by Peter Last
“Not too bad,” Josiah told himself. He glanced at the other cadets' targets and saw that half of the javelins hadn’t even reached them. Of the ones that had flown far enough, all but two had hit their targets, mostly on the outer edges. The call to retrieve the javelins was given, and the cadets advanced down the range, chattering as they went.
“Nice shot, Josiah,” called the cadet who was two stations to Josiah’s left.
“Thanks, Cirro,” Josiah responded, “but it really wasn’t all that good. It barely hit the target at all.”
“At least it made it far enough,” Cirro said. “Mine was way too short, probably by fifteen feet.”
Josiah shrugged and walked the rest of the way to his target. The javelin was more than four inches from the nearest edge and had hit with enough force to sink in at least six inches. Josiah braced his foot on the target, grabbed the shaft of his spear, and pulled the weapon from where it had lodged. Shifting his grip to the middle of the javelin, he rested it on his shoulder. He quickly walked back to the line that he had thrown from and spun around, ready to throw again.
“That’s it for today,” the instructor called to his students. All the cadets shifted their spears onto their shoulders and began to make their way to the northwest corner of the range. There a small door cut a hole through the hedge that ran all the way around the practice field. The cadets left in a single file line and made their way to the northeast corner of the hedge where the armory was located. Josiah waited patiently as the line crawled along at a snail’s pace. When he finally reached the armory, he entered the building, put his spear on the rack, and went back outside to wait for Cirro.
Half a minute later, Cirro came out of the armory, and he and Josiah began to cross the city that was their campus. The fifteen minute walk back to the barracks took them past massive buildings with extraordinary architecture. Huge flights of stairs and pillars guarded the doors of the buildings, and large statues graced the lawns. At the north end of the campus, a wall stretched across a pass in a mountain range. The only break in the wall was a massive gate that opened onto a vast plain. The gate was currently shut against attacks from the soldiers of Molkekk.
Josiah shuddered even as he thought of the name. Molkekk was the ancient enemy of the men of Magessa. He had opposed Magessa because they worshiped Elohim, the creator and ruler of the world and all that was in it. Legends portrayed Molkekk as any of the original six races that inhabited Magessa and the surrounding lands. But on one thing they all agreed—Molkekk had allied himself with Oglemophin, a fallen angel that had once had the duty of leading the worship of Elohim. Oglemophin had become jealous of Elohim and sought to take away his throne. A bitter fight had followed. One-third of the angels followed Oglemophin, but they were defeated by those that remained faithful. In the end, they were thrown out of heaven.
Oglemophin took up residence in Hades, the fiery underworld, and from there assaulted the earth, trying to turn the races away from Elohim. After a damning covenant, Molkekk received his magical abilities from Oglemophin’s extensive power. Even with his new might, Molkekk knew that he would have difficulty destroying Magessa and waited patiently, gathering more strength. Finally considering himself strong enough, he had waged war against Magessa only to be thwarted by a magician named Jothnial.
Jothnial was a young elf with a long life ahead of him, but he chose to give it up to defeat Molkekk. Just two years ago he had led an army of magicians to Molkekk’s headquarters to confront the sorcerer face to face. The final confrontation took place in the door of Molkekk’s base, a tower in the city of Volexa Temp. The battle was bitter, and according to the stories, had lasted for three days. At long last, Jothnial gained the upper hand and dealt Molkekk a fatal blow. As he turned away from his foe, Molkekk rose and delivered a strike to his back. Jothnial fell and died there along with the evil wizard.
Molkekk's body died from the wounds sustained in the fight, and in order to survive, he was forced to convert himself into a spirit and bind his powers to the tower that was his headquarters. Though his power was greatly stunted, Molkekk was still able to fulfill his wishes by taking control of the inhabitants of the surrounding lands. He also created a new race called the goblins, which had no will of their own, but were instead an extension of his consciousness. Since his defeat and confinement to his tower, he had lain dormant; nevertheless, the northern gate of Saddun was always guarded against his inevitable attack.
In contrast to the large, magnificent city gate, the barracks looked out of place. The building was only one story tall and about five hundred yards long. This one building was actually composed of a score of smaller ones all connected together and could house one thousand cadets, though it remained empty for most of the day.
“So what’s with all the activity around campus?” Cirro asked Josiah as they walked.
“They’re trying to make it look better—more presentable,” Josiah responded. “You’ve been here less than a year so you don’t know this, but every year the academy in Belvárd sends some of their students over here to visit. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it’s supposed to build unity in the army or something. Anyway, the people in authority around here find it necessary to make our campus look as nice as possible.”
“So that’s what’s up,” Cirro exclaimed. “Yesterday I had an altercation with a teacher and got put on a painting detail as punishment. We put new coats of paint on a dozen buildings. Now they look as good as new. You’d think the counsel was coming to visit from all the things that are happening.”
“Which means that you had better be on extra good behavior,” Josiah said. “If they catch you doing anything out of line, you’ll probably be planting flowers along twenty miles of road or something like that.”
“Yeah, not exactly something I want to do,” Cirro responded, “especially not in this heat.”
