And, so, our tale truly begins.
Warning: Some mature themes from this point on.
Forte heaved, as he lifted his blade up for the twenty seventh time. Despite his age, he had started to develop an unnatural muscularity due to his new diet—a diet now rich in meats from the rare western plains wildebeests that supplemented the berries and nuts he was accustomed to eating. He had left the Daon village, and was now on the far outskirts of the western plains, on the very outskirts of the human controlled domain of the Rottheim Kingdom.
Being on the outskirts was dangerous. Actually, dangerous was an understatement. It was raptor territory. Forde shuddered, as he realized that the soldiers in Daon village might have been attacked by raptors.
Raptors. They were terrible beasts, cunning and vicious. Shaped like an overgrown lizard, raptors had a reputation of stalking human hunters and anyone unfortunate enough to venture too far out away from the western plains, into the wet forested wilderness. Their eyesight was not great, and they relied on scent to track their prey. The scent of human blood was especially alluring to packs of raptors.
Forte had entered the gentle foliage that marked raptor territory by now. But it was a risk he had to take, for two reasons. A greater danger lurked in the human controlled area in the outskirts. A danger that could be summed up in two words.
Slave traders. The outskirts were territory, their expertise. It was a lucrative but extraordinarily dangerous trade. They specialized in capturing runaway or abandoned children, which were fairly common in the Kingdom. The boys would be sold for manual labor or as conscripts, while the girls would be sold as kitchen aids, maids, and sex slaves for the wealthy. Back in his childhood, Forte had overheard a rumor that the deviant Count Florien, master of the western plains, kept boys as his sex slaves. The allegations were hushed and shoved under the table by Count Florien’s many connections. Forte’s family had owned many slaves back when he was younger. Unlike the servants, such as Brother Thom and Sister Silvia, slaves were nameless property.
If Forte was caught, he could be enslaved. Weighing his options, Forte decided that he’d rather get eaten alive than end up as the disgusting Count Florien’s property. And that was why he was on the fringes of raptor territory, training his increasingly heavy body with sword swings, as he kept an eye and an ear open for any uninvited guests.
Many months had passed since Forte heard any sound from the egg. For now, he lugged it around. It hadn’t so much as squeaked, although it was getting heavier and heavier. Simply carrying the knapsack caused tremendous strain on his body.
Forte jolted alert as he heard an unmistakable scratching noise.
A raptor.
He dashed towards the trees and heaved himself onto the branch. A raptor cautiously peeked its head out of the bushes. The raptor hesitated, as it watched Forte scramble up the tree. Raptors were cautious, and tended to target vulnerable individuals. But the sword slung on Forte’s back was enough to make the raptor hesitate for a moment, and as Forte disappeared into the branches and leaves, the raptor lost interest and left.
Forte waited on the top of a thick tree branch, swinging his legs. This was not the first time he ran into a raptor. They were usually too cautious to pounce before their friends showed up. Especially since he had a sword—seemed as if the raptors had past run-ins with sword bearers. Plus, this was just the fringe of raptor territory. Hunters and the like frequently passed through this area.
Forte blinked as he heard voices emanating from the clearing.
“Are you sure they went this way? This is raptor territory!” A thin man whined, wobbling under the weight of his traveling backpack and large mace.
“Yes I’m sure. And you WILL address me with Sir, or I’ll have you lashed and tied up to that tree over there and ring a dinner bell for the raptors. Eh?” the commander of the group sneered.
“Understood… Sir.” The thin man whimpered in a nasally voice.
As he listened intently, Forte considered his options. These people were definitely slave traders. He didn’t liked slavers. Even worse, these men wore the sigil of the house of Count Florien. Forte recognized it from his early years as nobility. They were dressed rather extravagantly for a band of slave traders. The leader of the group had a gleaming, jewel encrusted sword on his side and other impressive looking accessories. Forte had always had a soft spot for eye catchy swords. A mischievous smile appeared on the boy’s face, as he hopped down from the tree.
