Oath of the Dragon

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley.” The elderly man said between gritted teeth as he puffed on his carven wooden pipe. “There weren’t papa?” A pair of big questioning eyes looked up at him. “No little one,” He smiled down at the little girl before him, the fire's reflection flickering in her eyes. He sighed, and for a moment forgot all about the children gathered around him waiting for a story by the evening fire. He was in another time and another place as he continued, “There was a time, long ago, that they were all but forgotten to the people of the valley. To them, dragons an their riders were the stuff of legends an myths, jus stories told to children by the fire.” “How can that be Papa?” The same little girl interrupted him, pulling slightly on the arm of his robe. There was determination in her eyes as if she believed she could root out the truth in his tale if she asked the right questions.

“Well, there hadn’t been a dragon sightin' fur centuries,” the man said as he picked up the tenacious child in his arms and placed her on his lap, hoping that this way she might not interrupt his story quite so much. He didn’t have much faith in that but continued on anyway. “Mos people if they don’t see somethin', really see it, with their own two eyes, then they can tell themself it donn'it exist. People are good at deceivin' themselfs, they believe what they want to believe. It donn'it matter whats in front of them, if they can ignore it, you can bet they will. However it happened, the people of the valley forgot, an they forgot more than jus the dragons, they also forgot about the world outside of their valley. That would turn out to be a deadly mistake."

“Fur the people outside the valley never forgot about the dragons or the people they believed worship them. No, they were all too aware of their reclusive neighbors, believin' them to be monsters of a forgotten age. Young boys up to no good would often band together an dare each other to go into the valley, tryin' to go further than the boy before, an run home tellin' tales about how they saw lizard people an massive dragons-” “But there are no lizard people in the valley,” the girl on his lap proclaimed, too young to understand the full extent of his words. “No, child there aren’t, but people will do strange things when they're afraid, they twist things, convince themselfs they see things when there is nothin' there.” She stared at him as if contemplating his answer before the determination and resolve set back in her face, “Well that's just silly.” She said in such a matter a fact tone, that he believed if there were a lizard person standing right in front of her that it wouldn’t phase her in the least, her face as stony with determination as it was now. “Almos as silly as a little girl who keeps interruptin' her Papa’s story,” he said in a stern tone and gave her a meaningful look that had her expression softening a bit from his scolding.

“What happened next?” The other children said eagerly, they were so tightly crowed around the elderly man that he could not hope to escape in any direction, he half wondered to himself if that had been purposeful. He took another long pull of his pipe and released the smoke out in a sigh as he continued on with his tale. “Stories of the monsters that lived in the valley spread wide an far, an eventually fell on the ears of a young an foolish King determined to get the favor of his people. So he vowed to slay the beasts that plagued their dreams, fouled their crops, an stole their women an children, an with that he lead the full force of his army into the mountains.

"They struck the city of the valley at night, an with no watch set up, the peaceful people of the valley had no warnin' as invaders came into their homes an slaughtered them as they lay sleepin'. Eventually, the screams of those bein' attacked woke an warned the others, they came out to a scene bathed in fire and blood, some of the men of the valley tried to fight off the intruders with their pitchforks an axes, but few had any experience wieldin' a weapon an they were staggeringly outmatched against the invaders.

"The King of the valley, looked down on his burnin' city from his house on the highest hill, he watched as his people were slaughtered before him, an he cried. He cried an screamed as those he loved mos were taken away from him, an in an attempt to try to save his people he cut open a jagged wound across his chest. Blood poured from it as his head went back an he fell to his knees chantin' in the ancient speech of his ancestors. His eyes rolled back an his body convulsed, the sky suddenly erupted in a thunderous rage an the wind whipped up as the King’s body crumpled.

"Fur a moment there was an eerie silence, all who fought stilled their blades an gazed up at the sky, those frantically runnin' to escape the destruction of their home paused mid-step, all eyes were on the highest hill. All of a sudden they heard flappin', the flappin' of massive leathery wings, comin' closer an closer, but in the cloudy evenin', they could see nothin'. Then there erupted a mighty roar, unlike anyone had heard fur centuries, as the dragons came over the hill, sweepin' in an burnin' all that was before them. Those that were already tryin' to escape resumed their flight with even more haste, the men fightin' dropped their weapons an fled with the others, while the invaders attempted to square off against their newest enemy, but now they were the ones outmatched an it wasn't long before they were fleein' with the rest. The dragons continued to wreak their havoc, burnin' an tearin' down everythin' in sight, till there was nothin' left of the city of the valley but tumbled ruins.

“In the end, the foolish King went home with jus over half his army, claimin' victory, fur he had destroyed the Cursed One's city, an those that were left were a shadow of the monsters they once were, so he said. The people of the valley were exiled from their homeland, an anywhere they went for help they were met with screams an shrieks, iron an steel. They soon learned there was no place fur them amongst the humans an retreated into the forests an the mountains, never stayin' in one place for long. An never ever enterin' the valley.” The elderly man finished his tale with a sad sigh and looked around, the children had not been the only ones listening and he could see on the faces of the men, women, and children a mix of awe, and sadness, some even had tears in their eyes, though no doubt they would all blame it on smoke from the fire. There was only one face that remained unchanged from when he started his woeful tale, and she looked up from his lap with the fire reflecting in her slitted amber-colored eyes and determination set in her small brow.

…

17 years later.

