A Time For Dragons

Prologue -- Vhaeryn

Darkness crept into the throne room like never before as the sounds of fighting grew ever nearer, it was like not even the moon wanted to see what was to come. Vhaeryn clenched his jaw as the great black dragon curled around him protectively. Having only returned three days before there were nicks in the thick dragon hide. Reports had his father riding Rexxas when he died. The boy swallowed as the door lurched and his gauntleted hand tightened around his sword.

He'd been King for all of three days. Six months ago, his father was hastily crowned in the same hall he was about to lose his life in. It wasn't an easy choice but one that had to be made. Iraerya had to survive. If he could do one thing it would be to distract the usurpers forces long enough for her to make it to the boat waiting at the cliffs.

The door lurched again and Rexxas let out a mournful guttural cry like it knew what was to come. Vhaeryn pressed his forehead to the dragon's flank. After whispering a prayer to whatever god listened, he moved from Rexxas.

"Now, old friend. Let us become the nightmare they've so long accused us of being." He pulled down the visor of his gleaming black dragon helm as the massive dragon slithered its tail behind him.

Splinters flew through the air as the door finally gave way and a steady stream of soldiers rushed in. Rexxas drew a breath, its fire illuminating the room in an eerie glow before it let loose a torrent of those deadly flames, cooking men in their armor. Screams filled the throne room as the dragon fought along side its rider. Vhaeryn hadn't expected to last very long, but the smoldering bodies of the dead continued to pile up as the battle wore on. He twirled and parried just as his father taught him, but he was no longer a boy with a wooden sword in the gardens. No, now he was a man with a sword and one mission: proving a deadly enough distraction that his little sister got to safety. The name Caeraxan might die, but the old blood of Vaeln would live on.

The remains of the burned men blew away in a stiff wind but still the invading army poured through the black pit that remained of the door to the throne room. Between breaths stragglers made it in and Vhaeryn made quick work of them. However, the battle was a numbers game, and no one save Rexxas stood on with him. As the fight wore on Vhaeryn slowed and eventually the men who made it through between breaths were too much for him. Men climbed on Rexxas, attempting to stab through the dragon's hide, bending, blunting or outright breaking their swords in the process. Dragon hide was impenetrable, but all creatures have their weaknesses.

Pain sharp and stabbing lanced through Vhaeryn's eye before Rexxas cried, no arrow or sword proved the source of his pain—it was his bond. A sword stuck out of the great dragon's bright blue eye. Vhaeryn staggered and was knocked off balance. Another blow from some random knight caught him in one of the gaps of his armor, a mortal wound. Rexxas cried out again. More men poured in, hacking away at the dragon as Rexxas continued to spew fire. It batted the men off Vhaeryn and curled its tail around him, blocking men from reaching him as it continued to burn the usurpers forces.

Blood loss left Vhaeryn weak, he could feel his life draining away as he stared up at the ceiling of the great throne room and the great black dragon mosaic which adorned it, set in place by his ancestors so long ago.

Here lies Vhaeryn Caeraxan Third of his name, the unburnt, rider of Rexxas the immortal, and the final Vaelian King.

Blood pooled under him as Rexxas, still sheltering Vhaeryn in the crook of his tail went limp after a mournful cry.

Goodbye, oldest friend, you served so very well.

Tears obscured Vhaeryn's vision as the throne room grew still and quiet. Someone shouted but he couldn't hear what was said. The last thing he saw before the world went black was the massive wall of Rexxas's purple-black tail being pulled away revealing the crowd of soldiers around him. Ash floated on the wind, it looked so pretty twisting and twirling with embers before the great black dragon. He took it as a sign, he did his duty. Embers still flickered, Iraerya escaped.

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