Immediately the black-scaled dragon's lips peeled back in an angry growl as it dropped to all fours, its tail lazily sweeping back and forth with an easy, predatory grace. All he saw were those teeth, however, and he knew then that there was a good chance he might never see another day.
“Woah, boy! Woah! What’s gotcha all…” a gruff voice called, and then the dragon’s rider stepped out from behind the beast and saw Valen as well. He was dressed in a combination of black plate mail and dull leather armor, with a horned helm tucked up against his side in his left arm while in his right he held a wickedly jagged sword, a blade that also happened to be dripping with what he had been smelling since stepping into the Great Roost.
Blood.
“Well what do you know? Royce, looky here!” the darkly clad dragon rider called. That was when a second armored warrior stepped over next to the first, and another black-scaled dragon followed close behind, this one a bit smaller than the first and with sleeker features. A female maybe? Valen shook his head. He should not be worrying about the gender of a beast that might very well be about to kill him.
“Ah hah! I was wonderin’ ‘ow long it’d take fer someone ta show up!” the second dragon rider exclaimed, a broken grin splitting a face as ugly as the cracked teeth it put on display. Finally, Valen broke from the terror that had taken hold of him upon first seeing the dragon and saw behind the riders where the blood had come from.
The bodies of three wyverns lay at the yawning mouth of the Great Roost, one of which he recognized right away as Aevra’s mother. Terror made way for shock and then rage, and despite knowing better he stepped completely out of cover.
“How dare you?! How dare you?!” he shouted, anger clouding his better judgement at the sight of the wyverns, beautiful creatures slaughtered for no good reason save for the sport of their killers. The two riders laughed at Valen’s show of anger, as if it were amusing to them.
“You may want to calm down there, boy, before your anger gets you into trouble you can’t come back from. Now where is the master of this Hatchery? The Imperial Order of the Blackscale Knights brings an official proclamation from the Holy Emperor of Parovia, and he’ll want to hear it,” the first rider, the obviously more well-spoken of the two, replied. Yet Valen still could not help himself, could not bring himself to calm down after what they had done.
“And delivering this ‘proclamation’ requires you to slaughter innocent wyverns?!” he snapped. At this, though the first rider still seemed amused, the second one with the broken smile was no longer smiling, and he took a step towards Valen, a jagged one-handed axe rising towards the young Galar.
“Now, I’m no’ gonna say i’ again, brat. Watch yer tone, or I’ll ‘ave to watch it for ya,” he snarled. At this, Valen’s anger came under control, though once more it was replaced with fear as he took a step backwards. What was he doing? Why couldn’t he keep a better hold on his mouth? These men claimed to be members of one of the fully-fledged Imperial Orders, the dragon riding knights that served as the right hand of the Emperor, and Valen had just disrespected them.
And yet. And yet…
“I still don’t understand why you had to kill those wyverns. There was no reason to-“ he started to say. At this, though, the second knight, the one with the axe, seemed to lose his patience and he started towards Valen with murder in his eyes.
“I warned ya, ya little shit!“
What happened next came so quickly that none of them could react until it was over. Fast as lightning, Valen’s new friend, the wyvern Highborn, leapt clear over both dragons from behind and crashed down on top of the advancing knight, crushing him into the ground. There was a jerk of his jaws and the man was still, fresh blood spraying out across the stone floor of the Great Roost to join the already congealing older blood. Then the hotblooded wyvern whirled and lowered himself close to the ground, taking up a defensive stance right in front of Valen, the blood of the dead knight spilling out beneath the drake’s taut form and trickling down his jaw.
There were several long moments of silence as both Valen and the remaining dragon rider stood there, totally stunned, shocked by the suddenness of the violence that had just taken place. Then the slain rider’s dragon roared and pounced, leaping across the space between it and the wyvern with its intent to kill plain to see.
The Highborn was about to leap to meet the attack, but before the two Drakes could reach each other there came a roar that practically knocked Valen off of his feet, and huge jaws larger than the dragon’s entire body closed around it and ripped it from the air, pulling it from the open face of the building and dashing it against the rocky cliffs outside. The dragon’s body fell, mangled and broken, out of sight, but no one was looking at that.
All eyes, even those of the remaining dragon, were on the furious, snarling face of Maelienas, the Matriarch. And she certainly was furious.
