Chapter 10 - Eldest of Clan Arkanan

[Discourse #3]

I looked toward the “guest” in my lair. Now there must be many questions running through your mind about what sort of human—or rather dragon, I suppose—could kill all of his siblings without remorse. I had already passed my third tribulation and made this area my lair. Well, no need to worry; I will assuage your curiosity.

My birth, as a human, was a difficult one, or so my father tells me. The process eventually ended up killing my mother, which devastated my father. Still, he kept those feelings bottled and pent up inside, determined to raise me as best as possible for a single parent. He never remarried, solely focusing on his merchant work. If you look at it from a different perspective, I suppose my mother’s death was a good motivational factor for my father, who was, at best, a mediocre merchant.

His definition of rearing a child was just overseeing my basic needs. Thus, as soon as he saw I was sufficiently independent, he gave me full reign. Left to my own devices at the age of ten, I thoroughly explored everything, ranging from watching wounded deer die from infection and hunters' arrows to stealing small kisses from girls my age. What could I say? We traveled a lot. You could say I had a little adventurous streak inside me.

Most kids my age would be suckling on candies or playing childish games with others their age, but I would observe people in taverns and workers in shops. I had even persuaded the mistress of the brothel in one of the local towns to let me in to see the inner workings. Of course, I had to smooth my way in with a few silver coins before she finally gave in. Nonetheless, that was an interesting experience—an atmosphere filled with strange emotions and sounds of pleasure, some of which seemed false to me.

The first time I realized I was a little different from others was when a drunk from a caravan described me. The words—I can still remember it crystal clear—went like this: “Well, aren't you a right little bastard.” I know it was not a good description.

Curious as to why he would describe me that way, I asked the swaggering guard for the reason. This was his reply:

“You have the coldest blue eyes I have ever seen on a person. That, and you have the look of a noble bastard.” He chuckled to himself as if it were the funniest thing ever, as if he weren't insulting a ten-year-old child. With that morsel of a statement left behind, he swaggered toward his post, just like the way he came in to take a piss. I stared for a moment at the little pool of urine he had left at the base of the tree before I went back.

Truth be told, I did not feel any surprise at that revelation. I suppose, in some small part of my mind, I already knew that I was different. That is to say, at best, I was an indifferent “bastard”—a mind with most emotional aspects dampened, one could say. I realized then that this trait of mine was the reason my father left me to my own devices. Don't get me wrong; he was a good father; he made sure I never lacked money.

True to the words of that guard, there was not much that could elicit reactions from me. That said, the fainting episode when I realized I had been reborn was a rare exception. After all, who wouldn't be surprised?

This little trait of mine had helped me survive so far and was the reason I did not dwell on the death of everything and everyone I had known when I was human. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. It was that little trait, my unbridled curiosity, and an almost unrelenting need to survive.

Now then, my guest, I will get on with my story of meeting the eldest of my clan. It goes without saying, but I would not tell my guest everything and leave out the dragon secrets.

----

“Hurry up, Verath! We do not want to keep the eldest waiting,” Mother said impatiently. “We still have a long distance to cover.”

“I cannot fly as fast as you, Mother,” I replied, exerting all my effort to barely keep pace with her speed. “Perhaps we could go faster if you helped me out.” I eyed her back, then looked back at her face, meeting her green eyes to hint at my idea.

She sighed and muttered a little to herself about the follies of giving birth to a brood of wyrms and their relative weaknesses. “Very well.”

With that, my mode of travel was decided, and our speed increased significantly, or rather, my mother flew faster. After all, I did not need to do anything as I was settled in an almost comfortable position on her back. I was thankful that Mother did not have any spikes on her back like Blue and Yellow did; theirs were still growing and were the exact opposite of formidable. Thus, I could even lie down on her back and have enough space to stretch lazily, but the view below her caught my attention.

It was a series of backgrounds interchanging: lakes, mountains, small plains, and forests. And as often as not, I would sometimes see another full-grown dragon like Mother traveling who knows where. It was unusual that I did not see many dragons. I guessed that the population of Astlan, the old generation dragons, was small but elite, I thought, reflecting on the first tribulation. Yes, that made much sense, I nodded to myself against the torrents of wind buffeting my face due to my mother’s furious flying.

I also had not seen any dragons belonging to Xieth, the collective name for the lesser dragons, most of whom could not fly. They were also generally much, much smaller than Astlan dragons and not very intelligent. Perhaps dragons from Xieth were not allowed in these areas, as they were most likely the territories of Astlan.

After almost a full day of travel and changing scenery, Mother told me we had arrived. The scenery I arrived at, however, was shocking, to say the least. I was at the base of a mountain that made Mother look tiny in comparison. And that was saying a lot. Night had fallen, and the twin moons were shining brightly. I could still see clearly, however, as I had relatively good night vision, aided by the moonlight.

The mountain looked as normal as any other mountain except for its obvious size; you know the deal: small tufts of dry shrubs growing in random areas, a few trees interspersed here and there, and a wide array of rocks. That was as far as the similarities went, though. At the base of the mountain, there was a huge, dark entrance. To be precise, it was a large half-oval hole that three dragons of Mother’s size could fit through at the same time. There was also a strange symbol of a fire wrapped around a darker red liquid in the shape of a tear just above the entrance. Perhaps it was the symbol of our clan, I thought.

“There it is, the home of the eldest of our Arkanan clan,” Mother said to me while looking at the entrance with what appeared to be, dare I say it, nervousness.

Although Mother was not exactly helping my tension with her nervousness, I still felt quite calm as curiosity overpowered the rest of my emotions, as mitigated as they were.

“Follow me,” the huge emerald dragon said, not even looking back once to see if I was following as she headed toward the entrance. Naturally, she assumed that a mere wyrm would not dare disobey his superior and mother.

