Damiynn
Fantasy Author
Chapter 1
‘In service to all.’
The golden words had flashed across the face of the redstone medallion his father had called the Dragon’s eye. Micah had never seen it act the way it had today.
Sitting alone at the table, he remembered some of the old stories his father had told him about the stone and why he always wore it. When he had been twelve, in their shoddy little trailer just outside of Chicago, his father had told him that they were men of the blood. That he was a man of the blood. That they served as the protectors of a land called Illanor and that possibly, someday, he could be called to fulfill his duty. Although, according to his father, none had in several generations.
Micah remembered laughing at his father’s fanciful stories about the Dragonworld. Also, he had searched a world atlas from top to bottom and couldn’t find any land or city called Illanor.
A hard line creased his forehead as he stared at the medallion. He had laughed at age twelve. Now, twenty six years later, he was not laughing.
At eighteen, he had sworn to his father to always wear the medallion, but had stopped after his father had died. Until today, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen it.
Now, staring at the golden medallion with its deep red stone as if it were a viper that had tried to bite him, he wondered, if it already had. Turning, he looked at the box where he had found it and laughed bitterly. Maryinn, his ex wife, must have put it in there. Shaking his head he remembered she hadn’t believed his father’s stories either.
The box had been warm though, he had felt the heat. Not wanting a fire in his new, shabby efficiency, which was all he could afford on what was left of his police severance pay, he had opened it.
The Dragon’s eye had filled the bottom. He hadn’t seen it since his father had died twenty years ago, then though it hadn’t been glowing. Nor had pidery words of gold flashed across its surface. Not thinking, he had reached out.
The words, ‘In service to all’, had filled his head, sounding as if they came from a hundred different throats speaking all at once. The images had come after. Images of teeth, armor, a massive battle, and flying high in the sky had crashed into his head with a clarity that he almost felt it. Wind had filled his ears and the hilt of a sword had filled his hand. The sensation of flying had stolen away everything else. Then it was gone. For a brief moment it seemed as if he had been somewhere else, doing something he had done before.
Using a pencil, he had picked up the medallion and placed it on the table. Now it wasn’t glowing and no words marked the face of the stone. To Micah’s eyes it looked perfectly ordinary, just a bit of odd red stone surrounded by gold.
Looking out his small greasy window he saw snow. I’m still in Chicago. Did I imagine it? Turning his thoughts inward he tried dredging up more memories from his father’s stories about the medallion.
Nothing that mentioned glowing came to mind, but he remembered several about duty to one’s people. According to his father, every time the medallion had been passed on to its next wearer, the one before had died, as the story went, ‘In service to all’.
Tentatively, Micah reached out and flicked the medallion with a fingernail and jerked his hand back as if it had been stung. Nothing happened.
The sudden jerk, he realized was just reflexive adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was no pulse of warmth, no flickering letters, no sense of flying. The amulet just lay there. Feeling rather silly, he reached out with his fingertips, tracing the top of the cold stone. Nothing. Taking a chance, he rested his palm on it.
Looking at his hand, Micah decided he must have dozed off. He didn’t remember falling asleep, though for a few moments his mind had seemed a little murky. In his head, he saw the spidery words of gold form again, and not thinking, palm still on the stone he mumbled the saying he had learned from his father who had learned it from his. “In service to all.”
White light exploded in his head as the golden words faded. Suddenly the dragon’s eye began pulsing with a strong steady rhythm. It took him a moment before he realized that the cold stone now felt like a beating heart throbbing under his hand. A myriad of swirling colors shot out of the medallion. In startled surprise, he watched as they wrapped about his body like a glowing blanket. Completely covered in the glowing nimbus, Micah felt the pressure of the light on his skin, like a calm caress.
Suddenly it was like a thousand hands grabbed him all at once. Fear seized him and he tried desperately to remove his hand from the stone but found that he couldn’t. In fascinated horror, he watched as the dragon’s eye grew infinitely larger and the light around him grew brighter and brighter.
