Illarion: Chapter 1

A deep canyon weaved its way through a maze of stone walls. Tall evergreen giants filled the landscape, as if guardians to the underbrush. Dark green grass flourished in its valleys. A stream followed the path of the canyon, forging through the gorge, and out into the unknown. At its end a high cliff stood, cutting off the outside.

“The wind shifts often, carrying what’s not tied down, off into the distance, and in essence, away from us. Sometimes, we are forced to make a choice to either tie down what’s left, forgetting what was lost, or risk what’s not tied down yet, and go after whatever it was that was blown away.”

Dragon’s Run was what the place was called. What it really was was a paradise specifically for the draconian kind. It was a safe haven, away from humans. White dragons secluded themselves away from the others, staying close to the bottom of The Run, away from the more aggressive dragons. They were the scholars of the three; wise, and often visited by the Royals. They offered their advice, and were always looked on with admiration. The Red avoided them, knowing that they would be chastised on sight. Two other breeds dwelt in Dragon’s Run.

“Why does it shift? Where does the wind come from? Tell me more.”

One, was the rather infamous, Red dragon; A volatile and often violent species. Red dragons were colossal creatures, with claws as black as the night sky. Their eyes were always narrowed, and angry. Gold rimmed their ebony eyes. The other dragons felt they were best suited as sentries and guards, and chose to keep them a distance away, towards the opening of the canyon.

The other was the Black dragon; judicious descendants of ancient royal lineage. Other strains existed outside of the Run, but were nameless, and deeply shrouded in mystery and legend. The Black dragons were descendants of the now extinct Greater Dragons. Feared for their power, the humans went to war against them, and wiped them out in the oldest war to have been recorded. Large white dorsal scales adorned their broad and spiny back, while the White dragons had golden scales. Their eyes were always blue.

“Be patient, Illarion. I will explain it. Give this old dragon time to finish with the lesson at hand. Now, where was I? Oh yes! It is the job of the Royal Black dragons to fully understand this concept. Rarely will one ever have to employ it, but there will come a time one will be forced to. Be it one of the dragons wanders off or there is a raid on Dragon’s run, and one of the dragons is taken. Remember this, Illarion: For every action there is a reaction.”

Humans and dragons would never coexist. That was the common belief of both species. Humans despised the dragons and envied their power and might. Dragons detested humans for their uncontrollable thirst for power, and the way they so disgracefully waged war, using other beasts to do their bidding.

Below the cliff, a ring of Black dragons was forming. A council meeting was soon to be in session. The White dragons were already standing inside the ring, discussing what was to be said, and how it should be stated. One of the Black dragons flared his wings out to their fullest extent as he landed outside the circle. His wings delicately folded in across his chest as he stepped into the gathering circle. His mighty golden horns glistened in the warm sunlight.

“Why would the humans raid Dragon’s Run? They’re afraid of us, aren’t they?”

The Black dragon dwarfed all others. His golden horns beamed like a solid crown upon his head. His azure eyes sparkled as he tipped his head skyward, watching his mate land with preciseness and ease. Her stature was that of a male Black dragon, of non royal decent. She herself, was of royal blood, and like her mate, was much larger than the other Black dragons. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she examined each of the gathered dragons.

“Illarion, you must understand that we are feared because we are powerful. The humans war between themselves often, and are in need of greater power than their opponent. In that need, they overcome their fear with a thirst for power, and hunt us. I’m sorry, but I must depart now, and join the meeting. I am, after all, not just a teacher. I’m the King’s Advisor.”

The White dragon dropped down from the cliff top, and stretched out his almost mystical white wings. His eyes were gray, and his skin was wrinkled and sagging. A White dragon of great age was often looked at in high authority. His wings were scarred, yet he elegantly dropped down and landed, folding his wings across his chest like the others. He held his head high as he joined the group and stood beside the King and Queen.

A small Royal Black dragon stood up and looked over the edge of the cliff, watching the White dragon descend. Many of the dragons below were at least three hundred years old. The White dragon was five hundred and forty two. Illarion was only twenty three. He turned and left, discreetly climbing down one of the canyon walls. The King looked up and spotted him.

“Illarion, my son, come and join us. It is time that you assert yourself as a prince. Please take a stand by your mother.”

“Yes, father.”

Illarion scrambled down the wall side and moved jerkily towards his mother, the Queen, Irana. Ardion, his father, stood watching him from the corner of his eye. The White dragons murmured amongst themselves, for a moment, until the King’s Advisor stepped forward.

“I have felt a strange wind blowing as of late.” The other White dragons nodded, and mumbled their agreement.

“The humans ceased to torment us how long ago now? Do you not find this strange, that we have seen hide nor hair of them?”

