Chapter 1-5

Sorry this has been a while. I'm currently having to use another computer to access the Internet, so that's been slowing me down a bit.


The pair of half-dragons made their way through the small town. It was clear that Zrathanzon was familiar with the way, and that the people going about their business were familiar with him. Many greeted the two cheerfully, and some expressed thanks to Zrathanzon for one thing or another. Almonihah's expression was one of shock. How had Zrathanzon become so welcome in this town?

Before long they entered a small inn. The innkeeper looked up as they entered, smiled at the sight of Zrathanzon, and boomed in a deep voice, “If it isn't our gold-scaled Ranger! And here I was thinkin' you'd gone and wandered off for good this time!”

Zrathanzon smiled as well. “Do you really think I could leave without stopping by to tell you it's fine for someone else to use that room you always 'happen to have empty' for me?”

The innkeeper laughed. “Oh, I've rented it out a few times while you haven't been here, when one of th' big caravans comes through town.”

“But it's always the last one you rent out, isn't it,” Zrathanzon replied, still grinning. “You don't need to bother, you know. It's not like I'm not used to camping.”

“Oh, sure, you can camp...” the innkeeper trailed off for a second, then continued, his voice a bit more serious, “But after what you did for my brother, it's th' least I could do.”

“Speaking of your brother, how is he?”

The innkeeper guffawed, his belly shaking as some memory tickled his brain. “Oh, you should see him! Sneakin' out of his bed while he thinks his wife isn't watchin' 'im, sayin' he's 'just fine, thank you!' when she catches 'im... You ask me, she prob'ly is fussin' a bit too much over 'im, but after that orc slashed 'im... well, I s'pose you can't be too careful.”

Zrathanzon nodded. “Yes, that was quite a wound he took,” he said, face and voice serious. Then a bit of a grin started to creep back, and he continued, “But I imagine if he's trying to evade his wife, he's most of the way recovered by now.”

“Aye, he's lookin' pretty good now. Have to say, though, it's lucky for 'im that th' scar ain't somewhere most folks 'll be seein' it.” The innkeeper was quiet for a bit, then shrugged and said, “Well, if you want, you can go ahead up to your room. I'll get the wife started on cookin' us up a bit of supper. There ain't another soul in 'ere other than yourself, me, and the wife, so we hadn't been plannin' on cookin' too much.”

“Ah, but there is someone you haven't mentioned here,” Zrathanzon responded.

“Eh?” The innkeeper didn't catch what Zrathanzon was talking about until he nodded at Almonihah. Leaning over the counter, he finally noticed the young half-dragon. “Ah! Sorry, little sir, I didn't see you over th' counter. This a relation of yours, Ranger?”

Zrathanzon laughed, and said, “You have no idea how many people have asked that since we arrived.” Then he shook his head and answered, “No, Almonihah isn't related to me, he's just someone I'm looking after for a while.”

The innkeeper shrugged, then said, “Well, I think I can move another bed into your room for 'im. It'll be a bit big, mind, but I ain't never heard somebody complainin' about havin' too big of a bed.” He laughed a bit at his own joke and said, “Well, if you won't be mindin', sirs, I'll go ahead and tell the wife to cook for more than two tonight,” as he turned to do just that.

“Let's drop our packs off in our room,” Zrathanzon said to his little charge, leading the way up the stairs to the rooms. He went straight to a room at the end of the upstairs hallway, and then went in. It was a simple room, much like any other frontier inn room, with a plain bed—little more than a raised straw pallet—with a chest at the foot of it for any gear a traveler chose to store in the inn. Zrathanzon took off his pack and leaned it against the wall, and motioned for Almonihah to do likewise.

“So why do all the people here like you so much?” Almonihah asked as he set his pack down.

Zrathanzon paused for a bit, then answered, “Well, like the innkeeper said, I helped out his brother when a few stray orcs wandered over to his farm and decided they'd see what they could steal. They gave him a rather nasty slash before my arrows convinced those that were alive to look elsewhere for entertainment, but I was able to stop the bleeding before he lost too much blood.”

When Zrathanzon paused, Almonihah asked, “But what about everyone else?”

Zrathanzon shrugged a bit. “This isn't a very settled area, and the North Forest has worse things in it than feral orcs. The plains aren't exactly safe, either. I can't be here often, but I can often tell when there's going to be trouble and get here in time to help out.” Zrathanzon hesitated for a moment, then continued, “And there are those in town who know metallic scales,” he tapped a claw against the golden scales on his cheek, “generally mean good rather than ill.”

Almonihah was quiet for a bit. He remembered his father telling him about the different kinds of dragons—the noble metallic dragons, like his father, and the evil chromatic dragons.

His father.

His mother. What... what had killed his mother?

“Zrathanzon...” Almonihah fought against the pain even framing the question brought for a moment, then said, his voice a bit choked, “Did you see... what... happened to my mother?”

If Zrathanzon was surprised by the sudden change of subject, he didn't show it. He nodded. “It was a blue dragon. Not too old of one, but... old enough.”

“A blue dragon...” Almonihah pictured something like his father, but with blue scales, in his mind.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and then the innkeeper's voice. “I've got that second bed for you!”

Zrathanzon walked to the door and opened it. The innkeeper stood on the other side with the straw pallet from another bed. “I thought about it for a bit, and it seemed like it'd be awful hard to get the whole bed in 'ere, so I figured this'd do. This okay with you, little sir?”