The red stone filling his vision changed. Now, it didn’t look a stone anymore. Instead it looked like an eye, a large eye at least the size of his head. Unable to move, Micah saw it rotate in a slow circle. A large slitted black pupil slowly came into view and blinked.
Throwing himself backwards, Micah knew he should have crashed head over heels over the top of his couch, but it wasn’t there. In fact nothing was there and he landed hard, flat on his back. Scampering crab-like across bare stone under him, he moved backward until his head hit a stone wall. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Micah found himself shaking his head, trying to remove the swirling images.
The stars faded but the image didn’t, he found himself muttering, “What the hell..” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing and gaped incredulously. A gigantic shape occupied a very large chamber. Slowly, he moved his eyes down a serpentine body covered in blood red scales and saw spikes running half way down the ridgeline forming its neck and back. Turning his gaze sharply back towards the head, he saw what looked like hundreds of glittering daggers filling a large mouth and two large red eyes staring back at him.
He knew what it was, but it was impossible. Dragons didn’t exist, especially not in Chicago. They aren’t real and only exist in fairy tales. He had given up on his belief in them when he was still a child. An irrational thought scurried across his mind and he morbidly wondered, why isn’t it trying to eat me?
Glancing back at its large body he saw that it was being held in place by golden chains with large manacles on its taloned feet. Also, the ceiling of the large stone chamber was too low for it to unfurl its gigantic wings.
I must be sleeping. This can’t be real! I fell asleep staring at that silly stone, thinking about my father’s silly stories.
Instead of moving out of range of the massive beast’s head he started walking towards it.
Since this is a dream, it can’t hurt me. He kept walking until he was next to the golden chains. Micah heard the rasping sound of scales sliding over stone as the dragon moved, following his progress with its wedge shaped head. Momentarily, he met the dragon’s stare and the intense look made him feel as if it was trying to see into his soul. Panic wormed its way through his insides and he thought, Even if this is a dream, that thing is frightening.
Bending low he examined the chains and felt a tingling sensation sweep through his body as he spotted strange writing on them. Sort of like a moving itch crawling across his skin, it seemed to be emanating from the chains. Drawing back, Micah slowly reached out with his fingers until he almost touched the golden surface and saw the strange writing begin to glow.
A voice rumbled in his ears, filling the room. “If you can feel the chains without touching them, I wouldn’t do that.”
Micah jerked his hand back to his side. Spinning, eyes wide with astonishment, he gaped, “You can talk?”
The dragon drew back its massive head, as if it had been slapped and almost hit the ceiling. In what he thought was an affronted tone, it said, its voice dripping with sarcasm, “Of course I can talk, stupid human.” Growling, it rolled its eyes. “I always forget, despite your years, how ignorant you men of the blood are when you first come over from your other world. Well, that will change, if you live long enough.” It grumbled the last part as if it didn’t expect Micah to hear, but even though the words were low, they still echoed through his ears like a distant thunder.
“What is it?” Micah scoffed, his mouth forming a smirk. “Magic, magic’s not real and I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“If you don’t believe me, man of the blood, go ahead, touch them.” The dragon’s voice held ominous tone. Micah glanced at it and saw its lips drawn back in a grin of glittering white teeth that made his blood run cold. “But,” it said warningly, “they are powerful enough to hold me.”
Micah swept his eyes again down the massive scaled body, rippling with powerful muscles and his smirk faded into a wan smile. Slowly his hand dropped back to his side.
Doubt began creeping through him and he glanced about again at his surroundings. Stone walls and flagstones did not fill his Chicago apartment. Magical Chains, he thought. His gaze fell again on the beast. A dragon. Sweeping his head about, staring at his surroundings, he mumbled, “Where the hell am I?”
