Wyrmgrave Valley

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

But they always returned to the Valley, the place of their birth, to die.

On a sunny morning, the valley always appeared touched by magic. The dewy grass and leaves twinkled in the warming rays and danced, throwing a light mist to the songbirds darting from treetop to treetop.

This was Jameila’s favourite time. Just as the valley awoke from its deep slumber.

And it was her favourite season too. Spring, after the snow melted, the first promises of deep green pulsated throughout bushes and shoots and the newly exposed earth revealed new treasures.

She lay on her back, not caring that the cold droplets wet her and made her shiver. While she had a moment of peace, she closed her eyes and took a deep, grateful breath.

Yes. It was time to-

“Jameila, hurry up! We’re going to be late for the Assembling!”

The shrill voice stunned Jameila out of her thoughts. She dozily stared up. “Huh?” She shot up. “The Assembling!” She hauled herself from the ground and picked up her satchel. “Sorry, I get lost out here. I’ve found a fine knuckle for the new chief – look!” She pulled a worn, creamy piece of bone the size of her palm. “The Dragon it belonged to must have been beautiful!” She gushed.

Daisy looked bored. “I’d like to care, but we’re still running late so let’s go.” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “You can’t give that to the new chief. She’ll think you’re insane.”

Jameila yanked her arm free. “Why? It’s a fabulous gift, I’d love to get something like this!”

“I think you’re the only one who would. You and your-” Daisy stopped short. “Sorry. I keep forgetting…”

“It’s okay. And yeah, mum would have loved it too.” Jameila mumbled. They walked in silence, shadowed by the great bones of ancient beasts long gone. Jameila’s hand brushed fondly across the thick ribs of one such relic, festooned with living ivy and sprouting deep purple flowers. The stench of a fox was nearby, so she pulled away, not wishing to disturb the potential site of a fox’s nest.

They wound up a tight path, flanked by the same vibrant green on either side. This close to the town, only the largest relics survived almost intact, taken over by the local flora. They were too big to move. Every other bone, scale or talon had been picked clean long ago. Much of it was likely in Jameila’s collection. But she still loved wandering among the bones of the departed beasts whose ghosts still lingered among her people.

By the time they reached the town’s edge, Daisy dark hair stuck to her neck. She was pink-cheeked and huffing with each step. Jameila skipped along, trying hard not to rub her jubilant steps in her friend’s face. When Daisy glared back, Jameila gallantly offered Daisy the crook of her arm.

“Thanks.” Daisy’s weight practically dragged Jameila down. “Bloody… uphill… in every… direction…”

Arton was going through its usual morning routines at a breakneck pace. Everyone was trying to get their important business done before the Assembling began.

Which is why the docile group of strangers standing by the Assembling Hall stuck out immediately. Their attire was odder still. They wore elaborate suits, far more clothing than was necessary or practical. Waistcoats, jackets, pressed trousers, and clean, pristine black boots that would be destroyed by mud and grime in mere days in the valley.

Jameila peered at Daisy. “They look… lost. Are they supposed to be here?”

“They’re merchants, a professor, two scientists and a banker,” Daisy mumbled, as they pressed on towards the great wooden hall with beautiful embossing depicting dragons in flight across its great wooden doors. It was easily the biggest building for miles and could comfortably sit the hundreds of denizens of Arton.

“Why’re they here?” Jameila queried, kicking off the mud from her boots before stepping into the great hall.

“I’m not really supposed to say.” Daisy’s reluctant expression encouraged Jameila to press further.

“No really, why are they here.” She lowered her voice, tucked her shirt properly into her breeches, slapped mud from her thighs and retied her hair, pulling as many of the wispy bits from her face as she could.

“You’ll lose your mind if I tell you. But I suppose it’s better to tell you now so you don’t make an idiot of yourself later. But keep your voice down…” Daisy whispered conspiratorially. Jameila was about to shake her jacket off but had paused in the suspense of it all. “They want to buy the bones from the Valley.”

Jameila screeched a “What?!” And Daisy batted her back down.

“I said to keep your voice down!” Daisy smiled pleasantly at the milling crowd in the Assembling Hall, all nosy to see the latest town drama unfold. “The new Chief is going to announce the brokering of the deal today after she’s made Chief.” Daisy helped Jameila put her jacket on and patted down the worst of the wrinkles. “Promise me you won’t go ballistic over this. From what I gather the deal is pretty much done. If you play along and act happy and pleased about the whole thing for Arton, maybe, MAYBE, the Chief will let you keep your collection.”

