Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  Looking over the corpse he spied the dual puncture wound centered in his body, no doubt caused by the Gypsy Seenth. A quick glance to his hand revealed the skin to be a dried husk, hardly held together by its own merit for it was so brittle it seemed as if it could tear away at the slightest disturbance like an old building of rotted wood.

  A bit carelessly, Venneith began searching the pockets of the corpse, noting how he carried a sheath without a blade with a knife grasped in one hand, caked in blackened dried blood.

  Amyth, having performed finally, sought no recognition in the midst of the infantrymen. Maven by now had picked himself up to his feet, talking with Joshein about how poor his actions had been and how cowardly he’d become prior to the confrontation.

  “Friend, you’re making us look bad,” Joshein had said. “How will this sound when Venneith gets back to our commander and tells him how his finest man cried like a child upon seeing a mere spider?” Maven only shook his head. Whether it was in denial or dismissal Joshein didn’t accept it. “Next time you better shed a drop of blood to make up for this, understand?”

  “You mean cut myself?”

  “No,” Joshein groaned. “Have the enemy do it for you,” he answered with a slap to Maven’s helmet as if it was obvious. Looking back to the road he saw that Narrovinnian guiding the horses by the reins, down to Venneith with Trent close by. Astregra seemed resistant, often pulling her head away, but it seemed only as an act of defiance as she followed regardless. “Come on, Maven. Let’s not make ourselves look totally useless.”

  With the soft, jolting clip-clops of Astregra’s movements, Nerr once again grew curious as to what they were doing and where they were going. Varrult hadn’t made any discernible sounds or let his presence be known, leaving Nerr to suspect that the falcon had gone elsewhere. To Nerr this meant it was safe to rear his head and gaze about, past both Benphal, Astregra and Amyth to his protector, hunched over an unmoving personage.

  At first Nerr tried calling out, barking in a dragonly tone before attempting to claw the pack open wider. By then his exertions came out in squeals as he once again tried his luck in freeing himself from the confines of the pack.

  “Lil’ dragon,” a voice whispered, briefly catching Nerr’s attention. “W-why do you try to escape?”

  It was Benphal who spoke, and Nerr recognised him before answering, “I-I want my protector.” He tried again to lift himself out but his shoulder was just too wide allowing neither of his arms to poke through save for a few claws. “He’ll…he’ll give me warmth. At least I hope.”

  “But what’s wrong with your pack?” Benphal asked in his lowest tone, so as to not draw attention to himself before being silenced no doubt. “Doesn’t it provide warmth enough?”

  “But I want my protector!” Nerr again screeched, sounding rather obnoxious to the men surrounding the both of them.

  “So, Venneith” Joshein began on approach to the knight. “What are we looking at here? Just a sorry soul or something else?”

  “He’s one of yours,” Venneith answered as he stood from the body. “No doubt the Seenth was the cause of his death.”

  Maven had a chill before saying, “That’s a horrible way to go.” Already his mind escaped him as it began to dream up the very event from when the agent must’ve been walking back minding his own business. His mission may have been complete, having gained enough intel on the target in question to give a full report only to be suddenly jumped by a spider with a net of webbing strung beforehand.

  He began to wonder how helpless his struggle was. Did he feel the puncture of those long mandibles, did he feel his body go stiff as the poison ate away at his innards, all while he suffocated beneath that wrapping imprisonment? Oh how it horrid it was to think about, but all Maven could do was turn his attention elsewhere before his imagination escaped him again.

  “Can’t say we knew the man.” Joshein started with hardly an ounce of empathy in his voice. “He was a specialist from the capital is what I heard. Perhaps he was just from one town over, no one knew but our commander of course.”

  “His name is Buok Fawl,” Venneith then stated before raising to his feet.

  A bit curious and bewildered, Joshein asked, “How do you know that?”

  Turning to face the infantrymen, falconer and Narrovinnian, he held up a small notebook for them all to see. “His journal,” Venneith answered as he admired the fine leatherwork with the name pressed into the fine leather, written in golden paint on the bottom left of the cover.

  “Does it say what happened?” Maven asked.

