Aeclatia

The bright days of Aeclatia had faded from memory. The time of the unified cities was past, and the era of the Dragon King had ended. The years that had followed were dark, with each city existing in solitude and fear, ruled by the same lords who orchestrated the killing of the Dragon King Dammond and his family. The dragons had scattered, fearful for their lives as the cities continued to hunt them even after the King had fallen.

With each subsequent Dragon killed, the cities of man celebrated.

***

The young girl whimpered as she awoke in the mud. Her small arms pushed at the sloppy, wet ground, trying to return her body upright. She looked down at her arms, and tilted her head at the strange brown color they had taken. They did not resemble the arms she remembered. Why were they not clean, white, soft?

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the forest, her young memory began to slowly return. The wagon came into view, tipped on its side. A limp hand, more similar to the white skin she remembered, lay still reaching out the side. The girl started crawling towards the hand. A blue ruffled sleeve, torn with red patches, came into view. Tears began to well in the young girl’s eyes. The maternal instincts of a child and its mother came flooding into her. She let out a hoarse, soft cry. And curled up against her mother’s cold, lifeless body inside the toppled wagon.

The rain had resumed, and even from within the wagon the water fell to her skin. It mixed with her tears, dampening her face and body. She gripped her mother’s arm, and the grime slowly washed away from her skin. She smiled at seeing her true form come back into being, against the same skin of her kin. Her breathing slowed, and in the rhythmic puttering of the rain, she fell asleep.

When she awoke, the rain had stopped, but the air was still damp. She stirred slowly, hunger pangs shooting from her stomach. She had no idea how much time had passed - after all, the young child didn’t even have a concept of time - but her primal instinct of needing food took over. She crawled out from the wagon.

She made her way to the nearest bush she could find and began gnawing at the leaves. She spit them out, sneering at the bitterness. It was then she heard a crunching of leaves from nearby. She turned her head as quickly as she could, and her eyes went wide. Not immediately with fear, but with shock and awe. A massive creature stood arched before her, its long neck swooning down to reach her level on the ground. A single large, emerald eye came within inches of her own. The dragon breathed out warm air, and the young girl’s mouth drooled at the scent of the last thing the dragon had eaten.

The dragon reached its long neck back up to its full height, looking around at the forest. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. He looked back down at the toddler, who was staring up, fixated. Returning to her level, the dragon noticed the toppled wagon and the lifeless body reaching out. He gently moved his massive head around to investigate more, and with one quick sniff he realized the grave situation the young girl was in. The dragon opened up its claw and flipped the backside to the ground. Almost instinctively, the girl began to crawl towards the open area between the great talons. She pulled her chubby body up onto the soft underside of the scales, relishing in the warmth of the dragon as it gently closed its claw around the child. And then, with an effortless jump, the dragon sprang into the air and flew beyond the tops of the trees, away in the early morning of the dawn.

***10 years later***

Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her plain green tunic hung loosely from her shoulders. It was the only piece of clothing that she owned. She scratched at the ancient garment as it itched her skin. She hated wearing it; she much preferred being back in the forest naked. Skyra didn’t care. And why should he. Dragons don’t wear old, itchy tunics.

She walked slowly down the cobblestone street, her head swiveling to stare at the buildings. In all her many visits to the city, she always found herself surprised at the bustle. Women beating clothes out of second or third story windows. Farmers offering shiny, fresh vegetables from carts. Thinly dressed women with paint on their faces smiling seductively from dark alleys.

She took in a breath. The city smells were strange and foreign to her. A mix of warmth and food, trash and piss, sweat and blood. Out in the forest, the air was clean and fresh. Even more so on the few nights Skyra and her would fly up into the sky and she’d stare down at the buildings that look so large now, but so tiny from up there.

Turning a corner, she kept on. She was in the city for only one reason: to see Tane. That was the sole reason she ever came into the city. Ever since she was a young girl, after she found Skyra - or rather, Skyra found her - she had only trusted one other person: Tane. He had found her digging in the trash one night looking for food. She must’ve been only four or five, she barely remembered. But he was kind and gave her warm bread. She didn’t even speak the native tongue back then. It took nearly a year for her to trust Tane enough to follow him back to the small inn he ran in the city. And over the next few years, she would visit often, and began to learn to speak.

But even now, years later, Tane didn’t know about Skyra.

She would visit Tane once a week or so, help him with projects around the inn, and enjoy a warm meal. Much better than the rabbit and squirrel and other small rodents Skyra would bring her. Try as she did, freshly baked bread and meat stewed over a fire just simply tasted better. She was human after all.

