Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  Leaning pensively on one shoulder, Amyth looked to the ground as he mulled over the question before finding his answering. “The man…Elder Utch…he liked to criticise me. He was a huge bigot too, mistaking me for a slave often! I nearly quit and walked out on that man. However, not many choose to hire a Narrovinian to watch over their possessions, see to the security of their house, let alone the life of an aging man. You Carthinians think us all to be pirates and thieves!” Before Amyth could escalate himself he shook his head and regained his reasonable thought. He didn’t quite know the knight or the extent of his patience and tolerance. Amyth knew that in the presence of the knight all it would take was one wrong word to be given a sudden end. “Anyways…I was at my breaking point and I really was about to retire from that old shack for good. However I thought it’d be good to leave this man some food in the hope he didn’t just starve himself to death after my leave. So after one last hunting trip I returned with a pelt on my back and meat in tow.

  “This man, Utch, when he saw what I had rung in, he called me a shotty shot and a fillet with knife. I defied him, challenging him to do better, criticising him for the lack of ability to make anything of himself. I thought it would’ve shut him up for good or lead to him assaulting me in the least but it seems a bigot hardly favors being belittled and dishonored by a…” he paused, but only briefly. “B-by a man like me. So, he picked up his dusty old bow, trekked into the forest and made something more of himself that day. During that hunt he took to teaching me and I to him in turn. Miraculously we didn’t fight. Instead I used my insight to track and he used his skill to pierce the eye of our game, saving the hide as a whole entirely. From then on we earned one another’s respect, whereas I took my place below him as the humble servant I was, and from then on he…he became a man again. A good man at that too, and he never stopped even when he joined the militia. They said he was old. He proved them wrong while also proving himself to be wise.”

  While this little tale was interesting to the Armor Burnt Knight, Nerr couldn’t have been more preoccupied with his own shenanigans. He dug in a patch of sand just for the sake of digging, before bounding away in the knight’s general direction. He wanted fire, why hadn’t he gotten fire yet in the six minutes he was fireless!? The little dragon wanted fire! He wanted to play with it, to see it and…and play with it!

  But as Nerr bounded to the knight, his claws landed in the very shallow end of the riverside where he then suddenly paused. There was that feeling again; it was that same feeling he felt earlier. It was a feeling that began in his claws, coursed up his spine and tingled within his nose. It was a presence he sensed within the water. In fact there were many, all at varying distances within the lake as Nerr distinguished their depth as well as the speed at which they traveled.

  However, one in particular caught Nerr’s attention. It seemed to be lingering near the blood-drenched waters where Phith rested, patiently waiting. Raising one hand in curiousness his aquatic senses flattened. Now he could only tell a small number of entities but not their location or distance. Putting his clawed hand back down, his senses strengthened once again and the tingling became more distinct between one entity and another.

  “Oh, I feel ya lurking,” Phith murmured to himself, highly anticipating what was to come. Sitting still for long wasn’t the hard part of this whole act, especially with a stinging, bleeding leg within the cold frigid lake. The most difficult part was trying to wrestle the game within its own domain. Sitting patiently and unmoving, Phith felt another soft pulse of water strike his body. It was to his immediate left and he raised his hand just above the location, waiting for another pulse of water, a soft brush of motion to indicate its location and there…it…was!

  Nerr jumped back startled when Phith cried out with one triumphant roar, attacking the waters with his fist in a big splash, battling the waterborne entity Nerr had sensed. After his short gambit he withdrew his fist, revealing to Nerr the scaly, wiggling, shiny, flatheaded thing tangled within his fingers, clutched in a firm grasp it surely would never escape from. It writhed and struggled but the grip of Phith was too great and he wasted no time in clumsily crawling out of the river, withdrawing the knife from between his teeth, only to cut open and tear into the fish.

