Dracaldryr – Earlywinter, Year 3081 After Doom
Eltoar held himself close to Helios's body, the side of his head pressed against the back of the dragon's neck, his hands on Helios's black scales. Below, the light of the crescent moon glittered across the rippling ocean like a thousand shards of shattered glass.
Letting the air swell his chest, he leaned back, casting his gaze over the island of Dracladryr below them that jutted from the dark waters. Mountains covered the length and breadth of the island, their peaks capped with snow, their feet laced with rivers and forests of deep green. Thousands of eyries lay nestled into the mountainsides, enormous caverns as wide as ships. The old legends said that long before The Order was formed, long before the Jotnar and elves rode against each other in the Blodvar, thousands of years before even then, the island had been the home of the first dragons carved into existence by the Enkara, the gods. Eltoar wasn't quite sure he believed the old stories, but nonetheless, he had once spent many a night looking up at the stars from the eyries of Dracaldryr. In his time, the island had been a place where Draleid and dragons could find peace and solitude. It had been a sacred place.
Helios's wings shifted, angling downward. The familiar, almost euphoric feeling of weightlessness filled Eltoar's stomach as they plummeted. He closed his eyes, letting the wind crash over him, his legs held firm by Helios's scales. Centuries of dragonflight had trained Eltoar's muscles to ignore their natural reflex to tense. He trusted Helios, though to use the word trust felt wrong, for it didn't come close to the unwavering faith he held in his soulkin. They were not two. They were one. A single soul shared. Helios would betray Eltoar as much as the sun would betray its own light.
The dragon rolled, catching the winds that swept along the face of the mountains. Faster. Helios cracked his wings, then dropped, riding a current of air before rising again, stretching his wings to a point, lengthening his neck, and pulling his feet back. Eltoar leaned forward, pressing his body against Helios's warm scales. He reached out to the Spark, pulling on threads of Air, weaving them around Helios's body. He filled the space between Helios's scales, smoothing and rounding the air that encased them. Eltoar smiled as the mountains blurred to their right, the whistle of the wind almost deafening in his ears.
The world lurched as Helios folded his wings in, diving straight down, the face of the mountains flashing past, the dark ocean rising to meet them.
Eltoar drew in a deep breath, and Helios spread his wings, sweeping upward, the unseen force of the world pulling against him. Water sprayed into the air, tickling Eltoar's cheek as the dragon's clawed feet broke the surface. A momentary sadness touched Eltoar's mind when he sensed the unbridled joy that consumed Helios's heart. It wasn't a sadness born in opposition to the dragon's joy, but at the realisation that joy was too often lacking.
"Draleid n'aldryr, Helios," Eltoar whispered as he rested his forehead against the scales of the dragon's neck.
A deep rumble resonated through Helios's chest in response, followed by a flash of sorrow. Eltoar let his mind drift fully into Helios's as the dragon swept upwards, banking right, curling up and around a low peak of jagged rock. They stayed like that for some time, soaring through the open valleys of Dracaldryr, their minds wrapped together, the wind sweeping over their bodies, the low whistle filling their ears. Helios only slowed as they approached Mount Umar, the highest peak of Dracaldryr, upon which the great temple was perched.
As Helios rounded the face of a giant cliff, the valley ahead widened. A massive river bisected the valley, framed by forests of tall bushy-leafed trees, mountains rising on either side. Eltoar had seen that river many times. He had bathed in its waters, fished in its depths, and swum its length and breadth. It was the River Vahlin, which stemmed from beneath the great temple atop Mount Umar.
Helios dove, dropping so his talons left a rippling trail in the water, and his wings spread from bank to bank. Eltoar lifted his head, gazing up towards Mount Umar and the temple nestled near its peak. The great temple had existed for thousands of years – a shrine to the Enkaran Pantheon. Even from where he sat, thousands of feet below the temple itself, Eltoar could make out the enormous hundred-foot-high columns that supported the temple's stone porchway and the landing platform that jutted from the cliff face, large enough to hold ten dragons at any one time.
Helios swept through the valley, then up the face of Mount Umar before holding in the air above the platform, alighting on the cool stone, his talons clicking, dust and small rocks lifting in swirls.
A deep rumble echoed in the night, a vibration sweeping through the platform. Before them stood the hulking figure of Avandeer, the dragon to which Tivar was bound. The dragon was not a match for Helios in size, but her chest was deep, and her muscles were thick, her body still stretching almost a hundred feet from tail to snout. Scales of dull purple covered her body, growing lighter towards their edges, some as white as snow along her snout and the ridges of her eyes. The dragon lifted her head into the air, the bone-coloured horns that framed her face catching the light of the moon. Then, with another low rumble, she extended her neck, touching the side of her snout against Helios's.