Almonihah nodded, still unsure of how to act around these friendly townspeople. The innkeeper entered the room and placed the pallet on the ground. After a little bit of rearrangement, he nodded in satisfaction and said, “There you go, little sir. All set up.” Straightening, he said, “Supper'll be ready in a bit,” then went back out the door.

“It will be longer than just 'a bit',” Zrathanzon said with a bit of a grin after the innkeeper was out of earshot. “We should have time to do an errand or two before he has anything ready for us to eat.”

With that, the pair left the inn and went further into the town. The inn was just off of the main road, which was surprisingly wide for a small town like this, though in rather poor repair and deeply rutted by wagon wheels.

“This road is the only reason this village is here,” Zrathanzon explained. “It connects the east and the west coasts. In the east they call it the Spice Way, and the westerners call it the Tea Road. Around here, though, folks just call it the Gold Road, because the only gold coins anyone ever sees around here come from the caravans.”

They went along the main road to a small shop with a crude sign that seemed to represent some kind of footwear. Almonihah glanced down at his feet, remembering complaining to his mother just a few days ago that his claws were starting to poke holes in the ends of his shoes again. He quickly looked back up and blinked away the tears that began to come at the memory.

When they entered the shop, it was clear that, while the shopkeeper might specialize in footwear, he also sold a number of other items of apparel. The shopkeeper looked up as the half-dragons walked in.

“Ah, Zrathanzon! Good to see you're still around these parts.” He looked a bit closer at Almonihah. “Bronze scales, not gold, I see. For a second I was wondering if you'd gone and found yourself a lady,” the shopkeeper said with a wink at Zrathanzon.

Zrathanzon laughed, but there seemed to be a subtle undercurrent to his laugh that Almonihah hadn't caught in his others. “That'd be the day!” he said.

The shopkeeper grinned a bit wider, then suddenly sobered, all business. “So what do you need today?”

Zrathanzon nodded at Almonihah. “He needs something a bit tougher than what he's wearing right now,” he replied.

The shopkeeper nodded. “So, some boots, probably some leather leggings and such?”

Zrathanzon nodded, and the shopkeeper disappeared into a back room for a moment, before returning with a small, sturdy-looking pair of boots. “Let's try these first.”

After trying several different pairs of boots, as well as holding up some leather clothing to himself, they walked out with a couple changes of tough clothing and a pair of boots for Almonihah, and some scraps of leather that the shopkeeper apparently kept specifically for Zrathanzon's visits. He said they were for repairs, and looking closely, Almonihah could tell that his mentor's gear was, indeed, patched in several places. He had also gotten a rather sizable piece of leather that he said he would use to make a scabbard for Zithrandrak.


*********************

Zrathanzon has been a lot more fun to get to know than I anticipated. I had no clue he had such a sense of humor. It's probably a good thing, though, given how humorless A.Z. is. Just wait until you see what kind of trouble THAT gets him into, though!

If this seems a bit slow to you right now... well, it is a bit slow. I'm trying to establish the setting and the characters really well right now, and I may be spending just a bit TOO much space on it. I'm enjoying writing it, but I think I will try to speed things up just a bit, now that I've gotten my toes wet on some real narration instead of speed-narration like with the first section.

By the way, as of this post, I'm pretty sure "The Chainer's Legacy" is the longest thing I've ever written. Well, there may be ONE paper I've written so far for school that was longer, but it won't take long to fix that.

I've gone back and done some more editing on the older posts, but I think I'll wait until I have a better internet connection to upload the edits.

Chapter 1-4

He could hear Zrathanzon moving some things around when he woke up in the morning. He rolled over to take a look, and was surprised to find that his teacher had packed up nearly everything in their little campsite besides the fire ring (of course) and the bedroll that he was sleeping in. He thought he had been pretty quiet when he'd rolled over, but Zrathanzon glanced over at him and said, cheerily, “I'm glad you woke up, Almonihah. I was just about to wake you up so I could roll up your bedroll.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Almonihah asked as he got out of his bedroll.

“We're going into town,” replied the ranger, tying a knot in a rope to hold one last bit of equipment on his backpack.

Almonihah froze. Town. That word conjured up memories, angry yelling outside their home, his parents' quick embrace before his father went out to face the mob, his mother frantically drawing with some kind of silvery powder on the ground in preparation for some last-ditch magical effort, the mob's sullen, angry, frightened stares as they left town...

“We can't go into town!” Almonihah almost shouted.

Zrathanzon glanced at his small charge in surprise, which softened into understanding. “I know a town where they won't throw us out.”

Almonihah's only response was an incredulous stare, to which Zrathanzon responded with a smile and “You'll see.”

Almonihah still looked doubtful, but Zrathanzon just said, “Get ready to go.”

Almonihah knelt down to roll up his bedroll, and winced. “I hurt all over,” he groaned as he realized that he really did seem to ache in places he didn't know he could.

Zrathanzon just laughed again. “That means you're getting stronger.”

Almonihah groaned again as he reached for the rope to tie up his bedroll. “Why does it have to hurt so much?”

Zrathanzon paused for a moment, then said, “Real growth always hurts. Otherwise everyone would do it.”

Almonihah's little face scrunched up in an uncomprehending frown, then he shrugged and tied a knot. Zrathanzon, observing, came over and retied the knot, with his little student observing. Then Almonihah picked up his bedroll and Zithrandrak, and they set off, Zrathanzon leading.

