Moon Hyde

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

Analysts have devoted the entirety of their lives to research the origins of the dragon and haven’t found a trace of their existence beyond a century ago. Admittedly, a century is still a significantly long time. Especially when faced with famine, plagues, and war- the typical life expectancy for humans doesn’t push much past fifty.

It can be argued that much of the reason humans die so young is attributed more to our immense curiosity – particularly when it comes to deadly creatures – than anything else. Given that medicine has come such a long way in the past decade alone, and people are overcoming more sickness than they are expiring of it, I would say that this statement is justified. Change is present.

Take this morning for example. The healer made his rounds through our growing town, toting around his medical bag made from stitched leather, filled to almost bursting with multiple different salves, medicines, and herbs. His visits are very quick these days, I have noted, watching from the window of my bedroom that gives the perfect view of Brick Row - a brick laden street that is center to the row of houses built on either side of it to contain the citizens of our town. The Valley of Delphi has been stricken by illness for far too long, disease allowed to fester and grow like a spot of mold on rotten fruit. With restricted access to supplies, and the increasing population of dragons outside our city walls barring us from getting more, it took a long time to gather our own share in enough quantity to mass produce healing medicine.

My father is the highest-ranking commander of our army and has been a critical piece in retrieving the herbs and supplies to keep us going. He has led dozens of troops beyond our town, into the woods that surround us and into the mountains beyond them. They have scoured the landscape, using sketches the analysts drew for them as a guide for what to bring back. There are towns all the way to egery and back that used to allow trade with us, but when sickness overtook the lands, they barred their doors and would allow no being capable of carrying disease to pass.

But now, with the last of the illness running its course, the town is beginning to come alive again. Women’s bellies I pass in the streets are swollen with child, a promising sight to see after the amount of death I have seen in the last year alone. Businesses are reopening daily, the bread maker’s chimney always breathing deliciously scented smoke into the sky, the florist’s doors propped wide open with buckets full of brightly colored flowers. Even the analysts we know to typically stay holed up in their tower are seen strolling through the streets, taking their lunches in the gardens or helping the soldiers distribute supplies throughout the market.

I find myself incredibly happy that things are looking up for our little Valley of Delphi.

Happy, but curious.

I have spent majority of the past year restricted to the confines of my home. Mother worried over me too much, as the only child her and Father were able to bring into this world, and she refused to let me dally outside too long for fear of catching an illness.

So, in the house I stayed.

Being my last year of studies, I had a lot of free time. So, mother put me to work. I helped her do the washing. Scrub and shine the floors and banisters. I helped her prepare the two meals a day my father would some of the time be home for and then clean up after them. And when all of that was done, when the sun would begin to set and the last rays of light would disappear behind the mountain peaks west of our town, I would train.

Father insisted from a young age that I should be able to defend myself from any monster that may come my way, whether man or beast. So, he spent an hour each night, drilling me like he would any soldier in his army. He has taught me how to use a sword, how to excel in hand-to-hand combat, and most importantly, how to take down an enemy before I am too weak or injured to fight any longer. How to kill.

Now that the risk of death by disease is dissipating, and our town is growing into its next phase of evolution, I am itching for something new to attach myself too. Though I have recently completed my studies, shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I have no clue what path I want to take in life. It seems there are so many to choose from. It remains to be seen whether any of them will be a good fit for me at all, but seeing as I can’t even choose one, I can’t worry about that just yet.

A soft knock at my bedroom door draws my attention from the window, and I turn just as mother walks in, my coat held gingerly in her arms.

“Your father should be arriving anytime now from his patrol, why don’t you greet him at the gates? I’m sure he’d love for you to escort him home.”

“Oh yes, I’ll be on my way immediately!” I tell her, grabbing my coat from her arms and pulling it on hastily. With an appreciative kiss on her cheek, I am out of the door in moments.