“Most humans call this Illanor. Although I don’t think man of the blood, that you will find any here willing to welcome you!” The dragon’s voice hardened as it snapped off the last of its words with a click of teeth, making them sound like a curse. “Most, humans and dragons alike,” it growled in a low, angry snarl, “would probably be grateful now to see you dead!”
“Why?” blurted Micah before he could stop himself, “I didn’t do anything, at least nothing here.” Could a dream creature, know about why I’m nott allowed to be a police officer anymore? ‘According to you, I just got here.”
The dragon’s wedge shaped head snapped down, and before Micah could blink, they were eye to eye. He didn’t have to be told that the glare in its large eyes was anger. Fear shivered through him, and he found his feet frozen to the stone floor, unable to move.
In a voice that filled the room with menace, the dragon snapped, “That’s right man of the blood, you did nothing!”
Micah could see its long teeth glittering in the room’s pale light as they came together in a vicious snap, inches away from his face.
“You didn’t wear the medallion like you were instructed to and you didn’t answer the summons when you were called nine years ago. You didn’t do anything and now thousands of humans and hundreds of dragons have died because of you.” The dragon’s words hissed through the air like a whip’s lash and Micah found himself flinching in spite of himself.
“After the Griega came, led by Allenar, only a few dragons and their riders escaped their purge, not many, and not enough to matter. They couldn’t really do anything without you anyway.”
The dragon’s head swept out over the chains and then snapped back in front of him causing him to jump. In a condemning tone it said, “And I have been a prisoner here, trapped in these chains for nine years unable to help, unable to stop the deaths, all because you did nothing!”
Micah found himself leaping through the air as an angry jet of flame shot out of the dragon’s nostrils, nearly incinerating him. Ripping off his burning shirt, he heard the dragon’s angry voice fade. Shaking its head, it finished sadly, “We should have been there to save them, man of the blood. Now almost all have died without us because you did nothing.”
Chapter 2
“What did you do,” the dragon growled disgustly, “leave it in a box somewhere?”
Flushing guiltily, Micah ran his hand through his dark brown hair.
“You did, didn’t you!” exclaimed the dragon incredulously, another small jet of irritated fire blew out its nostrils. Not waiting for a response, its growling voice raised several octaves, “Weren’t you told by your father, man of the blood, to wear it at all times? Weren’t you told that you had a duty and an obligation to the people of this land, that you could be called at any time to fulfill it?”
Again Micah flushed, this time with anger instead of guilt.
“How dare you talk to me this way!” Waving his hand around at the room he met the dragon glare to glare. “None of this is real, this is all a dream. Dragon’s don’t exist and Illanor is a place of make believe, a fairy tale made up by my deranged father.”
The lines around the dragon’s mouth drew upwards. It was hard to tell because of all its long teeth, but he thought it was smiling.
“A dream huh?” it answered, echoing his words. “And none of this is real? I am nothing but a figment of your imagination, a child’s storytale made up for you by Benjamin?”
The dragon’s words came and Micah thought that the beast sounded offended. He saw something unrecognizable gleam momentarily in the dragon’s eyes and that’s all it was. A moment.
Before he could blink the dragon’s head shot forward in a blur of movement and seized him in its jaws. Long teeth clamped down over his body and thinking he was about to die he screamed in terror. The beast tossed its head sideways and suddenly he was flying through the air towards one of its clawed feet.
He tried, as he had been taught, to roll with the impact, but didn’t succeed. Air exploded out his lungs as he landed hard on the stone floor. Fear overwhelmed him and he tried scrambling away, but a bone white talon caught him by the legs and knocked his feet out from under him. He would have tried crawling out of the angry beast’s reach but couldn’t. The same talon pinned his chest to the stone. Staring fearfully at the hooked talon, Micah suddenly realized he was not waking up like you were supposed to when you were about to die in a dream.
Growling, the dragon deftly moved its talon down his chest.
Micah watched in fascinated terror as it carefully popped the buttons from his shirt.