Almonihah kept groaning as they walked. After a while, Zrathanzon turned to look at him and said, “If you keep doing that, it'll just make it worse.”

“Ok,” Almonihah said, mollified.

They walked in silence for a little while, then Zrathanzon continued, “Complaining is worthless. It never helps anything, it wastes energy, and it saps your will. Don't ever do it.” Almonihah made no response.

It seemed to Almonihah's weary body that he walked for days, but to his surprise, after a while, the pain and fatigue seemed to fade, driven back by the demands of travel and interest in the teachings of Zrathanzon. He was fascinated by how much his teacher seemed to know about the woods, how to travel in them, how to avoid its dangers—things his mother and father had never said anything about. It seemed that every plant and animal—and even every bit of displaced leaf litter or depression in the ground—had a name, a meaning, and a purpose.

Almonihah was almost sad when Zrathanzon called a halt for lunch, because that might mean Zrathanzon would stop talking about the woods for a little while. As they unpacked some food—roots, berries, jerky—Almonihah tried to keep the conversation going by asking, “How do you know so much stuff?”

Zrathanzon laughed, and responded, “I've lived for a while.”

Almonihah shook his head. “No, how do you know so much stuff about the forest?”

His mentor chuckled again, and replied, “I've lived for a while in the woods.”

Almonihah frowned, unsatisfied with the response. Zrathanzon, noticing this, continued, “I was taught how to learn about the forest by... some friends, and the names of things I've picked up here and there, but most of it I've learned myself, living here.” He looked at his companion and said, “You could learn, too, with time.” Almonihah looked thoughtful at this, and was silent for the rest of their lunch.

They hiked for most of the afternoon, finally reaching the outskirts of a small town at the edge of the forest as the sun was touching the horizon in the west. It was surrounded by a rough stockade, as most of the villages around the untamed North Forest were. There was a single guard at the gate towards which they were walking. He looked up as the pair approached, and much to Almonihah's amazement, waved amiably at Zrathanzon.

“Evenin', Ranger! It seems like it's been a while since you've stopped by here,” the guard called out as they came within hailing distance. Then he took a closer look at the two approaching him, and continued, gesturing at Almonihah, “Little relative of yours?”

Zrathanzon laughed. “Last I checked, it was hard to be a close relative of a dragon—or half-dragon—with different-colored scales than me. This is Almonihah, and I'm... just watching out for him for now.”

“Like you've always done for us, eh?” The guard responded. “He's a lucky child, then. And, ah, welcome to you, Almonihah,” he continued, looking down at the bronze-scaled child. Almonihah, still unable to believe they were actually being welcomed, simply averted his eyes. The guard chuckled a bit. “A bit shy, eh? Nothin' to fear here, lad. Any friend of Zrathanzon is a friend of our town.”

By now they had reached the gates. “Go ahead—I expect there's still a room or two in the inn empty, if you're not wantin' to camp today,” the guard said cheerfully.

Zrathanzon replied just as cheerfully, “I think that sounds good.”

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Can't say I've got a lot to comment on about this post. I'm rather pleased with how things are progressing.

Chapter 1-3

“If he can...” Almonihah murmured. What if... but his father was a dragon. There was no way anything could beat his father. But if not, then why...

Zrathanzon broke in on Almonihah's thoughts. “You ever used a sword?”

Almonihah blinked at the change of topics, but some part of him welcomed it, shying away from its former train of thought. “No...”

“Do you want to learn how?”

Almonihah thought for a moment. Maybe, if he had known how to fight... “Yes, I do,” Almonihah said, a determined look on his small, scaled face.

Zrathanzon revealed that he had made a small practice sword overnight—really just a roughly straight stick of about the right size that had the bark shaved off and another stick lashed on like a crossguard. Zrathanzon gave it to Almonihah, then drew his own sword. “You hold a sword like this,” he said, demonstrating. Almonihah, frowning a bit in concentration, looked at what his instructor was doing, then carefully copied it. “A little farther down the hilt,” Zrathanzon instructed, and Almonihah obeyed, then looked back at Zrathanzon. Zrathanzon nodded, then said, “Ok, now this is your first stance...”

Almonihah was breathing in gasps by the end of the training session. He couldn't think of any time he'd been breathing so hard, but it felt good. It meant he didn't have energy to think about anything. It was clear that the training was over for the morning, though. Zrathanzon confirmed it by sheathing his sword and saying, “Not bad, Almonihah. You've got potential. I think it's time for you to rest now, though.”

Almonihah had too little breath to respond, and only nodded in acknowledgement. He sat where he was, still breathing hard, while Zrathanzon went back into camp and stirred up the fire. Slowly, Almonihah's breathing slowed to normal. When he could feel his heart beating at a more normal rate, he got back up and followed Zrathanzon back into camp. He was somewhat surprised to find that Zrathanzon was preparing lunch, until he glance up into the sky and noticed that the sun had already passed the middle of the sky. He'd been learning swordplay the whole morning.

After lunch, they took a moment to rest around the fire. Almonihah looked at his new teacher, his little mind working, and asked, “So... Zrathanzon, what do you do?”

Zrathanzon chuckled a little, and responded, “I'm a ranger.” When Almonihah just stared blankly at him, he continued, “I travel in the wilds,” he gestured to indicate the untamed forest around them, “hunting, looking out for people who live out here, protecting them from monsters...” Zrathanzon shrugged. “You'll understand.”