It is a sunny day, thankfully, my coat turning out to be hardly necessary as the last of winter has left us and the grass is turning green again. I take deep breaths of the crisp, fresh air as I walk out of Brick Row, heading towards the center of town where the market and the gates preside. Our town is bordered by towering walls and fortified gates, installed by generations of our ancestors before us. My father and his troops patrol the grounds daily, some stationed on the walls to see from above, and others patrolling through the woods on foot.

It isn’t often they come across dragons anymore. I’m told when my father was a newly selected soldier himself, men were killed by the beasts daily. It seems the dragons have learned to be more evasive. Though they can be heard from miles away, belting out mighty roars, they don’t seek out soldiers to kill like they used to. Father says the analysts think they have evolved, developing a disinterest in the humans who now put-up great fights, when there are plenty of animals to feed on instead.

If only I could see one, just once.

I shake my head. No, I mustn’t think like that. I am no analyst; I would be able to make no great discoveries should I be faced with a dragon. If I wasn’t gobbled up immediately, I would probably faint from fear. Father would faint if he even heard a whisper of my interest in meeting a dragon.

Pushing my idiotic thoughts aside, I came to stand before the towering metal gates.

“Good afternoon, Fallon. Come to see your father home?” Byron, one of my father’s soldiers who is stationed at the gates today greeted me.

“Yes, shouldn’t be much longer I think.” I shot him a polite smile and found a place to stand off to the side. I wouldn’t want to stand directly in the path of the dozen soldiers that would be returning with him, exhausted, ready to bathe and have dinner.

The sun was already beginning to descend, and I couldn’t help but begin to worry at my bottom lip. He should be back by now. Normally, we would be sitting down for dinner at this very moment, and shortly afterwards training in the yard behind our house.

Shouts began to sound from the walls, and beyond the gates as well. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and my entire body became instantly on high alert. Something had to of happened.

“Open the gates, NOW!” A soldier appeared from around the corner, racing towards the gates as the two other soldiers jumped into action.

The gates are extremely heavy, being made entirely of metal and wood and so large, that it takes at least two men to heave them open. Byron and the two other men whose names I don’t know grunt with the effort it takes to yank them open, and I realize I’m holding my breath, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest. I don’t know what we’ll find on the other side of the gate once they are open. If they encountered a dragon, several men could be dead or severely injured. Including my father.

After what seems like hours, they have heaved the gates open, and a cloud of dirt dissipates to show several soldiers racing in, pushing a large wooden cart.

“Call for all the healers!” I hear one of the men shout, and Byron races off.

The cart is laden with bodies from what I can see between the men scrambling around it, securing fabric around bloodied wounds.

“Father!” I call, pushing between them idiotically as I search for him. When I don’t hear his response, my shoving and searching becomes more frantic.

“FATHER!” I try again, more of a screech this time as I start searching the faces that I can see of the injured, hoping to find him alive, maybe just a cut or broken arm.

“Fallon?” I hear a familiar voice call, and I swivel to see my father standing off to the side of the wooden cart, helping a young soldier – Bran I think his name is – carry a body off of it. A dead body. A mangled, bloodied, horrific looking body.

But my father, though covered in dirt and blood spatter, his dark hair disheveled, looks completely unharmed.

“Oh, you’re okay.” I manage to say, almost breathless from the sight before me and the now settling realization that he is standing before me and not injured or dead in the cart.

“Go back home, I’ll be along shortly.” He tells me, already walking away as they carry the body off to the side of the gates, where two others lie.

“What happened?” I follow him, noticing that a crowd of horrified faces are already beginning to gather and taking in the bloody scene around us.

He doesn’t answer, taking a thick black stack of fabric from one of his men and using it to cover each of the bodies, respectfully covering their faces until their family can be notified and their bodies taken by the healer. Once he is finished, he makes a quick scan of the scene. Healers have arrived and soldiers are helping them move the injured men onto hoists to carry to the infirmary. It seems that only the three bodies to the side received fatal injuries, and probably five or so men were otherwise maimed. When he sees that there is nothing else to do, he finally turns to me.

