Dragons have been all but eradicated from the Middle Kingdom since the battle at Hamath Valley in 1130 of the Common Era. However, in the interest of compiling the most complete compendium on reptiles within the Middle Kingdom, we have included a brief reference to them.
The term dragon denotes an entire family of species, each a very distinguishable and separate creature with its own several traits, abilities, and varied intelligences. There are entire chronicles dedicated to their study, the most complete set of which can be found in the library of Valtuu Temple. For our purposes, it is enough to know that they come from The Ancients, seven progenitors of the dragon kind that inhabit most parts of Terramyr.
Within the Middle Kingdom, they were once a fair and wondrous race of beings. The Ancients are credited with founding Drakei Glazei, the Middle Kingdom’s capitol, as well as Roegudok Hall, the mountain that houses the dwarf kingdom. However, they turned evil and chaotic. Many of the lesser dragons and drakes began to prey upon mankind, and any other animate creature small enough to be swallowed or chewed. For the last several hundred years, they have been hunted nearly to extinction within the Middle Kingdom, and a fair number of dragon slayers have ventured beyond the Middle Kingdom as well to take the fight to the winged demons. It should be noted that this is to the great lament of those priests who still devoutly, albeit naivly, follow the old traditions of pseudo dragon worship.
Should you ever come across a dragon’s egg, you would recognize it by its enormous size. There is no other beast that could lay such a large egg. If this should happen, destroy the egg. Do not let the demon within see the light of day, for if you were ever to find yourself in a dragon’s shadow, they would show you no mercy.
Kyra flipped the page, but there was no more information. She glanced at the egg and a wave of fear washed over her. The hairs on her neck stood on end and she looked up to the sky when the hillside was darkened by a large cloud. Then she looked back to the egg and the fear left her. She knew there was a dragon inside. Yet, despite what the book said, she felt no fear of the egg.
Who was to say that the hatchling would be as ruthless as the text presented it?
If Kyra was to listen to what others deemed appropriate, then she would accept her betrothal as her destiny. She smiled then, finding great parallels between herself and the egg. Not only were both of them full of potential danger, but they also both had society deciding their fates for them. She was doomed to marry and live the life of a noblewoman, while the hatchling was condemned to die. Both had been judged, and both had their worth assessed, yet neither were understood.
“I will not destroy you,” Kyra promised the egg.
The little guardian lizard chirped loudly and then dropped down into its hole.
Kyra looked at the other two books she had brought. One of them, a treatise on the care of large monitor lizards, was entirely useless, but the other made her smile. She opened the cover and rubbed her hand out over the first page. She had read the book several times since her mother had let her take it from her father’s library. Now she intended to read it to the egg.
“You will like this story,” she told the egg. “It is about a mighty dragon who also faced great challenges. He wasn’t hunted by humans, like you would be, but he had his own trials. The dragon in this story is named Gorliad, and he lived in a place far from here. This book comes from a set in my father’s library. It is entitled The Dragons of Kendualdern. This volume is my favorite from the set. It’s called Ascension.”
Kyra cleared her throat and began to read aloud. She spent the remainder of the day reading to the egg and sitting next to it. Guardian, the little lizard, even came up from his hole to sit in her lap while she read, in between chasing grasshoppers that is. She read until the sun hung low in the sky, forgoing lunch altogether and losing herself in the book. Only when the first several blue stars of night poked through the sky did she prepare to leave for the night.
She cast the warming spell again, careful to hide the egg with rocks, and then returned to the academy.
When she arrived back at the academy, she spied Janik in the dining hall, taking his evening meal. He waved at her and motioned for her to join him.
She hesitated, just for an instant, as if something in the back of her mind was trying to pull her in another direction. She shrugged it off, reasoning that it was likely just her apprehension about Janik’s brother holding her back. Kyra moved toward the table and a few moments later one of the cooks set a brown clay bowl filled with tomato soup in front of her with a side of toast.
“Thank you,” Kyra offered.
The cook smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen.