Thora shifted her position slightly, trying to relieve the cramping in her legs. She had been sitting on her perch since the dusky grey dawn was just starting to stretch across the sky, it was now just past midday, her legs and patience were tiring. “This is what I get for listening to that fool of a Fae,” Thora grumbled to herself, as she shifted her position once again keeping her eyes glued to the disused road that ran down from the rim of the mountains into the valley below. She sighed again, it wasn’t as if Cyprian’s information had been bad, she had investigated immediately, scouring the roads that came down from the mountains to see if there were any truth to the Fae’s claims of people entering the valley, and sure enough, there were tracks leading into the mountains, lots of them.

She had spent almost a whole day following and examining the tracks, she gleaned that there were several carts pulled by oxen, she couldn’t say for sure how many, and there were also several sets of horse prints, but the tracks that intrigued her most were the footprints, soldiers footprints. There had been dozens of them, and when she went back again checking their trail up to the mountain she found sure signs of the soldiers. Neat campsites had been strategically chosen and cleaned up to look like no one had been there, but she grew up in these woods and her eyes saw things that humans one would miss. The freshly upturned dirt had been lightly stamped on to blend it in with the hard-packed ground around it, but she knew that if she dug up that dirt she’d find the remains of a buried fire, there were several of them around the campsite, some concealed better than others, but none could hide from her trained eyes.

There were other signs too, the slightest impressions of tents on the grass, the holes left by the stakes in the soft earth, a couple of well-concealed traps that had been left behind, no doubt to be checked on their return journey. That was good, it meant that they planned on coming back the same way, and likely within a few days.

That had been four days ago now, and Thora was beginning to doubt that whoever had gone into the valley would be coming out again. She gazed down from her perch in one of the taller trees that blanketed the rim of the mountain, it afforded her a good view not only of the road but of the valley below, she gazed at it longingly. The gorge was beautiful from here, covered in a lush forest from the rim of the mountains to the basin, with cold springs that rushed down from the highest peaks and emptied out into a clear blue lake on the valley floor. But what really captured Thora’s eye was the ruined remains of a city that sprawled naturally from the lake’s edge up into the forest straight into the edges of the mountains directly across from her. Her ancestral home.

Tears started to well in her eyes from nostalgia for a past she never even knew. She shook her head, she was being foolish, her people were forbidden from entering the valley, a rule that she was probably testing the limits of as it was, never mind seeing the ruins of the old city. She had tried to convince her Papa once to let her go to the other side of the mountains, the side closest to the city, but he had forbidden her and anyone else, it was too dangerous he had said, the dragons congregated to closely over there.

Suddenly Thora was pulled from her thoughts by movement further down the road, her wait had finally paid off. Coming into her view was a caravan of soldiers, she estimated their numbers to be just over 50, some were mounted on black geldings, others sat driving the oxen pulled carts, while most marched alongside the carts and horses all clad in their silver mail and black livery.

Thora moved out a little further on her perch to get a better view of the troops, and after settling into place, she enhanced her sight, allowing the thin film of her third eyelid to come over her eyes. Instantly her sight was more vivid, colors that had been invisible to her eyes previously suddenly bloomed before her making the world around her more vibrant, the leaves of the trees surrounding her were no longer all the same verdant green, they were emerald, olive, sage, moss, chartreuse and many other colors between. She contracted her eyes, allowing her to see the most minute details of the military caravan, from the steam of the horses' breath to the crumbs that were braided into the beard of the portly soldier riding one of the black geldings.

She scanned the convoy for any sign of a sigil or emblem, her eyes eventually settling on the Black Flame crest resting at the portly soldier’s breast. Her skin crawled, she had to suppress a low growl, the Black Flame was the sigil of the Black King of Azziur, descendant of the King who invaded the city of the valley almost a hundred years ago. Thora reigned in her anger, letting it simmer just below the surface, This is an intelligence mission, she thought to herself, not a solo raid. She continued her surveillance, focusing on the carts now to distract herself from her rage, there were five in total, each pulled by four oxen, and covered with thick tan cloth. Whatever was inside was clearly heavy, and had to be valuable for the King to send his soldiers into the valley knowing that most who entered the valley rarely returned.

As she scanned the caravan of soldiers again she noticed that some horses were riderless, clearly, not all of the soldiers made it out of the valley alive. That gave Thora a small amount of satisfaction, They were lucky to have made it out at all. She was trying to puzzle out what could possibly be under the tarps, when suddenly a bird that had been nestled in the highest reaches of the tree she was in startled, flying up into the sky cawing and cackling wildly. Other birds around her followed suit, all wildly flapping their wings and calling out as if warning the others of some unseen threat. Thora scanned the forest around her searching for whatever frightened the birds, but she could find nothing.

She glanced back toward the road where the military caravan was, they had stopped dead in their tracks, she scanned it quickly counting. . . only about half the soldiers remained. “Shit,” Thora exclaimed under her breath as she pressed herself against the trunk of the tree, crouching low and attempting to conceal herself in the thick foliage. She scanned the forest floor around her, nothing there, yet. Then Thora did what she trained herself to do, what all of her people trained themselves to do, she listened. She closed her eyes and shut off all her other senses, she listened to the forest around her letting it paint a clear picture in her mind. She heard the quiet murmur of the trees around her as their leaves rustled in the light wind, and the distant cawing of the birds fading away as they flew further and further, the twinkling of a small stream half a league from her. Then she finally heard it, what she was looking for, the soft footfalls and crunch of the soldiers' steps, they were only about 30 paces from her and getting closer. Her amber-slited eyes snapped open and a smirk started to spread across her tawny face, it was time to have some fun.