Chapter 3-2

Garkhen nodded in understanding, looking at what was so hidden. There was a small podium, with a large book, bound and decorated with precious metals and gems. Without knowing why, he slowed, noting as he did that Solkh'Tolkharkha also approached respectfully... reverently, even. When they drew near the book, Garkhen noted that he could see no title on the book.

What is it? He asked, almost whispering.

Men call it by many names—perhaps because so few know of it, that those who do each name it for themselves before they learn of what others have called it. Perhaps the most common name their scholars have for it is “The Book of the Law of Bahamut”.

Garkhen was silent a moment, thinking this over. And what do dragons call it? 

Solkh'Tolkharkha waved a hand slightly. Writing is an invention of Men. For most dragons, they do not think of such things. For those of us who do, it is enough to say it is The Book. 

The young half-dragon frowned a little as he thought. Was this then not written by a dragon?

His transformed mentor shook his head. It was written by the first of mingled blood to join our number, back when the races of Men were young in this world and there were still many who remembered the voice of the Gods. 

It took Garkhen a little while to take this in, then he inhaled sharply. Now the precaution of hiding it made sense. Is it still...

It has been well cared-for, by both mundane and magical means. Save for a... brief lapse in guardianship, which I... corrected. Solkh'Tolkharkha's tone suggested it had not been a pleasant experience for whoever had been responsible for the lapse. It was made to be read, and read it you shall. I doubt you shall find that unpleasant.

Garkhen shook his head slightly, still awed by the history before him. Hesitantly he took the last few steps toward it, then looked back at his mentor. At his encouraging nod, the young half-dragon opened the book and began to read.

When first they looked on the emptiness of creation, they thought it not fit for it so to be. And so they gathered their powers and began to create...

It would be wise to rest now.

Garkhen was startled by his mentor's voice, but recognized the patient tone. He had stayed up too late in the library again. 

He opened his mouth to answer, and surprised himself with a yawn. Clearly he had been reading too long. Regretfully, he closed the book and made his way to the small side cavern he slept in.

The next morning Solkh'Tolkharkha awoke him at his usual time, which felt far too early this morning. To Garkhen's disappointment, they did not go to the library after breakfast, but to a smaller chamber off the main portion of the lair. He had been here only a few times before, and knew this was where the gold dragon kept a few of Men's weapons. 

A Warder must always be prepared to fight in the defense of others, Solkh'Tolkharkha said, when they had both entered the room. A dragon would fight with claws and teeth, but for you, it would be wise to learn the use of tools of war. Choose whichever you wish, and we will begin. 

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Gasp! A post that's on time? Can it be? Yes, it is!

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3: Warding Against the Future

The common conception of dragons among the Races of Men is that they are somewhat like territorial predators, suffering no competing dragon to approach. The truth... is much more complicated, as is often the case. A complex social order exists among dragons, even between chromatic and metallic dragons. Man's idea of the lone dragon is largely a product of too little observation and too short a viewpoint, for dragon relationships are centuries in the making and may last for thousands of years.

Garkhen remembered little later of the rest of that day, of the flight home, or of falling asleep exhausted just as dawn began outside his mentor's lair. Solkh'Tolkharkha let him sleep for a time, but still he awoke the young half-dragon before he was truly rested.

Come, my young Initiate, the gold dragon rumbled, It is time to begin down the path you have chosen.

So... you will train me in the ways of Bahamut, sir? Garkhen asked.

Solkh'Tolkharkha nodded. And in the ways of a Warder in particular. He shifted into his human form. Come, let us go to the library. We will begin there.

The great library chamber was Garkhen's favorite place in his mentor's lair, but the shapeshifted dragon led him to a corner that he had somehow never noticed before. Glancing back, Solkh'Tolkharkha must have caught the puzzled expression on his young charge's face.

It is hidden from the eyes of those who are not Warders, he explained.

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Yes, I know, I'm horribly late. Oh, well.

Chapter 2-8

Solkh'Tolkharkha exchanged polite Draconic greetings with the ancient dragon. After that was done, the Guardian asked, Who do you bring before me, young gold? 

This is a young half-dragon, whom I have raised and taught, and who has chosen this path of his own free will, sir, Solkh'Tolkharkha replied respectfully.

