Snow fell, not white but red.
Dark blotches covered the snow, like rubies jutting across a snowfield. The wind carried howls of pain and sorrow, not of wolves singing to the moon. Splintered bows and shattered swords turned the battlefield into an armory of ruin. Banners and flags lay trampled under stones—which once stood proud as a part of the mighty bastions. Dead and alive, friends and foes alike lay dissected beneath the rubble—their shredded parts adding to the grotesqueness of the scene. A cremation ceremony awaited the dead bodies—soon to be reduced to ashes that would seep into the soil as fertilizer. A soldier sobbed silently in the scarf of their fallen friend—comrade. The atmosphere hung heavy with the scent of death and blood. Nevertheless, this is how a scrimmage always ends—gorey and gloomy.
The tendrils of smoke swirled from the cigar like snakes coiling in on themselves. Its ashes lay scattered, a stark contrast against the smooth porcelain ashtray. Commander Velkar Duskbane, the leader of Wing D, stood under the vaulted ceiling of the turret, overlooking the fort. His hand moved in a constant rhythm, flicking ash from the cigar with practiced ease.
"How many, Heinrich?" he inquired.
"Fifteen dead and thirty five injured, Commander," replied Heinrich—the Vice-commander—monotonously, his face set in a grim line.
Velkar hummed in a response, "How is good old Henry doing?" he added.
"Great for his age, Beck said that Henry has patched up half the cripples," Heinrich answered, "but overexertion has taken a toll on his health."
Beck, the stocky and bald disciple of the old physician, kept report of Henry's every move and was always eager to assist him.
Velkar said nothing and took a long draught of the tobacco roll, and the Vice-commander took it as a sign of tacit dismissal.
The fort Varethgard, nestled deep in the icy mountains of Thurnwynn, served as a key position for surveillance. However, its purpose expanded the day Queen Astoria — infamously known as the Ash Queen for her notorious incineration of the Dragons in pursuit of immortality — declared her opposition against the North. An ancient prophecy foretold that by killing the dragons and offering their blood as a gift to the Goddess of Fire—Vahra—in her shrine, the Ember Throne, would grant person immortality. The Ash Queen accused the Northerners of conspiring behind her back, attempting to hinder her path to immortality, as the North was loyal to the Dragons. For that reason, she waged war against her own people. Now, the North was on high alert, awaiting the tyrant queen's attack. And Varethgard loomed over as a silent sentinel.
The eastern part of the Varethgard weathered the blow of Ash Queen's troops without crumbling. Hitherto, everything was going well. Commander Velkar retreaded to his office, pondering over the recent melee and the ongoing war, when a screeching noise startled him out of his thoughts. He swiveled toward the noise and found a raven at the windowpane, its talons scraping against the glass. He stood up and walked to the window. With a creak, he slid the window open, and the cawing raven leapt inside, settling itself on the Cloak fang—a coat stand. He cautiously approached it, and noticed a small cylinder tied to its leg.
A messenger raven. Who would have sent it?
He carefully untangled the cylinder free from her leg, and opened it. A wrinkled, yellowed note emerged from within. The seal on the parchment suggested that Wing E sent it. It read,
Ashes fell, the tyrant rose. Skeldrim Hold and its soldiers are falling. The hold calls for strength anew—dispatch all who bear arms. Ash Queen's troops have invaded and left us vulnerable.
He clenched the note hard. Wing E, from day one had been the weakest in their chain of defence. Despite having a considerable amount of troops, they could not shield themselves against the adversaries. Why? Simple, because they did not have a Guardian Dragon like other, Holds and Forts did, and most of the standing army consisted of criminals sent as soldiers for repentance; these penitentiary soldiers did not know how to fight a real battle. It was no secret that tyrant queen's troops were skilled. One could guesstimate that their opponent either had a Dragon or were very strong. Queen's forces were infamous for leaving there enemies weak not dead, so they can feel the weight of the disgrace they had brought to their people.
Reinforcements were promised to each wing by the fourth moon, but it had been well past seven moons, and there was no trace of them. The underpinnings might have been intercepted or worse have not been sent, yet. Velkar stood at the center of room, thinking the consequences of sending some of his soldiers and supplies over to Wing E. But it seemed pointless, this help would equal to none.
"Seven nights is too long to wait. By then, there may be no Wing E left to save," he muttered to himself.
Velkar broke out of his train of thought, at the sudden burst of the door. A soldier came in panting and anxious. His spittle flew everywhere, as he rapidly blurted out,
"The Dragon has gone mad."
