Airgid whipped her head back towards the sky, brushing her white blond hair from her eyes. She didn’t even need to search to see the dark shape against the brightness of the sky. She turned back towards the villagers who by now were all looking at the sky in stupefied wonder. Absolute silence reigned in the village square for another second and then chaos erupted as the alarm bell sounded. A woman screamed and children began to cry. Men shouted for weapons and mothers ran around looking for their missing children. A loaf of the baker’s bread fell from his market table and rolled across the ground crushed beneath the rush of feet.
Airgid watched as the shape in the sky grew bigger. Drokbar walked up to her side, also looking towards the sky. “You have to look to see what the color of the dragon is,” he said. “You can tell a lot about the dragon by seeing what color it is.”
She looked at him in surprise and he gave her a sideways glance and flushed bright red. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I’ve learned a few things. I listen.”
She looked at him for a second longer and nodded, turning back to the sky. “You’re right,” she said. “If it is red or black then we may as well sing a song to the goddess and enjoy our last moments.”
Drokbar’s flushed face paled. “We haven’t had reds or blacks come to the village since before I was born. Before the mayor was even born.”
“We haven’t had any dragons at all for that long. So what makes you think we’ll be lucky enough to get a dragon in a good mood?” The voice came from behind them and neither looked away from the sky as Lanfin walked up beside them. He was an old crusty badger of a man, but he had once been a great warrior, or so the stories said. Lanfin had fought in the Napir wars when the Napirese barbarians had tried to invade the Pashtuan. The stories said that Lanfin had singlehandedly killed seventy Napirese barbarians, but no one really knew. Lanfin refused to talk of the war, saying he was nothing but an old farmer now.
Lanfin didn’t look like any farmer. He looked exactly like the warrior in the stories that the villagers told behind his back. Now, he held a broadsword that was so heavy he had to hold it with both hands. Drokbar eyed the sword. “Have you ever fought a dragon before, Lanfin?”
Lanfin paused and grimaced. “I have.”
The pause made Drokbar look from the sword to Lanfin’s face. “And?”
The warrior smiled mockingly. “I fought a red dragon. Do you know what red dragons are like, boy?”
Drokbar shifted and stood up straighter. “Of course, I do. Mean, nasty things. They’d sooner eat you or burn you to a crisp.”
Lanfin nodded. “That’s right.”
“So?” Drokbar asked.
“So,” Lanfin echoed. “I got one good stab in and I ran for it. Made it too.”
Drokbar nearly choked in his indignation. “You ran for it? I thought you were a great warrior.”
“You only know of me as a warrior because I ran, boy. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been alive to fight in that war.”
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Chapter one Part two
Out of the corner of her eye, Drokbar caught her attention. The seventeen year old’s wide eyed innocent look and his jerky attempt at casually strolling towards the busy baker alerted any paying attention that Drokbar was about to cause trouble…again. Everyone enjoyed Drokbar’s pranks, as long as they weren’t focused on them, and the commotion quieted to a hum as the villagers pretended to go about their work whilst keeping an eye on Drokbar to see what he was going to do.
Airgid paused with a chunk of bread halfway to her mouth as she saw Drokbar stiffen. The hum died down even more as the people recognized the boy was about to strike. The unsuspecting baker, kneeling on the ground in front of his oven as he attempted to stoke the flames to the proper temperature, was oblivious to the tension in the surrounding villagers. Drokbar scooted closer to the baker and his hand slowly came out of right coat pocket. Airgid sat up and leaned forward trying to get a look at what the boy was holding and noticed the villagers around the bakery weren’t even pretending to work anymore, but were leaning forward as intently as she was. Drokbar’s hand left his pocket and Airgid stifled a laugh as she saw it was a spider sparkler. The little fireworks were totally harmless, but the sparks of fire could be quite a surprise to the unsuspecting.
