Under the Winged Shadow

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Nor were there any now thought captain Graelis Dorlion, as he brought his retinue to the hill-top overlooking the verdant green Valley below, with its great green pines, and its crystal blue lake. A view that under average circumstances would have been breathtaking in itself. However, all the men present appeared to be fixated on a rock formation in the distance, east of their road. Like a ravenous beast breaching the crust of the earth, there sat what looked like a great set of jaws jutting from the earth. The site of this natural phenomenon set all the soldiers present to murmurings, and hushed debates amongst themselves. Graelis dismissed the tales he heard along the road toward the valley as legends, and tales. That that great maw was merely a natural formation much like the mountains encircling the Valley. It seemed irksome to him that grown men, and women would permit themselves such a flight of fancy. Given the purpose of their journey to Varnjir Valley, he thought such musings better left to the glistening eyes of children during peace time. Still, he thought to himself that perhaps this would help with morale. For his men to lose themselves to legends stepped out from the past, perhaps this could allow them a brief respite from the fumbling retreat they were constantly finding themselves in.

Since that great crimson host from the mainland had landed in the south of the kingdom marshaling a response had been difficult. Graelis walked with his lieutenants to a grouping of pine trees providing shade near the edge of the road. Here they took some rest, and prepared themselves for the task at hand. Graelis removed his kettle helm, wiping the sweat from his brow with his rather ragged leather gauntlet. He paused a moment regarding his torn guard captain’s surcoat with its symbol of an anchor atop a lighthouse draped over a simple mail hauberk. Hardly the attire to be greeting a duke in he thought to himself. To Graelis’ right sat his most trusted companion Bralduc Haelgrin. A rather muscular man with long dark hair, and a brooding face. This often betrayed the genuine character that Bralduc held beneath his façade, and cynical nature. He wore simple brown linen, and leather boots, but strapped to his back he carried a great claymore. Opposite the captain was Sunniva Faelnir. A young woman with untamed tawny hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes. She wore a dark brown leather jerkin, faded green pants, and knee high riding boots. Sunniva also carried with her an anelace dagger fastened to her hip. The three companions had been thrust together when meeting in the city of Chetguard in the southern reaches of the kingdom. Though Graelis held an official rank, the disorganization, and tumult of those early days of the conflict saw them thrust together in a desperate defense of that city.

There was palpable tension in the air, as the small party awaited the events of that evening. The purpose of their journey to the Valley was to recruit the Duke that resided there. Graelis had dispatched his fastest rider a few days prior to allow the Duke time enough to make a decision. In due time it was reported back that a meeting was to be held that evening. Given the customs of the region it was out of the ordinary for one of such high nobility to even address a commoner of such a low rank. Coming from the southern reaches of the kingdom Graelis was already accustomed to being received by high ranking officials with the same manner one greets the sight of their own boot having stepped in shit. Still, the accomplishments, and skirmishes the captain had won preventing the entirety of the realm from being swallowed in one single go had provided enough acclaim for those of high birth or status to take note. This seemed to provide the captain the clout he needed to garner support for the cause. Or at least attempt it with a strong reputation proceeding him. They sat for a time in silently brooding over the events about to unfold, and what hinged upon them.

Bralduc never the one for silence, and the discomfort it brought him broke in. “Sunniva, you’re from this part of the isle are you not? I swear I heard you mention something of the sort while we were riding northwards from the Great Gate. Oh, yes it all comes together now. All that misplaced pride, and eagerness to prove yourself. I hear all you Varnjir folk are all the same. The men and women alike have great heads on their shoulders.”

Sunniva chuckled at this, and seemed to temper her otherwise cutting vocabulary that was more often than not sharpened, and sheathed for the moments when Bralduc said something irrevocably foolish. She let him get away with it this time, as the irony of Bralduc talking about any other with a big head was quite laughable. “Aye, it’s true. I was born just over there.” Closing one eye she slowly pivoted on her knee where she located a lone wooded hill far off in the distance. Smoke could be seen rising in multiple plumes indicating a settlement there. Bralduc sitting with his arms folded didn’t take his eyes from the distant tree line.

“Huh. Such a pretty place, these parts. What made you come down south? Surely it wasn’t adventure, or opportunity to make a little coin. It’s a well known fact things are much better up here. You haven’t the need to scratch a desperate living. Isn’t that right captain? Lotta feast, or famine in our part of the kingdom.” Bralduc inclined his head slightly, as though his very words confirmed that life had been sharpening him into a hardened man since birth. Graelis simply nodded tapping on his helmet.