Placing the large bone white talon against his bare skin, the dragon snarled, “I am no dream dragon rider, and this is no fairy tale created by Benjamin. Hot, fetid breath washed over his face and it was all Micah could do to keep from crying out in fear as its teeth gnashed together. Suddenly the dragon’s eye pulsed a bright red glow and the dragon drew back in shock, its eyes wide and released him.
“Even though I would like to kill you man of the blood, I am not permitted. Get out of here, you’re a disgrace and the sight of you disgusts me!”
Twice he had heard the name and trying to pull the tattered remains of his shirt back over his exposed chest Micah asked, “How do you know my father’s name?”
The dragon’s head wheeled back around, its eyes wide with surprise. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” demanded Micah, not entirely sure what he was asking for.
The dragon eyed him carefully, its red eyes staring at him so hard that it looked as if it was trying to see into his soul. Finally it spoke, “Your father was the last rider who did his duty when needed.” Its expression changed to one of scorn and it finished, “Unlike some, he answered the call.”
Now Micah gaped incredulously. “My father has been here?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Thinking back to how vividly his father had described his stories, Micah realized that the dragon had to be telling the truth.
Changing the subject, the dragon growled, “Have you ever even held a sword Man of the blood?” It fixed him with a skeptical eye that held a look that said it thought it already knew the answer. “Can you defend yourself in any sort of way?”
Micah thought back to the hapkido lessons he had taken years ago when he had been a teenager. Then he had been proficient with a sword but that had been years ago. He was better now with a baton, thanks to his police training but still. He had never had to use the thing and couldn’t remember the last time he had stepped into the ring in a real fight.
“Not since I was a young man to the first question, and some to the second.” He answered, hoping the dragon didn’t detect the doubt in his voice.
“The dragon’s eye,” the dragon pointed with a long talon at the medallion clasped in his hand, “is what the Griega are seeking. They already have the tooth and if they can capture the eye and find the heart there will be no stopping them. Thanks to your forefathers, who also did their duty, the dragon’s eye was transferred to a place beyond their reach. Out of anger they destroyed the surrounding city here and ruined the lands.” The dragon paused and let out a long breath and laid its head down on the stone floor.
“The winged riders called for you to come when the destruction began and bring the eye, so that they would have someone to lead them, but the summons was never answered. You, Micah Williams are a descendant of the first rider. Your ancestors, in order to protect the eye were transferred through its magic to another plane of existence in order to keep it safe. Didn’t your father tell you any of this?”
Micah found himself shaking his head yes, but mumbled, “I didn’t believe him, and there was no proof, except this.” He held up the stone. “Until today, it never did anything. I thought my father had made up all those tales.” Micah found himself eyeing the stone in his hand warily, “What does it do?”
The dragon’s head lowered again until it was eye to eye with him. “If the Griega take over here and gain control of the heart and the eye, Allenar can open portals to other worlds. The closest one to this one is yours. More than likely he will start with it. If you have an heir he will kill him first, that way the eye can’t be passed on to another after he finishes with you. Do you have any other heirs, Micah Williams?”
Micha’s mind flashed back to his ten year old son, Jared, living with his mother and new stepfather and slowly nodded.
“All it will take,” the dragon said in a direct manner, “is killing you here, then the stone will pass through your blood to the next in your line. The Griega can use the heart and follow that line to your world. I’m sure with what you didn’t believe from your own father’s mouth, you probably never passed on any of your heritage to your son.”
Micah shook his head no, thinking back. He had told Mariynn about the stories from his father and they both had agreed that his son didn’t need to know about his father’s deranged nonsense of other worlds and protectors.
Realizing that possibly he might not be dreaming, Micah decided to take a chance. “And since I am supposed to know you and you know my name, what is your name?”
The great dragon eyed him carefully and to Micah’s eyes it felt as if he was being measured from head to toe and then some before the beast finally answered. “My name, Man of the Blood, is Noraxxis.”
