Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy

by Warren, Samantha

  He stretched his wings as far as the stall would allow. They felt fine, no longer stiff and painful like they had been a few days ago. His wounds were healing and his only ache was for revenge. The friends sat talking for awhile, relating stories from their time apart and rehashing fonder memories from their journey together. The sun was nearing its apex when the old woman hobbled into the building.

  "Hello, Jora," Ychthorn said to the camp leader, bowing his head slightly in respect.

  "Hello, Ychthorn," the woman returned, her voice soft and raspy from old age. "How are you feeling this fine day? Are you ready to join Cerol?"

  "Oh, yes," exclaimed the dragon. "I can't wait. My wings are growing weak from disuse, I think." He wiggled them gently to accentuate his point.

  "Come then. Your friends and I will walk you to the dragon fields where Cerol is waiting. He will take you up and make sure you are fit to prepare for battle."

  The red dragon nodded eagerly and they all left the stable, walking west toward the large area reserved for dragons. Fields was a bit of a misnomer, as the area consisted of not only large fields, but a fairly substantial chunk of forest, as well. Several large buildings were arrayed in what appeared to be a village and more were located at various places throughout the fields and along the treeline. Fires glowed brightly in the village and near the buildings on the outskirts. Running through the middle was a wide river where several dragons could be seen bathing in the cool waters or lounging in the sun along the shore.

  Lana gasped in amazement. She had never seen so many dragons in one place, even in Jaje. There were more than fifty going about various tasks in the village. She inquired as to the number of dragons present in the entire camp and her jaw dropped when she was told that it housed more than four hundred total. Jora informed her that at least a fifth of them were off on duties throughout Layr, including relaying messages and providing support to weaker camps. Jora also explained that the buildings she saw dotting the treeline were homes, much like those of humans and Gypsies.

  As they approached the village, they could see a golden dragon of medium height haggling with a smaller blue dragon near a fire pit. The gold dragon held a beautiful beaded necklace in a clawed fist, which he waved at the blue dragon, who stood guard over a roast suckling pig. Their negotiations apparently concluded, the blue dragon sliced a large chunk off the pig and set it on a wooden plate, which he handed to the gold dragon after receiving the beads. Spying the newcomers, the golden dragon quickly ate his meal and thanked the blue dragon before making his way through the crowd. Bowing in respect, he greeted Jora and waited for her to complete introductions.

  "Cerol, you remember Ychthorn." The two dragons greeted each other warmly. "These are his friends. This lovely young lady is Chelandra, Thorn's companion and sworn protector. She is also Valian's daughter. The young gentleman is Bolgor, fierce warrior and guardian. Bellithana is a healer and fire thrower. She is Graol's daughter, heiress to his camp. Prigol, who you unfortunately cannot see, is one of the most loyal and inventive Hidden to ever grace our presence."

  "It is an honor to meet such a revered group of ladies and gentlemen such as yourselves," returned the golden beast. His voice poured from him like liquid silver, soft and pleasant, as he lowered himself in a half bow. Taking Lana's hand in his, he said, "It truly is a pleasure to meet the daughter of Valian himself." Lana blushed and Bolgor found himself staring with awe, hanging on the dragon's every word, though the words were few.

  "One of Cerol's talents is sweet talking. He can get himself out of almost any situation he manages to get himself into, like last night, when he stole the last tart while I wasn't looking." An earthy brown dragon covered in sunflower yellow stripes had strolled up to the group as they were talking and gave Cerol a friendly nudge.

  "My love," Cerol greeted the other dragon warmly. "I would like you all to meet my wife, Astyria. She is by far the best cook in Layr."

  "Oh, stop." The brown dragon batted her husband with her tail, her cheeks darkening with a slight blush.

  Confusion squinched up Bolgor's eyes and he could not hold his tongue. "How on earth does a dragon cook?" The words burst forth before he could stop them and he bit his lip as his face turned as red as a beet.