“We came across a dragon’s den.” He begins, pausing as a flash of emotion covers his face. “A mother dragon, it turned out. She must have recently settled there, and laid eggs.” He rubs a large, bloody hand over his face, and I can see truly how exhausted he is.

“She came out of nowhere, started attacking us. It was too late, we had to fight back. Got lucky she’s smaller than I’ve seen, but still, irrevocable damage.” He gestures towards the three bodies. “We managed to take her down and gather the injured – and the dead.” He lets out a large breath of air and starts to say something before stopping himself.

“Oh father, I am just glad you are alright. I-I’m sorry about your men.” I throw my arms around him, fighting back tears as he pulls me close and squeezes me tight. His chin brushes the top of my head, and I am reminded of when I was a little girl, and he would hug me like this every day.

“Fallon,” he whispers in my ear, startling me from my memory. I begin to pull away, but his arms keep me locked in his embrace. “Listen to me and listen to me closely. She was protecting her babies. I told them I’d get rid of the eggs, but I didn’t. I hid them just outside the gates in a thicket of bushes. Wrapped in my coat. I need you to get them for me and take them to the house. Can you do that?”

My mind seems to go completely blank for a moment. He took the dragon eggs. Has he gone mental? If the Governor finds out, he will be outraged. Dragons have been our enemy for as long as they have existed. They murder and maim. They offer no mercy when they cross our paths, proven in this case today by far. Analysts have begged for years to study them more closely. If they could just find an egg, or a small dragon to contain, they could make extensive headway in research. But it has always been forbidden, no matter the opportunities that could come from it. And now my father wants me to get the eggs he took? That he lied about to his men?

“Fallon!” He whispers fiercely, shaking my shoulders slightly to stir me from my thoughts. “Do you hear me?” He has pulled back now, his cold blue eyes peering into mine with such fierce intensity, I almost look away.

“Yes, yes I’ll get them.” I tell him, and he seems to relax at my words.

“Thank you. Go straight home, don’t stop for anyone. I will be there as soon as I can.”

He is marching off towards the Governor’s house before I can even form a response.

I survey the scene around us before I head towards the gates that have been left open, making sure nobody is around to witness me darting out of them. Everyone is still so engrossed in what has happened that I am being paid no mind, so I slip outside of the walls with ease. I scan the shrubbery that lines the exterior of the walls, bordering the tree line.

“Very descriptive, father.” I mutter, noting that there are numerous “thickets of bushes” near the gates.

I scan my surroundings more intently, taking in every space between the forest floor or gap in shrubbery I can find. I soon catch a glimpse of tan fabric and race towards the bush I spotted it in, letting out a sigh of relief as I recognize it as my father’s jacket. His coat is bundled loosely around the eggs, and I rewrap them as gently as I can, not daring to peek until I am safely home. I place the bundle inside my coat, wrapping my arm gently around it to keep it from falling, and begin a brisk walk home.

Once I am safely back inside the gates, I take off at a faster pace, noting that if I had taken a moment longer, I would’ve been locked outside the town. Soldiers were heaving the gates shut as I turned down Brick Row, and I shuddered to think what could’ve happened to me had I not made it back in time.

I opened the front door to the house as gently as possible, trying not to alert mother that I had arrived. She would ask too many questions, and I needed to secure the eggs as soon as possible. Luckily, she didn’t seem to be in this portion of the house, so I slipped down the hall and into my room soundlessly, closing the door behind me without even a creak. My heartbeat thrummed frantically in my chest once again as I placed the bundle gently onto the bed, slowly unraveling it. When I got to the last layer of the coat, I took a deep breath, slowly letting it out until I couldn’t put it off any longer and peeled the last bit of fabric back to reveal the eggs.

Three stunningly beautiful eggs lay before me, the light of the room seeming to be siphoned into them, creating a soft glow of light around them, almost like the halo of light around the moon at the peak of night.

That is when I saw the first crack.