Dragons of Daegonlot: Book One
Dragon Orb
By Shanlynn Walker
Copyright © 2015 by Shanlynn Walker
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This story is a work of fiction. Names and characters are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Printing, 2015
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Survivor
Adopted
Conflict
Chapter Two
Hatched
Hatchling
Chapter Three
History Lesson
Chapter Four
Riiele
Chapter Five
Danger
Chapter Six
Departure
Chapter Seven
Crash Landing
Company
Chapter Eight
Trakon
Chapter Nine
Friendship
Chapter One
You may trod me in the very dirt but still, like dust, I’ll rise.
~Maya Angelou
Survivor
The dragon climbed to the top of the hill, her last surviving egg clutched gently in her huge jaws. Exhausted by the long trek, she gingerly placed the egg on the ground and curled herself around it, half closing her eyes as she rested. From her vantage point she could see the town of Goldspine sparkling in the valley below.
Goldspine was not a huge town given its location on top of a floating island vaguely resembling a dragon’s head. The island itself was known as Daegonlot and it was the last place the dragons roamed unmolested. Few people knew of its existence, and fewer still knew there were still dragons living upon it, and fewer than that knew there was an actual town nestled within its central valley. The old dragon knew this had not always been the case. She could remember when dragons and dragon riders were tolerated, and even welcomed, in Darkenfel. But that was long ago, when the races and kingdoms were starting to emerge from the Myste and discover each other, before the bitter wars were waged for land and homesteads.
The dwarves and the elves were old races, although the dragon could also remember when they first emerged, or evolved would be more appropriate. The elves had evolved from the ancient fey until they were as separate from the fey as a rock is to a mountain. They had lost much of their innate wild magic, but what they retained was still powerful. The old dragon doubted there was an elf alive that really knew their true history. It seemed as time went on they forgot more and more of where they came from until they became convinced they had just always been. But the dragon remembered.
She also remembered the dwarves who had once been lost rock spirits known as the mimotan. They had lost their homes during the massive land movements that split Daegonlot from the lands below and had wandered, lost, for many years before starting to convene and evolve into flesh and blood creatures.
Snorting, the dragon shook the memories from her mind and peered down at Goldspine again. She was dying. She doubted she had another day of life left in her. This did not scare her. Over her long, long life she had seen many wondrous things as well as many terrifying things and she knew that eventually all creatures died. She had outlived every single other dragon she had known when she was young. For the past few months she had been growing weaker, losing all appetite, and had been given to dozing off for long periods at a time, lost in the past that was held in her mind. It was for this very reason that her other eggs had perished. Most of them had been scavenged by other animals, taken while she was lost in the past or getting water from the lake. The one she was now curled around was the last of the nine eggs she had laid and she knew she would not live to hatch it.
What was left of the dragon riders now lived in Goldspine, separated from the rest of the world on their floating island. She knew they would have the knowledge to care for her egg. Lowering her head, she gently nuzzled the onyx egg. Small veins of crimson and purple wound through the shell and small silver spots covered the surface. The old dragon had never been bonded to a rider and had never wanted to be. She had been born wild and lived wild her whole life and that was what she wished for her hatchling. But she knew if she left her egg in the wilderness and died before it hatched it would not survive. Even if by some miracle it did survive there would be no one to teach the newborn how to hunt or how to fly.
She blew out a small stream of fire to warm the egg and gently reached out with her mind to the tiny consciousness inside. She thought it was a male hatchling. The tiny life already had a willful mind and an assertive personality, bordering on aggressive. With the mental link still intact, she poured her knowledge and memories into its tiny mind, hoping it would retain at least some of the knowledge she possessed. It was still quite young for such complex transference, but she had very little time left to pass on her vast stores of knowledge and she wanted to give it the best chance for survival she could.
Feeling even weaker from maintaining the link with her young, the dragon gently closed her jaws around her egg again and, spreading her massive wings, launched herself off the cliff toward the town below.
