The Scorched Child

Akaru hungered. He flew in broad lazy circles, corkscrewing across what in this age humans called the Westlands. He felt good, still strong despite his age. As if to remind the world below he pumped two powerful wing beats and turned towards the coast, afternoon sun striking against his deep bronze scales.

From high above the world was as it had been for centuries. Time passed, seasons cycled by and the lives of all small things blossomed and rotted in a blink.

As he descended the strife visiting the Westlands was clear. Small hamlets and farmsteads sat broken and charred, shells of barns and cottages slumped to their sides. Groups of ragged humans loitered along open roads in a futile search for sanctuary. To the south several columns of black smoked twisted skyward, fires sparked by the same hands responsible for the destruction below.

The Brood had advanced considerably through summer, razing all sign of humanity on its push to the Shattered Keep. Human armies had shown resilience though the twisted dragon spawn were too vicious and numerous. Despite Akaru's protests, as far as his clan was concerned human subjugation to the Brood was inevitable. the All-Mother and her children were the concern of small things now, dragons were to play no part.

Akaru searched the clearings and high meadows scattered beneath him. With the days heat waning and shadows stretching, prey would venture into the open. Few among the common beasts were old or wise enough to know true fear, an eye always to the sky. In a long clearing half touched by sun a group of low dark shapes moved into view.

Akaru beat his great wings, banking sharply to place the setting sun before him to prevent spooking shadows. The glade came into line as he gained momentum to dive. Ahead of him his quarry, a bull elk and several cows, heads down and far enough from the tree line to provide the dragon space to attack. Scooping his horned head low, Akaru lay his wings to his sides and plummeted towards the ground.

The patchwork beneath became a smear, colors blending and bleeding as he tore through the air, the snapping of wing leather against his flanks like attack drums. As the clearing screamed toward him Akaru fixed his mark. The harem scattered, screaming and springing away in blind panic. The bull bolted though it was far from cover and the dragon too fast. Akaru flared his wings, jolting upright as his hind legs shot forward.

The bull swung its antlers wildly as it fled. With a twist the tangle of horns caught in Akaru’s grasp for an instant then sprung out, the beast tumbling to the ground and rolling clear of the dragon’s reach. Akaru smashed into the earth, tearing a great trench in the meadow in a shower of dirt and rocks. As the elk vanished into the trees Akaru bellowed, sending a shudder through the evening sky as his tail whipped and cracked in frustration. Birds burst from cover and undergrowth snapped under hoof and paw as larger beasts fled deeper into the wood.

As the din receded Akaru caught a bleating cry, carried on the breeze from the far end of the glade. Perhaps a calf had fallen or separated from its mother in panic. Shaking off dirt and grass he lumbered towards the cry. As he neared the narrow end of the clearing the tall trees and rapidly retreating light shrouded a bleak scene.

A wagon lay on its side amidst a ravaged campsite. Human trinkets and tools littered the ground around a cook fire trailing a vanishing wisp of smoke, the smell of blood thick in the air. Akaru cringed, the scent of human blood mixed with the bitter, twisted taint of Brood. It did not take long to find its source. On the edge of the tree line a child of the All-mother lay dead, its leathery maw open and slack, dried black blood and sword cuts coating much of its human-like form.

Not far from the creature lay a man. Wicked tears across his stomach through a thick leather vest, his entrails a dark, putrid mass at his waist. A bloodied longsword lay spilled from his outstretched hand. The human had made a good account of itself in slaying one of the abominations and by the lingering stench Akaru guessed there had been several. The cry split the air again, closer now and strained by exhaustion.

Akaru shuffled toward the wagon, snaking his neck over the edge of the broad wooden frame. A child sat bawling in a tangle of blankets and rags, its’s face covered in filth and despair. Behind the child lay the body of its mother, face down and limp.

The child turned to Akaru, showing little regard for the dragon’s presence. It struggled to stand, arms outstretched and wailed again before collapsing back into the swaddle. As the child looked up Akaru was caught, a deep red stain stretching from its hairline to cheek was not blood but a marking. A marking well known to the dragon and one it could not ignore. His clan would not approve though a marked human had not been seen for centuries and if left alone it would be dead by morning.

