Days later...
“I am not afraid of any dung smelling warlock,” Barman said as he rode on horseback along with his two friends. He wore a brown leather vest over his young bare chest. He also wore leather pants and boots. A silver plains horse decorated the back of his vest and his long black hair was held back out of his eyes with a leather band that also had the same silver plains horse decorating the front of it. The others wore similar attire, but a different totem animal decorated their clothing.
The Northern Grass Plains Tribe were led by chieftains, and Bork was chief of chieftains.
“Are you sure about that?” Turk questioned. He was the oldest of the three boys. He was sixteen and they were fifteen. A gold grass tiger adorned the back of his black vest and band. His hair was blond and flowed down his back. Turk said, “You have heard of the leviathan that those of the Stygian Legion rides. Do not tell me you are not afraid to face one of those malicious beasts. I know better. I have seen you face a hairless wolf pup when one happened upon our path. You nearly soiled yourself before you ran away from it. I laughed so hard as I watched the pup chase you, that I nearly soiled myself.”
“You cannot judge me for that,” Barman insisted. “I was five at the time, had no weapon, and the pup was very hungry.”
“I know,” Turk chuckled. “It gnawed on my hand the whole way back to my hut.”
“Whatever happened to it?” Barman questioned.
“I traded it for a dagger with one of my neighbors,” Turk replied.
The riders had left the boundary of their home of the Northern Grass Plains days ago, and they had entered the Forest of Pinus. Less than an hour ago, they had left the Forest of Pinus and entered Wyvern the Dragonlands. They had not seen a tree or shrub since doing so. They rode through a red and orange canyon as the sun broke at their backs. The third friend, Cyan, nudged his mare to catch up to the other two boys and the mare whinnied. He wore light brown leather with a silver grass hawk as his totem animal. Ahead of them rode Bork with Cara as his passenger. His father was a large muscular man, and Turk was a slightly smaller version of him. Bork also led their pack horse.
“If I had a dragon under me, I would not be afraid to face a warlock or his leviathan,” Barman insisted as he glanced back at the broadsword safely tucked in his bedroll. “I have my steel and the dragon its claws and magic.”
“We are talking about leviathans,” Turk said. “They are huge. I heard as big as a tower. Their hide is as black as the darkest pit and they can swallow...” He looked to Cara and then he continued, “They can swallow a girl whole.”
Cara glanced back at the comment, but she said nothing at his teasing. She did look frightened as if his tale planted a deep rooting seed of fear within her.
Bork glanced back as the sun burned the horizon and he barked, “We are late. Let us pick up the pace.” He kicked his horse, and it galloped off. Bork's leather was ashen in color, and it was marked by a totem of a great white grizzly bear.
Turk and his friends followed closely behind Bork. The canyon path started to narrow, and the horses moved and formed a single file. Turk followed his father's pack horse, Barman him, and Cyan brought up the rear. Turk removed a bota filled with water and took a drink. He was hot and noticed he wasn't sweating. The dry air of the region consumed any moister. Turk already missed his home and the cool breezes that would greet him of a morning. Here, the wind was harsh and filled with sand.
“Are you saying you would not be in the least bit afraid to face a leviathan?” Turk continued questioning his friend. “You know they bare their teeth right before they gobble you up. I believe they call it death's smile.”
She glanced back at him again. Her light blue eyes looked a little more frightened. She noticed he saw her glance, and she bowed her head and turned back around. The trip so far had been long, and Cara wasn't used to riding on a horse. Her backend hurt, and she prayed for the trip to end.
The path through the canyon veered, and the sun moved to the left of them. The wind continued to harass them and the sun beat down on them. Shade was a welcomed and yet fleeting friend.
“Why do you keep asking me about the leviathans?” Barman questioned, then he stared at her, and he asked, “Or are you trying to get a fear-filled response from someone else?” He noticed Turk's reaction to his inquiry and Barman stated, “You are.” He chuckled and said, “You do like to be a tyrant even when we are away from home. I pity any girl you take for your wife.”
Turk ignored him, turned in his saddle, and asked his other friend, “What do you think, Cyan? What would you do if you faced a warlock and his leviathan?”
“I...” he started to answer when movement in the sky distracted him. Cyan shaded his eyes and glanced up, but whatever it had been had already flown away.
They heard a scream of a dragon in the distance and seconds later, a large, green, gold speckled one flew over them a second time. Athenia Dragons had four legs, a pair of wings, and a tail, and their scaled hide came in an array of colors. The flying dragon returned and flew just above the canyon. The green dragon kicked up a torrent of wind through the path as its wings flapped to keep itself hovering above them. Sand flew up and blasted the faces of the group more than it had in the past. Bork halted his horse.
A dracoman yelled down to them, “Are you Bork, chief of the chieftains of the Northern Grass Plains Tribe?” The dracoman wielded a large shield and spear, but he didn't sit on a saddle. It appeared that the dragon's body had swallowed part of his.
“Yes,” Bork shouted back.
“Proceed with haste,” the dracoman ordered them. “The birthing is about to begin.”
“We shall,” Bork yelled and muttered under his breath, “Blasted dracoman... We would have been there if he had not stopped us with his dragon's cyclone.”
