Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  He waved both hands as if to throw something off his body, only to lock his arm ready to lash out with a savage strike, yet by that point Venneith had finally come to his senses fully and clearly. Shaking his head he reminded himself of the dragon he had left in his arms when he fell asleep and, looking down, he found himself rather shocked.

  There he lay, Nerr shivering coldly as he bled through the top of his head. He breathed but it seemed rather raspy, with an unhealthy squee every other breath. Venneith didn’t bother wasting time, instead he heated his hands to warm the little Nerr in his arms, holding him closely in one hand. Then before long, he heated his the metal over his thumb so that it glowed and gently he applied it over the bleeding spot smoldering the blood to a solid, protective scab.

  By now, Nerr’s condition had improved itself if anything. He stopped shivering and his breathing evened out as well, and while Venneith took to ease in wake of worry, he pondered over the early moments of when he woke. It was a screech he had heard, a woman as he remembered, but there was none here, for he knew dreams to be separate from reality. That left only one thing to come to mind, and after a short glance about did he spot Varrult in the feathers resting atop a branch not too far away, looking down on him as if it were smugly grinning.

  Was he the bird that had alerted him? Did Nerr get into trouble when woke in the night to sate his curiosity of the unknown? Looking again he saw Varrult lower his head, only to tear back as Venneith spied the bird beneath its talons, as dead as it was headless. Perhaps Nerr had acquainted himself with the wrong avian, whatever it was, and for that he felt great thanks for the deed of the rightful avian, Varrult the gyrfalcon. A noble companion of Trent, quite clearly.

  For now, all Venneith could do was rest, but only after he bagged Nerr away, warm and snug within his pack, for tomorrow they might have a long uneventful day, or perhaps there’d be some excitement to be had. Regardless, all Venneith could do was rest, this time with Nerr safely stored away so that no harm could come to him ever, for now Venneith sweared to it.

  Chapter ten

  “My gods!” Maven quavered lowly as his hand fell to his waist to rest upon the hilt of his blade. His breathing deepened as his blood raced throughout his body, leaving each hair to stand on end as he found it hard to get a grip of what he had witnessed. Standing behind Venneith and Joshein he pointed, quivering, questioning, “What in Lythre’s name is that!”

  “Aye, I said Varrult spied an anomaly twenty-two miles up,” Trent explained as he too stood behind the knight, much more calm but finding it hard not to feel the crawlies creeping through his skin. He cringed at the feeling and added, “Ugh, I ain’t gettin’ closer than this, Venneith.”

  Still fearful, Maven began crossing his chest as he chanted, “Ioxo help me, Vrueth look upon me not, Tuese see me not as a tenant just yet, and to all grant me strength; Jooude, Playrean, Polgratheaan, Keuth—”

  “Maven, quiet yourself!” Joshein scolded as he wrapped his palm around Maven’s mouth, bringing his bickering down to a muffle. “You’re making me look bad! If you’re gonna call upon the gods, do it beneath your breath.” Maven’s breathing was still quite hoarse as he trembled in Joshein’s grip with eyes clenched shut, but he did as asked and muttered away prayers for forgiveness and mercy.

  “Shall I let loose upon it now, my knight?” Amyth then questioned as he stood beside Venneith, bow drawn with an arrow ready to strike its target.

  “And be shown up by a Narrovinian? I think not!” Joshein protested with a wave of his hand, drawing his sword to face the threat.

  “Fine,” Amyth muttered before casting a challenging, almost affirming gaze to Joshein. “Have at it then, will you?”

  Looking again, second thoughts began coming much faster than anticipated and like Maven, he too began to experience panic upon looking and sizing up the beast before him. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down, he stepped away behind Venneith once more but protested, “Don’t get so high-headed, foreigner.”

  Amyth could only shake his head, repeating to himself the token phrase, ‘I am not a foreigner, I’m a Narrovinian like you.’ Already he was becoming annoyed with himself for just having to say it. “Do you even know what we’re looking at?” Amyth questioned them all.

