Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  “While many men and women work to ensure they end up with more than just dirt, there’s plenty of others who’d much rather turn their backs on such labor and turn to robbery and thievery. Often they’re young adults who’d wish for something more than the lifestyle they’ve been reared upon. Not all wish to tend forest, and alternatively neither do they desire to be slaughtered amidst crimson sand below the mast of our ships.”

  With interest, Nerr found little difficulty in slipping past the bar to explore these new shiny things. Looking about, the dragon found tall cases stacked high up and sealed away. Nerr could faintly smell things within them but none he smelled carried a particular sense of food with it. Next to those crates, however, stood a figure liken to Venneith and every Venneith-like stranger Nerr had met, yet it lacked certain features.

  Not only was it un-darken, un-hardened and ripped and torn about, but it lacked something…something Venneith-like, as Nerr would come to understand. It was ridged and still. Big, but yet it was empty. Yes, very empty, there wasn’t a thing within it, a Venneith-like thing to fill in the space.

  The empty figure held something in its grasp, something round with edges that glinted with a grim, rustic shine. Chipped in most places, scratched in others, while the center lacked such a dirty glistening, giving away only to wood. The little dragon found this quite interesting, if slightly intimidating. Yet among the dirtied, scarred leathercraft and battleworn disc, Nerr found his curious gaze being drawn to something of a slightly more impressive, if not more shiny nature…

  “Every day more and more children abandon Myndre before his call, running to hide in the mountains, forest and plains. We suspect we’re not alone with how swiftly our young disappear. Regardless, there has been some…inefficient activity along our roads. Already a few caravans have been threatened beyond the patrol of my men. Most caravanners came out fine, others were injured, but none have yet disappeared or been killed for that matter.”

  “If I am to infer,” Venneith began, interjecting, “you’d ask me to investigate. However, before you answer, I first ask, why not send the numerous men beneath your command instead?”

  “Well, I…” he began, before briefly becoming distracted when he looked round to see the dragon breaking into his personal little armory. There wasn’t much harm he could do but nevertheless the commander didn’t fancy the little thing helping himself to who knows what, especially when it lingered amongst his old armor he held with great sentiment and a blade which he found the dragon to be all too fondly gazing at.

  However, as hasty as the commander felt he should have been in removing the beast and protecting his items, he once again tore away his gaze to address the knight purely out of respect. “It’s not that we haven’t,” he answered, returning his gaze to the knight before him. “We sent an agent to uncover where they were hiding and he hadn’t yet returned. With everything going on, from damn dragons, to the indigenous, to monsters and prodigious arthropods, anything could’ve gotten to him and that’s why I now call on you. With you leading a small team it’ll ensure that at least one, if not yourself, returns to report your findings.”

  The dragon found there was something to be beheld within the cracked, scratched, smudged and unpolished, dirtied piece of steelwork he beheld. To Nerr it seemed to be something of an imperfect veil, like the opening to his pack he often gazed out of when resting, yet much less clear to see through and hardly visible when distinguishing shapes.

  “Are you implying that I’ll be accompanied by a band of infantry?” the knight questioned.

  “A duo, to be precise. They’re next to the best and very reliable too.”

  Beyond the veil of the unclear steelwork, Nerr saw something, and it approached low to the ground, almost stalking, as if to prey on Nerr like the fox had once tried and died of. Was the dragon being challenged? Was it under threat? Nerr wasn’t sure, but his senses tingled and he too stalked the beast slower and much more easily, yet it froze when he came near. Was it prepared? Nerr flashed his teeth, letting out a low growl.

  The figure didn’t react and, looking once more, it seemed to be facing away. The heartbeat of the dragon quickened. He had a quarrel, that figure had unknowingly started one with the vicious little Nerr and whether it was by design or by accident, the being would pay in blood! So was the only fitting consequence the dragon had known.

  “Am I to know their names?”

