Dragon Sign

Prologue: First Son of House Meisengrad

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. From the fortunes of evil kings to the misfortune of their people, the shadowed foretelling of the dragon return has been spoken of in hushed voices deep within the hollow corners of this world, but none now live who have ever seen one… but for me.

At one time, the pact between the Dragon Lords of House Meisengrad held the world in peace and splendor. King Meisrob, the last of the Dragon Lords himself, never beheld the Dragon Kindred with his own eyes, but in his heart, he longed deeply to reforge the alliance between them. With the fall of his father’s house, he saw the death of all that kept the balance of power in the world. And Dragon Sign was not to be his legacy.

Still to this very moment, and I suspect unto the ending of all life on this earth, the Dragon Folk hold to their hope. In long watches in the night from the Spires of Meisengrad above the Vale of Rangmoore, they have year upon year sought the Dragon Mists, but none have come. Over the ages, the houses of the great Dragon Lords have fallen into legend, becoming little more in the land than a passing tale, told to the destitute to spread hope, no matter how dim the light now is.

I am Torella, last to hold the magelight of House Meisengrad and the last of the keepers of the Dragon Lords. I tell these tales now because I travelled into the Village of Joan but a fortnight ago to deliver the child of Dame Dahleara McSwain, the last grand-cousin to Meisrob The Great. Dahleara’s child is the last of that line and I had been summoned to birth her child. As the sole heir to the last house of Dragon Lords, if this child be a male, he would have to be inspected for Dragon Sign. I alone know those signs. To my knowing, no other mages have been born and we only pass that knowledge to our own.

The lovely Dahleara travailed heavily in birth. In the dark watch of the evening her body ebbed and flowed to deliver, contorting in such agony, but she never cried out. By nightfall, the young sire came into the world with his back to it and in so doing, emerged even unto the passing of his mother, the last Great Lady of House Meisengrad.

As I finished his separation ceremony and watched his mother’s body being prepared for transport to the great house for the last rites, I cleaned and swaddled the young son. Pulling him to my breast for warmth, I pulled back the cloths covering his sweet face. In a small almost unnoticeable mesh of silver just behind his ears, I beheld what I can only describe as a cluster of scales. They shone like pearl in the dim lantern-light of the birth house. I could not help but to touch them and as I softly ran my finger over them, the child in the crook of my arm, opened his eyes.

There, a silvery flash gazed back at me, boring into the depths of my very soul. This one would be so much more than a Dragon Lord. I knew at once that here in my arms, I beheld the first of the Dragon Masters prophesied of old.

Knowing that should the evil kings of our day find out about this child he would never survive their wrath, I could in no way risk his demise. He alone held the key to putting aright much that has been lost in our world.

Touching my head to his, I closed my eyes and sought the giver of my power for a way to save this child. Closing then his eyes with my fingertips, I whispered a sleeping spell on the little one, so that no one would know he had survived his birth. As fortune would have it, he, like his mother, had not cried out and no one would question me.

Following the priests to Calvahall for Dame McSwain’s final rights, I held the child in my arms and would let no one touch him. When they placed her in the royal tomb, farewelled solely by her husband, I put the form of the child upon her breast and the tomb was sealed for all eternity.

Once all were abed, I made my way in dark silence to the birthing house. All of the nursing wives were abed, so I stole into the larder and carefully squatted to move aside the baskets with stores of bandaging. Within the last basket, all the way in the back of the farthest corner, the youngest of the line of Meisengrad dreamed in peaceful silence. Leaving the bandaging on top of the sleeping child, I made my way out of the village and into the wild.

The dark was not kind to me, but I could not risk moving by day. I traversed many weary miles over moor and through ancient trees, as I made my return to the lands of the Dragon Folk with only the stars as my guide.

As the sun rose on the third day, the babe awoke. Traveling at night and having slept in cool dark places by day, I was able to keep the wetnurse milk I stole in proper condition for him to accept it, and he drank as though he would never drink again. It pained me to take it from him, but he did not cry. I cannot explain, but somehow, he knew that I was rationing. Soon we would be traveling again, and he needed to have more substance for the journey ahead.

I must impart that with my long years upon the earth and my age rendering my way slow, concern grew within me about making it to my destination before I could go no further. Not knowing how I would go; I yet embraced the task at hand. The child is precious to me. I know now that I will have grave difficulty parting with him when at last, we reach the lands of House Meisengrad.

