Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  “He attacked me, Knight Venneith,” the man Venneith had previously known as Amyth spoke truthfully. “He mistook my actions as robbing the dead when in truth I was doing as you asked. I read the deathletters you gave me and I retrieved all that they wished to be returned.”

  “You Narrovinians,” the bleeding man muttered. “I had no other alternative. Can you honestly blame me, my Knight? What was I supposed to think? Those thieving, conniving fiends are all the same.” This man spoke as if the the one concerned wasn’t present. “They’re good for nothing but to strap to the ram head of a warship.” He tried to push himself up but fell to his knees after crying out in pain from the sensation that burned through his leg. He spat on the ground, now speaking to the man he accused. “Robbing of the dead they fought alongside doesn’t reside above a single one of them, and I highly doubt you’re above it eith–”

  “Enough!” Venneith suddenly commanded.

  This scared Nerr, seeing his protector act out in such fury. So much so that he jumped back against a towering tree. Nerr turned to it and instinctively wrapped his claws around the barked surface, instantly finding just how easily his claws grasped the wooden texture the tree retained. He climbed his way up to the nearest branch before finding his perch. There he watched, eager but nervous and wary. Up here the world looked a bit different, and he found himself to be rather fond of the spot.

  “Phith,” Venneith said, referring to the bleeding man on the ground. “You were blatantly ignorant! You cried and mourned for the dead, yet you then attacked another man’s property!”

  “I’m a servant,” Amyth muttered, drawing Venneith’s startling attention to him. Nerr noticed something then, when his protector looked to the lesser. It was in the way Venneith gazed down upon he who was clearly weak, and in the way that lesser became subjected, shivering in fright and fear, for it appeared Venneith, Nerr’s protector, could and would slay this lesser man if he so pleased or was displeased by his words and/or action. It seemed even Amyth recognised this, yet despite it he insisted, “I’m not a slave.”

  “Slave or servant, I have no use for you,” Venneith stated rather bluntly. “As you are the property of Elder Utch it is up to him to decide what shall happen to you in the end. Whatever be his will I expect you to carry out.”

  This Nerr witnessed as he perched atop a low-hanging branch looking down upon them, when suddenly a shadow seemed to overtake Nerr yet again. Once more he feared it was darkness come to claim him, but once he looked he found that it wasn’t darkness but his own wing. It seemed to expand on its own as if something or some force compelled his very being to…to leap, from the branch. It was almost as if there was a call, an instinct perhaps, yet Nerr wouldn’t take the leap for it was too high up and he’d surely fall, but it was only then that Nerr truly discovered himself.

  He looked himself over, finding just how fascinated he was with his own person. He wasn’t vibrantly colored or as white as the clouds. He was blackened and devoid of light like his protector; Venneith, the Darkened Burnt Armored Knight.

  Yet as he looked himself over, Nerr then heard a chirp. It sounded eerily like his own so he too chirped, looking to the branches and skies above attempting to see where the call had originated. He couldn’t quite see but soon did little Nerr hear a distinctive call sung back to him before a creature emerged, poking its head out from a branch above. It chirped again leaving Nerr to replicate it nearly the same, yet poorly nonetheless.

  Being rather flattered that another creature would attempt to replicate its call, the creature took it upon himself to investigate and land next to Nerr out of good opinion for the strange new beast. Nerr found this new thing to be a bird with a belly colored in white, with black stripes across its back and a crown of black feathers, with white wings that darkened near the edges. It looked to Nerr, giving him a sideways glance. Nerr chirped again hoping to gain a response, and so it chirped once more before abruptly flying away leaving Nerr to himself. However, as it left, the dragon observed: this creature had wings much like Nerr did and appeared to utilize them for flight. A concept Nerr could only observe without the means to comprehend.

  Yet it left Nerr to question how such a thing was possible and if it could even be done. That flapping thing, Nerr pensively wondered as he mulled over the mechanics of the action. It spread its wings, leaned forward and flapped away. Seemed simple in practice but Nerr didn’t seem to recall falling to be a part of the process. So much for appeasing his beastly call to flight.