  Venneith seemed pleased with his performance as Phith discarded the guts and entrails to the rocky, gravelly surface with little concern or care as to what would be made of them. However, Nerr felt he should try his curiosity in taste once more. This time the little scraps of discarded fish guts pressed his curiosity. However, he couldn’t just waltz in and claim them for himself, no! At least not when Phith was near. He seemed mighty and a force to be reckoned with if that shout wasn’t evidence enough. Not only that but they way he savagely tore into the meat also. It was some instinctual cue for the dragon, that such a being was maddened and bloodthirsty and as such should be kept at a healthy distance and tread amongst cautiously.

  With that said, Nerr was still confident Venneith would watch over him and make sure no harm would come to him at the hands of that man, Phith. So Nerr lingered with reserve as he gradually wandered up to the bits of discarded meat. Often he would look to the sky inconspicuously or chirp modestly every few steps, but when he was sure Phith wasn’t looking Nerr would snag a parcel of scrap and swallow it whole, letting lips and teeth smack together, severely undercutting the stealth aspect of his approach as he savored the taste.

  However, soon Nerr caught on that Phith cared not for what he did with the discarded bits of meat. Perhaps this man was a kind brute. One like Venneith too, but as far as Nerr could tell, Phith lacked the ability to ignite let alone spread the fire to share, and so this man became a close second in the dragon’s simplistic, judgmental mind. Just how generous was this man, Nerr wondered. If he lacked fire but fed Nerr generously then what else could he give?

  “Hand me the fish,” Venneith more requested then commanded. “That is if you prefer your food to be cooked.”

  “I think this’ll be the only thing I catch,” Phith murmured as he knelt, shivering from the coldness of the water. “The bait is nearly useless at this point and the fish﹘ Ah, hey!” Phith shouted as Nerr began to paw at his legs, scratching him considerably enough to draw a small amount of blood. “Ouch, get out of here!”

  Nerr didn’t quite appreciate the kick he received, not much more than Phith appreciated being scratched on his freshly cauterised leg. Nerr hissed before darting back four steps only to hide in between Venneith’s legs with a piercing gaze of indignation shooting back at Phith. Naturally, Nerr bared his teeth, flaunting their whitened sharpness warningly, daring to use them if Phith should assault him again.

  Amyth chuckled to himself as the knight softly pat Nerr’s head to calm him. “What? You no match for lil’ dragons now?” Venneith flatley chided Phith. “Is his power too epic?”

  Shaking himself off, he laid the fish down on the rock next to his gambeson before taking his protective clothing and dressing himself with it. “It doesn’t matter how small,” he explained, severely annoyed. “If they got claws and teeth they’ll tear you apart. In time it’ll become like its damn mother and kill more of us.”

  While Phith dressed himself, Nerr only continued to grow more and more loathsome of the man. He simply wanted a bite, a taste of the prize that he had caught. Why was it that Nerr would freely offer the bird only for this man to use it and not pay recompense for his favor? Sure, Nerr had the scraps, but they were just scraps! Nerr demanded more! Phith’s act was just plainly injustice, no different from the fowl or the fur-suited creature. However, if Nerr couldn’t attempt to kill something much larger and stronger than him, then he’d surely steal. It was only fair, again according to a simple-minded dragon.

  But how, the dragon questioned, before immediately remembering the furred creature that assaulted him with brown, pinny rocks and chased him from the woods. Nerr would have loved to see such a creature defeated, yet it was just too fast and quick, being much sma
ller than Nerr and clever too. If Nerr was to steal this thing he would need to be faster and quicker than Phith, and perhaps more clever too.

  In an instant, when Phith had briefly covered his head, putting his gambeson on, did Nerr pounce for the fish, taking it in his maw and bounding down the shoreline with it. A smile cracked over the dragon’s lips as he peered over his shoulder to glance at the man who now suddenly found himself to be severely fishless. Then he began to shout and curse obscenities to the baby dragon. All this while Amyth laughed at the grand spectacle of man being thwarted by a meager dragon not more than a half day old.

  Phith then grew sour. He could tolerate Venneith if he laughed but what he absolutely couldn’t tolerate was being laughed at and belittled by a Narrovinnian. “You silence yourself now!” he commanded the foreigner, violently waving a hand as he did so. “I’ll not take any of this from the likes of you!” Phith lashed out at the floor to aggressively gather his sword in one swift motion. Clearly it was a threat or a show of strength Phith would be sure to utilize should Amyth persist in his heckling.

