Worldbuilding Wednesday– A Dragon’s Freedom

Part 1: A backstory is needed and a hero steps forth

*Spoiler alert! If you haven’t read “A Dragon’s Freedom” you can click here for the free download (in Issue 5).*

The actual reason for writing “A Dragon’s Freedom” was to write about the life of the dragon Skáhag who plays such a vital role in the later years of the Midlands of Airthai. His death was actually the first thing I wrote about him (poor thing!) as part of the story of both the forming of Naeddre and the love story between Ameragh and Síldu. At that time I was writing a novel about the Midlands (no, it will never see the light of day in its current form – it was practice, or so I tell myself now) and I had built up the people of Naeddre’s mythology of Skáhag. But I needed to know where the dragon came from – and what it was doing in the Midlands in the first place.

Seat-of-Pants Worldbuilding

So, while this story was the first published, it was set in a world I already knew quite well. But, this was all written before the creation story of the world and the story of the sundering. I had just made up the Dragon Guardians on the southern coast and already had a vague story about a ‘not-very-nice’king of the Midlands who gathered dragon tears for riches. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

I wanted the dragons to be simply animals in the world (albeit talking animals). So, like any animal, it would be ‘good’ until treated in such a way that it lashed out. Skáhag had been mistreated during his life, and bound by magic to a master, so that his fight was as much against humans as the darkness created within him. When Ameragh sings to him a song that releases its bonds, his death at the hand of his master is bittersweet as he is at last freed.

By this time the (somewhat) secret language used by the Dragon Guardians and dragons was already present in Ameragh’s song (Here’s the song). I then decided that, because it was so powerful, that it was only known by a select few – the Dragon Guardians, the dragons and the Seafolk’s elders, although they knew it to a much lesser extent. This language was gifted to the Guardians and the dragons in much the same way the Tellerassar was given their own language. Therefore, if the king stole a dragon egg, he would need someone who could communicate with the dragon. Enter Nasja...

A boy called Nasja

The first scene of the story which popped into my head was the dragon’s nest and a boy stealing one of the eggs. At first this was supposed to have been done because of greed on his part (and he was older). But that didn’t sit well with what I had in mind for the rest of the story. For me it was a lot more striking to have him do something which is taboo for Dragon Guardians in order to save his family than simply do it for payment.

The next scene I wrote was of Nasja in the king’s palace. Although I needed a reason for him not to be able to escape, he probably would not have had a banged-up leg if it wasn’t that my own bad knee (the right one, not the left – see, it’s complete different…) was extremely painful that day![1]

At this point, I planned and wrote the rest of the story in a rough draft. When I had finished it, however, I realised that I had had Nasja basically act alone and didn’t really give him cause as to why he would suddenly, after a good ten to twelve years, decide to free the dragons and go home. I left the story to stew, pottering around every now and then and then turned my thoughts to some other short fiction and worldbuilding while I figured it out.

Next week: Worldbuilding shape-shifters and magicians

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[1] Mine is banged-up from ballet, though, and not being kidnapped and dragged over a desert... Cold weather, however, doesn’t really care how you ended up hurting yourself. 

100 Posts: Looking back on a year – and some new fiction

I really hope that I have grown in my writing. What started out as a platform for bits and pieces, thoughts and scribbles soon became a way – especially in these last few months – to keep me committed to writing. But, more importantly, to writing better.

The most popular pieces during the year included the current serial about the We R Dragon Slayers Company, the problem posed to a neighbourhood when an elderly neighbour isn’t seen for a couple of weeks, and the world of Airthai’s dragons and stories.

But, although I have learnt much over this past year, I know that there is still a lifetime of learning about crafting and creating with words ahead of me.

Something Old, Something New:

Here’s a bit of fiction set in a world I am tinkering with. The world is called Icurn and a first glimpse of the world was in the NaShoStoMo piece The Tree Reader earlier this year.

WIP (working title): The Fountain

The stone started speaking to her four years ago. Elrith hated when it was her turn to collect water from the fountain on the corner of the street. It is not that she minded the heavy burden the water posed on the way back to their cramped living quarters in the north of the city of Serenia. She also did not mind the talk of the other young women. It was the fountain itself, or, to be more exact, the stone from which the fountain was constructed.