Collecting the edges of the large blanket it in his mouth Akaru hoisted the infant in a bundle. The crying continuing, muffled deep in the sack. He would carry it to the Caldera and give it to Devoted. With so few of the dragon monks remaining the child would be welcomed. Turning toward the clearing Akaru surged forward and powered into the violet sky. As the ground fell to black beneath him, he reached to his blood-kin, a silent call only they could hear, “I am retuning, I have found a scorched one.”

Akaru emerged from thick cloud, below him sat a massive sink in the earth. The Caldera was born of cataclysm so long ago only the ancients of Akaru’s clan held any memory of its creation. The place had been used by dragon and their devoted almost as long. A thin beam of moonlight revealed the Home Pit, a wide earthen clearing framed by massive flat rocks, sat beneath a crenellation of savage peaks.

Akaru reached the pit floor, curtains of dust buffeting the closest stone walls. As he lowered the bundle to the ground the blanket fell open, the child hidden and silent. A light from the walls drew Akaru’s attention as a man holding a torch approached, his bearded face orange in the fire light, “Good evening, Shining One.” he said, dipping his head in respect.

The words were unspoken. He and the monk had shared blood and despite the formality Akaru sensed unease. “Hello Brother,” he replied, “Forgive me for bringing this to you after so long away though the child is marked, its parents lost to Brood.”

The man reached the bundle and knelt, peeling away layers, “With respect, it’s not I you need to convince. Na-zak gave up on the scorched in my grandfather’s time and she will not think well of this, orphan or otherwise.”

The waving orange glow revealed the child. It slept in peace, the mark across its face a dark stain in the light. Akaru looked to the monk as he considered the child, “I will answer to Na-zak, that is certain,” he said, “though the child needs care and the All-Mother is not yet so deep in victory that we can let a chance pass by.”

“If only we shared your optimism,” the monk responded, placing his torch on the ground to scoop the child up against his chest, “I take it as a boy, not yet through its second year.”

“Take it in Brother, educate and raise it in our ways and we will see what comes,” Akaru nodded toward the stone walls, “It will be safe here, short time will tell us if the mark bears truth.”

“A short time for some,” the monk said, turning to leave he paused mid-step, “Na-zak is close.”

Akaru was already aware, the pulse in his heart and mind revealing his approaching kin, “She is,” Akaru agreed, “I’ll return in time. If nothing else, Na-zak will not leave a child to die.” The monk dipped his head once more and vanished into the stone.

Akaru moved to one of the resting rocks, snaked himself across the still warm surface and waited. His kin-sense swelled. A thumping of wings followed as a mountain of midnight descended to the rock opposite. Na-zak was near twice the size of Akaru, the night around her ebony hide making her eternal. Moss and white lichen coated her great head like a crown, creeping along spiraled horns and hanging from her chin in matted trestles. “Again, you waste our time on small things.” she snapped, battering the smaller dragons mind with frustration.

“Apologies mother though the child is well marked, what harm can come of raising it?” Akaru dipped his head low, “You know it’s said a scorched one will-”

“ALL THINGS SAID ARE NOT TRUTH,” Na-zak roared, “the others you championed did nothing to stem the tide of corruption and neither will this one. She has won, The Pact has been realised and we must focus on our own survival.”

Akaru shrunk back “Of course, I remember,” he said, “the monks will watch the child and if nothing comes of it then so be it. At least they have another for their number, many of them are in their final years.”

Na-zak snorted, a rasping bellows, “Convenient for them and you,” she said, craning her neck towards the caves. “let this distract you and I’ll have you cross the sea; do you understand my son?”

Akaru nodded, “I do.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Come now, there is something we need to address, and I cannot stay here too long.”

Na-zak unfurled her wings and pulled into the sky with three beats. Akaru followed, settling eddies of dust the only sign of their passing.

Mid afternoon sun flooded the Home Pit. In the centre of the arena a crowd watched two men circle, exactly as far from each other as they needed to be. On one side, a bearded man of middle years, sword held in two hands at shoulder height, point trained on his opponents’ chest. Across from him was a boy, tall and solid for his age. Sweat glistened off his liver-stained face as he cross-stepped to his right, sword tip to the sky. Each step mirrored by the older man.

A growing welt shone on the light side of the boy’s face as he searched for an opening, “Col what are you doing, trying to look him to death?” Yelled a burly brother in the crowd, “We’re hungry, make a bloody move and be done with it.”

