Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  “Where are you going?” Venneith asked, gazing up to Vrueth, noticing his rather exquisite attire of fine, dark linen and golden silk. “Are you to leave me now?”

  “I have a duty to adhere to, Venneith,” Vrueth spoke as he stood tall before the knight. A staff appeared within his hand with a brief flash of light. “Unlike those who wander the plane aimlessly between here and Teuse, you know the way. Will you follow that path and take Nerr with you, or lead him astray? Ponder upon my many inquiries, Dark Armored Knight, and farewell. Pray I don’t see you soon.”

  A light, dim at first but bright the next moment, began to envelop the god of death, illuminating a plane unseen by Venneith to reveal the legions of those who had fallen from this earth and sought the gates guarded by Tuese in death. In that moment Venneith saw many men, women and children, many soldiers dressed in their fine armor, many husbands and wives clothed in their finest of dresses. Yet among them all did Venneith see the men who had fallen in the past days. He saw the ten militiamen, with Elder Utch among them, leading them along in Vrueth’s path. There were faces Venneith didn’t remember as well as names he had long since forgotten, yet among the militia were the bandits he had slain as well. Many were sullen, holding pendants, uttering names of those they had left behind as they too followed in Vrueth’s stride. Yet as soon as the multitude of legions of those who had passed appeared, they all but vanished away.

  “Protector?” the dragon squeaked as he woke. He felt and recognised the familiar sensation of Venneith’s embrace as well as the heat which he freely gave, welcoming the dragon back from his sleep to the safety of his being.

  “Hi, Nerr,” Venneith whispered to the dragon as he stood once more. From this day on he swore not to neglect Nerr any longer, leaving him to the mercy of the wilderness. He would raise Nerr as his own, he would raise him to tolerate man and be slow to find conflict to engage with. Nerr would become a protector like him, a protector of the citizens of Carthol who others could look to and fear not when he gazed upon them.

  To his immediate right, Astregra suddenly stirred and opened her eyes. She raised her head to see Venneith and immediately felt relief for she had done her part and protected her master. It was then that Venneith realised that Astregra had not been grazed by the bolt of lightning Voros had produced. She bore no mark resembling a strike of lightning branching all about her skin like Nerr. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate of Nerr, he had saved Astregra and for that she was thankful to the dragon, no longer untrusting of the little beast but kind and tolerant like she had once been many years ago.

  Looking from the dragon and to the west, Venneith found the city of stone to be gone and razed down under so that no trace of it could be found. ‘Come the twenty and first year from today,’ Venneith remembered Voros say. ‘…I will return.’

  “Come the first day of twenty and first year from today, I will be ready and Nerr shall be at my side!”

  Chapter seventeen

  A day and a half had passed since the infantrymen, falconer and Narrovinnian had beaten back and defeated their assailants, killing one and leaving the second alive. The same one they took prisoner, hauling him back atop Benphal before reaching the fort where he was taken into custody and held within a stone cell to be interrogated by none other than Joshein.

  “They’ve already fled. Gone far, far away. Perhaps beyond the realm of this world, further east where Carthol does not stretch, or simply underground. Whatever the resolve Voros took after the grand storm, you won’t find them there again.”

  “Where have they gone?”

  “Have I not already said?”

  “Where!?”

  “Hmph, I’ve told you all that I know, Joshein. How long until I’m finally made a slave and can toil carelessly away in some glorious pit of Carthol?”

  “Much later than you wish! I’ll assure you that,” murmured Joshein before he turned his back on the cell and began making his way out. Pressing past the iron bolted door, letting it swing shut behind him, Joshein took a deep breath of the fresh morning. It had been about a day and a half’s travel with them having returned near midnight with that fiend in tow.

  Denjin hadn’t struggled much, nor had he put up a fight and he was easily put in chains with no resistance whatsoever. Perhaps he was indifferent, for as he said himself, Voros had already gone. Gone and abandoned by he whom Denjin followed. It should really strike his consciousness how little that Man-Giant really valued those under him. Perhaps then the Lord of Carthol shall have mercy, yet either way he would be made a slave in time.

  “Has he said anything?” a voice called from above once Joshein reached the door of the commander’s building.

  Looking up, Joshein found Maven standing atop the wooden scaffolding, looking out over the wall to the east as always. Joshein only rubbed his neck before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. “No,” he answered. “Just that they’ve fled and nothing more. No specifics, no numbers and only one name.”

  “Voros?” Maven asked as he cast a passive, disinterested glance back to the town and its people.

  “Meil Kuskurroff,” Joshein corrected. “Anyways, I’ll be reporting to the Commander.”

  “Wait, Joshein, up here,” Maven urged as he stood from his seat, rather amused at whatever it was that caught his eye.

  “What is it?” Joshein asked as he followed up the wooden ladder to stand with Maven.

  “A few of ours be showing that stray what for,” he answered as he handed Joshein a pint.

  “You mean the Narrovinnian.”