  Very briefly, Venneith altered his gaze to look past the commander and to Nerr, who seemed to stalk an old sword. Nerr wondered what was it that the beast had once thought? Had it intended to stalk the dragon? nd if it had, had the beast then become too timid and fearful towards the little dragon? Nerr didn’t quite like how it was so quick to cower, yet Nerr had no qualm with an opponent that didn’t fight back. One last flash of his teeth, another snarl with an agitated if not excited flick of his tail, but the figure mimicked him. Now it taunted. Now it begged for war.

  “Ah, my knight, their names are…”

  With one charge, Nerr lashed out with a snarl, intent on slaying the darkened enigma. He would make it pay, he’d make it suffer for even so much as thinking to sneak up on Nerr and attack him. Such a threat on his life must not go unpunished and punishment for this great transgression is exactly what Nerr intended to deliver. Yet once he attacked, he soon found himself counter struck by an object that lay directly in his path.

  His head struck the broadside of the sword, knocking the bottom back. Before Nerr knew what had happened there was a crash, startling him greatly, causing him to jump back with a yelp as the crossguard crashed into the shield, knocking it from its hook before it fell with another crash. To Nerr the world had become chaos filled with loud noises and commotion. He couldn’t fight for surely loud noises equated to great and overwhelming power, so the only alternative left was to retreat, and retreat he did as both the blade and shield crashed to the floor.

  With great haste Nerr turned on his tail, putting all four limbs to the ground as he scampered away, between the bars, over the fur carpet, around the commander’s legs until he reached his salvation, his protector, who would surely ward off the loud assailant. Nerr climbed the knight, scuttling all the way up his armor till he stood atop his shoulder only to bark loudly in the general direction of the attacker.

  Yet even as Nerr pleaded for the knight to do something about it, to slay it and make it unliving, Nerr ceased in his constant barking only when Venneith spoke. However, he didn’t speak out of urgency but with patience, uttering apologies to the commander as he left the dragon to linger near him.

  This left Nerr to curiously circle around the knight’s helmet from one shoulder to the next. Why was he so calm? Had Nerr overestimated the threat level of his attacker, or was it that the threat in fact wasn’t a threat when compared to such a being as Venneith? Yet Nerr began to think, and then he looked as he next asked himself, was there truly even a threat at all?

  Surely there must’ve been; Nerr saw it with his own two eyes! Yet when Nerr looked again he didn’t see a darkened figure lurking beyond a metal veil. Instead he saw simple objects lying about the floor. There was no dark lurker stalking the dragon, had Nerr…imagined it? Whatever the matter, he’d be sure to stay close to Venneith, very close indeed, for if a being could be there only for it to disappear, then it could only have been the beast from the darkened cave itself. No doubt it would lurk out of sight and beyond the light until the opportune moment when it comes time to strike.

  “I asked their names,” Venneith reminded the bewildered, awe-struck commander, who at this point couldn’t help but marvel at the little dragon perched upon the knight’s shoulder. Nerr stared intently back at him as if gold lingered behind his eyes, daring the dragon to lash out in a fury of teeth and claws to fight past him to retrieve them. “Their names, Commander,” Venneith asked one final time, the tone ringing true to the knight’s patience wearing thin.

  It would’ve been a wise thought to finally answer the knigh
t. Though with all these distractions, or more precisely, that baby dragon, it seemed to always escape him. However, he couldn’t be stopped now, not unless he was suddenly attacked or struck down. “Their names are Joshien and Maven…”

  There was a brief pause between the two after the commander finally listed off the two in concern, however it seemed Venneith wasn’t pleased. It wasn’t until a moment later when Venneith shrugged his shoulders and asked, “Well…who are they?”

  “Oh…they’re a pair of guardsmen I keep,” he answered before a knock at the door interrupted the trio, nearly scaring Nerr off Venneith’s shoulders. He would’ve belched out fire too if Venneith hadn’t acted so calm in the midst of the startling surprise.

  “Commander Jord!” a familiar voice called out. “I’m hoping you’ll have a bite with me over this rabbit we caught.” His final word was accompanied with a hawklike screech and Venneith knew all too certainly it to be Trent Turk.

  “Damn, Trent,” Jord muttered as he marched past Venneith, who now stood aside with Nerr curiously observing from his self-proclaimed perch. When he opened the door he kindly greeted the falconer first, saying “Aye, Trent! I wouldn’t mind such a thing but there are a few things that demand my attention right now.”

