The Dragon's Den

There weren't always dragons in the valley. Yet, now that it was full, it was a breathtaking and heartbreaking view. Dragons of every color and variety were nestled in every crevice – stretched out under every shaded grove. They darted through the skies, flying across to the mountains that lined the valley or swirling down to bathe, drink, or fish in the large lake below. While hundreds of dragons were seen glittering under the high sun, seemingly content in their own business, none of them were aware of the figure watching them from a distance.

Fig was nestled up high in an oak, straddling one of the thicker branches in its crown. She, like most of her lizardfolk kin, was thin but muscular under her scaled skin. Her skin tone was a light green and a fringe of hardened scales traveled from her chin and neck, disappearing beneath the light tunic she wore beneath her leather studded armor. The crest atop her head arched over the back of her neck while her face slanted downwards to a thin mouth that naturally pulled down at the corners. While she might share many of these similarities with other lizardfolk, there was one trait that set her apart. Her eyes, two round domes that sat on either side of her face, were completely covered with her eyelids, apart from a small hole directly in the center. These eyes were usually constantly swiveling around, taking in two different focus points simultaneously.

The oak she was nestled in was perched at the top of one of the many foothills near the base of the mountains, providing a perfect view of the valley below her. The valley had been nameless before the dragons first started appearing, but now it was called The Dragon’s Den. Her ever-darting gaze was fixed, though temporarily, on the Den and its many inhabitants. She, like many of the locals here, was beginning to worry about the number of dragons and the increased toll it was taking on the country. The dragon population had never been an issue, but that cursed dark power in the west had tipped the balance. Now the dragons, who had always been peaceful – content to live their own lives unbothered, were fast becoming restless.

Over the past ten years, dragons had fled the west in droves. Since that dark power first took hold within the continent Atria, it had begun strangling the world. Now, after centuries of suffocation, its influence had finally begun to show upon the world as a whole.

A shadow passed above and one of Fig’s eyes darted upward. A rose-hued dragon was soaring above her, eyes closed as it enjoyed the warm breeze helping keep it aloft with hardly a flutter of its wings. She turned her gaze back to the Den, but one eye quickly swiveled behind her as she heard someone approaching. Her attention split, Fig simultaneously watched a cerulean dragon crawl out from under a tree towards a red dragon, who’s lip curled in a snarl she was too far away to hear, and the figures who appeared over the rim of the hill behind her. The trio were of three different races; an elf, a dwarf, and a human.

The dwarf was clutching at his sides, apparently winded from the climb, while the others seemed to be fairing slightly better. The dwarf wore rather long robes, which were not practical in climbing hills or hiking in any manner, while the elf and human wore uniforms. It was mostly black and silver; black boots, pants, and a tunic, with a tailed overcoat trimmed in silver. They wore silver bracers on each arm and swords strapped to their waists.

With a last glance with both eyes at the view of the Den, Fig began climbing down from the oak. Her pincerlike hands and bare feet allowed her to grip each branch firmly as she descended and her three-hundred and sixty degree view helped her navigate her way down confidently. Dropping the last five feet to the ground, Fig landed lightly then straightened to face those approaching.

One end of her thinly lipped mouth quirked up in a smirk. “You didn’t have to leave your library for this, Theo,” she said to the dwarf in her rasping tones.

Theo looked affronted. “And miss meeting a Descendant for the first time? Absolutely not. They’re directly connected with the Seven! I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

“They’re just like any of us,” the human, Rose, said with a sigh that indicated this wasn’t the first conversation on the subject they’d had. “And I’ve met Theia before. She prefers not to be treated much differently than anyone else.”

“Regardless,” Theo said, waving a hand and ignoring Fig’s hissing laughter. “I am eager to meet the woman heading the task of getting Razier back.”

“We should get going,” said the elf, speaking for the first time. “We’ll not want to be late.”

As the four began walking along the hill, Fig turned one of her eyes to look at the elf. “Did Erto agree to come along for this meeting, Zev?”

