Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  Much like Varrult, Astregra had kept her gaze stuck to the horizon beyond the trees where she could not see. Yet having been called she couldn’t help but look lazily, dragging her head along with disinterest. With locks of hair within her vision, she could glimpse that barn horse with the tiny fiend atop his head.

  She could only tisk, throwing her head up with disinterest while muttering, “Childish.”

  Her gaze returning one thousand miles beyond the foliage, Benphal again snickered, glancing from Astregra to Amyth, awaiting his reaction too. His master couldn’t help but smile and laugh quietly. “Exceedingly fine hat, Benf,” he said with a thumbs-up.

  “O-okay, lil’ dragon,” Benphal said. “It’s time for you to go. Don’t keep your master waiting, it’s always important to be obedient.”

  “C’mon, Nerr,” Varrult insisted, a cool grin adorning his face. “It’ll be a riot! You and me, feathers and scales, beak and teeth! Are you looking for fun, Nerr? Because we’ll be a riot!” It was as if he wanted to be pleasant, yet his demeanor and subconscious attitude inhibited that. Yet again, Nerr was naive indeed, and he was quick to forget the transgression Varrult had made.

  “F-fun? Yes, I-I can fun!” Nerr answered, a bit excited yet unsure how to take to Varrult.

  “Ouf, you’ll have to fortify his beast speech,” Benphal added as he began to raise Nerr to the lowest of branches.

  “A task I can deal with like I have before with other…protégés, let’s say.”

  *“Progeges*?” Nerr questioned, butchering the phrase as he climbed from one branch to the next, on higher until he reached Varrult. “What’s that?”

  Now standing just before the gyrfalcon, Nerr looked up to see Varrult standing high above him before the canvas of the blue sky, tainted only by the clouds of white that defied the laws of logic and reason as they hung in the air only to catch the light of the sun to reflect a blinding, silvery essence. They reminded the little dragon of Varrult and how he always hung in the air atop trees or his own wings as the sun caught in his silvery-grey, speckled feathers to reflect the same awe-striking shine Nerr found so attractive.

  “Oh, Nerr,” Varrult said, lowering his beak to Nerr’s level. “A protégé is exactly what you are. Learning, listening and watching as you gather up intel on your surroundings to better your knowledge. That alone is admirable, and for that you’ll learn from me and we’ll find this waypoint together!”

  “W-waypoint?” Nerr simply questioned.

  Having given such an eccentric performance, it was all Varrult could do to hang his head in disappointment as Nerr simply failed to understand maybe most of what he said or draw any inspiration from it. How was he supposed to be something the little dragon could follow if he understood nothing he said or did?

  “Whatever,” Varrult said, half to himself. “Your beast speech is muck, Nerr, but we’ll remedy that in no time. For now you’ll follow. You understand follow, yes?”

  Nerr nodded his head, shifting his stance in excitement before suddenly chirping in response.

  “Good, now follow!” Varrult commanded as he took flight, hovering just over the little dragon before thrusting back and taking to the west as he soared as slowly as his wings would allow. “Take to me by air or by branch, but I doubt you’re capable of being borne by your own wings yet so branch it may be, yes?” He only looked back to see Nerr hopping along, not as fast but just as agile as any other ground-dwelling varmint that Varrult killed. He was like a rabbit through the trees, if rabbits were black-scaled, clad with claws and laden with sharp teeth, but oh how Varrult craved the murder of a particularly timid rabbit. However, the gyrfalcon just couldn’t wait. It was a perfect day for some gamely murder and with a task on the side, he excited himself to see Nerr kill before his very eyes.

  Oh how savage he might be, being the beastly son of Exphian Nerr was. The way he would’ve ripped, torn and bitten would be quite a scene indeed, but not now. Oh how it pained Varrult that it’d have to wait. For now he’d be looking for the rock formation and mentoring Nerr on subservience toward man, for no doubt Nerr would be rebellious, as young as he was, like all falcons Varrult taught in their young stages of confusion, naive and simple unknowing.