Airgid shook her head and popped the last piece of bread in her mouth wondering how Drokbar was planning on getting out of the baker’s sight before he was caught. She leaned forward again trying to see and frowned when she saw the baker and Drokbar still standing in the same place. The baker was still oblivious with his head almost in his oven and Drokbar standing over the baker with the firework poised over the baker’s loose pants. But Drokbar wasn’t looking at the baker. Instead he was looking into the sky with his hand shading his eyes.
The spider dropped from Drokbar’s hand and into the baker’s pants and the baker immediately jumped up howling and jumping around and smacking his pants as the sparks danced. The villagers laughter rang out across the town square and Airgid smiled. It faltered when she saw Drokbar still standing with his arm outstretched and staring into the sky seemingly unaware of the cursing baker shaking his fist in Drokbar’s face. Drokbar’s lips moved and she squinted trying to make out what he had said.
Airgid set her bread aside and walked out from under the pub’s overhang, glancing at the sky as she walked closer to Drokbar. His lips moved again and she thought she heard him say “It can’t be.” Drokbar stumbled back against the oven wall. “Dragon!!!” Drokbar screamed. “Dragon!!!” He turned desperately to the baker.
The baker’s frown faded away as he rubbed his rear in good humor. He patted Drokbar on the shoulder. “You got me there young Drokbar, good and fair, but I’m not going to believe a dragon dropped that spider down my pants.”
Drokbar grabbed the baker and spun him around violently. “Look!” He shouted jabbing his finger in front of the baker’s face and towards the sky.
The baker good-naturedly put his hand above his eyes to block the sun and squinted into the sky as his other hand continued to scratch. “Ohhh,” the baker said sarcastically, his droopy mustache quivering with laughter. “I see the dreaded dragon. Look at it swooping down and…” He trailed off and stopped rubbing. The baker’s face was perpetually red either from being too close to the oven fires or from eating too many of his own pastries, but the color seemed to fade from his cheeks and his chins wobbled as he stuttered. “D-d-dragon,” he whispered, trying to force the words out.
Airgid paused with a chunk of bread halfway to her mouth as she saw Drokbar stiffen. The hum died down even more as the people recognized the boy was about to strike. The unsuspecting baker, kneeling on the ground in front of his oven as he attempted to stoke the flames to the proper temperature, was oblivious to the tension in the surrounding villagers. Drokbar scooted closer to the baker and his hand slowly came out of right coat pocket. Airgid sat up and leaned forward trying to get a look at what the boy was holding and noticed the villagers around the bakery weren’t even pretending to work anymore, but were leaning forward as intently as she was. Drokbar’s hand left his pocket and Airgid stifled a laugh as she saw it was a spider sparkler. The little fireworks were totally harmless, but the sparks of fire could be quite a surprise to the unsuspecting.
Airgid shook her head and popped the last piece of bread in her mouth wondering how Drokbar was planning on getting out of the baker’s sight before he was caught. She leaned forward again trying to see and frowned when she saw the baker and Drokbar still standing in the same place. The baker was still oblivious with his head almost in his oven and Drokbar standing over the baker with the firework poised over the baker’s loose pants. But Drokbar wasn’t looking at the baker. Instead he was looking into the sky with his hand shading his eyes.
The spider dropped from Drokbar’s hand and into the baker’s pants and the baker immediately jumped up howling and jumping around and smacking his pants as the sparks danced. The villagers laughter rang out across the town square and Airgid smiled. It faltered when she saw Drokbar still standing with his arm outstretched and staring into the sky seemingly unaware of the cursing baker shaking his fist in Drokbar’s face. Drokbar’s lips moved and she squinted trying to make out what he had said.
Airgid set her bread aside and walked out from under the pub’s overhang, glancing at the sky as she walked closer to Drokbar. His lips moved again and she thought she heard him say “It can’t be.” Drokbar stumbled back against the oven wall. “Dragon!!!” Drokbar screamed. “Dragon!!!” He turned desperately to the baker.
The baker’s frown faded away as he rubbed his rear in good humor. He patted Drokbar on the shoulder. “You got me there young Drokbar, good and fair, but I’m not going to believe a dragon dropped that spider down my pants.”