Adopted
Daxon was walking home. Once again he had attended a Hatching, and once again, he had not been chosen by any of the five newborn hatchlings. Already sixteen years old, he knew it was unlikely he would ever be chosen. Most hatchlings chose their riders right out of their shells, and most of those selected were not more than twelve. Some were as young as six. This gave both the hatchling and the chosen rider plenty of time to grow and learn together, as well as to solidify their bonding. Even though Daxon was obviously of Elven descent due to his slanted eyes, slightly pointed ears and delicate bone structure, he was still just as tall as a human boy of sixteen, although probably more slender, and the chances of being chosen at this stage were slim to none.
Even worse than not being chosen were the looks of pity from Borl and Sikir. They both knew how much he wanted to be a dragon rider. Ever since they had taken him in when he was just a young child of five or six years old, stumbling and alone in the surrounding forest, all he had ever talked about were dragons. He had taken to their bondmates, Bruul and Sasha, talking to them incessantly and trying to glean any knowledge he needed to be fit to be a rider.
And here he was sixteen, well past the age of being chosen. There had been a time tonight when the last dragon to hatch, a small, slender silver with bronze claws and spine spikes, had lurched toward him and his heart had risen into his throat. It had tottered right by him to a small red headed girl who looked to be about ten years old. He knew she was the daughter of Sol and Nema. In a town of only a few hundred people it was hard to not know everyone. He told himself he was happy for her, and he was, but he was also bitterly disappointed. Being a rider is all he ever wanted to be, and now as that dream seemed further and further out of reach he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He had never thought of being anything else and had never learned, or even tried to learn, another skill. All his time had been spent learning as much as he could about dragons and being a rider.
Glancing up at the darkening sky he pinpointed the dragon constellation, Dragir, just beginning to wink into existence. It was then he noticed there was another dragon in the sky, which normally would not be anything extraordinary, except this dragon was not the silver, gold, and bronze hue of most of the remaining rider’s dragons. Due to years of exile and the limited number of dragons and
riders who had survived and founded Goldspine, the rider’s dragons had over time become almost uniform in color with only an occasional occurrence of green or red spine spikes.
Squinting, Daxon saw this dragon was black. Not only was its color not the normal color of a rider’s dragon, it was also easily three times the size of any of the dragons from the town. Daxon knew there were wild dragons on Daegonlot but he had seldom seen any and the few times he had it had always been from a distance. The wild dragons had not ever attacked the town, but they stayed separate and did not socialize with the ‘tame’ dragons.
This dragon was flying directly to the town, its huge wings blotting out what little sunlight was left in the sky. The people leaving the Hatching hadn’t noticed it yet, and as Borl and Sikir walked up to Daxon and saw him staring open mouthed at the sky, they, too, turned and looked. And their mouths fell open in surprise.
The dragon landed about one hundred yards from Daxon, and then stumbled two or three steps before falling heavily, the huge head and fangs as long as his arm just a few mere feet from where he was standing. Everyone on the street seemed stunned to silence and all that could be heard was the dragon’s heavy breathing. The dragons from the town seemed unsure of what to do with the massive behemoth that had just landed in their midst, most of them taking to the sky to wheel overhead in case the huge beast attacked.
The strange dragon opened one eye and looked directly at Daxon. As she did, Daxon noticed she was holding something in her mouth, but he couldn’t make out what it was as it was partially hidden from view by her huge teeth. Just then he felt a very wild, very alien voice speak to him.
My egg, the voice said. Take my egg. The voice sounded like an earthshake in his head, powerful and gravelly all at once. Daxon realized it was the dragon speaking to him and the thing she had in her mouth was an egg. Unsure if he should approach the dragon, whose teeth, he noticed, were wider than he was, he took a tentative step forward. Borl immediately reached out and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, but Daxon shook it off, waving that he was alright.