  “Calm yourself, calm yourself,” Joshein muttered in between deep breaths beside his peer. “It’s uh…some sort of giant spider,” he casually answered with an uncertain wave of his wrist. “Taffing hairy arthropod that is, with damn huge eyes. Lythre, you damn god!”

  “It’s a Gypsy Seenth,” Trent was the first to answer.

  “And how do you know that?” Joshein doubtfully questioned. “Aren’t you just some lil’ ol’ wood’s boy?”

  “This handy little booklet here,” he said, holding up a rather healthily thick book for the infantry to see.

  Squinting, he read, “The Arthropods Identification Index?” Stepping forward, he swiped it away, saying, “Let me see that,” before starting at page one. “Six-plus legs, two body segments, medium build…does it have more than eight eyes?”

  “You want to take a closer look yourself?” Trent asked, folding his arms, with Varrult scolding the infantry from atop his perch.

  “Two central, two peripheral, as I can see,” Venneith offhandedly commented as he continued to examine the danger, sizing up his opponent.

  It was a fine morning for a fight as the sky was clear as far as the eye could see, though it could be considered afternoon in the time it took to travel. Nerr may have given the knight a small fright but he was fine for the most part, stowed away within the bag now strapped to the side of Astregra.

  “Terrific,” the horse had muttered when they arrived on the spot prior to Maven’s panic attack. “Now I’m saddled with a little beast, how unholy.”

  “Calm yourself, Astregra,” Venneith had said, hearing a brief whine from the mare before walking off to join the others standing before the beast.

  “Maybe I won’t be so kind,” Astregra retorted beneath her breath, clamping her teeth together in protest. She then felt a rustle at her side. It was the pack Nerr had strapped to her and she dreaded to feel it against her hide before the head of the little dragon popped out to gaze at her curiously. She only sneered, saying, “Keep your maw away or I’ll pop that delicate little head of yours right off your neck.”

  Nerr only tilted his blood-caked head curiously. Strangely, Astregra found that little innocent action extremely aggravating and annoying. “Y-you speak in my tongue too?”

  “Great!” Astregra scoffed, throwing her head skywards. “The Fiend Speaks Now!”

  Looking to his right, Nerr frightened himself when he saw Benphal standing so close. “D-do you speak my tongue too?”

  Benphal only snickered. “Your tongue? Das is beastie tongue, lil’ fiend.”

  “Beast tongue?” Nerr curiously questioned.

  Benphal only nodded before a shadow overtook the stallion as Varrult landed atop his neck. “I explained the phenomenon to him after dusk, though I may have forgotten to mention it being the blessing of Lythre granted to those who affiliate often with men.”

  Upon seeing the gyrfalcon, Nerr immediately slinked into the pack without another word, hoping to draw as little attention as possible.

  “The lil’ scaley scared?” Benphal asked as he shuffled closer to peer into the bag. “Come out, lil’ scaley, my teeth may be big but they’re for eating foliage and grass.”

  “Come any closer and I’ll make a trophy out of your tail,” Astregra sneered. “You old barny hag.”

  “Stubborn dam…” Benphal muttered before shuffling away, only to continue his effort to compel the little dragon to show himself. However, after a short moment of seeing no compliance from little Nerr, did he ask the falcon why that might be.

  “Don’t know,” Varrult offhandedly answered. “Perhaps you must’ve startled him. Just look at you, my friend; you’re enormous and imposing.”

  “Oh…I see…” Benphal
muttered, a bit guilty of himself.

  A call sign had been raised, giving Varrult the perfect excuse to abandon the two horses. “Master calls! Try not to look imposing next time, friend, will you? Don’t want to startle my little protégé, yeah? And you, stubborn mare,” he now directed to Astregra as he flew closely overhead. “Try your kindness a little more often, yes?”

  She only answered with an attempt to bite at his tail feathers to no avail, leaving her with yet another sneer adorning her face. “Nasty barn miscrits,” she muttered, shuffling a few steps away from Benphal, muddled within his own self-guilt for having startled little Nerr.

  Meanwhile, Joshein continued to flip through page after page until he reached the desired location. ‘Uh…page ’hundred-n-three,’ he muttered to himself. “Does it have hair or spindles?”