Eltoar allowed a warm smile to touch his lips at the feelings of comfort and kinship that radiated from Helios's mind. The two dragons had hatched not long apart, Helios seeing only a few months more than Avandeer. Eltoar slid from his soulkin's back, pulling on threads of Air to soften his landing, his feet touching the smooth stone of the platform without so much as a sound. As he took a step forward, Avandeer pulled her neck to the side, dropping her head down and nudging Eltoar in the chest.
"I've missed you too." Eltoar rested his forehead against the tip of Avandeer's snout, his palm flat against its side. The dragon pushed into him, the warmth of her breath rolling over his skin. "She is inside?"
Avandeer nuzzled Eltoar a moment longer, then let out a short puff of air. She pushed her head against Helios and lifted herself into the air, her enormous wings spreading wide, a gust of wind swirling in her wake. Half a second and Helios followed after her. As the dragon dropped from the platform, spreading his wings in the valley below, a protective rumble resonated through his mind, images of Tivar flashing.
I won't push her. I promise. Eltoar filled his lungs with the cold night air as he turned and ascended the short staircase that led to the temple's entrance, the flickering orange-red glow of firelight from within casting shadows across the ground before him.
The great temple comprised a single enormous chamber that was six or seven times as long as it was wide, extending back into the mountain upon which it was built. Two rows of oil lanterns stood atop stone pedestals that framed the central floor of the chamber, bathing the large slabs of grey stone in firelight and flickering shadows. Behind the lanterns stood statues of each of the seven gods of the Enkaran Pantheon, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, each carved by hand millennia ago and preserved with Jotnar runes.
The statue of Achyron, The Warrior, stood by the entranceway: a young man, his face not quite human or elf. He had short hair and was encased from head to toe in plate armour, his hands clasped together on the pommel of a sword. Thirty feet further into the temple, the statue of Elyara, The Maiden, stood on the opposite side to Achyron, her long hair draped over her stone shoulders, a staff gripped in one hand, an open book in the other.
The statues continued on like that, in an alternating pattern, Hafaesir, Neron, and finally, the last statue that stood before those of Varyn and Heraya at the rear of the temple, was Efialtír, robes draped over his shoulders, a warm smile on his carved face, his hands spread wide in welcome. The depiction came from long before the god had been branded The Traitor or The Saviour. It had been carved millennia before Eltoar had taken his first breath, when Efialtír was known as The Warden, the caretaker of mind and body, the arbiter of life and death. If there was nothing else that would have told how ancient the great temple was, the inclusion of all seven gods would have been enough. It was only the presence of Efialtír's statue that had convinced Fane to leave the temple standing where he had reduced most all others to rubble.
Eltoar's footsteps echoed against the stone, amplified by the natural acoustics of the chamber, each step like the clattering of a sword. Ahead, at the far end, Tivar knelt at the feet of Varyn and Heraya, brown robes draped over her shoulders.
"I was wondering how long it would be before you came." Tivar didn't stand or turn as she spoke. She simply stayed where she was, her gaze fixed on the stone-carved faces of The Father and The Mother. "I already told Lyina and the others, I will not fight in any more of Fane's wars."
"Your brothers and sisters need you at their side." Eltoar stopped a few feet behind Tivar, his heart twisting as he looked down at his old friend. "I need you. The Urak armies are amassing in numbers we haven't seen since—"
"Since the night we slaughtered our own kind?" Tivar's voice was cold and still as she cut Eltoar short. She rose to her feet, slowly, letting out a deep sigh. "Since the night we betrayed those who trusted us most? Our brothers, our sisters." The light of the oil lamps cast dancing shadows across Tivar's face as she turned, her brown eyes gleaming. Her dark hair was pinned back behind her tapered ears, the scar that cleft her lip reaching up just beneath her nostril. "And what for, Eltoar?"
"Tivar, you know—"
"What for?" the woman roared, her voice rolling like thunder through the chamber, her fists shaking at her side. "With every passing day, my reasons make less and less sense. To break the cycle of corruption, only to replace it with another? In the name of a god who now pits us against the Uraks like playthings on a board. So I need you to answer me, Eltoar. Why did we murder those whose side we should have been standing on?"
"Tivar, I…" Eltoar had asked himself the same question every day since The Fall, and much like Tivar, the answers he had given himself grew less and less convincing.
"That 'vessel' that hangs around your neck." Tivar took a step closer to Eltoar, her gaze fixing on where the gemstone hung behind Eltoar's shirt. She gave a twisted smile, shaking her head. "He manipulates us, Eltoar. Can you not see it? Can you not feel how that stone twists and turns you? How it seeps into your mind. The Order had lost its way." Tivar clapped her hands down on Eltoar's shoulders, staring deep into his eyes. "We had forgotten our purpose. We waged wars at the behest of kings and queens, and yet we stood aside when we should have held our ground. Our hubris told us we were better than those we swore to protect. Gold, fame, and bloodlust consumed us. But there were other ways. We should have tried harder, brother… we should have tried harder."