Valen had seen angry wyverns before. He had even seen Maelienas angry once or twice in the time he had spent helping his father with the Hatchery over the years. Never in his life, however, had he ever seen the pure, unadulterated rage that shone like bright flames in the Matriarch’s eyes now. The rumble of her growl shook the very walls around them, and one by one wyverns began to emerge from their nests, no longer afraid of the strange invaders, answering the rage of their Matriarch with rage of their own.
The Great Roost suddenly felt more like a slaughter house, with Valen right in the center.
The Highborn grew closer to him now, turning his body to surround him as much as possible, sensing the killing intent of the other wyverns and wanting to protect his flightbrother. Which made sense, considering he had not yet been fully initiated into the flight. He might recognize Maelienas as his Matriarch, and Valen as flightbrother, but none of the other wyverns here knew him more than passingly.
Which meant they might very well go after him if they attacked the dragon and its rider, as well. And with the Highborn curled protectively around Valen…
He grew very still, not loving the thought of being torn apart by a mob of furious wyverns that he had spent so much of his life helping to raise and care for. That was an experience that he would very much like to avoid.
Then, like an answered prayer, the clear sound of a ringing bell echoed through the air and suddenly the Matriarch’s furious features untwisted, her focus shifting from the dragon and its rider towards the sound. All of the smaller wyverns followed suit – save for the Highborn, who had not yet been trained to respond to the bell’s ringing – their aggression dying down as they began to calm down.
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“Valen! Valen, are you alright?!” a voice that he immediately recognized as belonging to his father called. Whirling around, he saw Aliden rushing towards him over the Highborn’s curled tail. He released a breath he had not even been aware he was holding and raised a hand in greeting.
“Yeah, Da, I’m fine. But…” at this, Valen trailed off, not sure how to properly explain what had happened, and not sure that he even should when in a moment his dad would be able to see for himself.
“Blood of the Four,” he heard his father curse, apparently catching a glimpse of the blood for himself. It was so strange, even considering the situation, for Valen to hear him curse that for a moment he forgot the situation he was in and nearly scoffed aloud. But then the sound of a dragon’s snarl shook him back to reality, the remaining rider’s beast apparently not happy with the dangerous situation or the rapidly approaching human.
Luckily, the dragon’s rider seemed to recognize the need for tactfulness in this situation, and so laid a hand on the dragon’s side to calm it before speaking.
“Are you the master of this Hatchery? One Aliden Galar?” the rider asked, his voice steady, as if his life was not in the slightest bit of danger. Valen had the sense that there was a reason this man had been sent on this mission. He seemed to have a good head on his shoulders with the way he was handling all that had happened in the last few minutes, although the same could not have been said for his fallen partner.
“I am Aliden. What is the meaning of this? How dare you come into our Hatchery and murder three of our wyverns?” Valen’s father snapped, and unlike Valen his voice did not shake as he raised his voice to the rider. The knight’s face twitched, the only hint of any real emotion beneath the small, fake smile he had affected when he began to speak.
“My name is Olivus, and we-“ the man’s eyes turned to the body of the other rider, then to the wyvern Matriarch still with her massive head blocking the way behind him, before he corrected himself and continued.
“I come to you today with an official proclamation from his Imperial Emperor, Master of the Dagoldan Empire, Ruler of all-“ the man would have kept going, but Aliden’s voice cracked like a whip, stopping him mid-sentence.
“Be on with your ‘proclamation,’ or leave. Now." The dragon rider’s face twitched again, but then his mask of pleasantness fell back into place and he nodded.
“Very well, then. Here it is. By order of the Emperor, all wyvern hatcheries are to be permanently shut down and destroyed, and all wyverns are to either be brought to the Mills in chains or slaughtered where they are. Failure to comply will result in the imprisonment, enslavement or execution of all those who resist. You have twenty-four hours to leave or you will be destroyed along with your hatchery and the wyverns living here,” the knight said. His voice was measured, but the sudden sharpness of his eyes betrayed his apologetic tone. It was obvious, then, that he enjoyed the look of absolute horror that had fallen over Aliden’s features, replacing the righteous anger that had been there until only moments before.