He nodded. “She did express interest in this meeting and I believe she will want to talk to Theia in person in order to get a better understanding of what is happening.” He cast her a sideways look. “From what I am aware of, your kind like to stick to themselves mostly and only interact with the other races if necessary.”

Fig shrugged at this. He wasn’t wrong; of all the lizardfolk that lived within Taria’s continents, her race — the Chamaelid Lizardfolk — were the most reclusive. “We like our privacy. Things always seem to become more complicated when other people are involved.”

Rose barked out a laugh. “Yes, that does always seem to be the case.”

Fig caught a glance of Theo’s frown as he looked up at her. “But the eldest of your race do keep in touch don’t they? Otherwise, I don’t believe Erto would be interested in ‘learning more’ about what is happening. If you lived in complete seclusion, you would know next to nothing about what is happening in the world.”

Fig turned her head to fix the dwarf with both of her eyes, considering. It was true to an extent: her race preferred to live alone while still keeping in touch with one another. Age or even experience did not matter. But she wondered if admitting this would somehow be seen as a slight against her people. “Yes,” she finally answered, deciding not to elaborate.

“The meeting will be right outside Rine. She doesn’t want to appear in sight of the valley for fear that her presence might start something,” Rose said, redirecting the conversation. Fig cast her a grateful glance.

Theo looked up at her quickly, looking startled. “Do you think that would happen?”

Rose grinned at him. “It’s not bad. Last time she decided to land in a clearing in the Den, and the dragons swarmed her. It took her hours to address their concerns and we had to postpone our meeting for almost two days.”

“It was quite the fiasco,” Zev agreed. “But you know Theia; she couldn’t ignore them.”

Fig’s mouth quirked up in another smile. “Theia can’t turn down anyone who is in distress.”

“So, to avoid delaying our meeting, we’re to meet in a secluded clearing to discuss our next steps and then she’ll fly to the Den to comfort those who have taken refuge in the valley,” Rose continued from her earlier point.

Fig, who had been feeling light hearted at the three friends’ banter, felt her mood dim slightly. “Do we know what our next steps are going to be?”

The mood of the trio also dimmed. “I don’t think it’s right to speculate,” Theo said cautiously. “We know the gist of what is happening in Atria, the problem is actually putting a stop to it. We can come up with as many plans, thoughts, or actions as we’d like, but that won’t change anything unless the Seven or the Descendants decide to do something about it.”

Zev nodded glumly. “We also know very little about the inner workings of Venom. They put up severe defenses against any outsiders with the groups of scouts that they send out to do their dirty work. Even though we’ve been trying for centuries, we cannot break through to their leaders. Our spies can only glean so much in their current circumstances.”

Rose clicked her tongue then addressed Fig’s question directly. “When Theia reached out to set up this meeting, her letter also mentioned that she had come up with a plan that had been sanctioned by her mother.”

One of Fig’s eyes swiveled to fix on her. “Really?”

She nodded, looking a little strained. “The other six would have done something by now, but they’re unable to reach out to Razier. It’s as though they are trapped in that place, and the others cannot break through whatever invisible barrier is separating them, keeping the Six from becoming Seven again.”

Both of Fig’s eyes returned to the road in front of her, before her left eye quickly darted upwards as another shadow passed over them. A purple and blue dragon flew back towards the way they had come, apparently headed directly towards the Den. She grew even more melancholic. Once, the sight of a dragon had filled her with joy and awe, but these days it only made her heart ache.

Growing up, she had heard stories of The Seven: seven elemental dragons that worked together to keep balance in the world. It was because of them that the Teria flourished, that life itself took root and grew. Many years ago, the people used to worship these entities, but the practice has faded significantly as the world aged. Very few are able to see The Seven who had turned their full attention towards Atria, ever since Razier had been targeted and separated from them. Their descendants, however, mingled freely among the people, though their goal was also to free Razier and put a stop to the darkness in the West.