‘In service to all.’
The golden words had flashed across the face of the redstone medallion his father had called the Dragon’s eye. Micah had never seen it act the way it had today.
Sitting alone at the table, he remembered some of the old stories his father had told him about the stone and why he always wore it. When he had been twelve, in their shoddy little trailer just outside of Chicago, his father had told him that they were men of the blood. That he was a man of the blood. That they served as the protectors of a land called Illanor and that possibly, someday, he could be called to fulfill his duty. Although, according to his father, none had in several generations.
Micah remembered laughing at his father’s fanciful stories about the Dragonworld. Also, he had searched a world atlas from top to bottom and couldn’t find any land or city called Illanor.
A hard line creased his forehead as he stared at the medallion. He had laughed at age twelve. Now, twenty six years later, he was not laughing.
At eighteen, he had sworn to his father to always wear the medallion, but had stopped after his father had died. Until today, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen it.
Now, staring at the golden medallion with its deep red stone as if it were a viper that had tried to bite him, he wondered, if it already had. Turning, he looked at the box where he had found it and laughed bitterly. Maryinn, his ex wife, must have put it in there. Shaking his head he remembered she hadn’t believed his father’s stories either.
The box had been warm though, he had felt the heat. Not wanting a fire in his new, shabby efficiency, which was all he could afford on what was left of his police severance pay, he had opened it.
The Dragon’s eye had filled the bottom. He hadn’t seen it since his father had died twenty years ago, then though it hadn’t been glowing. Nor had pidery words of gold flashed across its surface. Not thinking, he had reached out.
The words, ‘In service to all’, had filled his head, sounding as if they came from a hundred different throats speaking all at once. The images had come after. Images of teeth, armor, a massive battle, and flying high in the sky had crashed into his head with a clarity that he almost felt it. Wind had filled his ears and the hilt of a sword had filled his hand. The sensation of flying had stolen away everything else. Then it was gone. For a brief moment it seemed as if he had been somewhere else, doing something he had done before.
Using a pencil, he had picked up the medallion and placed it on the table. Now it wasn’t glowing and no words marked the face of the stone. To Micah’s eyes it looked perfectly ordinary, just a bit of odd red stone surrounded by gold.
Looking out his small greasy window he saw snow. I’m still in Chicago. Did I imagine it? Turning his thoughts inward he tried dredging up more memories from his father’s stories about the medallion.
Nothing that mentioned glowing came to mind, but he remembered several about duty to one’s people. According to his father, every time the medallion had been passed on to its next wearer, the one before had died, as the story went, ‘In service to all’.
Tentatively, Micah reached out and flicked the medallion with a fingernail and jerked his hand back as if it had been stung. Nothing happened.
The sudden jerk, he realized was just reflexive adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was no pulse of warmth, no flickering letters, no sense of flying. The amulet just lay there. Feeling rather silly, he reached out with his fingertips, tracing the top of the cold stone. Nothing. Taking a chance, he rested his palm on it.
Looking at his hand, Micah decided he must have dozed off. He didn’t remember falling asleep, though for a few moments his mind had seemed a little murky. In his head, he saw the spidery words of gold form again, and not thinking, palm still on the stone he mumbled the saying he had learned from his father who had learned it from his. “In service to all.”
White light exploded in his head as the golden words faded. Suddenly the dragon’s eye began pulsing with a strong steady rhythm. It took him a moment before he realized that the cold stone now felt like a beating heart throbbing under his hand. A myriad of swirling colors shot out of the medallion. In startled surprise, he watched as they wrapped about his body like a glowing blanket. Completely covered in the glowing nimbus, Micah felt the pressure of the light on his skin, like a calm caress.
Suddenly it was like a thousand hands grabbed him all at once. Fear seized him and he tried desperately to remove his hand from the stone but found that he couldn’t. In fascinated horror, he watched as the dragon’s eye grew infinitely larger and the light around him grew brighter and brighter.
