Dragons of Zoe Valley

There weren't always dragons in the valley. In fact, they have come rather recently – and we still don’t know what they want. After an initial conversation – although it was more of a wordless understanding – between me and the dragon-chief Raimil, two dozen or so of them had settled on the hilltops of the Ozern mountain range. Apart from a few small misunderstandings with flocks, dealings have been peaceful. I did not think it wise to force anything upon the dragons, and, seeing as they promised us no harm, we have contented to set up an observational outpost. I can’t help but wonder if all this is related to what King Joseph foresaw before he left us. As the prophecy goes:

‘The dragons will set apart

one with steady hands and pure heart’

Could this return of the dragons be the sign we’ve been waiting for? Regent Linnaeus is a man of strength and good character, but he grows old. Some people are growing weary of waiting and I fear the fiery ambition of Xander – among others – will put us all in peril. I pray that my meeting Chief Raimil will open up our relationship with the dragons and perhaps lend some stability to the Kingdom. I still don’t know why they seem so uncommunicative… Or perhaps it’s we who are not listening…

Gareth Grantham, 3rd Archduke of Zoë, put down his quill and stood up.

Journaling is good for keeping track of the countless demands of his duties. The days had been so hectic, he had not sat in peace since indeed before the dragons arrived. He walked over to the window, that wrapped around the circular room. From this tower, the beautiful land Zoë sprawled out in front of him.

It was a blessing never taken for granted to be so far north and yet have such favorable weather; Zoe was a place of life.

The valley, known by most locals as the Strath, ran from North to South was very wide and formed the pulsating heart of the province. A river flowed from the Northern Range through the center before forking off further south. The western border of the valley was a range of shallow hills; the southernmost, and tallest one, was home to the capital city, and the castle. To the east of the river, shallow rolling hills seemed painted on the landscape; there were fruit trees of every kind imaginable, interspersed with rolling meadows and village settlements. Beyond the gentles slopes and beyond the eye could see, the steep Ozern range formed the eastern border of the Strath with high table-tops, where the dragons had settled.

South of the castle there were fields as far as eye could see, dotted with villages and interwoven with roads. Grantham turned to the west; a forest rose to his left, but straight ahead were the foothills; beyond the settlements, the livestock of Zoë, enjoyed safe pasture, tended lovingly by many skilled hands.

Though he could see the leaves in along the hilltops turning orange, and could hear the trees growing ready to sleep, he did not fear winter. And not just the lands he stewarded, but all the kingdom. Zoë provided food for much of the kingdom, a calling that all the people carried nobly.

Grantham returned to look within the Strath and traced the river with his eye upstream, till it vanished in the plains. Out in the distance he could just make out the outline of the mighty Northern Range. Returning to his desk, he continued,

The Chasm bridge continues ahead of schedule. Beyond enhancing trade capabilities massively, it is my hope that this physical connection will be symbolic of ever greater ties of unity between men and dwarves. We must guard our hearts at all costs – too easily does the fear, hatred, and xenophobia spring up – these things led to the Great War.

These Earth crafters from Hinos are surpassing even their own expectations; I must commend them personally to Lord Titus – and thank him again for their loan. Even the process of collaboration between the Zoë craftsmen, Hinos engineers and the dwarven smiths has been phenomenal and somewhat unprecedented. If the process itself is imbued with such co-operation, an outcome of greater unity is guaranteed. But it remains to be seen…

Through his conscience, Grantham heard urgent footsteps coming down the hallway. Though he could sense all life in his house, he restricted his range, particularly while meditating – otherwise it would be impossible to get any focusing done. The urgency of this message broke through however, and he could see the face of Captain Kelvar of the guard materialize in his mind. Before he could remember what exactly remained to be seen, a respectful but hurried rap sounded on the massive oak door. With a resigned sigh, he called out, “Come in, Kelvar.” The door opened. Kelvar was a man of about average height with dark hair and eyes; he was built solidly with broad shoulders and a wide face. He was dressed in royal green tunic with a leather chest plate and golden cape on his right shoulder announcing his rank.