“You were gone a long time today,” Janik noted. “Off in the forest again?”
Kyra plunged her spoon into the soup and was quick to place the spoonful into her mouth. Luckily, it wasn’t so hot that it burned her tongue. It did, however, waken her stomach to the realization that she had only eaten upon waking that day. Her stomach let out a terribly embarrassing growl and she hastily took a bite of toast.
“Hungry, I see,” Janik probed. He offered a half-smile and picked his own bowl up with his right hand and poured the soup into his mouth. Then he set it down and wiped the excess from the corners of his mouth. “There isn’t anyone else around to see if you wish to eat without the proper manners,” Janik said. “I do it all the time. If I always adhered to proper table etiquette, I would likely never finish.” He raised his crooked left wrist and waggled it at his bowl. “I was left-handed before this happened. It’s still hard to do things with my right hand.”
“I am sorry,” Kyra offered. She looked at his hand, bent over permanently at the wrist and all red and purple in color. Even now it looked painful, as though it had only occurred a few days before.
Janik smiled. “The pain is gone now,” he said. “Mostly.”
Kyra shot him a puzzled look.
Janik shrugged. “It aches after a day’s work, or sometimes when it’s cold, or even just at night.”
“So it hurts almost all the time, then,” Kyra surmised.
Janik paused and then he chuckled with a nod. “I suppose you are right.” He slipped his right hand around a goblet and pulled it up toward his mouth. “So what is in the forest?” he asked just before the drink touched his lips.
Kyra blushed. “I just like to be alone.”
“Can I see the books?” Janik asked as he set the goblet down and gestured with his chin toward the small satchel. He didn’t wait for an answer. Kyra had already set the satchel beside her on the bench, so he had free access to it. She started to move, wanting to stop him, but then she thought that might make it appear even more suspicious, so she stopped.
Janik pulled them out and set them on the table. He mumbled aloud as he perused the titles. “Research?” he asked.
Kyra nodded. That was close enough to the truth.
“So why the sudden interest in dragons?” Janik pressed.
Kyra’s heart stopped. She hadn’t expected him to be able to decipher the title from her father’s library.
Janik smiled and slid the books back into the satchel and placed them next to her on the bench. “Don’t worry, your hobby is safe with me,” he assured her. “I mean, it isn’t like you found a dragon out hiding in the woods, right?” Janik laughed and reached for his drink.
Kyra laughed nervously and nodded, hoping that he wouldn’t see the fear in her face. She flicked her eyes down to her soup and took the bowl in both hands. She raised it up and drained it before she set it down again.
“Atta girl,” Janik said. “No reason for pomp between friends. Eat to your heart’s content.” He pointed a finger at her. “Though, the next time you go out for a day, try taking something with you. It is good to feed the mind, but you mustn’t forget the body.”
Kyra nodded. “I’ll do that.” She stretched her lips into a forced grin and then set the bowl down. “I think I will go off to bed now,” she said. She was
far too uncomfortable with Janik’s questions to remain there with him.
If Janik suspected anything, he didn’t show it. He simply finished his drink and then nodded. “Sleep well,” he said. “Oh, and if you are going to stop by the library on the way to your room, there is an interesting section on dragons.”
“Yes, the manuals written by the dragon slayers,” Kyra said. “I was thinking about reading those.”
Janik waved his right hand in front of his face and flashed a sour grimace. “No, no, not those books. The dragon slayers are idiots. They only know how to kill a dragon. Their study of a dragon’s anatomy is noteworthy, but it is always slanted toward understanding only how to kill them. There are far more interesting texts for those with a scholarly mind, like yourself.”
Kyra paused. She wasn’t aware of any other books on the subject. Had she been, she would have taken them already. “Where are they?” she asked.
Janik smiled. “Go to the third floor, and wind your way to section seven, in the back. You will find shelves of books there on the subject. Everything from identifying their eggs to predicting dragon type and all the way down to the companion lizards that are usually found in the nests.”
Kyra’s eyes went wide and her breath caught in her throat. “Companion lizards?” she asked.