  “If I had the chance to read it I might be capable of knowing,” Venneith proclaimed.

  “Give the knight a moment, will you?” Joshein muttered beneath his breath, loud enough for his companion to hear yet quiet enough for all others, with the scratches of the little dragon easily drowning out most smaller noises. Yet as Venneith began to finger through the pages, Joshein thought he was being sorely underutilized in the current moment, finding it odd to be standing around with no task to be given. Taking matters into his own hands he patted Maven on the shoulder, signaling as he said, “Come with me, we’ll keep watch over the road. My knight, do you condone this?”

  “Keep watch for any travelers or troublemakers,” Venneith affirmed. Tapping his temple before pointing up, he added, “And keep watch of above, will you?” That little warning was enough to make Maven shiver, much to Venneith’s amusement.

  “Don’t mind me,” Trent muttered as he haphazardly shuffled along the roadway, half bored and half anxious as he waited for Varrult to give any signal of danger or otherwise. Currently the only thing on his mind was Nerr and his occasional cry for Venneith, no doubt. He’d investigate himself if it wasn’t for that mare of the knight, but that dragon really seemed to be drawing attention to itself.

  Perhaps that’s exactly what it desired, and not too long after Trent took notice did Venneith summon Amyth and mutter something to the Narrovinnian. With a nod, Amyth walked back between the horses to the pack that lay strung across the mare’s side. After quickly fiddling with some sort of restraint, Amyth suddenly lost control of the little beast as Nerr broke free from his grip, leaping to the ground, startling Astregra yet leaving Benphal rather enthused as Nerr scurried across the path like a large rat.

  Nerr was swift indeed, but his objective was clear as he scurried to Venneith only to summit the knight and his armor, taking his place atop his shoulder. He gazed, sniffed and chirped about, happily taking interest in nearly everything, including the journal as Venneith continued to read through, starting at the latter pages for the most recent information.

  With Nerr at his side it wasn’t long before he found the entry of interest. It stated the mission, where he’d be going, how long he should take and what he might find. “Here we go, Nerr,” Venneith whispered to the dragon, glancing out of his visor to notice how Nerr took a very peculiar interest in the contents held within the pages.

  Nerr seemed to be closely engaged, watching as Venneith began to read in a hushed tone. He heard his words, distinguishing the similarities within each phrase as he eyed the characters on the pages, finding patterns, repeats and many different combinations as Venneith continued on. To Nerr this was like discovering the forest, as he found new things to take an interest in as he deciphered the forest and its nature in Nerr’s grand instinctive effort to assess, react and adapt to his surroundings. By that he gathered information constantly, and with each new discovery came one more thing to understand, as primitive as his understanding might’ve been.

  As for the writing, Nerr hardly could comprehend the correlation between Venneith’s speech and the text written on the pages. The furthest his understanding could take him was the realization that whatever was written, the knight could read. If anything, that leathery tablet stored information, yet Nerr hardly understood this either. It was an overwhelming task that Nerr strained himself over as he came face to face with something he couldn’t quit
e understand.

  What Nerr knew so far was that trees existed to be climbed. Birds existed to sing and be eaten. Eggs existed also to be eaten, though Nerr still didn’t know where they came from, while men existed to rule this world with their grand buildings and complicated social structure which Nerr hardly could come to understand quite yet. Beyond those finite, increasingly simple understandings lay questions Nerr had not yet asked, or known could be asked, leaving all which he understood to fall under known and unknown. And Nerr would be damned if he let a single unknown element fly beneath his piercing gaze.

  Yet despite his best attempts, Nerr began to understand that this…this written language was beyond him. This and the humans’ word-speech they used to communicate with one another, yet since Nerr had been exposed to word-speech since his life began, he too forgot to ask how to understand or why they understand, accepting that it just exists like the lakes and streams without him asking where they come from and what they hide within them.