Her assumption was correct, as I followed her, walking upright, into the dark entrance without a complaint; the hierarchy of dragons, as explained by Mother, was absolute and foremost in my mind.

Inside the mountain, I saw that I was in a passageway. I could hear the heavy footfalls of my mother as she led on with me following obediently. Twenty paces in—my mother’s, of course—with only the sound of our breathing accompanying our steps, we arrived before an enormous door, which was similar in shape and size to the entrance. The door was entirely black and plain-looking, resembling the obsidian rocks I had seen as a child while visiting foreign vendors. The only difference was that I could sense a strange, heavy presence emanating from the door. Intriguing, to say the least.

Suddenly, Mother let out a huge breath of fire that almost covered the obsidian-like door, illuminating the whole passageway. The light lasted only for a brief moment, however, as the door sucked in the flames with a hungry desire, lighting up with a small, circular glow of satisfaction around the middle. After Mother had breathed fire on the seemingly living door, a glowing circle appeared in the center.

Not wasting a second, Mother walked up to the door, and without hesitation, went through it entirely. I had expected a great collision to occur as she walked into the closed door, but nothing happened except that she disappeared completely into it. It was as if the door had sucked her inside.

Not one to distrust my senses, which told me that what had happened was reality, I followed suit. Tinged with curiosity, I went through the door. No sensation accompanied me except for a stronger glow of light.

Looking around, I saw that I was in a huge, hollow cave-like room that could fit more than a few dozen full-grown dragons inside. Interspersed evenly on the rocky walls of the room were rocks that looked to be glowing. They lit the room brightly, and my eyes adjusted to the change in lighting instantly.

As interesting as the surroundings were, what truly caught my attention was the throne about fifty feet in front of me and Mother, who was in a respectful posture as a sign of deference to the man sitting on it. Situated in the middle of the room, the throne was majestic and entirely black, possibly made of the same material as the door.

But what was even more impressive was the human—or was it a dragon? I was perplexed, and many conjectures were running through my mind. The human had long, white hair that would have made snow appear darker in comparison, and he had his eyes closed, as if deep in contemplation. In an extremely rigid yet somehow relaxed sitting posture, with his limbs resting on the respective footrests and handholds of the throne, he had an intimidating air that made Mother feel like a mere child in his presence.

The emerald dragon gave me a quick look, snapping me out of my reverie. Without hesitation, I went beside her and adopted a respectful posture just a few feet away from the eldest of our clan. The “human” on the throne, however, did not deign to open his eyes, ignoring both of us. I could not even hear him breathing; it was as if we stood before a statue.

Minutes passed, but Mother remained calm, her face betraying none of her emotions. I knew, however, that her indifferent expression belied her impatience.

Then I heard the footfalls of three creatures, one of which I judged to be heavy enough to be a full-grown dragon. Looking back, I saw a huge blue dragon, along with two other wyrms obediently following the adult. Judging by the two horns on the blue dragon, he was male, while both wyrms were female, having three horns to signify that. One wyrm was green, while the other was a soft white.

They came up to us and adopted similar postures of respect, but not before the blue dragon gave Mother a slight nod. Mother did not acknowledge it with a nod in reply, so I guessed it was a nod of deference. With all of us in a line, I could now tell that the emerald dragon, who was my mother, was the largest of us all by a far cry. Now all we needed to do was wait for the eldest on the throne, I thought.

As if hearing my thoughts or perhaps sensing that we had all arrived, the white-haired human dressed in a simple black robe opened his eyes. The first thing I noticed about them was that they were a deep brown. I could tell that those eyes had seen everything, as they almost seemed to ooze age.

“You may leave now, brood-keepers. I wish to be alone with these children,” the eldest said, his voice a soft whisper that seemed to reach us all as if we were standing right next to him.

A quick look of surprise flashed before it winked out instantly on the two adult dragons. “By your command, eldest,” they said before turning around and heading out toward the door.

Those ancient brown orbs of the eldest of our clan then settled on us. “Interesting,” the eldest said. “So this generation of wyrms that survived are green, white, and black.”

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard a brief pause before the eldest said black.

“You may all leave this place now, except for the black one,” the eldest commanded.

Having heard his order, the two wyrms quickly left in fear of the eldest. Apprehension filled me as I was the only one singled out. Could he have sensed that I was different from the other wyrms? I dared not run, however, knowing the difference in power between us. I was pretty sure those ancient eyes themselves could have overwhelmed me and rooted me right to the spot. It seemed my only choice was to wait, so I did exactly that.

A soft laughter emerged from the mouth of the pale eldest on his throne. “Relax, young wyrm, I will not harm you. I am just curious about your appearance. After all, I have seen the rise and fall of numerous kingdoms, the deaths of dozens upon dozens of dragons, and the ancient beings that deign to walk this world when I was just a mere babe, but never have I seen the color black on a dragon.”

So the eldest was just curious about my appearance, I thought, sighing in relief to myself. I was also quite curious about the eldest's appearance. In a way, we were both similar in this regard.

A strange, small smile formed on the face of the pale, white-haired eldest. It gave me chills to see it, as it looked so abnormal with his ancient eyes and on a face that had possibly never smiled in a long, long time. “I can already feel my boredom lifting, my young black wyrm.” His ancient brown eyes turned a smoldering red as he rested them on me.

Hot red flames suddenly sprouted in random areas all around the room before instantly becoming extinguished. It was as if it had never occurred; so quick were the flames that they ceased to exist. In front of me, the eldest stood up, and I could now see his impressive height, which would have made him stand out in any given human dwelling.

“Meet your new brood-keeper, young wyrm,” the eldest said, his powerful, ancient, smoldering red-brown eyes freezing me right to my spot.