I decided to write a WoF prequel story with some ideas swirling about in my head. If you readers like it, I have an outline for two more stories to come afterwards in a trilogy. It is set primarily in a time a few years after Darkstalker's imprisonment and concerns the next generation of dragons as their destinies are shaped. Many characters introduced will be ones of my own creation, but the universe of Pyrrhia belongs to Tui T. Sutherland. This first chapter is part 1 of the prologue, the next chapter will be part 2. Afterwards the chapters following will primarily be focused on the main characters and their time. But for now, this beginning gives some flavor and sets up what is to come. The cover for the story is my own work, and a portrait of Marble. I hope you all enjoy my scrawlings as much as I enjoyed making them.
This is part 1 of the prologue, to skip to when our main character shows up head to chapter 3.
Somewhere deep within a long undisturbed dusty cave, a miner toiled. He'd been working away at the stone for some time, stopping to take occasional breaks for food and drink. Though he'd been retired for a few years now, curiosity had driven him to excavate the quiet hideaway nonetheless. Upon stumbling inside a few days previously seeking shelter from torrential rain he'd been surprised to discover some odd objects. They appeared to be artifacts of an old civilization, though there was something suggestive of... divergence from standard relics. For example, all of them seemed unusually large. The miner had first found a massive urn of some kind of baked clay that was as long as he was tall. Etched upon it were flowing lines that seemed to indicate rivers of some kind. Tracing the engravings for a moment, he realized additional details within the waters. Serpentine creatures were depicted as swimming through the water, their oddly expressive snouts communicating joy in their design. Something marked them as more than mere snakes; long, graceful wings.
'Dragons?' the miner wondered to himself.
Such creatures were popular in folklore and old tales of the land. Mythical though they were, the beasts were regarded with a sort of wonder by the civilization of Pendria. Artists would paint their graceful forms in many styles in more fantastical works. Some family crests, including that of the royal family, included dragons as part of their imagery. Quietly, the miner pondered how the old stories of magical creatures could linger so in their world, despite never having existed outside of those stories.
He'd nearly tripped over the next ancient thing; it lay broken on the ground, obscured by a layer of dust and dirt. As the miner picked up one of the pieces and brushed away the coating of debris he was surprised to feel the smooth texture of glass. Even stranger, within the glass swirled many shades of blue and green in ways he'd never seen. The best he could compare it to were some new kinds of glass art that the court sculptors had been trying to create recently. But they lacked the touch of evident time and mastery with which the broken item before him was made.
Before he could inspect the fractured artwork more closely, the miner's eyes were drawn to a rectangular shape near his feet. Reaching to pick it up, it was evidently some kind of book. Though, like the other oddities, it was very large. By the time the miner was able to drag it upright and set it against the cave's wall it more resembled a door than a book. It took an effort to open; at first he'd examined the leather cover for a title, but found none. After straining his arms to push the cover open he coughed at a great cloud of dust, fragments of paper and bugs that billowed from the tattered pages. To his disappointment, most of the book had been eaten away through a combination of time, nature and insects. But several of the beginning pages remained intact. Tentatively, the miner began to read. As he delved past the introductory note, he began to mourn that he would only be able to get a glimpse into the strange world the book uncovered. He could only begin to guess at the true breadth of the chronicle half-crumbled away by the ages.
Pyrrhia's history is a long and turbulent one. As an island inhabited by dragons, it was always destined to be a nexus of many great and terrible events. Some of these events have become obscured and forgotten in the fog of the far past. Here, in this tome, is one such lost fragment. Though the time itself may have been left behind in memory it was one that resonated through the centuries to come. But there are those who do still remember the ancestors of some of Pyrrhia's most remarkable dragons. To know how they lived and died is to know how the years were shaped. Because after all, you cannot have history without telling a story...
