by Corin, G.
Ramaeka
By G. Corin
To Maggie who kept me on track, my family for humouring me and the Starlight Crew both past and present.
Contents
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Prologue
It was a dawn of incredible light. The kind of light which somehow filters through to even the darkest, dampest corner, revealing the smallest of details. High in the northern mountains of the Draconian world, Amaria, its silvery touch washed across the shadowy hide of an enormous dragon perched outside a stone fortress.
Ramanae snorted in annoyance as the light played across his black hide, he much preferred the shadows, where his colour gave him the most advantage. Not that he feared any beast or dragon he thought arrogantly to himself.
His tail flicked back and forth impatiently as he waited for news from within the fortress. It was a massive and forbidding keep of black stone, built into the very mountain itself. A veritable warren, it housed close to five hundred dragons. An impressive number considering the mere size of a dragon. Ramanae was the undisputed leader within these mountains; the largest, strongest and most ambitious of all the dragons in Amaria itself. At least as far as he was concerned. In his own mind he should be the ruler of all dragons not just the small rabble collected within his mountains.
He growled in frustration, raking his claws across the dark stone. What he needed were strong, obedient dragons to follow him against the other leaders of their world. Today his mate was to produce yet another youngling to add to their collection of twenty-six, bringing him another step closer to the fulfilment of his plans. Sadly the last ten born had been a waste; none seemed to have that potential which he truly desired.
It was not as if he was worried over his mate or the child. Ramanae did not tolerate weakness; rather he merely waited to assess the possibilities of this child. If it was not deemed worthy of his blood, it would be destroyed; otherwise the youngling would be taken from its mother immediately. No child of his would be reliant on another dragon for anything, nor would they be shown any affection which might weaken them. He was determined that they would be born warriors, obedient only to their father.
The immense stone doors to the keep shuddered open. The female healer who had attended the birth strode out, clearly happy to return to the sun and air, away from the dankness of stone passageways. He scowled down at her, what was her name? Crae? Creel? In her lesser form, the form now stolen and shadowed by those ridiculous animals, humans, she looked tiny to him. He despised using his lesser form unless forced to; the resemblance to those dirty humans was nauseating. And though he would admit it to no other dragon, the size of his lesser form made him feel weak and pathetic.
Of course it was only imagined weakness, even then he was more magically gifted than any of the heathen sorcerers that humans possessed. He could physically rip a human to shreds with his bare hands.
He realised the healer was speaking and focused his attention upon her.
“They're both fine, you have another son for your brood Ramanae.”
The disapproval is clear in her eyes; she knew that he was raising his children as a private army, perhaps to one day threaten the peace of Amaria. Healers were always weak and given over to sentiment, however her nature would not allow her to fail in her duties and so she continued to attend the births of his many children.
With a cool nod, she transformed smoothly into her greater form, much smaller than his own of course, and winged her way up from the mountain.
Ramanae waited until she was out of sight before he stood, stretching out his immense wings, and entered the fortress. He followed the twists of the stone passages to the birth chamber, entering without knocking. His stone coloured mate barely looked up; she was tired from the effort of yet another birth. He ignored her and peered down at his tiny newborn son.
“He's small, and earth born too,” he growled rather annoyed. His children generally took after him or their mother in their magic, being either stone born or magic born. He was disappointed, the child looked like another wasted opportunity, perhaps it would be better to dispose of it now. The booming sound of his voice awoke his new son; he struggled weakly, opening small green eyes to peer up at his father. Ramanae growled at him, baring his immense fangs, however instead of wailing in fear as most newborns were bound to do, the infant stared straight up into his father’s eyes letting out a squeaky little growl. Ramanae couldn’t help but be impressed at his fearlessness.
He was suddenly aware of his mate watching him, waiting for his decision. Perhaps if they kept him, the babe would grow into a more fearsome beast he thought to himself.
“We will keep him for now,” he decided out loud. His mate shrugged and closed her eyes, drifting away into sleep as her mate instructed one of his older children to take the child away.
The last thing she heard as she fell into slumber was Ramanae's voice.
“Welcome to Amaria, Ramaeka.”
Chapter One
The impenetrable fortress of stone has not changed at all over the fourteen years that have passed; the light still fails to illuminate the darkness of its labyrinthine caves. Little has changed amongst the inhabitants of the fortress save that three more dragonets have been born to Ramanae and his mate, two of which passed Ramanae’s inspection.
Not that these births had brought his father any joy thought Ramaeka bitterly. In fact it had made him even more demanding of perfection within his children.
With a sigh, Ramaeka adjusted his weight slightly; blood was still dripping down his right leg. One of his sisters had been in an irate mood for some unknown, unimportant reason and had taken a dislike to the cheerful expression on his face. Though he admitted thoughtfully to himself, it may also have something to do with the jar of cave bugs he’d emptied into her bed. A thoughtful gift in anyone’s book he thought indignantly, certainly not deserving of a wounding! A black eye perhaps, but not a physical injury that would only make him weaker in his father’s eyes.