  He hit the ground squawking before turning himself back over to screech at the sky for betraying him. He then heard a shout just behind him, so close in fact that he leapt and bounded left and right skittishly about. It was the aforementioned kindred, similar to his protector, only one was supported by Venneith while the other carried many shiny object that glistened in the sunlight, drawing Nerr’s interest immediately.

  “A dragon!” Amyth shouted, before sticking his hands out in an attempt to calm or corral Nerr as if the little dragon could at any moment slay them all entirely.

  “Taff, kill it!” Phith panted, before using his free hand to shoddily drew his sword like a drunk man.

  Venneith only slapped it away before attempting to put the two men at ease. “Calm yourselves. It’s only a baby drake. Are you a man or child?”

  Nerr hissed. He didn’t like the type of atmosphere the other two seemed to be giving off around his protector. He curled himself back, keeping himself low to the ground and teeth bared in plain view as he let loose with a warning, vicious snarl.

  “You’d think it wouldn’t attack?” Phith ridiculed, as his arm slackened, letting the blade chip at the dirt. “That fiend is the Offspring Of That Dragon! A Yewl To The Letter!”

  “His name is Nerr, and his is tamed it would seem,” Venneith spoke before he witnessed Nerr suddenly seem to become very distracted by a fluttering creature that had only moments ago flown near to his head. The three watched as the baby dragon chirped at it thinking it was another bird, before nipping at the air and eventually catching half within his maw.

  Although the fluttering creature’s death seemed assured, it still struggled with its one free wing as Nerr looked back to Venneith as if to ask if it did good in catching the flying thing, before spitting it back out when he received no clear response. It didn’t even taste that good, it was bitter but interesting and colorful nonetheless.

  Speaking of taste, Nerr developed a curiosity as to how everything else tasted. If the butterfly was awful then what about the grass? Bland, it turned out. What about the tree? Stale. What about the leaves? Equally as bland. But what about the apples? Sweet… it turns out. So he ate another, picking one from the tree before crushing it one mouthful at a time until he was finished.

  He then looked to find his protector and found that he nor the others were where he last saw them. Nerr then began to panic, calling out one chirp after another. Jumping from his perch he found himself crashing to the ground yet again. However, this time, the dragon landed rather softly. It seemed deploying his wings during his plummet eased the descent, however he didn’t dwell on the discovery as he began to immediately investigate the surrounding area. The grass they had stood upon was still disheveled. He lowered his head to get a closer look and discovered a scent. It was familiar, it was pungent, tingy and burnt. It smelled of… his protector!

  Nerr raised his head to sniff about. He sniffed to the sky and to the land around until his snout picked up on the familiar scent. With this, the dragon’s senses told him that his protector was in that general direction…west, to the left of north. So he followed the trail, being sure to study the grass and raise his head every so often to pick up on the protector’s scent.

  His journey wasn’t long. In fact it was very short as Nerr only had bounded a short distance before the dragon began hearing his protector, along with his accomplices, a short distance away. Nerr wondered however why he’d leave him, especially after having saved him from the da
rkness. However, Nerr didn’t think too much on it, instead he bid for Venneith’s attention as that dark figure helped Phith haul his red leaking leg while Amyth carried the various shiny objects.

  “Ah, ouch,” Phith grunted as he did his best not to burden Venneith with his weight as he hobbled along on one good leg. “I come unscathed from a fire-breathing dragon and I’m wounded by…by a sun-kissed foreigner.”

  “I said quiet,” Venneith grunted, taking one easy step after another. “With any luck you’ll bleed to death within the next hour anyways.”

  “True Carthinians don’t bleed to death,” he pitifully jested. “Can’t you just…white magic the wound shut?” he asked, before a peculiar sensation teased the wound in his leg.

  Glancing just beneath his arm all he saw was a dark little figure nudging its little muzzle against his bleeding leg before scraping it with its teeth. In a panic he let out a startled cry, turning himself around before falling back in the dirt.