  As Venneith stood near, not yet in full view of the doorway, the knight noticed his scaly little friend take on a certain attitude towards Trent, but more particularly Varrult. Venneith observed the dragon that lay perched atop his shoulder and noticed how straightened his back was, as if his body had become locked down. His tail flickered and flicked, keeping his balance, and his eyes bore into the general location Nerr’s senses guessed the bird to be.

  As the two talked, Venneith became concerned for his little dragon. He firstly tried waving a hand in an effort to break the dragon’s concentration, to no avail. He then called to Nerr lowly, yet the dragon remained fixated. It wasn’t until Venneith slouched his shoulder that the dragon nearly lost balance and thus broke concentration to re-orientate himself. Yet before Nerr could entrance himself in one of numerous self-proclaimed perceived threats the dragon had made throughout his short life, Venneith cupped the dragon’s head in his hand, covering his eyes before stepping into the doorway and making himself known to Trent.

  “Ah, knight Venneith,” Trent greeted once he saw the knight. “I thought I smelled ya, but let’s just call that the master’s intuition.” Before Venneith could respond, Trent spoke yet again, saying, “Ah, and I see you still carry little Nerr there too. It seems my training is really teaching the dragon to be tame, yes?”

  “For the most part,” Venneith answered as he slightly tightened his grip around the crown of Nerr’s head to keep him from seeing Varrult and panicking with fright. As it was, Varrult already held a sinister gaze on the dragon. “I must apologize,” Venneith began as he slid past commander Jord, his heavy armor scraping against the rockwork of the threshold. “I must leave before Nerr sees your little…”

  “Oh, no need to continue, Venneith,” Trent assured, before reaching for his purse to withdraw a small piece of leather. “For any little avian friend it’s best to fit them with these blinders. It keeps them calm during down time and I always keep one just in case Varrult finds himself a little too excited, or startled even.” Slipping past Jord, he muttered an apology before raising his hands to Nerr’s struggling head and strapping the blinders to his eyes, making Nerr effectively blind. “Aye,” Trent muttered with a job well done before snapping his fingers and adding, “better than givin’ em stitches if you ask me. I personally find it rather cruel.”

  Nerr wasn’t quite satisfied with the blinds he was given as it made him rather…blind. He waved his head about, attempting to shake the thing from his face, yet Nerr only succeeded in nearly losing his balance. If it wasn’t for Venneith he surely would’ve fallen from his high and mighty perch. Instead he let out low whines and growls as he frantically sniffed the air and listened with intent.

  “Well, he’ll be calm shortly,” Trent affirmed.

  “Well, it was fine of you to drop by, Trent,” Commander Jord began. “However, I was just in the middle of dispatching Venneith along the northern roads.” Jord raised his hands and, speaking more clearly, he called out to the top of the fort wall before them saying, “Joshien, Maven, you have an assignment!”

  “Finally!” Joshien sat up, stretching himself as Maven did the same.

  “Sir, at this point anything would beat the monotony of guard duty,” Maven called back.

  Following up, Joshien said, “Just tell us where and with who, Commander, and we’ll be off this moment.”

  Turning to Venneith, Commander Jord gave the knight and blinded fidgeting dragon a nod. “I’ll have them meet you in town.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Trent began, before Commander Jord could part ways with the knight. “Sorry if this is of any inconvenience, Commander, but Venneith is under my mentorship in the art of falconry.”

  “This knight?” Commander Jord pointed, a bit bewildered by what Trent had to say. “Knight…Venneith?”

  “Oh yes, Knight Venneith,” Trent affirmed as he reached for his purse once again. “He signed a formal contract which states that a falconer apprentice must be under the supervision of the falconer teacher for the first three years of teaching.”

  “Three years?!” Venneith suddenly blurted. He’d hardly even been in Marrin for more than three months and he didn’t expect his lord to be so gracious in allotting him any more time from the conflict.