The dragons were all descendants of The Seven, but a fair few had the ability to turn human. Theia was a direct descendant of Ziss, the Fire Elemental, who resided mostly in the hottest regions of Teria. She was born from the molten embers of an erupting volcano combined with Ziss’ power. There were very few like Theia, yet all Descendants — human, dragon, or a combination of the two — considered themselves closely connected to one another. Much like we lizardfolk, I suppose, Fig mused, scratching her dewlap.

As she contemplated, the four made their way into the quaint town of Rine. Nestled within the foothills of the Den, Rine was mostly inhabited by those individuals who had taken an interest in watching over the Den and doing what they could to reduce the amount of aggressions between the increasing dragon population. There were several of Fig’s own race walking along the streets accompanied by many other races including elves, dwarfs, daemonics, dragonborns, gnomes, and halflings.

The town itself consisted of a few shops, a blacksmith, a tailor, an inn and tavern, a town hall, a guildhall, and a scattering of homes. The buildings were built with the oak trees that were plentiful in and outside of the Den and, apart from the thatched roofing that topped the living quarters of Rine, their roofs were planked. As they made their way into town, passing by one of several guard houses, Fig spotted a group of individuals huddled around the captain of the guard, Joshua, all of whom wore brown and green uniforms under half plate armor. Keeping one eye on them, she watched as they spoke together urgently. Then, as Joshua waved a hand, the group quickly walked back up the path she and her companions had just traveled.

“Hope there’s no trouble,” Fig said, continuing to watch the group.

“What’s that?” Zev asked, turning to look at her over a shoulder.

“Nothing,” Fig said evenly, returning her eye to look forward once again.

Without anything more interesting happening, they walked through Rine, following the road that led to the mountain pass and connected the Den with the rest of the continent. Thirty minutes out of town they turned off the path and into the sparse forest which eventually opened up into a wide clearing. Tents were erected throughout it accompanied by a larger canvas pavilion. Inside this were an assembly of chairs and tables and, in its center, stood several people conversing in hushed tones. Fig and the others made their way towards the group of people who looked up at their approach.

Two of them were Fig’s own people; the lizardfolk who had been watching over the Den and its occupants for as long as Fig could remember. Apple, the male on the left, was a cyan and red color with a dewlap and crest that was quite a bit larger than her’s and the other male standing next to him. Fig felt a fluttering in her stomach at the sight of him and the dark almost blue gleam that could be seen through the small opening of his eye. The other male, Maple, was a dark green, similar to Fig’s own tone, and had three large horns protruding out from his face; two above each eye and one like a large nose. Maple was taller and more muscular than both Fig and Apple and — as Fig had always noticed being in the same room as him — always seemed to take up far more room than anyone else. Both were wearing light leather armor and had longbows strapped to their back accompanied by a quiver full of arrows.

The third was a tall, curvy woman with long flaming red hair that had been braided tightly along her skull back into a ponytail. Fig supposed that the woman was what some may call beautiful, with her flawless olive toned skin, dark blue eyes, angular face, and full lips. She would have been taken for a human if it hadn’t been for the horns curling out from either side of her head, which curved and angled on either side of her cheeks.

Unlike her companions, she wore half-plate and chainmail armor. Under one arm she had tucked an elegant staff, topped with an amber stone that gleamed orange even under the shadow of the pavilion. The helmet tucked under one of her arms was unadorned apart from a symbol seemingly branded into the side; a heptagon with lines drawn starting from each point and meeting in the middle. One odd detail about the helmet, Fig noticed, was there was no visor.

She stepped forward as the others reached her. “Rose, it’s about time.”

“Apologies, Theia.” Rose said, bowing her head slightly. “We had to pick up Fig here.”

“Ah.” Though her body and head turned towards Fig, her eyes were staring at a point just past her towards the ground. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you from Erto. She says you are an accomplished archer.”

“I’ve some talent,” Fig agreed, unable to prevent the small smile at the praise from the leader. “Is Erto here?”

