Chapter 1. The Voyage.
Stories are bound together by threads made from lives of each person involved. The threads are intertwined and wound around the tale. As all storytellers know, the beginning of a story makes a big difference to the end. This story starts here, in a temperate valley nestled between two lofty mountains, high above the Southern Viking Seas. Where it ends is yet to be decided.
Two mountains rise high above the ocean, snow covered peaks sheltering the steep slopes below. The island they form has a skirt of sheer cliffs and several waterfalls. From the southern side of the island a broad, flat bottomed valley is visible, likely carved by an ancient glacier. It sits between the two mountains, with forests of pine and fir on its upper reaches and a meandering river sparkling through the green, lush base. We move in to the valley, focusing on signs of human occupation. We pass over the docks, which are a steep walk down sturdy and wide steps to a well-kept road leading past store houses and some farms, up to a cluster of huts arranged around the main hall. All immaculately kept. People are calmly going about their business.
There are dragons here. An orchard with fly hoppers playing nearby, a larger dragon helping move a cart from a ditch and two more playing above the mountain tops. Move in on the main hall, with two storeys. A spacious balcony above the imposing front door. Into the bedroom where we see an open trunk almost filled with clothing, a few scattered items remain on the big bed, being considered by the owner of the room. Tall, strong and red haired, a single braid running down her back. Clad in green travelling clothes, tunic and trousers with soft boots to her calf. She places the final few things inside and tries to close the lid. Using some force, it shuts. She picks up a brown leather satchel with a red clasp and wears it over her shoulder. She sighs and looks around the room, touching a portrait of a younger family (Grandparents, Father and Younger Fjalla each cradling a swaddled baby in), slowly walking out to fondly take in the view from the balcony. Looking down, she lifts herself from reflection and turns back to call:
"Have you packed yet, kids?"
A red-headed boy of around 5 years old runs past the open door giggling and wearing skirts on his head. His similarly red-headed twin sister chases after, yelling "Dak! Give them back! Mum, make him stop!"
Fjalla smiles, and moves to help them both.
"Come on now, you two. You're going to have to get along on board the ship. There won't be space to be this mischievous."
"Exactly Mum, that's why I have to get it all in now!" Dak replies.
"Tell us more about the boat, please Mum" Pleads Leyla. "Will it be hard to sleep?"
"Oh, no. After a day of fresh sea air, you two will sleep more soundly than ever before, and the waves will rock you to sleep like a giant cradle."
Leyla lets out a big sigh. "Oh, I'm so looking forward to it. It will be a really big adventure!"
"Yeah, it's going to be AWESOME!" Dak bursts out, jumping into the air.
Dak looks incredibly bored. Slouched on the rail of the ship, staring at nothing. "This is so totally NOT awesome." He complains.
"Come on, Dak. Cheer up. We're just waiting for the wind to pick up." Dak's mother comes to lean next to him. "Why don't you practice your letters with Leyla?" In the background, we see Leyla poring over a note book propped up by her mother's satchel, scratching notes with a quill on some paper next to it.
"Aw, Mum, I thought the trip was going to be exciting. How long are we going to be stuck here?"
"Just as soon as the weather changes, then we can get going again."
"Well I hope it changes a lot, really quickly!"
Dak's face, squinting in the dark as rain and wind lash across the deck. "This isn't what I meant!" He yells, clinging to the mast. The ship climbs up huge waves and slides down the other side, lightning flashes. Leyla peeks out from behind the big trunk, clutching the brown leather satchel around her neck.
"Dragon ho!" Calls the lookout, through the teeth of the storm.
Fjalla grasps the rail, peering out over the swell. A flash of black dragon hide, spattered with coral and seaweed, rolls past between two wave peaks.
Horrified, she staggers back. "A Leviathorgen! Captain, we must turn about, NOW!"
The captain is pulling at the wheel hard, wrestling with the boat. "I'm trying, It's pulling us along in it's wake!"
"At least that means it isn't attacking!" Yells Fjalla. She grabs the children and opens the trunk, flinging the contents out. "Climb in, now. This trunk is made from dragonwood, it's strong enough to keep you safe, come what may."
"I'm going to try and…" The captain's voice is cut short as the dragons tail lazily swipes the prow. Cut to black.
Fjalla floats motionless beneath the waves. Leyla stares, head submerged as Dak is pulling her desperately back into the trunk, now floating by itself, the ship nowhere to be seen. She fights to leap into the water but he holds her, gripping the trunk's edge with his other hand.
Cut to black.
The trunk floats on a calm, flat ocean, lid open. The twins slump inside it lifelessly, unmoving, Dak holding Leyla from behind.
A dragon shadow passes over the trunk. Silence again.
A sudden swooping and powerful, blue legs and claws grasp the chest, plucking it from the water and up into the sky.
Leyla wakes up in a shaded glade. Dak lies sleeping beside her, on a mossy surface.
"Dak, Dak, wake up!" Leyla shakes him.
"What, what? I'm awake." Dak groggily opens his eyes and focuses on her. He sits bolt upright. "The ship! Where are we?" Looking around, he sees… "A dragon!"
A small blue dragonling is curled timidly at the edge of the clearing. He roars disconsolately.
Chapter 2. Winger's Story.
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