  “That Taffing Dragon!” he angrily grunted, pushing himself up and away. Meanwhile Nerr hissed, sensing Phith’s hostility towards him.

  Nerr was just innocently tasting the blood coming from his leg, for Nerr first thought, if it retained the same color as the apples in the trees, then surely the flavor would be something to savor just the same. Nerr lapped at the blood on his lips and snout before scuttling to take refuge behind Venneith’s legs, keeping a sure piercing eye on the agitated individual.

  Yet, despite all this, Venneith only shook his head. “He’s a dragon, of course he’d have a taste for flesh.” He knelt down next to Phith. His demeanor insisted he was in good health but his sweating, pale, shivering body said otherwise. “I may just offer you up to him if you keep persisting in this manner. Now sit still before you’re fresh meat.”

  Venneith lowered both arms, taking Phith’s heel in his left hand and cupping the wound in his right.

  “I didn’t know you actually knew white magic, Venneith,” Phith grunted as his gaze shifted from Venneith’s visor to the dragon lurking just behind him. “‘White’ isn’t exactly adorned in your many titles.”

  “I don’t,” he commented, raising his right finger only for a wee-little flame to briefly spark over the tip of his armored finger.

  At the sight Phith’s, expression grew more and more sorry for himself once he figured just how Venneith was going to heal his wound. “Just…just let me…” he muttered as he took out his knife and placed the soft leather handle in his mouth. He then nodded and closed one eye as he clutched his thigh with both hands.

  As Nerr watched, he first heard the man began to grunt and moan, then he smelled something sizzling just as Phith began to shout and cry out in pain. His body began to shake as his uninjured leg spasmed about. Watching as the man writhed, Nerr found that this began to scare him and so in an effort to distance himself from the commotion of wound-cauterization he scampered up a tree to watch from a distance.

  “Hold him down!” Venneith commanded, before Amyth promptly placed both hands on Phith’s wounded leg while Venneith continued to appeal to Deuth, channeling fury into his hand, summoning heat to cauterize the wound. After Amyth secured the leg, Venneith again focused, unleashing yet another small fury of flame beneath the leg, compelling Phith to wail all the more.

  Then, as soon as it had begun, the cauterization was at once over. Venneith withdrew his hand, that steamed and simmered with the charred blood of Phith. It was sure to have stained the surface armor like the blood of those he slayed before. He stood as Phith spat the knife from his mouth as he writhed and shivered from what was left of the awful burning sensation.

  “Heya, I…” Phith disorientedly whispered and panted. “-true Carthinian, hehe.” Venneith only shook his head as Phith weakly laughed to himself.

  “Seems you won’t be dying today,” Venneith then assured.

  “Ha, w-what a shame. The boys could wait. At least I can tell the tale of when Venneith, the Armor Burnt Knight, healed my wound with fire.”

  “That’s the least interesting thing you could tell.”

  Looking around, Venneith tried to find wherever Nerr ran off to. That dragon had seemed quite deceitful, always escaping his presence, but the act never really seemed insidious, more a byproduct of the curiosity of that little thing as it wondered and explored. Hopefully it’d come back. It’d be a shame to lose such a rare, magnificent creature so soon.

  However, before Venneith could worry too much, he then heard a chirp, bidding his gaze to look up. There Venneith then saw Nerr communing with a black and white magpie. Both seemed to be happily chortle one with one another. Venneith watched as Nerr threw his head up with excitement with every other chirp he made. This simple act of Nerr tossing his head could only remind Venneith of the dragon’s mother the Knight had slain, and how it did the same thing when Venneith competed with the dragon’s might, calling it a bitch only for it to retort to his very insults in the same manner. Yet, even without having known of his mother, little Nerr seemed to still hold a bit of her nature and mannerisms within him.

  Yet, as innocent as this little act was, Venneith then became slightly bothered by a mere prodding thought as his pondering persisted. If Nerr could replicate the trait of its mother without having even known the beast, then who was to say it won’t adopt more violent and malicious traits later on throughout its life? Venneith only shook his head. He knew the mere act of thinking to be a dangerous pastime indeed. At the moment it’d be best not to make the dragon out to be a savage killer, for it hadn’t lashed out with intent to harm just yet. Instead Venneith would wait and see for himself in the days to come if Nerr become feral or not.

