Chapter Two: The Winged One
A beautiful day, he thought, as a claw reached out, catching a piece of cloud. The Platinum Dragon must be happy. He watched as the captive fluff broke away from his talons, drifting off lazily on a breeze. The dragon's thoughts began to wander off into more interesting categories, before they were cut off abruptly by the gurgle deep in his stomach.
He was hungry, all of a sudden, but it didn't surprise him. Every evening at a specific hour, his stomach would growl demanding sustenance. On more than one occasion, his siblings would quote, "Antares' stomach is better than any sundial...it works during storms!" The very thought of his siblings made him smile, but also a small amount of sadness crept into his mind. He had been away from the nest for an entire year now. At only a century, he was still considered young amongst the dragon kind. His own sire had been well over 600 when Antares had hatched.
Shaking his great head to clear himself of the memories, Antares folded his wings tightly against his back, and began his swift descent. Wind whipped past him, playing with his tail. The large creature erupted from the bottom of the lowest cloudbank, flicking a wingtip to send him into a slow twirl. Anyone watching nearby would have thought him suicidal, or unconscious, by the way he was headed in a straight vertical fall. The ground rushed up at him, trees that were before just splotches becoming quickly defined.
At less than twenty meters away from a painful death, his massive wings unfurled, and the air filled them with a loud whoosh. He arched his long neck and back, bringing himself parallel to the ground. The air was thick with the smell of wild roaming herd creatures, which delighted his extremely keen senses. From his place soaring over the clearing, he saw a cluster of at least thirty sheep grazing grass. As he neared, however, they took notice of him and broke away, bleating in fear.
He skimmed over them, choosing the ones he'd most enjoy. A large, plump ewe was running away from his left, and he turned with a deft twist of his body. He followed her leisurely for a few moments, before reaching down and scooping her up in one claw. He carried the creature to a hillcrest close by, and landed with his three free limbs. Settling down on his back haunches, he mercifully broke the sheep's neck before beginning to devour her. The chrome dragons, he knew, would have simply eaten it alive, to relish in the terror and pain.
***
Ten minutes later, the young leviathan was digging fleece out from between his fangs with a talon, as he lounged in the evening sunshine. With a full belly and a warm breeze, Antares couldn't help but lower his head to the soft, lush grass, and close his eyes. The soft bleats of the now calmer sheep lulled him into a doze.
A mist began to seep through his thoughts, bringing with it the promise of a dream. Just as the images were beginning to form, a rustle in the grass brought him back with a jolt, alarms screaming in his head. His eyes snapped open, cat-like pupils shrinking to wicked slits, startling the creature that stood beside his head.
The first thing that ran through his head was the fact that the creature, a human, was holding a bladed weapon at him, smelling of hostility. The next, the small crowd of humans behind the leader, all with the same drawn weapons. He stood instantly, rearing back his head, a growl issuing from deep in his throat. Heat began to flare in his chest, and the warm tingly sensation traveled up his long, sinuous neck, until flames licked across his bared fangs threateningly. Besides this display, he also sent out a wave of his race's speciality.
Dragonfear wasn't something to take lightly. It could tear even the mightiest of men to their knees, quaking and gasping in fright. Heck, even kender, known for their lack of fear, would cower if the dragonfear was strong enough. The humans who surrounded Antares backed up quickly, eyes widened. The very sight of the copper dragon coming to full alertness was enough for the humans. The leader fell to one knee, head bowed. He tossed aside his weapon.
"My humblest apologies, you are a metallic dragon!" He said loud enough for Antares to hear. Antares lowered his head by snaking his neck down, until it was level with that of the human's. "And what else would I be?" He asked in his powerful baritone, not even blinking as he lessened the dragonfear. The man shook his head, his gaze still on the ground in his apologetic bow. "We've had some trouble with a red dragon these past few months. We received word from a scout that a dragon, possibly a red, was seen nearby."
"A red? You mistake me for a red?" He asked incredulously, raising a claw to look at it. True enough, the setting sun gave his fiery copper scales a slightly reddish hue as he shifted it. From far away, one might as well have pictured him as a red. He shook his head. "It's understandable-- ?" The sentence trailed off, prompting the man to introduce himself.
