~Prologue~
Deep rumbling echoed off the stone walls of the winding cavern. The heart of the stiff mountain housed one of the most dangerous creatures known to man, a mother dragon. She purred happily, wrapped around her most prized possession. It was more precious than the hordes of gold and jewels she kept, worth more than every magical item she had ever seen. She shifted, rubbing up against the fiery sticks and heated stones that made the bed of this endeared treasure. Her eggs, nestled safely in the warmest part of the flame, shimmered silver marbled with golden swirls. She knew today was the day they would hatch; she felt their life pulses strengthening. She covered the fire with her wings, keeping the heat down around the eggs. She crooned softly, patiently waiting for the reply. She heard it, the clicks and squeaks of small dragons poking the hard shell membrane. She pushed the fiery sticks away onto the cold, stone floor, where they would eventually burn away into nothing. She crooned again, and again the chorus of small chirps replied. She watched the four eggs carefully, anxious to see which one would emerge first. Soft rapping joined the occasional squeaks, announcing that the wyrmlings inside wanted to emerge and see her; they wanted to shed the crowded eggshells and see the world. She purred again, and they tapped harder, knowing she was there waiting for them. They began twitching, the beings inside trying to find some kink, some purchase that would give them freedom. She continued her throaty purr, watching curiously; every litter that hatched was different.
One shook very violently, shuddering away from its siblings and allowing for one tiny hole. She peered at it. A small egg tooth had pierced the tough yet fragile egg shell. She watched as it poked, little by little, until there was a hole that her baby could see out of. She leaned over it, peering into the world of her baby. It was dark in the egg, and a small, silver nose poked out of the miniscule hole, nostrils flaring. Another egg rocked violently, and she swept her tail around her treasures to keep them from falling away. Small holes began to appear in all the eggs- she saw wing tips and claws flailing to make them bigger. She saw a golden nose tip, much like their father’s. She used her silver tail to flick away discarded pieces of eggs as more and more scattered. The first egg shook violently again, causing a large crack to appear. With a final thrust, the top popped off. She saw her first offspring, a tiny silver head with blue eyes sneaking up through the hole. She purred, and he chirped, worn by the effort. She gently poked him with her silver muzzle, purring. He lifted his head and rubbed against her, finding his own purr. The sounds emanated through the corridors. She licked his soft cheek scales, and he stuck out his tongue in reply, knocking off his egg tooth. Another chirp was aroused, and she turned, seeing another hatchling trying to touch the world. It clawed at its shell, creating small cracks until she could push her leg out. The small, new claws scraped across the ground, feeling the tough rock.
All around her more shell was cracking off, giving visions of new life. Her son, the one whose egg tooth had already fallen out, wiggled the rest of the way out of his shell. He rested on the floor, ready for a nap rather than exploring the world. She licked up his back, causing little spines to rise off of his body. He wearily stretched out his wings, wanting them to air out. She saw the membranes were a golden hue, even though his scales were silver. His spines were also a bright yellow, giving him a fine metallic look. She purred as more of his siblings kicked their shells off, showing off their claws and damp wings. The first girl was completely silver, like herself, but had her father’s blue eyes. The second female was mainly golden with her purple eyes, but had small details that were silver, like her wing membranes and her tail tip. The last one to hatch, another boy, was totally golden, an exact replica of his father, except for her purple eyes. She slithered her tail around and pulled them all close, licking stray pieces of egg and dirt off of them. Her joyous rumblings made the hollow mountain resonate, maybe a bit too loudly.
Men. Humans. They climbed the mountain, not knowing what to expect. Their patrol of fifty or so men might not stand a chance against a full grown dragon, but they knew reinforcements were coming, so they would try anyways. Over the mountainside they roamed, searching deliberately for the opening to the passage to the dragon’s lair. This would give them fame and glory.
“Where would a dragon make the entrance to its lair?” Sir Delvon, who was in charge of the expedition asked of his expert wizard, Hustarios.
“Someplace they could fly into it. That would be a regular dragon; a smart dragon would place it somewhere hidden, but easy to memorize its location.” He replied honestly. He was paid to help Sir Delvon in his quest, but he was not so sure it was the right thing. “Sir, do you know what color the dragon is? If we knew that, we could surmise much more about its den.”