The huge dragon turned his gaze on Garkhen. Despite having claws as big as he was and being able to fit a couple dozen of him in his cavernous maw, Garkhen found he wasn't afraid... just nervous. Or perhaps it would be better to say he feared not for his life, but to fail whatever test he was facing. 

The Guardian spoke. And what is your name, child of man and dragon? 

I am called Guardian of Small Dragons, sir, Garkhen ze'Darkhen'Sem'dor replied. 

The Guardian was quiet for a moment. I see, he rumbled, then paused again. A name most appropriate for the path you would walk, though not the one you were given at birth. Somehow he made his words both a statement and a question.

Garkhen shook his head. I know not that name, sir, just as I have no memory of my mother. This is all I have ever had for a name.

And will you make it yours, hatchling? The Guardian gazed straight down at the young half-dragon, and somehow Garkhen felt like the dragon could see the answer in his soul before he said it aloud.

Yes. That is why I have come here. Any doubts he had once had seemed to be evaporating, as if burned away in the heat of the great dragon's gaze.

You will walk this path of your own choice, despite all pain and sorrow you will face?

Yes.

Then tell me. What is the path you will walk?

Garkhen was silent for a long moment, collecting his thoughts, thinking of how to say what he felt and thought. I will stand as a protector of the innocent from the malevolent. I will shine as a light in the darkest of hours. I will set my hand against those who stretch their hands to seize the lives and hopes of others. I will... be a Guardian of what is good.

For a long time the ancient dragon was quiet, staring at Garkhen. He felt as if the power of his scrutiny was greater than the heat of his breath. After what seemed like an eternity, the Guardian relaxed, slightly shifting his position.

Then I accept you into our ranks, young Guardian of Small Dragons. By my power and authority as Master of the Order of the Gold, I hereby declare and ordain you to be an Initiate of the Order of the Copper, a Warder of Bahamut. Learn well from your teacher here, he nodded slightly at Solkh'Tolkharkha, and follow what you have said, and you may yet see and do things that will long be remembered by both Man and Dragon.

While Garkhen was still taking this in, the Guardian turned and rose up slightly, addressing the cavern. Let us greet Garkhen ze'Darkhen'Sem'dor into our number! He roared. This close, Garkhen could feel the power of his voice hit him like a hammer, shaking his very bones.

Garkhen ze'Darkhen'Sem'dor! Somehow the response from the cavern seemed louder too, as if he were the focus of all voices in the cavern. And he supposed, for this moment, he was.

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Draconic has a lot of ways to indicate respect, given or deserved, so all the 'sirs' running around here are just a poor attempt to indicate where someone's speaking respectfully. You know, there's a way a younger dragon speaks to an older one, a much older one, and one who just might bite his head off, and there are several ways for that older one to speak back, and... yeah, you get the point, right?

Chapter 2-7

Garkhen let out a quiet sigh as the hymn ended. The echoes of hundreds of draconic voices slowly died in the cavern, replaced by the muted sounds of scales and claws shifting on stone as dragons settled down into more comfortable positions. Solkh'Tolkharkha and Zerkheth coiled loosely on either side of Garkhen, and Garkhen simply sat back on the floor, one hand resting lightly on the stone beside the thick base of his tail.

Suddenly the crystals around the cavern dimmed, save for one high up above. Craning his neck, the young half-dragon could see another gold-scaled dragon glittering in the light. While it was difficult to tell, he got the impression that it was huge, vaster even than Solkh'Tolkharkha, which meant he was very old indeed, even among dragons. Something seemed... different about him, as well, though at this distance Garkhen could make out too little detail to be certain what it was. 

He only barely had time to register the profound silence of the cavern before the huge dragon spoke.

My siblings in the ways of Bahamut, he began. His voice rang out, echoing through the caverns, and even their vastness could not disguise the power of his speech. It has been nearly two centuries since we who follow in the wake of the Platinum Dragon have gathered. Much has happened... and we are even fewer than before.

There was a hushed silence as he paused. But let us not dwell on that. There is much to discuss, but we are not without joy in these times. Let the new initiates be presented!

After a moment, two dragons flew over from one of the other entrances into the grand cavern—one large, one small. While Garkhen could not make out their voices, he was fairly certain that the older one introduced the younger to the great dragon who had spoken, who then proceeded to question the younger dragon. After several minutes the two dragons returned to their perch, and the great dragon roared out, Let us greet Kharelvekh to our number!