Janik nodded. “I think we call them ‘beardies’ or ‘bearded dragons’ though they are neither dragons nor bearded. They are curious little lizards that hang around the nest of dragons. They sound alarms with a hiss, or sometimes a chirp. It is very quiet, but loud enough for a mother dragon to hear. In return, they are allowed to live in the nest and enjoy the protection of a much larger beast. At least, that’s what some people say. I never saw it myself.”
“Have you seen a dragon nest then?” Kyra pressed.
Janik nodded. “A couple, actually,” he said. “Before the accident with my arm and leg, I went on several excursions south of Ten Forts. Mostly we were contracted to fight the orcs that ventured too close to the walls, but we still stumbled into a couple of nests. Most of them were smaller drakes, mind you, but there was one that had laid three eggs. Each one of them were half as tall as me and they were thick as barrels.”
“What did you do?” Kyra asked.
Janik shot her a puzzled look. “Why, we hacked them to pieces of course. Tracked and killed the mother too, though it cost several good men.” Janik sighed and his eyes went distant, as if looking into the past. “For sure, that was a bloody day. I had never been so scared in all my life as I was that day.” His eyes refocused in the present and turned to her. “If you ever see a dragon, you run. You don’t stay still and you don’t freeze up in fear. You run. You hear me, Kyra?”
The young lady was disgusted by the thought of men hacking into unhatched eggs and destroying the life inside. Still, she could see the fear clearly painted on his features as he recalled the encounter with the dragon. She nodded and then turned to find the library.
Soon she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the shelf Janik had described for her. A pile of books was neatly stacked on her left that stretched from the floor to her shoulder. She took the first off the pile and began to absorb the information inside as her eyes scanned the pages.
Within minutes she felt her heart skip as she found an egg that looked exactly like the one in the rocks. The words next to the sketch described the same color and size. It even went so far as to describe nests of rock often used when food was scarce, because the mother could heat the rocks with her breath and they would remain warm until her return as she hunted far away from the egg.
That’s when it hit her. The egg was alone. It had its miniature companion of course, but the rocks had been cold when Kyra had arrived and found it. They were warm when she went back this morning, but not as warm as when she had placed the warming spell. That surely must mean that no dragon came back in the interim period to warm the egg. For a moment, she wondered if the egg was dead, left long ago and perhaps rotting.
No, that wasn’t it. She had been out in her father’s chicken pens enough times to know what a rotten egg smelled like. There was no stench from the dragon egg.
Besides that, the little companion was still alert and active nearby.
Kyra put her nose back into the book and flipped through the pages, looking for any mention of companion animals. It wasn’t until she was half-way through the book that she finally found it. A small drawing of a juvenile pagona just above and to the right of a drawing of an adult. The description said that adults could reach roughly two feet in length from tip of the tail to the end of the snout. They were light, agile creatures that hunted bugs, mice, and also fed upon plants.
“There is no mention of these small creatures ever playing the part of nursery keeper on Kendualdern, but here on Terramyr, it is not an uncommon sight,” she read aloud. Kyra smiled and thought of the book her mother had given her. Was Gorliad’s story real? If it wasn’t, then why would it be mentioned in texts that discussed facts about dragons?
Now that she was certain of what was hiding in the rocks, she was ready for sleep. She would have a long day tomorrow, trying to find the right way to ensure the egg’s safety. She gathered the books and trudged off to bed, thinking all the while what it must have been like to live on Kendualdern, a world ruled by dragons, and not by men.
*****
“That was an interesting conversation,” a voice called out from nothingness.
Janik glanced around the dining hall before nodding. “What do you make of it?” Janik asked.
The spell concealing Cyrus disappeared and the old wizard sat in front of Janik. He reached out a hand and took the goblet, filling it with wine by merely snapping his fingers. “Our young friend has found a dragon, dear Janik.”
Janik’s eyes went wide. “Surely you must be joking. A dragon would swallow her whole.”