Jameila was too stunned to say much. She felt the news like a blow to the stomach and nausea that came with it felt so real, her mouth filled with saliva at the anticipation of bile rising to her throat.

Daisy led them towards the centre of the Assembling Hall, where space was made for all great announcements and their leaders fell under the scrutiny of their people.

Sam was already there, looking utterly devastating in a smart tunic with his perfectly groomed hair. He was the master of ceremonies and was rehearsing his part in welcoming their new Chief. He glanced up, smiled briefly at Daisy and then, “Goodness, Jameila what in the name of heaven is wrong? You look like you’ve bitten into a bouquet of thistles, then tried to wash it down with cat’s urine!” Jameila flopped next to him and growled.

“She knows,” Daisy said flatly. She grabbed her ceremonial robe from her designated chair and shoved it on over her dress, tugging it around her form, pulling it one way, then the other and cursing the entire time.

“Oh, Jammykins…” He muttered, placing a comforting hand on her back and giving her an encouraging pat. She gave him a sidelong glare and he slowly removed the offending hand. “We debated whether to tell you sooner the minute we found out.”

“When did you find out?” Jameila asked, a dark eyebrow raised.

“Yesterday.” Daisy cut in quickly, nearly ripping her tunic’s sleeve while she tried to match the inside seam of the sleeve with the inside of her arm.

Sam shot Daisy a look. “The thing is, nothing was really decided until this morning. It seemed pointless to make you worry for nothing. You’ve already been through so much and it would have been cruel to add more to your lot.”

“I – uh – Yeah. No, I get it. Thanks for caring. It’s sweet, really. Super sweet to keep a major upheaval to my livelihood completely out of my notice until the worst possible moment.” Jameila could barely register the hordes of people filling the hall. There were also more people filling the announcing stage, lining up by their designated ceremonial seats.

In the centre sat the dragon skull chair, the most respected seat in the assembly, where the ruling Chief sat now, looking a little perturbed. He always hated crowds.

Her two friends silently stared at her. Until Daisy grabbed her hand, “Please, whatever you do, don’t make it worse for yourself. We’re going to start soon, and I need to be with the other Treasurers.” She joined another group across the stage.

Sam handed her a piece of paper with her part of the ceremony. “We’ve practised. It’s only two lines. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to say this,” Jameila said with a finality that made Sam’s eyes light up in a panic. She felt her will to be defiant drain out of her. “Oh fine, I’ll say the stupid lines.” She stood up, taking position by the records master and the lore keeper. Neither said a word to her as she glowered at the rest of the crowd.

Jameila spotted the group of strangers sitting close to the stage bar one, who sat alongside the town’s head merchant amongst the other officials part of the ceremony.

“Have you two heard? They’re going to sell our bones to the outsiders there.” Jameila hissed under gritted teeth.

The lore keeper, a petite man named Cole nodded. “Oh yes. Not happy about it. Nope. But lots of money to be made. No doubt about that.”

Arlo, the records master, scoffed. She did not care for the deal clearly. “We are going to lose far more than they gain. Mark my words. Especially you Jameila, keep a close eye on the collection lest it goes to the wolves who underestimate their worth and overestimate their own aptitude.”

The ceremony was dull. The announcing of a new chief at an Assembling was a drawn-out process where each leader of any type of house or trade or town function would give their blessing to the newly appointed chief. In reality, it mattered not if the blessing was given.

The town council decided on the nomination of a new chief (usually one among their own) and the ruling chief would either approve or disapprove the request based on the personal strengths or failings of the nominated candidate. It tended to mean that the council rarely nominated someone whom the ruling chief would not approve. And so Maya Barnes found herself nominated for the position.

Except she had not found anything. She’d lobbied and persuaded and promised over the course of sixteen months, to get to this position. Now that it was finally here, she went through her internal of all the things she would change the minute she was given Arton’s sceptre, and she gained the right to sit on the dragon’s skull.

Sam Bellman, the official town newsman, held the sceptre in his hand. “Now, we request the Lore Keeper, Record Master and Bone Guardian to bequeath their blessing upon our newly announced chief.”

“We welcome our Chief with open arms. Our knowledge is yours to use for the benefit of Arton.” They each had to repeat. When it came to Jameila, the words caught in her throat. But she spat them out when Sam gave her a pleading look.

“The town leaders welcome you, Chief Maya Barnes.” Sam finished with a flourish.

The Assembling Hall broke into applause and some cheers.