"I am Terrin, I'm the leader of the village a few hills over." Antares looked him and his ragtag hunting group over. The young dragon snorted his acknowledgement, before lowering his body. "Well rest assured I've no reason to terrorize your village, Terrin." His tone was sincere enough, so Terrin stood, and the group behind him relaxed. The human dipped his head and apologized once more for disturbing his sleep, and then they turned to take their leave. A thought flickered through Antares' mind.
"Oh, Terrin." He spoke up, causing the man to stop, and turn back around. "If you believed me a red, what made you think that a group of a dozen humans could possibly take me down?" The group leader gained a slight grin on his bearded face. "If you really had been the red, you would have passed right over the wild sheep, and set about collecting your tithes of meat and treasure from our village." The copper froze, thinking this over for a moment, before his nodded. "Ah. Sensible, Terrin, sensible." He shifted his body so that his wings could spread and collect the last dregs of sunlight, when Terrin once again interrupted his thoughts.
"This red, she is quite territorial, especially when it comes to metallics. I'd be wary if I were you." With that said, he turned on his heel and walked back over to his group, ordering them back to the village. Antares kept his gaze on their retreating forms, but his mind wandered. All through his hatchling years, his father had warned him and his siblings about the chrome dragons. It had been a red, in fact, who had taken the life of their mother, shortly after she had clutched their eggs.
He absolved to visit this village, and check out how they lived, their conditions under the rule of the ruthless red dragon. But, he reminded himself, this chrome dragon would notice a large copper near the village in an instant. A smile, the best that a dragon could manage, spread across his muzzle. He looked down, at his front left claw. A ring, big enough to be a large man's belt, was fastened snugly around his middle talon. Set in the shiny gold was a finely cut sapphire stone, the size of a man's fist, with an odd vein of silver swirling through it. He blinked, and felt the warm spark of magic flow through him, originating from the now glowing blue stone. His body, ring and all, shrank, before the actual change began.
His wings got sucked into his back, as did his long tail. He reared back onto his back legs, which thinned, the bones cracking into an upright position. His whole body was a series of sickening cracks and squishes, though he felt no real pain. The oddest feeling of all was when the many vertebrae in his long neck compacted together, bringing his head down to his shoulders. His talons shrunk and lost their black luster, turning into normal nails, and his eyes gained a silver blue tint, his pupils rounded out. The scales adorning his body seemed to melt together, becoming soft, tanned skin. The long, ivory horns that jutted out of his head burst into individual strands of short hair, darkening to the copper his scales had once been. He now stood as a tall, lean but muscular human man.
As soon as the physical transformation had finished, silver tendrils erupted from the ring, slithering up his arm and spreading over his entire body. Seconds later they gained texture and color, becoming clothes. A black leather gauntlet wrapped around one forearm, with a single row of tiny silver spines running along one side. A white tunic with silver trim, tied off with a wide black belt, covered his torso, while slightly baggy midnight blue pants were tucked into black, fur-lined boots. He smiled again, this time with more success, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. He had only been in this form a few times before, and was making the transformation quicker each time.
After stretching his long legs and taking a deep breath, he set off in the direction the humans had gone.
***
The village was modest at best, but by no means small. No one wore rich silks or carried extravagant accessories, but no one was in rags, either. The first thing that he saw upon entering the village was the small cluster of burned down buildings to his right. A small group of people were already halfway through building a new one overtop of the rubble. Even with the muffled senses of a human, he could still tell by the acidic smell of charred wood that hung in the air that they had been burned within the last few days.
Antares set out immediately in search for the closest tavern. Only a year out of the nest and he'd already learned that this was the best place to find information. After only about five minutes of wandering, he came to a stop outside The Soaring Dragon. He couldn't help but chuckle at the crudely carved sign that hung over the door, with a dragon, silhouetted by the full moon. By the formation of the horns, he could tell it was a gold dragon. Shaking his head, he walked inside.
As it was evening, the tavern was filled with the boisterous singing of the already drunk patrons, who were trying in vain to keep tune with the minstrel who played his lute in the corner. Antares made his way to the bar counter, clearing his throat to gain the bartender's attention. The burly man turned from his chore of scrubbing a pewter mug, and cast a questioning glance his way.