Tane was also just someone to talk to. The only person she had to talk to. Despite having a deep connection to Skyra, they could only communicate so much. Tane had taught her how to speak the human tongue, and she enjoyed their lengthy conversations about life, and the various going-ons across Aeclatia. Tane would tell her the stories of the land’s history, of the cities and lords who ruled them, and the stories of King Dammond and his great dragons. Those were her favorites.

And perhaps most importantly, Tane had helped her come up with her name.

She threw open the old wooden door, her enthusiasm apparent in the thud it made on the cold stone wall.

“Tane you old man! I’m here!”

The innkeeper made a muffled noise from a room beyond the inn’s main hall. She could hear the clanging of pots and pans. She walked over to a worn oil painting of Aeclationous, the old capital where King Dammond once ruled. A city where dragons flew freely amongst people, without fear of being hunted down. A city that was no more.

“Flor, is that you?” Tane emerged from behind a curtain. He held a large, rusted pot, with smaller pots under each arm. “Good to see you!”

Flor smiled. Tane’s deep, hearty voice could light up any room. And his smile was truly infectious. If she only ever had two friends in this world - Skyra and Tane - she could live and die happily.

“Getting ready to cook me something delicious?” Flor asked, leaning over the edge of the bar to see what vegetables and herbs Tane had gathered.

“Oh, is that something you might be interested in, young lady?” Tane’s eyebrows raised as he set the pot down and leaned on the bar, smiling down at Flor.

Flor jumped off the stool and gave the man a big hug, her short arms barely reaching halfway around his large belly.

“We have got to get you a new tunic. This thing is basically a rag!”

Flor shoved back from Tane, rolling her eyes. “Please, you know I detest clothes. I much prefer living without them in the forest.”

Tane’s smile faded slightly at hearing that. They had many times discussed Flor coming to live at the inn. But Tane had long since given up the argument - try as he had, he was not the girl’s father, and she was insistent on sticking to her way of life. He once tried to follow her, but she caught him just at the edge of the city. She was so angry she didn’t visit for three months. He realized that keeping her trust meant allowing the young girl of the forest to live as she pleased.

“Yes, well, here in Acovale, we live in a civilized society. And that means wearing clothes. Sleeping in houses. You know, things of that nature!” Tane laughed as he began to cut up the carrots from the basket behind the bar. He may not have been the most educated man in town, but he could cook a mean stew.

“Yeah, yeah. You and your ‘civilized’ society.” Flor’s signature sarcasm shined through her tone as her slender fingers made quotes in the air.

“Why don’t you come around here and help me cut up some onions?” Tane put the knife down and pulled out a bag of plump, yellow onions. “I’ve got to go around back and get some pork.”

Flor moved around and picked up the knife as Tane left through the curtained doorway. She began cutting the onions, slowly, methodologically. She glanced back up at the painting of Aeclationous, and began day dreaming of flying around the spires of the great capital city. Looking out at other dragons and the princes and princesses flying them, members of King Dammond’s family.

She was so deep in her daydream she almost didn’t hear the thud of the wooden door softly open and rebound against the stone wall.

“Innkeep, are you open for a drink?”

A light hearted man’s voice rang through the room. Flor was so startled that she dropped the knife, but immediately bent down to pick it back up, gripping it tightly.

“We’re closed.” Her voice was strong, hard. Older sounding than one would expect from her obviously young age.

Flor glared out at the young man as he continued on into the inn’s hall. He was taller than her, but not much older - perhaps fifteen or sixteen (though to be fair, Flor didn’t know her actual age). He wore a dark navy tunic with an golden crest centered in the fabric. The garment looked clean and expensive. He must be a Lord’s son.

“I just fancy an ale, if you could spare me one. I haven’t had a quiet moment to think all day, and this is exactly the type of place I was hoping to find. I-”

“I said we’re closed.” Flor cut the boy off. She gripped the knife even tighter. Flor only visited Tane’s inn in the mornings and early afternoons, when there would be no customers around save for a lonely patron who was staying upstairs. She preferred it that way. Flor had no interest in making new acquaintances.

“Someone there?” Tane’s voice broke the tense silence, as he emerged with a large slab of meat thrown over his shoulder. Noticing the boy’s clean, regal attire, Tane immediately began to smile. “Welcome to the Fiddle Inn good sir. Can I help you? Looking for a bed for the night?”

The boy smiled, and continued approaching the bar. He glanced from Flor to Tane, smiling wider in an effort to quell the girl’s clear unease.