The red stone filling his vision changed. Now, it didn’t look a stone anymore. Instead it looked like an eye, a large eye at least the size of his head. Unable to move, Micah saw it rotate in a slow circle. A large slitted black pupil slowly came into view and blinked.
Throwing himself backwards, Micah knew he should have crashed head over heels over the top of his couch, but it wasn’t there. In fact nothing was there and he landed hard, flat on his back. Scampering crab-like across bare stone under him, he moved backward until his head hit a stone wall. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Micah found himself shaking his head, trying to remove the swirling images.
The stars faded but the image didn’t, he found himself muttering, “What the hell..” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing and gaped incredulously. A gigantic shape occupied a very large chamber. Slowly, he moved his eyes down a serpentine body covered in blood red scales and saw spikes running half way down the ridgeline forming its neck and back. Turning his gaze sharply back towards the head, he saw what looked like hundreds of glittering daggers filling a large mouth and two large red eyes staring back at him.
He knew what it was, but it was impossible. Dragons didn’t exist, especially not in Chicago. They aren’t real and only exist in fairy tales. He had given up on his belief in them when he was still a child. An irrational thought scurried across his mind and he morbidly wondered, why isn’t it trying to eat me?
Glancing back at its large body he saw that it was being held in place by golden chains with large manacles on its taloned feet. Also, the ceiling of the large stone chamber was too low for it to unfurl its gigantic wings.
I must be sleeping. This can’t be real! I fell asleep staring at that silly stone, thinking about my father’s silly stories.
Instead of moving out of range of the massive beast’s head he started walking towards it.
Since this is a dream, it can’t hurt me. He kept walking until he was next to the golden chains. Micah heard the rasping sound of scales sliding over stone as the dragon moved, following his progress with its wedge shaped head. Momentarily, he met the dragon’s stare and the intense look made him feel as if it was trying to see into his soul. Panic wormed its way through his insides and he thought, Even if this is a dream, that thing is frightening.
Bending low he examined the chains and felt a tingling sensation sweep through his body as he spotted strange writing on them. Sort of like a moving itch crawling across his skin, it seemed to be emanating from the chains. Drawing back, Micah slowly reached out with his fingers until he almost touched the golden surface and saw the strange writing begin to glow.
A voice rumbled in his ears, filling the room. “If you can feel the chains without touching them, I wouldn’t do that.”
Micah jerked his hand back to his side. Spinning, eyes wide with astonishment, he gaped, “You can talk?”
The dragon drew back its massive head, as if it had been slapped and almost hit the ceiling. In what he thought was an affronted tone, it said, its voice dripping with sarcasm, “Of course I can talk, stupid human.” Growling, it rolled its eyes. “I always forget, despite your years, how ignorant you men of the blood are when you first come over from your other world. Well, that will change, if you live long enough.” It grumbled the last part as if it didn’t expect Micah to hear, but even though the words were low, they still echoed through his ears like a distant thunder.
“What is it?” Micah scoffed, his mouth forming a smirk. “Magic, magic’s not real and I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“If you don’t believe me, man of the blood, go ahead, touch them.” The dragon’s voice held ominous tone. Micah glanced at it and saw its lips drawn back in a grin of glittering white teeth that made his blood run cold. “But,” it said warningly, “they are powerful enough to hold me.”
Micah swept his eyes again down the massive scaled body, rippling with powerful muscles and his smirk faded into a wan smile. Slowly his hand dropped back to his side.
Doubt began creeping through him and he glanced about again at his surroundings. Stone walls and flagstones did not fill his Chicago apartment. Magical Chains, he thought. His gaze fell again on the beast. A dragon. Sweeping his head about, staring at his surroundings, he mumbled, “Where the hell am I?”
