by CC Rose
Chapter 6
Three dragons gazed down at La’Kera. None had spoken in a time since a large Roo’Bineyes bull asked for her presence in the main den, a large and spacious area where over twenty dragons, happily sat—lazed about. Except for three dragons, La’Kera was centre of attention.
“She is small for six moons,” commented the red bull.
“She is to sprout in a few days,” informed Da’Vora as she nudged gently into La’Kera. She was nervous, mostly because of the large bull staring at her as to the others. “Her day of hatching was the third day of the moon, which means it is the third day before her growth of six moons …”
“And she shows great speed in her flights,” commented another.
“A fine achievement for a young one, and for the herd of Dy’Monian. She should be proud.”
La’Kera pushed out her chest, lifting her head higher. I am proud. It seems you are expecting something different and I am not. She inclined her head, shyly, but boldly to those around the room.
Many rumbled and hummed on her words and the bull roared with laughter.
“A might inside the Dy’Monian. That is a whisper of tales to tell. Come. Let the telling begin.” Many dragons rumbled in agreement and followed the bull from the main den to another section.
She spotted Sky’Ros, who was more than happy to hum excitement to her. “You made it. You’re allowed to be here … for the tellings.”
Barely allowed, she said, as she rubbed shoulders with him, and then Al’Tara, who was amused.
“This will be a good telling with Blade’Dur present.”
That’s Blade’Dur? La’Kera was puzzled, though she should have at least asked the bull’s name.
Other dragons nodded, as they gathered and climbed happily on to each to get to a better position for the nights telling. Sky’Ros led her to a section none had taken yet. Allowing her to lie in front of him, as he gently wrapped his tail around her. It was comforting as other dragons sprawled, and lounged themselves around the den.
“What tale shall we speak of tonight?” asked a damn to the far wall.
“The tale of Cotton.” one asked.
“No. The tale of Great Wall.”
“The tale of Vragon Farn.”
“Or the one of White-Rock.”
The endless tales rumbled around the room, La’Kera was dizzy from the constant back and forth, even as the dragons gathered; many were still undecided what was the better tale.
“This moon, the tale of Sy’Rah shall be told,” said Blade’Dur.
“That is a worthy tale.”
“It has been nigh on seven moons since the last telling.”
“Da’Vora. Do you wish to take on the words of Sy’Rah?”
“Oh, no. No. I wish to listen this time.” The large dam inclined her head and sat on the opposite side of the den. Her eyes fell on La’Kera. A rumble of longing came from her, though; her fellow companions soon soothed her.
“Let us begin.” Blade’Dur took up his place in the centre, spreading his wings out, allowing them to touch the ground and to have all eyes on him. “Near on four hundred years ago, an Unnamed Ryder appeared in the sky with a glove of six signs joined as one and a Bond; black as night. The O’Nixian kin beyond the mountains. His Bond, Sy’Rah, with the power of mind. The Ryder of the seventh sign wanted to claim the lands, to be an emperor—to rule us all. But we are not of ruling; then or now. Dangora is for all. For we are of might, and not bowing.
“He unleashed his powers onto the herds. Drew on strengths with each death, he consumed their stones, and the minds of link, and all that was heard, stronger he became. His control of minds made many fall to their knee, against their will, against their might and against their fight, making us weak. Ryders were harder, and they were forced to bend to his way and maim, or he would kill. Tormenting them with whispered thoughts and uncaring commands. Many could not resist his power, many fell to his claws, his teeth and his Bonds sword; and many more joined him with force from sheer cower. Sy’Rah and the Unnamed Ryder were an unstoppable force.
“Taking apart our lands, our ways, twisting magic into darkness like no other. The destruction of the pathways, and the end of Elders reign … For nigh on sixty season change, Sy’Rah made claim to the Heart, and all that was south of the viper’s land, was maimed. The elves were defeated and sought the shadows once more. The people lived in fear. Madness of the mind, fright, and terror consumed them all. Nightmares were pleasant dreams compared to the real horrors that were unleashed with constant roars.
