The Fall of the Undying

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. That simple fact represented the complete failure of the Elder’s promises.

From his earliest memories, Seran could recall the calm teachings of the Elder. She would shift in her humble wooden chair and smile slightly, wrinkles crowning her face with an air of dignity and authority. Seran and all his young peers would sit cross-legged, forming a semicircle in front of her as she told tales of struggles past. She spoke of days when fear was more common than hope. She spoke of a world collapsing on itself, civilizations tumbling down as darkness covered the land. But in spite of everything, the Valley remained. The humble people of the Elkoi and the divine race of dragons stayed safe in this peaceful vale, a sole beacon in a dark world. There had always been dragons in the Valley, the Elder said, and there always would be. They were a sacred and deathless race, forever protectors of this land.

Seran would listen eagerly to these teachings, the stories of pain that the Elder shared as distant to him as fairy tales. And when the lesson was over, he and his friends would run about, chasing each other or playfully wrestling, innocent to the reality of what they had just heard. They didn’t question why the old world had collapsed. They didn’t question why the Valley was safe and elsewhere was not. This was all they knew, and it was all their parents and their parents’ parents had ever known. It had always been this way, assured the Elder, and it always would be. She would always be here to lead the Elkoi. The Valley would always be safe. And there would always be dragons in the Valley. The generations would come and go, passing into memory, but the eternal guidance of the Elder and the dragons would remain.

But she was wrong. The Elder wasn’t always there to lead the Elkoi. The Valley wasn’t always safe. And there weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Seran considered this ruefully as he sat perched atop the roof of his house, waiting for the return of the first delegation. What a terrible irony, that the mortal should outlast the immortal! How could he and the rest of the Elkoi, moribund as they were, live to see the other side of the end of time, the ultimate collapse of the eternal? What twist of fate was this?

He sighed. This used to be a view he loved. From here he could see a wide swath of the Valley, and not so long ago, this area would have been filled with activity and vitality. But now it was eerily quiet. No dragons swam through the air, no children ran around happily, and a concerning fraction of the plant life was now brown and withered. The Valley was dying.

And that was why the delegation had been sent out. A group of twelve men and women chosen by lot had been sent to venture out of the Valley for a week in hopes that they would discover another place of refuge, or at least some reliable resources. If they found nothing, another delegation would be sent to look in another direction, and so on until a source of hope was found. The first group was scheduled to be returning any time now, and Seran wanted to be the first to know the results of the search. The outside world had long held a sort of morbid fascination in his mind – the allure of the great and dangerous unknown. But increasingly, he felt an apprehension towards it, as suddenly it had become so important to the lives of the Elkoi. And since he had recently come of age, a simple drawing of lots might send him venturing out into that unknown before long. Thus, Seran wasn’t really sure whether it was interest or fear that kept him waiting here. But either way, wait he did.

He tapped his right thumb rhythmically against his left hand. His toes squirmed in his sandals. He picked up an acorn off of the roof and began to roll it around on his fingers. And finally, he saw him. A lone figure was descending into the Valley from a pass on one of the bordering mountains. He was too far away for Seran to tell who exactly he was; however, no one but a returning member of the delegation would have any reason to be out that far. Seran forgot about the very fascinating acorn and scrambled to climb off of the roof. Once he had made it to the ground, he took off running. As he ran towards the approaching figure, he noticed something concerning: He was alone. Maybe this person wasn’t from the delegation. But what were they doing up there? Then a more concerning possibility entered Seran’s mind. What if the rest of the delegation didn’t make it? His pace slowed as this darker possibility began to seem very real. He kept glancing up behind where the figure was, hoping to see eleven more just like it, but they never appeared.

At last, he got close enough to make out the approacher more clearly. It was a man, middle-aged, dark, messy hair. Seran recognized him as Olyn, a member of the tailors’ guild.

“Olyn! Olyn!” Seran called out. “What happened? Where is everyone else?”

Olyn did not respond, but simply continued to walk staggeringly forward. “Olyn, are you alright?” Seran noticed that he was covered in grime – dirt and maybe even blood – and upon closer inspection that he had bags under his reddened eyes. Still no response as the two stood face to face, both stopping their progress.

“Olyn, talk to me. What happened?”

