avwedhorn
New Member
Chapter 1
‘In service to all.’
The golden words had flashed across the face of the redstone medallion his father had always called the Dragon’s eye. Micah had stared at them incredulously. Never had it done anything like that before.
Sitting alone at the table, he delved into his past, trying to remember the old stories his father had told him about the stone and why he always wore it. When he had been twelve, a long time ago, in their shoddy little trailer just outside of Chicago, his father had told him that they were men of the blood. That he was a Man of the Blood. That they served as the protectors of a land called Illanor and that possibly, someday, he could be called to fulfill his duty. Although, according to his father, none had in several generations.
Micah remembered laughing at his father’s fanciful stories about the Dragonworld. He had also searched a world atlas from top to bottom and hadn’t found any land or city called Illanor.
Hard lines creased his forehead as he stared at the medallion. He had laughed when he had been twelve. Now, twenty six years later, he wasn’t laughing.
When he turned eighteen, he had sworn to his father to always wear the medallion, but had stopped after his father had died. Until today, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the silly thing.
Now, warily staring at the golden medallion with its redstone as if it were a viper that had tried biting him, he wondered if it already had. Turning, he looked at the box. A bitter laugh parted his lips. Maryinn, his ex wife, must have put it in there. Shaking his head he remembered, she hadn’t believed his father’s stories either.
The box had been warm. He had felt the heat. And not wanting a fire in his new, shabby efficiency, which was all he could afford on what was left of his police severance, he had opened it.
The Dragon’s eye had filled the bottom. He hadn’t seen it since his father had died twenty years ago, but then it hadn’t been glowing with spidery words of gold. Not thinking, he had reached out.
The words, ‘In service to all’, had filled his head, as if coming from everywhere, sounding as if they came from a hundred different throats all speaking at once. Images had come after. Images of teeth, armor, a massive battle, and flying high in the sky had crashed into his head. Wind had filled his ears and he had felt the hilt of a sword filling his hand. The sensation of flying stole away everything else and he had thought he had heard the roar of a giant beast. Then it was gone. For a brief moment it seemed as if he had been somewhere else, doing something he remembered doing before.
Using a pencil, he had picked up the medallion and placed it on the table. It wasn’t glowing now. To Micah’s eyes it looked perfectly ordinary, just a bit of odd redstone surrounded by gold.
Looking out his small greasy window he saw snow. I’m still in Chicago. Did I imagine it? Must be the divorce, or lack of sleep. Turning his thoughts inward he tried dredging up more memories from his father about the medallion.
Nothing that mentioned glowing came to him. But he did have several about duty to one’s people and having to be there to protect them. According to his father, every time the medallion had been passed on to its next wearer, the one before had died, as the story went, ‘In service to all’.
Tentatively, Micah reached out and flicked the medallion with his fingernail. Nothing happened. Cautiously he reached out and flicked the stone and jerked his hand back as if stung. Nothing happened.
The jerk, he realized was reflexive adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was no pulse of warmth, no flickering letters, no sense of flying. The amulet just lay there. Feeling silly, Micah reached out and traced the top of the cold stone with his fingertips.
Nothing. Taking a chance, he rested his palm on it.
Looking at his hand, Micah decided, I must have dozed off. He didn’t remember falling asleep, though for a few moments his mind had seemed murky. In his head, he saw same the spidery words of gold form again. Not thinking, palm still on the stone he mumbled the saying he had learned from his father who had learned it from his. “In service to all.”
White light exploded in his head as the golden words faded and the dragon’s eye began pulsing with a strong steady rhythm. It took him a moment before he realized that the cold stone now felt like a beating heart throbbing under his hand. Swirling colors of light shot up out of the medallion and wrapped about his body like a glowing blanket. Completely covered in the glowing nimbus from head to toe, Micah felt the pressure of the light on his skin, like a calm caress.