"My apologies, Your Grace."

“I somehow doubt you so urgently bring good news,” Grantham said with a wry smile.

“I'm afraid not, sir. The eggs we’ve been watching – they’ve been stolen.”

****

Jon was amazed at the bridge every time he saw it. The Chasm was deeper than anyone knew, and nearly a thousand standard paces in width. While a bridge could theoretically be suspended completely by magic, it would be far too energy draining. A structurally sound bridge would be long term far more efficient; plus –more dwarves would be willing to trust it. To support this, there was a project team of expert engineers, crafters and even artists. It was going to be the biggest hanging bridge in all the land. The skeleton could be clearly seen spanning the gap. It had to be supple and yet strong to support the shape, which was something like throwing a ball up and forwards but flipped.

“So how do you get the design perfect?” Jon asked, as he helped Mr. Tynius form the supporting cables that would hold the bridge steady in breeze.

Tynius didn’t respond for a moment as he finished weaving the strands of wood together. He wiped his brow and looked at Jon under bushy eyebrows. "Perfection isn’t so much a goal… it’s more of an appraisal after the fact. Aim for functional and excellent; with any luck, you may just hit perfect."

“Huh.”

“Pass me that hammer.” Mr. Tynius tinkered for a bit as Jon thought over what he’d said. “Jon – isn’t your shift here done?”

“Frog legs!” Jon glanced down at the contraption on his wrist – a chronometer they called it. It was his 18th birthday present two years ago and supposed to help him be more on time. Much good that had done.

“Thanks, Mr. Tynius. See you tomorrow!”

Jon raced to the shaded area, calling out “Philip!” in his mind. The mottled horse came trotting to meet him.

“Come on Philip – we’re late!” If horses could laugh, Philip would be.

They raced past the fort and then the village center. Even with the enchanted roads and a horse like Philip, he still arrived quarter of an hour late.

He found Mr. Justus, the farm manager, inside, getting ready to leave. “Sorry, Mr. Justus!”

“Harrumph.”

“I’ll make it up to you – I’ve been meaning to clean out the chicken coup. I’ll get it done today.”

“Fair enough. Also – Bill has just gone off again. You better get him before too long – you know we’ve had some reports of mael-beast attacks the past few days.”

“Gotcha. I’ll do that first thing.” Jon sighed. That silly sheep, always stravaging around. It didn’t even know what was good for it.

The farm was towards the north of the plain, close to the mountains. It was a farm of decent size – exactly 52 sheep and several dozen chickens. And it belonged to the family. His father believed all his sons should know how to handle themselves on a farm – even if they chose different paths later. Jon enjoyed farming – at least bits of it. He truly cared for his sheep and would take time to talk to them and shear them, but he wasn’t sure if he’d do this forever.

“If the rest of the flock is safe, go off for the lost one.” His father had drilled this into both Jon and his brother from an early age. With the mael-beasts around, this was even more important. The ferocious creatures were somewhat like the wolves he’d heard about from further south, but these were much larger, stronger, and more cat-like. Armed with razor-sharp fangs and coats that shifter with the seasons, they were every shepherd’s worst nightmare. Bright yellow eyes were their most distinctive feature.

He tracked Bill’s trail on Philip across the plains into the start of the foothill woods. He dismounted. “Wait here.” The air was chillier here, and though the tree cover was not incredibly dense, it seemed darker. He finally spotted Bill on a narrowing ledge, high enough up the side of a steep mountain face that a fall would be fatal.

“Man. I could’ve sworn we were raising sheep, not goats,” he muttered. After some failed attempts to convince Bill to come down, Jon gave up and went to get him personally.

The mael-beast had learnt to diminish its life signature so that even skilled zoë crafters had trouble detecting it by sensing alone. Jon was actually pretty good at this, but he kept his eyes peeled nonetheless for the tell-tale yellow eyes.

