Glimpses

by Vincent Trigili

  “It could have been, but we don’t know what happened to them after that,” I said. In reality, I figured they probably didn’t learn anything and went on to cause more trouble. “But that wasn’t the end of Lyrroth’s troubles that day…”

  ***

  We circled above the supply ships while they got back in formation and set sail for the harbor. The three undamaged pirate ships picked up what was left of the other crews and made haste to get out of the area. Everything seemed calm, but I was on edge. Something wasn’t right.

  “Keep alert and‌—‌” I started, but before I could finish, there was a loud roar, and something large and green slammed into the back of Rhenvaar.

  As they tumbled out of the air, I saw what had hit him. “Feral dragon!” I roared. That wasn’t good. When a dragon lost his dragonmaster, it was like they lost all sense of reason and became pure predators. They destroyed anything in their path until they were either put down, or they finally succumbed to hunger. All they did was destroy, rarely, if ever, stopping to eat.

  Barioth and I were powerless to help as they twisted and turned, falling from the sky. They raked each other with great claws, and it was impossible to tell who was winning. The pair of them crashed into the sea among the still-flaming boats, spraying water in every direction, but they fought on.

  The violent tumbling and fighting in the water created massive waves that threatened to capsize the already damaged pirate ships. If there were any crew left in the water, there was no way they could survive the maelstrom being created as the two dragons wrestled.

  Hot dragon blood spilled into the ocean in great quantities and created massive clouds of steam, further obscuring the battle. There was far too much blood being spilled, and it wasn’t looking good for Rhenvaar.

  I wanted to dive in and help, but there was no way to get in without risking attacking Rhenvaar. Barioth and I circled, watching for an opening, but none presented itself. I watched helplessly as the battling dragons roared in frustration. The green dragon had gotten the jump on Rhenvaar, and they were in the water; that meant he had all the advantages.

  My fears were soon realized as the green dragon burst from the water and Rhenvaar and his master slowly sank into the darkness. Inseparable in life, and inseparable in death. Before I could react, Barioth roared and dove straight at the green beast, breathing fire as he went.

  Dragon skin isn’t vulnerable to fire, but a face full of fire would temporally blind, and Barioth used that to cover a fast course change to come around behind the green dragon.

  The green dragon was no youngling and was ready for the move, and at the last moment, he rolled over and raked with his claws.

  Barioth was ready for the counter and rolled with him, slashing at his side.

  The beast howled with anger and twisted violently, sending his tail slamming into the side of Barioth’s face, knocking him back.

  I saw an opening and dove with the speed that only a black dragon can reach, raking my claws across its back as I went by. I twisted into a tight spiral to come around for another pass, but Barioth was already on him.

  The green dragon spun into Barioth’s attack, biting hard into his neck as Barioth tried to pull back. I watched in horror as Barioth’s move caused the green dragon’s mouth to rip away a chunk of Barioth’s neck. Red-hot dragon blood flowed freely, and Barioth fell from the sky into the sea.

  The green dragon turned and came for me next, but I was faster and more nimble. I dove under his attack, raking at his belly as he went by. Hot blood flowed freely from the wounds, but they were not deep enough to slow him down. He tried to turn back on me, but he was too large and slow for that maneuver. I followed him through and came around for another strike.

  He dove into the ocean to avoid me, and I pulled up just before hitting the water. As a black dragon, I was faster and more nimble in the air than a green dragon, but if I followed him into the water, his superior size and strength would easily carry the day. I pulled back into the air, putting distance between myself and the ocean. I knew he would burst out without warning and I wanted sufficient space to react.

  My anger at his attack and the deaths of my friends boiled inside of me, but I forced myself to wait for him to come out. The feral dragon was insane; half of his identity had been lost when he lost his dragonmaster. That insanity would force him out of the water and back into the sky to get me. I just had to wait.

  I didn’t have to wait long. With a great roar, he shot out of the water straight towards me. I waited for him in the air as he rushed at me, and then I took off, baiting him higher and higher. I had to move the fight away from the supply ships.

  Once I broke through the cloud layer, I doubled back, and as he came through the clouds, I was there with my claws extended. He tried to turn back, just as I expected, and that exposed his chest. I ripped and tore through the thick scales there.

  He wasn’t through yet. Now that I had closed the distance, he kicked hard with his back legs, sending me tumbling back through the clouds and towards the sea again.

  I bent and twisted until my body was reoriented correctly to stretch out my wings. I quickly changed directions and came back around. The green dragon tried to match my speed and turn, but swung wide, allowing me to get behind and above him.

  I knew I could just outfly him and get away, but that would leave the supply convoy at his mercy, and he would surely kill again. No, I had to put him down now while I still could.

  He was bleeding from a dozen or more wounds now, but it didn’t seem to slow him down one bit. For my part, I was feeling the toll the fight was taking on my well-aged bones.

  Again I dove for him with all the speed I could muster, and this time I caught him unawares. All four of my clawed feet hit his back, and I raked hard as I leapt off his back into the air, leaving deep gouges in his back.