  “Are you blind now?” Trent again questioned.

  “Spindles,” Venneith answered before another confrontation could take place.

  “Long, medium, short?”

  “Short.”

  “Color?”

  “A mix of beige, blue and black.”

  One final index later and Joshein found the indexed page of the Gypsy Seenth. More defeated than interested in the information provided, he tossed book back to Trent with a dreary, “Fine,” then nothing else.

  “Says here Seenths are nomads from land to land,” Trent began. “Says here…‘It gets the name Gypsy from the collections of leaves and insects that it gathers along its travels, creating a sort of diverse ecosystem island-like habitat atop its chitin liken to the gypsy merchants that gather all sorts of nicnacs and jewelry across the land to later sale elsewhere. It’s an ambush predator, often spinning webs beforehand to drop down from above upon unsuspecting prey’.”

  “What?!” Maven suddenly yelled in alarm before springing up to his feet and whipping out his sword and shield. “You Mean They Could Be Anywhere Around Us Now?” Even Joshein couldn’t help but give into the sudden mentality of fear, drawing his sword as well as he gazed about warily, nearly growing sick from anticipation.

  “Says here they travel alone and only mate once they venture back to an established den or nest of Gypsy Seenths. Says its Venom is rather weak and more engineered towards paralysis until a healthy amount of poisonous venom can be applied through its much smaller, hidden secondary mandibles when prey is secured and the kill is assured.” Folding the book with a crisp clap of the pages, he bagged it away assuring them, “So it’s a lone wolf predator, it seems.”

  “Thank Lythre for having the sense,” Joshein sighed in relief. “So what’s our game? How do we proceed with this and avoid ending up like that sorry sap?” Looking ahead one could see the wrapped remains of a humanoid corpse lying below the beast as its mandibles picked and pronged at what seemed to have been long dead. No doubt it was nearly skin and bones at this point — or maybe not, considering the Seenth was still feasting.

  “If you’re not so stubborn I could let loose upon it,” Amyth said, reminding the infantry of his usefulness as he drew back on his bow and took aim. However, he then had a second thought and, lowering his bow, he added, “Unless our valiant infantry would like to have at it, yes?”

  Joshein first sneered before looking back on Maven, still shaking, finding it rather hard to look in the general direction of the arachnid. All Joshein could do was shake his head. Amyth took that as confirmation to carry out his own advance.

  “Hold fast, Amyth,” Venneith commanded, raising his hand. “Let’s try not to provoke it just yet while we’re unprepared. Joshein!”

  “Sir!” he answered, standing to attention, his off hand rested on his hilt while his right hand stuck at his side.

  “Be at my back and approach with me. Amyth, I’ll give you the signal to fire and that’s when we’ll attack.”

  “Understood,” Amyth affirmed.

  As Venneith took his stance in the road, grasping his weapons in both hands, Joshein couldn’t help but continue to be unnerved. “Venneith, my knight,” he began as he stood close to the Armor Burnt Knight with every step he made in advance. “I don’t mean to doubt you nor your skill or prowess, but in the case that you’re unable to combat this beast, or it overwhelms you, what am I to do?”

  “It’s an ambush predator Joshein,” Venneith casually stated as if to assure the infantryman, his gaze never wavering. “As is, it is far outside of its element. Are you?”

  Briefly looking past the knight he spied the Gypsy Seenth sitting over his web-wrapped prey as his mandibles slowly worked through the carcass, seeming to undulate as its body stood ridgid, eyes black and staring, undoubtedly at them, as the sun reflected off the silvery blue patches across its smooth chitin.

  “I mean, there isn’t much I myself can’t handle,” Joshein continued, “but perhaps I could be put to better use, like keeping to our flanks, making sure no sneaky movements come about, yeah?” Already they had covered half the distance from Amyth to the creature. Venneith was sure to keep a brisk marching pace, leaving Joshein to follow close by, creeping ever closer to the beast. “I mean, who’s to say that nifty book is correct in describing it as a lone ambush hunter? Just hear me out: who’s to say there aren’t multiple Seenths high in the trees waiting for us now while this one acts as the bait, yeah?”

