Chapter 39
A strong warm wind beat upon the surrounding hills and cliffs pushing, shoving the grass and trees. The frustrated roar of the sea smashing against the rocky feet of the stoic cliffs: the eternal story of the water’s attempted encroachment and the ground’s indifferent repulsion. Upon these rocky precipices sits Arbellorn; with the violent sea whirling, swirling, churning, writhing between the rocky juts below like a snake, waiting to drag its prey down into its cold dark embrace. A great congregation of grey clouds clung stubbornly to the sky. It was like nature itself was reading the atmosphere of events unfolding.
The trees, giant masses of living wood grown and fashioned to create an abode for the forest races to dwell in. Oak, poplar, cedar, beech, birch, fir, and pine, all genera were represented; except, the size, the size dwarfed even the giant sequoia on earth competing with buildings. They swayed with their limbs in the air as if the venue was a concert and they were dancing to the rhythm of a slow passionate melody. Creak, crack, groan, the forest voiced its complaint to the wind.
The many spires: the heart of Arbellorn stood still, despite the aggressive onslaught of the pressing air. The bases of which would take up several whole blocks in a human city. The low hanging cumulus clouds ran around the white towers as if they were rocks in a stream. In the turbulent sky there were swarms of dots: dragons, some hustling, some bustling, some performing their own daily duties. A great number was converging on a certain spot.
Liam looked at Amy purveying the forces in the clear field in front of the city. Thousands and thousands of dragons stood in splendid beige colored armor. A hawk flew over their head from the rise into the clearing below overlooking the assembly of blue and purple scales and brilliant metal. In the ground banners were planted, marked with the crest of the different family lines of the Ddyllewech dragons, each symbol the insignia of their territories.
“It’s time”, Liam said with a stoned face to Amy.
This was not a raid; this was not a competition; this was war. Safety was not guaranteed. There would be casualties. Liam pondered about Ian for a moment. Where had he gone? Was the summoned not received. No that was not like Ian. ‘He’s not lazy like me’, Liam thought to himself. Ian must surely be working towards something of more importance. Even William did not know his whereabouts.
“Today I will be riding William; although usually Ian is my partner, my eternal brother”, Liam said to Amy.
“The vow you took with Glyn who is now your eternal sister, is not a frivolous thing. It has enormous weight, you are bound to each other; this is the base requirement for dragon riding”, Liam looked into Amy’s anxious eyes, “Though our scales can shield us from physical harm, our defense, it is not magic, and provides little help against it. We become huge targets for magic bombardment. So, protecting your mount is crucial”.
Amy nodded her head as she looked away towards the gathering point, “We will be going after the White Duke while our forces battle”.
Liam nodded as he too viewed the army, “Very good”.
He felt proud as stood with Amy. They could not have picked a better team: the Arbellornddaryn raid party, the best talents of the new generation. It reminded him of the dungeon break they repelled fifty years ago in Dduladuum in the cold of the mountainous north. This group had become superstars due to their performance. At the center of it all, the catalyst was Amy. She had come weak, insecure, hesitant; but now, she was confident, sure, strong. Liam looked in her eyes and patted her head fondly. Although her face was full of anxiety, he was sure she would perform valiantly. She did not even need the traditional rider’s uniform. Her magic was so strong she could keep herself on without the enchantments of the flight suit. It was groundbreaking magic, yet Amy did it without any apparent effort. It was a brief heartful moment they took between disciple and mentor.
Amy looked around her, as far as she could see dragons were standing, shifting anxiously, but despite their nervousness it was still a mighty host. These dragons and draegun were not part of some declining magic civilization as often portrayed in media. The reality: this culture had reached the zenith of magical technology and engineering. The tunnel they had entered, which was confirmed to still be there, would be expanded, shaped by the skilled hands of The Alchemist Guild proficient in reshaping matter to their whims. Jeremy had said it reminded him of the engineering core, or the Seabees. Thoughts of him floated in her mind. He had been trying to say something; however, circumstances always stifled his tongue. Everything was happening so fast now, barely leaving room to spare a breath. Before reality had caught up with her, she was perched on Glyn.
Jeremy and the rest of the earth-bound party members were riding Chan, with Sean as the rider. Leaving William and Glyn in their true dragon form as escorts.
Amy looked up in the air, as more and more dragons landed, addling up in formation. It would have been comparable to emergency drills in the large cities on Earth. Something occasionally practiced but soon forgotten; still motivation could be found in the scaly expression each dragon made. The swarms, the torrents of dragons coming, slowed to a trickle, to a stop. It was time.