  Astyria laughed. "Well, that depends on the dragon and what they are trying to cook. Many are adept at roasting, as you can see from the several vendors throughout the village. Some of the smaller dragons are more nimble with their claws and can master finer recipes using their hands. We have a lovely bakery down the street run by a wonderful little pygmy named Zil. His tarts are a delicacy. I, however, cheat when it comes to cooking. You see, I can control forces of nature. So what I cannot accomplish with my hands, I do with the help of the elements, such as air, fire, water. You get the idea. It took a lot of practice and I made quite a mess at first, but now I'm pretty good at it, even if I do say so myself."

  "We won't mention the house you accidentally incinerated while figuring out black pudding," interjected Cerol.

  "I said I made a mess, didn't I?" returned his wife, batting him gently.

  The group laughed and Astyria invited them all over for dinner later in the week. Bolgor accepted reluctantly, never having been a fan of black pudding and Ychthorn extracted a promise of a cooking lesson from the brown dragon. As Astyria departed, they returned to the purpose of the visit.

  "Cerol, are you ready to take Thorn for a test flight?" The old woman's eyes wrinkled as she looked to the sky.

  "Absolutely. We may wish to wait until the sun sinks toward the horizon, though. It is a bit warm today and there is no need to overexert the invalid unduly." His emerald eye winked at the red dragon, who offered a weak smile. "Come, I'll give you a tour of the fields while we wait." He beckoned the group to follow and they entered the village.

  Cerol walked them first to the fire pit where he had purchased the pork.

  "Thorn, Lana, Bolgor, Belli, Prigol, please meet Wildun. If you have a craving for something roasted, this is the dragon to see. Wil, it is my honor to introduce you to the Famous Five."

  The blue dragon grinned a toothy grin and bowed deeply to the friends.

  "I am so very pleased to meet you," he said. "Would you like to try the best suckling pig you've ever tasted?"

  He cut off chunks of the pig he had given to Cerol and gave the four visible travelers huge hunks of the moist white meat. Prigol watched longingly as they ate, unable to partake of the offering. Jora, who had what the Hidden call the Vision, noticed Prigol's unhappiness and gave him directions to the Hidden's section of Atina. As Prigol wandered off to find his fellow invisible folk, the rest of the group continued further into the dragon village.

  They made their way between a row of wooden buildings. The wares displayed were very similar to those seen in the Gypsies' section of the camp. There were leather vendors offering various clothes and tools, dragons and Gypsies selling jewelry designed for dragons, and more food sellers. All the buildings were large enough for a dragon to stick their heads inside and small enough for them to view everything available without turning their head uncomfortably. The buildings had large doors at the back, allowing dragons who worked in those buildings full access to them as necessary. Some were staffed by Gypsies, but most were run by residents of the fields.

  The last building in the row was the bakery Astyria had mentioned. When they arrived, a little yellow dragon burst through the door, launching himself at their golden tour guide. Lana gasped in fear as Cerol collapsed beneath his opponents ferocious attack. Seeing the girl's terrified face, Jora patted her arm.

  "Do not fear. They are not fighting. Zil knows Cerol is devilishly ticklish. His claws are too small to pierce the scales of Cerol's thick hide, but that means he can tickle fiercely without fear of hurting his friend."

  Lana relaxed and amusement stole across her face as Cerol tried in vain to pin the little dragon's hands. The baker was not even a quarter the size of the larger golden dragon and he did not
waste his advantage. He slipped from Cerol's grasp easily, bouncing from one ticklish spot to the next. Unable to stop the attack, Cerol was forced to concede.

  "I give! I give!" he cried through his continued giggles. Tears streamed from both the dragons' eyes as they fell to the ground laughing and grinning. Cerol patted his friend on the head and introduced the group. "And this is Zil, hands down the best dragon baker in Layr."

  The yellow dragon took on a slightly orange hue and he bowed his head in thanks.

  "Now, now. I doubt I am the best." His voice was high and came out as a song. "But I will accept that I may be second best."