  As Venneith continued to read aloud, the dragon frustrated himself knowing he couldn’t understand. As a result, Nerr unintentionally began projecting his frustration by twitching his head while making deep, brief blenching noises that resonated within his throat as his claws tightened around the knight’s armor only to occasionally reach upward and scratch the dragon’s neck rather fast as if he were striking a pestering bug. His tail flicked with agitation, his wings pulsated, threatening to cause Nerr to take flight and Nerr, not quite sure how to express himself, thought it best to do what he knew best…

  …Remove the problem.

  This next act wasn’t exactly graceful as Nerr was quite the clumsy, unfamiliar dragon when it came to fighting. As a result he couldn’t quite estimate his approach from Venneith’s shoulder to the journal which hovered within the knight’s grasp about waist-high from the knight’s kneeling position, but he was determined.

  “I’m in retreat,” Venneith quietly muttered as he began reading what had to be the last entry before the agent met his demise. “‘What I assumed to be simple road-running criminals are much more organised than I’d expected. I’ve been wounded but I’ll live. However before I was discovered I felt that there was something not quite normal about these kids. I tried to hear the words which they spoke, listened to conversations as they idled by, howev—’” The entry was cut short, with a new entry continuing on shortly afterwards, containing just two words. Its writing seemed much more erratic and hastily scribbled then the entry prior. As Venneith continued on, it simply read, “‘Meil Kuskurroff’.”

  Finally Nerr made his advancement as he leaped from the shoulder to attack the journal with an uncoordinated strike from both clawed hands. However, Venneith was quick to react, taking the journal in one hand to swiftly move it out of the way. Now Nerr only faced the dirt path to which he not so gracefully landed upon, nearly tumbling head over tail.

  “Now what has gotten into you, Nerr?” Venneith asked as he stood glaring down at the dragon. Nerr only moaned as he flashed his teeth, maw held wide open as the dragon made many rapid, shallow nods towards the knight in frustration. “Are you hungry now, is that it?” Venneith questioned as Nerr barked once before curling up in defeat at the knight’s feet, growling ever so lowly in contempt for the written language.

  Venneith, however, simply took this as confirmation. Reaching into his bag he grabbed a small slab of meat he’d stored from the stag and threw it down to Nerr before him. This was enough to take the dragon’s mind off the bitter defeat through the lack of knowledge. However, as much as Venneith would have liked to cater further to the dragon’s needs, whatever they may be, there was a much more dire matter at hand here.

  “Perch, Nerr,” Venneith commanded, tapping his shoulder with a small meat slice held between his fingers, before the dragon took notice and speedily mounted the knight. With Nerr in his place it was time Venneith addressed the current state of their situation. Raising a hand, the knight whistled so that both Maven and Joshein might hear far down the path which they had traveled and kept watch.

  Immediately afterwards, Nerr instinctively attempted to replicate the whistle as he then clawed at the visor, attempting to peer into Venneith’s helmet, pondering if his protector would do it again.

  “It seems Nerr really has grown accustomed to your presence, Venneith,” said Trent. “I say, that dragon learns faster then most birds I’ve dealt with.” Venneith only offered up a nod as Nerr continued to probe the knight for another whistle, peering into his visor, scratching at the inner plating so near to his face. “Perhaps I could begin to move the lesson further along. Yet before I forget, I don’t recall seeing Nerr fledge on his own, yes?”

  “Yes, I have yet to see him fly myself, if that’s what you ask,” Venneith answered as Nerr at once gave up in his efforts in bartering for a tune. He rested atop Venneith’s shoulder obediently as he looked about, taking in his surroundings, only to spy Varrult looming in the distance.

  “Perhaps I should pair Varrult with Nerr. That ol’ bird has helped a few other falconers and their fowls train when they lacked any proficiency.” Looking past the knight to see the infantry nearing, Trent decided to be concise for the knight’s convenience. “Perhaps we can send them off during the next half of our…ehh…thing. Mission, journey, whatever we’re doing. Consider it in the meantime, yeah?” Turning to the trees, Trent signaled only for Varrult to come swooping down, making sure to fly closer to Nerr than usual as he perched himself on Trent’s leather gauntlet.

  This little act unfortunately startled Nerr, compelling him to scuttle to the back of Venneith to hang off his opposite shoulder as he tossed scolding gazes of bitter contempt to the Gyrfalcon.