“No sir, just a cold ale and a quiet place to sit. I’ve come in to Acovale a few days ago from Tradewharf. And I’ve been stuck with my dreaded family for days on end. Peace and quiet, and a respite from my father and mother’s bickering, is all I seek.”

“Well, we’re closed,” Flor said, her voice firm. She looked up at Tane. “Aren’t we, Tane?”

“Well, Flor, I’m sure we can help this young man out with an ale and some quiet space. As long as he doesn’t mind us preparing this stew and carrying on about our tasks?” Tane’s jolly smile eased the young man.

“Not at all! I much appreciate it. Name is Calix.” The young man held out his hand to Tane’s, who shook it and introduced himself. When he reached out to Flor, she turned abruptly away.

“Tane, I have to go,” she said, tossing the knife down with a clammer on the bar.

“You’ll miss the stew, Flor!” he called out, but she had already bounded across the inn’s hall. A moment later, she was gone, slipping through the door.

“Is that your daughter?” Calix asked as Tane placed a ceramic mug filled with ale in front of him.

“Oh lord no,” Tane answered. “Flor is her own master.” Tane chuckled to himself at the thought of being mistaken as Flor’s father as he picked up the knife and resumed cutting the onions.

*****

Flor hopped her way through the streets of Acovale, lithely bouncing through the crowds of people milling about. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Tane at the Fiddle Inn, she hated being inside for so long. The dark, musty inn hall made her feel claustrophobic. As she bounded down the streets towards the city’s edge, she felt more and more free. Once she reached the forest, her grin spread from ear to ear. She breathed in the crisp autumn air and set off through the trees.

Once she had ventured sufficiently deep into the forest, she called out to Skyra. She knew the dragon’s hearing was superb. She continued on until she felt a gust of air push through the trees, emanating from beyond a ridge. As she emerged into clearing, the great green dragon sat licking his claws.

Skyra was a massive creature. His body alone was nearly half the height of the tallest trees, and when he stretched his great neck out, he could almost reach the forest’s canopy. His scales were a dark, rich green, which matched his bright, emerald eye.

He swooped his head down to see Flor, and the two touched foreheads.

“Oh Skyra, I missed you,” Flor said, her voice soft.

The dragon rumbled in response. Skyra pulled his great head back and spun his neck to another corner of the clearing. He returned with several rabbits clenched within his teeth.

“Rabbit? You shouldn’t have!” Flor smiled as she watched Skyra drop the dead animals at her feat. With a brief snort, a flame shot out from Skyra’s nostrils, roasting the rabbits immediately. She hummed a tune she had overheard in Acovale as she picked the meat off and began to eat. Skyra returned to the task of cleaning his talons.

And so went about a typical day for the pair. Flor speaking her thoughts aloud to the dragon, who would snort and rumble in response. Despite the lack of direct conversation, Flor and Skyra understood each other on an innate level. It was an instinctual bond that they had developed, with Skyra able to detect Flor’s subdued emotions, and Flor able to understand Skyra’s varied responses between the subtle nuances of his snorts and rumbles.

After eating her fill of the rabbits, Flor cuddled into the corner between Skyra’s belly and his wing. The heat of the dragon’s body warmed her core, and within minutes she was fast asleep, as the great dragon protectively covered the young girl with his wing.

***

Flor waited a full week before returning to Acovale. The thought of seeing Calix had her uneasy. There was something about him that she was highly distrustful of, though as she pondered what that reason was, she admittedly realized she was distrustful of nearly all people. But something about Calix had her on an extra edge.

But she soon found herself craving Tane’s stew, and worse her sole tunic was so frayed that she simply couldn’t avoid putting off replacing it any longer. Tane tried to give her money for the chores she helped him with around the inn, but she always refused. On the rare occasions when she needed to make a purchase, she would ask Tane for the money. ‘Cashing in’ he would call it, though she didn’t understand what that meant.

Despite the sun being out and shining, the day was cold. Winter would soon arrive in the Acovale valley. She had learned that Acovale was in the Northeastern corner of Aeclatia, and had some of the harsher winters compared with other towns and cities. Aeclationous, when it had stood as the land’s capital, had sat squarely in the center of the formerly united country.

Acovale was bustling despite being early in the day. When she got to the Inn, she was surprised to see the hall fairly busy. The center table was taken by a group of men, each looking very intense. Tane was behind the bar preparing food for the guests he likely wasn’t expecting so early in the day. A few other men stood around the table intently listening, including Calix who leaned against a wooden pillar.