As he started up the ledge, he saw an amber flicker in the trees. Here it came! Jon steeled himself and drew his sword. He could do this. The mael-beast charged; as it lunged at him, he slid belly down underneath it, holding his sword taut as he did. He looked back. The beast was split wide open.

“Wait a minute… where’s the other one…” he sensed it before seeing it this time, a sharp burst of energy as the mael-beast jumped from above to the ledge Jon was standing on.

He stepped back involuntarily, to avoid the razor-sharp claws and… fell.

He grabbed onto the ledge with both hands, letting go of his sword to do so. “Oh boy –,” before he could finish the thought, or react to the mael-beast that was probably about to swipe at his face, the sun disappeared and a storm-wind struck. At least that’s what it initially felt life.

Something like giant bulno tusks pincered the mael-beast. And then something helped him back onto the ledge, gently. As he turned over and looked back, he realized it most have been the dragon’s ‘thumb.’

It was rapidly getting smaller, flying away as fast as it came. But even from here he could see that it was beautiful. Its scales glinting a magnificent blue, just darker than the clear skies. It didn't look back for long, but Jon could swear he saw the hint of a smile in its opal eye with a vertical azure slit. Jon was stunned somewhere between gratitude and bewilderment at his first dragon experience. It was also the first time he’d ever felt sorry for a mael-beast.

-

“Jon! Where have you been? We had to start dinner without you,” Mum called out, as Jon opened the door back home.

The whole family was there, minus his older brother Aaron, including the grands. Grandad smiled at him with the usual twinkle in his eye. Grandmum gave a queenly wave. He loved them both dearly.

“You won’t believe what happened today –,” Jon started as he took off his outer layers and sat down.

“Hey! I was in the middle of something,” his younger sister, Leora, complained.

"Guys; let's take turns. Jon, why don't you grab some food while Leora goes – you look like you need it anyway," Dad said with a smile.

"Don’t have to tell me twice," Jon conceded, helping himself to some of the mutton stew.

“Anyway. And after that, the dragons all migrated; my teacher thinks some went north of the great desert. Either way, we didn’t see them for nearly 100 years, and here they are again, on the eve of the 50th anniversary of the war. It seems quite bizarre,” Leora finished.

There were some nods around the table.

“You speak so well, Leora. I can see you becoming a great senator one day,” Grandmum chirped in.

"Speaking of the Capital, I have some business to attend to there, before the Celebration."

Mum raised one eyebrow quizzically. Grandad pretended not to see it and continued, "I was wondering if you wanted to come with me, Jon.”

Jon paused shoveling his food and looked up with a quizzical eyebrow.

“No fair!" Phoebe, his elder sister, broke the silence.

"Come on, jealousy doesn't look good on you. Plus, with the Celebration coming up, all the excitement will be here!" Dad interjected.

“As long as you don’t plan on getting Jon into any trouble, Dad,” she said looking at Grandad, knowingly.

"Trouble? Me?" Grandad asked innocently, "Never!"

As he prepared for bed that night and looked out at the stars, Jon thought to himself, “Wow. What a day it’s been. From one adventure into the next!”

****

Swshhhh. A deer herd moved through the trees. It was almost like their hooves glided along the leaf carpet rather than their hooves impacting the ground. A faint mist covered the floor, lending an almost mystic feel to the ancient forest. The scene would normally be deeply calming to Celine – but not today. The Senior Ranger gauntlet was infamous in the Corps for its difficulty, and this was the second time Celine was taking it. This time, she was determined to succeed. “Celine – you have the capacity to do this. Be brave. And remember, it’s not over till the arrow strikes.” She replayed her master’s final guidance. She sat cross legged at the base of a tree, making sure her breathing was calm, her focus precise.

In.

Out.

In.

A ram’s horn sounded in the distance – time to go.