  “Oh yes, three years, Venneith,” Trent affirmed. “Falconry is a full time commitment. It isn’t just some hobby you can pick up and leave off on, it’s dedication and it’s my personal duty to ensure you go the full term and bond with your little dragon if you are to become one.”

  “Trent,” the knight more calmly addressed as he regained himself from the sudden shock. “You can’t follow me everywhere. Right now I’m assigned on a potentially combat-based mission. I doubt you know how to fight, while lacking the equipment necessary to do so.” Venneith gestured to all of Trent and stated, “You don’t even have a jerkin, let alone a sword or shield. How can you expect to survive when faced with a foe?”

  As Commander Jord excused himself from both the knight and Trent to address his men, Trent argued, “That may be true, I don’t know how to fight yet… then again neither do you know how to raise a dragon,” he said, nodding his head to the blinded little Nerr perched atop Venneith.

  “You’ve only ever raised birds,” Venneith retorted, nodding his head to Varrult, perched atop Trent.

  “Yet they are similar to a degree, aren’t they? Hasn’t the teaching I provided proved just as useful?” Venneith stayed silent, leaving Trent to grin all too victoriously. “Mhmm, I thought as much, so here’s what I propose.” The knight made no comment and favored to listen obediently like the apprentice he now was and Trent knew him to be. “You’re a knight, a wall of steal. You can protect me, Varrult can scout and warn us of any danger, and I can continue to provide lessons. Now…what do you say? Deal?”

  Venneith watched as Trent held out his hand before shortly considering yet there was very little to actually consider. As hard as it was for this knight to admit defeat, he was still a knight of the people and as such would set an example. “Fine,” he murmured, before shaking the falconer’s hand. “But I will tell you this. Out there, anything can kill you, from beastly creatures undiscovered by man to V.A.s and the likes.”

  “Voluminous Arthropods?” Trent enquired. “Like spiders?”

  “And the likes…” Venneith continued. “Out there you do as I say to survive, yet when it comes to teaching, I’ll be your humble disciple. As a knight, I will be humble. You have my word.” With a bow, the knight gave his respects before Nerr lost his balance in the act and slipped from his shoulder, falling to the ground and a flurry of wingbeats and whines.

  With a nod, Trent gave into the knight’s genuine assurance, though Nerr seemed to be a lot less
enthused. The dragon grew impatient and began thumbing at the leather blinder, attempting to remove it, yet he only succeeded in removing a small portion of it, freeing one eye, which was all he needed to glance up to the falconer that stood before him, gaze once at Varrult before receiving a harsh screech from the beast, compelling the adolescent dragon at once to bolt in the opposite direction.

  Nerr didn’t have much time to process anything or think to consider his actions. All that he knew was that he was lost as he ran past his protector, hidden within his blind side. Up ahead he spied two strangers and a familiar approaching, and beyond them lay an opening, a place to escape and take refuge.

  Nerr had planned on slipping past the feet of the men standing before, him yet the dragon suddenly paused when he heard something that called back to him. It was a phrase beginning that had long since engraved itself like a tag, giving the dragon identity that he could call back on should he be lost.

  Pausing in his stride, the dragon let out a worried chirp before the three, and then he heard it again. This time it was much clearer given the dragon’s sudden patience and attentiveness to the call. Glancing over his wing, the dragon looked back and, to his relief, spied none other than his protector standing before him, hand outstretched, inviting the dragon near to him for nothing else but protection.

  Yet even as Nerr looked, something else called to him. It was internal and it pointed him away to the opened gate before him. It was a call to run, a call to hunt, a call to scavenge and a call to survive, yet these calls were distant and mute and strange to the dragon, for Nerr had known nothing of them as opposed to the thing he knew, the only thing that was for sure. His protector, the knight named Venneith.

  Even as that creature, that bird, lurked behind Venneith, perched on the shoulder of that familiar, Nerr listened and obeyed, returning to the thing he trusted most even in the presence of uncertainty or the perceived danger of that bird who grinned below that beak, casting a gaze of smug indignation. Nerr ignored this, chirped and allowed the knight to blind his eye once more. This time there would be no doubt as Nerr now understood the reason behind such an act.