  So many questions to be had for such a long lifetime ahead. And even those who lived that lifetime only gained many, many more in the course of a single session of one activity many a wise man has refrained from engaging in. The activity of thinking; a fickle little thing to engage in, for what had been truth often became muddled in confusion if not lies. Friends become enemies while enemies lose their edge, just as contenders gain an ounce of sympathy or empathy or any essence in relation to humanity.

  Sadly, often in moments when unrest becomes rest and the only blades drawn are trowels as they toil in dirt, before the battle and after the chaos, questions are asked. The questions every monarchy fears, every dynasty, republic, leader, general and king fears…who, why and how? Never mind where and what, it’s always action that is called into question which builds the foundations of coups, rebellion marking upheaval which brings forth downfall.

  Though thinking isn’t always so laced with insidious intent. Often it’s healthy, there is truth in that. However, no matter what may befall the sacred ritual of a good think, there’s always that epiphany, that revelation, that understanding one may gain that turns them against the world, forcing them to vow for its very destruction, razing everything in their path until nothing but ash remains, which leaving a new foundation for a new world, another civilization and culture. A new start and one last chance.

  It was during this time of inaction as Joshein and Maven feasted on the meat of the stag, awaiting their next instructions, that Maven made quite the unexpected inquiry. It was a question that had ebbed at his mind for quite a while yet one he put off regardless as the chant of Navy oar men filled his head. It was one particular ending of many, many various verses that struck Maven as rather odd, prompting him to think in such a manner.

  ‘By the word of our lord, we’ll fight this war, for he is the king that be - Don’t think, just…’ it had ended before the same chorus consisting of only four words came next with each beat of the drums and pull of the oars. ‘…row,’ and, ‘row,’ and, ’row,’ and, ‘row.’

  Yet such a simple demand wouldn’t suffice and casting a glance to Joshein, who was all too content with simply keeping watch, did Maven ask, “Why do we fight?”

  “Excuse me?” Joshein simply asked.

  “The second Xanthian war,” he clarified. “Why is it we fight once more?”

  “Wasn’t it pirates?” Joshein half inquired but more so stated before he insisted, “No, yes, it was said that Narrovinnia had funded pirates to undermine the trade routes and steal Carthinnian naval technology and ship designs. It seems they hadn’t done too well in either half of that claim,” he huffed with laughter. “Especially since their ships still remain small but agile. They have nothing that can match Carthol’s navy but the suicidal bints on their dinkie little rafts… Damn fiend sunk us on our first voyage with one explosion.”

  “Hehe, yeah, glad I didn’t drown with the ship,” Maven remembered with amusement before asking, “but why had it begun? Not just this Xanthian war, but also the first. What could have happened then to provoke such an indignant action that started the war?”

  “Aye, my friend,” Joshein began, finding it strange how his peer questioned something that seemed rather commonly known. “I know literacy and history isn’t valued or typically taught and provided by our armies, but surely you know? It was the Narrovinnians,” he boldly stated before expounding on his claim. “They butchered our colonial ancestors without so much as a call to a diplomatic summit. They spared no man, woman or child on the beaches of Narrovinnia that day, causing the first Xanthian war. Since then nothing much has changed, they fortify their beaches…”

  “We attack with a large land invasion,” Maven added.

  “We pillage across their land,” J
oshein continued.

  “And then get beaten back to the sea,” Maven ended. “I guess that’s just how it’s always been, aye?”

  “Aye, but we won’t give them the Xanthian. If anything we can assure them that. But enough talk,” he then suddenly said. “We’ll continue patrolling until we’re told otherwise.”

  “Err, yes! Will do…”

  It was best to always be vigilant. One never knows when a creature, a being, might be lurking beneath the canopy of leaves, brush or any number of things one can find in a forest. A lone brown-haired rabbit, for example, can be easy game if it is not aware and constantly vigilant for his own good. He would never see a lurking dragon, blackened by its scales, with eyes as yellow as embers, claws as sharp as razors, teeth as pointed spears.

  It was the prize and the prize was his calling, his birthright to claim, as it stood there so unaware, vigilant but unknowing of the danger that lurked just above it, watching, stalking and listening. Nerr excited himself. It was his, it was promised, and what better time was there than this, when its head was lowered and it looked not up but to the earth, where it would lay pinned for the rest of its unsavory life.