Almonihah was silent as he tried to understand what Zrathanzon had said. He was still trying to create a picture in his mind of what a ranger was when Zrathanzon said, “You feeling rested, Almonihah?” At Almonihah's nod, he continued, “Have you ever been hunting?”

Almonihah nodded again and said, “Yes...” He looked at Zrathanzon for a bit, then continued a bit doubtfully, “But I don't think you do it the same.”

Zrathanzon laughed a bit, and said, “Probably not. Want to see how I do it?”

“Yes,” Almonihah answered.

Zrathanzon laughed a bit again, and then murmured, “You like brief answers, don't you?” He shook his head in amusement, and then continued, “Well, it's about time to make a hunting trip. Make sure you put that sword somewhere safe, then we'll get going.”

Almonihah nodded, looked around for somewhere to put Zithrandrak, and eventually contented himself with hiding it in his bedroll. “We'll have to make a sheath for it sometime,” Zrathanzon murmured, more to himself than to Almonihah. “Of course, it'll be a while before you're big enough to use it,” he continued a bit more loudly. Almonihah simply nodded again.

Zrathanzon picked up a piece of bent wood leaned up against a tree near his bedroll, pulled out some string, and started using the string to bend the wood more. Almonihah looked quizzically at him for a bit, then asked, “What's that?”

Zrathanzon chuckled a bit. “I'm stringing my bow.” He glanced at Almonihah, and seeing his uncomprehending look, laughed and said, “You've never seen a bow before, have you?” Almonihah shook his head, and Zrathanzon said, “Well, this is what one looks like.” He held up the now-strung bow. Almonihah's stare... was still blank. Zrathanzon laughed again, shaking his head, and said, “You'll see pretty soon what a bow does.”

With that, Zrathanzon got up, picked up a couple other little pieces of equipment, then motioned for Almonihah to follow. As they traveled deeper into the woods, Almonihah snapped a twig underfoot. Zrathanzon froze, then turned back and whispered, “Watch your feet. Like this.”

Zrathanzon walked carefully, his booted feet completely silent. Almonihah watched intently, then tried to follow. He got a good ways before crunching anything else.

After practicing moving through the woods silently for a while, the two reached the edge of a sizable clearing. There was a small herd of deer browsing on the other side. Zrathanzon froze, and gestured for his little companion to do likewise. Then he slowly drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, drew, and loosed it.

It sank deep into one of the deer's sides, but not into anything that would kill it quickly. The whole herd, including the wounded deer, took off running, and Zrathanzon took off after it. Almonihah tried to follow, but he was quickly outdistanced by the much longer-legged ranger. It wasn't long, however, before he nocked and loosed a second arrow, one which brought down the wounded deer almost instantly. Zrathanzon slowed his pace, and Almonihah was able to catch up, breathing hard.

“The deer would have died after a while on its own,” Zrathanzon said when his student reached him near the deer, “But you don't make it suffer unnecessarily. We have to kill to eat, but we kill as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

“Is that part of being a ranger, too?” Almonihah asked.

Zrathanzon nodded. “Rangers don't cause animals—or plants, really—any more harm than we absolutely have to. We respect nature, and nature respects us in turn.” An oddly thoughtful expression (at least for a five-year-old) came over Almonihah's face at this.

Zrathanzon reached the downed deer, carefully pulled the two arrows out of the carcass, then shouldered it easily. “Let's get back to camp and prepare this meat,” he said, turning back to where they had come.

It was late by the time they had finished preparing (and eating some of) the meat. It seemed to Almonihah that he had never been so tired in his short life. Sword practice, hunting, preparing the meat... his mother had always given him chores, but never like these!

His mother...

His father. Where was his father?

Zrathanzon broke into his thoughts. “You want to go to bed now, Almonihah?”

“Yes!” Almonihah answered emphatically.

Zrathanzon grinned a bit and motioned at Almonihah's bedroll. “Well, go ahead. Just don't lay down on your sword.”

Almonihah had been in such a hurry to lay down that he'd almost forgotten about that. He winced a bit at the thought of laying down on top of his father's sword, and made sure to carefully move it aside as he got under the blanket on his bedroll. He closed his eyes and expected to fall asleep almost instantly. He didn't.

First of all, the day's exertions seemed to have made every muscle in his body sore, so that there wasn't any comfortable way to lay on his bedroll. Second... now that he didn't have any task to throw himself headlong into learning, he had no defense against his thoughts. His mother falling... his father maybe being dead... otherwise why wouldn't he have come? Why wouldn't he have saved her? And even if he was alive... and came and found Almonihah... how could he go home without mother?

Why hadn't he saved her?

There were tears on Almonihah's cheeks again when he fell asleep.

***************

Can't say I've got a lot to say about this posting. Mostly just giving a picture of what Almonihah's early training was like. I am happy with Zrathanzon--I hadn't known he was quite so happy. I guess I thought A.Z. got it from him.

Chapter 1-2

There was silence for a moment. Almonihah's view was still riveted to his motionless mother, when something obstructed his view. A pair of golden eyes, slitted like his own, met his. A gruff voice asked, “You okay, kid?” After a moment's hesitation, Almonihah nodded his head. The gruff voice spoke again. “We can't stay here. Come with me.” The tone of voice made the last sentence sound like a question, so Almonihah nodded again.

He was picked up by strong, scaled hands, and laid across a shoulder that had something hard on it, Zithrandrak still in his hands. Even after she was lost to him in the trees, Almonihah kept staring in the direction his mother lay, as if his unblinking gaze could somehow make her death go away.

