Heir of Hildrith

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

A young man sat at a granite table that stretched the length of an underground cavern, high arched ceilings loomed over head, and all was dark except for the soft glow of an orb that levitated just over his right shoulder. A book lay on the table before him. It was old, the pages crisp, but the words pronounced. A preservation spell saved the book from the deterioration of age. The boy could just barely see the runes hovering over the surface of the pages. Not all who read the book would see such runes, but the boy had Witch blood in his veins.

The City of Lannon: A History was etched on the cover, written by his ancestors who had lived to see the City of Lannon before it fell to the beasts their mountain was meant to protect them from. Mount Lannon was known to travelers as the Mountain of Scales, for the stone shined with silvanite, and glistened in the sun like a fish out of water. The Pool of Tranquility was the natural water source of Lannon, home to the water sprites that gave the waters its name, said to have sung lullabies with honeyed voices, languid and peaceful. The pool itself shone like abolone beneath the glitter of the mountain face. During its time, the city of Lannon was rich with the bustle of townsfolk, the distant clang of the village blacksmith a familiar sound, and the sky was alive with the vibrant feathers of Griffons and the game hunters who rode them.

The young man tried to picture such a place, but his eyes had never seen the true light of day, nor the lush banks of tall grasses that swept the valley floor. He’d been born in the deep channel of tunnels and caverns that the people of Lannon had escaped to when the dragons first arrived generations ago. The Caves of Lannon served as an underground fortress, but hadn't been needed until then, and had been all but forgotten by the townsfolk. There was no map of the caves themselves, and how far underground they went was unknown to the Lannon people. They didn’t risk going further than necessary, for fear of what creatures might lie deep in the earth. For this reason, there were corridors that had been blocked off by spells of shielding and protection, so as to prevent anyone or anything from coming or going.

The irony didn’t escape the young man as he read about the Mountain of Scales, and the valley below it, now the charred breeding grounds of those slithering, scaley serpents.

He was deep in his reading when suddenly, the book was snapped from his hands and flew across the room, closing with a smack.

“Enough reading for the night, don’t you think, Alec?” said a cool voice from somewhere in the dark corners of the library. The young man’s shoulders sank beneath the weight of the power these words held, but he was used to compulsion spells, and this one was meant to be a gentle warning.

“Aunt Tetra.” He acknowledged the sorceress with a bow of his head, “I couldn't sleep.”

The woman stepped forward into the glow of the artificial light. Tetra's form loomed into stunning view. Tall and dark skinned, she wore her black hair in tight braids down her back and robes of golden weave hung low to reveal her shoulders and the mark of the Sorcerer's Guild. Her power rippled along the surface of her skin, runes of protection and good fortune were etched along her back and arms; she was fiercely beautiful, yet frightening. Her face was stoic, and Alec swore he never saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes. Yet there was something about her aura that suggested a nurturing nature.

“Was it the dreams again? Shall I make you a tonic to rest your nerves?” she asked, gliding towards the table and placing the book down. She glanced at the cover and her eyes squinted slightly as she noted the contents. “You’re reading this one again,” she stated with a spark in her voice, causing Alec to flinch.

“I do not require a tonic, thank you,” said Alec, his eyes carefully meeting hers, ignoring her comment about the book.

“This must be the fourth time I’ve found you after hours in the library. What is it about this book that draws your attention?” Her gaze demanded a response. Alec thought before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

“I believe my dreams are visions. I see a girl and her companion wandering through what I think to be our city,” Alec explained, concealing his enthusiasm, “but in my dream, the sky is red, and the town reduced to rubble. I think the people in my dream are searching for us. I'm reading this text to get a clear picture of Lannon, to see if it matches what I see in my dreams." he finished speaking in a rush, not pausing to take breath.

What he didn't mention was the voice that spoke to him in his dreams, whispering about Old Magic and stories of a world before men, a world that worshiped ancient and mythical beings. He'd never heard of Old Magic, but he had a feeling that it was a forbidden topic, and therefore chose not to reveal this knowledge to Tetra. He'd scowered the library for some clue, but found nothing among the ancient texts and scrolls the elders of their city had left underground when the caves were first built. The voice in his dreams was archaic and enchanting, and not at all human. He was loath to admit that he looked forward to sleep, just to hear the voice and its stories.