Looking down at the puddle of blood forming around his feet, he noticed it had vaguely taken on the shape of a dragon. He wished fervently that he could take his greater form; it would be easier to stand with four claws pressed against the solid stone. However his father had decided that unless they were in combat class his children would learn to cope in their lesser forms. When he was younger and had not learnt that asking questions was prohibited, he had asked his father why. The question had earned a buffet to the head from one of Ramanae’s huge claws, as he had staggered dizzily his Father roared at him.
“You obey me instantly, you don’t ask questions.”
After that Ramaeka had tried to stop asking questions and took to listening in on conversations or reading books to quench his curiosity. Privately he felt that it was easier for Ramanae to lord it over his increasingly large children when they were in a lesser form. Not that he faced that problem with Ramaeka; one of the two surviving dragonets born after him was already taller. Ramaeka scowled to himself over that, his height was a source of constant dismay to both himself and his parent.
“Ramaeka,” boomed his father’s voice. “Enter.”
The last word ended on a snarl which informed him that his father was not impressed. Gathering his courage he stood
as tall as possible and attempted to stride into his father’s cave.
His father was sitting before a gigantic raised slab of stone that acted as a desk; it was covered in books and various papers. A curious thing really Ramaeka thought, since his father disliked reading and writing. His father looked like an immense shadow; his skin was the darkest shade of black, one of the colours of a mage dragon. He was just short of five hundred meters long, one of the two largest Empara dragons. Empara was the highest level a dragon could evolve to, supposedly the height of draconic strength, intelligence and endurance. Ramaeka wasn’t too sure of his father’s intelligence, but he knew for sure of his strength, he had been on the wrong end of it many times.
Ramaeka dropped a quick bow as his father surveyed him with open contempt.
“Well?” he growled menacingly.
“Sir?” he asked enquiringly, opening his green eyes as wide as possible in an attempt to look innocent.
“What do you have to say about playing these ridiculous tricks on your brothers and sisters?” Ramanae asked coldly. “Ramalakere is not the first to come to me. Last week you used an adhesive spell to stick Ramajai and Ramakayd’s tails together during class, and that was not the first offence you have committed.”
His father paused and looked at him closely, bringing his fangs mere inches away from his face.
“What am I going to do with you, Ramaeka?” his father’s eyes gleamed cruelly. “If you were not so small and useless, this could be passed over, but you continue to disappoint me.”
Ramaeka shivered, aware that his father would dispose of him in a heartbeat, with the slightest excuse and nobody would care.
“Well sir,” he began with his brightest smile. “I may not be as fat as some of my sisters but I’m still smarter.”
“Impertinence,” his father growled. “Though at least you have some courage, it seems to be the one thing you do have.”
He paused, looking Ramaeka over intently, fierce green eyes missing nothing as Ramaeka tried not to tremble.
“See the healer about that leg then report to the kitchens, you will work there for the next three weeks.”
“Yes sir,” Ramaeka bowed and turned to leave.
“And Ramaeka.”
He turned back to look at his father questioningly.
“If I find out you have tainted the food at all, I will be serving you at the next meal, understood?”
“Completely sir.”
Relieved he retreated from the dragon’s den, taking care not to limp.
It wasn’t that bad really, Ramaeka thought optimistically as he left the healer, he was still alive, and he was working in the kitchen. Even though helping with domestic duties was seen as the work of weaker dragons, he didn’t mind. Not only did the kitchen drudges know that he couldn’t boil water without burning it, but they were also secretly fond of him. He was often fed much better than the rest of the family thanks to titbits that they fed him on both his ordered and impromptu visits into the steamy domain.
Therefore he was feeling fairly cheerful as he limped down to the main kitchen. The kitchens were the one place in the entire great fortress that could be counted on to be hot. In fact it would be almost unbearable in here if it wasn’t for the ventilation shafts that ran throughout the kitchens. Ramaeka entered the hot steamy room breathing in the delicious smells of roasting meat and baking bread. Bakara, the main cook glanced up as he wandered in, nobody could enter Bakara’s kitchens without him being aware.
“Hollair!” Ramaeka shouted the customary greeting as he approached the cook. “Oh great and noble Bakara I have resigned as a warrior in training and have come to learn the noble art of food preparation from your greatness.”
The cook snorted glancing him over in amusement.
“And how long must we suffer your presence this time little one? I have feared your return since I heard your sister screeching your name an hour or so ago.”
Ramaeka grinned at him.
“Her screeches could be heard from the other side of Amaria I’m sure, and only three weeks this time, it could be worse. And don’t call me little!” He finished with his fiercest scowl.