At the utterance of these words, they both rushed out and towards the Dragonspire. The growl of Nivoryx seemed to get louder and fiercer with each stride. As they reached their destination, after a few agonizing minutes, they found the Dragonspire's gate torn to pieces, splintered bits, and metal chunks flew everywhere and some of the part had turned to ashes. A crowd had gathered. Servants and cooks watched from the windows of their quarters, scared witless. Horses neighed in their stables awestruck by horror of the monstrous entity. The dragon had turned its home into a ramshackle shell in a length of few minutes. Heinrich came up beside him, bellowing commands, as Velkar watched with horrified fascination as Nivoryx flapped its giant grey wings. He failed to notice the two mages struggling to control him. It looked, as if the Dragon was in pain not gone bonkers. But what has him pained? thought Velkar. Nivoryx golden eyes gleamed, as he vigorously took a long draught of the air and unleashed it back as a massive inferno. Its black scales glimmered under the heat. Suddenly, it felt too hot. The top tower of the Dragonspire had caught fire. Some soldiers, who were standing too close, scorched into blackened cinders. Some got away with an obliterated limb.
"What happened to Nivoryx?" He screamed at whoever was not busy enough to answer.
"We haven't the slightest clue, Lord Commander," came a voice of a soldier, "it was fine, when we delivered it the meat."
Nivoryx had resorted to its tail for more damage. They needed to do something quickly. He called out,
"Use the forbidden spell!"
"But that is forbidden, m'lord." one of the mage said, looking horrified. The other nodded its head in agreement.
"Don't I know," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "It's not time to think about good or bad. I command it. Do it."
The mages looked conflicted, but they didn't have any choice left. Either do this or die. They looked at each other for the last time and braced themselves.
"Vorth Ka'shar, I bind you." they both chanted.
Red magical restraints popped out of the air, encircling the dragon and trapping him. Nivoryx roared for the last time, flailing but failing. Eventually, the commotion died down. Nivoryx growled, nostrils flaring.
Velkar said in old tongue, "O Dragoni! Tell me the meaning of this chaos."
The Dragon said nothing, but continued to look at him menacingly.
"Tell me, Dragoni. I ordain it." Velkar bellowed.
"Vaelkor," he said seething, "The fire inside me is dimming. I am unable to contact my brethren. This has triggered immense pain and I momentarily lost control. I can't seem to grasp on the source of power, it is diminishing, quickly."
He coughed vehemently. Velkar looked at him with a mix of worriedness and apprehension, and asked,
"You won't survive, will you? What about your brethren?"
"Dracari is falling, it's falling." he breathed out. He coughed again, violently, and staggered.
Suddenly, a light burst from within the captive dragon, not flame—but a memory. Something older than the mountains. Casting an ethereal glow upon his being. It seemed to thaw the fire in his gut. His eyes turned blue and shone.
A voice came from the depths. It wasn't Nivoryx's, Velkar was certain, as were others. Everyone was rendered speechless by the sight. Their jaws hung open, eyes wide. A haunting melody speared through the air,
"He shall rise from flame and ash,
Of blood pure, yet tainted fast.
Not crowned in gold, but nameless born,
Last to come, and first to warn.
As sky ripens and stars bleed red,
He shall wake what all thought dead.
With storm and shadow close behind,
And thrones shall clash, unclaimed, unkind.
For when he calls, the old gods turn—
And fire forgets what once it burned."
The song came to an end. A wolf howled in the distance. A raven cawed. Everyone stayed rooted to the ground, as the dragon burned to ashes. None looked away, none spoke, as its being morphed into a heap of ashes, raining down—black and burgundy. Wind carried its essence.
Velkar looked down as a stray, blazing ember landed in his palm. Different. A symbol. He looked down at the ember resting in his palm. It pulsed, as if it were half-alive. And a terrifying realization dawned on him. It was a revelation. A reckoning. The war had only just begun.
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Some Vocab regarding the world. I'll add at the end of each chapter.
Forbidden Spell: Vorth Ka'shar
It is a physical-binding spell, and forces a dragon into submission.
Its negative side effect is that it can cause hallucination and madness.
Pronunciation: vawrth kah-SHAR
Vaelkor
It means Commander in old Tongue.
Do not confuse it with Velkar.
Dracari
It actually refers to the House of Dragons. And the old tongue is often referred to as Dracari.
Dragoni
Means Dragon in old tongue.
Old Tongue
It was the language that people of Thurnwynn used to speak, three centuries ago. Now, Thurnic is the common language.
Thurnwynn
The main kingdom, home to the protagonist.
Pronunciation: THURN-vin
Dragonspire
A place where a dragon resides in Forts, holds, etc. There are other places, too. I won't reveal it, yet.