She sprang up and began moving towards her objective. The forest seemed quiet today, the oaks not singing their usual songs. A little too quiet. Her first challenge was to retrieve a feather from the nest of a Gulark. With almost iridescent blue and scarlet feathers and a wingspan around a grown man, the bird was quite a sight to behold. However, people didn’t tend to get too close: they were armed with razor sharp beaks and highly territorial. And they lived on very tall heights. In this case, her target was a tree named Methuselah – the oldest known tree in the forest. Even if she didn’t know these woods like her own backyard, the tree would be easy to find, standing head and shoulder above its siblings. Instead of finding an inviting mini-clearing at its base though, she found a tall hedge of poison-thorns, so thick she couldn’t make out the tree through it. She tried willing the thorns to move, but they seemed held in place by an enchantment – one that she didn’t have time to try and break.

The only gap she could find was a tunnel that stretched the width of the hedge, but was so short she would have to hold a low plank. Concluding it was the best bet, she took a deep breath and started shimmying forward on elbows and feet, the thorns above ensuring she didn’t lose posture. Half a minute in, a pungent smell assaulted her nostrils. She nearly gagged. The mud reeked of green funk mixed with dung, making breathing even harder. Worse, it meant resting was not an option; if she soiled her tunic in that, it would be impossible to get past the ferocious birds unnoticed. She gritted her teeth and tried to remember that upbeat song from the village square the other day. After what felt like an eon, she emerged on the other side and rolled onto her back. Panting heavily but silently, abs burning, for a brief minute of reprieve.

With no time to marvel at the ancient tree, she began to climb. Because it was so old, it was harder to convince the tree to create footholds for her in its trunk. But Celine was a powerful craftswoman of zoë and slowly, surely, made her way up. After some time, her shoulders began to ache. It would be far easier to use a supple branch to lift her up, but that would certainly warn the birds. She bit down the pain and kept going.

Fortunately, the gularks didn’t only nest at the very top. In fact, there was a nest almost within striking distance. Unfortunately, the nest was occupied by a very large, albeit sleeping, gulark.

“That wasn’t too bad –” the words scarcely left her mouth when a bulno appeared, its bulky frame charging straight at her. She reflexively leapt, turning in the air as she did, and latched onto its hairy body. The bulno roared angrily but continued its charge. It smashed through the hedges, its immense tusks clearing a safe path for them both. “Guess these thorns don’t matter with your thick skin, huh big guy.” As soon as it breached the hedge Celine jumped into a tree above, grabbing onto a branch. The bulno looked around in confusion, then gave up and disappeared into the foliage.

She dropped and landed lithely on all fours. “Well. Even that was better than doing that plank again.” She dropped the feather into a small leather pouch on her waist. “Okay. One down, two to go.”

By the time Celine arrived at The Dream Cave she had mostly regained her breath. It was marked by an inauspicious opening. The air grew damper and even light Ranger footsteps echoed eerily in the unknown chambers. As Celine stepped in, she reminded herself of the rules here: keep walking in a straight line, no matter what you see, hear, or even feel.

After an uneventful walk through an average height tunnel, with light coming through glow rocks lining the wall, she came to the prize – a smooth gold rock on an oval slab, in the middle of an oval room. “Sweet.” Celine went forward and grabbed the stone.

As she looked up to leave, the path ahead was now part of the cave – the exit lay to the left. Celine took a deep breath and marched straight through the wall. The Cave did its best, conjuring all thoughts of fears, sorrows, and desires. At one point the floor apparently fell away into nothingness. It threw anything at her that could cause her to turn to the left or the right. Even her mother whom she’d never gotten to meet. But Celene had steeled her mind. “Conviction is stronger than feeling,” she repeated to herself. Before long, she emerged triumphant on the other side. She looked down at the golden rock – on it was inscribed, ‘My sight is limited.’ “Isn’t that the truth,” she thought, tucking it into the pouch.

She was meant to meet with Felix now at the birchwood cluster. Nearly there, she reached out and looked for him. No one was there. “Master? Hello?” Something was wrong.

Swoosh!

An arrow whizzed past her face; she saw it coming just in time to move, but it nicked her shoulder, drawing a line of hot blood.

“These are real arrows!” she shouted in her mind while crouching behind the nearest birch. Her heart was really racing now.

