The Dragon Healer

Preface

My name is Kacaba and I have been assigned to write the history of man and our intertwined relationship with the great dragons. The great Master Scribe Soto assigned three students to create independent manuscripts from which he would pick one as the book for our people to use as a historical guide. I was honored by being one of the chosen three. I plan to write the history as a story rather than a dry thesis of facts. I find stories easier to understand and much more interesting. I would like the reader to know that this is a true history, to the best of my knowledge. Much of the information was gathered from those who actually participated in the events described. I intend to give the information of our past as factually as possible in a single coherent story, created from all the information I obtained. From this point forward I will not mention myself.

Many seasons ago on the Dragon world of Tone a saga of love and magic began that gives dreams reality and hope possibility. The Dragon world was a place of beauty as well as violence and death. Tone, as its inhabitants called it, had one large continent, the interior of which was vast and unknown to humanity. Along the entire length of the eastern coast was a ridge of virtually impassable mountains with deep misty valleys between them and the high coastal cliffs. At it's widest the valley area was no more than an eleven sunrisings walk for a man. The world that was known to the humans were the misty valleys between the dual evils of the coastal dragons and the mountain Averons. Humans had lived this way for so long that only the ancient legends, told by the storytellers, explained why. The tellers would travel the land singing and chanting the stories to whomever would listen for their meals and lodgings.

Man's place in this world was one of clouds and rain, which seemed to never end. The clouds would pass over the coastal cliffs and then be stopped by the high mountains where they would gather into dark and angry masses. They would then incessantly pour their rain onto the mist-laden valleys below. This made planting food crops difficult and the people were always hard pressed to grow enough food to feed themselves. The mud always seemed to be knee deep making life a struggle from sunrising to sunrising. For a precious few full moon risings the rain would stop, allowing the plant growers to put their seeds down. The harvest though was another story, it was always done in what seemed to be the infinite wetness of the land and only a small portion of what was planted reached the hungry bellies of the people.

The humans could not venture outside their valleys for fear of becoming a meal or encountering the evil of the black Solan. It was told by legends that she controlled the hideously deformed giant black flyers known as the Averons. These flyers were the scourge of man's existence, stopping them from leaving the timeless misty valleys. Legend had it, that beyond the mountains were beautiful green fields, rivers and lakes where rain only happened when it was needed, but who could know without tempting a sure death. A few had tried never to be heard from again.