  “Aye,” he answered before taking a drink. “Heh,” he laughed. “A good show this’ll be.” Maven and Joshein looked out to the north of the outskirts of the town where nothing but dried grass and muddied land lay alongside a muddied, deep-puddled road.

  “We have no tolerance for the likes of pirates,” the leader of this five man entourage stated as two of his accomplices dragged Amyth through the dirt before throwing him into a large, muddy puddle deep enough to swallow half one’s foreleg. They were men of Carthol, a patrol that was to keep watch within this small town itself, yet their duties seemed to come second only for the moment.

  “I’m not a Narrovinnian,” Amyth insisted as he struggled to lift himself onto his own two feet. “I’m a Carthinian! Born and raised—”

  He was punched in the face, effectively cutting away his words as he fell back on himself and into the muddied water. The man only laughed, “a Carthinian Narrovinnian? I never heard such a thing. Truly your race is delusional and simple-minded.” He nodded to one of his men. “Take his horse,” he commanded, gesturing to Benphal as the other three crowded around Amyth and began kicking and beating him. “Clearly such a fiend of Carthol has stolen it.”

  Benphal began to resist, crying out to Amyth as he pulled against the reins, fighting against his captor. “He’s mine! Don’t touch him!” Amyth shouted.

  “Silence him.”

  At his command, each of the three did their part to pin Amyth down and submerge his head beneath the muddy water with intent to drown him. Amyth tried to struggle and to free himself from their grip, yet the power of these three combined was far more than he could resist. The leader of the entourage, however, could only smile as he took comfort in knowing that Carthol will have been purged of yet another pirate of Narrovinnia.

  That was when he heard the clinking and clanking of armor as a figure approached him from behind. With mild curiosity he turned, wondering just who it might be, only to spy a darkened, armored, burnt figure standing before him. It was Venneith, the lack Armored Knight, standing with a poleaxe in one hand, the reins of his dark horse Astregra in his other, while a black little dragon bearing a white lightening strike across his body and neck stood perched upon his shoulder.

  This dragon shared its master’s gaze as the knight bore down upon the men and their antics before settling upon the man before him that was their leader. No word escaped his mouth; he only looked to them from beyond h
is emotionless visor, concealing every bit of his face and expression.

  “Why, hello,” the leader began as he looked to the knight with sheer confidence in himself, standing tall, proud and shameless before Venneith. “As you see, we’re simply clearing the land of filth. Doing our civic duty as some might say, aye?”

  The knight didn’t immediately answer as he allowed one very brief moment to pass before asking, “Do you fancy these men?” At first the leader thought he was speaking to him, yet he was proven wrong when the dragon perched atop the knight’s armored shoulder let loose with a rather low, throaty growl. “I didn’t think so,” he seemingly responded before taking the poleaxe in both hands as he advanced one step.

  “Let him go!” the leader then commanded his men in a tone that came off rather calm and collected, yet Venneith could tell by the way he stepped back that he felt threatened and only acted out in self-defence. “We are done. Let’s get back on patrol.”

  “Aye,” they all answered timidly before releasing the reins of Benphal as the three drew away from Amyth, leaving the man to gasp for air as he was once again allowed to breathe. It wasn’t long before they disappeared within the streets, out of sight of the knight and thus out of mind.

  With Benphal at Amyth’s side in worry, the knight knelt down to the man as he crawled through the mud, coughing, sputtering and gasping for air. “Thank you,” Amyth muttered once he had the breath to speak, surprised that Venneith was alive and well after all. “You…for sure saved my life once again.”

  “Aye, that would be thrice now…” Venneith passively muttered as Nerr extended himself downward to sniff at the man in the same way Benphal did to ensure his health. Extending his hand out, Venneith helped Amyth to his feet.

  “I guess that means I’m indebted to you once more,” Amyth said as he took Benphal by the reins.

  “Aye, it would seem that way…” Venneith simply stated. “I assume it would be rude of me to deny you of that debt.”

  “Such a debt would weigh on my conscience.”

  Venneith nodded. “Then by the honor of my knighthood it seems I simply I have no choice. As a man of Carthol I will allow you to relieve yourself of this debt. Whether that be in days, weeks, months or even years, so long as that by the end of it your conscience may be clear and the debt fully repaid. What say ye?”

  “I will follow you, Venneith,” Amyth answered, standing straight. “My sword is at your disposal, as is my bow and my horse. In this way shall my debt be repaid.”

  Venneith gave one look to Amyth before turning away saying, “Perhaps you should clean yourself first.”

  “Aye,” he said, looking down at his muddied self. “I-I’ll find a place to bathe…. somewhere…”

  As Venneith took his leave, taking Astregra by the reins, Benphal couldn’t help but mutter, “Hi, lil’ dragon and…st-stubborn mare.”

  “Hi, f-familiar?” Nerr responded, unsure of the beast’s name.

  That was when Astregra whispered to the dragon perched atop Venneith’s shoulder, “It’s Benphal.”