In unison, all the other dragons roared, Kharelvekh! Garkhen could almost feel his head ringing with the echoes of that roar.

This process was repeated several times. As they watched, Garkhen asked, What is his name?

Solkh'Tolkharkha answered without turning his head. His name has long since been forgotten, by all but a few. He is known to us now only as Guardian.

Garkhen's eyes widened in surprise. Guardian in Draconic was... Garkhen. 

We will go next, should you still desire to walk this path, Solkh'Tolkharkha rumbled quietly. The young half-dragon nodded.

As the pair currently speaking with the Guardian departed, the great gold dragon gently picked his young charge up in one claw and flew up and across the cavern. As they approached, Garkhen could appreciate just how huge the ancient dragon truly was—easily more than a hundred feet long, perhaps closer to two hundred even from his snout to the tip of his tail. As Solkh'Tolkharkha glided in for a landing, Garkhen noted nervously that some of the massive dragon's scales were nearly as big as he was. Not only that, but he could now see what seemed odd about him—he did not quite look like other dragons. His scales seemed sharper-edged, he had more horns, and small spikes on his back, knees, and tail, and there was simply a... feeling about him, one of raw, barely contained power. Yet the look in his eyes was one of ages-won wisdom, and behind it a deep, profound sorrow.

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A longish chapter split up into smallish parts, but we're actually nearing the end. Now good night.

Chapter 2-6

They fought for untold ages, but always their battles were inconclusive. Bahamut and Tiamat used their greatest champions as vessels for their power, but even so neither could gain the advantage. Finally all dragons gathered together for one great conflict—the battle which those men who know of it call in their ignorance the War of Falling Dragons. Terrible that battle was, so terrible that it tore at the very fabric of Draezoln. At this moment the one called Jivenesh came, and at his coming the world would have been destroyed, had not Naishia, Bahamut, and even Tiamat joined together to bind him and cast him down. 

Even so, the battle and its coming had left a scar—what men now call the Madlands—and only shattered remnants of dragonkind, the smallest and weakest who had been at the furthest edges of the battle, still lived. But even these were greater than all that live today, save for the few who still live from that time (Garkhen's eyes widened slightly at this. He had not heard that any who saw the War of Dragon's Falling still lived.). For in the ruins, the three gods spoke. Naishia plead that the world be left to grow without more disastrous wars, but that rather the two dragon gods would simply seek to influence the world in secret to bend to their will. Again, they agreed, though Tiamat only reluctantly, and ever have her followers sought opportunity to again shed the blood of Bahamut's children. 

Without the direct touch of their gods, dragons no longer grew to the great heights of power they once had, and what was more, they were soon no longer alone. For the battle had attracted others—the gods of the smaller races, who besought Naishia leave to create their children on her world. That she did not admit the part of Bahamut and Tiamat in the creation of Draezoln shows the secret pride in her heart. When Tiamat learned of this, her rage was terrible, but Bahamut opposed her, and so the lesser races came to be.

In silent remembrance of our war, we did not watch as the lesser races spread throughout Draezoln. But now it is theirs more than ours, and so our war and our pride may be our ruin. Yet ever is our duty the same—to oppose Tiamat, to see that life in whatever form flourishes and lives without fear of fire and death. In so doing we will preserve both the lesser races and ourselves, for of a truth Bahamut teaches that all life is connected, and all are reduced by unnecessary suffering.

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Sorry for the late post. Again. Apparently I only remember this on Monday when I go to bed.

Anyway, this is the end of the summarized translation of the dragon's hymn. One thing I'm not sure has come up before is how young the human-like races of Draezoln are--they've only been around a couple thousand years at this point. There's a bit of a hint at that in this story, but that isn't something I"m keeping secret.

Chapter 2-5

Zerkheth was silent for a moment. Yes, of course, sir, he finally said.

They said no more for the moment. Garkhen could tell they were nearing the source of the singing—the swelling sound of draconic voices seemed to vibrate the very stone around them. Then they came around a corner, and the song seemed to thrum in his very bones.