One of the Black dragons stepped forth. “Gorasin, I feel you are giving humans too much credit. They cannot plot against us. If they are too busy warring with each other, wouldn’t it be unwise for them to make war with us too?”

Gorasin shook his frail head. “You are giving the humans much less credit than they deserve. I have lived far beyond your years, and seen what they can do. I worry that our safe haven just might become our demise.”

The king interjected. “So you are saying we should leave this paradise? Go and search for somewhere else?”

“No-“

The Black dragon interrupted with a grunt. “Then, what are you saying, old one?”

The king interjected once more. “Do not disrespect Gorasin!”

The White dragon continued. “As I was saying, I do not believe we should leave. I simply believe that it would be best to watch them somehow, without them knowing they are being watched.”

“That isn’t possible. I don’t think the humans are so dull as to look up in the sky, see a dragon circling overhead, and continue on merrily with a discussion.”

“So then we send a spy.”

“What?! How on earth do you suppose we do that?!”

Illarion put his foot forward to step up, but his father sent him a look that stopped him. The king then stepped out of the circle. “Meeting adjourned. I must speak with my advisor.” He then swung around and stomped off towards the Black dragon territory. Gorasin followed him. Irana and Illarion stayed behind to talk, mother to son.

Illarion started by be raiding Irana. “Why was I not allowed to speak? I was invited, wasn’t I? Perhaps I had something perfectly admissible to say!”

“If you opened your mouth there, you would have been looked at as a fool. Would you want that, Illarion?”

“No.”

“Then there’s nothing more to discuss of this topic. Let us speak of more important things.”

“Like what?”

“Like you becoming King soon. You know very well that the time when your father goes on to the Royal Valley is near. He will need an heir to guide Dragon’s Run for the time that he is away.”

“What is the Royal Valley? I’ve never heard of it.”

“I thought Gorasin informed you… It is a secret that most dragons don’t know about, and it will stay that way. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“It is the meeting place of all the Royal Black dragons. They will be there for at least two years, retraining as rulers. Your father is to stay there, as one of the head council members. During this time, I must be there with your father, and you must stay here and lead.”

Illarion gave his mother a downcast look and turned away. Beneath his sad expression, a storm was brewing.

“Why must I lead? I’m only twenty-three! Most of the Black dragons here are three hundred! I will be mocked and ignored!”

“That is why you will be staying in the company of Red dragons. They have offered up one of their sentries to follow you.”

“You mean baby-sit me.”

“Well, if you prefer to call it that, yes.”

“Mother, I don’t want to be followed around by one of those brainless henchmen!”

Illarion flared his wings and stomped off, leaving Irana speechless. Dragons milled about the Run all day, going on in their lives like they always did. That night, Illarion climbed up the face of the cliff silently. He didn’t want to be seen or heard. He just wanted to be left alone, like always.

His claws dug into the rock surface on top of the cliff, and he pulled himself up over the edge. A ghostly white face greeted him at the top.

“Ah, Illarion, I was looking for you.”

“Ah! Why you ethereal old stalker! What are you doing up here?!”

“Waiting for you, you disrespectful little hatchling. It took you long enough. I suppose your mother told you about the Royal Valley?”

“What is it to you?”

“Oh, not too much, I just thought you may want to talk to someone.”

“No, I don’t.”

Illarion stood up and stared into the star filled sky. A full moon, in all its magnificence stared back at him.

“You know, the only way to prove your worth as a king, is to become king and prove your worth. As you already know, actions speak louder than any kind of speech I’ve taught you. I don’t care if I marched up and told them you were sent from heaven yourself. They’d nod their heads, and then leave, not taking one word I said into mind.”

“So you’re backing my mother and father on this then?”

“Yes.” Gorasin stood up and stretched, then took off into the night sky, heading to where ever it was where the White dragons slept.

Morning came with the sound of the clamor below, like always. Illarion shifted in his sleep, atop the cliff. The sky was a drab bluish gray, and most of the dragons waited silently for the life giving rain to come down. After all, the fields were dry, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Gorasin tended to his small garden, set aside near the base of the cliff. All sorts of vegetables were grown there. Most humans would surmise that dragons were all carnivorous. That was a misnomer.

The elderly dragon smiled to himself as he examined the tomatoes in the back. In front of the tomatoes, were the cucumbers, then the eggplants, and lastly the bare patch of dirt where he was soon to be planting a pumpkin patch.

Gorasin looked up just in time to see Illarion take off into the sky. The soft gray under-belly seemed dull compared to the dazzling jet black scales everywhere else. Gorasin wished that Illarion would grow up if even for just a little while, and realize his potential as the next royal dragon.