As Nerr kept his distance, slinking to the corner of the table nearest to Venneith using the knight as a sort of shelter, Venneith answered, “Precisely. I want to know I’m not harboring a destructive-natured beast. If, however, that is precisely the case, I’m sure you’ll understand my resolve.” He lowered his gauntlet to Nerr, letting the dragon take it in his claws and nibble on it briefly.
“Mhmm…” she mused, taking a moment to consider as she poured herself a bowl of soup. “Well, I’d love to tell you what the future holds in store for the dragon, I really would, but it seems a certain knight hasn’t done his research or come to know the god Roughen.”
As she took a brief sip of the mix, Venneith could only ask, “Excuse me?” For a woman who seemed so common she surely was bold in her subtle ways. The way she stood, addressed the knight, talked and toyed with the dragon. It could only be the elements of a well-off, sure, capable woman.
“Why, yes. The god Roughen may grant us visions of ourselves and others, for he is a god of man like other gods as well. But that’s just it, he’s only a god of man. Not beasts, for man’s eyes were crafted after his. Beasts, on the other hand, took on a whole ’nother form as Lythre willed it to be. So, I could stare at your little dragon’s entrancingly beautiful eyes all day, but so long as his eyes are crafted after the fancy of Lythre, I will see nothing.”
“So that’s it?” Venneith questioningly inferred. “I’m dealing with…a liability that could slay everything at any moment.”
After voicing his honest concern Venneith was taken aback when the seer laughed before saying, “You think too simply over the nature of your little dragon. Creatures alike are very intimate. They have feelings and emotions, wants and dreams, just like you or I. They find hatred in the things that wrong them, like how he loathes me now.”
Glancing to the dragon, she spied Nerr standing defensively in the corner nearest to Venneith, eying her with deep indignation, wings splayed and body low in defence, watching carefully with sharp intent. The dragon was sure to never take his eyes off the woman, however when she placed a bowl of that finely attractive smell near to him did Nerr’s suspicion and distrust become overwhelmed by curiosity. Still, he made sure to approach with caution, sidestepping his way closer as his gaze shifted from her to the bowl.
“However, like any man,” she continued as Nerr gradually drew nearer, “hatred can be mended with kindness and care if his heart be softened and open to trust.”
With caution the dragon lowered his head, first getting a sniff for the stew. It was quite different, it made his mouth water with bodily hunger. What kind of food was this? Was it susenance, the dragon wondered before quickly lowering his head to lap at the brown liquid. The taste was savory, and delicious. It had bits of meat and some vegetables, but the liquid was something else to be savored as he lapped away, running his slender tongue throughout the bowl to get as much as he could as soon as he could as he delighted in the taste.
“See, there ya are,” Kuri said before she rested a hand upon the unwary dragon, catching him by surprise as she proceeded to scratch the lower half of his neck. At that moment, Nerr had lost control of himself as the delightful feeling of being scratched reduced him to nothing more than a subservient little dragon. He fell to his side, lightly kicking and lolling around on the table as she kindly treated him. “You see, gaining his trust was only a matter of giving, but he already favors you, yes?”
Venneith only nodded his head.
“Was he the first thing you saw?” she kindly and innocently questioned Nerr as he writhed in her soothing pleasant scratches.
“Just after he hatched, yes,” the knight answered.
“Then it must be he imprinted on you, like how a duck imprints upon any animal or object if its mother is killed or lost.” She released the dragon from her care and Nerr quickly rolled himself over, letting out a brief whimper before turning his attention to the bowl instead. “If that is the case, then the dragon sees you as nothing more than his protector. A thing to safeguard him while he grows and learns of the world around.” Turning to knight she asked, “Has he given you items?”
“Twice,” he simply answered. “A bird the first time, the next was gold.”