The main event had come. Seeming to carry a hurricane behind, the chief elder dragon landed with a swoosh and a roar. On a rocky overhang jutting over the field, he stood on all fours with his spread wings: tough, taught, fibrous scaled leather stretching the span of two hundred meters. A wave of lights flashed in the shape of a crescent moon in front of the dragon; the flashes glancing off his weathered royal blue and beige scales. Chaka, chaka, chaka, chaka: the sound of shudders encroached upon Amy’s ears. An elven woman stood in front of Amy along with a camera crew, an onsite reporter that became famous during the raid this spring coverage. Amy had been placed near the front for this event. Of course, there was going to be a broadcast before they left to an unknown destination, to do who knows what. Or at least this was as much as the public knew. Amy was sure the public must be asking why. According to onsite coverage of the raid, the black horde was comparably weaker this spring in Dduraduum, despite a dungeon break being forecasted; and yet even the reserves were called forth to bear, bringing with them gifts of war and ruin.
This speech was not for her as she was at the beating heart, the nexus of this history being written not with ink or quill, but with words and actions. Yet still, she stared attentively at the dragon.
Crayg the granddragon, began his speech, “Earther’s, and Draegun alike. You may be wondering why I let the roar of war ring throughout Arbellorn. Certainly, this year the enemy resistance has been weak. But there is a reason we are together today ready to do battle. You may ask whom are we doing battle for. It is for our long-lost brethren the Il clan: the white dragons”.
Stolen novel; please report.
Crayg swished his tail as he craned his neck peering behind him. Another dragon approached. Amy recognized it was Chan. This was a press conference.
The voice of the dragon seemed to soak into the air, into the earth and stone, “I am of the Il clan. We live in the scarred world of the great cataclysm, in the original Draegoch”, lights gleamed as pictures were taken of Chan, who turned to Amy, “I thank you for your hospitality towards myself and my niece, the last remnant of my family. It appears my clan have disappeared into the forgotten past; but here I stand before you today to make a request. In our world there is no deterrent from the black horde, no boundary they cannot pass. There, numbers seem to seep into the ground, into the spaces beneath in the earth and in the bedrock have we desperately hid for generations. Daily we are persecuted, eaten or used like livestock. This is on the best of days. Right now, is the worst imaginable case: the enemy now marches on our refuge. Countless families live there, in the society we have built with constant struggle and perseverance. Our ancestors gave us one goal, one objective: to survive; and as of this moment we are facing extinction. It is due to the courageous Arbellornddaryn raid party, and a young human that I can even stand before you to say this: but please, I beseech you help my people”.
The assembly was shocked. Camera apps from amateur to professional had stopped. Suddenly, not even the bugs dared not utter a noise. The lost clan, their world, all of the gathered had eyes puzzled, clouded with befuddlement.
“And we will”, Crayg responded, his voice filling every ear no matter how far, “Take to the skies! We will show them they are not forgotten!”.
A roar erupted from army, great enough to cause an earthquake. The stone mason buildings shook, the rocks vibrating dust surely was sifting onto the floor. With the force of several hurricanes, dragons launched into the sky from the rear of the formation first. Then it was their turn.
“Here we go”, Glyn said with an uncharacteristically tense voice.
As they rose vertically, Amy looked below to see Bob approach the elven news reporter. She forgot her name, but the mundane name of Bob in a magical world could not be forgotten.
Throughout the entire flight Glyn was silent, as was Amy. Despite the vast swarm in the air space Amy could clearly see William and Chan. Liam and William were the vanguard, Glyn and Amy the rear guard; Chan in the middle. The dual suns hung low in the shimmering blood red sky, at the same altitude they flew silhouettes in front of two blazing orbs of light. Amy wished she could see the Alchemist Guild transform the tunnel but they could not be in the lead.
The journey had taken them weeks; however, it was an eight-hour flight as the dragon flies. Swarms of stoic faces floated around them. Amy had to strain her eyes in order to see the dragon riders standing atop their mounts.
Amy looked back at the scenery she had witnessed from a lower perspective now below her. There, there it was the tunnel, the ruins. The winds shifted, strengthened beating upon Amy’s face, disheveling her hair. Their attitude changed and now they were on a slope towards the ground. With the ruins in front, Amy gasped as the ground gave way shifting, expanding. Even from this distance Amy could see the tunnel being formed. As they drew nearer, she could see, no she could feel the magic, the will of alchemist below the tunnel became a large gateway. The sound of crumbling stone, and a low grumble filled the air as the earth seemed to protest the change being forced upon it. Just like when she entered the door of Arbell before, entering the tower where she had resided for about two months. Remembering back to the time where she was stuck, the opportunity offered her; just like that time the ground seemed to rush up to meet them in its cold indifferent embrace. Then in a long dark tunnel they flew. The bowels of the ground forcefully moved aside to accommodate the thousands of dragons flying through. It held little semblance to the cramped dark passageways they had lurked through. Even despite all she had seen before this magical work on this scale left her mouth firmly open.