“Not yet,” Apple said in his rasping tenor, walking forward and smiling at Fig. “It is good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

Fig eagerly moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, tugging him closer. “Agreed.”

“You’ve met Zev,” Rose said. “But Theo, our researcher and accountant, has also decided to join us today, specifically to get a first hand report of the impact the fleeing dragons from Atria are having on our continent. He also wanted to have a chance to meet you for the first time.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Theo said, his voice slightly breathless. “To meet one of the descendants of The Seven is quite an honor.”

One of Fig's eyes swiveled around as she broke away from Apple and, just as she thought, saw Theia’s expression grow slightly uncomfortable. “You don’t have to speak to me so formally,” she said. “But it is an honor to meet anyone who has put so much effort into taking care of my kin here in the Den.”

“It’s growing increasingly difficult as the weeks go by,” Zev said, waving a hand impatiently. “Which should turn our attention to the problem at large, what with pleasantries out of the way.”

“We are still waiting on Erto,” Maple said, who had gone around the group to shake hands in greeting. “She will be here shortly, I believe.”

“You don’t have to wait too long,” a voice said, sounding slightly amused. They all turned to see a rather old chamaelid leaning heavily on a stick. Erto’s back was bent in age and her robes seemed to hang loosely on her thin frame. Her once vibrant colors of striped green and yellow were now dulled to look like the same color and her large crown drooped slightly over the back of her neck. “Did I miss anything important?”

“We’d just arrived,” Fig said, bowing her head respectfully. “And as Zev had just said, we were getting pleasantries out of the way.” He shot her a small glare at the teasing tone in her voice.

“Perfect,” Erto said, walking to a chair that was nestled under the shade of the pavilion on a corner. “Then let’s get right down to it shall we. Theia, what have you learned from the other countries you’ve visited.”

Theia, whose mouth had been quirked up in amusement, now grew serious. “Maple, could you bring a table over here please?”

As he did what he was asked, Theia reached into the satchel that was wrapped around her shoulders and pulled out a scroll, which she placed upon the table. Using stones to lay it flat, she unfurled a map of the known world.

“Dragons from every continent are restless. They can sense the change – have been sensing it for a long time now. But they’ve become worried since the blight has begun. In Atria it is most pronounced; fields are decaying, rivers drying up, orchards are withering. Farmers are finding it harder and harder to produce healthy stock and fishermen are needed to travel further and further to bring in anything.” She grimaced. “As you know, the dragons themselves are fleeing the country. Venom has been targeting dragons in recent years. As far as we know, they have been rarely successful in trapping or killing us.”

Here she grimaced and gestured at the map. “I am confident that this can continue, and that is not the real issue I wanted to bring us together to discuss. The blight is something we need to seriously consider and the meaning as to why it is happening.” Her expression turned pained. “We fear it might mean Razier is in worse shape than we might have first thought.”

Fig shifted uncomfortably, one of her eyes cast over to look at Apple, whose thin mouth was also turned down in a worried line.

“What do you think it might mean?” Theo asked, his voice hushed.

Theia’s jaw clenched. “It could be that, after Venom’s countless attempts, Razier is…” her voice broke slightly before she could finish. She closed her eyes as though her next words pained her greatly. “Razier is dying.”

Fig felt a lurching dread take hold of her stomach. “That can’t be possible. No one can kill one of The Seven. They… they’re the elements themselves, life themselves.”

“I don’t think we should be getting quite concerned as that, just yet anyway.” Theo said in his low voice calming, though it held a worried edge. “As you said, this is just speculation and theory. Do we have any way of knowing it is true? Can we reach Razier to check on them?”

Theia smiled at his words, though it was tight and held no true warmth. “That is why I have come to speak with all of you.”

“Captain Zev!” A voice called out suddenly, making them all turn at the sound. The figure running up to them was dressed in a uniform similar to Rose’s and the captain with a sword strapped to his side’s. “We’ve just received news from Atria. Venom–” the messenger suddenly faltered upon seeing Theia.