Sunniva giving a slight half smile responded dismissively. “No, no it was ages ago my mother and I travelled south alone. I suppose things just became inhospitable up here. I was only a child at the time, so it’s all quite fuzzy.” Waving her hand she looked despondently eastward toward the great jaw. She looked to be musing on it when Bralduc again broke the silence. “ Just you and your mother? That must have been a very unpleasant journey for a woman and her daughter. What of your father? Given these roads at all times of the year.” Bralduc was now pressing in a direction that Graelis could see was quite uncomfortable for Sunniva. Her brows were furrowed, and her face frozen in a survival technique he knew all too well himself. In his line of work stoicism was key to success. Betray your own emotions, and friend or foe alike cannot read your intentions. Watching her emerald eyes gloss over, and stare despondently into the dirt was slightly troublesome to the captain. By now her dagger wit should be deflating the massive head Bralduc struggles to balance on his shoulders. He is a decent man, but struggles to maintain boundaries thought Graelis. He knew he couldn’t always openly mediate the issues found between others, but he was learning something integral to his trade over the last few months. Something that had eluded him for years. Morale. To keep the spirits of others without the obvious intent showing. Benevolent manipulation he would quietly tell himself. “Sunniva, do you know the legend of this Valley’s namesake?”

This seemed to rouse something in Sunniva, as her malaise seemed to lift, and a mirth returned to her face. That familiar glint in her eye that Graelis had come to familiarize himself with over the months returned. “All children of Varnjir are taught the legend of Rigwald. He who this very valley is named, and the father of our peoples.” Her excitement grew, and she now sat razor straight with her chin inclined. “Or as he is known today, Rigwald Drakesian, whose line rules this Valley til this very day.” Gesturing to the far distance Sunniva pointed to that lone rock formation. It’s sinister maw turned northward in terrible fury. “There rests his quarry. The bane of our people long ago.”

Bralduc staring into the far distance. “I’m not entirely convinced Sunniva. Imposing yes, but it still looks just like stone to me.” Graelis had not said as much, but felt skeptical all the same. He knew that this was quite obviously sacred to the folk of Varnjir Valley.

Sunniva simply brushed Bralduc’s words aside. The matter not even a debate to something so sacredly held for so many. Like all of her kin, Sunniva delighted in the telling of the tale. “Legends tell that this great winged serpent had descended from the sky. It’s great mass soot black, with wings that buffeted all beneath it. Come from the far eastern lands it saw this valley, and it’s natural mountain formations as favorable nesting grounds. The great dragon had one small problem to contend with however. All of those that inhabited the valley below in that rich green country side could make it troublesome to lay a clutch of eggs.” Pausing Sunniva awaited Bralduc’s foolish and blatant observations looking directly at him though it were expected.

“My god. That must have been one terrible thing to behold. To think that something could ever exist!” He interjected. Sunniva nodded continuing.

“These winged demons have solutions for such things. Nosy neighbors are unlikely to keep to themselves. Do you wonder why this region is so verdant, green, and beautiful?” Sunniva asked, the question pointed to Bralduc. His cogs turning with some difficulty he didn’t seem to have much of an answer. “It all had to grow back. The answer to the dragon’s problem? Burn it. Burn it all down!” Sunniva gestured her hand in a sweeping motion along the entirety of the valley. “The dragon won its mountain hold with a valley laid to absolute desolate ruin. Crawling into the great cave within the far south of the valley it took to nesting. However, as it laid itself to rest it had not counted on having bed bugs.” Sunniva grinned, her eyes flitting back and forth between Bralduc, and Graelis. “Where could all of those villages and settlements it laid waste to, the survivors they had to go somewhere. They needed away from the ash choked air, the smoldering ruins, hardly a pine left standing anywhere in the valley. There was no point in running to the lake. The great dragon seemed to take a neat playful delight in raining hellfire for so long a time, that it boiled the waters below. So up, up into the mountains they went. Deep, deep into the caverns.”

Bralduc interjected once more. “To think that all of this would be turned into a great desolate plain. Nothing left standing. How then?! How can a people return from utter annihilation?!”

Sunniva was now bent on one knee. Leaning forward for emphasis she spoke in a hushed tone for effect. “ Rigwald Varnjir. It was there in the mountain hold far in the deep caverns beyond the dragon’s reach they began their slow return. When the winged tyrant slept, Rigwald would lead his warriors through the passages. There, just out of reach they would play many instruments, and sound mighty horns endlessly for as long as they had the energy. In the beginning this had little effect. First they startled the dragon. Then they annoyed it. Then, they enraged it. In a fury the beast left the cavern taking to the air. It wheeled about high above trying to heat the mountains to an unbearable temperature for its pests. This Rigwald had counted on. Howling like mad devils they charged into the vulnerable nest hacking, and smashing all but a few eggs. Those were to be carried away, their purpose unknown to this day.”

“Surely that is just an old fable?! Dragon eggs taken far under the mountains? Pah!” Bralduc tried to sound dismissive, and to make the story appear truly as something told to children around the fire. However, he could not hide his own child like eagerness to learn more of this epic.