  “The likes of me?” he growled, pushing himself up to match Phith. Amyth hardly tolerated bigotry, especially from a thickheaded Carthinnian who’d leap at any chance to belittle a man such as him. “I’m a native of Carthol as much as you are! Have you already forgotten about that gash in your leg?” He advanced, prompting Phith poise himself in defence. “How about this time I make it so you can’t strut so highly at all?”

  Phith had expected Amyth to draw his sword, giving him ample opportunity to intercept the attack. However, when that didn’t happen Phith figured it was then his turn to retort. However what he didn’t expect was to be so suddenly socked in the face with one quick step forward of the Narrovinnian. A slight advancement to be precise and one that concluded the fight before it even had a proper introduction.

  Clutching his face with both hands, Phith reeled back from the sudden assault only to trip over a stone and fall heavily to the ground. Letting out a slew of swears, Phith grimaced on the ground and raised a hand to indicate he yielded.

  With hardly a sign on entertainment in his voice, Venneith said, “Alright, that’s enough. A good show nonetheless, but there is no reason to rub salt in your wounds, the both of you! Not while you’re around me.”

  Still holding his nose, Phith clumsily pushed himself up before muttering, “I’ll be sure to remember that on our arrival to Marrin this evening.”

  “You Bigot!” Amyth growled. “I’ll Put You In Your Place A Third Time If That’s What It Takes!”

  “I Said Enough!”

  Hiding away atop a tree perched a black little dragon, huddled around his prize. Nerr had watched the event take place, all while he happily consumed the fish. He took an immediate liking to the Narrovinnian after he witnessed him strike that mad man. Where Phith was held in high regard to the dragon in strength, that lesser man now took immediate second as Nerr’s very favorite yet still coming nowhere near Venneith and the high regard the dragon held him in, which only solidified further once the knight let out his mighty roar. It was powerful and seemed to command the lesser men, even going as far as to make the dragon tremble for it was power the dragon found himself highly attracted to.

  “There will be no talk between the two of you,” the knight mightily warned, waving his armor-plated hand between the two. “And seeing that you seem to carry yourself quite well, Phith, it’d be a good consideration to carry another sword or shield of the fallen too then, yes?” Pulling the sword-filled scabbard of a slain man from his shoulder, Venneith held his sword-filled fist to Phith’s chest until he took it from him. “Amyth,” he now suddenly addressed as soon as Phith collected the blade. “Gather everything else. We’ll not waste any more time. We leave now to find a familiar trail and be back at the village by dusk. Understood?”

  They both nodded, but it was Amyth who asked, “What about the dragon, Venneith?”

  “He lingers in the trees,” Venneith answered all too confidently. “He’ll follow if anything. There’s no doubt in my mind that it knows me to be his master like a pup does his owner.” With one last look to the two he nodded his head before turning west. Without another word he led the two as he made way for Carthol and the village within the district of Marrin.

  Like Venneith had said, Nerr did follow. All throughout the day in fact, hopping from tree to tree as the three men ventured to Marrin. None often spoke, Nerr knew because of his immense hearing, but while they’d walk along Nerr would often meet new little creatures of the forest.

  Chirping about, he’d call for kind company, nothing like the traitorous magpie or the mischievous squirrel, but just kind company in general. He made friends with more avians of different color who also sang different songs. At first when they’d discover the baby dragon they’d be hesitant, offering up wavering and unsure tunes, but Nerr would often assure them by playfully throwing up his head, chirping his own uncoordinated song as he did so.

  When they did grow confident enough, they’d fly to the same branch looking the black baby dragon up and down curiously while Nerr did the same, taking in each vibrant colored feather and palette of the flying creatures. They’d both spread their wings as Nerr had learned was custom when meeting new avian creatures, and they’d exchange songs. The birds’ were always more cheerful and harmonious while Nerr often sang what would often be less described as songs and more fittingly described as obnoxious, faintly bird-like noises.

