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Chapter 1- A Rude Awakening
Planet Derkesthai; Continent Tlivus; the date is
September 2nd of the year 58,273; 6:15 P.M.; Day 1.
Beneath closed eyes, Lessiam became aware
of the comforting heat of the distant sun setting
upon the flame-red horizon. The world was still, the
land vast.
Scrrreeeeellllllll! CRASH!!!! The ground
shook Lessiam’s peace to bits. He came to with a
start. Off in the distance he heard a cruel voice
bellowing out "Puuuusshh!!" He attempted to raise
his head to glimpse the source of the disturbance
but found he possessed a stiffness the likes of
which he’d never before experienced. He felt weak
and old, as if near death. After a moment, he again
tried to lift his head. It was becoming easier; soon
he managed to tilt his head down toward the noise.
The last traces of the setting sun could
still be seen in the west, but the sky was so dark
with smoke and dust that the only light that made it
through was in the form of bars of dust-laden
beams. Lessiam was yet able to make out the source
of the cacophony; dirty humans in scraps of clothing
were pushing huge rocks and boulders toward an open
cart with gears and levers attached to its side.
They were driven by a rough, unfriendly-looking man
who sat upon a large black horse. Plastered across
the man’s olive-complected face was a maniacal grin,
rotten teeth spilling out over his lips. He
screamed out frequent obscenities, with threats of
death. To reinforce his threats, he periodically
flipped a whip at the backs of the laborers—driving
many of them to the ground as they cowered from the
vicious blows.
Lessiam watched as the laborers managed to roll a
large, craggy boulder into the mouth of the
cart-like machine. Parts inside the machine's mouth
came together and quickly reduced the boulder to
small bits of debris, causing heavy, black dust to
billow out into the air around the slaves. With a
large crack came another ground-shattering
explosion. Huge chunks of rock fell around the
laborers from the mountainside above them, the
smaller pieces peppering them dangerously. Lessiam
shuddered as he came to the realization that these
people were working to demolish the rock and land!
He’d seen humans do some odd things in his time, but
nothing as outright destructive as this.
It
was then that he heard a whimper, followed by what
sounded like a sob. He felt a drop of something fall
upon his forehead—then another above his mouth. He
shot out his long tongue—hmmm, it was salty. He
looked up. Not six feet above him sat a small human
on a rock ledge. It was a lad of perhaps thirteen
years of age. His silvery-blonde hair clung to his
forehead and tear-streaked cheeks. It was clear that
absolute despair clung to his very being. In one so
young, the swaths of grey skin drooping below his
eyes looked horribly abnormal. Covering his scrawny
torso was a pair of dingy brownish strips that
looked to be the last pitiful remains of a
once-proud linen shirt. His threadbare, brown
breeches were truncated just below the knees. He was
unshod, his feet covered in filth; fresh cuts
bloodied his arches.
Lessiam wanted to help. He moved his left
arm up to wipe away the liquid. He could only move
slowly and with greater effort than he'd ever felt
before. Why did he feel so oddly stiff? Where did
this human come from?
Energy was slowly seeping back into him.
He lifted himself toward the lad. The young fellow
hadn't noticed him until now and, as soon as he did,
he leapt up and began to run up the slope like Death
itself was on his trail. About 15 yards along, he
stumbled, got up and then threw himself forward
again. Lessiam had always liked humans, but this day
was getting to be too much. Had they all gone mad?
He
stretched up and opened his wings wide and with a
loud creak. He stood there as debris fell off of
him. Once the dust had begun to settle, he surveyed
his surroundings. His gold-green eyes adjusted to
the lack of light and were met with black, craggy
rock and dead trees as far as he could see—which was
only about thirty miles with this poor light. He
noted that there were mountains all around him. In
his years he had flown most of the continent of
Tlivus and yet had never seen this strange, desolate
range.
Where was he? The last thing he could
remember before his nap was being at home in the
hills. He was in his cavern, playing with Krigsly,
his portly friend. He had been hunting earlier in
the day and had just eaten the stag he'd caught and
cooked. He'd been full when he fell asleep, but now
he felt absolutely famished. He looked down at his
belly. It had never been this small since he was a
pre-quad (younger than forty). He needed food. No
wonder he was so stiff. He must’ve slept way too
long!