Tetra had heard Alec talk about his dreams before, and it raised concern in her chest for her young nephew. She could sense the potency of the power in his blood, though Alec himself was unaware of his own potential. She had decided to keep it to herself until the time was right to take him on as her apprentice. But it was becoming obvious to her that he may already be tapping into his abilities unknowingly. Dream Walking was a dangerous and difficult magic, yet Alec seemed to have a natural affinity for it. Tetra wasn’t sure if this would mean great things for the young sorcerer, or if it would be his ruin. She chose to tread the topic of his dreams with care, and fought the sense of trepidation it caused her.

“I see you’ve mastered the light of Theia,” Tetra said, changing the subject, eyeing the orb above his shoulder.

“It is just petty magic,” said Alec, looking sullenly at the light.

“Controlling the Theian orb is no small feat. When I was your age I could barely keep it lit for more than a minute,” Tetra admitted, “You have already grasped the minor runes of healing, protection, and accuracy. In fact, you are well ahead in your studies, you should be proud.”

“Well when one lives in a cave, all there is to do is practice spell casting,” Alec said bitterly, his lips pursing into a thin line. And wandering through the forbidden corridors, he thought to himself, though that was something he hadn’t quite the courage to do yet. One day, he told himself, when Tetra wasn’t watching. He had been secretly practicing spells for breaking and entering at night in his bed chamber, with the intention of slipping past the protective barrier of spells that guarded the banned corridors.

“I see. You should keep in mind that if it weren’t for our ancestors who carved the tunnels, our people would be extinct,” said Tetra.

“The rest of the world doesn’t even know we are here,” said Alec, his hand clenched in a fist on the table, “what is the difference?” His gaze challenged Tetra’s, a look of desperation clouding his expression. Her own face softened at that, startling Alec and causing him to momentarily forget his frustration. He was not used to seeing the statuesque Aunt Tetra go soft. She had to remind herself that the boy was still young, and she pitied the fact that he might in fact never see the world above. But something tugged at the back of her mind just then, bringing her thoughts back to their previous conversation.

“Tell me, I’m still curious about your dreams. What makes you think these travelers you see are looking for us, here in the valley of dragons?” Tetra asked, calling it by the nickname given to it by the former townspeople.

Alec looked pleased by the question, and was about to respond before he was cut off by the sudden low rumbling of the cavern. The walls shook as loose rubble trickled down from the ceiling, his hands grasped the trembling table, his heart jumping in his chest. Tetra merely gazed upward. After a moment, the quake ceased.

“They’re moving again,” Tetra whispered, her eyes still gazing upward, “something’s unsettled them.” Alec shivered at her words. He pictured their coiling bodies, the iridescent blue of their scales, camouflaging well with the sky when airborne, and their teeth, said to be larger than the tallest man. It was said that no one had ever looked a dragon in the eye and survived, and so there was no record of what their eyes might look like. Alec always pictured them to be piercing and reptilian, burning with the flame that filled their chests.

“It’s probably just hunting season,”Alec considered, though he knew better. The quakes had become more and more common in recent months, and only when the moon was high.

“Hunting season isn’t for another two moons,” Tetra corrected, her hand grasping the moonstone pendant at her neck, roughly the size of a small egg, her eyes turning a milky white and appearing distant as she did so. Alec noticed this happen whenever she touched the pendant at her neck and assumed this was how Tetra kept track of time in the caves. He could sense the stone’s energy and figured that it revealed the moon cycles to her.

Lowering her hand, Tetra’s eyes cleared and she returned her gaze to Alec. “As you were saying?” Tetra asked, taking a seat at the table beside him, careful not to show how startled she’d felt at what the pendant had revealed to her just then, “tell me about these wanderers you see in your sleep.”

Alec leaned in and, with an expression of earnestness that Tetra thought made him appear much older than 16, began to describe the travelers in his dream and the charred ruins through which they walked.

***

Several leagues away from the caves of Lannon, the Cliffs of Alkonost sat overlooking a dark and tomultuous sea. Two weary travelers were passing through, despite the risk of encountering the creature that legend said guards the cliffside. The coffee was especially bitter that morning, so bitter it almost burned. It was raining, and the tall reedy grasses that hugged the cliffside hung low against the downpour. Beneath the canopy of a mushroom tree, Gentry and Xander waited out the storm, boiling water over a self-heated kettle their mother had charmed for journeys such as theirs.