The tale begins atop a dark rocky peak shortly after sunset. A somewhat small but sturdy home made of stone and wood rests on the flat, wide surface at the very top. Though it is gray and unremarkable on the outside, through painted glass windows there can be seen colorful flashes that hint at interior beauty. A balcony stretches outside as though reaching for the great view below. The occupants of the structure are few, but they are happy. One was stepping out onto the balcony at a leisurely pace. His scales melded with the night sky; deep hues of black and gray, his wings speckled with points of light like the uncountable stars far above. A simple pair of round spectacles helped to focus his eyes as they scanned the peaceful environment before coming to rest on something on the balcony floor.
He took a breath of the refreshing nighttime air and stepped towards the small treasures that lay nearby. He carefully adjusted his left foreleg as he moved. Gently clutched in it was a delicate, flat object with an oval shape. Upon it's canvas were inscribed uncountable hues of blue and white. Together the colors flowed and mingled to create a single wondrous moment in time, not unlike the great ocean as it is always moving to shape the world. The scene had been painted with great passion, that much was clear. The image formed from the many colors seemed almost real in it's expression. The trio of subjects it was focused around were now right at the talons of it's carrier, who had come to a stop.
The night dragon placed the painting down to rest upon the edge of a large ring of twigs, cotton, and various other fragments of nature. Together they were woven to form a cozy nest for three small, sleeping beings. The dragon before them, their father, smiled warmly at them as though they were already hatched and running about. In the darkness the eggs seemed almost invisible to those without good night vision. Their smooth shells were grey-black, speckled with little white dots as if reflecting the sky. For now they lay very still as the new lives inside slowly grew their small forms.
A new set of talonsteps approached from the house towards the nest. It was another dragon, a female, with an unusual but beautiful combination of features. Her scales were a deep, dark blue that seemed to hint at calm, quiet places far underwater. From her elegant, diamond shaped head to her tail a series of spines the color of fresh snow ran down across her back. The membranes of her wings shared this striking shade; especially evident was a spattering of black spots along the white. The effect was resplendent, if unusual. Her eyes, a deep blue not unlike her scales, seemed to shine as they moved about to take in every interesting sight. She stopped beside the night dragon; her mate, Thoughtful.
The pair smiled at one another and briefly nuzzled. There was not a sound exchanged between them, but their love didn't need to be expressed in words. Together they settled in the cool air to watch over the nest and their precious children. The female, their mother, Whiteout, traced a claw around the painting she had created for them. It didn't merely depict the eggs in their nest, as one may have thought; rising above each egg were faint suggestions of the forms that would hatch from them. Whiteout's claw stopped briefly above one; her shining eyes became mournful. She spoke, in a dreamy way that whispered like a breeze through tree branches.
"The water sleeps now. But the sky will melt it away to the end."
Thoughtful, sensing the sadness in Whiteout's tone, twined his tail around hers in comfort. He didn't know what she might have seen; he didn't have her powers. It was something he'd come to learn about the extraordinary dragoness who was now his mate. She saw things, sometimes, not unlike her brother's powers of future sight. Through their time together Thoughtful and Whiteout had become linked, in a way, with a bond of sympathy. They expressed themselves through colorful artworks, melodic songs and elegant dance. It was almost as if they spoke a language known wholly to them at times when they didn't talk aloud. It was through their knowing of one another that Thoughtful discovered faint, but definite powers within Whiteout.
Now and then she would mention something in her mysterious way of wording, feelings interwoven with her speech hinting at what marvels and tragedies might be twirling inside her wonderful mind. At times it worried Thoughtful. It concerned him that these visions could scare her, or make her sad, but he couldn't see what troubled her so. The best he could do was offer comfort when she needed it. That was what he did now, his eyes resting for a moment upon the painted egg below Whiteout's claw. The eggs were safe with them now, as they had always been. But Thoughtful's brow creased in worry as he began to wonder if that could change.
Whiteout lifted her head from the painting and clasped one of Thoughtful's foretalons in her own. She leaned in, resting her head against his. Once again her serene voice wove into the night winds.
"Don't worry, the little lights won't go out. We will let them shine forever, won't we?"