“The growing heavy from the heat building in the cavern, Rigwald sounded the retreat once seeing the task complete. Upon its return the dragon observed its nest, and what would he left of its hell spawn scattered around the cavern floor. That night there would be no horns or instruments to taunt, and torment the dragon. Just long, low, mournful moans of the dragon throughout the cavern passages.” Sunniva held her hand up to prevent Bralduc from saying anything. “This was but the first phase of Rigwald’s plan. As the dragon slowly lapsed into rest from the fatigue of its own misery, at the break of dawn came the second. Rigwald, and his men slid from ropes like many spiders from the cavern ceiling. Slowly one by one warriors crept along the great black armored scales toward the neck of the dragon. There from the base of its skull, to its shoulders the men all took their places awaiting the signal. Each carried their weapons fastened to their hips, just on the outside of makeshift harnesses, tied to long spears by a length of rope. Once in place, they held firm like furious little fleas. Then came the order “Hold on! Dig in!” Cried Rigwald. The order was shouted down the entirety of the line. Each, and every man digging into the soft flesh with hook and spear.

The great heaving mass of the dragon began to rise from the earthen floor, bellowing in pain. Bounding to the exit it took a great leap into the air taking flight. Those unfortunate to be poor in their skills, or purely cursed by poor luck could be heard screaming their last, as they plummeted toward the mountain range below. Twice the dragon rapidly turned its body in an attempt to shake the parasites, but alas they held fast with their makeshift hooks and harnesses. The dragon gained in speed, but had leveled off. This provided Rigwald the opportunity he sought. “Now!” He cried. Unsheathing their weapons, the warriors began to hack and slash beneath the armored scales. A dark smattering of blood began coating them, but it was all to be relished in vengeance. Each droplet from the creature was for the entirety of their home. Not only for their loved ones. The wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, and children. No this was for the loss of a way of life in its entirety. Root, stock, and stem. Every leaf, and petal.

With this great titanic struggle lasting into late morning, slowly the people hidden deep within the recesses of the caverns crept out to observe. All their hopes pinned to the sheer lunacy of the challenge their warriors took up with. Shouting, and shrieks could be heard as one of the warriors plummeted from the dragon’s neck. High above the Valley the air was frigid, and biting but Rigwald and his men held fast. At high noon the great dragon began to slacken. Struggling to gain altitude over the lake Rigwald gave his final order. “Over the lake, it’s every man for himself! Cut loose, and Godspeed to dry land!” With that the men began to release their harnesses, shouting oaths, and prayers as they fell to the cold waters bellow. Rigwald however was not finished. Finding himself covered in the dragon’s blood, and still awash in the humility this creature brought upon himself, and his people he made for his final task. Tightening his harness he pulled from his back a great battle axe. Raising it high he buried it in the skull of the dragon. It’s loud painful protest heard across the valley. Bracing his heels to the base of the skull, clutching the haft of his great axe he called to the dragon “So you’re looking for a nice place to lie for awhile?! Well why don’t I help you out you son of a bitch!”. Howling his war cry Rigwald plummeted on a death ride with the behemoth to the earth at the mouth of the valley!” Sunniva was now on her feet punching at the air wildly. “Whether it understood or not has been widely contested.” Bralduc, and Graelis simply stared at her wild eyed before slowly turning back toward the great grinning maw at the Valley entrance that no longer seemed to them a natural stone formation. The story took root, and came to life through Sunniva’s passions. Bralduc had tried to douse that small flame lit within him with saying something logical. “How then, does a man survive that? How does a man survive to give rise to a lineage such as that that rules this valley?”

Sunniva grinned. “Did I say I was finished you mouthy oaf?” Bralduc was taken aback at first. “Rigwald survived! Look there at the tip of the jaws. Do you see that one missing fang?” She said pointing to the bottom left of the jaws. “Rigwald pulled that from his quarry. Dragging it to the camp of those that survived the battle at the lakeshore. It was there that he took the name Drakesian for himself, and those after him. He swore that his kin would be the defenders of this Valley, and that through victory he had claimed soul possession of the dragon’s soul.” Sunniva slowly quoted, and stared off into the distance in a dreamlike state. It was clear to Graelis where a great source of her pride seemed to originate from. However, it did not seem to help him by any stretch given the weight of the meeting that was arranged. He now saw this Duke Drakesian as a bull of a man with little to no patience for anyone. Least of all one of common status. Staring at that great set of fangs he thought any man that could do that, his ilk are likely frightening.

“Captain! Riders in the distance!” Called Sunniva. Graelis, and Bralduc rose. A large group of men in ornate plating, and flying large red banners displaying black fangs were approaching from the south.

“Well. I guess we have our meeting with the dragon.” Said Bralduc. Graelis simply swallowed, and began walking forward. As he looked upon that shining contingent moving in unison beneath those dark ominous banners, he couldn’t help but feel he was under the great winged shadow of that behemoth.