Drokbar grabbed the baker and spun him around violently. “Look!” He shouted jabbing his finger in front of the baker’s face and towards the sky.
The baker good-naturedly put his hand above his eyes to block the sun and squinted into the sky as his other hand continued to scratch. “Ohhh,” the baker said sarcastically, his droopy mustache quivering with laughter. “I see the dreaded dragon. Look at it swooping down and…” He trailed off and stopped rubbing. The baker’s face was perpetually red either from being too close to the oven fires or from eating too many of his own pastries, but the color seemed to fade from his cheeks and his chins wobbled as he stuttered. “D-d-dragon,” he whispered, trying to force the words out.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Chapter one
So I've decided to publish my novel online as I write it. I'll be publishing a bit every day (ideally). Let me know what you all think in the comments please!! I could use the encouragement. And please follow the blog if you find it interesting!
A dramatic beginning to the story would have been if the dragon had appeared from nowhere. But it hadn’t. They saw it coming from fairly far off. Far enough away for panic to set in. Airgid was sitting on the windowledge of the pub across from the small village bakery eating a fresh piece of warm bread and watching the activity around her. She’d always enjoyed just sitting and watching people. Old Shanda grinned toothlessly at the plump baker’s assistant as she handed him a steaming loaf of bread. Drokbar, the town’s practical joker, his innocent look broadcasting to everyone that he was up to something again. Airgid had grown to love the people in this town, especially troublesome Drokbar.
The Story
A dramatic beginning to the story would have been if the dragon had appeared from nowhere. But it hadn’t. They saw it coming from fairly far off. Far enough away for panic to set in. Airgid was sitting on the windowledge of the pub across from the small village bakery eating a fresh piece of warm bread and watching the activity around her. She’d always enjoyed just sitting and watching people. Old Shanda grinned toothlessly at the plump baker’s assistant as she handed him a steaming loaf of bread. Drokbar, the town’s practical joker, his innocent look broadcasting to everyone that he was up to something again. Airgid had grown to love the people in this town, especially troublesome Drokbar.
She wasn’t from the sleepy village of Pashtu, but the villagers had adopted her as one of their own. She had stumbled into the valley of Pashtuana out of the Dragonsjaw mountains, bleeding and blackened, her body burned as if she had been pulled from a burning house and she was barely conscious. Drokbar had found her while herding sheep. Her paleness stood out in the meadow, even covered in ashes. He was brown from working under the sun and she looked nearly colorless with hair near as white as her skin.
Drokbar was only a young boy at the time, but already had a reputation as a jokester. The villagers hadn’t believed him so he stole one of the blacksmith’s horses, a cart from farmer Thaner and brought her into the village himself.
The bumping of the road as she lay in the back of the cart was excruciating. By the time Drokbar brought her to the village she was unconscious. Her clothes were burned to ash and blisters covered her skin. Red dragon, the villagers knew. Red dragons were very common in the dragonsjaw mountains as far as dragons went. Mean, jealous and prideful, they’d swoop out of the mountains and take what they wanted-jewels, gold and other treasures. Fortunately for the tiny village of Pashtu, there wasn’t anything the dragons wanted and they hadn’t had a dragon encounter in decades.
The villagers had nursed Airgid back to health and taken her in. Airgid couldn’t remember what had happened to her in the mountains or how she had gotten there. There was a blankness in her mind about the life she had lived before Pashtu that terrified her. Most of her life was missing. Whatever had happened during that time had almost led to her death. She knew she had been banished and could never return to her home hundreds of miles away, but even this banishment she couldn’t remember. She only knew because of the brand on her hip. A dragon with its wings drooping and its head to the ground, its tail curved under the dragon to meet the lowered head in a complete circle-a brand of exile. The skin had been burned deeply so that it stood out clearly. It was fresh when the villagers found her and even ten years later, the brand still ached on occasion.
Airgid had no idea what she had done to deserve the brand, but when she looked at it she felt such deep and anguished shame that she knew she was better off not knowing why. She was better not knowing why her family had banished her and hoped for her death in the Dragonsjaw mountains.
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