“We fought with mind, with swords, with rock, with wills, with powers and Bonds of mână spells. We fought, and we lost. Many of our brothers and sister fell. Nigh on three hundred years ago, a herd of a thousand vipers attacked and maimed our kin, to become a foe. For three months, they burned and destroyed all things south, for many leagues; vragons would rise and join his side. The numbers of Ryders grew few with each demise. Hiding, running, never staying for long, for fear of Sy’Rah and the Unnamed Ryder. To trick your mind, to fool your thoughts. To make you quiver and fear sleep of a taunt. The herds were loosing, fear drew them apart; there was no stopping the darkness spreading through the heart.
“Until the Dy’Monian proved his weakness, unable to control the Dy’Monians will, for they were of light and magic unknown with meekness. Even then, in the times of unforgiving, any who stood beside one, was freed from Sy’Rah’s grip and given freedom of their mind and the sinning. With the balance turned in our favour, the herds joined as one. Standing strong with might and power, to fight the darkness that had consumed and devoured.
“Many fought the vragons for hours and days. It was Nicolas and his Bond Kl’Ors who fought the O’Nixian for nigh on ten days and eleven nights. Brutal and bloody, there was no end in sight. Their minds were not of Sy’Rah’s will. Kl’Ors pinned the black dragon in a death dive that should have taken both their lives. Kl’Ors did not see the blades of sharp knives the onyx dragon unleashed into his heart. His death was instant, and Nicolas was enraged with fire and heat. He and the Dy’Monian with no name, combined a sword of pure art. A blade of diamond strength and together, they destroyed Sy’Rah, the beast. The beast of nightmares and controller of thoughts, slumped and became stone on the tops of what is now called—Sy’Rahs Fall.
“The scream from the Unnamed Ryder was heard afar. Nicolas swung the diamond blade once more. Taking the Unnamed Ryders glove, severing it. The six parts fell away, broken and un-mended as they may. The O’Nixian dragon and the Unnamed Ryder were slain.
“The darkness was soon to wash away. When the ash’s of the war was mist in the winds, the dead were numbered and many were dim. Ryders and men of blackened hearts, were tainted and tormented to no end. Dark Ryders sought the power of the stone, and it was taken, for reasons unknown. We must be forever on guard. Forever ready to strike the hand who wields the stone of Sy’Rah. We fight the Dark Ryders, vipers, vragons and the delgori. We fight our fallen sisters, our fallen brothers, and our kin. We fight with tooth, claw, and scale, with magic, with force, and with might. For Sy’Rah is still within our sights.” His roar echoed and rumbled around the den as many chorused the sound.
I sloshed water on the floor as the vibrating calls echo to me from the south dens, hours away possibly. They were loud. La’Kera shuffled her wings, engrossed with the story as I was. We both were. To know of a time before three hundred years, when the last Dy’Monian Ryder was seen.
Blade’Dur rumbled. “Sy’Rah may have been destroyed; his stone still eludes us to this night. And we know now, that with the rise of Dy’Monian once more, The Ryder who holds the stone of Sy’Rah will try to awaken the darkness and that is deep within its source.” A flash of flame ended his tale and slowly stepped to the side, to have other dragons rise to the centre to speak of Sy’Rah, to tell of a time before, though as La’Kera scanned the den, her thoughts tumbled to me.
None of the dragons here are older than one hundred and forty years at most … if
that is so, then how do they know so much of Sy’Rah and nothing of my kin?
I don’t know.
I find it odd that they didn’t know who the Dy’Monian was, who fought beside Nicolas to destroy Sy’Rah and use an unknown magic … how would they know. She glanced to Sky’Ros, she debated asking him, only she decided to wait.
“You’re free to return to your chambers,” came a nasally voice from behind me.
I glanced to the half sized elf, taking in the long ears, pasty-grey skin, and coarse clothes of linen. Odd, this creature was an elf. I would have thought them to be, sweet, fine looking or even elegant. This nimble creature was more like a rat crossed with a tiny troll. Its large lamp eyes stared, waiting for an answer. I stood, wiping my hands on my apron.
“So that’s it right. No more punishment.”
“It appears so.” The elf clicked his fingers and as magic goes, he and the cleaning supplies disappeared.
Hu. No goodbye? I shrugged and headed to my room. Freedom at last. Now to convince Karson that I can at least have sometime to myself over the holidays. First, it was for a shower, and then bed.
