks Neoferno and her on either side in V formation. The other wings
all fly behind in their own similar formations, flanking her command wing on either side and
creating a giant spearhead of flying dragons. They do not have as many in their battalion of
black dragons as the army from Highland Den, but what they lack in ranks is made up for in
shear mass. The Blacks are by far the largest, strongest and fiercest of all Dragonkind.
As they sail through the skies over the Eastern Sea, their vigor and vitality emanates from
them like heat from a furnace.
CHAPTER 61
The queen dragon looks on uneasily with her luminescent, indigo eyes as the last of Highland
Den’s winged warriors take to the skies. Her and Lyra had already wished Valkyr and Bjorgon a
safe return minutes before and could barely make out the lead dragon of the command wing in
the fluttering snows of the evening as they fly south to Port of Frios.
Skyhalla turns her intent gaze upon Lyra, whom is still watching the departing dragons with
her own forlorn longing.
Skyhalla: They will return to us, Lyra. Bjorgon is the strongest and sharpest of Highland.
Besides, he will want to see how many eggs I lay to boast of his fertility.
With a tear in her eye, Lyra turns to Skyhalla and forces a smile at her life partner’s infallible
reasoning.
“You always did have a way with words,” Lyra replies with a hint of a laugh and gently
touches Skyhalla’s lowered face.
Malthor is there, too. Dragonless, but still one of the most important figures of Highland
Den, the distinguished man places a reassuring hand upon Lyra’s shoulder while still staring into
the night, as the last of the squadrons fade into blackness.
“Come, Lyra. I’ll make you a nice hot cup of tea,” Malthor invites, averting his attention
from the now empty skies to the troubled, young redhead before him.
Lyra hazards one last glimpse of the winter night, downcasts her eyes, and allows the senior
councilman to steer her away from the cold of the hangar’s cavernous mouth, toward the warmer
section of the keep.
Skyhalla sidles alongside the slow moving humans, keeping her creamy, white head hung at
their level. The trio saunter through the archway of the corridor leading to the dragon keep
where a fork appears: the left passage large enough for the Queen to traverse, the right being the
people-sized stone steps leading to the Great Hall and the rest of Highland Den.
Lyra regards Malthor and says, “I’ll be right up. I just want to see Skyhalla to her lair. Give
me a few minutes?”
Malthor smiles, nods, and releases his hand from Lyra’s shoulder. Then, turning his attention
to the Queen, he says, “Hang in there, your majesty. Valkyr and Bjorgon can handle anything
the vampires throw at them.”
He then turns abruptly and ascends the steps, leaving Skyhalla and Lyra to themselves.
As the echoes of Malthor’s steps become more distant, the queen and her rider continue down
the large corridor to Skyhalla’s chamber.
The two move in silence. Their thoughts are shared, but preoccupied with the same
worrisome ideas. Finally, as they reach the very last room at the end of the keep, Skyhalla ducks
her head slightly and she passes into her room.
The lair is dark and cool. Lyra hugs herself and her body trembles slightly in the chill air.
Sensing her rider’s physical discomfort, Skyhalla extends her elegant neck toward the large
hearth in the recess of the far wall. A yellowish-orange jet of fire escapes the Queen’s
mandibles, covering the logs and kindling within the fireplace. Soon, the fuel combusts and the
conflagration no longer require the dragon’s breathe to sustain it.
“Thank you,” Lyra says, now extending her palms toward the warmth.
Skyhalla: Nothing like a warm fire on a snowy night. Now, if only I had Bjorgon here to
share it with……..
“Please, Skyhalla, could we talk about something else? I’m a nervous wreck as it is. I don’t
want to think about…..well, you know,” Lyra scolds.
Skyhalla: Sorry, Lyra. I know I would rather be put there fighting alongside them than stuck
in here fretting over what might happen…….
“You’re the last and only Queen dragon of all of Draconos, Skyhalla. You remember the
other day? Somebody here is a spy for the vampires and as much as that sickens me, it would be
foolhardy of us to venture outside,” Lyra says, sounding much like she is only reciting everyone
else’s words.
Skyhalla: Who do you think it is, Lyra? Who could do such a thing?