The horizon was a scorched tongue against the dark sky as dawn attempted its approach. They sat in silence and watched the toiling sea below them. With yellow and brown speckled eyes, the two of them could see much more than the average human, and Xander pointed to a spot a couple hundred yards away. Gentry followed his gaze along the cliff’s edge and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Clinging to a blade of wilted grass were a couple of meadow fairies. She figured they were the weather sentries, responsible for predicting weather patterns for the rest of their frollick.

The meadow fairies camouflaged well to the brownish sea of meadow reeds, and moved much like a sea creature as well, with long spindly limbs and skin like a cat’s tongue. Their skin is what allowed them to glide among the grasses. One would almost think they were flying, but because they moved so quickly and camouflaged so well, meadow fairies were a rare sighting. It was an unexpected treat for Xander and Gentry to see them, so vulnerable, right before their eyes.

Xander and Gentry had a rare and strange advantage. Born half Witch on the night of the blood moon, they were known as Witchlings, creatures born with special abilities that wouldn’t reveal themselves until later in life. Xander and Gentry were twins, and their gift was their Sight. Independently, their eyes allowed them to see miles away. Together, their eyes were mirrors to the future. Should they meet each others gaze at the right moment, a gateway would open, forcing them through to another time and place. They had not yet mastered their gift, however, and possessed little control over when and what they saw. At times, it was as clear and simple as witnessing the birth of a goat on their farm. At other times, it was twisted and blurry, difficult to see or make sense of. Usually these were futures that were distant and not yet decided.

The creation of Witchlings had been outlawed in every Kingdom, and the consequences of breeding such creatures meant death to both parents and their offspring. It was while Xander was tending to their mother’s herb garden one afternoon, a Witch who specialized in potion making, when he saw the King’s guard approaching only a day's ride away. He and his sister took little time to pack what they needed for an unexpected journey before escaping into the backwoods, traveling on foot for twenty nights before finding refuge among the reedy cliffs overlooking Corpus Bay and the small village of Vastnos.

They gave little thought to the creature known as the Alkonost, for which the cliffs were named. Half woman, half bird, the Alkonost possessed a singing voice said to make the listener completely forget who they are. There were legends of crewmen who became bewitched by a strange and sullen melody over the mists of the bay as ships approached port Corpus, never making their destination, and disappearing all together.

If there was such a creature, Xander and Gentry had confidence that they would see it before it could attack. But so far, all they saw was the open field in front of them, the hazy horizon over the sea, and the distant town far below the cliff side.

“Do you remember what that merchant said in the pub last night,” asked Xander, breaking the silence.

“You mean the rumors about the dragons moving?” Gentry paused to think for a moment. “Yes, I remember. They fear the dragons are getting restless. It is quite curious, they haven't struck in decades, ever since they sacked that poor city.” said Gentry. It was nice to talk about anything that took their minds off the fact that they were being hunted. Even if it was about dragons.

“They spoke of a lad who’d come through, part of a pack of Griffon riders. Apparently he was close enough to the Valley to see them scouting. The dragons are dormant creatures most of the time unless it’s hunting season, but hunting season is still many moons from now. It has many people worried about their movements,” Xander recalled. “It must be a true threat if word has swept this far across the kingdom. Even our eyes can’t reach that part of the Valley.”

Gentry scoffed at that remark. “I wonder what’s got them so restless all of a sudden,” she said, her gaze resting on the horizon toward the the Northern hillsides of Sycero. It was then that Gentry’s senses spiked, and her cat-like pupils turned to slits as the hair on her arms stood up. She looked at Xander who was staring intently across the meadow with immeasurable focus.

“Do you hear that?” asked Xander. Gentry listened and thought she caught a distant and mournful humm, but the sound was muffled by the rain that continued to fall around them. Still, her heart began to pound against her chest as her instincts told her they were not alone. Xander gripped Gentry’s arm protectively and looked her in the eye.

