Damiynn
April 7th, 2008, 12:08 PM
Chapter 1
'In service to all.'
The words had flashed in gold letters across the face of the redstone medallion. The Dragon’s eye, his father had called it when he had been eighteen. But never in Micah’s memory had it ever acted the way it was today.
Sitting alone at the table, he remembered some of the old stories his father had told him when he had been twelve about why he always wore it. In their shoddy little trailer just outside Chicago he 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 that duty. Although, according to his father, none had in several generations.
Micah remembered laughing at his father’s fanciful stories about the Dragonworld. He had also searched the 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 when he had been twelve. Now twenty six years later, he was not laughing.
Years ago, when he turned eighteen, he had sworn to his father to always wear the medallion, but he had stopped after his father had died. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen it.
Now he stared at the redstone as if it were a viper that had tried to bite him. In a way, he thought it already had. Turning, he looked at the box where he had found it, the left over remains of his divorce. A bitter laugh parted his lips. Maryinn must have put it in there, he shook his head, she hadn’t believed either.
The box had been warm though, and not wanting a fire in his new, shabby efficiency, he had opened it. In the bottom he had found the Dragon’s eye. He hadn’t seen it since his father’s funeral and then it hadn’t been glowing. Spidery words of gold had flashed across the surface of the redstone and not thinking, he had reached out.
The words, ‘In service to all,’ had filled his head, echoing through it as if coming from everywhere. Images had come after. Images of teeth and armor, a massive battle, and flying high in the sky had crashed into his head. Wind had filled his ears and he had felt the hilt of a sword in his hand. The sensation of flying stole 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. It wasn’t glowing now and no words marked the stone. To Micah’s eyes it looked perfectly ordinary.
Looking out a small greasy window, he saw snow. He was still in Chicago. Did I imagine it? He wondered and turned his thoughts inward and tried dredging up more memories from his father about the medallion. Nothing that mentioned glowing came to mind. But he did have several memories about duty to ones people and about his great, great grandfather. 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 his fingernail. Nothing happened. Cautiously he reached out and flicked the actual stone 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 laid there. Feeling rather silly, Micah reached out with his fingertips and traced the top of the cold stone, then taking a chance he settled his palm on it.
Looking at his hand resting on top of the old medallion, 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 like earlier, 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 under his hand, in a strong steady rhythm. It took him a moment before he realized that the cold stone now felt like a beating heart.
A myriad of swirling colors shot out of the medallion and wrapped about his body like a glowing blanket. Completely covered in the glowing nimbus, Micah felt the pressure of it on his skin, like a calm caress, then it changed. It was like a thousand hands grabbed him at once. Fear seized him and Micah tried desperately to remove his hand and found he couldn’t. All he could do was watch as the dagon’s eye grew infinitely larger.
The redstone filled his vision, changed. Now, it didn’t look a stone anylonger, instead it looked like an eye, a large eye, at least the size of his head. Unable to move, Micah saw the eye rotate, and a large, slitted black pupil came into view, then it blinked.
Micah threw himself backwards. He should have crashed head over heels over the top of his couch, but it wasn’t there. In fact nothing was there and Micah found himself landing on his back and scampering crab-like across bare stone until his head hit a hard wall. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Micah found himself shaking his head, trying to remove the image filling it.
When it didn’t go away, Micah found himself muttering, “What the hell..” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A gigantic shape occupied almost the entire chamber. His eyes moved down a body covered in blood red scales and 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.
He knew what it was, but it was impossible. Dragons didn’t exist, especially not in Chicago. They weren’t real. They only existed in fairy tales. He had given up on his belief in them when he had been a child.
An irrational thought scurried across his mind and he morbidly wondered, why isn’t it trying to eat me? Glancing back down the large body he saw that it was being held in place by rune covered gold chains and manacles. Also, the ceiling of the large stone chamber was too low for it to unfurl its gigantic wings.
I must be sleeping, Micah thought to himself. This can’t be real! I fell asleep thinking about all of Dad’s silly stories.
Instead of moving out of range of the massive beast’s head he started walking forward thinking, since this is a dream, it can’t hurt me. He kept walking until he could reach out and touch the golden chains. Micah heard the rasping sound of scales sliding over stone as the dragon moved and followed his progress with its giant wedge shaped head. Momentarily, he met the dragon’s stare and felt panic worm its way through his insides. Even if this is a dream, that thing is frightening.
