Story Doodles

War of Dragons

General Vog scratched his claw across the parchment, writing a distress call for aid to his battalion. He paused, his reptilian yellow eyes flicking upwards to the mouth of his tent. There his coterie lay, scattered across the camp, sitting in small groups that ranged from pureblooded down. Here, blood status didn't matter. Here, it was Dragonfolk against man.

The battle field was scorched; it wreaked of charred earth and blistering flesh. The Dragonfolk were losing, the humans driving them back and back, slaughtering hundreds and wounding thousands more. The troops were low on morale and soldiers.

The tired general looked down at his parchment again, his free hand clenching into a fist. Even after all of the youngling boys had been drafted, there was still not enough to win this war. He scratched a final sentence on his epistle, regret tightening his chest:

I send out a decree for the drafting of all youngling girls over the age of fifteen.

~~~

Brynn woke to the sound of her mother sobbing. She tore off her covers, her mouth dry with fear as she hurried down the stairs towards the sounds of distress. As she reached the landing she paused, her mind racing. It had to be news about the war. Could it be about her father? She scratched nervously at her scales, biting her cheek.

"What is it, mother?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. Her mother choked back a sob, her crystal blue eyes looking at her only daughter. Her claws crumpled the edges of the parchment in her hands, and she shook her head, her ears drooping. Brynn crept forward, her tail dragging somberly behind her.

"Please tell me. I can take it." She straightened, her gaze hardening as she held out a hand. Her own hands trembling, her mother placed the battered message in her daughter's claws. Brynn's eyes dropped from her mother's face to read the worn parchment.

The War Council summons all youngling girls over the age of 15 to be drafted to the war. Representatives will come to each of your villages shortly to retrieve all girls from your roost.

Brynn blinked, a tear falling from her glistening golden eyes to smudge the ink. Her mother wrapped her arms around her, holding her so close that Brynn feared she may never let go. She hoped she wouldn't.

"Not my baby..." her mother whimpered, her whole being trembling. "I won't let them take you."

"You don't have a choice," Brynn objected, pulling away from the security of her mother's arms. "If we resist, it's treason." Even as she spoke such strong words, her voice was weak.

"Besides, I'll be able to see father and Bior now," she reasoned, setting the paper on the table. Her father had been drafted near the beginning of the war, when Brynn's horns had barely begun to grow. Had it really been five years? Brynn remembered it like it was yesterday.

"Don't worry, my dear," her father had fussed, kissing his wife's forehead as he grabbed his satchel with shaking claws. "I promise I'll be back, and I can make my special porridge when I am."

Brynn's mother had clung to him, burying her face in his broad chest. His cheery expression fell, and he held her in his arms, kissing the top of her head and murmuring words that Brynn couldn't hear. The wagons had rattled through the village, and the last Brynn saw of her father was as he climbed onto one, raising a hand in farewell.

Even at the young age of ten, Brynn had known her father was not a fighter. He may have been big and broad, but he was a gentle giant. His large hands could paint the most delicate sunsets, and his eyes held the gold of a thousand suns. He couldn't even kill a spider, let alone another sentient being. And yet, with all the odds against him, Brynn and her family had hope that he would return.

Bior, Brynn's older brother, did not have the same outlook on war as their father. He was reckless and naive, and almost as soon as he was able he enlisted to assist the war efforts. He was gone before dawn when the wagons came. For nearly two years, it was only Brynn and her mother, living in the constant fear that their family would be torn apart by the war the humans waged on them.

And perhaps today that day had come.

"I need to ready my things," Brynn said stoically, her lip trembling. "I'm sure the wagons will be here soon." She turned away from her mother, refusing to look her in the eye. She might fall apart if she did.