“AH!” Forte shouted, as he landed on the ground. He put on a sad, pouting expression as he looked up at the troupe of slavers.
The commander hand-signaled halt for the seven man group. He turned to the boy. A large, forced smile appeared on the devilish commander’s face.
Forte began sniffling and tearing up. The tears were real—his whole back side stung from the impact to the ground. “Sir, you have to help me! I went to get some firewood and promised Tammie and Resa that I’d be back in an hour… but then a raptor showed up. I was so scared. Tammie is only six! I need to get back to them. Can you please help me, sir?” Forte rambled, putting on an impressive display of sniffling and crying.
“Why of course, we’d be glad to help. This uncle will help you find your friends again. Now where are they?” The commander questioned, eyes lit with greed.
A six year old girl, and another little boy and girl? They would make a fortune. Little virgin girls were ludicrously expensive and in high demand and could be sold to many potential buyers once they got back to the city, and the sobbing mess of a boy would make his boss Count Florien very happy. The commander shuddered as he thought of the Count—he never liked the old man, and his brand of perversion was unsavory to say the least.
“Thank you so much, uncle! When I get back I’ll ask Resa to cook all of you a nice meal.” Forte said, as he got on his feet and started walking deeper into the forest. “It’s a few minutes from here.”
“You heard the boy, let’s move out.” The commander ordered.
The thin man grumbled as he struggled to stay balanced. He whispered to the commander, “Are you sure we should be going any further, sir? You heard the boy, there’s a raptor around here!”
The commander whispered back to the man, “Listen, idiot. This kid is a runaway. If we get the kid’s two little girlfriends, we’ll be rich. Do you want to be rich? If he doesn’t know where he’s going, we can just bag him and get out of here. It’s a win-win. And if three kids that can’t even fight can deal one damn raptor, we sure as hell can as well. Now shut up before I slice off your tongue.”
The thin man nodded fervently.
Although Forte couldn’t hear what they were talking about, his hair stood on end as they whispered to each other. And then he remembered the ruby encrusted sword on the commander. If only it were his. They reached a crag next to a river, and Forte stopped.
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“This is the place. Let me get Tammie and Resa.” Forte shouted suddenly as he dashed into the woods.
The commander tried to grab him, but the boy had taken them by surprise. He scowled, but decided to wait for a few minutes. The boy seemed gullible enough. And besides, nobody goes against the Count’s wishes and lived to tell the tale, he thought.
Immediately after Forte could no longer be seen by the seven men, he circled around to their flank. Forte glanced at the commander’s ruby blade briefly, eyes gleaming greedily. If he could kill all seven of them by himself, he would. Alas, that was not the case. He’d need some outside help. Forte drew his iron two-hand sword, and crept closer to the thin man. The thin man was a whining idiot–which was perfect. He waited for a minute, until a gust of wind drew the attention of the slave crew. Forte leapt out, grasping his iron sword in both hands, and slashed the thin man’s legs.
“Eiiiiiii!” the thin man let out an unearthly shriek, as Forte’s iron blade cut through the man’s right calf to the bone. A torrent of blood began bursting from the man’s wound as Forte hastily sheathed his sword and ran to a tree.
“It hurts! Aiiiiiiii! Help! Somebody do something!” the thin man screeched at the top of his lungs.
The commander jerked his head at his comrade’s unnerving shriek, eyes darting between the thin man on the ground clutching his leg and Forte climbing up a tree. “Kill him!” he thundered, and the remaining five slavers ran towards Forte. But Forte was much smaller and nimbler, and gained elevation. He sat himself on a thick tree branch and drew his iron two-hand sword.
One of the burly slavers began climbing the tree, making a few feet of progress off the ground before Forte swung down with his iron two handed sword at the man’s arms, digging into muscle and causing the man to let go and fall to the ground with a large thud. The burly man was knocked out by the concussive blow to the back of his head, and he lay unconscious with blood dripping from his arms.
Meanwhile, the thin man continued to scream. Blood covered his legs and seeped through the wound Forte gave him just moments ago. The commander was trying to gag the thin man, to silence him.