“I shall meet you there,” the dracoman yelled then he turned his dragon and headed back.
Chapter Three
The Birthing
The group pressed on and the path ended at Firedrake, the north-east nests of the dragons. The large open area formed an enclosed half circle, and the caves laid beyond that. Some distance from the caves was a stable. They quickly rode to the structure.
Bork dismounted his horse as Cara slid off behind him. He tied up his horse at the watering trough. Inside the stable, several horses and other riding animals could be heard moving about their stalls.
“Hurry, girl,” he said. “We are late.”
“Yes, master,” Cara replied as she limped to their pack horse and started unloading the equipment. She was twelve now and it was her first time leaving the tribal lands, so she peered around at the strange land of the dragons.
Bork brought his son and his two friends to participate in the Dragon Rite. She was there to prepare their meals while they stayed in Firedrake. The ceremonial acts would take about five fortnights.
The dracoman, who had spoken with them earlier, approached as he told them, “You must come now. The queen has already started her birthing pangs. Quickly, this way!”
Bork started after the dracoman, paused, and shouted, “Fetch the gifts, girl. The rest of our items you can unload later. We are late for the first act of the Dragon Rite. Turk, Barman, and Cyan, come with me. The queen shall soon lay her eggs if she has not already.”
“Yes, father,” Turk replied.
The three boys dismounted, removed their swords from their bedrolls, and followed Bork, and he led them toward the caves. Two large dragons guarded the entrance. They were tall, three horses high, and winged. One dragon was the color of bronze and the other was teal.
“I shall leave you here,” the dracoman spoke. “I need to return to my patrol.” He walked off without another word.
The teal colored dragon carefully eyed the four of them and then he said, “Dragon Elder Duran awaits you, Bork. You need to proceed with haste to the Ritual Room. The first act of
the Rite is about to begin. It cannot be delayed.”
“We shall hurry,” Bork replied, then he started in and paused. “Blasted! Where is that girl? We need the gifts. Useless girl! Turk, go see what is keeping her.”
“Yes, father,” Turk answered then he hurried back to their horses as the others continued into the cave.
At the stables...
Cara was having difficulty undoing the buckle to the pack. She finally unbuckled it and removed the wooden chest from the pack. She held the chest in her left hand and started toward the caves when something caught her eye in the sand. She reached down, picked up a bloodstone the size of a walnut, and examined it as she said, “This is pretty.”
“What is taking you so long, wench?” Turk barked as he approached her from her blindside.
Startled by his sudden appearance, she looked up, saw his angry face, and clasped her hand around the bloodstone to hide it from him. If he found it, she wouldn't be allowed to keep it, but that wasn't the only thing she feared from him. Trepidation ransacked her heart like one of the great tempest that ravaged her homeland, and she pleaded, “Forgive me, young master. I could not...”
He walked up and back handed her as he yelled, “Do not give me excuses!”
She held her reddening face, but his reaction was mild compared to other times. The sting of the strike made her pause as fear of what he might do next whirled in her mind. Cara chose her next words carefully and made them few as she spoke, “Forgive me.”
He grabbed the wrist of her stunted arm and jerked her toward him, and she nearly dropped the chest. She caught it with her right hand as he squeezed bruises that were already days old. The veins in his neck bulged with his targeted wrath as he started to yell, but then two dracomen walked by.
Turk leaned in close and whispered to her, “There is no forgiveness for you, wench. Now hurry, before my father yells at the both of us.”
Once he released her, she ran as fast as she could. He jogged beside her, and they passed the two dragon guards. The dragons eyed them but said nothing. They proceeded further in and Turk didn't let up on her.
“You are so worthless!” he yelled. “I do not understand why my father keeps you. You are slow, ugly, and incapable of doing any real work, and I am the one that has to hear it when you fail to do your duties. Wench, go faster.”
“Yes, young master,” Cara said as she hurried even more to the point of almost falling over in her awkward gimp. She never understood the rage he had toward her. He never treated the other slaves as he did her. She wondered why she was any different. Maybe it was Bork's wife who influenced her son's wrath.
They hustled through a tunnel, and the air cooled the deeper they went. Wooden torches along the walls lit the way. He moved in behind her and watched as she rushed in her graceless gait. They were moving too slow and this enraged him even more.
“Look at her,” he muttered to himself as his anger turned to loathing. Look how weak she was. His tribe was a proud tribe and a race of warriors. He didn't understand why her parents allowed her to live or his father. Even if she was a girl, she represented his tribe. How could they show their faces with such weakness at their side? When he became tribal leader, all of that would change. No feebleness would be allowed.
Upon entering the large cavern of the Ritual Room, Turk removed his sword's scabbard from his belt and tripped her with it. She fell sprawl out, then the lid of the wooden chest came open, its contents spilled out, and three marbles made of gold clanged to the stone floor. Everyone in the room turned at the sound.
Three candidates from each of the other four tribes were assembled along with Bork, Barman, and Cyan. The other candidates were about the same age as Turk and his friends. The chief of the chieftains of each tribe or the second highest ranking chieftain was there. There were also four Venetian Red Scribes to record the event, and Dragon Elder Duran and two other dragon elders waited patiently.