  Venneith snickered, but only slightly. “If it be the bait then it’s a very off-putting, bitter temptation indeed.”

  As he looked on he was horrified to see the arachnid begin to react to their presence. First it stopped its incessant consumption and began taking a stance. It first raised its abdomen and mid hind-legs. Its head lowered as its eyes leveled with both Venneith and Joshein, briefly revealing a particular type of lizard that seemed to be cleaning the surface of insects and residue before scurrying away into the mess of leaves and small branches stuck to the creature’s chitin. If anything, it was prepared to fight, though judging by the condition it seemed more concerned in defending its food.

  “Actually, Venneith, why even bother with this conflict? Sure, it lies in our path, but who’s to say our path can’t be more divergent and… not so linear?”

  “Amyth, ready!” Venneith shouted, raising his hand. This was enough to cause the Seenth to jerk in their direction, to face them fully with the highest of awareness. Any further movements and the Seenth would surely take action. “Let Loose!”

  Joshein could only swear beneath his breath before bucking, raising his sword and shield as the whistle of an arrow flew directly overhead, only to embed itself within the left fore eye of the arachnid. There was a sudden squeal, a hiss of contempt before, without warning, the Seenth doubled back and retreated past the treeline, scurrying into oblivion.

  Joshein hardly had time to understand the sudden withdrawal of the arachnid. He was sure this would be a fight to the death like in stories told of fierce, unrelenting beasts against brave warriors and the blades they wielded. This…this was just anticlimactic, it was boring and he felt cheated for how mortified he’d just been.

  Venneith must’ve sensed his disappointment by the look on his face, his somewhat defeated posture, with lowered shoulders and awestruck gaze. Giving him one rough pat on the back Venneith said, “What did you expect? It’s an ambush predator that uses intimidation tactics when threatened. Would you expect any beast worth its intellect and instincts to challenge those odds or live another day to eat again?”

  With one last hefty pat on his shoulder, Venneith hugged his weapon as he approached the web-wrapped corpse that lay in the center of the road. This wasn’t the first time Venneith had dealt with webbing. From lessons learned he knew that with enough heat it’d melt right off the body. Applying his gauntleted hand to the surface it stuck fast, leaving Venneith channeling his hatred of all things beastly and unholy into the silk, causing his gauntlet to glow red, leaving the silk to melt like butter.

  As Venneith worked the silk over, Joshein was left to himself, reflecting over what had just happened, finding it hard to ign
ore what might’ve happened had it not gone so favorably.

  “Look up, will you,” Trent assured the infantryman. “If I remember correctly your commander once said, ‘progression without confrontation is victory within my eyes.’ Something of the sort.”

  Joshein only shook his head. “Anyone can spit out semi-philosophical testimonies. Doesn’t make them any wiser.” Sheathing his sword, Joshein finally allowed himself to stand straight before pushing past the falcon and his Gyrfalcon. “How do you think he ended up commanding a garrison of men in the middle of nowhere as opposed to leading on the beaches of Carthol or Narrovinnia?” Looking past Trent, he saw Maven finally on his feet and approaching, albeit with a wary gaze as if the creature might come again. Not wanting to prolong the interaction Joshein rested a hand on Trent’s shoulder as he pushed past, saying, “Be sure you know the man that offers wisdom for that very same wisdom could’ve been what made him, for better or for worse.”

  “That’s some really self-conflicting advice,” Trent retorted.

  “Take it in whatever fashion you fancy then.”

  Meanwhile, as Venneith continued in his work, the webbing was beginning to give way and unravel as the sticky resin abandoned the strands to drip to the ground below. The body within was revealed and the uniform was identified. It was the same uniform given to standard infantrymen, almost identical to the uniform both Maven and Joshein wore, albeit a bit varied for personal decoration, preference and taste. No doubt this was the missing agent sent prior to their arrival. Evidently it didn’t end well for him, but whether it was the arachnid directly that brought him to an end or some other means, Venneith continued in his investigation.