Suddenly it changed. It was like a thousand hands grabbed him all at once. Fear seized him by the throat and desperately he tried to remove his hand but found he couldn’t. All he could do was watch in fascinated horror as the dragon’s eye grew infinitely larger and the light around him grew brighter. The redstone filling his vision changed. Everything became indistinct, and faded into gray.
With a jerk Micah ripped his hand free from of the medallion, and groaned. It didn’t look a stone anymore anyway. Instead it looked like an eye, a large eye at least the size of his head. Unable to move, Micah saw it rotate in a wide circle. A large black pupil slowly came into view. Then it blinked.
Micah threw himself backwards. He knew he should have crashed head over heels over the top of his couch, but it wasn’t there. In fact nothing was there and he landed hard on his back. Scampering crab-like across bare stone, he kept moving until his head hit a stone wall. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Micah found himself shaking his head, trying to remove the swirling images.
The stars faded but the image didn’t. “What in the hell…” He felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop incredulously. A gigantic shape occupied a very large chamber. He moved his eyes down a serpentine body covered in blood red scales and saw large spikes running half way down the ridgeline forming its neck and back. Turning his gaze back towards the head, he saw a giant maw filled with hundreds of glittering daggers filling and two large red eyes staring back at him.
He knew what it was, but it was impossible. Dragons didn’t exist, they weren’t real. Dragons like in his father’s stories only existed in fairy tales. He had given up on his belief in them when he was still a child after his father had been locked away. An irrational thought scurried across his mind and he morbidly wondered, Why isn’t it trying to eat me?
Glancing back at its large body he saw the golden chains and large manacles on its taloned feet with strange writings engraved on them. Also, the ceiling was too low for it to unfurl its gigantic wings.
I must be dreaming again. This can’t be real! I fell asleep staring at that silly stone, thinking about my father’s silly stories and I’m having another dragon dream.
Instead of moving out of range of the massive beast’s head he started walking towards it.
Since this is a dream, it can’t hurt me. He kept walking until he was next to the golden chains. Micah heard the rasping sound of scales sliding over stone as the dragon moved, following his progress with its wedge shaped head. Momentarily, he met the dragon’s stare and the intense look made him feel as if it was trying to see into his soul. Panic wormed its way through his insides.
Even if this is a dream, that thing is frightening.
Bending low he examined the chains. A tingling sensation swept up through his body, sort of like an itch crawling across his skin. It seemed to be emanating from the chains. Drawing back, Micah slowly reached out to touch the golden surface and saw the strange writing begin to glow.
A voice rumbled in his ears, filling the room. “If you can feel the chains without touching them, I wouldn’t advise doing that.”
Micah jerked his hand back to his side. Spinning, eyes wide with astonishment, he gasped, “You can talk?” Never in any of his other dragon dreams had one of them spoke to him.
The dragon drew back its massive head, as if it had been slapped and almost hit the ceiling. In an affronted tone, it said, its voice dripping with sarcasm, “Of course I can talk, stupid human.”
Growling, it rolled its eyes. “I always forget, despite your years, how ignorant you men of the blood are when you first come over. Well, that might change, providing you live long enough.” It grumbled the last part as if it didn’t expect Micah to hear, but even though the words were low, they still echoed through his ears like distant thunder.
“What is it? Magic?” Micah scoffed, glaring back at the dragon, his mouth forming a smirk. “Magic’s not real and I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“If you don’t believe me, Man of the Blood, go ahead, touch them.” The dragon said ominously.
Micah saw its lips drawn back in a grin of glittering white teeth that made his blood run cold.
“But,” it said warningly, “they are powerful enough to hold me.”
Again Micah swept his eyes down the massive scaled body, rippling with powerful muscles and his smirk faded into a wan smile. Slowly his hand dropped back to his side.
Doubt began creeping through him and he glanced about again at his surroundings. Stone walls and flagstones did not fill his Chicago apartment. Magical Chains, he thought. His gaze fell again on the beast. A dragon. Sweeping his eyes about, staring at his surroundings, he mumbled, “Where the hell am I?”