Flor stayed close to the hall’s perimeter as she made her way to Tane.

“Flor! Good to see you. I could really use the help. Could you dice up these onions? I have to run and get some more meat. These are important men from Lords’ houses, and they’re ready to eat an entire banquet’s amount of food.” Tane’s voice was a hush, clearly not wanting to distract the men in heavy conversation.

Flor nodded in agreement and picked up the knife. Tane clearly was too busy to handle her business right now, and she would feel bad leaving him in his stress. She began cutting the onion. She kept her eyes down, but perked her ears as she eavesdropped on the conversation. As she listened, she couldn’t help but steal glances at the men to see which voice matched which man.

“...Lord Tedric believes himself to be better liked than he is. He’s a small man who will stab anyone in the back to get what he wants. We cannot let him get away with this!”

Several of the men around the table raised their glasses in agreement to the man who finished speaking, a burly fellow with a long unkept beard.

“While I wish to agree, Hewet,” a man who had not raised up his mug said, “Tedric has many alliesl Many across Aeclatia believe he could be the first to unite the cities in decades. And many rely on Mightfalls for their grain. Tedric wields more influence than you are admitting.”

Hewet’s brow furrowed in frustration at the other man’s comment.

“Well, Jarin, if Tedric does indeed take control of Westwich, I say we ride down to Mightfalls and set fire to his fields. After all, he has not discussed any of his plans with the council of lords. He is nearly declaring war!”

Nods of agreement came from the table towards Hewet. Flor recognized the different city names. As she finished dicing the onion, she looked up to see Calix walking over towards her.

“Young Flor, enjoying listening in on the political discourse of the day?” he asked in a hush, grinning. His serious expression had disappeared.

Flor glared up at him. “I don’t care what you and your friends are talking about. I’m just here to see Tane.”

She grabbed a second onion and resumed her work.

“Well it’s all very interesting,” Calix continued. “And, quite honestly, relevant. Lord Tedric has delivered an ultimatum to the Lord of Westwich: agree to be a vassal of Tedric and his city of Mightfalls, or prepare for war. And while some men believe it’s time that the cities of Aeclatia be reunited under common country, I don’t believe Tedric is the man to do that.”

Flor looked back at Calix, almost mocking him with her indifference. But seeing his grin replaced by an unexpected seriousness softened her own expression. This clearly wasn’t a game. Nonetheless, Flor rarely concerned herself with the affairs of men and the cities of Aeclatia.

“Lords come and go, cities rise and fall. Why get all bothered?” Flor asked.

“Didn’t you hear?” Calix asked. “Tedric controls the largest swath of grain fields in all of Aeclatia. And after this coming winter, the oracles are predicting a great drought to arrive. Those in power throughout the cities are fearful that a great famine is upon us.”

Hearing the concern in Calix’s voice gave Flor a shudder. “And you believe the oracles?” she asked.

Calix nodded gravely. “I do. I spoke with the oracle of Tradewharf just last week. She warned of a great war in our near future. A war that will determine the fate and future of Aeclatia. I came to meet with these other emissaries of the Northeastern cities. I’m representing my father, the Lord of Tradewharf.”

Flor cocked her head as she looked at Calix. Now that she focused on his ornate tunic, she noticed that the elaborate crest featured a ship. She had heard of Tradewharf before. It was told to be a great city on the coast, the shipping center of Aeclatia. Calix was as close to a prince as a man she’d ever met.

“I hate to ask, but could I get some more ale? Hell knows that I need it to get through this conversation.” Calix smiled gently as he offered the empty mug.

Flor nodded and pulled the ale from the spout. Calix nodded in thanks and returned to the table. Flor continued on helping at the inn until the stew had cooked, losing interest in eavesdropping on the men. After filling her belly with the freshly cooked stew, she grew tired, and decided she would deal with the tunic another day. She bid goodbye to Tane and wandered out of the inn. Before she left, she caught Calix’s eye. He smiled, and winked.

Flor wandered aimlessly through the city, which was beginning to enter the afternoon slump. Many of the farmer’s stalls had closed for the day. As Flor looked at the empty baskets that before held the bounty of the fields, and thought about what a famine would mean for Acovale. She had only known a time of peace in the quiet valley she called home. Men are vicious creatures she thought to herself. She couldn’t imagine what a war over food would be like.