Cyrus shook his head. “I took notice of a she-dragon making her way to the south. She stopped off in the forest near where Kyra goes. I would wager my left leg that she found an egg.” The wizard cast a frowning glance through the table toward Janik’s leg. “No offense, of course.”
Janik reflexively rubbed his crooked wrist over his left leg. “Of course not,” he said half-sincerely. He had often wondered why the wizard wouldn’t restore him fully, but the question was moot. He knew the reason already. If Janik were whole, he would be a threat. As a cripple, even one given access to magic, he was easily controlled. It was his handicap, more than the oath, that bound him to Cyrus. “So if there is an egg, we should destroy it,” Janik said decisively.
Cyrus took a long draught of the wine and then savored it in his mouth before swallowing. “I don’t see why,” he said finally. Cyrus set the goblet down and pointed to Janik’s bowl. Janik pressed the clay bowl toward Cyrus. A moment later there was a roasted quail nestled among sautéed onions and boiled potatoes topped with chives.
“I should like to learn such spells,” Janik said.
Cyrus sneered. “Cooking, even with magic, takes a delicate touch. It is not something easily done with a heavy hand.”
Janik sighed and worked the top of the table with his thumbnail, digging into a crack as he stared away from the wizard. “What do we do with the egg?” he inquired.
“Help her,” Cyrus said. “It is obvious that the girl wants to see it hatch.”
“Harboring a dragon is a grave offense,” Janik reminded him.
Cyrus nodded and swallowed a half-chewed bite of quail. “Do you see a better way to ingratiate yourself with her? The charm I gave you has no power over her, you said so yourself. Do this, and you just might gain her trust.”
“What if the dragon turns on her?” Janik pressed.
Cyrus held up a finger. “Not if, but when.” Cyrus took another bite and forced Janik to wait while he chewed it thoroughly and then washed it down with another swig of wine. “As soon as the dragon emerges from its shell, it will fall prey to Nagar’s Blight. You have heard
of this, yes?”
Janik shook his head.
Cyrus sighed and threw his hands up dismissively. “Of course not,” he mumbled. “Swordsmen aren’t much for reading, I suppose.”
Janik exhaled impatiently and tore a piece of wood from the table with his thumbnail. “Just get to the point.”
Cyrus arched a brow, as if to remind Janik who held the power. The warrior-turned-janitor didn’t back down. He stared back at Cyrus’ blue eyes and waited for the answer.
“Nagar was a powerful wizard, he fought alongside Tu’luh the Red in Hamath Valley. The two of them devised a powerful magic that could capture the very heart and soul of any living creature.”
Janik remembered the history now. “Ah, that Nagar,” he said. “Yes, I know of that magic, but what does that have to do with the hatchling?”
“Allun Rha didn’t destroy Nagar’s spell, he only crippled it. After the battle in Hamath Valley, the priests of Valtuu Temple seized the magic written down in a book called Nagar’s Secret. What they didn’t know, and couldn’t have foreseen, was that the book itself is a powerful artifact. Any dragon within the bounds of the Middle Kingdom is doomed by its power so long as the book remains in existence. It doesn’t work instantaneously, mind you, it has to wear down the individual dragon’s willpower. Sometimes that is a relatively quick affair, taking perhaps a few weeks, while other times it can take years. There is no way of knowing when it will conquer a dragon, but it is certain that as long as the book remains, all dragons within the Middle Kingdom will fall victim to its powers.”
“I have been an instructor here, and I have been assigned to units of dragon slayers, why haven’t I heard this part before?” Janik asked. “The only thing we hear from the Battle of Hamath Valley is that Allun Rha stopped the curse and broke its power. Even the priests at Valtuu Temple hold to that fact.”
Cyrus held a finger in the air. “It is a containment issue. Imagine the panic that would flood the land if the common folk all knew that the battle that supposedly won them peace really only bought them a semblance of peace for a limited amount of time.” The wizard shook his head. “It is better to appease the simple folk with stories of heroism and derring do than to show them the full truth in all its ugly and dangerous horror.”
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