“Humans call this Illanor. Although Man of the Blood, I doubt that you will find any here willing to welcome you!” The dragon’s voice hardened and it snapped off its last words with a click of teeth, making them sound like a curse. “Most, humans and dragons,” it growled, its voice a low, angry snarl, “would probably be grateful now to see you dead!”
Before he could stop himself Micah blurted out, “Why? I didn’t do anything to anyone, at least nothing here.” Could a dream creature, know about why I’m not allowed to be a police officer anymore? “According to you, I just got here.”
The dragon’s wedge shaped head snapped down and before Micah could blink they were eye to eye. Fear shivered through him as he stared at the snarling visage and he found his feet frozen to the stone floor, unable to move.
In a voice that filled the room with menace, the dragon hissed, “That’s right Man of the Blood, you did nothing!”
Micah could see its long teeth glittering in the room’s pale light as they came together in a vicious snap right in from his face.
“You didn’t wear the medallion like you were instructed to by your father. And you didn’t answer the summons when you were called for nine years ago. You didn’t do your duty and answer the call to save us and now thousands of humans and hundreds of dragons have died, all because of you.” The dragon’s hissing words cut through the air like a whip’s lash and Micah found himself flinching in spite of himself at the tone in them.
“After the Griega came, led by Allenar, only a few dragons and their riders escaped their purge, not many, and not enough to matter. They couldn’t really do anything without you anyway.”
The dragon’s head swept out over the chains holding it and then snapped back in front of him causing him to jump. In a condemning tone it growled, “And I have been a prisoner here, trapped in these chains for nine years unable to help or save anyone from those deaths, all because you did nothing!”
Micah found himself leaping through the air as an angry jet of flame shot out of the dragon’s nostrils, nearly incinerating him. Ripping off his burning shirt, he heard the dragon’s angry voice fade. Shaking its head, it finished sadly, “We should have been there to save them, Man of the Blood. Now almost all have died and the rest have been defeated without us all because you did nothing.”
‘In service to all.’
The golden words had flashed across the face of the redstone medallion his father had always called the Dragon’s eye. Micah had stared at them incredulously. Never had it done anything like that before.
Sitting alone at the table, he delved into his past, trying to remember the old stories his father had told him about the stone and why he always wore it. When he had been twelve, a long time ago, in their shoddy little trailer just outside of Chicago, his father had told him that they were men of the blood. That he was a Man of the Blood. That they served as the protectors of a land called Illanor and that possibly, someday, he could be called to fulfill his duty. Although, according to his father, none had in several generations.
Micah remembered laughing at his father’s fanciful stories about the Dragonworld. He had also searched a world atlas from top to bottom and hadn’t found any land or city called Illanor.
Hard lines creased his forehead as he stared at the medallion. He had laughed when he had been twelve. Now, twenty six years later, he wasn’t laughing.
When he turned eighteen, he had sworn to his father to always wear the medallion, but had stopped after his father had died. Until today, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the silly thing.
Now, warily staring at the golden medallion with its redstone as if it were a viper that had tried biting him, he wondered if it already had. Turning, he looked at the box. A bitter laugh parted his lips. Maryinn, his ex wife, must have put it in there. Shaking his head he remembered, she hadn’t believed his father’s stories either.
The box had been warm. He had felt the heat. And not wanting a fire in his new, shabby efficiency, which was all he could afford on what was left of his police severance, he had opened it.
The Dragon’s eye had filled the bottom. He hadn’t seen it since his father had died twenty years ago, but then it hadn’t been glowing with spidery words of gold. Not thinking, he had reached out.
The words, ‘In service to all’, had filled his head, as if coming from everywhere, sounding as if they came from a hundred different throats all speaking at once. Images had come after. Images of teeth, armor, a massive battle, and flying high in the sky had crashed into his head. Wind had filled his ears and he had felt the hilt of a sword filling his hand. The sensation of flying stole away everything else and he had thought he had heard the roar of a giant beast. Then it was gone. For a brief moment it seemed as if he had been somewhere else, doing something he remembered doing before.
