Armana's Gift

ZEVAN

     Roughly seven hundred years as a slave and still the backbreaking work of the field was murderous. Still the dry heat of Krilos, the island continent of shapeshifters, parched him and damaged his blue-gray peregrine falcon wings to brittleness. He shield his gold eyes from the harsh sun and watched dragons fly over head.

     He stopped for a moment, looking around at others as they continued to toil. Aviums of nearly every color and shape, enslaved to the Dragon Clan of Krilos. The only types of Avium that were missing were the white wings of the Royal females and the black wings of their warriors.

     Zevan felt the crack of whip. Stinging and excruciating pain lanced through his back and he nearly staggered from the force of it. He stumbled several steps, gasping for breath.

     "Get back to work slave!" The task master roared. Once, a long time ago, Zevan would have bothered learning their names. After a couple of centuries, it no longer mattered to him. He was scarred, hardened by these men, these dragon shapeshifters that thought themselves so much better then others, and so he deemed it not worthy of his energy to learn their names anymore.

     He kept pulling crops from the field and throwing them in his basket, sick with an anger he hadn't felt in years. He'd long gotten over his fate, the silver collar around his neck making absolute sure that he would never think to try and escape or truly fight back. He had once, so long ago, tried to escape and rescue his people from this fate. He had the scars to prove it. He was lucky he still had his wings.

     He worked for hours, his mind wandering back to days of his past he had tried to forget and never could.

     He had a loving, doting mother and a strong father who had won her heart for himself. He got his looks from his father, his dark gray hair and peregrine wings. But his eyes, they were his mother's. He looked into a mirror every night and saw both of them.

     Before the day was over, the task master called his name.

     "Zevan, come here! Your Master requires you!"

     Zevan held back the grimace. His Master, the ruler of the Dragon Clan, an uptight warmonger with a superiority complex. He was a bit of a paradox as well, taking a familiarity with his slaves that other dragons didn't. He then used that familiarity as a knife to gut his slaves. He was in their busienss and their lives, giving and taking any refuge or peace they would ever have under his service.

     Zevan let the task master lead him as other Aviums and and enslaved members of the Bat Clan watched. The silver collars on a Krilosi shapeshifter stopped them from changing forms and he watched the agony of it kill more of the Bat Clan then he'd ever thought. The entire Bat Clan was enslaved to the Dragon Clan and even Zevan felt for the poor people.

     The dragons had one thing in common with the Aviums, their mountain built homes. Different style and the dragons needed much more space but all the same, at least they were mountains.

     He squared his shoulders when they got to his Master's office, the office of Lornak, ruler of the Dragon Clan.

     "Master Lornak, I have who you requested."

     "Send him in!" The deep and nearly illegible voice was gravely and filled with a growling humor that made Zevan bristle in near terror at what might have caused it.

     Zevan stepped in was immediately grabbed by the near laughing man behind the desk. Lornak was a great man under any circumstances but Zevan's. He was cunning, intelligent and ruthless, attractive and had earned himself a beautiful wife. A dark red hair, the light gold eyes of the Dragons, he had red scales that ran