"Ale, please." Antares said, loud enough to be heard over the horrible singing. The bartender nodded his reply, and went to the large wooden kegs, to fill up a mug. He came back a moment later, and exchanged the beverage for a coin that Antares had fished out of his pocket. Taking the mug, he began a long journey, filled with dangerous obstacles such as chair legs, barmaids and drink spills, to a free seat near the back of the tavern.
Sitting down, he raised the mug to his lips, only to freeze with an inch of space. His gaze changed from the crowd to his drink, and he stared at the mug dubiously for a few seconds, before rubbing the rim off vigorously with his sleeve. That done, he downed a mouthful, almost instantly regretting it. His nose crinkled, and his eyes squeezed shut, as the fermented liquid burned its way down his throat, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste.
"I know it ain't much, but what do ya expect when that red bitch takes away our money? We can't exactly afford the good stuff." Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at an apron. His gaze traveled up the apron, all the way to the face attached to the body that was attached to the apron. It was a barmaid, a woman too young to be called old, yet too old to be called young. Her blond hair was tied up in a bun, away from a face that was creased in a wry grin. She placed a hand on the tabletop, and leaned over, so that they could talk better.
"Can I get you anything else, some food perhaps?" Thinking back on the unfortunate ewe, he shook his head with a smile. "No thank you. But, I would like some information, if it's not too much to ask." The woman, intrigued, sat down in the chair opposite him, still grinning. She introduced herself as Jolie. "What kind of information are you looking for?" She asked, trailing her long nails across the lacquered wood of the table. Antares shrugged, then leaned closer. "This red, ahem, bitch, as you so fondly call her." Jolie's eyes narrowed for a moment, before her smile was replaced by a slightly sadder expression.
"A bane on us all, she's been. Calls herself Volk. Short for Volcanica. I mean, is it just me, or are dragons a bit too cliché?" Antares, himself named after a blazing, copper colored star, cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Yes, indeed. Please, go on." Jolie nodded, then sighed. "Anyway, every week, she comes by and terrifies the livestock, before collecting a tithe of meat and treasure." Antares thought back on what Terrin had said, and found himself loathing this red even more. The barmaid's voice brought him back to reality. "If we don't have anything she finds worthy enough, she goes and burns down three buildings, regardless of whoever may be inside of it. Every week we pray that a dragon knight comes and rips out her throat with a dragon lance, but each week, to no avail."
Just as Antares was about to ask another question, the bartender called out to Jolie in a gruff voice. Her cheeks turning red, the woman turned back to Antares. "Sorry, Hon, but duty calls." She gave him a little finger-waggle wave, before getting up and heading over to the counter. The dragon in disguise leaned back in his chair, forcing down another mouthful of the drink. His eyes became locked on the tabletop, his thoughts glued on the dragon. He saw the burned homes, he saw how these people were poor and taxed, both in pockets and minds. A new objective popped into his brain; to put a stop to the red dragon, Volk's, reign of tyranny.
He finished off the drink and was about to stand, when there was a shout that was heard easily above the rest of the noise in the building. This voice was clearly angered, and was answered by another, slightly higher, yet equally as angry voice. The rest of the voices became quiet, and the argument could be heard more clearly.
"You cheated, scum!"
"I didn't cheat, you're just a horrible player."
"I want my money back!"
Through a gap in the people, Antares could see a hand reach out and grab a furred arm forcefully. The creature attached to the arm froze, and broke the deafening silence.
"Human, you'll release me, now."
The voice was beyond cold, and seemed to get the creature's point across. The hand let go, and the next sound that came to Antare's ears was the door opening, and closing. Then, and angry growl, and five people stood, opening and slamming the door shut closely behind. Something nudged at the back of his brain that there was going to be trouble. Standing, he made his way agilely through the crowd and out onto the street. As the door closed, he heard the patrons erupt into off-key song as if nothing had happened.
He looked around for a moment, before seeing the six follow the shadowed form into a less populated street.
***
AHHHH!!!!! dun dun duuuuuuuhhhh!!! Yeah, I'll give you three guesses as to who the furred arm belongs to! Heehee don't worry, the next chapter will be where our two heroes meet.