“Think, Celine, think!” she tried to predict where the attackers’ exact positions based on tree coverage and the arrow direction.

"You think too much, Celine. Feel!" her master's instructions echoed in her ears.

She blew out a deep breath. She reached out; the assailants themselves were clearly cloaked, but… the animals around them were not…

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

She reached out and shook a branch on a tree several paces away from her. As they pivoted to look at the distraction, Celine stepped from behind cover and aimed. The first was a clean headshot and her target collapsed. The second managed to duck and return fire, but Celine was ready. Lightning fast, a vine shot from a nearby tree and caught the arrow mid-flight. Celine shot again, this one hitting a tree behind the assailant.

Opting for daggers as they moved to close quarters, the combatants danced around the birchwood trees. Her opponent was physically stronger and pinned her to a tree, while guiding a vine around her ankle. It yanked, throwing Celine to the ground. She curled her leg around the assailant’s and a grappling ensued. The assailant came out on top with a pin – by now she could see clearly that it was Oakley. Celine waited until she was about to deliver the ‘finishing strike’ before activating the teleportation charm in her arrow, still suck in the tree. With her opponent already off-balance, it was an easy finish. Celine pounced off the tree onto the assailant’s back; her hand carried her blunted dagger across her neck and the body fell limp.

“Good acting,” she muttered with somewhat of a smile.

“Help!” A cry pierced through the trees. Celine crouched and looked around, while reaching out with conscience. It was a young man with a bruised face; he was bound hands and feet to an oak tree. The only thing was… it was not young man at all, but Felix, her master. “Although he probably tells himself he’s still young,” she chuckled to herself, relaxing a bit. This must be the final part.

She made her way to where Felix, his impersonations were truly impeccable – today he was a Knowing she was still being tested, Celine moved quickly, cutting his ropes. Felix collapsed in pain. There was a large gash in his right thigh. Even though she knew it was fake, she winced in pain. Anyway, no time for that. Finding the nearest fallen branch, she crafted a crude crutch. "Let’s go!" she threw his right arm over her shoulders and

Felix said almost nothing for the 5 minutes it took them to limp to the clearing, apart from grunting and groaning. It was a spacious, roughly circular expanse, with smooth grass and dots of tulips. The tree line was broken by several paths around the circumference, including the one Celine and Felix were on. They crossed the tree line. Celine heaved a sigh. “That’s it!”

Finally, Felix spoke, “You seem to have forgotten one thing.”

Celine tensed and racked her brain, her heart beginning to speed up again.

The young man’s face began to blur and ripple and transformed into Felix, her master. At the same time, she realized what she’d done and leapt back from him - but it was too late.

She looked down at her tunic and saw the ‘blood’ over her left ribcage. In Felix’s hand was the offending knife, coated in bright redberry juice.

“I can’t believe I trusted a stranger.” Celine sat down with a thud.

"Trust is not a luxury rangers can afford." Felix’s face darkened.

Celine was too exhausted to feel properly disappointed. She could only sigh.

"But cheer up. You are still one of the most accomplished Rangers - at only 25!”

Two cloaked figures emerged behind them. The ‘dead’ assailants, now unhooded, came closer.

Bear was a tall and slender ranger about 7 years senior to Celine. He had slightly tousled blonde hair with light blue eyes and a clean shave.

Oakley was about Celine’s height – slightly more built with brown hairs and brown eyes.

“Well done, C,” said Bear. “That vine move was pretty great.”

Celine offered a half smile.

“He’s right,” Oakley added. “That was excellent.”

“Agreed.” Felix finished. “And we will discuss this more in detail later. But for now, we must move. I have received an urgent summons from Lord Grantham. Oakley and Bear – go to base and do check in with Strader. Celine, you’ll accompany me the Castle.”

The two older rangers saluted with fist over heart and vanished into the woods.

Felix closed his eyes for a split second. He was asking their horses to come meet them.

“Celine.” She was still sitting, “There is no use mourning a spilled pale. And besides – have you not learnt a lot?” He offered his hand.

