Ormr

There weren’t always dragons in the valley, that is until the skies spat out an egg that seemed made entirely of iron. It leaked clouds that gave an odor that made those who tried to seek it spew what was left of their stomachs. Elders believed it to be a gift from Odin himself and the tribe did what little they could to harvest the abundant metal for weapons and farming tools, though barely enough was collected for the smith to make a fishing net no larger than two hands of fish.

The being itself was larger than two longhouses in length and was taller than one and half of the largest. When it landed, it flooded half the village with the river that they fished from and sunk every fishing vessel that was worthy enough of the paddle out. As soon as new boats were crafted, the strongest men paddled out with axes and shields in hand, awaiting the inevitable terror that they all had feared, but none came. The egg sat dormant enough that villagers began to ignore it and it became simply another part of their everyday lives, but the peace that they lived in with the egg came to an abrupt end with the village elder’s eldest offspring, a daughter, Asta, approached the egg.

She paddled out, alone, and under a blanket of stars with only a lantern to light her short voyage off the riverbank. The egg continued to give off its hideous odor and she had to wrap a wolf’s hide around her face to keep it from traversing her sensitive nostrils. Asta had paddled so close to the entity in the water that she nearly brushed the metal surface with her small boat. Aside from the gorges created from harvesting the metals, there were strange markings carved into its surface. With a cautious hand, she lifted her lantern to the side to try and make anything of them, but there was no use. The markings were foreign to her. She wondered if the surface felt the same as the etched blade of a warrior’s battle axe and reached a nervous hand out but stopped short. Asta looked back towards the bank, wondering if she should go back, a deep sense of dread and fear boiling up in her belly.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Looking back at the large shape, she gave her blonde braid a strong tug for luck and reached again for the metal surface. The metal saw cool in her hand and seemed to give of a faint hum of life like it was breathing. She ran slender fingers over the etched symbols and markings, tracing them with the tips trying to commit their shapes to memory.

The entity hissed and blew out huge plumes of mist that rocked Asta’s boat and nearly tipped her over if not for her quick adjustment. She watched at the egg began to crack along the symmetrical symbols that formed a near perfect triangle and create and opening large enough for a dozen men. A low grumble came from within and a pair of deep red eyes shined against the light of Asta’s lantern. They drew closer to her, slowly and methodically, studying her, tilting its head back and forth at her. It slowly peeked its head out, showing layers upon layers of bright red scales like a serpent and large curved horns like a ram.

Asta stared into its deep red eyes. Why was it here? How did it get here? Where did it come from? It was a creature she had only heard in storied told to her by her mother. Creatures that fought with gods and lived with them, but a dragon living and breathing in the real world. As she continued to stare into its big, bright red eyes, she inched towards it with an outstretched hand. Her breath hitched in her throat when she came within a hair’s width from the dragon’s snout. It closed its eyes and pressed its forehead to her palm and sighed while letting out a steaming breath from its nostrils that warmed the freezing air around Asta. She exhaled a sigh of relief and excitement.

Shouts began to arise from the small village and men and women came rushing out of their huts and firelit torches filled the dark paths between them. Asta turned and saw the groupings of archers with their bows already lit. The dragon growled and blew smoke out of its nostrils while it raised its head, liquid flames spilling from its jowls and steaming in the icy waters below. Flaming arrows streamed across the night sky towards Asta’s boat but were caught in the air by a stream of fire that burned them to ashen remnants that rained down on top of her.

Asta looked up to see the dragon peering at her village with murderous intent. It reared its head back and released an ear shattering roar that echoed along the valley walls. Asta wrapped her arms over her ears to block out the noise, but it still penetrated and pierced her eardrums. It belched out a stream of fire towards the wooden village that set the streets ablaze. Villagers screamed as they ran through with buckets from the fishing docks, staggering to snuff out the growing flames. The stronger villagers set to loading into the boats with axes and shields ready to take on the scaled beast, but they barely made it half way across the river before the dragon let out another roar and a stream of fire that scorched the boats and their sailors.

Asta gasped at the sight of so much destruction as a third bout of fire turned the deep night into a bright evening. She reached a hand out to the flames but was snatched up in the sharp taloned paw of the dragon and the two took flight. The boat and the egg shrank beneath her until they disappeared completely into the darkness. The only thing she could still see below was growing flames and the plumes of smoke that billowed into the air.

This was the night that the raven tribe took flight. This was the night Asta disappeared. This was the night dragons took their place among the humans.