A beautiful day, he thought, as a claw reached out, catching a piece of cloud. The Platinum Dragon must be happy. He watched as the captive fluff broke away from his talons, drifting off lazily on a breeze. The dragon's thoughts began to wander off into more interesting categories, before they were cut off abruptly by the gurgle deep in his stomach.
He was hungry, all of a sudden, but it didn't surprise him. Every evening at a specific hour, his stomach would growl demanding sustenance. On more than one occasion, his siblings would quote, "Antares' stomach is better than any sundial...it works during storms!" The very thought of his siblings made him smile, but also a small amount of sadness crept into his mind. He had been away from the nest for an entire year now. At only a century, he was still considered young amongst the dragon kind. His own sire had been well over 600 when Antares had hatched.
Shaking his great head to clear himself of the memories, Antares folded his wings tightly against his back, and began his swift descent. Wind whipped past him, playing with his tail. The large creature erupted from the bottom of the lowest cloudbank, flicking a wingtip to send him into a slow twirl. Anyone watching nearby would have thought him suicidal, or unconscious, by the way he was headed in a straight vertical fall. The ground rushed up at him, trees that were before just splotches becoming quickly defined.
At less than twenty meters away from a painful death, his massive wings unfurled, and the air filled them with a loud whoosh. He arched his long neck and back, bringing himself parallel to the ground. The air was thick with the smell of wild roaming herd creatures, which delighted his extremely keen senses. From his place soaring over the clearing, he saw a cluster of at least thirty sheep grazing grass. As he neared, however, they took notice of him and broke away, bleating in fear.
He skimmed over them, choosing the ones he'd most enjoy. A large, plump ewe was running away from his left, and he turned with a deft twist of his body. He followed her leisurely for a few moments, before reaching down and scooping her up in one claw. He carried the creature to a hillcrest close by, and landed with his three free limbs. Settling down on his back haunches, he mercifully broke the sheep's neck before beginning to devour her. The chrome dragons, he knew, would have simply eaten it alive, to relish in the terror and pain.
***
Ten minutes later, the young leviathan was digging fleece out from between his fangs with a talon, as he lounged in the evening sunshine. With a full belly and a warm breeze, Antares couldn't help but lower his head to the soft, lush grass, and close his eyes. The soft bleats of the now calmer sheep lulled him into a doze.
A mist began to seep through his thoughts, bringing with it the promise of a dream. Just as the images were beginning to form, a rustle in the grass brought him back with a jolt, alarms screaming in his head. His eyes snapped open, cat-like pupils shrinking to wicked slits, startling the creature that stood beside his head.
The first thing that ran through his head was the fact that the creature, a human, was holding a bladed weapon at him, smelling of hostility. The next, the small crowd of humans behind the leader, all with the same drawn weapons. He stood instantly, rearing back his head, a growl issuing from deep in his throat. Heat began to flare in his chest, and the warm tingly sensation traveled up his long, sinuous neck, until flames licked across his bared fangs threateningly. Besides this display, he also sent out a wave of his race's speciality.
Dragonfear wasn't something to take lightly. It could tear even the mightiest of men to their knees, quaking and gasping in fright. Heck, even kender, known for their lack of fear, would cower if the dragonfear was strong enough. The humans who surrounded Antares backed up quickly, eyes widened. The very sight of the copper dragon coming to full alertness was enough for the humans. The leader fell to one knee, head bowed. He tossed aside his weapon.
"My humblest apologies, you are a metallic dragon!" He said loud enough for Antares to hear. Antares lowered his head by snaking his neck down, until it was level with that of the human's. "And what else would I be?" He asked in his powerful baritone, not even blinking as he lessened the dragonfear. The man shook his head, his gaze still on the ground in his apologetic bow. "We've had some trouble with a red dragon these past few months. We received word from a scout that a dragon, possibly a red, was seen nearby."
"A red? You mistake me for a red?" He asked incredulously, raising a claw to look at it. True enough, the setting sun gave his fiery copper scales a slightly reddish hue as he shifted it. From far away, one might as well have pictured him as a red. He shook his head. "It's understandable-- ?" The sentence trailed off, prompting the man to introduce himself.