“Go on,” Zev said impatiently, waving a hand.

Casting another wary look at Theia, the scout addressed his captain. “As ordered, a group had been keeping track of the dragons who had not yet fled Atria. They just sent word. It appears that, five days ago, Venom killed Strike.”

The room went absolutely still and silent, both of Fig’s eyes and that of her fellow chamaelids were fixed unmoving on the messenger.

“Strike?” Theia asked, her voice holding the barest of trembles. Fig felt a heat flow out from the woman and her hair suddenly looked as though it was made of molten fire.

“Y-yes,” the messenger stammered. “Our people were unable to make it to him in time, but they are currently tracking down the group who had killed him and are planning–”

Theia let out a snarl, and the grass upon which she stood began to smolder and burn. “They’re killing hatchlings now?! Strike had hardly reached his fortieth year!”

“Theia,” the steady rasp of Erto seemed to cut through the dragon's dismay and the heat inside of the tent lessened slightly. “We need to stay calm in situations like this. I also believe that this brings more reason to your plan, which I’m sure I can guess at. You wish to take a team and go to Atria yourself, to do what you can for Razier and the innocents that live there.” Theia had turned her attention to the old chamaelid. She nodded, seemingly unable to speak for the moment.

“I think that is a good plan,” Zev spoke up quietly. “The team will be able to assess the damage and perhaps learn more from our spies in person that we could through our letters and messages.”

“Who would you take with you?” Theo asked, looking both intrigued and alarmed at the thought of traveling so far.

“I will go,” Rose said, stepping forward, a blazing look of determination on her face. “If I can do anything to stop Venom, I will. They need to be stopped, not just for our dragons, but for every living person in this world.”

“I was hoping that a chamaelid would accompany us,” Theia said. Though her voice was now calm, it still held a simmering, burning anger. “Specifically someone who knows what is both happening here and who might get in touch with others of their kind in Atria who might be of assistance.”

Maple, Fig, and Apple exchanged looks. “That would be me, wouldn’t it?” Fig asked. “Because of my talent.”

Erto smiled. “It is one that isn’t very common, but not too rare among us. And you have been perfecting it since you were a child, correct?” To which Fig nodded.

“I was hoping,” Theia repeated. “It does not mean you must go. It is a request, not an order.”

Fig stared at her, then one of her eyes swiveled to look at the map and the other turned to look at the messenger who had come with such horrible news. She thought of all the hardships of the dragons and everyone who lived near or next to the Den. What Venom had been doing for centuries and how they had hardly been able to make much of a dent to oppose them. If she and Theia could make it to Atria, would they be able to do much of anything? Fig honestly couldn’t see what good it would do, but sitting here in the Den, in Rine, or any of the towns and cities here and simply watching the world crumble? That was something she couldn’t do either.

“If you believe it will help, I will come,” she said slowly, but firmly. “Perhaps I will get a chance to show Venom what they are truly up against.”

A smile, wide and humorless now crossed Theia’s face. “I am right there with you. I will make sure each and every one of them pay for what they have done.”

“Let’s bash some skulls,” Rose said, smirking as she punched one fist into the palm of her other hand.

Fig's thoughts now turned to the town and of Joshua, who she had spotted near the entrance giving orders. She thought of his body structure, his facial features, the short dark hair atop his head and willed it to be her own. The scales of her skin began to change, turning slowly into smooth skin and sprouting hair. The crown on her head shrank and the tickling, itching sensation told her dark hair was now growing out of the top of her head. Her face shrank into her skull and her eyes moved towards the front of her face. Suddenly she found she could blink, something she knew she would never get used to, no matter how many times she would undergo this transformation.

Once her skin stopped tingling, she looked down at her now ten tanned fingers and, beneath them, ten toes. “Well,” she said, her voice now far deeper and more human. “When do we leave?”