It seemed to Almonihah that he was carried by the golden-eyed stranger for a long time through the woods. Days. Weeks, even. His mind seemed trapped in a timeless haze. Eventually, the gruff voice spoke again. “Here we are,” it said, and Almonihah felt himself being lowered onto a bedroll of some kind. Almonihah sat where he was put down unmoving.

The golden-eyed stranger sighed, and then said, “Try to sleep. Things... may not seem so bad in the morning.”

Though he wasn't tired, Almonihah obediently lay down on the bedroll. He didn't close his eyes, though, despite not really seeing what he was looking at. He heard the stranger moving around, doing things behind him. Eventually, the sounds stopped, but still Almonihah didn't close his eyes. Then he felt something wet under his eyes. He reached up to wipe his eyes, and found tears.

He finally fell asleep sometime that night, clutching Zithrandrak like some kind of talisman, tears still drying on his scaled cheeks.


Almonihah awoke in the morning to find the sun was already quite a ways into the sky. He frowned a bit, wondering why his mother hadn't woken him earlier, like she usually did, when the memory of yesterday came rushing back. He felt the urge to weep again, but some stubborn part of him didn't want to have the stranger, if he was still around, see the tears. So he choked them back, and once he felt he had control over himself, he started to look around to see where he was.

What he saw was a small campsite somewhere deep in the woods. There was the bedroll he was laying on, some equipment stacked neatly next to a half-full pack, and another bedroll on the other side of a small fire ring, all in a clear area under some tall oak trees. There was a fire in the ring, being attended by a man who was probably the one who had carried him here. Almonihah was surprised to realize that the golden-eyed stranger was another half-dragon, though with golden scales instead of bronze, like his own. He was tall, and wore worn-looking leather clothing. He also wore a sword sheathed in a scabbard which hung from his belt at his left hip, as well as a quiver which hung at his left hip.

The stranger's golden eyes met Almonihah's again, and he said, “Finally awake? Feeling better now, kid?”

“Yes,” Almonihah croaked almost too quietly to hear. Surprised at how hard it was to speak, he cleared his throat and said, more loudly this time, “Yes.”

“And speaking, too! Good. You're probably hungry now, aren't you?” the stranger said, a bit of cheer in his gruff voice.

Almonihah was about to say no when he caught a whiff of what was cooking over the fire—some venison. He was quite surprised to realize he was hungry, after all, so he replied, “Yes.” The gold half-dragon picked up a stick which was leaning on the edge of the fire ring, which Almonihah realized had the venison cooking on the end of it, then came over to him. Almonihah noted with surprise as he came over that he had a thin tail.

“Here you go,” the stranger said, his voice tinged with amusement, when he reached Almonihah. Almonihah realized with a start that he had been staring at his tail. He refocused and saw that the stranger was holding the stick out to Almonihah with the meat on the end of it. Almonihah looked rather dubiously at the meat, thinking that his mother wouldn't approve of him eating it without a plate or utensils. The thought of his mother forced him to choke back tears again, so to cover up his weakness he snatched the meat rather forcefully and took a big bite.

The stranger chuckled, and said, “You are hungry, aren't you?” Almonihah nodded his head while he chewed busily. It wasn't the same as... what he used to have, but it was still good in a way. The stranger watched him chew and swallow, then said, “I suppose it's time to introduce myself. My name's Zrathanzon. What's yours, kid?”

“Almonihah,” Almonihah responded. At least he didn't have to think of Zrathanzon as “the stranger” any more. He took another bite of venison.

Zrathanzon watched Almonihah eat in silence for a little while, then went back and got some food for himself. They ate in silence, with only the crackling of the fire and the rustling of the leaves to complement the soft sounds of them eating.

After their simple breakfast was over, Almonihah's thoughts started to turn back to the events of yesterday. Just as they did, however, Zrathanzon said, “That's quite a sword you've got there. Why were you carrying it around?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Almonihah looked at Zithrandrak. He hadn't gotten a clear look at it before, but now he was quite startled to see it was, quite frankly, beautiful. It was rather short for a rapier, and intricately decorated to resemble a silver dragon, its long tail the blade, its wings the crossguard, and its neck wrapping around to form a small guard. The detail work was so fine that Almonihah could see every scale on the dragon, and they almost seemed to ripple as he moved the sword, as if the dragon was alive. The whole thing was coated in—or maybe even made of—silver, so that it seemed more like a piece of art than a functional sword.

“My father...” Almonihah stopped cold mid-sentence. His father. What had happened with his father? He remembered the roaring, the yelling, getting fainter as he and his mother ran... then he wasn't sure if he could still hear it when his mother was struck down. There hadn't been room in his brain to track anything else at the time.

Zrathanzon seemed to follow Almonihah's thoughts. “I'm sure, if he can, he'll come find you soon.”


***********

So now you meet Zrathanzon. I must admit I'm kind of excited for this portion of the story, because I don't know Zrathanzon well at all. I know he must really have impressed A.Z. for him to use his name as his last name, and I know he taught A.Z. the ways of the ranger, but I don't know much about him personally. So this will be a journey of discovery for both of us.

I feel a lot better about how this section turned out. I think I'm getting into my narrative stride a bit more now. That, and I didn't try to cover five years in a page this time. I seem to have difficulty when I skip over time.

Editing...

