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The hunters look at each other, fear and adrenalin clear in their eyes. They had never hunted anything so big or dangerous in their lives. Brandishing spears and cloth shields, they ran at the great dragon, unaware that she had fallen into a deep sleep. And though she slept, her instinct to protect the single egg that she was incubating with her immense body heat took control and her mouth opened and she breathed on the empty space before her. The hunters watched in awe as the air around the great dragoness began to crystallize and form a protective cave around her. And in that moment, while her mouth was still open, the leader of the hunters saw a golden opportunity. Running as quickly as he could, the great hunter ran up to the dragoness, jumped on her snout, and stabbed one of her closed eyes with his spear. And when she screamed in pain, he hung on for dear life, angling the spear up more and driving it in deeper into her skull until it pierced her brain. In her last throes of death, the uninjured eye of the dragoness opened, and the hunter saw the pain and sadness in its golden depths. And he knew that he had done something horrible. But what had happened could not be undone, and the land would form around her body, keeping her egg incubated until it was ready to hatch.
Portia Sangria sighed as she leaned against an old elm tree. At least I’m not being smothered by maids anymore, she thought, wiping her brow on the sleeve of her dress. Looking up, she scanned her surroundings. Tall elms and pines covered the mountain side and blocked the sunlight while moss and ivy climbed the trunks of those very trees. Portia smiled when she saw a doe leading her young fawn towards a thicket. Most likely their wildlife highway, she thought, giggling when the fawn stumbled on its long, thin legs.
“Portia? Milady, where are you?!”
Portia gasped when she heard her personal handmaiden calling for her. Oh no! I’ve got to hide! Picking up her skirts, she ran through the woods, her long, thin legs carrying her towards a destination unknown. And to someone who had never seen her before or had never met her, Portia Sangria, Princess of the border city Erae would seem like a woodland goddess, running as gracefully as a doe through her wooded kingdom.
“Portia?” She gritted her teeth, listening to Valentine crash through the woods. I do not want to go back to the city yet! Leave me alone! As she ran, Portia looked for a place to hide. When the mouth of a cave suddenly appeared, she took a fast turn and ran inside, not caring if her dress got dirty or that it was dark and damp inside the cave. Slowing to a walk, she pushed deeper into the cave, marveling at the glowing fungus growing on the walls.
“At least I don’t need a lantern,” she murmured, marveling at the length of the tunnel and wondering how far beneath the ground she was. “Oh well,” she said, smiling cheerfully as she traveled deeper into the cave, “At least I’m not being shown to numerous, smelly men whose only objective is to marry me for Papa’s money. And you know, a person can’t really be shown like some prized filly at auc…tion…” Her words trailed off as she entered a large cavern in which in the middle sat a large, egg shaped, solid black boulder. Walking slowly up to it, she ran her hands over it, finding it to be smooth and slightly shiny in the light given off by the glowing fungi that grew everywhere, except where she walked, as if it were a path to the unusually shaped boulder.
“What is this?” She asked the silent cavern, marveling at the smoothness of the boulder as she ran her hands over it. Humming to herself, she smiled and bent over, laying her cheek against the boulder. When warmth started to emanate from the boulder and an answering hum began to fill the cavern, she stood up and looked at the small, hairline cracks forming on it. Blinking in confusion, she watched the cracks grow bigger and start to widen, as if something inside were trying to get out.
As she watched, a slender, solid black snout poked out through a hole that had appeared in the boulder. It was closely followed by two claws and the rest of the head. Portia gasped when she realized what was happening. Blinking large, silver eyes, the creature chirped a happy greeting and crawled out of what remained of its egg.
Chirping and trilling, the little, solid black creature crawled over to where Portia sat on the ground, her mouth agape in shock and awe. Oh goddess, what am I supposed to do? Quaking like a leaf in the wind, she sat stock still while the creature sniffed and chirped at her.
“Oh sweet mother Nirita,” she prayed under her breath, “Please, tell me what I’m supposed to do. And what is this thing in front of me?”
“It’s a baby dragon,” a gentle voice said from the mouth of the tunnel.
Portia gasped and looked up to see a young woman standing there, smiling with a gentle look in her green eyes. Her brown hair was swept up on top of her head and had white flowers braided in it, her brown dress was covered in animal fur and grass stains and three baby rabbits followed closely behind her.
“Goddess Nirita?” Portia breathed, awe in her voice. This day just keeps getting stranger and more magical, doesn’t it?
“Yes child,” the woman chuckled, squatting down and calling the baby dragon over to her before glancing back at the one that had summoned her, “You called for me, did you not? I came to answer your questions.”
“Yes ma’am.” That Nirita would even answer her questions and her call was something new to Portia. Though I guess it’s not really unheard of. She thought, watching the dragon rub up against the goddess and trill its happiness. She is one of the nicer goddesses and it’s been said before that she is known to answer prayers and calls for help.
“Well Miss Portia,” Nirita said, bringing her out of her thoughts, “What are your questions?”
“Oh, yes, um, what is a dragon?”
Nirita laughed at the question, rocking back on her heels until she finally sat down. The baby rabbits that were her constant companions wiggled their ears and hopped over to her, burrowing under the folds of her skirt and falling asleep. The dragon hatchling chirped and crawled up on her lap before he stuck his nose in her face and chirped a string of concerned questions, his paper thin wings flapping with no effect.
“Oh hush little one, I am fine,” she laughed, pushing the hatchling back away from her face and stroking him from nose tip to tail tip. “Now,” she said, her eyes and smile bright, “You asked what a dragon was and I can see now that you weren’t joking. Goodness me, I keep forgetting that most of the dragons have left Bolannor far behind, so the people don’t remember them or most times don’t even know what one is.”
Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Nirita started in with her explanation of dragons. “Now,” she said, gesturing to the glowing fungus so that it would glow brighter in the coming darkness, “Dragons are glorious creatures and there are many different types. Or well, there were. Most of them were carnivorous, though a few were herbivorous. And they all came in different sizes as well. Like this little one here, he’s about the size of a medium sized dog right now, but he’s a typical mountain dragon. And as you know since you’ve wandered over this mountain, things here tend to be a mite bigger than things in the lowlands, so once he’s fully matured, he’ll be at eye level with some of the bigger castles in Bolannor.
“In the old days, dragons like him were fairly abundant, though the birth rate was low. Even before the humans arrived here, when dragons thrived, the most we Goddesses would ever see is a couple thousand at a time. This is because dragon eggs take many thousands of years to incubate. This hatchling for example, his egg took three thousand years to incubate. And even once they’re done incubating, a dragon will not hatch until the egg is touched and the toucher hums, as you did unknowingly. Therefore, there are probably many more dragon eggs hidden all over Bolannor. And no, dragon eggs do not rot. They will wait for as long as it takes for someone to hum the hatching song and touch the egg.
“The hatchlings of most dragon species grow fairly fast. And generally, when a dragon egg hatches, the first person the hatchling sees it thinks is its mother. I think the Iasiri call it imprinting. Like, if this hatchling had seen George here,” Portia watched as Nirita pulled the darkest baby rabbit from under her skirt and held it up for her inspection, “he would have imprinted on him.”
George squeaked and struggled in Nirita’s hands when the hatchling lifted his nose to sniff him. The hatchling chirped and perked his ears up, fanning his wings out and lifting one of his front legs up as he watched the rabbit struggle. Trilling in confusion, he watched George tumble from Nirita’s hands and fall into her lap. When he realized that the rabbit was afraid of him, he trilled sadly and turned towards Portia, seeking comfort from her.
Feeling sorry for him, and maybe by instinct, Portia scooped the hatchling up in her arms and hummed to him until he fell asleep on her lap. Surprised that she had done that, she looked up at the Earth Goddess, confusion clear in her eyes.
“Tell me mistress,” she said, surprised when George grew into an adult rabbit right before her eyes, “Why did I do that?”
“Because you are his mother,” she said, smiling and stroking George while his still baby sisters played in the glowing fungus. “Well, actually, you have been imprinted, and imprinting brings out certain instincts in the one that has been imprinted. Such as comforting a baby or singing them to sleep. Dragons, unlike other certain magical beings, only imprint once in their lives. So, if you were to die, that hatchling would wander around forever without ever imprinting again. Do you understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” Portia murmured, staring at the hatchling in her lap.
“So, what are you going to call him?”
“Hm? Oh.” She studied the hatchling as she tried to think of a name for him, noticing the silver tipping his wings and tail and the silvery coloring of his baby horns and claws. “Silver,” she said without hesitation, feeling that was the right name for him.
“That is a very good name,” the goddess started before she trailed off and tilted her head to the side, as if listening to some sound only she could hear. “I must go. Your teacher and handmaid are on their way. You may ask one more question before I leave you.”
“Oh, um…” She bit her bottom lip and looked around, trying to think of a question. And then it came to her, the question she wanted, no needed, to ask. “What is this glowing fungus called?”
“Gloritan and it is usually white, though in rare cases it can be found to be red, reddish-orange, orange or yellow and give off a fiery glow. Now I must go. Good bye little one, I suspect I shall see you again. Take good care of that hatchling!” With those last words, the goddess disappeared in a whirlwind of leaves and dust.
In Stalandra, the nights are freezing and the days will burn you if you aren't used to the heat. The people here specialize in thievery and mechanics. The people are usually dark skinned and wear light colored clothing. And the land is covered in sand, with no grass or dirt patches to be found anywhere for farming.
And a great, brown dragoness lies here in this barren land, watching over the man that happened upon her egg and hatched her. Her primary horns go back over her ears while her secondary ones curl under to hold the light orbs that mark her as female. Her wings are fanned out to protect the man and his merchandise, and her great tail is curled around her other side to form a sort of fence for the animals. And around her neck lies a great collar, encrusted with rubies and sapphires; emeralds and topaz; crystal and diamonds. And within this collar lies a strange magic. A magic that does not allow the dragoness to fly away at will.
And for that collar alone, the dragoness hates the man and all humans. She does not trust them and she would rather crunch their bones between her teeth than even look at one. For it was a human man that grounded her and took away her freedom.
Stupid human, she thought, glaring at the man sleeping so peacefully beneath her wing. If I could crush your bones with my teeth I would. And I would enjoy every minute of it, too! Snorting her contempt, she shifted her weight so that she was a little more comfortable. She was just about to lay her head down on her claws when she felt something ripple in the air.
Shivering with excitement and confusion, she lifted her head up and stared off into the distance towards the border city of Erae. Another dragon has hatched, she thought, the light orbs floating in her secondary horns glowing brighter. Kneading her claws like a pleased cat, she whimpered and shifted her weight again. It was just as it had always been; once a new dragon was hatched, it was customary for the others to go and greet it. But she could not. Her wings were virtually useless and if she tried to wander off the magic in the collar would send a horrible shock through her.
Stupid, stupid human, she growled, again turning angry golden eyes on the man. I should just bite his head off, the greedy idiot. But I have no idea what would happen if I did. Sighing forlornly, she settled back down and stared wistfully into the distance, dreaming of a freedom she had never known.