  His tiny pointed teeth stuck out as he grinned at his guests and he invited them to taste his wares. He passed each of the friends a lumpy, fist-sized clump of baked dough. It was spotted with bluish berries. Looking at it doubtfully, Bolgor bit into the treat in his hand. The fluffy dough crumbled moistly in his mouth, sweetness exploding on his tongue. White bits stuck to the stubble that had accumulated on his chin, sending Lana into a fit of laughter. When she had recovered herself, she brushed the crumbs away and kissed him on the cheek. Cerol and Jora shared a knowing smile as Zil handed out more of his baked goods. After sampling several of the pygmy's sweet creations, Cerol suggested a tour of the training fields.

  Chapter 28

  The dragon training fields were located beyond the village. The three fields were separated from the rest of Atina and each other by thick wooden barriers, twice Ychthorn's height. Gypsy shields reinforced the barriers, shimmering in the bright sunlight. All three fields were in use when the group arrived. They watched as two medium-sized purple dragons in the middle field collided high above the barriers. Two Gypsies stood outside the wooden wall, hands stretched toward the pair.

  Cerol nodded toward the men on the ground. "The barriers surrounding each of the fields protect both the combatants inside the shield and the spectators outside the shield. Those Gypsies are trained in shield magic. They have created thin barriers around each of the dragons, allowing them to practice real-time battles without the risk of causing each other harm."

  Chelandra looked to Bellithana. "Can you do that?"

  "I can shield myself temporarily against minor physical attacks, but I am not trained in shielding magic. My talents lay in the fire realm, as you've witnessed far too many times." The woman smiled at her friend, sadness darkening her bright eyes as she thought briefly of the battles they had encountered.

  A cheer from the crowd near the far field drew the curious group over. Stands were erected on the near side of the barrier and the humans climbed to the top as the dragons took flight. Down below, four young dragons were circling each other, pairing off into teams. One of the dragons, an orange female, made a gesture and sparks flew from her claws toward her opponents. Gypsies stood near the side of the field shouting commands to the dragons in the middle, their personal shields shimmering around them. A green dragon in the opposing pair howled in pain and frustration as a spark burned across his flank. He gritted his teeth and sent a volley of fire bolts toward the attacker. After the volley left his claws, the air around him began to shimmer, his shield finally raised.

  Lana gripped Jora's arm. "They're not being shielded? Won't they be hurt?"

  "These dragons are learning shield magic. About a quarter of all dragons have magical abilities. Those dragons are just developing their talents and the Gypsies are their trainers. We hope to have them prepared well enough to provide support during the attack on Rona, though we will keep them out of the main battle. The one who attacked first is gifted in energy strikes. The other is obviously using fire. The green dragon's partner, the yellow one, is telekinetic and the brown one is an earth shaper."

  They watched as the yellow dragon raised up on her hind legs and swung her hands forward as if to clap. The brown dragon dug deep trenches in the earth as he was pushed backward by the force of the attack. Regaining his balance, he placed both hands on the ground and lowered his head, keeping his eyes always on the opposing pair. His lips moved silently and the earth beneath the orange dragon shifted, throwing off her upcoming assault. The battle continued for several minutes before the Gypsies called a halt. The two men approached the dragons in the middle of the field and spoke to them briefly before returning to their place alongside the barrier. As the brown dragon engulfed the opposing pair in a cyclone of dirt, Jora nodded in satisfaction and beckoned for the group to follow.

  They made their way to the last and largest arena and climbed up to sit in the empty stands. Below, they saw a dozen dragons with riders on their backs, divided into two groups . At their head stood the largest dragon Lana had ever seen. He was black with streaks of white running down the side of his face and neck. He was pacing in front of the groups, giving instructions. On his back sat an equally large man, his face grim. The man looked up as the dragon paced and his keen eyes caught those of the young protector. She gasped as his gaze bored into hers and glanced quickly away.

  Jora raised a hand to the man and he returned the gesture. The old woman leaned over and patted Chelandra's arm, a wry smile on her face. "You have officially met Drok. He and the dragon, Kalibus, are the warrior leaders here in Atina. They have been preparing their troops for this battle for many years. The dozen dragons you see down there are the two best squads in Layr." The woman chuckled as Bolgor's eyebrows raised skeptically at that statement. "Believe me, child. I do not exaggerate. They are indeed the best, and you will soon see why. Drok does not usually allow spectators to view the training of these elite warriors, but I have acquired, shall we say, special permission? The shield on this arena is usually opaque when Drok's warriors are in a practice session. Count yourselves blessed to witness such greatness."