  He was sure the time to pounce was now, yet he was timid. He looked to Varrult, looming just overhead as he observed with a piercing gaze, and having met his eyes the gyrfalcon gave his permission all too enthusiastically, muttering, “Kill it.”

  There was little after that which could quickly be comprehended. Nerr had been primed for the lunge, wings outstretched, tail extended with his back arched for the pounce. He dived for the furry creature, claws aimed to land on either side, his maw wide open, aimed for any bit of flesh it could clamp onto, and Nerr did with a thunderous landing.

  He gained purchase as he descended on his prey, burying his teeth in its back. He restrained the beast with both arms, digging each claw into the underbelly of his game. The rabbit soon let loose a cry, a wailing that pierced Nerr’s instincts, further compelling him to tighten his grip and harshen the crush between his maw until a single crack rang out, leaving the rabbit’s hind legs to go limp, falling to inaction permanently. Oh, but the wailing never ceased as Varrult joined in with chanting as he cheered the dragon, shouting his encouragement.

  “Haha, It’s Yours, Nerr! Make It Suffer While It Still Lives! Make It Regret Ever Having Transgressed This Natural World In Such A Weak, Defenseless Form, Unable To Fight, Unable To Kill. Tear into The Underbelly Of The Weak! Expose That Which It Holds Within and Feast On Its Innards While Its Heart Still Beats, While It Still Screams, for its Cry Will Be Music to Your Ears, A Soothing Tune For When You Sleep! Never Let It Taste Death Till You Say And Stain The Grass With the Blood It so Graciously Spills As you Feast. You’re A Beast, Nerr! A Killer! Embrace Lythre And Partake In What She’s Given So Freely!”

  As Varrult’s cries fell to insidious laughter, Nerr carried out his demands to the letter, ripping and ever so precisely tearing, as he dared not make a mistake. The encounter felt like it lasted hours, with his little victim screaming incessantly, loudly and annoyingly, until the dragon lay caked in blood, both across his teeth and claws, whereas the rabbit let blood no more, having exceeded any reserves it may have had.

  “Can you feel that Nerr?” Varrult questioned once he landed ever so gracefully to loom above the dragon. “That…that jittery feeling, that one of unrest even when the game has been ended and your victim lies dead. It’s not fear though, you may tell. It boils up within, begins in your gut and resonates through your soul until you stand triumphant And Let It All Out! Roar, Nerr! Let The World Know of Your Victory! You Are Fire, You Are Death!”

  Looking down upon his prey, Nerr did feel it. It was precisely as Varrult had explained as it began in his gut before spreading through his body to where it welled up within his throat. He couldn’t stop it; it was pure instinct as it was the nature of all beasts.

  Looking down upon his prey, he gave it one last call. It was permission as he roared, “Die!”

  Oh, how mighty it sounded, not a crack within that single long note that dragon sang. It satisfied Varrult, made his feathers tingle and ruffle with satisfaction. “That’s it, Nerr,” he whispered. “You’ve done good, Nerr, so feast the way Lythre intended.”

  As if Nerr wasn’t content with doing exactly that as he happily nibbled away at the bones and places of exposed flesh to get to that succulent meat worn all around the carcass. “T-Thanks, Va-Varruld!” he said between bites.

  “Oh, but steady, Nerr,” Varrult insisted as he neared the carcass. “Now, a rabbit requires quite a different approach when feasting, you see.”

  Nerr only tilted his head before taking another bloody mouthful from the hind leg. “What do you m-mean?”

  “You’ll be eating mostly muscle if the meat is what you fancy, but that’s not what you’re after.” Stalking up to the game, he lowered his talons before picking up one of the numerous entrails that had been gouged from the body of the rabbit. “Aw, you see this long lil’ noodle, they’d be nice in fat, sames here with that liver,” he showed Nerr, picking it up in his talons before dispensing it directly into Nerr’s mouth. “Have a taste there, what do you think?”

  “M-meat’s good an’ s-sweet!” he said, tossing it from tooth to tooth within his maw as his tongue lapped at the blood-soaked liver. After he finished he began fingering through the innards as he poked his muzzle in, sniffing, before looking up to find any signs of Varrult’s approval before eating.