Bending low over the chains, he felt a tingling sensation sweep through his body. 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 runes begin to glow.
A hissing voice rumbled, “If you can feel the chains without touching them, then, I wouldn’t do that.”
Micah jerked his hand back. 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 and continued, “I forget how ignorant you men of the blood are when you first come over. 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? Magic?” Micah scoffed, his mouth forming a smirk. “Magic’s not real and I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“If you don’t believe me, man of the blood, go ahead and touch them.” The dragon’s voice held ominous quality. Micah glanced at the dragon and saw its lips draw back in a grin of glittering teeth that made his blood run cold. “But,” it said warningly, “they are powerful enough to hold me here.”
Micah’s eyes again swept down the massive scaled body, rippling with powerful muscles and his smirk slowly faded into a wan smile, then 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, then 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 place Illanor. Although I don’t think, man of the blood, that you will find any here willing to welcome you now.” The dragon’s voice hardened as it snapped off the last of its words with a click of teeth. “Most, humans and dragons alike,” it growled in a voice sounding like a low angry snarl, “would probably be grateful to see you dead!”
“Why?” blurted Micah before he could stop himself, “I didn’t do anything, at least nothing to them. According to you, I just got here.”
The dragon’s wedge-shaped head snapped down and before Micah could blink it was eye to eye with him. He didn’t have to be told that the glare in its eyes was angry. 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 stated, “That’s right, you did nothing!”
Micah could see all of its long teeth glittering in the room’s pale light inches 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 for nine years ago. You didn’t do anything and thousands of humans and dragons have died because of you.” The dragon’s words hissed through the air like a whip’s lash and Micah found himself flinching at the tone in them.
“After the Griega came only a few dragons and their riders escaped but not many, and not enough to matter and they couldn’t do anything without you anyway.” The dragon’s head swept out over the chains and then swept back in front of him. In a condemning tone it said, “And I have been a prisoner here, trapped in these chains for nine years unable to help, 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 and nearly incinerated him. Ripping off his burning shirt, Micah heard the dragon’s angry voice fade as it finished sadly, “We should have been there to save them, man of the blood, and now all have died without us, all because you did nothing.”
'In service to all.'
The words had flashed in gold letters across the face of the redstone medallion. The Dragon’s eye, his father had called it when he had been eighteen. But never in Micah’s memory had it ever acted the way it was today.
Sitting alone at the table, he remembered some of the old stories his father had told him when he had been twelve about why he always wore it. In their shoddy little trailer just outside Chicago he 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 that duty. Although, according to his father, none had in several generations.
Micah remembered laughing at his father’s fanciful stories about the Dragonworld. He had also searched the 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 when he had been twelve. Now twenty six years later, he was not laughing.
Years ago, when he turned eighteen, he had sworn to his father to always wear the medallion, but he had stopped after his father had died. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen it.
Now he stared at the redstone as if it were a viper that had tried to bite him. In a way, he thought it already had. Turning, he looked at the box where he had found it, the left over remains of his divorce. A bitter laugh parted his lips. Maryinn must have put it in there, he shook his head, she hadn’t believed either.
The box had been warm though, and not wanting a fire in his new, shabby efficiency, he had opened it. In the bottom he had found the Dragon’s eye. He hadn’t seen it since his father’s funeral and then it hadn’t been glowing. Spidery words of gold had flashed across the surface of the redstone and not thinking, he had reached out.
The words, ‘In service to all,’ had filled his head, echoing through it as if coming from everywhere. Images had come after. Images of teeth and armor, a massive battle, and flying high in the sky had crashed into his head. Wind had filled his ears and he had felt the hilt of a sword in his hand. The sensation of flying stole 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. It wasn’t glowing now and no words marked the stone. To Micah’s eyes it looked perfectly ordinary.
Looking out a small greasy window, he saw snow. He was still in Chicago. Did I imagine it? He wondered and turned his thoughts inward and tried dredging up more memories from his father about the medallion. Nothing that mentioned glowing came to mind. But he did have several memories about duty to ones people and about his great, great grandfather. 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 his fingernail. Nothing happened. Cautiously he reached out and flicked the actual stone 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 laid there. Feeling rather silly, Micah reached out with his fingertips and traced the top of the cold stone, then taking a chance he settled his palm on it.