The fountain had been constructed long before this part of the city became home to the poorer classes .The light brown stone had been specifically imported and used because it was strong, smooth and seemed to keep the water cool even in the heat of summer. The centre of the fountain was a sculpture of four fish  out of whose mouths the water poured clear and clean. For everyone else, the fountain was just that. Nothing but that. Except for a girl she only knew as Maritha’s daughter. Rumour had it that she had heard the fountain’s water speaking to her. But, whatever the rumour, the truth was that she had been living in one of the city’s houses for the mentally infirm. And it was this fact which scared Elrith the most.

And There's More...

Keep on reading for today’s episode of Virgin for Hire, or click here if you want to catch up on the story so far.

Until tomorrow,

Á Agrai tellarias or s'agrélar silássa.

 Virgin for Hire: In Which the Magic Spell Bears Fruit and Something is Stolen

During all of this, the rest of the WERDS Company sat inside the carriage and watched Eldridge enjoy being the hero.[1] The wrangler was well known one of the roads in the next province, where he not only scared the daylights out of a band of thieves, but also had them donating all the stolen goods they kept in a cave nearby to the poor[2]. For, while Philip was the best sword fighter of the group, he also looked like a hero. A chivalrous hero – a hero who would fight fair and who would therefore be quite easy to kill.

Poetry-loving Eldridge, however, looked like the kind who would use the ripped-off arm of the first bandit he could catch to pommel the rest of the band to death before they even had a chance to apologise for trying to rob him. The same man uttering magic spells was even more frightening. The bandits fled before Eldridge’s outstretched hands and Jake even left his monocle behind in his haste to get away from the summoned dragon. Eldridge simply stood there and grinned with a glint in his eye.

“Which one did he recite today?” Philip asked.

Therese, who had the best mind for remembering such things, said: “A riddle about gold. It’s one of Berty’s favourites if I remember correctly.”

The sound of the wrangler rummaging for something in the luggage tied to the back of the carriage, while still having a good laugh, was suddenly cut short. Then his very worried face, white as a very clean sheet, appeared at the window. “We have a problem,” he said. “The dress is gone!”

“Gone?”

“Stolen! The robbers had the arrogance to steal the dress!”

Therese stumbled out of the carriage as fast as her fashionable[3] travel dress allowed to make sure that the wrangler was not mistaken. But he was not. The sturdy carpetbag, in which her specially made damsel-in-distress-dress had been packed, was gone and the straps which had kept it in place had been cut.

After an initial cry of dismay Therese pulled herself together. “Go ask the driver where the closest town with a Magician-tailor is. Tell him we’ll pay him extra.” And then it dawned on her; the driver had been very quiet through the whole robbery.

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[1] The driver, however, was not as lucky as to not be left unscathed by Three-eyed Jake’s poison, but was lying fast asleep upon the driver’s seat.

[2] And a small amount to the local branch of the Fund for Retired Dragons.

[3] (and very unpractical)

The Great Sundering Part 3 – The Night of Fire

For your reading pleasure this week, is part three of “The Great Sundering”. Click here to read part 1 and part 2. Next week I’ll try to have something a bit more uplifting for the fiction Monday!

The Night of Fire

At the time of The Sundering, dragons still lived on the coast of the Eastern Lands. The Saerimavolk were their guardians and knew the Dragon Tongue and their kingdom was very great. At The Sundering, many of the Lewjan's servants, the forebears of the Flotaferan from the scattered trading islands, attacked first the islands not under their power, and then the coast of the Eastern Lands; as they thought that they would be spared death if they could claim the land for their own and their master. There was with the Flotaferan also a Lewjan Lord who wanted to claim and bind the Eastern Dragons to himself to gain more power.

But the dragons saw the ships approaching on the churning ocean and had time to warn their Guardians and the Saerímavolk of the impending attack. Some of the Guardians, who were not fit to fight, fled with some of the dragon eggs and younglings to the Blue Mountains; following the messengers who were to call the peoples there to arms.

The Flotaferan attacked at night, but the dragons were ready for them. They burnt most of the ships and slaughtered many of the Flotaferan, as did the warriors of the Saerímavolk. But the Flotaferan had used for the first time the deadly poison made from the Dragon’s Bane plant, with which they smeared their arrows and killed every last dragon and Guardian they could lay their hands on. The Lewjan Lord did not have the chance to bind one grown dragon to him and could find no younglings on the cliffs. The last dragon alive found the Lewjan Lord and slew him and threw his body from the cliff before he was slain by an arrow from the Flotaferan.