Lyra takes a step closer to the fire, gazing intently into the mesmerizing undulation of the
flames. As the burning vapor licks and sways, its reflection is caught in the dragon woman’s
eyes, adding to her look of fierce resolve.
“I don’t know, but if I were to get my hands on them…..Pyronius help me……,” Lyra
seethes, standing taught with clenched fists.
CHAPTER 62
Cosette stands in the center of the cobble-stoned street. Brownstone residences sprout up
smartly just beyond the sidewalks on either side. A light mist is pervading the evening air and
droplets of rain bead upon her pouty face.
She looks on as her vampire minions infest the previously calm suburban neighborhood. The
shrill screams of frightened women ring out in the night. The newly bitten flail about or fall to
the ground, their human forms dying during the transformation. Within this fringe of Aldin’s
metropolitan area – deep in the heart of the urban wonder, pillars of smoke rise to the saddened
heavens, lit by the source of their production.
Vlad had departed from Cosette only moments before to see how the destruction and chaos of
the City of Aldin was progressing. He left her to oversee the creation of new Bloodchildren
around the outer perimeter of the metropolis. Cosette knew the initial stages of her work would
be slow going, but once her vampires had sunk their teeth into the residents of the first few
streets, the process would snowball – increasing exponentially.
Within an hour the circle would be complete and her new army of undead would advance
upon the epicenter until every man, woman, and child was either dead, undead, or for those poor
souls who had caught the plague from the zombies prior to transformation – somewhere in
between.
Cosette recalls her own turning from human to vampire as she watches a young woman with
auburn hair and doe-like brown eyes fall victim to one of her fanged underlings. The creature of
the night had seduced the damsel with his hypnotizing eyes, much as Vlad had done to Cosette
over two hundred years ago.
It was a different time in the city of Aldin. The former animosity between Cosette’s native
homeland and their old enemy, Finden, still lingered. The real threat of vampires had caused a
begrudging relent in the hostilities of the rival nations, but there still was no real love toward
their northern neighbor.
Much of the city of Aldin had been under siege during the height of the Finden/Aldin war.
Reconstruction had been a slow, burdensome ordeal and Cosette’s father, Raul, was one of the
construction workers in charge of overseeing the renewal of their own neighborhood.
Raul was a large, jovial man with a bushy mustache and an ample waistline. The long hours
of work never put a damper on his cheerfulness and his crew’s production reflected their high
regard for him.
He often would bring his men to the temporary encampment situated in the field adjacent to
the neighborhood. Cosette, her mother Sarah, and the other wives and daughters would bustle
about feeding the workers and enjoying Raul’s anecdotes. Though the hovels of the camp were
dreary and everyone was eager to return to their former residences, the aftermath of the atrocity
had brought their community together stronger than before.
Cosette would sit and listen to her father. She would laugh and cry as he would spin his yarns
to everyone’s delight. A tinge of jealousy would creep inside her occasionally as she would note
the many eager faces about. She was a young woman but Raul had always been the one to tell
her stories at bedtime when she was a little girl. Now, she had to share in the delight of her
father’s tales.
As Cosette was of age, there had been many suitors calling to date her. As was her father’s
nature, he welcomed them all. But Cosette found them dull – even the handsome ones. She
needed someone that could captivate her attention – a man with experiences to share that she
might delight in his stories.
After some time, she had rejected every young man from not only her own neighborhood, but
the others nearby as well. Despite Raul’s encouragement to find a suitor, Cosette could not bring
herself to settle for less than what her heart desired.
Time went on, and her father’s crew completed the reconstruction of the neighborhood.
Everyone moved back in and marveled at the new innovation of indoor plumbing, which Raul
had a captivating story for also.
Raul had designed a new, terraced rooftop for their own home and Cosette began to spend the
warm, summer evenings lying upon the patio chaiz-lounge and peering up at Dracono’s eerie
moon. She often dreamed of the strange lunar surface. Once again, this had been another
subject of a story her father had told her as a child.
“Papa, why does the moon have that weird green glow?” the little girl Cosette had inquired of
the then younger Raul, who’s mustache and paunch had not yet realized the fullness of what they
would become.
“Cosette, you have picked upon a very interesting topic,” Raul had replied, ruffling his
daughter’s hair as she beamed up at her father from her pillow. It started long ago, you see,
when Draconos was a baby fresh from the creation of Great Pyronius himself.”
