Evalon has read about dragons her whole life. Everyone has. But when Evalon finds herself in the very village where they train and fly these dragons, her life is turned upside down and backwards before she can say, "Fire!"
The first thing to register in Evalon's mind was a drowning sense of confusion. Surely this place could not be Mydalr? Surely Elduin must have made some mistake? The land before her was a small little valley set between a circle of mountains taller than Evalon had ever seen, covered with faemoss and pine trees. Towards the valley, however, the landscape changed from mountain to something closer to swamp and bogland. Everything was one shade of brown or another, and a small creak wound its way through the marshy hills, with a few odd bog flowers sprouting here and there. There was a small village in the center of the valley. At least, Evalon assumed it was a village; she could make out the light of a few lit windows in the distance.
A cold wind blew across the valley and blasted Evalon full in the face, blowing her hair out behind her.
This was Mydalr? This little swamp valley covered in heather and bracken couldn't be the place Evalon had been dreaming about since before she could remember, could it? No, she thought. There must be some kind of mistake. This can't be it.
She searched the valley, looking for some sign that would prove that this was all just a big joke and that this little marshland was not the land of her dreams. It took her a few moments, but eventually she found it.
"Where's the school?" she asked. With the setting sun casting a shadow upon the small village it was hard to see anything, but Evalon was sure that there was no obvious school for taming dragons or otherwise.
"Oh, it's further up the mountain," Elduin said, pointing a finger at the mountain covered in shadows. "It's hidden pretty well. It is where Eslait's best dragons are trained, after all; we must protect it at all costs."
"Little has changed," Hyron noted. "Except for that watchtower; that wasn't there before."
Elduin nodded. "We've been having... troubles as of late, but, of course, you already know that, Mr. Rolla."
"So, this really is Mydalr?" Evalon tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but she could hear it ring in her own ears. She felt too morose to even pay an interest in what the two men had been saying.
"It may not look like much," Elduin admitted, "but this damp pile of mud packs quite a few surprises."
A loud, sudden roar with a familiar rooster-like trill filled the air. It seemed to be coming from the mountain directly ahead of them. But there was something strange about the cry. Evalon knew it was coming from a dragon, but there was something... different about it, something she couldn't quite place her finger on.
"What was that?" Aunt Mylane asked, her voice tinted with fear.
"That is our cue to get going," Hyron said quickly. "I should probably get to work straight away."
"But we just got here," Mylane said. "Can't it wait for the morning?"
Hyron stared at his wife and an understanding that Evalon didn't comprehend passed between them.
"I'll lead you to your house, if you'd like," Elduin offered. "You'll find it just as you left it."
"You've left the house alone?" Hyron asked in surprise. "Why?"
Elduin shrugged. "It was never needed." And with that he once again led the way to the village of Mydalr.
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