“Seran, my boy… the dragons... the dragons,” Olyn breathed, before falling forwards. Seran caught him clumsily and tried to hold him up. He grabbed one of Olyn’s arms and slung it over his own shoulder, turning around and trying to carry him back to town. Seran reflected grimly on how he had once, in a cheerier context, carried his drunken friend Gaty back from a tavern one night in this same manner. Gaty had been screaming random thoughts towards the dark sky, and Seran had lamented that he couldn’t cover his ears. But on they had trudged until Seran was able to safely deliver his friend back to his parents.

And so, on he trudged with Olyn, but now he called for help, realizing that things were already far out of his area of expertise. It did not take long before more townspeople began to show up, whether summoned by Seran’s calls or Olyn’s appearance on the mountain pass. Maroe, a friend of Seran’s mother, rushed forward and took the other arm of the semiconscious Olyn. “My dear, what happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Seran replied helplessly.

“Alright,” said Meroe, taking charge as more people began to gather to the scene. “We’re going to get Olyn here back to his home and his wife, and then I think it is time for a meeting of the Council.” Sounds of assent came from the crowd.

“Well don’t just stand there blocking our way,” Maroe chided. “Someone run ahead and get Erilin, someone get a medic, and the rest of you, go find the Council members.” After a few nods and quick conversations, people dispersed to their tasks as Seran and Maroe walked into the town and towards Olyn’s house.

It was decided that a meeting of the Council would not be convened until Olyn was strong enough to talk or until more members of the delegation returned, so any such proceedings were delayed until the next day.

Seran lay in bed that night, unable to sleep as his mind turned over every possibility that he could conceive. What was it that was so evil about the outside world? The Elder had always spoken about how the Valley was safe. Safe from what? But how much of what the Elder had said could be trusted? Her most important promises had failed.

And before Olyn had collapsed, he had started to say something about the dragons, but he never finished the sentence, leaving Seran itching to know what the rest of the message was. If Olyn had seen a dragon… impossible. But then again, the word ‘impossible’ had as much bearing as the word ‘immortal,’ and the latter had been shown to be weak in meaning.

After rolling back and forth for what must have been an hour, Seran got out of bed and stumbled in the darkness towards the kitchen. As he opened the door, he was surprised to find a flickering light already occupying the space. His father was seated alone at the table, a small candle and a tankard in front of him.

“Dad?” Seran whispered, carefully stepping into the room.

“Seran,” he nodded, ushering him in. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Nope,” Seran said, taking a seat opposite his father.

“Drink?” His father offered as he took a swig from his tankard.

Seran shook his head. “What do you think this all means?”

“I don’t know. It’s just another blow in a series of many.”

“You don’t think the rest of them survived, do you?”

Seran’s father paused briefly and stared into his drink. “No. If Olyn is coming back alone and in such a poor state… I imagine that they were attacked.”

“By whom? No one lives outside the Valley.”

“That’s what the Elder wanted us to believe. But that doesn’t give it much credibility, now does it?” There was bitterness in his voice.

Seran frowned as he realized, as he had so often found himself doing recently, that yet another part of his conception of the world may very well be wrong. He considered bringing up Olyn’s unfinished comment about the dragons, but for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he stopped himself. This question would be answered at the Council meeting tomorrow anyways. “But if there are people out there, they must have a way to survive,” Seran offered. “They must have resources. Right? They should be able to help us.”

“Able to perhaps. But why would they? It is a cold world out there. That much I believe the Elder got right.”

Seran knew that to some extent, he was just coming up with these ideas as a way to comfort himself, to distract himself from reality. But he couldn’t help having a little bit hope kindled inside of him now, though he knew that it might be snuffed out before long.

“What are we supposed to do?” Seran asked.

His father sighed. “There’s not much we can do, I’m afraid. I think events are getting beyond our reach. We have to let things play out and hope that the Council acts wisely.”

“That’s not much of a way to live,” Seran complained.

“What choice do we have?”

Seran slept, but only briefly, so he was quite tired when the sun shining in through his window woke him up, and he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked to the center of town with his parents for the meeting of the Council. Everyone except children and their designated caretakers was streaming into the meeting house.

The main room of the meeting house was a large, semicircular space with rows of seating that looked down to the stage where the Council sat and witnesses would testify. The largest seat on the stage, which was directly in the center, was conspicuously empty. When everyone had gathered and taken their places, Generoth, the most senior member of the Council, stood and addressed the Elkoi.