  He roared in pain, but didn’t yield. He turned back towards me and tried to get inside my turn to cut me off, but I changed direction and came around behind him again.

  I had to hit something vital and put an end to this fight before he got a lucky blow in like he had with Barioth. I dove again at his back and again raked through, digging for his spine or a vital organ of some kind, but he twisted away, preventing me from landing a solid blow.

  I pulled away from him and watched as he struggled to right himself in the air and regain some speed. I had won, and any sane dragon would have beat a hasty retreat. But this one was feral. It didn’t know to retreat; it only knew to destroy.

  He found enough strength for another charge and came at me with all the speed he could muster, but I was above him. I had superior position and speed. I dove towards him, right into his charge. At the last possible moment, I broke to the left, slashing at his throat as I went by. This time I scored a vital hit and ripped open his jugular.

  I swung away as he tumbled into the sea, the blood from his many wounds boiling the water around him. I watched to make sure he was done. I wondered what had happened to his rider. With so few dragons, and so many dragonmasters, it was even more shameful to see one go down. He should have been matched to a new rider long before he succumbed to the madness.

  With deep sadness at his plight, I flew off to check on my friends, but neither of them had made it. Two dragonmasters and three dragons, lost forever. It was yet another dark day for dragonkind.

  The end of the age of dragons was at hand, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

  ***

  I sighed and held back the tears that this story always brought on. I wished I’d been alive to see the dragons. They must have been something to see up close.

  “But what happened next?” asked Silverleaf.

  “No one knows for sure,” I answered. It wasn’t the truth, but there were secrets that these children didn’t need to be burdened with. “David and Lyrroth flew off that day and weren’t seen again anywhere in the kingdoms. The other dragons eventually died off, and now all that remain are the stor
ies.”

  “And the unfortunate dragonmasters,” said Tamerale.

  “Yes,” I said. Dragonmasters are still born to every generation, but without dragons to be bound to, they also go feral eventually. Just like the green dragon in the story. Most times, they retreat into the wilds and are never seen again, but a few lose control in a populated area, and that always results in a violent end to their short lives.

  “Is there really no hope for them?” asked Silverleaf.

  “None has been found yet,” I said.

  “It’s not fair. I’ll find a way to make it right,” said Silverleaf.

  The boy had a determination in his voice that was way beyond his years. I almost believed it could happen. He certainly at that moment thought it was true. I wanted to believe, but knew I would be long gone before he was old enough to work on that dream.

  Tamerale started to say something, but Nasir placed a hand on his shoulder to silence him. That was for the best, as it was probably some barb, and I didn’t want to see Silverleaf’s dream crushed by childish teasing.

  “I believe you could if you set your mind to it,” said Nasir.

  “I will, you’ll see!” said Silverleaf.

  Myrill called the children to her, and they went off to play and eat dessert, leaving me alone with Nasir. It was time to take care of business.

  Nasir was about to leave to help her, but I stopped him and said, “Come with me.”

  With my joints warmed some by the fire, it was slightly easier to walk, and I led him back to my room. Once inside, I barred the door and sat in one of my chairs. Nasir found a second chair and sat across from me. I was worn out from the exertion, but there was more to do yet.

  “The story doesn’t really end there,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “David truly was the last of the greats, the last real hero this world has seen. In his final years, he wanted to make sure the world never forgot the dragons and how we destroyed that noble race. David didn’t disappear. In fact, he became the first storymaster,” I said.

  “Really?” he said with surprise.

  “Yes, he wrote everything he knew on the scrolls, and we storymasters have kept and copied them throughout the generations, passing them down with great care so that nothing would be lost.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

  “Because you will succeed me as storymaster and you need to know the secrets,” I said.

  A look of shock passed over his face. He tried to stammer out words, but was speechless. He was so young to be a father, not even a third of my own age, but he was humble and sharp. He was a good man, and one I was proud to have in the family.

  “Don’t look so surprised. You’ve memorized most of the stories already, and you have the gift of insight,” I said.

  “But I’m not one of your descendants,” he said. “Don’t I have to be born into the family?”

  “Bah, as far as I’m concerned, you’re my grandson, and as the oldest living storymaster, I get to make the rules. I say that you’ll succeed me, and that is final,” I said.

  “I… I’m greatly honored,” he said.

  “Now, what you must know is that dragon blood runs strong through our family. It’s practically certain that some of those children running around out there will be dragonmasters,” I said.

  “Yes, Myrill warned me,” he said.

  “What she didn’t warn you about, because she doesn’t know, is that I’m a descendant of David, making your children part of his bloodline,” I said.

  “By the gods!” he gasped.