Stalagmites and stalactites filled the Ritual Room that was not only lit by torches but by several basket-shaped cast iron fire stands. The stone path led down into a white sandy area. The sand had phosphorescent microbes living in it, and anywhere where darkness prevailed, the sand glowed a light green.
“Blasted girl!” Bork blurted, embarrassed by her.
Barman and Cyan snickered as Turk came their way with a big grin on his face. He was pleased that his intension just to trip her up, had also caused her great embarrassment. His father will be furious with her, and maybe his father would pay less attention to her. Turk's mother had whispered many things to Turk about this slave, and it had infuriated him since he was a boy, and he mistreated her for it.
Cara looked around at the many male faces staring at her, and her face flushed as she quickly picked up the gold marbles and placed them back in the chest. She hurried to Bork, and the sand was cold to her bare feet.
“Take them to the elder,” Bork ordered.
She turned and timidly approached the large yellow dragon. She had never met a dragon before, and she had never met anything so big. He looked as if he could swallow her whole if he so choose to.
“Are these the gifts?” Dragon Elder Duran questioned her as he stared at the wooden chest.
She couldn't look him directly in the face and nodded. The dragon smelled of earth and his feet were as large as her body.
Dragon Elder Duran motioned beside himself with his head as he instructed her, “Place them in the Bestowal Basin. It is located on the raised area known as the Middle Ground.”
She searched the area he motioned to and saw a shallow silver bowl on a stalagmite that had been cut into a pedestal. The Bestowal Basin was positioned halfway between the Ritual Room and the Quickening Chamber where the queen paced. There were also several dragons standing guard over their queen within the Quickening Chamber. Cara moved from the Ritual Room toward the center of the great cave to the point the dragon had motioned to. The Middle Ground consisted of a circular dark gray stone platform that had three steps going up to it. The stone was big enough that several dragons could stand on it. She moved up the steps to the pedestal as the dragon came up behind her. The Bestowal Basin was so large that both of her arms would only encompass half of it. She was barely tall enough to look inside. She got on her tippy toes and saw twelve gifts within. There were three rubies, three silver coins, three diamonds, and three emeralds. She placed in the three gold marbles, and the bloodstone she had been holding in the same hand also fell in, so Cara reached in and retrieved it. She started back to her master.
Dragon Elder Duran saw the glint of red before she scooped it out of the basin. He knew how some humans liked to take things that didn't belong to them, and he couldn't allow her to steal one of the gifts so he said, “Wait, child. What did you retrieve from the gifts?”
She tilted her head as if she didn't understand his question, so he rephrased it by saying, “What are you holding in your hand?”
“My hand?” She paused, opened her palm, showed it to him, and then she replied, “Only this.”
He noticed what he thought was a ruby and Dragon Elder Duran warned her, “All gifts are to go in. You may not remove them once they have gone in the Bestowal Basin. You must return the gem.”
She would have argued that it wasn't part of the gifts or a gem, but she was too afraid to do so. She quickly turned, went back up to the pedestal, dropped the bloodstone in, and rushed back to her master.
Bork leaned down to her and whispered, “Girl, did the elder catch you stealing?”
“No, master. I...”
“Quiet...” he ordered, then straightened, and said, “Blasted girl... I shall deal with you later.”
Syllabary, one of the Venetian Red Scribes, stepped forward and said, “Now that we have all gathered, please follow me. The queen is this way in the Quickening Chamber.”
He and the other scribes wore scarlet robes embroidered with gold. They held
a Convey Scroll and Blazing Quill, and a leather satchel rested at their side. They walked up a ramp of rock to a raised area ten feet up from the ground called the Observers Dais just beside the Middle Ground. From this advantage point, they could see everything within the Ritual Room, the Quickening Chamber, and especially the Middle Ground. The Venetian Red Scribes went and stood on top where they could witness the Dragon Rite, but they were still out of the way. The dragon elders joined them on the Observers Dais and stood behind the Venetian Red Scribes near the back wall. The four Venetian Red Scribes formed a line close to the edge of the Observers Dais, facing the Middle Ground and once they were all in position, they began.
“Expositus!” the scribes shouted.
Each of their scrolls magically lifted from their hands, unrolled, and hovered in front of them. The Convey Scrolls were created from the bark of a Floating Tree of Amber and endowed with magic. Whatever the scribe wrote on it would be there one moment and then would be whisked away to their Chronicle Tome located in the Scribe Hall in the Capital of Athenia. Their accounts would remain in the Tome that even fire couldn't destroy. The Blazing Quill was also magical and never ran out of ink, and it was made from a sphinx feather and glowed when in use. They started writing their account of the first ceremonial act, and the blazing light from their quills lit their faces.
The area filled with the noise of the candidates and their patrons as they all walked to a connecting cavern called the Quickening Chamber. There, the dragon queen labored in the middle of laying her first egg. She grunted and growled with her pain-filled efforts. Her vocal exertion frightened a few of the candidates as they formed a line to watch. For most, this was their first time participating in the Dragon Rite. They quieted and watched the queen.