Josiah and Cirro entered the barracks and were immediately assaulted by the strong stench of body odor. It wasn’t because the building had an inadequate ventilation system; there was just no way to decrease the smell of one thousand sweating men. Already the lunch bell was ringing, so Josiah and Cirro quickly changed into new clothes and headed for the mess hall.
The dining facility was crammed past its capacity as usual, but Josiah and Cirro had little trouble getting to their table. They sat down and began to ravenously devour their meal.
“There's never enough food at this place,” Josiah grumbled to Cirro. “It’s a wonder we haven’t starved yet on these rations.”
The hall was suddenly plunged into silence, and Josiah looked up to see what had caused it. A high-ranking instructor was standing on a table at the front of the hall and holding up his hands for silence. As soon as he got it, he began to speak.
“Thank you,” he said. “I have an announcement. The time has come for the annual academy get-together. For those of you who are new here, that means that some of the cadets from the academy in Belvárd are coming to visit our campus in the next few days. As such, you are expected to be on your best behavior while they are here. Also, all of the cadets will be expected to help make our campus presentable. You will be assigned by companies to do different tasks; you will hear about that from your company leader.”
“What does that mean?” Cirro asked after the instructor had gotten off the table.
“Exactly what he said,” Josiah replied. Then he smirked and added, “Also, since we’re having company, we’ll be getting better meals.”
“Well, you’re the barracks leader; so what assignments do we have?” Cirro asked.
Josiah shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything about them yet, though I’ll probably find out pretty soon.”
“This’ll be fun,” Cirro said sarcastically. “I always thought that I’d end up planting twenty miles of flowers, but I figured that it would be for something bad that I’d done.”
“It’s your dream to plant twenty miles of flowers?” Josiah asked as he rose from his seat. “I’ll be sure
that no one else steals that job from you.”
******
The mess hall bustled with activity as those who had finished their meal left and those who were on KP cleaned up. Senndra sidestepped two of the cadets headed to the kitchen with massive stacks of dishes. She trotted across an open area and squeezed past two other cadets who were talking. She pushed her way out the mess hall doors and glanced around. Rita was nowhere in sight. Senndra figured that she would be in their dorm room since there were no classes for two hours after lunch and the morning classes always tired Rita out. She chose the correct path and headed toward her dorm. She made her way into the building and ascended the stairs to the second floor. As she reached her floor, she could tell immediately that something was out of the ordinary. Two guards stood by the door as though waiting for her. As she got closer, she was able to make out the design on their breastplates—a fire-breathing dragon.
“Senndra Felling?” one of the guards asked as she came to a stop at her door.
“Yes, what is it?” Senndra responded.
“Good news from the hatchery,” the same guard answered. “Your dragon has hatched. We have been sent to escort you there.”
“Very well,” Senndra said. She kept her face emotionless, but inside she was ecstatic. “I need to grab some things from my room, but I’ll be out in a second.”
She entered the room and headed straight for the bunks. Rita was sleeping on the bottom one, so Senndra made sure not to disturb her as she retrieved her sword from the top bunk. She strapped it onto her left hip, grabbed her cloak from off the back of a chair, and left the room. She followed her two escorts down the hall and the stairs, and back outside. They took the same path Senndra had traveled only minutes before and walked at such a fast pace that Senndra had trouble keeping up. Soon they reached the mess hall and took another path that led toward the top of the mountain. The way grew steeper, and Senndra was panting before long. The guards’ pace slowed down as they progressed; however, Senndra still had trouble matching their speed. After a long, grueling climb, the hatchery finally came into view.
Senndra followed the guards through the doors of the hatchery. One of them stayed with her while the other left. Senndra did her best to keep a calm look on her face and not make her panting too obvious. Gradually, her breathing slowed to normal and she was able to look around. The room was entirely empty, with no furniture at all. In contrast, the walls were covered with paintings, some of dragons and others of different military settings. Senndra was about to walk over to the wall to better examine the paintings when the guard who had left returned. Following him was a small woman with white hair. She wore a green, loose-fitting dress that had many pockets in it. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the guards.
“Senndra,” she said when the guards left the room, “my name is Miss Farley. I am the superintendent of the hatchery. You have already been told by your escorts why you are here, so if you will follow me, I will take you to your dragon.”
Miss Farley turned and walked back down the hallway she had emerged from only minutes ago with the guard. Senndra followed her to another large room. This one had chairs in it and a receptionist on the far side. Miss Farley crossed the room, unlocked a door with a long, bronze key, and entered another hallway. Senndra followed her to another door that was opened by a different key which Miss Farley drew from one of her pockets. The door opened to the top of a flight of stairs, and Miss Farley descended them with Senndra close behind. The stairs were almost pitch black, and emptied out into a dimly lit room. As Senndra’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, the details of the room slowly became clear. It was very long and narrow with small alcoves covering the walls. Miss Farley was already walking across the room, and Senndra ran to catch up.
