Out of Isolation

Chapter One: Thunder from the Peaks

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

It had always been peaceful, quiet, undisturbed. The Vorminthian Mountains surrounding our village were the highest in these lands, and formed a barrier that not even the most spirited of birds could surpass. We were too distant to be politically or strategically useful, and too modest to be worth pillaging. We lived in true isolation, and that isolation afforded us peace that the cities and towns of the Moorisian Empire could never know.

But that isolation also bred ignorance, and left us unguarded against the dangers the empire had stirred up.

I was still a young girl when the roars first echoed through the valley. I paused my work in my father's alchemy garden to peer up at the peaks, looking for the source of the mysterious noise that echoed off the stony reaches around us. I turned to my father pulling weeds along side me.

"Not to worry, Esmae." He said quietly, with an aura of practiced calm. "Whatever it is remains far off yet, and has no reason to brave the peaks." I nodded and returned to my work, but noticed my father never took his eyes from the skies.

That night after my father had laid me to bed, I could hear a great many townsfolk gathered in the tavern across the street. This was normal, the villagers often congregated at Miss Goldenbell's place after their daily labors were complete, to drink and eat and listen to Ganys tell the stories passed down through his family. But today their tones were different. Angry. Fearful. They were too far away for me to hear what was said at the time, but as the days passed and the roars grew in number, the subject could be heard whispered among the adults.

Dragons.

We had heard about dragons in Ganys's stories of course. Ancient tales of great winged beasts. Those who slayed them. Those who tamed them. How they had long ago retreated to their isolated roosts in the smaller Velmaeri mountains to our east, and were thought to have been dead or dormant for several centuries. But as the winged shadows appeared over the peaks and grew closer every day, our suspicions became reality. The dragons were awake, and they were coming here.

Every night the adults gathered together, arguing about what was to be done. about what could be done. Some thought the dragons could be reasoned with, or else bribed and bartered to leave us in peace. Others insisted that they at least die in their homeland, rather than risk trying to escape through the mountains.

It was the butcher, Morhaud, who ultimately saved us. He came to our house late one night to talk with my father. I was supposed to be in bed, but had snuck to the kitchen door to hear what they were saying.

"I found a way Yorril -"

"I told you before, I'm not risking the journey with my daughters. They're too young, they won't survive the cold and thin air."

"I understand, but listen, what if we didn't go over the mountains?"

"I thought you were against Ganys's idea of trying to navigate the caves."

"I was, and for good reason. But then I found this while I was packing up the house." Through the door I could hear Morhaud shuffling through a knapsack and the slapping something on the table. There was a beat of silence before my father spoke.

"A moldy old journal? So what?" I could hear Morhaud let out a grunt of exasperation and begin thumbing through pages. My father sneezed as Morhaud began to explain.

"Specifically, it's the journal of Corvald Stonerend, My forefather who was among the first people to settle in the valley two hundred years ago. Most of the pages are too faded to make out, but look here, towards the end of the book."

"He drew a map of the caves."

"And more importantly, marked his path through them for us. Not only that but the previous fifteen pages describe one of his journeys through the tunnels." There was another moment of silence before my father spoke.

"What aren't you telling me, Morhaud?"

"There are ... dangers. Corvald describes a great deal of catastrophes that befell his crew. Collapsing tunnels, poisonous air, Cave Sickness, and a fair share of feral goblins - "

"So just as dangerous as going over the mountains."

"Yes, but listen. Even with all of that he was still able to lead settlers to this valley. Surely that means he worked out a safe enough method of getting through the caves? Besides, a lot of the dangers he mentions should be small potatoes for an alchemist like yourself." There was a creak as my father leaned back in his chair.

"Who else have you told?"

"Ari knows, she was with me when I found it, though we haven't told the kids yet. I told Ganys too, since the cave was his idea in the first place. He said he would spread the word to the folks who were already on board."

"Gods guard us." My father sighed "If you're wrong about this Morhaud, my last act will be to grind your bones into one of my Fertilizing Elixirs."

"If I'm wrong, I'll probably be too dead to complain."