...is something I actually need to do. I was so unhappy with the most recent post that I went back and edited it a fair bit. I feel better about it now, though still not too great. Oh, well. I'll get better with practice.

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1: Hunted

Dragons are much more capable than human babies when they are hatched, both in physical and mental capabilities. Some can even remember their thoughts before they hatched. Thus, despite how young Almonihah was during the events of his early childhood, he still remembers them with perfect clarity. Even when he wishes he didn't.

Almonihah was born in a small, secluded town somewhere on the western edge of Gatath. His parents were a human sorceress and a bronze dragon, who had taken human form for the sake of his wife. Unfortunately, the town they lived in was not a particularly... accepting town. While the little family was able to keep their son's race (and therefore the father's race) a secret for a time, especially since Almonihah did not yet have wings, it was inevitable that the secret would get out. And when it did, it was only in keeping with the character of the town for a mob to charge their home. They were met calmly by Almonihah's father, who informed them that, if his son was half-dragon, that meant that he was full dragon, and then requested that the family be allowed to leave in peace. Though at first there were some voices of dissent, a low, draconic growl from Almonihah's father was enough to make them see the course of wisdom.

The little family went further north and west, into the untamed North Forest. They built a small cabin there, and lived a simple life. Well, as simple a life as a dragon, a sorceress, and their son can really be said to lead. Which is to say that Almonihah's parents probably did all sorts of interesting things while they were away from home, which one or the other of them often was. At home, however, everything was quiet, and Almonihah grew in relative peace and happiness. His father trained him in being a dragon, and his mother trained him in being a human, so they figured they were doing a pretty good job at raising a half-dragon.

Around the time he reached the age of five, however, something changed. Almonihah's parents started to have tense whispered conversations when he wasn't close enough to overhear, and his father seemed to spend longer periods of time away from home. When he asked what was going on, his parents would deny that there was anything out of the ordinary, but you can't truly hide anything from a child, not when you live with him.

Things continued this way for several weeks until one summer evening, when the little family was together in their cabin, finishing a meal. Suddenly the father froze and looked at the door. Then, looking back at his wife, he nodded and murmured something, at which point she got up and told Almonihah to follow her and get himself ready to go outside. As Almonihah obeyed, his father went out the front door. Just as they were preparing to leave, Almonihah's father came back in, went to a chest in the corner, pulled out a rapier, and came over to his wife and son.

Looking straight at Almonihah, he said, “Almonihah, this is Zithrandrak. It's a sword I've had in my hoard for a long time, and I want you to have it now. Take care of it for me, okay?”

Almonihah nodded his head, then, as his father turned to go back out, called after him, “Father, where are you going? Aren't you coming back?”

His mother hushed him and hurried him to the back door (Almonihah would not learn until much later how unusual it was for a cabin to have two doors), and his father made no reply as he left the cabin. Then Almonihah and his mother left, too, through the back door, with Almonihah clutching Zithrandrak uncertainly. His mother picked Almonihah up and started walking very quickly through the cleared area behind their cabin, when they heard his father's roar from the other side of the cabin, and then some shouts and yells mingled with more roars.

Almonihah's mother broke into a run, heading for the dense forest not far from where they were. They had nearly reached the cover of the trees when another roar came from overhead, one unfamiliar to Almonihah. His mother glanced over her shoulder, gasped a little at what she saw, and redoubled her efforts to reach the woods.

When she did, she set Almonihah down next to a tree with a whispered, “Be safe,” then turned back and strode out into the open. She started chanting, and her son recognized that she was casting one of her spells, when there was another roar from the sky, followed by a bolt of lightning that struck her right in the chest. She jerked once, then fell limply to the ground.

Almonihah sat in shock, still clutching Zithrandrak to his chest. He had seen animals die when his father had taken him hunting (meaning, when his father carried Almonihah while he went hunting), so he was fairly certain he knew what he had just seen, but his mother... his young mind, advanced though it was in comparison to a human five-year-old's, couldn't accept what he had seen, so he just sat there, uncomprehending. Some part of his brain recognized the sound of draconic wingflaps coming closer to him, but his conscious brain was still jammed on the thought of his mother being dead.

Suddenly, a twanging sound came from the forest behind him—a sound he would later learn was the twang of a bow—followed by a roar from close overhead. The sound was enough to shock him out of his stupor, especially since it was so nearby. He knew better than to go take a look at what was roaring, though, so he simply clutched his father's rapier closer to his chest and waited. The twanging sound came again, and again, and was followed by more roaring, and then the wingflaps started getting more distant.

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Author's notes:

Not the happiest of postings, but at least we get through some of the worst of things quickly. I'm not quite sure I like how the narrative 'voice' for this section turned out--it's something I'll be experimenting with. Of course, this is really a brief section for how much is happening in it. Remember, after all, that this is Elque writing based on what Almonihah was telling him, and no matter how clearly Almonihah thinks he remembers things, it's really just a few events that stayed so clear in his mind--little details have long since been lost. Expect descriptions to get more detailed and events to be more fleshed out as we get into events from Almonihah's later childhood and adulthood. Though if you ask Almonihah, his childhood ended at the end of this section.

Book I

Book I: Almonihah

(There were some things that my interviewees said while we were talking that I just felt had to stay in their words. I'm going to take advantage of the beginning of each book to record some of their words)

“What's it like being half-dragon? Hmph... well, first, it's lonely. Not just 'cause people tend t' meet you with weapons drawn, but because there probably aren't any others of you. Never met another half bronze/half human, and don't suspect I ever will. Not only that, but even two half-dragons of th' same mix won't be th' same—one might have wings and th' other a tail and no wings or something. So you have to deal with always being different than everyone else.