The remaining four men stared at the boy dangling his legs on the tree branch, waving his oversized iron sword through the air casually. He was smiling at them. Smiling! Then he stopped. A faint scritch-scratching noise had appeared alongside the wailing cry of the thin man and the grumbling commander trying to silence him.
Raptors.
“Hehe…hahahahaha,” the boy began laughing uncontrollably.
Kekekeke…. A faint chuckle came from the boy’s knapsack.
Four adult raptors emerged from the foliage. At approximately six feet tall, with a long tail and Jurassic teeth, the raptors were an intimidating sight. The commander took one look and ditched the thin man, running as fast as he could in the direction they came from. Forte grimaced as he saw his precious prize get away.
The remaining four men drew their maces and swords. They had nowhere to run. The raptors circled the men cautiously.
“Hahahahahaha.” Forte, still taunting from the tree branches, decided it was time to play a game. He lifted his sword, and then threw it down like a bolt of lightning at the group of slavers, with an athleticism unlike that of an eleven year old boy. It pierced the back of one slaver’s skull.
“Ah!” the slaver yelped, before hitting the ground down lifelessly.
The raptors pounced, sensing weakness. One of the large broad-shouldered slavers slammed his mace into the side of a charging raptor’s head, sending the giant lizard to the ground with a deadly concussive blow. The other two sword wielding slavers were not as lucky, and were immediately overwhelmed and on the ground being gnawed at by the raptors. One was already dead, while the other squirmed futilely. The thin man screamed as he watched his comrades.
The broad-shouldered slaver walked over to his comrades and swung at the three remaining raptors. Two of them looked up from their meal and tackled him to the ground, ripping away at his arms and tearing out his throat. The surviving sword wielding slaver on the ground managed to overwhelm and pierce the raptor attacking him in the stomach, right before having his throat torn out.
The thin man was crawling away with his arms throughout, crying. He had lost too much blood, and no longer had strength to move. The remaining three raptors headed over to the thin man, flipping him over like a turtle as the man scrambled and shrieked.
Forte was content spectating the carnage and taunting the dying men. Suddenly, he felt his knapsack move. He put it on his lap and opened it.
A shriek from the thin man filled the air.
The egg shook violently.
Ripping noises stopped the thin man’s shrieks. He was killed by the raptors.
The egg shattered. From within, poked out the head of a baby black dragon, with deep golden eyes. Eyes that sent a shiver down Forte’s back. The dragon had a regal air of sophistication to it. With deep set eyes, two folded wings, a stout torso and strong jaw, its appearance was distinctly masculine. Handsome, almost.
It stared at Forte, who smiled back softly.
“Nightmare,” the boy whispered, as he looked back at the raptors. Three remained from the carnage. One was gravely wounded by a sword thrust through his chest. Six slaver corpses lay on the ground, with their stomachs and throats ripped out and nutritious organs eaten.
The baby black dragon crawled out of his shell casing, and onto Forte’s shoulder. It nuzzled Forte’s cheek, rubbing affectionately. Suddenly, it raised its head and puffed, leaving a trail of smoke and causing Forte to cough. The black dragon raised its head again, while Forte covered his nose. It inhaled, and then puffed out into the air in front of them. This time, fire came out. Forte gasped. The air in front seared to a ridiculous temperature.
The fire was black.
The dragon breathed black fire. Forte had never heard of such a thing, in all his stories and books. First a black dragon that doesn’t exist, and now black fire?
Forte waited for the raptors to leave, and then climbed down from the tree. He picked up and wiped the blood off his iron long sword. He looted the dead bodies, finding the following: seventy silver pieces, a tattered map of the area, the slavers’ weekly schedule, and a whole arsenal of weapons. Unfortunately he had no real need for any more weapons, as his iron sword was of the highest quality. Forte regretting allowing the commander to escape.
The baby black dragon waddled around the bloody battlefield, curiously poking at the slaver corpses. It nibbled at the corpses, then lurched in disgust. Forte sighed in relief, grateful that it did not like the taste of humans.