"I am Terrin, I'm the leader of the village a few hills over." Antares looked him and his ragtag hunting group over. The young dragon snorted his acknowledgement, before lowering his body. "Well rest assured I've no reason to terrorize your village, Terrin." His tone was sincere enough, so Terrin stood, and the group behind him relaxed. The human dipped his head and apologized once more for disturbing his sleep, and then they turned to take their leave. A thought flickered through Antares' mind.
"Oh, Terrin." He spoke up, causing the man to stop, and turn back around. "If you believed me a red, what made you think that a group of a dozen humans could possibly take me down?" The group leader gained a slight grin on his bearded face. "If you really had been the red, you would have passed right over the wild sheep, and set about collecting your tithes of meat and treasure from our village." The copper froze, thinking this over for a moment, before his nodded. "Ah. Sensible, Terrin, sensible." He shifted his body so that his wings could spread and collect the last dregs of sunlight, when Terrin once again interrupted his thoughts.
"This red, she is quite territorial, especially when it comes to metallics. I'd be wary if I were you." With that said, he turned on his heel and walked back over to his group, ordering them back to the village. Antares kept his gaze on their retreating forms, but his mind wandered. All through his hatchling years, his father had warned him and his siblings about the chrome dragons. It had been a red, in fact, who had taken the life of their mother, shortly after she had clutched their eggs.
He absolved to visit this village, and check out how they lived, their conditions under the rule of the ruthless red dragon. But, he reminded himself, this chrome dragon would notice a large copper near the village in an instant. A smile, the best that a dragon could manage, spread across his muzzle. He looked down, at his front left claw. A ring, big enough to be a large man's belt, was fastened snugly around his middle talon. Set in the shiny gold was a finely cut sapphire stone, the size of a man's fist, with an odd vein of silver swirling through it. He blinked, and felt the warm spark of magic flow through him, originating from the now glowing blue stone. His body, ring and all, shrank, before the actual change began.
His wings got sucked into his back, as did his long tail. He reared back onto his back legs, which thinned, the bones cracking into an upright position. His whole body was a series of sickening cracks and squishes, though he felt no real pain. The oddest feeling of all was when the many vertebrae in his long neck compacted together, bringing his head down to his shoulders. His talons shrunk and lost their black luster, turning into normal nails, and his eyes gained a silver blue tint, his pupils rounded out. The scales adorning his body seemed to melt together, becoming soft, tanned skin. The long, ivory horns that jutted out of his head burst into individual strands of short hair, darkening to the copper his scales had once been. He now stood as a tall, lean but muscular human man.
As soon as the physical transformation had finished, silver tendrils erupted from the ring, slithering up his arm and spreading over his entire body. Seconds later they gained texture and color, becoming clothes. A black leather gauntlet wrapped around one forearm, with a single row of tiny silver spines running along one side. A white tunic with silver trim, tied off with a wide black belt, covered his torso, while slightly baggy midnight blue pants were tucked into black, fur-lined boots. He smiled again, this time with more success, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. He had only been in this form a few times before, and was making the transformation quicker each time.
After stretching his long legs and taking a deep breath, he set off in the direction the humans had gone.
***
The village was modest at best, but by no means small. No one wore rich silks or carried extravagant accessories, but no one was in rags, either. The first thing that he saw upon entering the village was the small cluster of burned down buildings to his right. A small group of people were already halfway through building a new one overtop of the rubble. Even with the muffled senses of a human, he could still tell by the acidic smell of charred wood that hung in the air that they had been burned within the last few days.
Antares set out immediately in search for the closest tavern. Only a year out of the nest and he'd already learned that this was the best place to find information. After only about five minutes of wandering, he came to a stop outside The Soaring Dragon. He couldn't help but chuckle at the crudely carved sign that hung over the door, with a dragon, silhouetted by the full moon. By the formation of the horns, he could tell it was a gold dragon. Shaking his head, he walked inside.
As it was evening, the tavern was filled with the boisterous singing of the already drunk patrons, who were trying in vain to keep tune with the minstrel who played his lute in the corner. Antares made his way to the bar counter, clearing his throat to gain the bartender's attention. The burly man turned from his chore of scrubbing a pewter mug, and cast a questioning glance his way.