“Not only that, but... you're half. You're not full anything, you're half dragon and half something else. Make sense? Didn't think so... not something you can explain. It's... you're in between two things, but you're not really either. Sometimes you want to be more draconic, sometimes more human, but really, you can't be. Not really.

“It's... hmph... the thing about dragons is that they can... sort of remember things their ancestors did. Not in full detail, but enough. 't's how an orphaned hatchling can figure out how to breathe fire or whatever on its own. And my dragon half... it halfway does the same. 'cept I'm not a full dragon. So part of me sort of remembers doing things I can't do.

“At th' same time... come to realize, after a while, that there's advantages, too. I not be full dragon or full human, but I'm full Almonihah. 'nd there're things that Almonihah does that no human or dragon does. Something about being in between that gives me an edge in some things. Being part of both but not really part of either lets me look at both humans and dragons in a way they can't. Can't really explain to you what I see, 'cause you've got to be... outside looking in to understand.

“ 'course, that's just how I see it. Have to ask Garkhen what he thinks of things, 'cause he'll probably say something different. But that's how I see it.”

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Author's Notes: If you've ever read any of the Drizzt books, you've probably noticed how R.A. Salvatore sticks an extended quote from Drizzt at the beginning of major divisions in his books. I've found that I like the technique, since it gives an opportunity for Drizzt to speak in a way and about things that he couldn't really do in the body of the narration. It also does a lot to establish Drizzt's 'voice'. So I decided to try the technique myself, and see how it works.

Writing for A.Z. is always hard for me, because his manner of speaking just doesn't translate well into text. The way I've written might make you think he has an accent, when he doesn't really. He just... well, he's not talkative, first of all, so when he speaks a lot like this, he tends to pause periodically to consider how to phrase things. Second, he tends to phrase things so as to take as few words as possible to say. And third, he tends to slur together or chop off parts of the words he does use if he thinks his meaning is clear enough without them. Sometimes he even drops whole pronouns from sentences (notice all the times he should have said "I" at the beginning of one of his sentences and didn't?). Which, added together, makes it rather difficult for me to convey his words in text.

This quote actually kind of gives some things away, because this book is, in many ways, about the evolution of Almonihah's view of himself. There's still a lot to tell, though, so stay tuned!

Prologue

The Chainer's Legacy

Written by Elque O. Delanoche, Assistant to the Head Mage-Archivist of the Midport Wizards' Archives

(I wish to note here that I chose the title long after I wrote the initial three books of this volume, so don't be surprised if it takes a while to see what the title means. Just a warning.)

It was a dark and stormy night... sorry, I've always wanted to write that. Though truthfully, it was stormy that day—but it was also still day. One of those midsummer thunderstorms that give the Stormpeaks their name. I was in one of the reading rooms on the main floor of the Archives with three most unusual guests. Guests who'd made quite a stir in the local mage community.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I haven't even introduced myself properly. I am Mage-Archivist Elque Delanoche, of the Midport Wizards' Archives. As you might guess from my occupation, I've always had a keen interest in history, especially the history of magical events. So when a half-human, half-bronze dragon, a half-dwarven, half-blue dragon, and a griffon showed up in the Sorcerer's Peaks (the mage's district of Midport, if you're behind on your geography. Though it's technically not part of Midport, but rather its own independent community... but that's a distinction for the lawyers, not the historians. But here I go rambling, and I've barely started) and started talking about possibly the biggest discovery in magical history since long before I was born, I just had to interview them.

Now, after talking with them for a little bit, I decided to do something a little bit different. So many historians write history like it's dry and boring, when nothing could be further from the truth! So I decided to write my history more like an adventure tale. And so that is what I assume you're now holding in your hands. Now then, this brings me almost back to where I was. After our initial discussions, and after my decision about what I was going to write, I decided I'd like to start with their histories. I was sure that such unique characters as they would have interesting histories, and I thought it would be helpful to the readers of my volume. Besides, I wasn't really sure yet where their story really started.

Oh, here I go talking all about them and I haven't even told you who they are! I'll fix that right now! The bronze one—half-bronze dragon, half human, that is—is a Ranger named Almonihah Zrathanzon. The blue one—half-blue dragon, half dwarven—is a cleric named Garkhen'ze'Darkhen'Sem'dor. And the griffon, who is apparently also sort of a Ranger, is named Zakhin'Dakh. All Draconic names, of course, so I've transliterated them, hopefully well enough for you to get an idea of how to pronounce them. Though of course the dragons insist that no human can ever really get close to a proper pronunciation of Draconic. All very unusual names, even for Draconic names, as well—well, except for the griffon. I suppose Zakhin'Dakh would be a perfectly ordinary thing for a dragon to name a griffon, if they were in the habit of naming griffons, which of course they aren't.

I'm rambling again, aren't I? I really need to get this under control, or I'll never even get to their stories! So, as I said, I decided I'd like to write their histories, but of course I knew that would take quite a while. Which is how we ended up in a reading room in the archive together, in a kind of very extended interview.