  However, Nerr would catch on later in his early days that bird songs were supposed to sound harmonious and peaceful, but until then each bird seemed perfectly content with this strange creature. They’d fly in to greet him, those that knew him, but then fly off one last time never to see this creature again as he hopped from tree to tree, roughly gliding, half falling around as he sniffed out his master’s scent and followed quickly. However, the more they traveled west the more Nerr began to notice the forest beginning to change quite oddly.

  Firstly, the plants and herbs below began to vanish the further they traveled. Soon there was almost none. Secondly, the trees grew more weirdly to say the least. Where the trees of the deep forest grew wild and natural, here they just simply seemed strange. They were bent weirdly, most were elongated from the base of the trunk with hardly any leaves along their branches let alone actual branching branches.

  The forest appeared a lot more clean and organised surprisingly enough, but to Nerr it was a mighty inconvenience as he could no longer hop from branch to branch as they seemed far too brittle and bent with immense ease. Hopping on one particularly thin branch, Nerr was immediately deposited onto the ground as the branch gave way to his weight, dropping him without hesitation.

  Great! Now the forest betrayed the poor black dragon and in rage Nerr yelped and struck the tree several times with his claws with contempt. Yet his rage didn’t last long as, after giving the tree its due, he sniffed out his protector and picked up on his location once again rather quickly, for he was very close.

  Bounding across the well-kept forest laden with dead leaves, he called out when he saw Venneith. Being sure to keep a good distance away from Phith, Nerr approached the knight from behind, bounding across the ground before giving the man Phith a sour look of immense indignation. When he reached Venneith he couldn’t help but leap at his legs and begin crawling up his armor. For a brief moment Venneith stumbled, but as soon as he realised just who was climbing him did he calm himself and welcome Nerr, who now sat atop his helmet.

  “Nerr, that’s not going to work,” Venneith said before carefully pushing the dragon off to his shoulder instead.

  “That thing is a lot like a kitty, it seems,” Amyth spoke, watching the dragon jest about as it stumbled from one shoulder to another, chirping while also beginning to somewhat bark in a dragon-like tone.

  “Hmm, It’s got the claws and temperament of one,” Venneith mused in partial agreement.

  “Yes, but did you not just hear it bark?” Phith a
sked. “Let alone its loyalty to Venneith, cats are nothing akin to loyalty.”

  “It barked, yes,” Venneith agreed. “But it also chirps like a bird and I’ll assume it can fly too with the grand wings it adorns.”

  “And what’s next?” Phith asked, as they neared the end of the coppiced woodlands tended by the villagers. “You think it’s going to start talking like a man?”

  For a moment Venneith paused in his stride, as if to give this idea some serious consideration. It wasn’t as if talking beasts were out of the realm of mythology or even relatively recent beastly occurrences.

  Taking Nerr by the body, he held the baby dragon out in front to face him. “Let’s see,” Venneith began. “Little dragon, Nerr, can you speak? Can you show us the knowledge and hidden truths that dragons are said to possess? Don’t be shy, it’s me, Knight Venneith, your master.”

  As all three watched the dragon while the day gradually grew into eve, Nerr hung there in Venneith’s grip rather relaxed and calm. The dragon looked from one to another before resting his gaze on Venneith. His head tilted and slowly his wings began to expand as his arms and legs slowly extended. His mouth opened, and just as it seemed the dragon might speak, he instead mightily sneezed, tensing his whole body in the process.

  He then shook himself off and chirped at Venneith, confused at why he was suspended in the air like this. He then began to lightly claw at his wrist before the knight set him down on his shoulder. Nerr liked this particular spot on Venneith; it was easy to balance and his head was the perfect height to rest his own on as he crossed his arms near the knight’s neck in a firm grasp.

  The day was ending and the light retreated, leaving the darkness to fill the void left in the nature of Nerr’s existence. Nerr cared little for the darkness, not only because he was in the presence of his Burnt Armored protector, but because this particular darkness seemed more kind than the black abysmal cave Nerr had first found himself in.