“Tribute is what he offers. By accepting, it’s telling the dragon you’ll continue to look after him in exchange for favors. Because of this he won’t grow in the way in which you see fit or ideal. He’ll be rebellious once he finds himself ready to be independent and not have to rely on you to guard him and his health. As he grows he’ll hardly listen, and if this continues he may just grow to be a beast. One which I’m sure you’ll slay.”
“Why, of course,” Venneith spoke with hardly a break in his voice.
“Well, if you wish to avoid that and make Nerr more of your companion rather than anything else, then that’s exactly how you must treat him. As a companion. Feed him, train him. Make sure he knows his own name. Nerr? Nerr,” she quietly called, holding her hands to the little dragon as he continued to eat and lap up the food.
At first, Nerr didn’t know what was going on, but then he recognised a sound. It was a simple sound that had been used often when he was around. Then a shadow began to envelop him. Raising his head quickly he became suspicious of the seer as she peered down at him with an all too pleasant, yet eerie voice. Her hands were held out, was she trying to give him something else to eat? He sniffed it in case there was anything, but there was nothing Instead Nerr suddenly became treated to yet another scratching, losing himself in the feeling as she repeatedly said his name, insisting on just how much of a good dragon he was.
Yes, definitely yes. Nerr really liked this human now.
“So I’m to befriend the dragon then? Gain its trust?”
“Yes, precisely.”
“That is simple,” he admitted. “However, I’m at a loss. I haven’t raised a beast in the past, not even a dog in my day.”
“Well, if he were in my care I’d raise him as any other animal, but give me a moment,” she said before lowering her chin in thought. “Yes. Right, well, I think I may know how to make the both of you mutually beneficial to one another. No one fully controls the other and each helps the another.”
“Mutually beneficial,” Venneith questioned thoughtfully. “How so?”
Looking to the knight, a slight grin on her face, she asked, “Have you ever heard of a falconer?”
While Venneith silently shook his head it was Amyth who first remembered the familiar phrase. “You mean…a man who trains birds? Or do you speak of a select few of the guild of Ike?”
“The former: a man who trains and hunts with avians,” she clarified. “Your dragon’s got wings such as an avian. It is also eager to hunt, it seems, judging by the bird you mentioned receiving prior. Good thing the man I know is familiar with these creatures borne by air. Talk to him and I’m sure he’d be excited to help, especially with that dragon you’ve got,” she assured, nodding to Nerr who obediently sat there gazing up at her almost projecting his wishes and deepest desires for another scratch.
“The man?” Venneith asked.
“You are a man of few words aren’t you, Venneith?” she half jested.
“The man…” Venneith persisted, asking once more.
“He’s my brother,” she answered. Then, pointing past the knight at nothing in particular, she said, “Travel north of this village, there’s a path that leads to a well. Beyond that lies another path beaten by the steps of my brother as he often goes to the sanctuary we built. Sometimes with others interested in the profession. However, before you go,” she trailed off before turning away to grab something from a cupboard. “Give this to him so he knows I sent you and say he’s free to return so long as Varrult behaves himself.”
The item she gave was a small wooden replica of the eye of Roughen.
Preparing to take their leave, Nerr found himself to be stored in the pack once more, much to his disappointment and sheer disliking. However, being nicely
full of food that nice lady freely gave him, he found rest to be a lot more welcome, being so warm and snug inside. So Nerr drearily closed his eyes and dozed off with a tired snarl, almost a yawn.
However, his rest wasn’t long sadly because he all too soon found Amyth stirring within the bag once, effectively waking the dragon from his deep slumber. In the distance he heard a voice, a new one that wasn’t familiar or belonging to the Burnt Armored Knight. It spoke in bemusement saying, “You have a dragon?”
“Yes,” Venneith affirmed as he took the pack from Amyth. “Your sister said you could help and perhaps train little Nerr.” Holding out his hand he added, “She also told us to give you this.”
“Heh,” he chuckled as he swiped it and pocketed it. “Kuri is often too soft, isn’t she Varrult?”
