(Dragonkin) Dragon Rider

by C. E. Swain

  "I will get to you in a minuet stranger, and we will see about your smart mouth then."

  "Why not get to me now." Menimeth said, removing his cloak as he stood, and drawing out one of his Elvin swords.

  The look on Rylee's face at the sight of the golden dragon on Menimeth's breastplate went unnoticed by the others. He moved from the corner where he stood by the fireplace, stopping behind his boss. With a snarl on his face, Grif rushed Menimeth swinging his sword at his head, while Dralin moved around him to attack from the side. Dralin was the first to go down, wounded, but not dead. He was out of the fight, and Kyler stood over him with a blade to his throat. Grif was not as lucky, and lay dead on the floor at Menimeth's feet seconds later. Rylee was gone. Slipping out the door during the fight, he mounted his horse, and disappeared into the night. The lone patron, which had been the target of Grif and his accomplices, stood and finished his ale looking down at the dead man at the warrior's feet. All of the citizens in the towns and villages along the great road feared Grif. He was a killer and a thief, who prayed on the weak, but he was also the best fighter in the western lands. Who was this warrior in dragon armor that he could kill such a man so easily? He would have to learn more about this man, he thought.

  "Thank you for your help sir. My name is Semeon, and I am in your debt." The man said, before turning, and walking out the door.

  "Don't worry about them," the tavern owner said. "I will clean up this mess."

  "You may keep whatever they have on them for your trouble, and we will leave you to it." Menimeth said, following Kyler up the stairs, and to their rooms.

  The next morning as they rode from town, the people watched them go while talking to one another in quiet tones. News had spread quickly about the death of Grif, and in the other towns along the way they received the same treatment. When they reached Argnon it was the night before the fair was to begin. Men were camped all around the town, and the fair grounds as well, as they waited for the competition to begin the following morning. Menimeth and the men from Alenvale were searching for a place to camp for the night, when a frightened boy approached them.

  "My master sent me to get you," he said. "There is a room for you at the Red Falcon, and he would like for you to stay at his inn. It is the only room in town, and it is the best we have."

  The boy turned, and without waiting for an answer, headed down the road to the inn. Menimeth and his companions followed the boy to the Red Falcon, and the room that awaited them there. Tomorrow his plans would change, and he would be set on a path that would change the Great Empire forever, he just did not know it.

  Chapter Four

  The shadows were growing long when the beast awoke. He raised his head and looked around the small cave that he was in, senses alert for any danger that might be present. There was a small stream of water, which came out of the wall, and landed in a pool across the cave from him. He watched as the bubbles floated across the pool, then disappeared under the rocks on the other side. There was something in the back of his mind, a shadow of a thought, or was it a voice. He could not tell for sure, but he would think about it later. Right now he was hungry, and the hunger was consuming his thoughts. It was passed time for him to feed, and there were grazing animals in the clearing below, he could smell them. He liked the fat little deer that he found here, they were easy to catch, and good to eat. His mind was filled with the thought of the tasty meat, and fresh blood just waiting there, as he arose from his bed, and walked to the pool. Drinking deeply, he turned and walked to the opening of the cave, stretched his wings, and leaped into the air. He would grab a buck in each front claw, eat his fill, and then he would think about the voice in his mind, he was sure now, it was a voice.

  After he gorged himself on the deer, and had rolled in the grass by the lake, he thought about the voice as it called to him. He was beginning to become aware of the magic that flowed through him, and the memories of the dragons that came before him as well. As he thought about the voice it came to him. It was his master calling, and he knew his name now, he had always known his name. They were born at the same time, and on the same day, and each had a part of the other inside him.

  Danorathin had reached his full size now, and was the biggest dragon ever to take to the skies. His deep bronze color was the first of its kind, and he was one third again, bigger than the brown dragons of the old empire. The brown dragon and his rider led the smaller, Tan, and gray dragons that made up the bulk of the squadrons of the Great Dragon Empire, into battle. The dragon and his rider stayed together always, dying at the same time when the dragon grew too old. Only when one dragon died was another born, and the riders were magically linked from birth to their dragons, living far beyond the lives of ordinary men.

  He took one last roll in the grass before launching into the air, gaining altitude with each stroke of his mighty wings. No dragon had died to make way for him in the world, as was the way of dragons, even though they always made sure their population stayed constant, to keep the flow of magic in check. The last five hundred years without dragons had caused the magic of the land to warp, and twist. The dark side of magic had a power all its own, but the evil of the spell Arnoran had used caused a rift in the flow of magic, and created the warp. Not until the evil of that spell was undone, would the land where it was cast be restored. The flow of magic was everywhere, and in everything that existed, but it was the dragon that held it in check. Without the dragon, the flow of magic would warp and twist, until it could no longer exist, and then all things magical would no longer be in the world of man. Several of the races in the lands were tied to magic, as well as many plants and animals. Magic was in the grass, and in the trees, and in the stones. It was in the water, and in the air, and in the very land around them, but most of all, it was in the dragon.