He took another step forward and the dragon opened her mouth slightly and pushed the egg to the front of her mouth on her tongue. Watching her warily, Daxon closed the rest of the distance between them and peered at the egg. It was huge. The largest dragon egg he had ever seen, which shouldn’t have been surprising seeing how massive the mother was. There was no way he could lift the egg himself, so turning, he gestured for Borl and Sikir to come forward as well. Moving slowly, they walked up until they were standing by Daxon and looked into the dragon’s mouth.
Daxon heard Borl inhale sharply. “She wants me to take her egg,” Daxon said. “Can you help me lift it?”
Borl stared at him long enough that Daxon thought he was going to refuse, but with a sharp nod he reached into the dragon’s mouth and rolled the egg to the edge of her long tongue. The three of them wrestled the egg out of her mouth, all the while casting wary looks at the massive fangs just inches from their heads. Carefully, they lowered the egg to the ground but couldn’t move it much further. The egg reached to Borl’s chin and even with both arms extended he could not encompass more than half of the narrow end of it.
With the egg finally out, the dragon slowly closed her mouth, her breathing coming faster and shallower.
His name is Drakthir, whispered into Daxon’s mind, and then the mental link was broken and the dragon’s presence withdrew. Stumbling to her feet, the dragon turned and launched herself into the air, disappearing with a few beats of her wings into the now darkened sky.
Conflict
After the wild dragon’s departure chaos ensued. Lyel, whose dragon was the father of the recent hatchlings, approached Borl, demanding to know what had just happened.
“I don’t know,” said Borl, casting a meaningful glance at Daxon.
“She was dying,” Daxon said, although he wasn’t sure how he knew this. “She wanted me to take care of her egg.”
Lyel looked toward the egg and blanched. “There is no way we can hatch a wild dragon here! Who knows what it will be like once it hatches, other than it will most likely be huge from the looks of this egg.” He eyed the egg with a bemused expression.
“It’s still a baby dragon hatchling,” said Daxon, “no matter where it came from. Who knows? Maybe it will choose a rider. The worst that can happen is it will return to the wild.”
“The worst that can happen is it could attack someone and kill them,” muttered Lyel. “The council will have to vote on this. We will convene at first light tomorrow morning. I’ll spread the word.” And with that, Lyel cast one last look at the egg, shook his head, and walked away to notify the others on the council.
Borl turned toward Daxon. “That was either a really brave thing you did, or one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen someone do,” he said.
“She spoke to me,” Daxon said. “I knew she wasn’t here to hurt anyone. She just wanted me to take care of her egg.”
Daxon felt a little guilty saying this because it wasn’t entirely the truth. Yes, the dragon had spoken to him, and it had just wanted them to take care of its egg, but Daxon hadn’t really known for sure she wouldn’t attack him or anyone else. In fact, if things had gone differently, and the townspeople had attacked her, he had a feeling things would not have worked out so well for Goldspine. Dying or not, that had been the largest dragon by far that he had ever seen, tame or wild.
“She spoke to you?” Borl asked.
“Yes. She asked me to take her egg. Then she told me his name was Drakthir.”
Borl looked back at the egg, then at Daxon again. “Would you mind if I had Bruul and Sasha move the egg into our empty cavern? It will be easier to watch and make sure nothing happens to it, and they can help keep it warm until it hatches.”
“Does this mean you’re going to vote to keep the egg?” asked Daxon warily. He really wanted to keep the egg, especially since the mother had given it into his care. It was his responsibility now and he didn’t want to let her down. There was also a part of him that was hoping against hope it would choose a rider, and that rider would be him. If ever there was going to be a hatchling that could handle an older rider it would be this one. Of this he was sure. Besides, even if the hatchling didn’t choose him as its rider, he would get to care for it until it chose a rider or left to rejoin the wild.
Borl hesitated, glancing at Sikir. She had remained silent throughout their exchange, looking thoughtfully at the egg as if contemplating if its arrival were a good or bad omen.
“Is that what you want?” he asked Daxon.
“Yes,” Daxon said simply.