“We should move,” he was about to say, but instead he found himself propelled forward, falling endlessly through a hypnotic whirlpool of vibrating colors, his vision blurring as the colors slowly melted into shape around him and he landed flat on his feet, his arm still grasping Gentry’s, only they were no longer in the meadow.

What lay before them was absolute ruin. The ground at their feet was not but charred earth and ash. Around them were the crusted and petrified remains of a city burned to its bones. Barely a structure remained standing, and the air was heavy and dense with smoke. Gentry felt as if she could choke on the sulfurous air, only she didn’t feel as if she were really breathing it in. Her presence there felt distant and hazy, as if she and Xander stood in a bubble.

“What is this place?” She asked, her voice echoing faintly around them. They saw no presence of life, and with their eyes they could see ahead what looked like what once had been a large body of water, now dried and cracked and absolutely desolate. A bell tower some distance away still stood tall, only the bell hung at an angle, and was obviously broken.

Before Xander could reply, the earth at their feet began to shake violently. They were about to run, but then the landscape before them began to fade and transform, and they found themselves somewhere equally unfamiliar, and dark. So dark, in fact, that they dared not move, for the twins did not have night vision, and they could see nothing before them. They didn’t dare speak either, for fear of what could be lurking in the dark. They were vaguely aware of the fact that they were somewhere in the future, however they still weren’t sure how physical their presence was when experiencing their visions. As far they knew, their physical bodies could still be in the meadow, while their astral forms were somewhere in the future. But that was all speculation, and there was no text explaining the possible physical harm that could come to one’s astral form.

They weren’t standing for too long before they noticed a faint glow up ahead in the distance, and they realized with great relief that they were standing in a large cavern, obviously man made, with shelves reaching to the ceiling, filled with books of every kind. The light was coming from a corridor across the room from them, and they were careful to remain concealed in the darkness of the shadows.

A moment later, a young man, no more than 20, with shoulder length dark curls and a poorly shaved face, passed through the arched entryway and walked to a place among the shelves. Reaching up with one hand, and whispering something inaudible under his breath, a book released itself from the shelf and into the man’s hands. He turned to the table at the center of the hall, and Gentry was able to get a clear view of his face. A scar ran from his left eye to his chin, his skin was as pale as the pages of the book in front of him, and he wore a leather vest over a linen shirt. Markings ran across his hands and up his wrists to meet his sleeves. Xander and Gentry recognized these markings as runes.

They watched as the young man shifted through the pages, stopping at a place towards the end of the book. The book itself seemed of great importance. It was large and leather bound, requiring the use of a spell to open its brass clasp. With his hands held in front of him, he first cast a spell of protection around his body, invisible to the naked eye, but to Xander and Gentry, it appeared as a shimmering gauze, covering him like a cloak of stars. He then began to whisper an incantation, his eyes closed in concentration. A rune began to appear in the air before him, and a surge of static power pulsated throughout the hall. The twins watched in disbelief as they realized that the young man before them was more than the average wizard. They had never met a true sorcerer in the blood before. Master Sorcerers weren’t common in any part of the world. Few survived adolescence, consumed by their own power if not controlled at a young age. They didn’t recognize the mark he was creating, but they could feel the density of its power, and it left a raw and metallic taste to the air.

“I know you’re here,” the young man said suddenly, his emerald green gaze resting on the corner of the room where the twins stood. The twins lost their breath at the shock of being seen, and were about to plead their innocence, that they meant no harm, before another voice came from behind them.

“Your senses have improved. As have your Rune casting skills. Tell me, what need do you have for such a spell?” The voice belonged to a woman, and it was she to whom the man spoke, the twins realized with great relief. She began to say more, but whatever it was became faint echoes as the room slipped from their view, becoming a muddled blur of light, until they found themselves back in their own time.

For a moment, they stood bewildered, having found themselves in the middle of the village of Vastnos, below the cliffs of Alkonost. But soon they were moving again, in search of shelter.

Neither of the twins were quite sure of what they’d just seen, but of two things, they were certain. First, they would find out what rune the man had been casting. It was more complex than anything they’d seen in any tablature and required a shield of protection to cast it, which meant it was potentailly dangerous.

Second, that the young man, whoever he was, weilded great power and the Sight wouldn’t have shown him to them unless they were meant to find him.