“No, I am not sure of its color, but I have heard it is silver or some shiny color like that. Imagine a set of silver Dragonscale armor. Hustarois, that would certainly be worth it.” Sir Delvon smiled at his day dreams.
Hustarios frowned. No, I’m afraid it’s not. Not with a silver dragon. “Sir, I know that Silver Dragons are very good with the magic of dragons. They are knowledgeable and wise, not rash or quick to anger. If it truly is a Silver Dragon, are you sure we should risk it?” Besides… Not all dragons are evil.
“Bah! Dragons are dragons, aren’t they? No matter what type is slain, it still gives glory and protection to the citizens.” He acts as if he were actually trying to do this for the people Hustarios notes.
“This dragon has done no harm to us; what if it is not a monster? What if it is a possible ally?” He tried to bring up a point to sway the ignorant knight.
Sir Delvon turned to him; Hustarios was unsure whether he was enraged or embarrassed. “Fool! No dragon has ever aided us. Why would this one be different? The world is better off without dragons.” He huffed. Hustarios sighed- saying more to anger the knight could mean… his death. He still did not agree with the king’s policy, but he was in no position to argue. He kept on silently, certain that they were walking into trouble.
Knocking the last of the eggshell off her new kin, she gathered it all into a pile and buried it, deep in the sand of her den. Even a dragon’s eggshell had special magical properties, so she found it important to keep it well hidden. As her wyrmlings suckled, caught in the warmth of her newfound love for them, she found their names. The first hatched was named Berylchromacuquist, since, to the dismay of some other races, draconic names were always long, complicated, and easier to say in their own tongue, not to mention that they were already given, having been formulated as part of their magical signatures.. For all the other races who didn’t have as good of control over their vocal cords or their memory, she gave him a common name: Beryl. The silver female she named Garnetathialunianesk, aka Garnet, the golden female she named Chysanthiasperluci, aka Chrysanthia, and her last hatchling she named Didrosotyconith, also to be called Didros. She spread her wings over them, a proud mother with four tired babies. Unfortunately, the peace didn’t keep. Her head shot up as an image flashed over her vision. Her territory had been crossed, the magical alarm she had set a little ways from the outside her den had been tripped. She saw them- a troupe of soldiers passing over the edge of her hill. They weren’t just passing through, either. They knew she was here, and was coming for her. Such a bad time! Humans. Their timing is despicable. She growled. She glanced down at her wyrmlings, rubbing up against her. I must protect them. She resolved. They must not be harmed. She stood smoothly, gracefully pulling the wyrmlings back towards the middle of the chamber. They squeaked in protest, trying to find her warmth again. Beryl opened his bright blue eyes and looked at her. He watched her as she gracefully moved rocks and piled them in front of him and his siblings. She patted them down with her tail and gathered the warm sand up around them. Beryl, his eyes curious, tried to scoot towards her, but she placed him back with his siblings. More eyes popped open around him, looking longingly at her. Stay. She told them mentally. Though they didn’t understand the word itself, the feeling that came with the command gave them the right idea. They quit squirming and squawking, reverting to huddling against each other and letting out small whimperings. Sighing, she slid out of the small, confined cavern and into her main room. Small and confined for a dragon meant about thirty feet high and sixty feet in each direction, and the main chamber of her magnificent den was about a hundred feet high and round, with a diameter that was half again as much. Her cave, built from a foothill deep into the heart of a mountain, was sturdy and well built. She stretched open her wings and wired them out in her main burrow, for though there was not enough room to fly, she preferred using buffets of wind among other things to press her enemy back. She may not be able to stop their coming, but she would rather die than let them touch her kin. She let out a growl as another magical alarm was tripped; the enemy was closing in fast.
