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.