Eltoar pulled Tivar close, wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her tight, pulling her head to his chest.
Tivar's shoulders shook as she sobbed. "Nothing changed." She pulled herself away a bit, looking up at Eltoar. "You say it's different now. That's what you've said for centuries. But it's not. Fane wants us to fight. He wants us to wage war in his name, just like they did."
"It's not like that, Tivar."
"How is it not? Is that not why you have come here? To ask me to spill blood in his name?"
"There are still people who need us, Tivar. No matter what we've done in the past, we can't hide now. If we do not intervene then thousands will be lost, tens of thousands. The Uraks will not stop. You know this."
Tivar held Eltoar's gaze, tilting her head sideways, her eyes red and narrowed, the warm glow of the oil lanterns illuminating her face. She drew in a deep breath through her nostrils, quelling her sobs. "You once called those creatures allies. Asked us to trust them." She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Then they massacred the eggs… all three hatcheries at Ilnaen, destroyed, top to bottom. Hundreds of hatchlings slaughtered before they could even draw breath."
Eltoar's heart clenched, knots twisting through his gut. A shiver rippled in his mind, spilling over from Helios, a bottomless agony consuming the dragon at the memory of the broken eggs.
"Do you know why, brother? Do you know why not a single egg has hatched since that night? Because the gods punish us. They are disgusted by what we did. By what we became. We were blinded. We followed a god of death and blood and called him The Saviour. And now the other gods punish us for our transgressions." Tivar turned her gaze to the enormous statues of Heraya and Varyn that stood before them. "At least the Uraks have no choice. They are bound to him. Their 'Lifebringer'. Without the Essence, they will wither and die. But we had a choice. We let Fane and those gemstones twist our minds. This darkness is on our shoulders. Our soulkin trusted us. And we let them die."
Eltoar opened his mouth to speak but his words caught in his throat. "There is a new Draleid, Tivar. A new hatchling."
Tivar's eyes widened, her gaze searching Eltoar's for any hint of a lie. She took a step back. "That cannot be… it cannot…"
"It is." Eltoar took a step closer, nodding. "The first hatchling in four centuries."
"Lyina never said… She didn't tell me."
"Because I asked her not to. I wanted to be the one to tell you."
"Have you seen them?" For the first time in centuries, Eltoar saw true happiness in Tivar's eyes. "What are they like? What colour are their scales?"
"I haven't seen him. Not yet. But his scales are white, as pure as the snow on the peak of this mountain."
"Him…" Tivar whispered. A warm smile touched her lips, tears still tumbling over her cheeks. "Bring me to him. I want to see him and meet his Draleid." Tivar took a step closer, her hands touching Eltoar's forearms, her eyes narrowing. "Eltoar…" Tivar searched Eltoar's eyes. "What are you not telling me?"
"It was Aeson Virandr who brought the egg to this continent. The Draleid flies in opposition to the empire."
"No." Tivar pushed Eltoar away, stepping backwards, all happiness evaporating. She glared at Eltoar, fury burning in her eyes. "I have fed the earth with too much blood. I will not put another one of us in the ground — not for him!"
"Tivar, please. I don't want to harm the Draleid. I only want to speak to him. I wouldn't—"
"Get out!" Tivar pushed Eltoar backwards again. "I am done, Eltoar!" Her chest trembled, tears streaming down her face, her eyes raw and red. "Anara Ilum. You remember her name?"
"I…" Eltoar stuttered, digging through his mind. "She was an apprentice, was she not?"
"She had seen no more than twenty summers when Avandeer and I chased her and Numirí here to Dracaldryr. It was eight years after Ilnaen. They had stayed hidden that entire time. When I found them, they took to the skies and fled, and I followed them. I hadn't wanted to kill her. I only wanted to talk, to tell her that there was still a home for her. But as we soared through the valleys of Dracaldryr, that vessel around my neck throbbed. It was near empty. It craved Essence. We caught them in the skies, and Avandeer broke Numirí's neck."
"Tivar… I…"
"Anara survived the fall. She used threads of Air to soften her landing. But the breaking of her bond to Numirí shattered her. She begged me to kill her, Eltoar. She screamed, and she screamed. I could hear the pain in her voice. Feel it. I did that to her. I took her soulkin from her." Tivar shook her head side to side. "After Ilnaen, many of us died on both sides. But something about the loss in Anara's eyes broke me… It broke me, Eltoar." While she was talking, Tivar folded her arms across her chest, her hands clasping her elbows. She stared past Eltoar towards something unseen, her head twitching. After a moment, she lifted her gaze and met Eltoar's. "I will not put another of our kind in the ground. I will not tear another soul in half. Not on the word of that monster you call a friend. That demon you brand an emperor." Tivar's voice rose, veins bulging in her neck. "I will not!"
Eltoar reached his hand out. "Tiva—"
"I will not!"