Now, before I go farther, I suppose I should probably describe my subjects. After all, you probably haven't seen many half-dragons, and even if you had, I understand they're really rather unique, so you still probably wouldn't know what Almonihah and Garkhen look like. So, Almonihah. Almonihah is a rather imposing specimen, standing well over six feet tall. He looks a lot like a human covered in bronze scales, complete with claws. He doesn't have any hair, though he does have a strange... fin or frill on that runs from his forehead to the base of his neck. When it's fully erect its tip must be over seven feet off the ground. He also has a rather impressive pair of wings on his back, about where his shoulder blades are. I at first thought he was angry at me when he spoke, because his voice sounds very rough and harsh, like he's growling. I later found that he tends to almost roar when he's angry. He moves with a certain lithe grace, rather like a jungle cat, and tends to get as restless as a caged animal.

Garkhen, while shorter due to his dwarven ancestry, is more broad-shouldered than his taller companion, also no doubt due to his dwarven ancestry. If Almonihah is built like a lean jungle cat, Garkhen is built like a bear. A very short bear. If one were to see him in his full armor—which is a very common way to see him, apparently—one might think him a warrior who spent all his time building his strength and preparing for battle. A brief conversation with him, however, reveals that, while he does have a certain amount of skill in weapons, his true calling is that of a priest. He is a Warder of Bahamut, the God of Goodly Dragons, and as such, is something of a protector-priest. His voice is surprisingly soft and pleasant, much at odds with his heavily-built frame, with just a hint of a rumble to it, like the pleasant rumble of distant thunder when you're safe and warm in bed. Unlike Almonihah, whose head is mostly humanlike, Garkhen's head is much more draconic, though shorter and blunter than a full dragon's head. He is, of course, covered from head to toe in blue scales.

I think this is sufficient description for my purposes. I'm assuming that you know what griffons look like, though Zakhin'Dakh is unusually large for a griffon—more the size of an elephant than a horse, though longer and leaner than an elephant, of course. So, now that you know what they look like, let me describe briefly the structure of my volume. It consists of four books, possibly more if I add to it later, of which the first three describe, respectively, the individual histories of Almonihah, Garkhen, and Zakhin'Dakh, and the fourth describing their travels together. I hope to speak to them again later, assuming they survive their current journey... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's just jump into things. I had all three of them there, as I said, and I asked Almonihah to describe his childhood. He snorted (he does that quite a lot, I found), and after a moment, said in his very blunt way, “I didn't have much of a childhood. You're not really a child anymore after you watch your mother die...”

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Author's notes:

I don't know what it is with me and frame stories. Even my shortest stories tend to have some kind of frame story around them. I guess it I feel like it makes the story feel more like it's part of some other world. Having someone from the world telling the story instead of just having an impersonal voice speaking from who-knows-where makes it feel more real, at least to me. So, this is the frame story. You won't be seeing as much of Mage-Archivist Elque as the characters he introduces, but he will remind us now and then that he is the one writing this story.

Yes, there is a story (or at least a reason) behind his name, and no, I'm not going to tell you what it is right now.

Draezoln FAQ

Funny how I'm writing the "Frequently Asked Questions" section before anyone has actually asked me any questions... I guess FAQ is one of those terms that has experienced semantic drift. Anyways, to the FAQ!

1) What in the world is Draezoln?

Actually, it is a world. Draezoln is (one of) the names for the world this novel is set in. More info can be found on this page. (Note that the page indicated is still a work in progress)

2) Half-dragons!?

Yes, two of my protagonists are half-dragons. I have good reasons for this, which I don't particularly feel like explaining, but trust me. It wasn't a "dragons r cool so I'll use halfdragony guys!" decision. You'll find that being half-dragon means some interesting things for the characters.

2b) And your other protagonist is a griffon?

That's completely his fault. He was supposed to just be a mount for Almonihah Zrathanzon, but he insisted on developing a personality and a character all his own. Sometimes these things just happen.

3) Speaking of Almonihah Zrathanzon, why do you use his first name as a screen name?

Because I like the name and I'm too lazy to come up with a new one. To avoid confusion, and to avoid writing "Almonihah Zrathanzon" over and over again, I'll often refer to him as A.Z., but don't let him catch you doing it...

4) Umm... why did one of your characters respond to my comment?

They have a life of their own sometimes. Trust me. I have to live with them.

5) Wouldn't site X be better for this type of thing?

If it's free and easy to use, it probably would. I have no particular attachment to Blogspot, it was just a site I knew about that was free. If I like whatever site you suggest well enough, I might even switch.

6) Hmm... Tiamat and Bahamut, metallic and chromatic dragons... sounds familiar...

Garkhen, A.Z., and Zakhin'Dakh were originally characters in a D&D party. However, after how much time and effort I invested into getting to know them, I felt they needed a chance to tell their story in a world that was... mostly free from the excesses of D&D. That being said, there were a few elements of D&D that I felt were too vital to them for me to eliminate from the setting. This was one of them. I could have renamed the deities, but I felt I might as well be honest and not pretend I'd made them up on my own like the rest of the pantheon.

If you have any other questions, ask them in the comments to this post, and I might answer in the FAQ.

What is this "blog"?

Well, it's not really a blog. "But this is a blogging site!" you say? I see it as a free place I can post text. That's all I really need, because what this really is is an experiment to see if I'll actually get past the first ten pages of a novel I'm writing if I actually have some feedback. So this is actually kind of a web novel, with my comments (and hopefully your constructive comments, too) on the chapters.

If you still have questions, the next post is the "Draezoln FAQ", so you might be able to find an answer there.