Col tried to ignore the jibes of agreement, though his opponent saw a lapse. Springing forward he darted his weapon toward Col in three spearing strikes, each extending further than the last. Col kicked back in a puff of dust, evading the first strike by luck alone and dropping his own blade in an attempt parry the second. The man was viper quick, Col’s sword meeting only air as his opponent’s blade withdrew and drove forward again. The miss threw Col’s balance and though he recovered with an upstroke he had overrun his feet in panic. Overswinging and twisting to leave his back exposed. The older man swept a foot forward, kicking out Col’s ankle and sending the boy sprawling.

Col coughed as the tip of the wooden sword thudded into his ribs, “Dead again young one,” said the man from above “And to think you actually struck first today.”

Around them the audience began to clear, laughter and jeers fading as the brothers made for the caves. Col rolled to his back, spitting dirt and brushing dust from his close shaved head, “Thank you Brother Hiro,” Col said as he extended a hand, “I’ll take small victories where I can.”

Hiro pulled the boy up and walked to where his sword lay, flicking it from the dirt with his own and handing it to Col, “There’s no shame in small victories, provided they save small lives,” Hiro said, raising an eyebrow, “besides, I’m sure your mind is full of today’s rite and this practice was more to steal your focus and deny your nerves.”

The mention of the rite tightened Col’s throat. Today he would be accepted as blood-kin. The dragons his order served would share with him a gift, an acknowledgement of acceptance and great honor. The rite itself was not cause for worry. Col was diligent in his lessons, and he understood the passing challenges of the ritual. Hiro and the rest of his family had prepared him well physically and mentally. The fear was facing the beasts.

“They will not hurt you Col, you know this,” Hiro said, sensing the boys’ thoughts.

“I know brother,” replied Col, “It’s just… I’ve seen so few and never on the ground. If I show fear, will they find me lacking?”

Hiro gripped the boy’s shoulder “We do not take this lightly Col,” he said, “we would not have told Akaru you were ready if we thought you lacking.”

Col came to a stop “Akaru? Isn’t he-”

“Yes, it was he who found you so only right he acts as arbiter of your acceptance,” Hiro replied, “You have seen him, if only on the wing. He shines like polished bronze.”

“I know the one,” Col replied, “I owe him much.”

“Do not see it as a debt, he had little choice.”

Col nodded. He understood the significance of what was before him. He would take his oath and be welcomed to the Devoted as a Brother, a protector of lore. As he and Hiro entered the caves his stomach turned, and he tried to convince himself it was due only to hunger.

Later that afternoon a throng of monks gathered at the resting rocks. Between the crowd and the rocks roared a bonfire, thick smoke climbing high and straight. Col and Hiro waited with a third man. An Elder dressed in the long pale robes of his station, a set of red wings dyed across the chest, “He comes now.” He said plainly, gesturing to the south.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, for all but the most senior monks an audience with a Shining One was a rare thing. Col looked to Hiro, the man was as close to a parent as he would ever have, he had taught him letters, histories and how to fight. He could not let him down, “I’m ready Brother.” Col said.

“I know,” Hiro replied, looking to the sky beyond the boy “Akaru is here.”

Col turned, the glare was the first thing to catch his eye, a brilliant flash high above the dense woods beyond the pit. As the dragon descended the shine faded, revealing dark wings at least half the width of the arena, barbed tail trailing as he glided towards the waiting crowd. Col gulped a dry lump, “He’s huge.”

“Against small things yes,” replied Hiro, eyes fixed on the dragon, “though among his kind Akaru is no giant. There a some who appear as an approaching storm.”

Akaru slid inside the barrier peaks, allowing those below to witness his majesty. As the dragon touched down on the rock gusts of wind punched into Col’s chest, a cloud of sparks shimmering off the bonfire. Rustling behind him reminded Col to take a knee. Hiro knelt beside him leaving only the Elder standing, arms outstretched before the dragon.

“Akaru, Shining One,” He called, “we’re honored to welcome you once more. We are the Devoted, we remember.”

“We remember,” the monks responded as one. Col stumbled over the reply, distracted by the dragon’s intense focus. The assembly stood, Akaru lifted his head and nodded, surveying the congregation before halting at the Elder. The old monk dropped his arms and waited for a time, “The Brother Hiro, Shining One,” he called, responding to an unheard question, “he stands for the boy Col, strong of mind and arm, knowing of our lore.”