Soon, she arrived back in the forest, and the familiar smells and fresh air soothed her worries. She made her way to her clearing, excited to see Skyra. It was rare for her to spend so long in Acovale, and the dragon was surely anxious about where she’d been and when she’d return.

But when she came to the clearing, Skyra was not there. She looked around before calling out.

“Skyra! Where are you? I’m back!”

She heard a rustle, and smiled wide in its direction.

“Whoever are you calling out to? And who is Skyra?”

Flor’s smile vanished and her face went pale, as she registered the now familiar voice. Calix emerged from the brush, his navy tunic catching branches as he pulled through.

“What are you doing here!” Flor yelled, backing away from the man. Her eyes were sharp, and she flexed into a defensive position. It was as if her home was infiltrated, violated. No man had ever come to her clearing before. “You followed me?!”

“Relax, Flor! I’m a friend,” Calix said, his hands out in front of him in an effort to calm the girl. “I was just getting some air when I saw you heading out of the inn, and curiosity got the better of me. What are you doing out here in the forest? Who is Skyra?”

“It’s none of your business! Go back to Acovale!” Flor yelled back, taking another step back away.

“Flor, a girl your age shouldn’t be alone out here in the woods,” Calix responded, his voice soft and slow.

Before she could answer, she felt a gust come down from the sky. Both she and Calix looked up.

“Oh no,” she whispered. Her secret was about to be revealed. Her biggest fear that she had held ever since Tane told her the history of the dragons of Aeclatia. How they were hunted down. Killed off one by one. By men wearing tunics with golden crests.

Skyra burst through the canopy, his eyes wide and angry. He landed with a massive thump, directly behind Flor. He placed his one massive talon and wing next to the girl, and curled his neck around her other side.

Calix’s eyes were wide and his mouth gaping open. “My Lord…I thought they were all…” he began.

“Dead? They almost were, thanks to men like you,” Flor spat, her voice filled with disgust and disdain.

“Flor, how did you…” Calix’s voice trailed off again. He was truly at a loss for words.

Skyra turned his head to look Flor in the eyes. He could tell she was not in immediate danger, but this was a situation they had not prepared for. They had lived in peace for too long.

“It’s okay, Skyra. I think he’s a friend,” Flor whispered to the dragon. She turned back to Calix. “You can’t tell anyone about him. I’ve kept him a secret ever since he saved me. It was Skyra who found me alone in the forest. He raised me. He’s as close to my own flesh and blood as anyone in the world.” She stood confidently, her hands in fists at her side.

Calix nodded solemnly. When he began, his voice was slow and steady. Almost reverent, as if speaking in front of a Lord. “Flor…do you know what this means? You are the one to save Aeclatia. You are the one destined to unite the great cities across the land.” Calix looked from Flor to Skyra. “You are the Dragon Princess the oracles have been prophesying.”

Flor cocked her head, suddenly confused. She was not expecting this reaction. “What are you talking about? I’m not a princess.” She looked at Skyra, whose tension had begun to abate.

“I’ve consulted with many of the oracles in my recent travels. They all tell of a great war to come. A war that will determine all our futures. And a war that will herald the return a great dragon warrior. A Dragon Princess, specifically.”

Calix paused, waiting for a reaction from Flor. But her confused expression remained.

“Flor, this is your destiny,” Calix continued, his voice solemn.

Flor thought back to the painting in Tane’s inn. Thought of all the dreams she had had of Aeclationous. The warmth those dreams brought to her, dreams where dragons flew freely between the spires of the buildings. Dreams in which she wore a golden tiara with wings curving around her head, with her long hair flowing back as she flew atop Skyra’s back through the city. Children screamed with joy, not terror, from the city streets below. And she smiled as the sun beamed down upon her face, reflecting up from Skyra’s gleaming, emerald scales.

She broke the silence in a slow, soft voice. “You really think I’m meant to fight in a war?”

Calix nodded, his eyebrows rising in an uplifting look of confidence. “I do, Flor. Not just fight in any war. You are the one to lead the victors and save our land. To save us.”

Flor turned to Skyra to confer. He nuzzled her shoulder in support, and let out a warm puff of air through his nostrils.

Turning back to Calix, Flor set her shoulders back and puffed out her chest.

“Well,” she began, her voice confident. “I guess the first step is to introduce the people of Acovale to Skyra. The secret is already out.” She lept up the dragon’s front legs, settling into her usual spot in the cradle of his neck.

Calix looked up, stunned after watching Flor effortlessly mount the great animal.

She laughed casually, and called out, “Come on, Calix. You meant to tell me you haven’t ridden a dragon before?”