A smile crept along Thoughtful's snout once more. Whiteout could always make him smile, no matter how much of a worry-wart he was.
"We will. The night is our friend; it won't take away our lights."
The pair rumbled faintly in contentment, for despite the horrors they'd been through, the kingdom and family they'd lost, here and now, together, they were home. Nothing in the world could take that from them.
The next day, as the dawn spread it's glorious hues of red and yellow across the land, two hidden dragons lay waiting. Both watched the quiet stone aerie with purpose and patience. To the left was a thinly muscled female, her scales rich shades of orange-yellow, not unlike the spreading sunrise. To the right was a stockier male with scales reminiscent of dark sand, speckled with faint brown across his head and wings. Now and then their tails twined together to calm one another as they waited.
The female raised her head slightly to peer at the distant nest. The eggs nestled within were without guard for the time being. She knew their mother would be back soon to fuss over them before she slept; now was the time.
"Let's go." whispered the slender female, her large wings unfurling as she crouched to launch into the sky.
Her partner followed behind as they took to the air. Swiftly the female approached the unguarded nest; the male hung back a distance and watched for disturbances. The female dropped onto the platform as silently as a feather and gave a cautious look around. She used her other senses; no recent scents. No sounds of talonsteps or voices. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the colorful decorations that lined the balcony; glass sculptures of many shapes and sizes, canvases with scenes unfurled in various pigments of the color blue. One of these paintings, a small one depicting three eggs, lay on the edge of the nest.
The dragoness shook her head briefly, her focus returning to the job at talon. Carefully, ever so carefully, she dipped her head down to the clutch of speckled black eggs and listened. Three sets of heartbeats thumped faintly in her ears. She raised a talon and delicately chose just one egg to lift up. Holding it closely to her chest she once more lifted into the air and hovered for a moment. With care she removed a dried fern from her satchel and used it to sweep away any marks left behind from her short appearance. Almost the second she'd tucked the fern back into her satchel she snapped her head up with a start. Talonsteps. Not too close, but certainly approaching her position. The brightly-colored dragoness turned and dove down from the edge of the aerie swiftly; lifting up from the platform would have created a gust and possibly alerted the approaching dragon to her presence.
The male that waited for her within the shadows moved to follow as soon as he witnessed her rapid descent and consequent lift. Within minutes they were far from the sunlit ledge, their wings pumping hard to propel them away as fast as possible. Sitting quietly upon that distant ledge with her tail curled around her remaining two eggs was the victim of their thieving. Though the thieves were long out of sight, her dark eyes stared in the direction they'd gone as if she could see them clearly. She murmured softly to herself in a dreamy way.
"Six legged stinger. Wanderings with sea and glass. Safe times..."
She dipped her head from the misty morning sky and slowly curled herself around her remaining pair of dormant children.
"Careful; if you drop that, we're as good as dead."
Her male compatriot replied slowly, "When it hatches... what will be done, Dunesweep? Given it's parentage it will probably look just like a nightwing."
"That is for the queen to decide," her reply was brusque, "If she wants to make full use of it's potential it'd be best not to keep it locked away. Although, she'll have a time explaining it's presence."
"Ugh, glad that's not part of our job. I'll be happy to be rid of this fragile nuisance." he looked down upon the dark oval cradled in his claws, snout wrinkled in disdain.
Dunesweep snorted at her mate's annoyance, "Oh hush, Gritclaw. That "Fragile nuisance" will be setting us up quite well indeed with the queen. Animus blood within our tribe can be useful. Jerboa was proof of that, until she defected and ran off to who-knows-where."
"Are you sure about that? Wouldn't animus blood be a bit risky after, oh, I don't know," he paused in his sarcasm before whispering rather loudly, "an insane animus drove away his entire tribe after trying to kill and control them with his powers?!"