  The spell Arnoran used, captured the remains of the armies of the Great Dragon Empire, and the dragon's riders as well as their dragons, and froze them in that moment in time. With the dragons gone but not dead, the power, that the spell required, put Arnoran in a magical slumber instead of killing him. The balance of magic was changed, and in the end, Danorathin was born to reverse the changes created by the dragon's absence, along with another.

  Flying higher, and circling the lake as he gained altitude, Danorathin took one last look at the mountain and the cave that was his home since birth. The time had come to leave the hatching ground behind, and make the journey into the land of his master. Though he had never been out of the mountains and valleys of the ancient lands of his kind, he knew the land of his master was where he belonged. They were born to bring a balance back to the flow of magic, and to return the land to its people. Both man and dragon were created by magic, and were not like the rest of their kind.

  Danorathin was larger than any other dragon ever born in their ancient lands, and carried the traits of all of the other dragons that came before him. All of the magical abilities that each one possessed were concentrated in him and his master, and they were unlike any of their kind. His master was of the race of man, and was the first one ever to be born with magic abilities. Unlike mage's who must study the ancient knowledge to learn magic, and are limited in what they can learn by its availability, his master was born with the magic inside of him, and only needed Danorathin to have it at his command.

  The sky had a deep blue hue, and the sun was warm on his back as he flew. The valleys below were filled with trees, and offered a place for the dragon to rest when he needed it. Outside of the hatching grounds, more game was available to him, and he took advantage of the opportunity to gain the extra weight. There would be a few times when only farmlands would be below him, and game would be scarce there. The domestic stock of men was not very good to a dragon, and they would not eat them for any reason. It was not the way of a dragon to harm people, or their homes, and avoided their lands whenever they could.

  Danorathin chose to fly through the mountain valleys, only as long as they allowed him to travel southwest
. He knew Arnoran was awake again, and using magic to try to regain his former power. He also knew the mage king was aware he existed, and was on his way to find his rider. The mage king himself had warned Danorathin of the danger to come, when he used magic to communicate with his Servants and his armies. Soldiers of Arnoran were in the old empire, and he needed to get to his master before anything could happen to him.

  *****

  Litlorn traveled the road south out of the Elvin Kingdoms, through the pass of Dem'loran, and into the Great Empire. When he was a boy this had been known as 'The Great Dragon Empire', but that was a long time ago, and now he was a man and the dragon riders of old were gone. He traveled to Argnon to find Menimeth as his father had told him, but he went willingly. He now understood what was happening, and would have gone even if he had not been sent. He carried gifts from his father to be given to the warrior and his companions before they departed Argnon, and one gift he supplied himself.

  His father Loran, had collaborated with a curious dwarf named Donderan during the time he grew up, and they worked in secret in the forges for many years. The results of that effort, and all those years, were in the bags loaded on the packhorse behind him. The Great North Road began at the end of the pass of Dem'loran, and traversed the empire to the Purple Mountains in the south. In the days of his youth it was still safe to travel the roads of the empire, but now it was not. Litlorn traveled among the trees far enough off the road to avoid highwaymen, but not so far that he missed the towns along the way. He knew from his father that the man he sought, would be in Argnon when he arrived, and would need his help.

  During the night of the first full moon, and two weeks and four days into the Western Empire, he saw the men moving west through the wilds. Sleeping in the treetops as he usually did when in the wilds, he woke to see them in the distance. They were not from this land, and it was obvious, by the way they traveled. Men who used the wilds, avoided the places that were consistently difficult to cross, but these did not. In fact, they seemed to choose the hardest way through the thickest part of the wilds in which to travel. There were too many small groups going the same way to be natural for men, but they were spaced far enough apart to go unnoticed by any one other than an elf, or a dragon.

  He wanted to see what they were doing here, and where they were going, but did not have the time to investigate. He would wait until he reached Argnon, and relay the information to whoever may think it of interest. Litlorn had been to Argnon before, but only once, since the dragons disappeared, and not for more than one hundred years. The lives of men were very short compared to Elves, and he never knew what to expect when he came to their lands. The dwarf's however, lived almost as long as the Elves.

  He visited Kraudgov under the Purple Mountains several times since his childhood, and each time that he traveled across the lands of men, new towns were where no town was in the past, and towns they once visited, were no longer there. The land grew wilder, and there were fewer people each time he came here, but this time it was almost empty for the lands of men. These groups that traveled at night had no women with them, as far as he could see, and he could see no sign of them during the day from the treetops, or any hill he came across, and he thought it odd.

  Three nights of watching as they made their way west, gave him time to study the mystery further. On the fourth night however, he could see them no longer. He did not believe the groups of men no longer traveled, but that they only used the wilder northern part of the Great Empire. Elves could see farther than all of the other races, but even they could only see so far.