Rolling his eyes Bakara pointed at several baskets of tubers waiting to be peeled.
“Work on those then youngling, and do not dare go anywhere near the food being cooked, it is not just you who will be punished if the sweet course has pepper in it again.”
Ducking his head sheepishly, Ramaeka moved over to the baskets and sat down as the cook bustled away. He had genuinely thought that it was nutmeg, not pepper.
Really to be fair, being tall and cooking were the only two things that he was bad at. He was magically powerful for his age and element, strong and fast for his size, and definitely a lot smarter than most of his family. He had even gone beyond the basic reading and writing that his father allowed in his children’s schooling. Of course that was because he had broken into his father’s library in an attempt to find a spell that would make him grow a little faster. He had never found that spell, but he had delved into several complicated and fascinating tomes that had taught him spells, such as how to turn someone’s hair different colours, how to change water into wine and how to call up fire. He’d beaten several of his larger and older siblings in fights on the training field as well, but still there was no pleasing his father. Ramanae wanted huge intimidating dragons for his army; mindless followers who would instantly do anything that he commanded. Ramaeka, unfortunately, was not overly good at following orders without asking why, a trait his father hated.
Bakara dismissed him once dinner was finished; Ramaeka was allowed to eat in the kitchen rather than with the family. This was supposed to be a punishment but Ramaeka saw it more as a reward since his family was so horrible anyway. As he curled up in his sleeping cave for the night, Ramaeka wished that something exciting would happen soon, if only to keep him from expiring of boredom. It was bad when he got bored; ideas had a way of popping up in his mind that seemed good but always seemed to get out of hand in application.
It seemed as if Rama the creator had heard his wish when a mere two days later, as he once again spent his morning before classes peeling his way through a mountain of tubers, his musings were interrupted as his mother strode into the kitchen. She glanced sourly at him then continued past as if he wasn’t there. He continued to slice the skin off the tubers, too used to her attitude to care.
“Bakara,” she screeched. “Come here this instance.”
Bakara was already hurrying into the cave from one of the smaller cooking chambers.
“Lady?” he enquired. “Is something amiss?”
Ramaeka listened intently while pretending to be completely absorbed in his task, when you were small and prone to being picked on like he was, you picked up any information you could. It often proved useful in protecting himself from whichever of his siblings was in a bad mood.
“Ramanae has just been informed that the Conclave will be held here next week. Empara Dragon Grean’s halls were damaged in a storm and he is unable to hold the meeting there.”
Ramaeka peeked up through his brown fringe at his mother; she was pacing agitatedly back and forth.
“Only one week to get everything ready! And Ramanae is insisting that we have a proper banquet with fourteen courses! And he wants the entire place cleaned and perfect!”
“My Lady, leave the cooking with me, I will create a menu and then discuss it with you,” Bakara smiled down at the near frantic dragon. “After all you have so much to do getting everything else organised.”
“Of course that’s exactly what I was going to tell you,” she snapped. “I will expect the menu by tomorrow morning.”
With that she turned and stalked out, muttering under her breath.
Ramaeka immediately looked up, his heart pounding with excitement.
“The Conclave Bakara! All the most powerful dragons are coming here!” he squeaked in excitement.
“Yes little one, it
would seem so,” the cook frowned. “This is going to be a lot of work.”
Ramaeka ignored his comment, almost bouncing as he went back to work on the tubers with refreshed vigour. The greatest of all dragons were coming here! To his home! To discuss matters important to all of Amaria! He desperately wished that he could watch the meeting. Hearing the wisdom of the great dragons was something many dragons longed for though most never had the chance to attend such a meeting.
He dropped a tuber and frowned, why couldn’t he listen in on the meeting? If his father was anything to go by the other Empara’s wouldn’t even consider the idea that a scrawny little dragon might be hidden in the room. They would be on the watch for the adolescent dragons who were nosier than they should be. He just needed to find a good small hiding space so he could listen in on the proceedings. Picking up the escaped tuber, he gazed thoughtfully over the steamy kitchen, the smell of cooking food almost overwhelming his sensitive nose. Absently he watched the steam rise, he couldn’t hide under the table, he would be seen instantly. The draperies hanging on the walls of the main hall were an option, but the slightest movement would attract the attention of one of the dragons, plus he would be close to the table and they could easily pick up his scent. He sighed, it would be near impossible to hide in the hall, even if he found and cast some kind of concealing spell, his magic would probably be detected by the more powerful dragons. This was something he would have to think about.
He was still musing over possibilities half an hour later when Bakara nudged him with his foot.
“Classes,” he reminded Ramaeka before waving a kitchen hand over to start hauling away the tubers.
Ramaeka thanked Bakara profusely before rushing out of the kitchens. Being late for class was a really bad idea and not just because he hated missing out on learning something new. Panting he fell in behind the last of his classmates who were trailing into the classroom.