Using a pencil, he had picked up the medallion and placed it on the table. It wasn’t glowing now. To Micah’s eyes it looked perfectly ordinary, just a bit of odd redstone surrounded by gold.
Looking out his small greasy window he saw snow. I’m still in Chicago. Did I imagine it? Must be the divorce, or lack of sleep. Turning his thoughts inward he tried dredging up more memories from his father about the medallion.
Nothing that mentioned glowing came to him. But he did have several about duty to one’s people and having to be there to protect them. According to his father, every time the medallion had been passed on to its next wearer, the one before had died, as the story went, ‘In service to all’.
Tentatively, Micah reached out and flicked the medallion with his fingernail. Nothing happened. Cautiously he reached out and flicked the stone and jerked his hand back as if stung. Nothing happened.
The jerk, he realized was reflexive adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was no pulse of warmth, no flickering letters, no sense of flying. The amulet just lay there. Feeling silly, Micah reached out and traced the top of the cold stone with his fingertips.
Nothing. Taking a chance, he rested his palm on it.
Looking at his hand, Micah decided, I must have dozed off. He didn’t remember falling asleep, though for a few moments his mind had seemed murky. In his head, he saw same the spidery words of gold form again. Not thinking, palm still on the stone he mumbled the saying he had learned from his father who had learned it from his. “In service to all.”
White light exploded in his head as the golden words faded and the dragon’s eye began pulsing with a strong steady rhythm. It took him a moment before he realized that the cold stone now felt like a beating heart throbbing under his hand. Swirling colors of light shot up out of the medallion and wrapped about his body like a glowing blanket. Completely covered in the glowing nimbus from head to toe, Micah felt the pressure of the light on his skin, like a calm caress.
Suddenly it changed. It was like a thousand hands grabbed him all at once. Fear seized him by the throat and desperately he tried to remove his hand but found he couldn’t. All he could do was watch in fascinated horror as the dragon’s eye grew infinitely larger and the light around him grew brighter. The redstone filling his vision changed. Everything became indistinct, and faded into gray.
With a jerk Micah ripped his hand free from of the medallion, and groaned. It didn’t look a stone anymore anyway. Instead it looked like an eye, a large eye at least the size of his head. Unable to move, Micah saw it rotate in a wide circle. A large black pupil slowly came into view. Then it blinked.
Micah threw himself backwards. He knew he should have crashed head over heels over the top of his couch, but it wasn’t there. In fact nothing was there and he landed hard on his back. Scampering crab-like across bare stone, he kept moving until his head hit a stone wall. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Micah found himself shaking his head, trying to remove the swirling images.
The stars faded but the image didn’t. “What in the hell…” He felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop incredulously. A gigantic shape occupied a very large chamber. He moved his eyes down a serpentine body covered in blood red scales and saw large spikes running half way down the ridgeline forming its neck and back. Turning his gaze back towards the head, he saw a giant maw filled with hundreds of glittering daggers filling and two large red eyes staring back at him.
He knew what it was, but it was impossible. Dragons didn’t exist, they weren’t real. Dragons like in his father’s stories only existed in fairy tales. He had given up on his belief in them when he was still a child after his father had been locked away. An irrational thought scurried across his mind and he morbidly wondered, Why isn’t it trying to eat me?
Glancing back at its large body he saw the golden chains and large manacles on its taloned feet with strange writings engraved on them. Also, the ceiling was too low for it to unfurl its gigantic wings.
I must be dreaming again. This can’t be real! I fell asleep staring at that silly stone, thinking about my father’s silly stories and I’m having another dragon dream.
Instead of moving out of range of the massive beast’s head he started walking towards it.
Since this is a dream, it can’t hurt me. He kept walking until he was next to the golden chains. Micah heard the rasping sound of scales sliding over stone as the dragon moved, following his progress with its wedge shaped head. Momentarily, he met the dragon’s stare and the intense look made him feel as if it was trying to see into his soul. Panic wormed its way through his insides.
