Chapter 1
HERE THERE BE DRAGONS
BY: James Seado.
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. The dragons had been banned from the valley by High Princess Edinna upon her ascension to the throne of Cathara. Needless to say, the good folk of the valley weren’t exactly pleased with her proclamation.
“What gives the princess of the highlands the right to decide what will or won’t be allowed in our valley?” they would grumble over their tankards of ale and mugs of wine and as always Tahlon the tavern keeper would listen in silent amusement as he poured their drinks and cleaned their spills, his bald head wreathed with an ever present halo of grey pipe smoke.
Like any good tavern keep he tried to understand both sides of an argument. He agreed with the valley folk that the princess of the highlands shouldn’t be making policies regarding the valley but that was the way it had always been and probably the way it would always be. Crowns will change hands, kingdoms will rise, kingdoms will fall but man’s need to rule over each other and to dominate will always be constant. It wasn’t really their fault, it was simply the way they had been made.
He could see Edinna’s side. Unlike the mountain kingdom of Montresco to the far east, where caves and cliffs and deep lakes were plentiful housing for dragons in the valley, where there were no caves or cliffs or deep, crystal clear lakes, was limited at best and downright impossible at the worst and he didn’t even want to think about the feeding of dragons. Just last month Rashaghul, over in Shadin, had eaten a farmer’s prize herd of cattle. In Rashaghul’s defense it had been the farmer’s fault, he had failed to post any sort of notice declaring the cattle were off limits for consumption by dragons. Of course, in all honesty, even if he had posted the required notices Rasha would still have eaten the cattle. It was just how the big bronze was. If Rasha sees a cow, Rasha eats the cow. End of story. Which was probably why the village magistrate had not only ordered Rasha to make restitution to the farmer but had also ordered the big lug into rehab or risk losing his holdings.
Hoping Rashaghul would finally be able to get the help for his addiction that he so desperately needed Tahlon sighs, quickly grabbing the hand carved pipe laying within reach on the bar’s scarred surface in case any of his customers should notice the wisps of smoke that leak from his long, hooked nose with his sigh.
He could understand Edinna not wanting dragons in the valley. They could be difficult neighbors to say the least, but he could also understand the valley folk’s side. If nothing else dragons were good for commerce. A dragon’s sheddings could fetch a healthy weight of gold in any marketplace and mages and healers and alchemists throughout the lands were always clamoring for dragon’s blood and dragon dung and dragon seminal fluid. Why the latter he didn’t know, he didn’t really care to know, but he couldn’t help but wonder how they collected it. And having dragons in the valley would attract adventurers by the score. Rangers and huntsmen in their deerskins and leather, knights in their gleaming armors, and naturally the princesses drawn by the lure of possibly landing a knight, all would come hoping to find fortune and fame by slaying one of the magnificent beasts, and never mindl the fact that usually the only fame they would find would be their names added to the list of deaths on their villages’ notice board. Tahlon had never met a successful dragon hunter. He was sure they existed, he had just never had the dubious pleasure of meeting one.
The clock in the corner striking the hour he glances towards it. Closing time and he watches as his customers finish their drinking, gathering their cloaks about themselves and wishing him a good night before disappearing into the night.
His eyes glittering gold in the dim light thrown by the braziers lining the walls he crosses to the tavern’s door and bars it, gathering the dirty tankards and mugs, platters and bowls and carrying them to the kitchen. He would clean them in the morning and he takes a final look around before adjusting a skillet hanging on it’s hook and stepping through the door of shelves that slide open. A tender smile coming to his lips as the door slides closed behind him he starts down the staircase that spirals into the stygian darkness below.
The more the people cried for progress the harder they clung to their old ways and Tahlon shakes his head in silent, amused befuddlement, his body shifting and altering as he descends.
The caverns stretched for miles beneath the valley floor, beneath the highlands and Tahlon unfurls his great, crimson and gold wings as he enters his home to be greeted by his family. The high princess could make her proclamations and the valley folk could argue against those proclamations, but neither side seemed to understand one simple fact.
Dragons had always been in the valley.