Jameila counted the seconds until she could escape from the stifling hall. She slowly edged towards the observers and away from the officials. The new chief’s speech was explosive, and all eyes were on her when she announced the town’s plans to broker a deal with the outsiders to purchase the dragon bones in their valley. Daisy caught her arm just as she was about to slip into the crowd of onlookers and quickly ended up dragged along with her.

Once they were outside, Jameila tore off her jacket. “This is complete bull!” She shouted.

Daisy sighed. Then looked alarmed as Jameila stomped back down towards the valley. “Wait – where are you going? The ceremony isn’t over!” Daisy struggled to keep pace. “At least slow down so I can keep up.” She puffed.

Jameila looked across to her friend and slowed to an easier pace. Daisy let her walk on in silence, knowing to keep her mouth shut for the moment.

It was past midday now and the sheep loitering on the grass, among the fences, dragon bones and their own droppings, were dopey and slow. One was comfortably sitting on the path, chewing, without a care in the world. Jameila took in the idyllic, peaceful scene. She couldn’t bear the thought of no dragon bones dotting her precious landscape.

“I don’t understand why they’re letting them take the bones away.” She murmured finally. “They’re just as much a part of this valley as the earth itself. We wouldn’t be here without them.” As she said those words, the grief of what they were losing hit her all over again.

“I mean, yes, but Arton is in dire straits. We keep growing and growing as a town, but there’s less and less to do. People need to work so they can feed their families. These people want to pay good money for these bones. I don’t see it as anything bad, just another way the bones are providing for Arton.” Daisy’s voice wasn’t gentle. She spoke passionately about her little town’s problems.

“Would you want me to sell your dead grandmother to a colony of mice to pick apart?” Jameila asked.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Jammy, this is nowhere near the same thing. For one, nobody in our generation or five, FIVE, generations before us, has seen a single dragon in this valley. There are no clutches, no signs of another funeral, nothing. I think I agree with Chief Barnes, they’re not coming back.”

“We’re their children, we’re children of heaven, we belong to them and we owe them our respect at least. They’re like the rivers or the mountains. Arla says there are records of a time when the valley didn’t have a stream running through it from the northern mountains, but there is now – dragons are like that – they’re long-lived, and we can’t perceive them because we’re… we’re short-sighted…” Jameila continued. “I’m almost glad my mum isn’t here. She’d hate this.”

At the mention of her mother, Daisy reached out and gave her friend a warm embrace. “I know it’s not ideal. But we have to think about all the people in the town now. I really think Chief Barnes is in the right and we’ll be better off.”

Jameila pulled away from the hug and started to walk deeper into the valley. “Daisy, I need to go back to the workshop and make sure the collection stays out of their hands.”

“That’s town property, you can’t just-“

“I know – that’s why I have to hide it. For the town to hold on to something before it’s all given away to strangers.”

Even though the birds chirped, and the valley was bursting with light and vigour, Jameila cast a long shadow where she walked.

She arrived at the workshop, a large cave, that could hold the various giant bones of dragons in several stages of completion. Through these bones, Jameila and all Bone Guardians before her had amassed a great deal of knowledge on what the beasts they’d never set eyes on could have looked like, how they worked at a mechanical level and sometimes, even what diseases they might have suffered from.

She collected first the satchels with the smaller samples and loaded up as many as she could, along with a few journals of discoveries and observations she deemed as most important.

Despite the size of the cave, there was less and less space with each new addition and one of her first tasks as the new Bone Guardian had been to scout a second location for the collection. She found a second cave about two hours deeper into the valley, in a part not well travelled because of the thick bramble covering the entire area and the loose earth that made keeping to a path difficult.

The new cave was also less spacious and near a stream, meaning it was not nearly as dry and crisp as the cave further up the valley. But for now, this would have to work. Jameila couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything to outsiders for short-sighted gain. She stared at her second workshop. There was already a bench and a table, and a few bones and instruments, but it was quite bare. Her shadow lengthened as the day drew closer to its end and her mood worsened. She was caught in this unhappy spiral when the ground beneath her shook and the cave entrance shuddered loosening rock to the ground.

“Please,” A voice rumbled behind her.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose and sheer, deep terror set in. She slowly turned to face the source of the voice.

A golden scaled beast sat before her. It was the size of a house. Shuddering with each breath, making the grass, leaves and sprouting spring flowers heave along with it. She could see a smattering of oozing wounds on the creature’s flank where golden scales had been pulled off to reveal skin.

He roared in pain and his great head flopped down, crashing everything around it, making Jameila jump in sheer fright.

“Help.” He finished.

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

But they always returned to the Valley, the place of their birth, to die.