“This was way before people, vampires, or even dragons,” Raul continued.
Cosette’s eyes had lit up at the possibility of such a span of time. Dragons had been around
forever. She held her hands together in anticipation of the story to come.
“The fledgling Draconos and the brilliant Pyronius had each other in a loving embrace.
Everything was perfect here – a paradise. Then a terrible thing happened,” Raul said with
dramatic effect.
“What was it, Papa?” Cosette asked on an indrawn breath.
Raul paused to look out the window, up at the faintly green, iridescent moon, then continued.
“Well, you see Cosette, Pyronius had only created Draconos, not the moon.” He returned his
attention to his daughter with a grave look.
“From beyond our heavens came a wanderer. It was a stranger beyond Pyronius’s creation
and realm. It did not share in the goodness of our own god and when it saw beautiful Draconos,
it wanted to touch it, to taste of its perfection.
“Drawn as it was to Pyronius’s new child, the outsider flew at Draconos, trying to imbed
itself in the infant’s perfection. Unaccustomed to invaders in his kingdom, Pyronius was slow to
realize the evil intentions of the unwelcome guest.
“At the last moment, Pyronius tried to shield his offspring from the harm of the intruder. His
brilliance shined upon the bad seed, hurting it greatly. But the wanderer’s course had been true
and it struck Draconos with a devastating blow, tearing a piece of the newly formed youngling
away from its body.
“No!” cried Cosette with tears in her eyes. She was holding her blanket close to herself.
“Shhhhh, it’s alright,” Raul said, smoothing the child’s head with a reassuring hand. “Baby
Draconos didn’t die. The bad seed flew away from Pyronius’s mighty golden rays and never
came back.
“The only thing was, though…..Pyronius couldn’t put the torn piece back into Draconos. It
had been tainted with the wanderer’s evil and would forever circle above Draconos as a reminder
of the danger’s that lurk beyond the darkness……”
“And that’s where the moon comes from?” came Cosette’s question conclusion.
“Yes,” Raul replied. “The moon was a piece of Draconos. It got it’s green hue from the evil
seed.”
“But Papa,” Cosette began. “If the bad seed left its mark on the moon, then what if part of it
touched the rest of Draconos?”
As the young woman Cosette remembered the story of the moon from her childhood, she is
suddenly brought back to her viewing of the glowing lunar surface from the rooftop by the
appearance of a luminous mist sailing across the green canvas in the night’s sky.
Its course unexpectantly altered when she laid eyes upon it. Its new bearing appeared to be
advancing upon her position. She was captivated by the odd phenomena and found that she
could not look away.
As the phantom fog grew in size with proximity, Cosette felt an odd prickling at the base of
her skull. She knew it was connected to the cloud-like apparition approaching her and a terrible
fear gripped her every fiber of being. Still, she could not react.
Something was touching her mind. She could feel it probing her thoughts. She was still
frightened, oh yes, but there was a reassurance being planted in her brain that kept her still.
Finally, it spoke to her through her thoughts.
Cosssssssssssettte, it cooed.
She found herself smiling and shaking all at once as the formless veil descended upon the
very roof she occupied.
You want to see me, yes?- the mild voice lilted.
Cosette found herself nodding mindlessly. The vapor slowly coalesced, harnessing the
luminescence to give itself form and function. The man standing before Cosette was strikingly
handsome, but that wasn’t what really drew her to him.
It was his eyes.
Those windows into his being seemed to know no bounds or depths. He had experiences and
stories to share with her to last her a lifetime, and little did she know at that moment, but there
would be many more stories made from that point on, enough to fill many lifetimes to come.
This is the one for whom she had been waiting……
The woman with auburn hair and big, brown eyes awakes from the transformation induced
slumber to look upon Cosette with her new vampire eyes. She stands abruptly, recognizing the
authority Cosette holds over her.
“There, my child,” Cosette comforts. “Isn’t that better now?”
The newly made vampires hisses her agreement.
“Go, my sweet. There is a whole city awaiting you,” Cosette commands, motioning to the
other homes and streets.
The former woman possessing the reddish-brown hair and deer-like eyes peers around at her
surroundings. Others were emerging from their stupor, all with the thirst burning inside. She
grows her fangs and talons, shrieking at the faintly green glow of the moon, and darts across the
road, caught up on the mass of undead as they stream out toward the next neighborhood.