  “Aye, have a go,” Varrult insisted. “You’ll gain a taste for the good things and the unsavory things too. The ones you oughta avoid you’ll figure, for sure,” he muttered, chuckling to himself. “But be hasty, we still have our task.”

  “Task?” Nerr asked before taking yet another mouthful.

  “Oh yes, fun and games can be had, but our masters come first and foremost. Yet I often can’t tarry from a good slaughter when the opportunity rears, hehe.” Varrult craned his neck, taking a quick survey of his surroundings as he often did. Nothing seemed to be stirring as fortune would have it. Just a little longer and Nerr may be full. To continue a little small talk might be healthy for the dragon . “Nerr, friend!” Varrult began. “Now, I met many a bird before, some friends, others food, yet of those I find as friends never once I have I met a dragon.”

  Nerr suddenly raised a tilted head to Varrult out of curiosity.

  Again Varrult looked about; still nothing but he was getting itchy, finding the ground to be rather…unsuitable to his effectiveness. “Ah, let’s get up high and summit that there tree, yeah? We can talk then.”

  “B-but m-my kill,” Nerr said as he clawed at what was left, picking away bones and such.

  “You’re well fed,” Varrult insisted before spreading his wings to pulse off the ground and fly up into a tree for Nerr to see. “Now come!”

  Nerr gazed high above to Varrult peering back down. With one last look to the scattered carcas, Nerr decided that yeah, he really was well fed. “I-I come now, Varruld!” he called as he began up the trunk, digging each claw deep into the crags of the bark as he hoisted himself up one pull at a time. Not long after he began did he sumit the top to see Varrult waiting for him, to which Nerr said, “I come now!”

  “Yes, you did make it,” Varrult congratulated. “Now we’re to carry out what we came for. You remember what I said, do ya?”

  Nerr first tilted his head as he thought back attempting to remember . A short moment later and the dragon shook his head in denial.

  “Oh, well then…I recollect what my master said. I won’t worry you over having to remember so just follow my lead, yeah?”

  Varrult had begun leading as he neared the tip of a branch, looking about when Nerr asked, “You u-understand your master’s tongue?”

  “Man-speech? Of course,” he simply answered.

  “How?”

  “Oh, Nerr. You’re so young, aren’t you, lil’ buck?” he kindly jested before answering. “When you spend your whole life ’round
man and the likes, you learn to pick up on their speech. Daft to think I could ever manipulate my beak to produce any sounds similar, but I understand and my master understands that I understand, understand?” Again Nerr tilted his head before shaking it in denial. “When I was a lil’ lad same as my master, he’d read these books. Strange things at first, I tell you, filled with scribbles and scrabbles, but they had meanings, patterns, Nerr. I think I recall you looking at one with your master, yeah?”

  “You mean my protec…pro-protector?” Nerr questioned.

  “Yeah…yeah, your protector, Nerr,” the gyrfalcon agreed. “Well, if you wished to be well versed in their tongue, have that cataphract read a lil’ to ya, buck. You do want to know, yes?”

  “Yes, yes, I’d like to understand, yes!” Nerr answered, shaking his head rapidly.

  “Then you’ll remember. In the meantime we have our search, but let me not forget, Nerr. You don’t know how to search, do you?” Once more Nerr shook his head. It seemed Varrult would be teaching this dragon a little more than usual today, but at least Nerr was quite the proficient hunter indeed. However, in this case it wasn’t something living he and the gyrfalcon were after, but rather something quite inanimate and unthinking. “Well, Nerr,” he began. “First thing is to always get as high aloft as you can manage. Let’s see you try, shall we?”

  As Varrult turned his back, expecting the dragon to leap from the branch and either take flight or quite the fall. However Varrult became quite confused shen the dragon attempted neither. “N-Nerr,” Varrult sputtered as he suddenly struggled to keep his balance. “What are you doing?”

  “The highest I am the furthest I see!” Nerr chanted as he found his perch atop the gyrfalcon’s back, before eyeing across the tree-filled land with hills and mountains all about. “I can see the woods, Varrult! Many, many woods!”