The passageway they were in exited here into a huge cavern, so vast that even Solkh'Tolkharkha seemed tiny in comparison. Glowing crystals studded its walls, so that it seemed almost as bright as day within, revealing hundreds of dragons. They stood on various ledges or in entrances to tunnels all around the chamber. And they were all singing. Now that they were in the room itself, Garkhen could understand the words—a hymn to Bahamut.

Solkh'Tolkharkha and Zerkheth spread out along a ledge at the end of the tunnel they exited. Garkhen followed his mentor. Both of the dragons joined in the song, leaving the half-dragon to listen.

He realized soon that he recognized the story of the song, even though he had never heard it before. It was the tale of the creation—how Bahamut and Tiamat together had created the world. They had entered just at the part where they began to disagree on the nature of life on the surface of Draezoln. Quietly, Garkhen sat as the tale continued.

Tiamat wished a primal world of chaos, where only the strongest and fittest would survive the harsh environment and the fierce competition for its few resources. Bahamut desired a paradise, where life could flourish in harmony and grow together for all time. Eventually, their dispute turned to war, a war that nearly destroyed all they had already created. Finally, realizing their battle would destroy both of their visions, Bahamut called for a truce, and Tiamat reluctantly agreed. 

Despite agreeing that their battle could not continue, they still could not agree on its resolution. Their argument continued for ages, until they once again looked on Draezoln and found it full of life, and watched over by another—Naishia. Enraged, Tiamat sought to attack, but Bahamut sided with Naishia. Knowing what had gone before, and seeing what might happen again, Naishia proposed a compromise—both Bahamut and Tiamat would make creations to fight for them, and the winner of this battle would determine Draezoln's fate. 

Both agreed, and so created the races of dragonkind. Bahamut created the noble metallic dragons: golds, silvers, bronzes, and finally coppers. Tiamat created the savage chromatics (Garkhen glanced at Zerkheth, but saw no sign he was bothered by the description): reds, blues, greens, and whites. In this first creation, they were much larger and more powerful than modern dragons, and they went forth in great armies to battle one another.

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So yes, if I haven't made it clear before, Almonihah, Zakhin'Dakh, and Garkhen were originally D&D characters. I've tried to distance them from their source somewhat, but the colors of dragons and the battle between chromatics and metallics were too important to them for me to get rid of.

And yes, this doesn't quite match with the creation story Almonihah heard. Interesting, isn't it? :D

Chapter 2-4

A deep rumbling greeted them as the gold dragon and half-dragon walked into the cavern. It echoed through the winding passageways, seeming to come from all around them as Solkh'Tolkharkha led the way onward. At first, Garkhen thought it was the earth itself rumbling, then that it was the sound of many dragons speaking, but finally he realized what it was—dragons singing. He could not quite make out the meaning of what was being sung, but the sheer power of the singing was itself awe-inspiring.

Garkhen was just about to ask his mentor about the song when another dragon stepped into the passageway from a side tunnel ahead of them. He was a large, green-scaled dragon—somewhat unusual to see in a setting like this, but not unknown. He saw Solkh'Tolkharkha and greeted him—with his full name, no less.

It is good to see you again, my friend, the green dragon said. Then he looked down at Garkhen. And who is this with you? It is unusual to see any of mixed blood here, much less one of chromatic blood. 

Greetings, Zerkheth, Solkh'Tolkharkha replied, then added, My charge here is called Garkhen ze'Darkhen'Sem'dor, 

“Guardian of Small Dragons?” The other dragon, Zerkheth, repeated in the Common Tongue, surprised, before switching back to Draconic. An unusual name, to be sure. Well, Garkhen ze'Darkhen'Sem'dor, I am glad to see another of similar blood to my own in the company of Bahamut. I hope you will continue in this path, and not fall prey to the passions of our brethren.

Thank you, sir, Garkhen responded, giving the green dragon something of a bow.

Zerkheth nodded back, then started down the passageway, talking as he went. I trust you have heard the reason for this Convocation? He continued without waiting for an answer. The news is most troublesome... but even more is the debate about how to proceed. That some of our number should be so involved in the affairs of Men...

We long ago gave the world over to Men by our own negligence, Solkh'Tolkharkha interrupted. If we are to be involved in anything beyond our lairs, we must be involved in the affairs of Men.

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So, a day late, but still, it's a post! A fairly important one, too, though given that these books are basically the highlights of my characters lives, most everything is important.