Even if this is a dream, that thing is frightening.
Bending low he examined the chains. A tingling sensation swept up through his body, sort of like an itch crawling across his skin. It seemed to be emanating from the chains. Drawing back, Micah slowly reached out to touch the golden surface and saw the strange writing begin to glow.
A voice rumbled in his ears, filling the room. “If you can feel the chains without touching them, I wouldn’t advise doing that.”
Micah jerked his hand back to his side. Spinning, eyes wide with astonishment, he gasped, “You can talk?” Never in any of his other dragon dreams had one of them spoke to him.
The dragon drew back its massive head, as if it had been slapped and almost hit the ceiling. In an affronted tone, it said, its voice dripping with sarcasm, “Of course I can talk, stupid human.”
Growling, it rolled its eyes. “I always forget, despite your years, how ignorant you men of the blood are when you first come over. Well, that might change, providing you live long enough.” It grumbled the last part as if it didn’t expect Micah to hear, but even though the words were low, they still echoed through his ears like distant thunder.
“What is it? Magic?” Micah scoffed, glaring back at the dragon, his mouth forming a smirk. “Magic’s not real and I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“If you don’t believe me, Man of the Blood, go ahead, touch them.” The dragon said ominously.
Micah saw its lips drawn back in a grin of glittering white teeth that made his blood run cold.
“But,” it said warningly, “they are powerful enough to hold me.”
Again Micah swept his eyes down the massive scaled body, rippling with powerful muscles and his smirk faded into a wan smile. Slowly his hand dropped back to his side.
Doubt began creeping through him and he glanced about again at his surroundings. Stone walls and flagstones did not fill his Chicago apartment. Magical Chains, he thought. His gaze fell again on the beast. A dragon. Sweeping his eyes about, staring at his surroundings, he mumbled, “Where the hell am I?”
“Humans call this Illanor. Although Man of the Blood, I doubt that you will find any here willing to welcome you!” The dragon’s voice hardened and it snapped off its last words with a click of teeth, making them sound like a curse. “Most, humans and dragons,” it growled, its voice a low, angry snarl, “would probably be grateful now to see you dead!”
Before he could stop himself Micah blurted out, “Why? I didn’t do anything to anyone, at least nothing here.” Could a dream creature, know about why I’m not allowed to be a police officer anymore? “According to you, I just got here.”
The dragon’s wedge shaped head snapped down and before Micah could blink they were eye to eye. Fear shivered through him as he stared at the snarling visage and he found his feet frozen to the stone floor, unable to move.
In a voice that filled the room with menace, the dragon hissed, “That’s right Man of the Blood, you did nothing!”
Micah could see its long teeth glittering in the room’s pale light as they came together in a vicious snap right in from his face.
“You didn’t wear the medallion like you were instructed to by your father. And you didn’t answer the summons when you were called for nine years ago. You didn’t do your duty and answer the call to save us and now thousands of humans and hundreds of dragons have died, all because of you.” The dragon’s hissing words cut through the air like a whip’s lash and Micah found himself flinching in spite of himself at the tone in them.
“After the Griega came, led by Allenar, only a few dragons and their riders escaped their purge, not many, and not enough to matter. They couldn’t really do anything without you anyway.”
The dragon’s head swept out over the chains holding it and then snapped back in front of him causing him to jump. In a condemning tone it growled, “And I have been a prisoner here, trapped in these chains for nine years unable to help or save anyone from those deaths, all because you did nothing!”
Micah found himself leaping through the air as an angry jet of flame shot out of the dragon’s nostrils, nearly incinerating him. Ripping off his burning shirt, he heard the dragon’s angry voice fade. Shaking its head, it finished sadly, “We should have been there to save them, Man of the Blood. Now almost all have died and the rest have been defeated without us all because you did nothing.”