“Now I must ask you something,” Miss Farley said after stopping in front of an alcove. “You do know what colors dragons can be, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Senndra responded immediately. “Dragons are most commonly red, orange, green, blue, silver, and black, though they can be any color.”
“Do you know the significance of the different colors?” Miss Farley questioned.
“With one exception, the color of a dragon has no effect on its abilities,” Senndra answered. “A black dragon, however, has increased abilities. Their scales are tougher, their claws are sharper, and their fire is hotter. As you know, black dragons are a result of Molkekk's attempt to mutate dragons to form a better and more loyal army. The mutations were only marginally effective; the black dragon’s abilities were enhanced, but not enough to give them a distinct advantage over other dragons. Also, the mutation did not increase loyalty to Molkekk whatsoever. Of course, the side effect of the mutation was that the dragons scales turned black, a trait that they pass onto their offspring.”
“This, of course, is a bit of an anomaly,” Miss Farley said, “since there is no known factor that determines the color of a dragon. The black dragons are the only color that will have children the same color as the parents one hundred percent of the time. “You were correct in stating the colors of dragons, Senndra, but your situation is rather unique. You see, the color of your dragon has not been seen for over five hundred years. It is not a mutant as the black dragons are, but a natural variety; however, it is different from other dragons.”
“What do you mean?” Senndra asked with a puzzled tone in her voice.
“Your dragon’s color is mud brown, a color only seen once before. As I mentioned earlier, that sighting was over five hundred years ago. The dragon was killed in the Battle of Fire Water Marsh before he was fully developed. In that time, he differed from other dragons in the fact that he had no scales but only tough skin and that he could not breathe fire, only very hot air. The one normal characteristic was the length and sharpness of his claws. It is difficult to tell at this time, but it appears as though your dragon has these same characteristics. Because of these disabilities, you will have to take special care of him. Also when you begin to fight, you will have to make sure that he does not become over-confident.”
Senndra was speechless and could only watch in silence as Miss Farley stepped to the side, giving Senndra a line of sight into the alcove. The little dragon inside raised his head and looked at Senndra with tiny eyes. In that moment, Senndra knew that she had fallen in love with the little creature.
******
“You ready to fight, Josiah?”
“Go away, Cirro,” Josiah said without even opening his eyes. “I don’t want to do anything right now except sleep.”
“Come on. It’s been an hour since lunch,” Cirro said. “Besides, if you don’t exercise, you’ll get fat.”
“When I get fat, I’ll come to you for help,” Josiah answered. He swung his feet over the side of his bunk and dropped to the floor. Except for an empty bunk here and there, the entire barracks was filled with sleeping cadets. “I guess at least the training field will be empty,” Josiah grunted.
“Exactly,” Cirro said.
The two friends walked outside and crossed the campus to the training field. Josiah was still not completely awake when they entered the building by the field to retrieve their weapons. With clumsy moves, Josiah pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked his locker. He reached inside and withdrew a sword and scabbard. He slipped the sword belt around his waist, buckled it, then closed and relocked the door of his locker. He walked to the door of the building, but before stepping out into the open, dunked his head in a basin of water standing there. The water was hot, but it still woke him up a little more. He wiped his face on his sleeve and stepped outside.
Cirro was in the middle of the field swinging his sword in several defensive and offensive maneuvers. Josiah gripped the hilt of his sword and pulled it out of the scabbard. The sound of metal on metal jolted him completely awake. He held the weapon in a defensive position and watched Cirro carefully. The two combatants circled each other slowly, drawing closer with each step. When they were finally within s
triking distance, Josiah struck without hesitation. Cirro jerked his sword down to block the blow then snapped it up in a strike at Josiah. Josiah stepped back, letting the sword whistle by in front of him, then he stepped up to attack.
The two friends continued to exchange blows, using standard attacks and defenses they had been taught. They always did this, remembering their lessons and warming up before the real fight. This was the ultimate competition, coming as close to fighting to the death as possible without actually hurting anyone. Not that it was likely that a fatal injury would occur with the blunted practice weapons, but the heavy metal blades could still do damage. Josiah had a nasty scar on the knuckles of his right hand that attested to the fact.
After about fifteen minutes, the feel of the fight changed. As if on unspoken consensus, the fight had begun in earnest. Cirro led with a jab aimed at Josiah’s shoulder. Josiah moved his sword up to block the swipe, but Cirro jerked his sword down in a slash at the back of Josiah’s knees. Josiah lunged forward and planted his shoulder in Cirro’s chest, taking him to the ground. He rolled off of his fallen opponent, jumped to his feet, and spun around. Cirro was still on the ground, so Josiah dashed toward him and tried to place his sword’s point at Cirro’s neck. Cirro spun around and raised his foot, blocking Josiah’s blade with his boot. He rolled backwards, grabbed his sword from the ground, and rose to his feet. Josiah leaped toward Cirro with his sword extended, but Cirro had more than enough time to react. Instead of blocking the blow, he simply let it slide off his blade. As Josiah’s momentum brought him past Cirro, Cirro brought the hilt of his sword around and slammed it into the side of Josiah’s head. The blow stunned Josiah and knocked him to the ground.