Valen, of course, had heard the man as well, but the only thing he could feel was cold shock, overriding any other emotion that tried to come forth. He tried to move out from behind the Highborn that still seemed absolutely determined to protect him, but the wyvern turned and lightly shoved him back with his tail, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the remaining rider and dragon.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he instead turned his attention back towards his father, whose abject horror had shifted somewhat into some sort of cross between horrified and determined. He rang the bell in his hands, and then looked up at Maelienas, making a few quick motions with his free hand that were apparently a command, because the massive Matriarch finally pulled her head out of the Great Roost's open wall, allowing the chill wind of the outdoors in once more, beginning to carry the scent of blood away.
“Get out,” Aliden said, his voice now quiet, but the tone with which he spoke could in no way be misinterpreted. He was not making a suggestion, he was giving a command, and the rider knew it just as well as Valen did. The man’s eyes narrowed and he sheathed his sword, but he made no move to mount up yet, locking stares with Valen’s father as if trying to get a decent measure of him.
“You’d do well to leave while you can, Mr. Galar. If you don’t go soon, the ability to choose will be taken from you,” the dragon rider said, his voice no longer pleasant. It had dropped to match Aliden’s tone, and once more the tension was palpable.
The Highborn began to growl, a menacing sound that ripped through the tension like a blade through paper. Aliden and the dragon rider both turned towards the wyvern before Valen's father chuckled and continued.
“You heard me before, dragon friend, and now you've heard my our wyvern friend there. Get. Out. Before I change my mind and let the Matriarch deal with you the way she would like to,” he said. Finally, the dragon rider acquiesced, eyes narrowing with irritation as he turned and pulled himself up into the saddle on his dragon’s back. The black-scaled beast let out a roar of challenge, but the Matriarch let one loose that more than matched it, and with that the dragon took to the air.
“You heard me before as well, you fool! If you aren’t gone by nightfall tomorrow, your fate will be the same as that of the wyverns here!” the knight yelled. Then he and his dragon were off, rocketing out of the Great Roost and into the late evening sky.
It only took maybe thirty seconds for him to disappear completely, racing away to report back to his superiors. For a long while, however, Valen and his father just stood there, even though the overprotective Highborn seemed to realize that the danger had passed and moved off to the side, still keeping an eye on Valen but apparently happy to let him move around now.
Yet he didn’t, just staring after the no longer visible rider, mind full of the dark tidings he had brought them. The only thing that finally snapped him out of his dazed reverie was when the blood of the fallen drakes and the dead dragon rider had spread to his feet, and he had to either move or stand there and let it dry under his shoes.
“Da… what are we going to do?” he finally asked, turning to look at Aliden as he stepped back. His stomach was roiling, and he could barely contain its contents after the danger he had just been in coupled with the bodies lying there in front of him.
“We do what we must, Valen. We do our duty. I cannot abandon the wyverns to die here. I will not,” his father replied, turning to meet Valen’s eyes with his own.
Aliden’s face had become unreadable, which concerned Valen more than fear or anger or any other emotion might have.
At that moment, there was a shout and the doors at the far end of the building flew open, crashing into the walls with a bang as Aiden came running in, racing straight towards his brother and father. As he drew closer, Aliden looked at Valen once again, eyes harder than he had ever seen them.
“Now, we get ready to fight the best we can, and we pray to the Four for deliverance,” Aliden said. Valen could no longer hold it in at that point. He was sick then and there, but even as it happened all he could think about were the dozens of wyverns and their hatchlings at the Hatchery, innocent creatures who did not deserve the death that was coming for them.
The only comfort he found in that moment came, of all places, from his flightbrother, the Highborn, whose head was suddenly nuzzling up against Valen’s side, forcing a little chuckle out of him despite the nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach.
And, finally, he thought of a name, the name of a wyvern he had heard since he was a child, in tales his mother had told him as he went to bed at night of the first wyvern rider and his mount, the bravest drake to ever live, the son of storms himself.
“Thank you, Raenelir,” he whispered, bringing one hand up to scratch at the base of the wyvern’s jaw. The creature let out a satisfied rumble, and it almost felt as though Valen could feel a sudden, powerful current of electricity run up along Raenelir’s body as he accepted the name. He would have thought it was his imagination, if not for the shock that stung his hand and shot up his arm as it passed through where he had been scratching the wyvern’s neck and into him.
He looked down at his hand in wonder, then, because he could swear that it almost looked as though the lines of his palm had grown more jagged, sharper, almost like…
Lightning.