“Most humans call this Illanor. Although I don’t think man of the blood, that you will find any here willing to welcome you!” The dragon’s voice hardened as it snapped off the last of its words with a click of teeth, making them sound like a curse. “Most, humans and dragons alike,” it growled in a low, angry snarl, “would probably be grateful now to see you dead!”
“Why?” blurted Micah before he could stop himself, “I didn’t do anything, at least nothing here.” Could a dream creature, know about why I’m nott allowed to be a police officer anymore? ‘According to you, I just got here.”
The dragon’s wedge shaped head snapped down, and before Micah could blink, they were eye to eye. He didn’t have to be told that the glare in its large eyes was anger. Fear shivered through him, and he found his feet frozen to the stone floor, unable to move.
In a voice that filled the room with menace, the dragon snapped, “That’s right man of the blood, you did nothing!”
Micah could see its long teeth glittering in the room’s pale light as they came together in a vicious snap, inches away from his face.
“You didn’t wear the medallion like you were instructed to and you didn’t answer the summons when you were called nine years ago. You didn’t do anything and now thousands of humans and hundreds of dragons have died because of you.” The dragon’s words hissed through the air like a whip’s lash and Micah found himself flinching in spite of himself.
“After the Griega came, led by Allenar, only a few dragons and their riders escaped their purge, not many, and not enough to matter. They couldn’t really do anything without you anyway.”
The dragon’s head swept out over the chains and then snapped back in front of him causing him to jump. In a condemning tone it said, “And I have been a prisoner here, trapped in these chains for nine years unable to help, unable to stop the deaths, all because you did nothing!”
Micah found himself leaping through the air as an angry jet of flame shot out of the dragon’s nostrils, nearly incinerating him. Ripping off his burning shirt, he heard the dragon’s angry voice fade. Shaking its head, it finished sadly, “We should have been there to save them, man of the blood. Now almost all have died without us because you did nothing.”
Chapter 2
“What did you do,” the dragon growled disgustly, “leave it in a box somewhere?”
Flushing guiltily, Micah ran his hand through his dark brown hair.
“You did, didn’t you!” exclaimed the dragon incredulously, another small jet of irritated fire blew out its nostrils. Not waiting for a response, its growling voice raised several octaves, “Weren’t you told by your father, man of the blood, to wear it at all times? Weren’t you told that you had a duty and an obligation to the people of this land, that you could be called at any time to fulfill it?”
Again Micah flushed, this time with anger instead of guilt.
“How dare you talk to me this way!” Waving his hand around at the room he met the dragon glare to glare. “None of this is real, this is all a dream. Dragon’s don’t exist and Illanor is a place of make believe, a fairy tale made up by my deranged father.”
The lines around the dragon’s mouth drew upwards. It was hard to tell because of all its long teeth, but he thought it was smiling.
“A dream huh?” it answered, echoing his words. “And none of this is real? I am nothing but a figment of your imagination, a child’s storytale made up for you by Benjamin?”
The dragon’s words came and Micah thought that the beast sounded offended. He saw something unrecognizable gleam momentarily in the dragon’s eyes and that’s all it was. A moment.
Before he could blink the dragon’s head shot forward in a blur of movement and seized him in its jaws. Long teeth clamped down over his body and thinking he was about to die he screamed in terror. The beast tossed its head sideways and suddenly he was flying through the air towards one of its clawed feet.
He tried, as he had been taught, to roll with the impact, but didn’t succeed. Air exploded out his lungs as he landed hard on the stone floor. Fear overwhelmed him and he tried scrambling away, but a bone white talon caught him by the legs and knocked his feet out from under him. He would have tried crawling out of the angry beast’s reach but couldn’t. The same talon pinned his chest to the stone. Staring fearfully at the hooked talon, Micah suddenly realized he was not waking up like you were supposed to when you were about to die in a dream.
Growling, the dragon deftly moved its talon down his chest.
Micah watched in fascinated terror as it carefully popped the buttons from his shirt.