“My friends, you know why we are here. Yesterday, a single member of our first exploratory delegation returned, but his companions are unaccounted for. You all will be pleased to know that Olyn is recovering and has agreed to share with us the events of his expedition. Olyn, would you please come forward?”

The crowd craned to see as Olyn was led forth to the witness’ stand by his wife Erilin. A stool was brought, and he sat on it behind the podium instead of standing as was customary. He still looked rather ragged, and his eyes gave the appearance of being in constant terror.

“You may begin your testimony,” Generoth said simply as he sat back down. All eyes turned towards the tired man behind the podium. Olyn shifted in his seat as his eyes scanned the congregation.

“The expedition,” he began, “was a failure. The outside world is a dark and barren wasteland, even as the Elder always told us. We survived entirely off of the provisions that we took with us. We found no resources. And on the fifth day… we were attacked.”

The shouts of panicked conversation instantly filled the room, rendering anything else Olyn was saying impossible to hear. Seran wasn’t sure whether he was surprised. This is what his father had predicted. It meant that it wasn’t sickness that had struck the delegation, but something – rather someone – with more intelligence and sentience. The Elkoi were certainly not in a position to engage in a conflict against such a force; they would need to ally with them. Seran realized that half of the thoughts running through his head were, in fact, ideas being spoken around him by other people.

“Silence!” Generoth bellowed, striking his staff against the stage. The assembly fell into an ashamed quiet. “Go on, Olyn.”

Olyn sighed. “Night had just fallen when the attack came, so I couldn’t tell much about our assailants. I think they were just normal people. There was a bit of a skirmish, but they clearly had the advantage. I took a pretty serious beating and ended up unconscious. When I woke up, I was alone. All of the provisions and the rest of the group were gone. I spent the next two days trying to find my way back here. I’m lucky I made it.”

“So, you don’t know what happened to anyone else?” Urela, a councilmember, asked. Olyn shook his head somberly. There were more murmurs from the crowd.

“Does the Council have any further questions for our witness?” asked Generoth. The Council was silent. “Thank you for your testimony, Olyn.” Generoth summoned Erilin back up to the stage, and she escorted her husband from the platform.

“The Council will now go into deliberation. We will reconvene at midday.” Generoth stuck his staff on the stage again, signifying the end of the meeting.

There was then a brief recess, which in reality lasted all of two hours but to Seran felt like a whole day. His mind continued to turn over the possibilities that the Elkoi could be facing. It seemed like there were always so many unknowns, even as more things were made known. The future had become a giant uncertainty. And to make things worse, Olyn hadn’t even mentioned the dragons. What was it he had been about to say to Seran yesterday? And why hadn’t he shared this with everyone? Seran felt a knot tightening in his stomach.

At last, the assembly reconvened, and Generoth prepared to announce the judgement of the Council.

“The Council recognizes that we have two pressing needs. First is the future of the Elkoi as a whole. We are in need of more resources. To that end, we must continue to explore the outside world. The presence of supposedly human attackers indicates that there are, in fact, resources that can enable our continued survival. It is imperative that we locate these. However, we alsos have the immediate concern that eleven members of our people are either dead or being held captive by these mysterious attackers. We must make sure they are accounted for and brought home safe if at all possible.

“Both of these goals point to the same course of action. The attackers must be found and compelled to give us information on our kinfolk and on any possible resources for survival. Therefore, we will be sending out another delegation, this one larger and better equipped than the first. Under the direction of Olyn, the path of the original delegation will be traced out, and the attackers found. Thus has the Council decided.

“If there are no comments, we will proceed to the selection of the delegation.”

There were murmurs from the crowd but surprisingly no dissenters. “In that case Rupol will conduct the selection of the twenty-four delegation members.”

Rupol, one of the younger members of the Council, stepped forward with the chest containing parchment strips with the names of every eligible townsperson. The room fell silent in anticipation as he began to read out names, a feeling of dread setting in as people realized the gravity of the mission that might lie before them.

“Duhom.” An aging smith.

“Ishla.” Seran cast a furtive glance at the pretty girl, who was only a few months older than him.

Rupol continued to read names as Seran felt his heart beat harder and faster. He had a feeling, a sort of cursed intuition, that told him what was about to happen. He breathed heavily through his nose, clutching his seat with his hands, trying to steady himself.

“Fex.” A hot-headed young man.

He felt it happen before the word was spoken.

"Seran.”

That was it. He was being sent to die in the outside world.