  Lana and Bolgor exchanged uncertain glances, which brought a snort from the blue dragon above.

  "They do not believe you, Jora," Cerol said.

  "They will soon," replied the old woman.

  "Hey, Drok." The warrior's fierce eyes rose to meet those of the blue dragon floating above the stands. "These folks do not believe your warriors are the best in the land." Cerol waved a hand toward Bolgor and Lana, who cowered and tried to hide themselves from the man's withering glare.

  "I see." Kalibus stopped pacing and all thirteen dragons, along with their riders, turned to stare at the group watching them. "I guess we had better give them proof, then."

  At a command, the dragons and riders turned and stood in formation, rigid and regal in their practice battle gear. Each dragon wore a full chest plate of chain mail, which ran the length of their underbelly and ended in a loop at their tail. Their neck and flanks were also covered in chain mail with a gap cut just at the shoulders, allowing a saddle to sit comfortably. Greaves covered all four legs, leaving the claws free. Specially crafted helmets, which had been at the feet of the dragons during Kalibus' speech, were swiftly donned.

  Many of the dragons carried spears or other weapons in their hands. Some had an arsenal of weapons attached to their flanks, within easy reach. The riders were outfitted in a similar fashion. Chainmail protected them where steel did not. Each rider had a spear slotted into a special holder on their right boot, a bow attached just behind the saddle, and a quiver of arrows on their back. Most of them carried other weapons, as well, though Jora explained that several dragons and riders were magically gifted and carried no extra weapons. The group on the left had black streamers attached to their saddles, while the group on the right wore white.

  The dragons on the black team lined up in a triangle formation, with a weapon-wielding team standing point. The white team employed a double-pointed triangle arrangement, leaving the middle space in the back row empty. The teams squared off against each other, then, at Drok's command, rose into the air in perfect synchronization. The big black dragon stretched his wings at a touch from his rider and rose to the level of the combatants. He nodded at the heads of each formation before making his way to join the other spectators. The three dragons perche
d on a large platform at the back of the stands.

  Drok raised his arm, received an acknowledging nod from both teams, and shouted, "Begin!"

  The teams advanced on each other. The white team approached the black team quickly, splitting apart as they reached the point of the black triangle. The two leaders of the white team bypassed the black leader and forced their way between him and the pair behind him. The two dragons at the back of the white triangle converged on the black leader, spears in hand. Lana gasped as one of the dragons lunged with a spear. The black leader blocked it with a shield attached to his left arm and swung the mace he carried. His target pulled up just in time, the mace whistling through the air mere inches from his skull. The second white dragon darted in, striking the black leader in the chest with her own spear before he could block. At the same time, the black leader's rider loosed an arrow, which bounced off the head of one of her white riders. Streaks of red paint smeared across the black dragon's chest and the white rider's helmet.

  "Ino, Hila, you're out!"

  The dragon from the white team grimaced and peeled off from the group, landing in the far corner away from the battle with a pout on her face. The black leader glared at Drok for several moments before breaking off from his attack and landing joining his former opponent. The battle carried on as they shouted encouragement to their teammates. The white team leaders split the black team down the middle, forcing the the near pair away from the remaining three. The two smaller dragons on the white team darted at the three black team dragons, engaging them briefly and retreating, keeping them occupied and unable to assist their team. Meanwhile, three white dragons separated the two black dragons. As a dragon from each team faced each other, two white dragons attacked the remaining black dragon. Arrows and spears filled the air as the riders joined the battle.

  One by one, Drok called the dragons out, bright red streaks marring their armor. The spectators watched with fear and awe as the dragons danced skillfully around each other in the air. Bellithana made a sound of appreciation as a bright spark flew from the hand of one of the riders, striking an opposing dragon full in the face. The dragon roared, not in pain, but irritation as the sparks danced over his helmet.