He wished beyond all hope that he could change the knight’s mind, but he knew, as he saw the men form their ranks, that it was too late. Many of the men would die, but he did not intend to be in that number. He knew how angry dragons fought, and he knew that it was best not to fight a dragon at all. He quickly used his magic to poke around inside the den, getting the layout and the position of the dragon. He inhaled sharply- there was definitely a sentient, capable being in there, standing tall on its own turf. Besides that, he soon found four smaller lives, amazingly young and innocent. This isn’t just an angry dragon. This is an angry, mother silver dragon. This attack is most certainly doomed, and of course Sir Delvon doesn't care that he's leading his people to their deaths. This must be why knights seem to be depleting in number. He stifled a groan, it was better that the knight did not know; he would just want to kill the wyrmlings as well, which would probably cause the dragon to go into a full blown rage. Maybe he could at least save a few lives today.
Sir Delvon let out a fierce battle cry, and soldiers raced in around him. “Oh dear!” The wizard was hustled forward into the wide den. Shout arose from around him as soldiers lifted their swords. He dove out of the crowd and dove behind a rock, not wanting to be in the way of the soldiers or the dragon. He looked up at the battle, and saw many of the men frozen with the fear that dragons emanated. He closed his and tried to think. What can I do to help? … Who should I be helping?
Her eyes narrowed to slits as the knight rushed in, his troupe hot on his heels. She blinked, aware of a powerful magical force entering her cavern. She spotted a wizard in their midst leap behind a rock. Smart. She glared at the soldiers in front of her, lifted her wings, and let out a low growl. They froze, filled with fear, but the knight kept charging. She lashed her tail out behind her, ready for them. Slowly, the infantry joined their leader, charging the rest of the way across the room towards her, and she let out a roar that shook the cavern to its foundations, sending some of the men flying. Her tail swung around and struck the knight off his feet, and his sword flew across the room. What a fool.
Other soldiers slashed at her front leg, and she lifted it quickly,sending them all flying backwards. She let out another roar and heaved back to her hind legs, flicking her wings back. She beat furiously, whipping wind around the cavern furiously. Some men, being lighter and less dense than rock, got tripped off their feet and rolled out of their formations, becoming scattered like pebbles in a river. The sand of the floor got whipped up and lashed at her opponent’s skin, making them cry out in pain and surprise. She came down again with a boom that again rattled the cave, and took a deep breath. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the wizard duck down behind his rock and pull his robe over his head. She recognized the fireproof material and realized he was the only one here who was actually ready to fight a dragon. Other men dived behind rocks and each other, realizing what she was doing. With a fury that would have impressed her own parents, silver fire streamed out of the dragon’s mouth, curling and licking all who remained standing as she dragged it before her across the room. The wizard remained huddled behind the rock until the roar of the fire died down, and peeked out from behind the rock. Most of the toupe was dead, not even a fifth remained, he guessed.
Somehow, Sir Delvon was still alive. He crawled out from behind another rock on the other side of the wide cavern and glared at the wizard. “Hustarios! DO SOMETHING!” The knight hollered.
Oh, forgive me, miss. Hustarios sent the thought to the dragon and stuck his hand out. Lightning arched across the room and nailed the ceiling above her head. She reeled back as huge chunks of dirt and rock rained down on top of her. She stepped back and let out a low hiss at the hindrance in front of her. Her head darted up and Sir Delvon smirked in delight. “Face the wrath of men, foul beast!” He shouted. Irritated, she promptly lunged forward and pounded his with her foot. Hustarios popped up from his hiding place in time to see the disturbance: The reinforcements had arrived. Hundreds of men in full plate surged forward, wielding spears and lances along with their swords. The silver dragon backed up a bit, crouching down in a defensive stance, like a cat ready to pounce. Hustarios gasped, noticing the dark tunnel behind her. The men surged forward, but stopped suddenly as the first of the men hit an invisible wall and flew back. A ripple passed through the magical shield, tracing it up and over the dragon’s head. The new leader of the army showed his sword and slashed at it. The sword glowed and sliced through the air, cutting into the shield. The dragon hissed at the magic-repelling sword and clawed at the men crowding around her feet. Hustarios advanced from behind his rock carefully.