On the dawn of the seventh day, I stood in the Vale of Rangmoor, where once great dragons kept watch over the Dragon Folk and their royal houses. Just through the forest on the other side, I beheld the tall, abandoned spires of the Watchtower of Meisengrad.

I gave the little one a squeeze and pulled the blanket down to look at him.

“We’ll have you home by tomorrow, little one.” I cooed, stroking his soft cheek with the backs of my fingers.

He shifted uneasily in his blankets, stretching sleepily and squinting off the glare of the waning sun. Soon we would be at the place of my birth among the people that I loved. They would welcome him with great elation and celebration.

My heart raced with excitement as it had never raced before. The prophecy was no longer some sought-after hope, but a reality on the verge of breaking into existence and I held in my arms the beginning of it all. As I kissed his cheek and hugged him close to me, he made an unsettling noise in the back of his throat.

I’ve heard it before. As a child, I once strayed into the wood, stumbling upon a baby fox whose leg was caught between the roots of a tree. As I progressed toward him, he growled low. It was a deep growl for a baby fox, the sounds almost giggling close together, then ebbing, but it also paled in comparison to his older counterparts. At the time, I could tell he wasn’t planning on biting me because he absolutely wanted my help, but he also desired to warn me that he could be dangerous should my motives not be pure.

Hearing that sound coming from a newborn set the hair on the back of my neck on-end.

I leaned back to look at him, and his twinkling blue eyes waxed silver. The growling stopped. Seconds arced by as I stood looking into the depths of his eyes. I knew we needed to get somewhere to hide and wait for nightfall, but my feet would not respond to my command. In seconds, the sky swirled into darkness. Too frightened to flee, I refused to remove my gaze. Wind gusted so that my body swayed with its rhythm and the bursts of air pushed, then sucked, then pushed, then sucked at me. The baby’s growling had turned to a soft humming sound.

In a moment, the sun’s light had gone. I stood in the base of the Vale of Rangmoore, holding a newborn Dragon Master in my arms and the sky above me seemed low as the sound of great wings fell all around me. As the child squirmed to look at the sky, I tore my gaze from him and looked. Above us in an even formation, five dragons hovered, their great wings slowly moving to keep them in place above us.

Their scales were the only thing to catch the rays of the sun as they held themselves up in the pale light above us. Each of them had scales of glistening onyx. In all my years I had never seen a black dragon. They held the power of all Dragon Kindred. Their hordes had never graced the lines of men, as they held all of us to be beneath them. The Dragon Kindred that shared in the fortune of Meisengrad’s line were predominantly green, with the occasional brown, or white-scaled dragon. This was something else. Such beauty I have never beheld, such fear in my depths!

The dragon in front dove to land before me, his great silver talons sinking into the ground and nearly rocking me from my feet. At that time, more dragons began coming from the South to join them and the sky moved with their efforts. The grey mists of moisture brought on by the breath of dragons filled the entire valley. I clutched the dragon son to my chest for dear life. I could not let any harm befall him!

A voice, almost too powerful and terrible to comprehend resonated in my mind.

“Behold little mother! We come to pay homage to the Dragon Son. Give him that we may see, and pledge”.

Unsure what he meant by “give”, I turned my shoulders to keep the child safe.

“Now, woman!” the voice shouted inside of me. With that command, the dragon instilled within me a trust that he meant the child no harm. I held the babe up with one hand under his neck and the other under his bottom for the Dragon to see.

The shining black head swirled down to look on the baby in my grasp, and the wind from his movement push me so hard I thought I might swoon. He sniffed the child, the air, heat and smell of sulfur pushing me back. In a moment he seemed, (to my mind), to have smiled in approval. Suffice it to say, he must have approved because as he swooped into the air to rejoin the others, I could mentally hear them conversing, saying that the Dragon Master had come.

Slowly, as far as the eye could see, dragons once more landed in the valley on the borderlands of Meisengrad. They bowed their heads and knelt before a newborn king. Dragon Mist once again pervaded the valley and as the dragons arrived, paying homage to the new child, so too did the Dragon Folk from the forests of Rangmoore.

So say I unto you, there weren’t always dragons in the Valley… but they have returned and with them, the last of the line of Dragon Lords, and the first in the line of Dragon Masters!