  “I think we’ll be resting this afternoon,” Venneith suggested, as he pushed the thoughts of harboring a violent little dragon in the making away. He looked to Phith, who lay there panting from the pain in his leg, before glancing to Amyth who rested his back from the burden of three swords, a shield, several pieces of jewelry and his own gear. “No use in moving now if one can hardly walk while the other is burdened. Amyth?”

  “Yes, Knight Venneith?” he answered, refusing to show his tiredness.

  “Hand me one of those swords,” he commanded, noticing how the Narrovinnian clutched a single letter in his free hand yet not thinking much of it. “Give it here, for you’ll do no good if you’re unable to travel.”

  The knight seemed to be more annoyed than generous judging by his flat monotone voice, yet Amyth wouldn’t be one to argue if not for the act that could be considered kind.

  Meanwhile, as Nerr chirped with the newfound black and white magpie, he followed as it leapt from one branch to another before leaping off and gliding to another tree. From across the small gap the magpie reluctantly chirped as if to bid Nerr to jump and fly to it. It seemed to be leading him somewhere or to something.

  Now Nerr was wary when it came to falling as it wasn’t necessarily thrilling or fun the first time round. However, the way the magpie performed was different. For one, it didn’t rapidly flap its wings about like it once did when taking off. Instead it just spread its wings and fell… but not so. It instead was carried.

  Looking to his own wings he unfurled them once more to study them more carefully. Now it wasn’t necessarily easy to examine something so dark but the sun seemed to shine through the thin folds of his wings that were many times longer than the width of his body. Much larger than the bird’s wings, no doubt, but Nerr didn’t quite know what that meant for him or how he could benefit from such a thing.

  So, looking back to the magpie that tilted its head in concern for Nerr, the dragon then leaned forward and gilded, albeit very roughly. His back didn’t keep very straight, his tail wavered, throwing him off and he nearly crashed into the trunk. Yet upon impact with the wooden surface he immediately clung to it before he could bounce off. With that poor recovery, Nerr gained his grasp and scampered up the trunk, wearily chirping to the bird with the wind having nearly been knocked out of him.

&
nbsp; Yet, reaching the same branch the magpie had perched itself upon, it again hopped up and flew to a higher one, leaving Nerr once again to follow. Scampering upwards he reached the same branch again whereupon the magpie chirped before hopping once more atop a structure of some kind. It was a structure made of wood but much smaller ones, like the tips of the larger branches; it was made out of twigs.

  Peering over the brim, Nerr found inside were these white little orbs looking small and cozy as they rested peacefully within the nest. Was this what the magpie wanted Nerr to see? Was this what the magpie wanted him to eat? Well, Nerr didn’t question the generous act before lowering his head to bite down upon two of the three eggs presented to him before instantly garnering a taste for the creamy, succulent eggs. They were delicious to say the least but Nerr didn’t quite understand why the magpie suddenly became so hostile and aggressive towards him.

  It started chirping frantically as it pecked him on the head and body all over. Nerr raised his wing letting it take the brunt of the magpie’s attacks as he first shied away, nearly slipping from the branch.

  “Taff is that ruckus?” Phith questioned, looking up in the general direction of the noise.

  Venneith also looked but couldn’t see a thing. However one could easily infer what, or who, exactly may have been causing an uproar. “I think Nerr is just being a little dragonly.”

  As the attack persisted, Nerr became fed up with the magpie’s ceaseless assault. Why would it suddenly violate his trust like this, luring him into a tree only to start pecking away, risking the little dragon’s health at the mercy of a long fall? Well, Nerr wasn’t having any more of this nonsense. He was bigger and he also had claws! So, opening his maw, he tried to lash out with his teeth first, however the magpie only leaped away before coming in again with a furry of beak-pecks.