Gritclaw winced as Dunesweep hit him sharply with her wing and hissed, "Shhh! We aren't home free yet, idiot. Save your ranting for when we get back. Anyways, of course if any animus dragons are produced through this... project, they won't be allowed to use their powers much, if at all." she sighed, "We got lucky with Jerboa, but now that she's gone we'll need to be careful with any new animus dragons."
"Then what's the mudding point of all this?" Gritclaw asked with exasperation, straining to keep his voice low per his mate's chagrin.
"Simply possessing animus blood within a tribe gives it greater power." Dunesweep replied matter-of-factly, "In these uncertain times an animus dragon can be used as a warning to other tribes... if they tried to attack us, we'd turn the animus loose on them and they'd be goners. After the Seawing Massacre and what happened to the Nightwings nobody would dare try to fight a tribe that holds an animus."
Once more, Gritclaw glanced down at the small, yet significant thing he held as he flew, "A shield against war... or a devastating weapon if one occurs. Clever. Still, it's mother didn't possess the powers of... him. It's unlikely it will be an animus itself."
"That might be a better outcome for us," Dunesweep nodded. "We need to lie low with all the recent turmoil; a new animus would be a little more than unhealthy for our political position. Although we'd have a great weapon, it isn't wise to have all other tribes turn against us right now. We must keep our allies. Once things have died down, an animus in the later generations would be of more benefit."
Gritclaw shook his head with a grumble, "So, even if we succeed in our mission it probably won't bear fruit until after we're dead."
There was a pause as they came to their resting spot, a small, dusty cave hidden within a rocky crag. Dunesweep hovered for a moment to scan for threats. After a minute of silence she gave a nod to confirm their safety and they glided down to land.
The pair squeezed through the narrow entry carefully, making sure to handle their quarry delicately. Gritclaw passed the egg to his mate, who was to keep it for her first watch shift. They had agreed prior that whoever was on watch would hold the egg; this way, if they were surprised, it would be easier for them to escape rather than the one asleep, who would be momentarily vulnerable as they woke.
As he settled down to sleep, Gritclaw gave a sigh. A flash of worry crossed his face as he glanced at the starless dark outside. "I hope this is worth it."
Dunesweep turned and nudged him reassuringly, for a moment dropping her gruff exterior and letting affection shine through. "We'll be fine; The queen chose us for a reason. We are, after all, two of her best spies."
Gritclaw's worried frown dissipated for a moment. A wry grin crossed his snout as old memories glinted in his dark eyes, "I don't know Dunesweep, wasn't it your fault Queen Carmine discovered that we were actually working against her?"
A huff issued from the dragoness as she turned away and swatted him with her tail. "As I recall, it was your clumsy Sandwing talonsteps that alerted her guard."
Her mate feigned confusion, tapping his chin with a claw and retorting, "Hmm, I don't know, I seem to remember a Skywing that tripped on her oversized wing and tumbled through a bunch of noisy gold coins."
Dunesweep rolled her eyes with a smile, bending down to nuzzle her mate, "That may be so... but despite that short-sighted dragon alerting the others we still got her. In all the commotion nobody saw the little snake that bit "her majesty" until it was too late."
A low rumble issued from their throats as they took a moment to be at peace before resuming their dire objectives.
"I'm sorry about getting you exiled..." whispered Gritclaw as he lowered his head and began drifting off to sleep.
His mate lifted her head from his and turned back to her vigil, sitting straight and alert for danger. She kept the precious egg close and curled in one of her foretalons. She replied quietly, "Don't worry... I never liked the Sky kingdom much anyway. Too stuffy."
Dunesweep heard a soft chuckle issue from behind her, followed shortly by deep, slow breathing indicative of a sleeping dragon. With a quiet sigh, she gazed across the dawning horizon and thought of the journey to come.
That's the end of part 1 of the prologue! I split it partially due to length and partially so I can get some feedback on this first taster chapter and see what you all think. If you feel inclined, leave a review with any comments and/or criticisms. This is the first writing of mine in a while and I'd like to know how it turned out to start with. I've yet to set an upload schedule, but the next part of the prologue will probably be up a week from now.