Out of nowhere, a sonic blast resonated around the cavern and some of the men fell in pain. Hustarios covered his ears, knowing the dragon’s magic was strong. Spikes arose from the ground in front of her with a jolt, forcing the opponent back. A soldier jabbed her in the lag with his lance, causing her to roar in pain. She swung her tail around to knock back the men, but it also got stabbed multiple times. The new knight yelled for the men to attack her from behind and several slipped in the tunnel behind her. She whirled around and caught a few of them in her jaws, tossing them across the cavern. The spines on her back stood up straight as her own lightning bolt cam out of nowhere and struck the midst of the soldiers. One of the remaining men in the tunnel stabbed her, and she roared again.
Down the tunnel, one of the wyrmlings let out a worried squeak as it heard its mother’s pain. One of the men gasped and ran out to the leading knight. “Sir, there are baby dragons back there!”
Hustarios let out a groan. This would not end well.
The knight, with a new invigoration, attacked again and slipped past her. She whipped around and clawed at the soldiers, but they slashed at her as they passed. As a last attempt to keep the soldiers away from her precious wyrmlings, the floor split in front of them, opening a chasm in the floor. Several men fell, astonished, but the knight stopped with a frown. She grabbed his scale armor with her teeth and moved to throw him over her shoulder, but he flew up and grabbed her wing tip and plunged his sword into her wing. With a cry, her wings seized up and he flew across the chasm, landing roughly on the other side. With a cry of triumph, he stood. Soon, the men were flocking her, grabbing onto her and being flung everywhere. Some, on the other side of the chasm, joined their leader.
The roaring went on behind them. “Sir Reslav, what do we do?”
The knight became thoughtful. “There appears to be more than two babies. Dragons are very powerful, even young ones. If we could harness their power, we could become the most successful kingdom in the realm!” He concluded. “Bag as many as you can get and kill the rest!” The men produced bags and ran towards them.
She would not allow this. She concentrated, and all the soldiers still on her burst into flame and fell. She leaped across the chasm and erupted into the small room.
One man threw a bag over Beryl’s head and scooped him up. With a savage wail of self preservation, the bottom split open and he fell back out. One tried to get Garnet but she slashed at his ankles, and he fell. Their mother burst into the room and whacked them, then she clawed one standing over Didros. She looked at Sir Reslav, who had her last baby in a sack already, and he threw it to another soldier. She Snapped at the soldier, but he ran out of the way.
“Dragon!”
She turned back to Sir Reslov, who was holding Didros by his neck. He was curled up in a feeble position and had a wide eye on the dagger that the knight held by its side. His mother’s eyes were slits as she growled. Her tail came around, but the knight beld the dagger closer to the baby. Didros yelped.
“Make one wring move, and I’ll kill it!” He told her, in all seriousness. Beryl cried out as one of the men stepped on his wing, and there was a slight snapping noise. There was a flash and that man lay dead, struck down by lightning. Her tail collected Beryl and Garnet, pulling them close.
Hustarios watched silently. He knew that this dragon would never forget this… It would only make life harder for the kingdom.
The man with Chrysanthia in a bag ran out of the tunnel. She growled and looked after him, but the knight moved the dagger closer to Didros. He curled up as tight as he could into a defensive ball.
“Don’t do that, you will really regret it.” Hustarios warned him.
The silver dragon growled at Sir Reslov as he laughed. “Foolish Wizard Hustarios, I’ll have you tried for treason anyways. I am doing this for my brother, Sir Delvon. I will be a dragon slayer, and his death will be repaid.” The knight stabbed the dragon’s soft side. He squawked and fell from the knight’s hand.
“No!” The wizard watched the baby drop, limp. “Oh no….”
The silver dragon watched the troops run away with Chrysanthia, who was crying for her. They were already too far away, they could actually maneuver the forest when she couldn’t. Go now, before I change my mind. She told the wizard and turned her back on him. Hustarios took a few steps back and looked at her again. At the last second, he read her mind. She approached Sir Reslov, growling. Murderer. Her neck arched up, and she looked down at him. That army may make it home, but its leader will not. She thought, striking the ignorant knight with her jaws wide.
Hustarios turned and ran, creating a small bridge over the gap. The dragon had spared him… and he was now in her debt. He knew her name, for he had read it on her magical signature- it was one he had never heard, and he would never forget it.
Silvius.