 This night was known as The Night of Fire, because of the many fires that lit the battlefield.

Reinforcements from the Blue Mountains also came to fight the Flotaferan. Together, they and the Saerímavolk overcame the Flotaferan and the remaining attackers fled in the boats that were still somewhat seaworthy. The slain of the Flotaferan were buried in one pit, while a mound was raised over those of the Saerímavolk who fell on that night. The blood ashes were thrown in the ocean and the Dragon Tears were used to cremate the fallen before the graves were covered and the mound constructed. As happens to the dragons when they died, the dragons’ bodies were turned to stone below the waves, or where they fell on the land, and their passing was greatly mourned.

And so, on one fateful night, the time of the dragons and the Dragon Guardians of the Eastern Lands came to an end.

(The Night of Fire is commemorated every year at the first new moon after The Day of Sundering, at the end of summer. The night is commemorated by the lighting of bonfires on the beaches and has come to include mock battles and feasting, where the first nights were held in austerity, recounting the tales of the Sundering around fires on the beaches over a simple meal.) 

Still Worldbuilding Dragons… Sort Of

After a lull in posting (mostly to do with me being on leave), I’m glad to be back in my normal routine – even though I will miss the lovely afternoon naps! I had a wonderful, relaxing and creative week and a half and had a chance to recharge my batteries.

Current Writing

I’ve spent a lot of the time at home building a WikidPad file on Airthai. (Warning: This program is extremely addictive!) will not only make it easier for me to find those elusive notes I’ve so far kept in many notebooks, but also make it easier to post pieces of Airthai fiction and worldbuilding on the blog. Have a listen to this episode of Writing Excuses for some other good Story Bible ideas.

I’m also hard at work on a big rewrite of “The Guardian” which was posted a while back. With the details of the world being filled in, I decided that the short piece, as it was, does not do the story line justice. Here’s just a small teaser of the new and improved "The Dragon Seeker":

The Dragon Seeker

Liuter made his way from the ruins of the city, following the charred land to the ridge the dragon had made its temporary home. He did not try to sneak up to the beast – its sense of smell was far too good. But he did start to sing in the tongue the Dragon Guardians were gifted to communicate with the great dragons, the diuzis-winnan. He started singing for calmness and rest, one of the oldest songs the Dragon Guardians knew: “Aftra aflinnan aírthái, aftra aflinnan afdumbna, afslagan bileitha, afdobnau slépan, slépan nachts diuzis-winnan!”

The poor thing must have been through hell; probably one of the first wild dragons of the Midlands. “Láusei uns af þamma ubilin,” he prayed under his breath.

Liuter stepped up to the rock overhang underneath which the dragon laid stretched out and apparently asleep. He fervently hoped that the song had been strong enough to bind the dragon in place.  The Dragon Seeker saw that the dragon was entirely scarlet in colour, instead of the sapphire hue of the sea or the green of new spring leaves. If the dragon had fallen too far or had become completely wild, they would not be able to communicate with the language. “What is your name?” he asked the dragon.

A wonderful illustration called “Fearsome Drake” by Ben Wootten; one of my favourite artists. 

Until next time,

Á Agrai tellarias or s'agrélar silássa.

Die drakelied van Ameragh/ Ameragh's Dragon Song

Here is a short "song" I wrote for another character in Airthai, Ameragh. In one instance, she sings a dragon to sleep by using the "Ancient tongue" gifted to some of the peoples to be able to communicate with the dragons. This is sang to the dragon Skahag, another wild dragon. His tale is told in part in "A Dragon's Freedom", a short story I hope to get published in the near future.

But, until then, here is the Dragon Song - followed by two translations.

afdóbna slépan


nachts diuzis-winnan

funins diuzis-winnan

aírthós diuzis-winnan

aftra aflinnan aírthái

aftra aflinnan afdumbna

afslagan bileitha

afdóbna slépan

slépan nachts diuzis-winnan!



wat beteken:



wees stil, slaap

draak van nag

draak van vuur

draak van aarde

gaan terug na die aarde

gaan terug na stilte

moenie doodmaak nie

wees stil, slaap

slaap draak van nag



which means:



be still, sleep

dragon of night

dragon of fire

dragon of earth

go back to the earth

go back to the silence

do not kill

be still, sleep

sleep dragon of night

 
In the next post I will give a few thoughts of my own about mythology, legend and the like and share the "Creation Story" of Airthai. Every world needs a beginning...