  “Be-Benphal!” Nerr corrected as he waved his head upward in excitement before the knight lead them up the road to the wooden fort ahead.

  “Do you remember my name, lil’ Nerr?” Astregra then questioned the dragon.

  “Stubborn Mare!” he answered all too quickly, hardly missing a beat.

  “Not so!” she quickly retorted, bucking her head.

  “Stubborn…Dam?” Nerr questioningly inferred.

  “Astregra,” she stated. “It’s Astregra.”

  “Ah,” Nerr then released. “Stubborn Astregra!”

  With a huff of defeat, she couldn’t help but nod her head. “Sure, lil’ dragon. That’s me, Stubborn Astregra.”

  Atop the wooden wall of the fort stood Maven who, upon seeing Venneith, the darkened knight, cheered, “Ha, the knight lives! And for the longest time I thought he had died. I almost feel like running up and giving that suit of armor a kiss.”

  “Don’t be too confident in how the knight might take that,” Joshein said as he rested one leg upon the edge, waving out to the approaching knight who in turn cast his gaze upon the familiar infantrymen. Looking down to the two guards watching over the drawbridge Joshein said, “Be sure to let that knight in. Our commander fancies a fine report after all.”

  Leaving Astregra tied to a sharpened wooden stake, Venneith marched over the drawbridge with Nerr obediently perched, anxiously looking about the familiar place as they entered. Within the fort, Nerr could tell there was quite a bit more commotion as strangers casually moved about the place as if it were an ordinary day. Some talked to one another while others swung their weapons, pulling their strikes as they practiced about. It seemed like a game to Nerr, one he could tell was of strategy, cunning and wit. It interested the dragon so much he found it hard to tear his gaze away as dull blades clashed, letting the sun glint off their smooth surfaces.

  “Ah, Joshein,” Venneith began as the infantryman was the first person to properly greet him.

  “My knight and lil’ dragon,” he addressed with a slight bow. “It’s good to see you in good health. I apologize for having left you, but I argue it was by your order.”

  “Precisely, and you followed it to the letter. However, I have to speak with Jord. But before I do, tell me, how’s the falconer keeping?”

  “Could be in better spirits,” Joshein answered. “To be honest, he believes you to be dead.”

  “He’ll know otherwise soon enough,” Venneith assured. “However, it’s Jord I must speak to first. No doubt you’ve already given your word, yes?”

  “He knows as much as I do,” Joshein nodded.

  “Good,” Venneith murmured before letting himself into the commander’s building without a knock and closing the door behind him.

  Nerr also happened to recognise this area, the gloomy dark building of the lone figure with nothing but a single flame to illuminate the room. It was rather stuffy, just as Nerr remembered, and boring too.

  Looking to Jord, who donned a rather surprised expression, speechless at the sudden unexpected presence of the knight he thought to be dead, along with his dragon, did Venneith first say, “There is a message to be delivered. First, however, I must say, those robberies only served the purpose of garnering attention, a lure, so to speak. A giant named Meil Kurskuroff, the former general of the Carthinnian army, now under the handle of Voros Ohtoros, had partaken in the teaching of Gyr and leads a collection of Myndre abandoners.”

  Jord hardly had a single moment to properly comprehend the bold, certain statements of Venneith’s claims. He had thought this knight and his dragon to be dead, but here they stood before him, leaving the commander rather speechless with a subtle, “Oh,” being all he could truly manage as the knight continued.

  “However, it’s not that he partook in the worshiping of Gyr as much as that Gyr himself favors Meil, granting him the ability to partially transform only one of his limbs in order to wield lightning. It was the same lightning that incapacitated me so that I couldn’t pursue them as they retreated to somewhere I do not know. However, don’t just take my word for it,” he explained as he held out his elbow, which Nerr recognised as a subtle command to perch himself upon his biceps. “My dragon here bears quite the striking mark upon his chest, neck and face.”

  True to Venneith’s words, there indeed was quite the mark upon Nerr. It was a white, branching streak that wrapped itself around Nerr’s side, traveled up his neck to curl above and below Nerr’s right eye. It seemed to whitewash Nerr’s dark scales, giving his figure quite the contrasting color scheme as the scales nearest to the white lines seemed to give way to the light and fade into the streak, making it seem as if the bolt of lightning itself glowed.

  “Ah,” was all Jord could manage, unsure of how to proceed before the knight.

  “Unfortunately, this isn’t the only issue the mark has brought upon Nerr, however I won’t concern you with such matters. Meil had a me
ssage and he said come the twenty and first year from today I shall return. He doesn’t believe in our Lord as he seemingly loathes the Carthinnian gods themselves, yet this is only my speculation. What he plans to do remains to be seen, yet the public will be kept blissfully unaware for their own good. Send a message, Commander,” he then commanded as he lowered his arm, letting Nerr shift back to his shoulder. “Have the Lord himself be the only one destined to hear it and tell him what I’ve told you.”

  “Y-yes…right away, my knight,” Jord began as he scrambled for a fresh sheet of parchment to begin writing.