“Then I will vote to keep it. Besides, no matter how large the hatchling is it will not be as large as its mother. Our dragons should be able to handle any problems that arise until we see if it can fit in here or not.”
With that, he turned away from Daxon, peering up at the dark sky. Within a few minutes Bruul, his large golden bondmate, dropped from the sky, setting down a few yards from the egg. Sasha, also golden, although a lighter shade and with silver spine spikes instead of crimson, landed just a moment after beside him.
The two looked at Borl, and Daxon knew he was speaking with them. He trusted Borl, and he trusted Bruul and Sasha as well. He had known all of them for as long as he could remember.
After just a few moments, Sasha flew off toward their home and Bruul gently grasped the egg in his mouth. Then he, too, flew off.
“They will take the egg to the cavern,” Borl said. “You go ahead home. I’m going to go visit the other council members and get a feel for what they are saying. Ask Bruul to join me when he’s finished. Neither him nor Sasha seem overly worried about the wild dragon, and both doubt it will hatch and go on a killing spree. Maybe he can help convince the council and their dragons they have nothing to fear.”
Daxon watched Borl walk off, thinking of the council members. Humans, elves, and even a few dwarves lived on Daegonlot. The humans a
nd elves each had two council spots due to them having a higher population. The dwarves only had one. Long ago there had been a few dwarf dragon riders, but there were not any now. Not only did most dwarves have an aversion to heights, and flying in particular, but the dragon hatchlings seemed to know this as well, and it was very rare for a dwarf to get chosen. The dwarves now busied themselves with making weapons and armor, both for riders and dragons, and with carving out dwellings from the surrounding mountains. Even though Goldspine was located in the valley, most of the living quarters were carved from the mountains on either side, accessible from dragon back and by walking up long, winding staircases.
Lyel was the other human on the council. Daxon didn’t really like him. He was a nervous man, always looking around furtively as if waiting for something to jump out of the shadows at him. His dragon, Ricz, was a large bronze male and Daxon liked him very much. Unlike his rider, Ricz was very calm and deliberate in manner. He didn’t speak much, but when he did everyone listened. He was well known for his wisdom and even among the humanoid races he was respected as being a great thinker and problem solver.
The two elves on the council were Obrin and Roila, and they ran the dragonrider school. Daxon liked both of them and knew they both had a love for dragons, tame and wild. Obrin’s bondmate was a small silver female named Balasta and Roila’s bondmate was an enormous gold dragon named Rylik. Daxon liked them both and found it interesting that they were the only solidly colored dragons in Goldspine. The two dragons were mated with each other, but had not yet produced a clutch of eggs.
Obrin had been the first person to ever tell Daxon there were wild dragons on Daegonlot. He had taken him to a lake far north of Goldspine in the hopes of seeing one. They had sat at the lake for nearly three hours before catching a glimpse of a young crimson male with bright orange spine spikes who landed on the far bank of the lake to drink. Daxon had been awed. He had never seen such a colorful dragon, had not even known there were dragons any color other than silver, gold or bronze. When he had asked Obrin why none of the rider’s dragons were colored as this one, he had explained how the dragons had been isolated for many years, with a very small amount of them breeding since there were limited dragons unrelated. He had also explained to Daxon how the wild dragons did not socialize or mate with bonded dragons, choosing instead to keep well away from Goldspine.
The only dwarf on the council was Brik. He was surly and gruff, but an exceptional stone carver. He didn’t care about flying, but he was friendly to all the rider’s dragons and even employed them occasionally to help excavate on his more difficult projects. Daxon didn’t think he would vote to destroy the wild dragon’s egg, but he couldn’t be sure.
Exasperated, Daxon started toward home. There was nothing he could do about it now. He would just have to wait until the morning to find out what the fate of the egg was to be.
Chapter Two
Wild animals never kill for sport. Man is the only one to whom the torture and death of his fellow creatures is amusing in itself.
Dragon Orb (Dragons of Daegonlot, Book One) Page 1
