Chapter 1
Jackson couldn’t believe that his eighteenth birthday was mere days away. Family was coming to visit from all over, which rarely happened.
“Make sure that you’re ready,” his Mum told him for the umpteenth time.
“I am!” he beamed with his biggest smile.
“Good. They’ll be here at any time now.”
Jackson blinked back at her, shocked. “They’re coming today?”
“Yeah. They’ll be here for the week,” she announced. Forget rarely, this never happened, so he knew this was a big deal.
He smoothed down his hair, debating on whether to have a shower before visitors arrive. After getting a whiff of his under arms, and pulling a face, he quickly decided that he had better.
He let the water run down his body, as he scrubbed himself clean. He closed his eyes, protecting them from the soap. It stung like hell last time, and he was not eager for a repeat.
Finally clean, he grabbed a towel and wrapped his around his waist before pulling on clean clothes. He joined his mother in the kitchen, just as she placed a steaming cup of tea down in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said, blowing softly into his mug.
“I’m glad you showered. In a little bit, I am going to need you to grab a few things from the grocer. In the meantime, your sister will be getting ready as well; she’s thrown a strop three times already because she wants to wear something pink.”
He shrugged. “Then she can wear pink. I don’t see why not?”
His mother looked at him for a moment, before her scowl softened. “Yes, I suppose. But she has been wearing pink every day for the past two weeks. I just wanted her to wear a different colour for a change.”
He sighed. She had been wearing a lot of pink. “What about changing her hair up instead, and she can add one of your white belts around her waist to break up the pink a little?”
She nodded, half listening. “Yeah, I guess. Come on, we still have a lot to do. It’s not a party without little sausages.”
He nodded, and she handed him some money that he immediately shoved into his pockets before walking out of the door.
Outside, the sun was blazing down on the village. It had been a scorcher compared to how much rain they’ve had to endure at the beginning of the month. He looked up, vaguely seeing the dragons flying overhead. On the most part, they left the people alone.
People milled around the streets as though the shops were going to disappear at any moment. He hoped there would still be enough sausages to buy when he got there. At this rate, it’d be gone before he reached it. He frowned, already envisioning his mother’s look of disappointment.
The sun glared in his face, and he did his best to shield his eyes. As he approached the stall, he slowed down and then paused. He wasn’t there, in his usual spot. Jackson looked around, wondering what to do. Surely, someone around was selling sausages that he could have for his party. Or else, he would have to return home, empty-handed.
“Excuse me,” Jackson asked, walking up to a short merchant, nearby. He could see his greased back hair as the merchant straightened. The merchant frowned, looking through bushy brows.
“Yes, lad,” the merchant replied, he didn’t take his eyes from his box, before pulling out a long string of sausages.
“Do you have two dozen sausages?” Jackson enquired. “The ones for parties,” he added hopefully.
“The little ones? Sure.”
Jackson nodded before pulling out a handful of coins from his pockets. “How much?”
“Three coins,” the merchant replied.
Jackson hesitated and reluctantly handed his money over. Leaning forward to reach for the bag of meat, he could smell the merchant’s natural musk. It made his nose itch. Thanking the salesman, he walked away, relieved. It was a good few feet before the heavy scent of the man cleared from the air.
Back down the road, he rushed to the house. With family on the way, and his mother waiting on him, there wasn’t time to waste. Ahead, dragons circled the clouds. Something had disturbed them, and a sense of dread gripped his gut. He swallowed.
Jackson quickened his pace, eager to return home before trouble brewed in the sky. The dragons' restless circling filled him with unease, though he knew better than to dwell on it, at least, not until the dragons were disturbed. Since the dragons usually left them alone, he pushed the thoughts of worry to the back of his mind.
His family's impending arrival lifted his mood. While rare, these reunions held happy memories from his childhood - laughing cousins, tales by the fire, grandpa's wild stories. It was a welcome distraction from the village's daily concerns.
Entering the weathered porch, sausages in hand, he called out to his mother toiling in the kitchen, mixing a batch of batter. "I'm back!" His mother emerged from the kitchen, apron dusted with flour. Her face lit up at the sight of the package. "Oh, thank heavens, you found some. Now hurry and help me finish preparations before they arrive!"
As Jackson worked, his thoughts wandered to the skies. What agitated the dragons so? They usually steered clear of villages, unless... No, best not to speculate.
Still, a part of him yearned to soar amongst the clouds. A fanciful dream, of course. Dragons were fearsome beasts, not beasts to befriend.
Shaking off his thoughts, Jackson focused on tasks. Soon the cottage smelled of roasted meats and fresh baked breads. His stomach rumbled in response. All that remained was awaiting his loved ones' arrival.
Stepping onto the porch, Jackson gazed into the horizon, hoping to catch the first glimpse of wagons on the road. Instead, a lone figure approached on the windswept plains. Too distant to make out details, but its manner of travel gave him pause.
Could it be...a dragon poacher? Here? Jackson stared, intrigued and unsettled in equal measure, as the mysterious man drew nearer under the watchful eyes of dragons above, a roar erupted through the night. Arrows shot through the air, heading right towards the dragons.
Jackson's blood turned to ice at the sound of arrows piercing the sky. Dragon poachers, so near the village - was concerning.
His father, Malik, peered through the window towards the screaming villagers and his lip curled into an angry snarl. “Poachers!” he hissed. He snatched his coat from a hanger beside the door and his shot gun from a box behind the cabinet.
Through the Gathering dusk, they spied dark shapes swooping and diving as more projectiles flew. The poachers were attacking in force, clearly aiming to bring down one of the mighty beasts.
A tortured roar shook the earth as a dragon crashed somewhere beyond the hills. Jackson's hands clenched into tight balls of fists, torn between helping the dragons and putting out the flames. He shook his head. The flames can be distinguished. He knew confronting the poachers armed only with his bare hands would be suicide. For now, all he could do was watch in helpless fury as the skirmish played out above the plains.
Another scream tore through the night. Unable to standby any longer, he made up his mind. He grabbed a dagger from his father’s armoury and raced outside, ready to save the dragons. Ten steps from his childhood home, a dragon screamed, and his house was engulfed in flames. Tears burned his eyes, but he didn’t dare turn back. He only hoped they would make it out alive.
Jackson ran screaming into the battle, raising his dagger defiantly. “Leave them alone!”
One poacher, a man with short brown hair and wearing leather armor, raced towards him. He drew his sword. Jackson hesitated, wondering which one of them had the upper hand. The sword had longer reach – but he could use it to his advantage. He pressed his lips together, and ducked low, receiving only a graze from the blade’s tip, before thrusting his own weapon into the thigh of his enemy. The poacher screamed and hobbled as he tried to steady himself. Jackson wasted no time, driving a second blow into the side of the attacker’s neck. Blood sprayed from the cut. Jackson winced, feeling the warm blood spray his face. The man stopped, his eyes widened as he tried to seal his wound with his bare hand, before collapsing to the ground. Jackson tore his eyes away, focused on the battle in front of him, as his first victim fell.
When at last the battle died down, a dreadful silence fell. He headed back towards the house, covered in the blood of a few of the poachers, and fell to his knees.