Hiro raised his voice in response, “He is worthy of the blood gift,” he confirmed, “the boy has learnt well and will strengthen the Devoted.”

Col held the gaze of Akaru, his reflection clear in the dragon’s orbed eyes. This was no animal of base instinct. This was a being of power and intellect, appraising him as an instructor would a new student.

The Elder shifted to Cols side, “It’s time.” He said, a bowl and dagger held before him.

Col stepped forward, turning his palms skyward. Akaru brought his head closer, each rumbling breath vibrating the air between them. The Elder passed the bowl to Hiro and took Col by a wrist, raising the arm for the crowd.

“With blood we see,” he called, drawing the dagger firmly down the fleshy inside of Col’s forearm. Col flinched, bight blood running freely off his elbow into the waiting bowl, “With blood I shall see.”

The dragon turned its head to one side, golden spikes radiating along the jaw. The Elder lifted a studded jowl, revealing ivory teeth as long as a man’s hand. He raised the dagger, stabbing into the soft inside of the mouth. Thick black-green blood came at a slow, steady drip. Hiro stepped forward to catch it.

Taking the bowl from Hiro, the Elder added a handful of powder from a small bag and stirred with the blade, trails of steam drifting on the cooling air, “Take this now and be welcomed as blood-kin, a gift for the Devoted.” The Elder said, passing the bowl to Col.

Col raised it to his mouth, the hot mineral scent stinging his nostrils as he drank, blood thick and hot in his throat. His head began to pulse, sweat beading his brow. The onset so fierce he stumbled and was caught by Hiro, “It’s ok boy,” he said, steadying Cols arms, “drink it down, it will begin and end in an instant.”

The words came to Col as though water flowed over his ears, his head pulsing and heart racing violently in his chest. Hiro said something else though it was lost in the tumult. Col drained the last of the blood and the bowl fell from his grasp. Before him floated a giant golden head, the night closing around it. Then there was void.

Dragons filled a brilliant blue sky. Dozens of Shining Ones of bronze, gold and emerald green. They dipped and rose on the currents, some flying low over the forests in pairs or large formations. They overflew the Caldera, several dragon resting in the arena attending an enormous blood red matriarch. The land beyond the Caldera was wild, there were no roads, hedgerows, farmsteads….

A war raged. Humans slaughtered each other while dragon overflew the field, some spewing great gouts of flame over warriors who fell shrieking, cooked alive in plate and mail. Elsewhere humans harassed the dragons with engines of war, ballistae flinging rocks and arrows as long as a man. Above the battle one dragon slammed into another. They fell spinning, a tangle of wings, muscle and tearing teeth…

High above a blasted land the great red dragon sat upon a ridge. Before her hung a miasma, a black rift in the sky under which crouched a giant. A horned beast built as human though grotesque and twisted in form. It reached an arm towards the dragon as the darkness coalesced between them. From below came a scream, a black hurtled up the cliff face towards the ridge. The giant stood to meet it with arms outstretched, purple lighting gathering at its fingertips. Thunder tore the sky…

A giant golden head floated before Col, “Welcome Brother,” It said. The mouth was motionless though the words clear and strong, filling Col’s head with comfort, “You must rest, we have much to do.”

Col’s body pulsed, a surge from his chest to his toes. He released a long, steady breath and fell to a deep sleep.

Col woke. The caves allowed little light, making it difficult to judge time. He sat on the edge of his bunk and rolled his neck and shoulders. Akaru had spoken to him, he was now blood-kin and brother in full. The fever dreams had been vivid and raised many questions. He dressed quickly and went searching for answers.

The sun over the arena showed mid-afternoon. Monks went about chores and Hiro was found preparing to hike to base of the Caldera and trade with some of the few guild members willing to travel so far.

“Well hello Brother,” Hiro called, face splitting in a wide grin, “I can see a shining strength in you. Care to escort an old man on a walk?”

“Of course.” Col replied, looking distractedly towards the resting rocks.

“He is gone for now, likely to hunt though you’ll know when he returns,” Hiro said.

“Oh… I have the sense already?”

“Most certainly. It can be a little overwhelming at first, especially when they’re close though you’ll get used to it,” Hiro said. He gestured toward the armoury, “Get yourself ready and we can talk on the way.”