Placing the large bone white talon against his bare skin, the dragon snarled, “I am no dream dragon rider, and this is no fairy tale created by Benjamin. Hot, fetid breath washed over his face and it was all Micah could do to keep from crying out in fear as its teeth gnashed together. Suddenly the dragon’s eye pulsed a bright red glow and the dragon drew back in shock, its eyes wide and released him.
“Even though I would like to kill you man of the blood, I am not permitted. Get out of here, you’re a disgrace and the sight of you disgusts me!”
Twice he had heard the name and trying to pull the tattered remains of his shirt back over his exposed chest Micah asked, “How do you know my father’s name?”
The dragon’s head wheeled back around, its eyes wide with surprise. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” demanded Micah, not entirely sure what he was asking for.
The dragon eyed him carefully, its red eyes staring at him so hard that it looked as if it was trying to see into his soul. Finally it spoke, “Your father was the last rider who did his duty when needed.” Its expression changed to one of scorn and it finished, “Unlike some, he answered the call.”
Now Micah gaped incredulously. “My father has been here?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Thinking back to how vividly his father had described his stories, Micah realized that the dragon had to be telling the truth.
Changing the subject, the dragon growled, “Have you ever even held a sword Man of the blood?” It fixed him with a skeptical eye that held a look that said it thought it already knew the answer. “Can you defend yourself in any sort of way?”
Micah thought back to the hapkido lessons he had taken years ago when he had been a teenager. Then he had been proficient with a sword but that had been years ago. He was better now with a baton, thanks to his police training but still. He had never had to use the thing and couldn’t remember the last time he had stepped into the ring in a real fight.
“Not since I was a young man to the first question, and some to the second.” He answered, hoping the dragon didn’t detect the doubt in his voice.
“The dragon’s eye,” the dragon pointed with a long talon at the medallion clasped in his hand, “is what the Griega are seeking. They already have the tooth and if they can capture the eye and find the heart there will be no stopping them. Thanks to your forefathers, who also did their duty, the dragon’s eye was transferred to a place beyond their reach. Out of anger they destroyed the surrounding city here and ruined the lands.” The dragon paused and let out a long breath and laid its head down on the stone floor.
“The winged riders called for you to come when the destruction began and bring the eye, so that they would have someone to lead them, but the summons was never answered. You, Micah Williams are a descendant of the first rider. Your ancestors, in order to protect the eye were transferred through its magic to another plane of existence in order to keep it safe. Didn’t your father tell you any of this?”
Micah found himself shaking his head yes, but mumbled, “I didn’t believe him, and there was no proof, except this.” He held up the stone. “Until today, it never did anything. I thought my father had made up all those tales.” Micah found himself eyeing the stone in his hand warily, “What does it do?”
The dragon’s head lowered again until it was eye to eye with him. “If the Griega take over here and gain control of the heart and the eye, Allenar can open portals to other worlds. The closest one to this one is yours. More than likely he will start with it. If you have an heir he will kill him first, that way the eye can’t be passed on to another after he finishes with you. Do you have any other heirs, Micah Williams?”
Micha’s mind flashed back to his ten year old son, Jared, living with his mother and new stepfather and slowly nodded.
“All it will take,” the dragon said in a direct manner, “is killing you here, then the stone will pass through your blood to the next in your line. The Griega can use the heart and follow that line to your world. I’m sure with what you didn’t believe from your own father’s mouth, you probably never passed on any of your heritage to your son.”
Micah shook his head no, thinking back. He had told Mariynn about the stories from his father and they both had agreed that his son didn’t need to know about his father’s deranged nonsense of other worlds and protectors.
Realizing that possibly he might not be dreaming, Micah decided to take a chance. “And since I am supposed to know you and you know my name, what is your name?”
The great dragon eyed him carefully and to Micah’s eyes it felt as if he was being measured from head to toe and then some before the beast finally answered. “My name, Man of the Blood, is Noraxxis.”