  Varrult only chuckled, asking, “Why so scared, lil’ dragon? We’re friends aren’t we?”

  “Lies,” the dragon spat. “You caused…hurt to me!”

  “Pain, you mean?” Varrult corrected. “Don’t worry, you’ll come to understand Lythre’s blessing later.” Nerr only hissed unnervingly before biting down on Venneith’s plating in worry.

  Trent only snickered. “It seems they may not get along very well,” he remarked, having heard the bitter fowl-to-dragon exchange of Varrult’s harmonious tune to Nerr’s various contemptuous growls and barks. “Perhaps Nerr is still hung up on their last exchange when they first met. The best remedy is presence, Nerr will learn it was harmless fun.”

  “Varrult has an interesting take on fun, no?” the knight rhetorically asked, leaving Trent to shrug in response as both Joshein and Maven finally came to within speaking distance to hear what Venneith had wanted to say. “I’ve gathered you round because we have quite a new development on our hands.” Holding up the journal he continued, “Buok Fowl, in his attempt to uncover the ones responsible for these caravan raids, also successfully documented the location of their hideout. Their numbers are small,” Venneith continued. “In the range of ten to forty young men, perhaps.”

  “Some would think small would be less than nine or so,” interjected Maven with conjecture.

  “Yes,” Joshein agreed. “Forty is a small army, and at this rate they may have more if they’re preying on those nearing to the call of Myndre.”

  Venneith continued, “As it stands we have vital information that could easily end their antics, and I intend to capitalize on that this very moment.”

  “Wait,” Joshein then interjected after taking a moment to consider Venneith’s proposition. “Now I don’t mean to insult you, my knight, but shouldn’t we withdraw and return with a larger force capable of dispatching such a group of juveniles?”

  Looking to the knight, Joshein realized how imposing his faceless, visor-staring glare was when the knight focused on him, yet Joshein didn’t deter himself and stayed strong to his suggestion.

  “What’s there to be afraid of?” Venneith questioned. “Is there nothing I can’t handle? Commander Jord has stated these bandits were nothing more than young men, cowards attempting to flee the call of Myn
dre. I see them as nothing but that which I describe them as: cowards, daring to commit heresy in the face of Myndre. In the face of Ioxo and in the face of our Lord on earth Mortemy! As such, if I cower then I am less than them, and you are too.”

  “Venneith, please,” Joshein began, trying to appeal to the knight by any means. “Surely we should be logistical and call for reinforcements at the very least, my knight.”

  “If logistical practices are what you value then you must sorely underestimate my ability as a knight.” Venneith was firm in his words, standing tall like an unmovable spire, holding aloft his ability to lead. “We have a duty, and by my knighthood I’ll see to it personally if I have to, or you can come hither with me and brave the bandits who themselves brave nothing but the weak. Amyth,” Venneith called. “My horse!”

  With both Astregra and Benphal’s reins in his hands, Amyth led them to Venneith. He handed Astregra over to the knight for him to take control and mount, with Nerr clinging to his armor, making a clear effort to stay out of Varrult’s line of sight.

  “Now you have a single decision to make, shall you listen,” Venneith began, looking down on the infantry as Trent and Amyth stood off to the side. “Venture back on your own and tell Jord you abandoned me, or come with and share in the fame when we return in song of how we liberated their hideaway.” With one whistle — which was swiftly mimicked by Nerr in return as he now grew excited, crawling all about Venneith’s helmet, peering into his visor — Astregra trotted on, leaving the infantry behind.

  Amyth had mounted his horse and had desired to swiftly follow suit when Trent came up to the Narrovinnian, asking, “The walk may be be long so may I ride with you?”

  He considered it for a moment, thinking first of Benphal as he hauled both he and the gutted, skinned stag, before concluding that the stallion surely could carry more with little issue. With a nod he gave the falconer his confirmation, bidding Benphal to be still as Trent roughly mounted the beast, taking the hind seat of the saddle, before riding off after Venneith, leaving the infantrymen behind.