“I love magic”, Amy commented to herself.
“Amy, Glyn, we are entering the battlefield”, Liam’s voice came through the tablet circling about her person, “Prepare yourself this isn’t a raid competition anymore. People will die”.
They exited, and hell awaited them. As if awaiting their arrival, they emerged from rock and stone into the black sky. Loud explosions shook the air, screams could be heard, as the vampire horde opened up their bombardment precisely when Amy returned to the old world. She looked left. Booom! A burst of red magic power lit the black sky; her ears ringing from the concussed air. A dragon spasmed and fell towards the earth. She looked right and a similar explosion shook the air violently and another dragon was hit, the female dragon spiraled down. Indeed, this was different than the competition. This was war. Amy’s eyes hardened; she would erase The Great White Duke from this plane!
“Here we go people!”, the dragon now executive chairman of the board, shouted excitedly from the control booth, as he watched on a monitor projected from his tablet, his son Liam on national broadcast astride his first student William. What was it around fifty years ago when his son and his eternal brother Ian entered the raid that soon turned into a dungeon break: a national crisis? Certainly, it was a bittersweet moment. Through their exploits they had gained great fame and fortune; however, he was just a father worried about his child. He sighed as he remembered being just an anchor during that time. Every day, with worry boiling in his heart, he sat there and relayed the events unfolding, despite his fatherly fretting trying to suffocate him. As a result, he became a mild celebrity, putting him on the staircase that had led him to the career heights he had gained in the guild. Still, they were not his accomplishments but his son’s, nevertheless he was proud and boasted regularly with his coworkers as if they were his own. Now with William, Sean, and Glyn, he felt his age and thought of his grandhatchlings, well they were distantly related, but they were as good as.
The clearing had now turned vacant as if the forces assembled had been a lie. Crayg the Chief Elder of the Ddyllewech people transformed into his human appearance. He remembered that time and still a knot of worry tied his stomach, yet with a grim face he continued.
“Shyryla! Here is your cue!”, he said enthusiastically, he said with energy.
If he could not fight at his age, he could still make sure the nation had an accurate understanding as to why war had been prescribed to remedy this situation that almost none knew about.
‘Huh?’, he thought.
Shyryla was silent. Ahh, he forgot that even in his setting years, Crayg, The Chief Elder, Ian’s Grandfather, was a lady killer like his son. In a regal stride he approached Shyryla, his snowy white hair handsomely contrasting with his royal blue robes with beige embellishment, a strong chin, slightly wrinkled face, and sharp cheerful eyes. Such a stout chest could not be hidden by his loose attire.
Daniel appeared from the control booth and walked over to the camera crew.
“Ohh…sorry”, Shyryla responded as she saw her boss approaching, “Ahemm”.
“Oy, Daniel how are you?”, Crayg called out in a casual tone.
“Good! How are you my friend on this auspicious occasion?”, Daniel responded glancing over at Shyryla, whose face was bright red, “We are on Air in 3,2,1”.
As if he never left the anchor seat, smoothly he began the interview. Of course, the chairman of the board, would be present for the first war in hundreds of years to conduct the interview himself.
“I am good. As expected of your son to be at the heart of these historic events…”, Crayg looked at Daniel with a warm smile.
Daniel looked over at Shyryla the elven reported for a moment, her face was bright red, her breathing had turned heavy, he emitted a subtle sigh not even loud enough to be caught on the hot sensitive mic apps, “Thank you”.
All the events had been relayed to the general public with Daniel as the conduit of information. The story of Amy attacked on earth by a corrupted dragon, how the black horde were confirmed to be once draegun. Explaining why vampires were corrupted elves, ogres: corrupted orcs. About how a bridge between the remnants of their lost world had formed during the raid, and how Amy the human who could use magic was at the focus of these events. The final finding of the last clan that had disappeared for countless years. Some who hypothesized that the clan did not exist were seen as foolish for doubting the annals of their ancestors.
Soon the footage was edited, and formatted then sent to the other towers, for a fee of course. As this was a business. All the Draegun knew the name, Amy Le.