Looking at his hand resting on top of the old medallion, 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 like earlier, 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 under his hand, in a strong steady rhythm. It took him a moment before he realized that the cold stone now felt like a beating heart.
A myriad of swirling colors shot out of the medallion and wrapped about his body like a glowing blanket. Completely covered in the glowing nimbus, Micah felt the pressure of it on his skin, like a calm caress, then it changed. It was like a thousand hands grabbed him at once. Fear seized him and Micah tried desperately to remove his hand and found he couldn’t. All he could do was watch as the dagon’s eye grew infinitely larger.
The redstone filled his vision, changed. Now, it didn’t look a stone anylonger, instead it looked like an eye, a large eye, at least the size of his head. Unable to move, Micah saw the eye rotate, and a large, slitted black pupil came into view, then it blinked.
Micah threw himself backwards. He should have crashed head over heels over the top of his couch, but it wasn’t there. In fact nothing was there and Micah found himself landing on his back and scampering crab-like across bare stone until his head hit a hard wall. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Micah found himself shaking his head, trying to remove the image filling it.
When it didn’t go away, Micah found himself muttering, “What the hell..” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A gigantic shape occupied almost the entire chamber. His eyes moved down a body covered in blood red scales and 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.
He knew what it was, but it was impossible. Dragons didn’t exist, especially not in Chicago. They weren’t real. They only existed in fairy tales. He had given up on his belief in them when he had been a child.
An irrational thought scurried across his mind and he morbidly wondered, why isn’t it trying to eat me? Glancing back down the large body he saw that it was being held in place by rune covered gold chains and manacles. Also, the ceiling of the large stone chamber was too low for it to unfurl its gigantic wings.
I must be sleeping, Micah thought to himself. This can’t be real! I fell asleep thinking about all of Dad’s silly stories.
Instead of moving out of range of the massive beast’s head he started walking forward thinking, since this is a dream, it can’t hurt me. He kept walking until he could reach out and touch the golden chains. Micah heard the rasping sound of scales sliding over stone as the dragon moved and followed his progress with its giant wedge shaped head. Momentarily, he met the dragon’s stare and felt panic worm its way through his insides. Even if this is a dream, that thing is frightening.
Bending low over the chains, he felt a tingling sensation sweep through his body. 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 runes begin to glow.
A hissing voice rumbled, “If you can feel the chains without touching them, then, I wouldn’t do that.”
Micah jerked his hand back. 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 and continued, “I forget how ignorant you men of the blood are when you first come over. 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? Magic?” Micah scoffed, his mouth forming a smirk. “Magic’s not real and I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“If you don’t believe me, man of the blood, go ahead and touch them.” The dragon’s voice held ominous quality. Micah glanced at the dragon and saw its lips draw back in a grin of glittering teeth that made his blood run cold. “But,” it said warningly, “they are powerful enough to hold me here.”
Micah’s eyes again swept down the massive scaled body, rippling with powerful muscles and his smirk slowly faded into a wan smile, then 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, then 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 place Illanor. Although I don’t think, man of the blood, that you will find any here willing to welcome you now.” The dragon’s voice hardened as it snapped off the last of its words with a click of teeth. “Most, humans and dragons alike,” it growled in a voice sounding like a low angry snarl, “would probably be grateful to see you dead!”
“Why?” blurted Micah before he could stop himself, “I didn’t do anything, at least nothing to them. According to you, I just got here.”
The dragon’s wedge-shaped head snapped down and before Micah could blink it was eye to eye with him. He didn’t have to be told that the glare in its eyes was angry. 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 stated, “That’s right, you did nothing!”
Micah could see all of its long teeth glittering in the room’s pale light inches 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 for nine years ago. You didn’t do anything and thousands of humans and dragons have died because of you.” The dragon’s words hissed through the air like a whip’s lash and Micah found himself flinching at the tone in them.
“After the Griega came only a few dragons and their riders escaped but not many, and not enough to matter and they couldn’t do anything without you anyway.” The dragon’s head swept out over the chains and then swept back in front of him. In a condemning tone it said, “And I have been a prisoner here, trapped in these chains for nine years unable to help, 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 and nearly incinerated him. Ripping off his burning shirt, Micah heard the dragon’s angry voice fade as it finished sadly, “We should have been there to save them, man of the blood, and now all have died without us, all because you did nothing.”