As Nerr finally began to fully come to his senses, he then heard a new sound akin to that of a bird but sounding completely different from a magpie or any other bird that sang in tunes and joyful songs. This new sound was sung differently; it seemed calculative, wise and noble as far as bird sounds go. However it wasn’t long before Nerr got a look for himself.
“Let’s have a look at this dragon. Nerr, was it?” the falconer asked before Venneith let the dragon loose, dispensing Nerr on the grassy ground. For a moment the brightness was blinding. It startled Nerr, causing him to groan as he shadowed his eyes with his claws and wings. “Aw, well nervous is he?” the falconer observed with a grand smile upon his face.
Venneith only shook his head, quite unsure of the dragon in that moment. “He’s often bold and hard-headed. I’d think he’s eager yet tired now.”
“Perhaps we woke him from his sleep, eh?”
As Nerr’s vision adjusted he peeked at his surroundings with one eye, trying to spy anything new — who the voice was and what he looked like, what that strange new birdlike noise was and how it may have looked. It seemed that every day brought something new to discover, a new place to find and things to see. Nerr was eager for the most part, but what was that clawed thing standing just before him?
A coo escaped the brief silence and something plucked at Nerr’s hide. Acting fast, Nerr unfurled himself and took a stance as he faced this newfound being. Before him stood a mighty bird, its eyes narrow, its back looming as its talons lay firmly planted in the grass before the dragon. It gazed down at him, Nerr getting the strong impression that it was harshly judging him, sizing him up, comparing strengths, calculating weakness, ambition and courage. Nerr found it intrusive and the way it glared almost smugly at him just made the dragon bitter.
“Aye, Varrult does this often,” the falconer said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if this ritual of dominance wasn’t too serious.
The bird was twice Nerr’s height, though if Nerr stood on two legs he’d measure the same in height if not taller. Nerr observed Varrult to have no arms, as most birds naturally didn’t, so the dragon logged that small bit of information away, however its talons were no doubt razored. They looked sharper than most birds’ did, and far more adept at tearing it seemed. Its beak was a tool and as sharp, if not sharper, as his talons too.
Staring into the eyes of the falcon, Nerr made sure to pierce Varrult’s very soul with his equally intense gaze. However, Varrult didn’t seem affected as neither was Nerr. This was a little strange for the falcon as most newcomers accepted their place below his prowess, often bowing or conceding to such a raw presence that seemingly radiated from his being. This thing, this little dragon hardly over a few days old, as Varrult’s natural insight could tell, was this so stubborn as to compete with him? Well, it just seemed he’d have to personally put him in his place.
Nerr only watched as Varrult loomed closer, taking one easy stride after another until he fully stood above him. That smirk, that damn smirk Varrult wore on his face, as if he was superior to Nerr! What is this injustice, thought the dragon. He’ll tear it to shreds feather by feather if this persisted, but before Nerr took action, for a brief moment it seemed he’d won.
Miraculously Varrult seemed to back down, to nod his head in approval and accept him. It was so sudden it caught Nerr off guard and he almost felt…overly pleased, accomplished even! That’s right, thought Nerr. He was a dragon of great power and ambition! He’d never back down from a challenger and he’d always put them in their place no matter the beast, kindred or animal. They’d all succumb to him!
That was until Varrult doubled back, of course, suddenly splaying his wings as he rushed the dragon standing above him. His advancement was so sudden, so unexpected. Nerr needed to react, to launch a counter-attack and strike Varrult first before any harm could be done to him! He tried lurching forward, he tried to dodge, he tried to swipe at the feathery creature, but it was too late.
Lashing out with one tallon, Varrult latched onto Nerr’s precious little arm, on which the dragon relied all too much, and rolled him over, exposing his soft underside, stomach and neck. Oh that neck, the best place to cut and finish quickly, but could it really be compared to the gut for surely that was the most fun when it came to the enjoyment of the hunt. The feeling of having complete control as you tear away as any prey struggles helplessly below as they slowly succumb to a painful death. It was a feeling like no other.