It was then that he noticed a machine like
the one he’d been watching was coming around the
side of a mountain just a mile or so from him. It
was being rolled around the foot of the peak and was
getting closer to the mountain upon which he stood.
There was another bellowing man driving the other
slaves. He didn't look too friendly, and Lessiam
certainly wanted no confrontations before he got his
bearings. He figured he'd better move out. He began
to climb up the incline, progressing slowly. With
each new step, energy flowed into his body. “That’s
odd,” he thought.
After
some twenty minutes he reached the peak. He had not
come across the lad again. Only the occasional
explosion could now be heard of the sounds far
below. He sat and took in the surroundings. Two sets
of men were working on their rock projects. The
first group he’d noticed was still off in the
distance, while the second group was now setting up
at the foot of a nearby mountain. He looked down
and, some thirty yards below, he saw the lad who'd
run from him earlier. “Maybe he'd have some
answers.” Lessiam hoped to himself. He leapt off of
the peak into the air; there was no breeze. He flew
down to just in front of where the lad crouched,
trembling. He lit on the rough rock as quietly as he
could manage in his still-clumsy condition. He now
stood silently and observed the fellow. Again he was
crying deep, heaving sobs, with his head pushed down
towards his chest and knees.
Lessiam inched closer, “What's up?” he
whispered.
“Aiiihhhh!!!” The lad leapt up and backed
against the rock wall behind him, pinned in. He
brushed the tears away as his mouth clenched into a
firm and resolute line. Lessiam could nearly read
his thoughts. He would face his end with honor and
dignity.
“Why are you so scared?” Lessiam asked.
“Don't mess around with me,” the lad said.
“If you’re going to kill or eat me, then do it now
and get it over with! I don’t care anymore anyway!”
Lessiam snorted in amusement, "Eat you!
That’s insane! I don't think I’d like humans at
all—for food. Not to mention, most dragons don't
kill other creatures except in defense. You should
know that!"
That broke through the lad’s solid facade.
Hatred spilled into his face as his lips spat forth
one word, "Liar!” Then, with fists in the air, he
ran forward at Lessiam as if to attack.
Lessiam turned to one side to let the boy
pass wildly by. The lad hadn’t made it ten feet when
he stumbled and fell. He quickly rolled to his feet
and, seeing his chance to escape, he kept going. He
looked as if he was going to run all the way down
the mountainside.
“Well, that didn’t go too well”, Lessiam thought.
This just made matters worse. Where was his family,
his home, Krigsly? What was this lad talking about?
Eating and killing humans! Not him—not his kind.
Some bad things were afoot.
Watching from a new perch, some thirty minutes
later, Lessiam saw the lad slow to a ragged walk.
Seeing that the boy was struggling to stay on his
feet, Lessiam wondered how long he would be able to
go on. Ten minutes later he saw the lad stagger; he
had reached the ground in front of the mountain now.
Lessiam slowly began to rise. He had to find answers
somewhere. Sitting here watching peculiar humans do
peculiar things wasn’t getting him anywhere.
“I
know!” he concluded, “I will fly to the town of
Lexiter.” He knew his grandfather would know what he
should do. He began to open his wings, which had
been folded at his back. They still felt downright
crusty!
It
was then that he noticed three riders some three
hundred yards from the foot of the mountain. The
hoofs of their steeds pounded the earth in a rapid
rhythm, as they closed in on the hapless lad. One
rider looked like the man with the whip that Lessiam
had seen earlier —only this man had a sword out. The
other two riders held maces with spikes. This looked
like more trouble than this boy would survive.
The lad noticed the riders, a new
look of terror flashing across his young face. He
tried to run but was obviously too exhausted to have
any real chance of escape. The best he could manage
was a frantic limp back towards the mountain.
Lessiam had scared the lad off and so felt somewhat
responsible for his predicament. He'd better
intervene.
Note: "Derkesthai"
is the Greek source of the word "dragon" and means "to
see." |