"Ale, please." Antares said, loud enough to be heard over the horrible singing. The bartender nodded his reply, and went to the large wooden kegs, to fill up a mug. He came back a moment later, and exchanged the beverage for a coin that Antares had fished out of his pocket. Taking the mug, he began a long journey, filled with dangerous obstacles such as chair legs, barmaids and drink spills, to a free seat near the back of the tavern.
Sitting down, he raised the mug to his lips, only to freeze with an inch of space. His gaze changed from the crowd to his drink, and he stared at the mug dubiously for a few seconds, before rubbing the rim off vigorously with his sleeve. That done, he downed a mouthful, almost instantly regretting it. His nose crinkled, and his eyes squeezed shut, as the fermented liquid burned its way down his throat, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste.
"I know it ain't much, but what do ya expect when that red bitch takes away our money? We can't exactly afford the good stuff." Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at an apron. His gaze traveled up the apron, all the way to the face attached to the body that was attached to the apron. It was a barmaid, a woman too young to be called old, yet too old to be called young. Her blond hair was tied up in a bun, away from a face that was creased in a wry grin. She placed a hand on the tabletop, and leaned over, so that they could talk better.
"Can I get you anything else, some food perhaps?" Thinking back on the unfortunate ewe, he shook his head with a smile. "No thank you. But, I would like some information, if it's not too much to ask." The woman, intrigued, sat down in the chair opposite him, still grinning. She introduced herself as Jolie. "What kind of information are you looking for?" She asked, trailing her long nails across the lacquered wood of the table. Antares shrugged, then leaned closer. "This red, ahem, bitch, as you so fondly call her." Jolie's eyes narrowed for a moment, before her smile was replaced by a slightly sadder expression.
"A bane on us all, she's been. Calls herself Volk. Short for Volcanica. I mean, is it just me, or are dragons a bit too cliché?" Antares, himself named after a blazing, copper colored star, cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Yes, indeed. Please, go on." Jolie nodded, then sighed. "Anyway, every week, she comes by and terrifies the livestock, before collecting a tithe of meat and treasure." Antares thought back on what Terrin had said, and found himself loathing this red even more. The barmaid's voice brought him back to reality. "If we don't have anything she finds worthy enough, she goes and burns down three buildings, regardless of whoever may be inside of it. Every week we pray that a dragon knight comes and rips out her throat with a dragon lance, but each week, to no avail."
Just as Antares was about to ask another question, the bartender called out to Jolie in a gruff voice. Her cheeks turning red, the woman turned back to Antares. "Sorry, Hon, but duty calls." She gave him a little finger-waggle wave, before getting up and heading over to the counter. The dragon in disguise leaned back in his chair, forcing down another mouthful of the drink. His eyes became locked on the tabletop, his thoughts glued on the dragon. He saw the burned homes, he saw how these people were poor and taxed, both in pockets and minds. A new objective popped into his brain; to put a stop to the red dragon, Volk's, reign of tyranny.
He finished off the drink and was about to stand, when there was a shout that was heard easily above the rest of the noise in the building. This voice was clearly angered, and was answered by another, slightly higher, yet equally as angry voice. The rest of the voices became quiet, and the argument could be heard more clearly.
"You cheated, scum!"
"I didn't cheat, you're just a horrible player."
"I want my money back!"
Through a gap in the people, Antares could see a hand reach out and grab a furred arm forcefully. The creature attached to the arm froze, and broke the deafening silence.
"Human, you'll release me, now."
The voice was beyond cold, and seemed to get the creature's point across. The hand let go, and the next sound that came to Antare's ears was the door opening, and closing. Then, and angry growl, and five people stood, opening and slamming the door shut closely behind. Something nudged at the back of his brain that there was going to be trouble. Standing, he made his way agilely through the crowd and out onto the street. As the door closed, he heard the patrons erupt into off-key song as if nothing had happened.
He looked around for a moment, before seeing the six follow the shadowed form into a less populated street.
***
AHHHH!!!!! dun dun duuuuuuuhhhh!!! Yeah, I'll give you three guesses as to who the furred arm belongs to! Heehee don't worry, the next chapter will be where our two heroes meet.