Celine knew her teacher was right. She grabbed his hand and dusted herself off.

“And so I have.”

-

Thought Rangers were cloaked in a veil of unknown and mystery, they were well respected – and even admired, by the citizens of Zoë, particularly those living in the forest plain.

They were greeted with the smell of freshly tilled soil as the root crop planting season began. People here waved and even smiled at the familiar cloaked figures. Felix and Celine always nodded back. They travelled alongside the river for some time before veering off towards the city. As the road grew more crowded, they dismounted and began to walk. People moved aside politely for them.

Houses grew more elaborate as they entered to the city proper. Zoë City was a sight to behold. Out of all the Provinces, and even the Capital, Celine was convinced that they boasted the most fantastic architecture. The buildings here were not constructed or hewn but grown. Each house came from an individual tree which was guided into shape by the family. And there were shapes of all kinds, and colors of all kinds. Houses would grow as families did, with rooms growing as the baby did in the womb. The wood itself would become stronger as the family grew in their internal strength. In addition, most of the wood here was enchanted to be impervious to mildew, fire and infestations.

The crowning jewel was the Castle. If shaped as a natural tree, it would probably outstrip even Methuselah. It was at once imposing and comforting, impenetrable and yet welcoming. Its turrets and towers of different sizes and complementing colors made for a spectacle.

Indeed, the enchantments were so powerful, that the outer walls of the Castle, though wooden, were far tougher than stone.

The Rangers were nodded through various doors and checkpoints rapidly until they found themselves being introduced to the grand meeting room. Inside, Archduke Grantham was sat with his advisors around a massive circular table. The Advisors were both elders, serving the previous Lord Grantham, and new – this was Lord Grantham’s policy ever since he came to power, and it had earned him the reputation as a wise leader.

The room was magnificent, with its arched ceilings, life size portraits from the Aeras Province, and the intricate wooden swirls on the floor but Celine couldn’t help but focus on the real attraction – the captain standing at Lord Grantham’s right, briefing the room. “I can’t believe he looks even better than two weeks ago,” she thought to herself.

“Rangers. Glad you join us,” Lord Grantham said, looking up.

They saluted fist to heart and inclined their heads.

“Kelvar, please bring the Rangers up to speed as briefly as possible.”

“Yes, sir.” Kelvar turned to them. Celine kept her gaze steady. “Essentially, we’ve been monitoring the dragons, including a nest with three eggs. This morning we noticed the eggs were gone.” Celine’s eyebrows raised. “What’s more, a group of Fotian traders as far north as the Chasm pass two days, which is strange enough as is. Combined with the eggs, it cannot be a coincidence. What’s more, to the best of our intel, the dragons are due to hatch soon, which could be doubly bad –essentially, can you imagine the consequences if Archduke Xander bonded to a dragon?”

“I’d rather not,” muttered Lord Grantham. “Thank you, Kelvar. You have the picture, Rangers. This is a delicate operation. Can we do this with near-zero impact, Felix? Ideally, we would steal the eggs back, without them even noticing.”

“That is our specialty,” Felix performed a mock bow.

“It’s settled then. Rangers Felix and Celine will tail the Fotian traders seeking information. If possible, seize the dragon eggs – but do not risk outright aggression with the Kingdom.”

“Very good, my Lord.” Felix replied.

“Meanwhile, I will go with Captain Kelvar and Master Craftsman Rane to meet with the dragons must sooner than I anticipated.”

It would have been unusual under normal circumstances for the Archduke to personally request a junior Ranger, even one with the potential of Celine. Unless of course… said Ranger was the Archduke’s daughter. “Your Grace,” she nodded her head and placed fist to heart politely. Before all the advisors had even left, he pulled her into a bear hug.

“Celine.” His eyes always warmed when he said her name. “How was it?”

“It wasn’t bad,” she sighed. “Actually, scratch that. I’m going to look at this the right way. I learnt a lot and I’m progressing well.”

“That’s a good response. We’re going to need that in the coming times. I have a sense that a whole lot is about to change.”