Here be dragons...

Here is another, quite simple map of the Southern Lands of Airthai, showing the lands of the Seafolk and their neighbours (drawn by yours truly). The Dragon Guardians are part of the Seafolk and live at the aptly named Dragon Cliffs. This is where "A Dragon's Freedom" starts...

Map of the west of the Southern Lands 

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.) 

The Guardian

This is a Flash piece I've written for the monthly Flash Fiction contest over at SFFWorld.com. I'm drawing on the world of Airthai that I've created, but decided to rather do this piece completely in English, 'translating' the ancient language where needed.
This month's theme is "Redemption"... and out of it was born a new character - Liuter, a Dragon Guardian.

Read on...

The Guardian


Liuter went to the town expecting to be killed. He was chosen, as a Dragon Guardian, to rid Tonburg of a wild dragon. Around him the town lay in smouldering ruins. Almost none of the people dared to remain in the gutted town. The dead had been buried and most of the people had fled to the farmlands. It had taken a Liuter a week to reach the town. At first, when the Dragon Guardians had heard that a dragon had been spotted to the south of the Great River, they had rejoiced at one of the stolen kin returning to the coast. But then the beast had started to wreak havoc on its way south, burning and killing and it became clear that the dragon was one of the wild ones that had escaped the clutch of Marcus of Guldargan.

Liuter switched his shoulder bag from his left to his right shoulder. In it he carried some rations, a field book and a vial of distilled Dragon’s Bane poison. At his hip hung a short sword. Around his neck hung one of the stones called a Dragon’s Gift. He hoped that he would not need to use the poison or the sword.

He made his way from the town; following the charred land to the ridge the dragon had made its 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 a song in the ancient tongue the Dragon Guardians used to communicate with the great beasts. He sang for calmness and rest and to let the dragon know that he was coming in peace. The poor thing must have been through hell in the fighting force of the old king. The king had sent out mercenaries to steal dragon eggs from the southern coast. He even kidnapped some of the Guardians to be able to communicate to the beasts. None of the Guardians were seen again and the dragons had become wild, dumb beasts.

Liuter stepped up to the overhang where the red dragon laid, stretched out and apparently asleep. The young Guardian seeing that the dragon was entirely scarlet in colour, instead of the sapphire hue of the sea. He started speaking to the dragon in the ancient tongue that held the Talent to communicate to the beasts. He asked the dragon its name. A yellow, cat-like eye glared at him from beneath the bony blood red brow ridge, but did not give an answer. Instead, the thoughts that pelted him were wild, wordless and full of malice.

He took the Dragon’s Gift from beneath his brown tunic. “See,” he said. “This was gifted to me by some of your kin. I’ve come to take you home.” He went on to tell the glaring dragon of the shimmering sea and the tall cliffs where his kin lived. The language was melodious and musical and even put him at ease before this great dragon.

The dragon stirred and lifted one of its great claws slowly, stretching it out to the Guardian; his eye fixed on the stone he held in his hand. Luiter glanced down and felt bile rising in his throat, for beneath the scarlet claw was a severed human limb. When the beasts pulled back its scaly lips to reveal its great teeth, Liuter saw that they were stained with gore. He quickly uttered more words of peace to place the dragon at ease and then bound it in place with an old rhyme – used only as a last resort, and only to those beasts fallen to the shadow. Those that, against their nature, revelled in killing men. The dragon struggled against its invisible bonds, but managed only in scratching at the dirt and rocks beneath its great claws.

Liuter took the distilled poison from his pack and walked closer to the dragon. He could not help the tears that flowed over his cheeks as he tipped the vial of poison into the great beast’s maw. With more words and promises of peace he watched the fire in its eyes die. Then, when he was sure that the nameless dragon’s heart had stopped beating, he cut out its heart and buried it some way away. The last thing he needed was someone skilled in the dark arts using the dragon’s heart in his spells.

When he turned to leave, his eyes caught a piece of smooth quartz not far from the dragon’s lair and his heart skipped a beat. He went closer to remove some of the soil and saw that it was indeed a dragon’s egg. With a heavy heart he placed it in his bag and made his way back to the town.

There, the people had been told of his coming and was waiting for him to return. They cheered and clapped their hands when they saw his clothes stained with the blood of the dragon. “You’ve saved us,” one of the woman said, bowing low to him as if he was some great lord.

He wanted to ignore her. He had killed a wonderful animal, but they would not understand. They had never talked to the dragons like he had. They had only ever witnessed the destruction caused by the dragons that had gone wild, seeking revenge and losing themselves in shadow. He kept the egg a secret. The only thing that would redeem him from his act of killing that day would be to deliver the egg to the Guardians for safekeeping.

***