Oh how Varrult wished to tear away and punish the dragon for his transgression, oh how it would’ve made Varrult feel proud, but this falcon had a master and this dragon had an owner. It couldn’t be done in the way he saw fit, but he could still frighten this little bat completely. Gazing down at Nerr, the dragon let out a cry before Varrult taunted back with one deafening screech, banishing the dragon to a temporary state of complete subjugation.
“Aye, Varrult!” the falconer simmered, with his patience wearing thin. “That’s enough, more than enough! Perch!”
A bit disappointed, Varrult had no other choice but to obey. But he couldn’t just leave without another word, no. The dragon was fearfully paralyzed. It dared not move in his clutches as it lay pinned against the ground. He’d send him off with one final say, a trill to the ears of man.
“Don’t be so bold now,” Varrult insidiously whispered, lowering himself down to the frightened Nerr. “I’ll rip you apart, entrail by bloody entrail.”
“Varrult, Perch!”
With one last fleeting grin, Varrult obeyed, dismounting the dragon before flying upwards to perch himself upon the arm of his master. The Falconer didn’t seemed pleased with Varrult’s actions but it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t come around again and soon forgive. Sadly there most likely wouldn’t be a treat to eat because of this, but to Varrult the act itself seemed worth it.
“Bad Varrult, that’s a bad Varrult,” the falconer said, lightly thumping Varrult on the top of his head with his knuckle.
Now free of the falcon’s talons, Nerr picked himself up with a whimper and scampered back to Venneith, who greeted him with open arms. He wanted to get away from that thing, that mean birdy, the very one that wronged him unjustly. He wanted Venneith to punish the birdy, to kill it! He cried and pleaded for Venneith to do just that but the knight was tolerant and he did no such thing, even as Varrult smirked at the crying, pathetic little dragon. He was half surprised the dragon didn’t soil himself, but for now the falcon couldn’t be more pleased with his work.
“So, we can forgive Varrult for this little incident, yeah?” the falconer asked as he let the knight gather up Nerr as he whimpered and whined. “He gets a little dominant with the newcomers, but it’s all in good sport.”
“Ultimately I’m fine with Varrult’s act,” Venneith assured as he cradled the dragon in his armored arms. “Bravery and boldness are good to an extent. However, Nerr seems to lack the capability of knowing his limits and the extent of his ability. Perhaps this is a fine realization for the bold little thing. Perhaps to me this will be the first part of his training: realizing his limited strength and knowing when to concede and which battles cannot be won.”
“Is this why you leave the dragon to wander
, Venneith?” Amyth suddenly asked, raising his head as he rested beneath a tree. “Often I’ve felt you’ve purposely abandoned it in the wilderness.”
“What does it do while it’s in the wilderness?” the falconer asked either of them.
Amyth was hesitant to answer, glancing first to Venneith who spoke first stating, “I don’t know, but one could guess it hunts as often times it brings back offerings.”
“Mhmm?” the falconer queried as his stride came to a sudden halt. “You’re saying the dragon already brings you game?” Venneith only nodded as the dragon insisted on gnawing away at his ashen gauntlet, letting the bitter taste of the metal take his mind away from the bitter defeat of that falcon. “Well, that’s, uh, already a bit of the training down. If he knows how to hunt and retrieve game already then I don’t know if there’s much else I can teach.”
“Nerr doesn’t yet know how to obey commands,” Venneith stated. “I’ve only let him venture by himself. He brings game back of his own volition but what I’d favor is to see him obey my word and work alongside me and not freelance about.”
Looking down to the dragon, who kept his muzzle buried in his palm with his eyes locked in another death gaze with Varrult, Venneith began to wonder at the potential of this beast and the things it could later do. It could do a great things, protect many people and slaughter many villainous heathens in the name of Mortemy the great Carthinian King! Nerr was so young and held great potential yet was so naive. He’d grow, no doubt, but for now Venneith only hoped to do diligence by teaching it obedience through obeying commands.
Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers Page 9