CHAPTER 63
As the dragon formations approach the coastline of Port of Frios, they are divided into two
battle groups: Valkyr and Bjorgon’s command wing lead half of Highland’s winged warriors
advancing upon the Northwest portion of the town, while Richard and Xavier’s command wing
of seven elite, black dragons head up the battle group flying in from the southwest.
Bjorgon: Xavier, we have visual confirmation of Port of Frios. Do you acknowledge?
Xavier: This is Xavier, Bjorgon. My eyes are seeing the same. Do you notice anything
peculiar?
Bjorgon: Affirmative, Xavier. It looks like a ghost town. Keep an eye to the sky for birds.
Xavier: Copy that, Bjorgon. Eye on the sky.
The moon’s green tinge permeates the winter clouds as light snowfall continues to drift upon
the dark town. The streets are empty and not a single light shines from the haunted looking
structures. The winds are calm and the silence of Port of Frios is foreboding.
Valkyr steers Bjorgon on a circular path above the desolate sight. His command wing follows
suit. The battle formation takes the cue as well, forming an immense spear-head sweeping the
airs above Port of Frios.
“There!” Valkyr declares, pointing a gloved finger at some rooftops below.
Bjorgon sees it too. Several of the roofs are damaged and partially collapsed. It appears that
the path of destruction is linear, terminating at the large building of the town hall. A large drift
of snow has accumulated at the edge of the building from the eaves of the roofline down to the
town square before it.
Bjorgon: Xavier, this is Bjorgon. Valkyr and I might have found something. We are going in
to take a look….over.
Xavier: Copy that Bjorgon. We will continue to keep an eye on the sky. Be careful down
there…..over.
As Valkyr, Bjorgon, and the twelve other dragons and riders of the command wing descend,
they retrace the line of damaged buildings. Snow covers everything, but every now and again
dark patches of stained snow show through where more recent accumulation has not yet
completely concealed it.
“Did you see that, Bjorgon?” asks Valkyr as they pass over another dark patch.
Bjorgon: It looks like…….blood.
As they set down in the town square next to the clock tower, the rest of the command wing
lands nearby – either in opposite spots of the square, in adjoining streets, or perched on roofs.
The dragons sniff about the surroundings while their riders peer uneasily into the dark windows
of the abandoned looking buildings.
Valkyr hops down from Bjorgon’s back and trudges through the deep snow with his dragon
by his side. The burly man retrieves his heavy crossbow from the saddle and loads a bolt from
the quiver on his back. The two approach the large snowdrift in front of the damaged town hall
warily.
Some of the thinner areas of snow around the periphery of the drift contain the same dark
stains. Valkyr and Bjorgon had noticed on some of the rooftops.
“Bjorgon, have you tried raising the local constable yet,” Valkyr asks while still examining
the dark snow emanating from the huge drift.
Bjorgon: Yes, Valkyr. But it was to no avail.
“Hmmmmm,” replies the dragon man. He slings his sturdy weapon over his shoulder by its
strap and stoops to the ground on one knee. Pushing the lower face guard of his riding jacket
down with a gloved hand, Valkyr bites the finger tips of his thick gloves and frees his hand of its
warm confines.
Dipping his thick index finger in a patch of the stained snow, Valkyr looks more closely at the
dark substance. He rolls it between thumb and forefinger and then finally dabs it on the tip of his
tongue.
“Dragon blood,” he says, now looking at the large mound of snow piled before him.
“Bjorgon, give me a hand with this snowdrift.”
The large, Burgundy dragon sidles up to the white, fluffy mound that was nearly as large as
him. Bjorgon starts digging the snow away from the front of the drift with his paws, looking
much like a giant dog trying to retrieve a buried bone. Within seconds, he strikes something
solid.
Bjorgon glances over at Valkyr.
Bjorgon: Found something.
Then, the dragon stops digging and uses his front paws to push the snow to either side of the
object. A few more seconds pass, during which time Valkyr has made his way up the side of the
drift for a better vantage point.
Finally, Bjorgon’s efforts reveal part of what was buried in the snow drift. The two peer
down the hold and see the large, crimson muzzle of the red dragon of Port of Frios.