  “Yes, you married into royalty, but that’s not the real secret. We call that story ‘David’s Last Ride’ and tell everyone that David flew off, never to be seen again, in order to protect a great secret. David left a set of scrolls that no one has opened since his death. He left instructions that one day one of his descendants who is also a dragonmaster should open it, but only one who doesn’t go feral. So far, no one like that has risen up. The storymasters have kept these scrolls secret so that no one violates that order. They have kept a close watch on all of our kinfolk, hoping that each generation would be the generation that it would happen, but so far, nothing. These scrolls will pass from me to you, and you must guard them with your life,” I said.

  “But do we have any idea what they say?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. I paused and decided I’d better elaborate. “Oh, well, some think they tell of a second age of dragons, but I think that’s just wishful thinking. I don’t blame them. I often dream of what it would be like to fly with the dragons, but alas, that can’t happen this side of the grave.”

  I did more than not blame them; I wished they were right with all my heart, but I knew it was impossible. Dragons couldn’t just reappear out of nowhere. You needed mature dragons to make dragon babies.

  “I’ll keep them safe,” he said.

  There was a reverence in his voice that told me volumes. I had definitely chosen the best man to replace me.

  “You will find all my scrolls in a hidden chamber under my bed. Study them often, make copies of the oldest ones to preserve them, and find the other storymasters to crosscheck for errors. They’re our stories and must live on, no matter what may come.”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  “Good. Now please call my granddaughter, as my time is nearly done. I’d like to say goodbye properly while I still can,” I said.

  Concern passed over his face and he rushed out to get her. I slowly climbed into my bed. I’d had a good life, and I was ready for my eternal rest. I’d spent each day living the stories for the clan and had grown to really love some of the heroes of old. Soon I would join them on the other side, and it would be like meeting old friends.

  Many storymasters had gone before me, and I couldn’t wait to meet them. No one ever told their stories, and I wondered what they were like, what they struggled with and, most especially, which stories were their favorites.

  My granddaughter came flying into the room with tears already in her eyes. “Papa?”

  “My dear, don’t weep for me. I may have a season, perhaps even two more, and then I’m going to a better place, a place where the stories live. But now is the time to set things in order, while I still have my wits.”

  “We’ll miss you,” she said.

  “Only for a little while, and then we’ll meet again. Perhaps by then I’ll have learned how to ride a dragon. Look, my days are nearly spent and I want you to witness that I’m naming Nasir as my successor, and you both as heir to all that I have left.”

  She gasped. “But Papa…” her reply trailed off.

  By naming her husband as my successor, I’d done more than just ensure the stories were carried on. I’d made sure she was provided for. Nasir’s appointment guaranteed him an income for as long as he lived. She cared for me in life, and now I would care for her as I passed.

  I just smiled. “Now, please allow me to rest, and when the news spreads, please keep everyone at bay. I’d like to spend the last of my days teaching Nasir what I can.”

  THE JOURNAL OF THE INVESTIGATION OF ZYLYN’S WRITINGS

  DAY ONE: THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS

  SINCE ZYLYN’S DEATH, the task has fallen to me to dig through her notes, logs, journals, and other records in an attempt to reconstruct her knowledge. I am told this will be a daunting task because she amassed a very large quantity of data from her visions and did not have a discernable scheme for sorting or storing them. Some documents are completely illegible, and her spelling is lacking, as is normal for these deranged types. Most of her notes have no indication of the reliability or source of the information. Were they drug-induced dreams? Were they wisdom from beyond the realm boundary?

  Many have come to follow Zylyn’s teachings as completely reliable and make great claims about her knowledge. As I work through the data, I will attempt to prove her to be a great prophet, or show her to be a charlatan. To get the best
understanding of Zylyn, I will go through her images in the order we believe to most closely match the sequence in which she created them.

  Today, I will be looking at fourteen slides of images taken from her personal files. They appear to be images of her earliest notes, which lead me to assume they may be the least reliable. In order to keep the slides synchronized with this daily log, I will label each image with the day and number matching the sequence in which I address them.

  Image 001 appears to be a scrying table of some sort. The drawing shows a bowl of unknown size filled with a “mysterious liquid that allows images to appear.” The notes that came with this image seem to indicate she saw it in a dream:

  “I woke in a cold sweat. The vision of seven skeletal figures focusing intently on the image in this bowl chilled me to the core, for what they saw in the bowl was me sleeping in my cold, dark prison cell. They were watching me. They know who and what I am. They are coming for me.”

  She makes no indication as to who “they” are in this slide. Perhaps we will return to them in a later image. Also, it is unknown what she meant by “cold, dark prison cell.” She had a history of petty crime, but that was not until later in her life, much later than this image is likely from.

  Image 002 appears to be a staff, but we do not know to whom it belongs. She has a strong note on it that it belongs to the leader, but we do not know what this person might be the leader of. Based on the notes on the image, it appears to belong to some pyromancer who has somehow usurped control of a group from “purple,” but there is no indication of who purple refers to. This image had no accompanying textual note other than what is in the image, so I am left to guess. The leader of the Seven seemed to favor red, but he was a spellweaver and was definitely the strongest of the bunch, but maybe he also had an affinity to fire? That would be unheard of, but maybe the rules were different ten thousand years ago.