  Menimeth would know what this mystery was about, though he was not raised in this land, he knew the ways of evil men from his years of chasing Chidren. Litlorn's father had told him everything about the warrior that he knew, and he received news of him often. For the longest time, he did not understand why his father showed so much interest in someone from the race of man, because they lived such short lives, and worked so hard while they lived, that it seemed that they burned themselves up too fast. All their work appeared to be for nothing to the other races, because nothing of it remained for very long after they were gone. Not since the dragon riders and their stone castles, did the works of man survive more than one or two hundred years.

  Two months had passed since he had seen the men in the wilds, and he was much farther south now. Argnon was no more than a few days away, and Litlorn needed time to prepare the gifts he was too present to the men he was sent to find. A small stream flowed lazily by as Litlorn rode beside it, until he found what he was looking for. The stream wound its way through the countryside, sometimes turning back on itself as it flowed. The place he found was where a bend had been created in the stream by a hill that stood in its path. There was a glade in the bend with a very large oak tree in the center, and smaller oaks were around it. A waterfall had formed at the base of the hill that caused the stream to change its course, and it dropped three feet into a pool, before moving on. Litlorn rode to the base of the large tree, and unloaded the packhorse. He removed the saddle from the one he rode before moving them to the grass that was close to the water, and cast a spell to hide his camp, and then built a fire.

  After his supper was eaten, and everything was cleaned and put away, he worked at his task until it was complete. Everything was separated and wrapped in silk, then tied with spun gold thread. It had rained a few weeks before, and the stream was still full from the water it produced. He had filled his water skins from the waterfall and placed them on a branch just above the ground, to cool better during the night. He did not worry about his camp because of the spell he placed on it, but no one could have crept up on him anyway. It was late when all was completed to his satisfaction, and he climbed the tree to sleep.

  The next morning Litlorn changed from his worn traveling cloths, and after bathing in the stream, he dressed in Elvin silks, and his best leather boots. From here on he would take the road west to Argnon, and he would travel like the prince he was. The royal house of his father, and of his father's father, must be acknowledged and shown every courtesy.

  The morning was still and quiet when Litlorn rode into Argnon, and then to the fairgrounds beside the castle. There were men camped all around the town and castle, and the sun would not be up for close to two more hours, but he had not expected to find so many here when he arrived. With this new development, a vantage point from the trees would offer him time observe, and plan his unannounced arrival.

  The horses were hobbled near plenty of grass, and close to water, before Litlorn cast the spell to hide them. He would retrieve them later if all went well, and he would just get them and leave if it were not. The gray of morning barely illuminated the land around him when he spotted the warrior. He walked from the town in the direction of the castle, and to the garrison's gates. Had he not met the man when he accompanied his father to the borders of their kingdom, after Menimeth had saved his life, he would have known him anywhere. Though he wore a cloak, it was obvious he was a warrior, and different from the other men that now moved about the grounds. Litlorn watched as the warrior walked the fairgrounds and studied them, before returning to the gates of the garrison. As the doors to the garrison opened, and the captain of the guard exited along with his men, Litlorn decided to stay where he was and watch.

  When the day's events were over, and the men who had competed in it were leaving the grounds, the prince of the western realm of the Great Elvin Kingdoms pulled his hood down over his head, and walked from the trees. The dragon of gold, which shined in the sunlight, was his objective, and he walked to the man who wore it. He did not know it then, but events were unfolding that would affect all of the races in the lands of magic. The struggle for power and control of the race of man, would decide the fate of all of the other races, and magic itself. The man he had come to find, would become his friend as well as his companion, and would remain so. Another Great War was beginning, and his part in it had just begun.

  *****


  Semeon went to his room in the inn, and searched through the scrolls he carried with him when he was away from Brinden. There was something about the warrior that killed Grif, which captured his attention. An old legend from a time almost forgotten, referred to a lone warrior who would begin the new age. It was a very old parchment, and he only kept certain copies of parts of the scroll with him.

  As he searched, he tried to recall what was written of the old legends. There was something about the return of the king of the empire, and the second Great War, He could not remember. If he did not have it with him, he would look at the scroll when he returned to Brinden.

  He did recall the first four lines of the verse, and he wondered if it was somehow related.

  A Warrior from the West

  And all will call him King

  In the Colors of the Empire

  With a Dragon Riders Ring

  He repeated it several times, trying to remember the lines that followed, but in the end, he resigned to wait until he reached his home in Brinden.

  He did not know it, but his life was soon to change forever.

  Chapter Five

  Rylee was stunned to see the dragon armor in the tavern, and the man still alive who wore it. Five good men were sent to the crossroads to ambush and kill him weeks ago. They were told he would be coming down the great road, and to bring back the head as proof of his demise.