The path down from the pit was a stretch of rocky switchbacks meeting open woodland on the lower slopes. The pair wore lacquered leather chest pieces over rough spun jackets, straight single-edged swords of their order at their waist, “Did you see The Pact?” Col asked as they made their way down, “during your rite?”

The older man took time to answer, “In part if I recall,” he said, “I saw the All-mother and the demon if that’s what you mean. The memories can differ though most brothers recall the cursed thing.”

They walked in silence for a time before Col spoke again, “The All-mother did not seem as complicit as the histories tell us, “Col said “She seemed…sad.”

“The All-Mother was lost to madness Brother,” Hiro replied, “the choices were hers and she-” Hiro stopped, one hand drifting to the handle of his sword, the other raised to Col as an order. Col halted mid-step, a twisting tug in his stomach. If this was the sense it was a feeling of unease he was not expecting “A dragon?” he hissed at Hiro.

“No.” Hiro mouthed, shaking his head with a finger to his lips.

He gestured for Col to step back and behind his position. Ahead the path rounded a stand of trees, Hiro nodded toward them and thumbed his sword free of its scabbard. Col followed his mentors lead, the twisting sense in his stomach enflaming his nerves.

A small dark creature rounded the bend. At first Col thought it a dog, its stunted face close to the ground, tail bobbing behind. When it looked up and took in the men it opened a reptilian maw of needled teeth and let out a rattling hiss, snapping its tail in excitement though standing its ground.

A second beast jogged into view, moving like a human though built of black corded muscle and spiked limbs, larger than any man Col had ever seen. It was naked and carried no weapon. It's broad shoulders rounded and sloping, arms so long its claws dragged in the dirt.

On seeing Col, the monster charged, the smaller creatures at it heals, “FOUND IT.” The words rattled through Col on a wave of dread as the thing surged towards him. Staggeringly fast for such a monstrous frame.

Col drew his blade, moving to Hiro’s side only to be blocked by an outstretched arm, “Hold Brother,” Hiro barked, “back and watch the broodling.”

Col retreated as the creatures closed, Hiro held his ground, sword sheathed. The big one engaged with a snarl, slinging a thick arm like a mace. Hiro dipped to his side, sliding under the attack while drawing his sword in a single upward slash, severing the arm at the shoulder. Black blood plumed and the brute roared in pain as it pressed on, swinging recklessly as Hiro skipped away.

The broodling pounced at Col, gnashing its teeth as it sprung away from each sword strike before shooting back to snap at the boys’ legs. Col was hard pressed to keep the thing at bay such was its speed.

Hiro kept his opponent at length as it barreled toward him. As it lunged forward to rake at his head Hiro swept his blade over the reaching arm and tracking its length, buried a flat strike through the creatures open mouth and deep into its skull. Momentum sent it thudding to the ground where it writhed momentarily before falling still.

As though summoned the broodling immediately retreated from Col, bounding up the path and vanishing around the trees. Hiro cursed and tuned to Col, “Are you hurt?’ he asked.

“I… I’m not,” replied Col, “They’re Brood?”

Hiro spat at the earth, flicking black blood from his blade, “They are,” he said, “scouts by the looks.”

“I didn’t know we could hear them too,”

“Hear…. that?” Hiro asked, gesturing at the corpse.

“Yes. It said it had found something,”

Hiro paled, “We must hurry Col,” he said, “there may be more, and we can’t afford to face a larger group.”

The pair set off, the many questions in Col’s mind churned by the seldom heard urgency in Hiro’s voice, “Brother I don’t understand,” Col said, “I shouldn’t hear them?”

Hiro stopped “It’s not that you shouldn’t,” he said, “it’s just…. unique, and does not bode well. I fear there are things we need to discuss you may not be ready for.”

“What things?”

“We must get home first Brother,” Hiro said, starting off again, “they should not be here, the Brood vanguard has been stalled far to the west for years. Those we encountered have made it this far for a reason.”

“The Home Pit?” Col asked.

Hiro looked up to the shielding peaks, “In part, yes,” he said, “though there is little coincidence in this. Their first presence in the Caldera and not a day after your initiation.”

Col’s next question was halted by a twist in his stomach. At first, he was alarmed though this sensation was different to that heralding the Brood. This was a heated prick of urgency, radiating to his chest and driving him forward. A voice soon followed, clarion clear and driving away all other thought,

“I am retuning Brother, your time has come.”