The Heir of Kings

Chapter Eleven: A History of Dragons

Flying was amazing. It was so impressive that Relma forgot how dangerous everything had been moments before. The wind whipped through her hair, the sight of the land far below them. It was beyond anything she had felt.

Of course, the land soon became hard to make out with the dying light. A blur of dark shapes far below. But she liked the feeling of being so high. Estela and Ronald did not share her glee. Both were clinging to Wrynncurth's spines, their cloaks flowing behind them. Neither looked happy. And they certainly weren't looking down.

Relma sighed. She had far less heavy clothes than them and wasn't complaining.

Eventually, the thrill wore off, and Relma began to think about things. Questions occurred to her, and she realized she might never get a chance to answer them. She may have waited for the end of the trip. "Wrynncurth, can I ask you something?"

"You may ask," said Wrynncurth.

"Um... aren't you small for a dragon?" said Relma. She felt like she was asking something sensitive. She could have phrased it better.

"No," said Wrynncurth, tone cheerful as always. "Though once I would have been for my kind."

"What do you mean?" asked Relma. He sounded cheerful, but that didn't mean anything. He always stated cheerfully. But was he?

"Before Smyngoth began his eternal sleep, there were three dragon flights," said Wrynncurth. "The red. The silver. And the golden."

"What about the black flight?" asked Relma. She had the feeling she had just asked a stupid question.

"I was just getting to that, my girl," said Wrynncurth. "Now you see, the dragons had a tradition that every few hundred years, they changed kings. This was to ensure that things did not wholly stagnate."

"We mortals usually just wait for our kings to die," noted Relma. Idiot, Wrynncurth already knew that.

"A fair system," said Wrynncurth. He didn't sound perturbed. But you could never tell. "Unfortunately, it wouldn't work for us. We have the dubious honor of never growing old. Thus, the rotation of kings, as all the flights called it.

"Alchara, the Dreaming Goddess, and Laevian were involved in the lines of succession. Each King had to be approved by both of them. As it turned out, Alchara had plans to unify the flights under one leader. She created a breeding program, intent on gaining the powers of all three dragons. Eventually, she succeeded. She produced a dragon with the bloodlines of all three royal families."

"Royal families?" asked Relma. "I thought you rotated kings." This sounded a little sick.

"Well, yes," said Wrynncurth. "Traditionally, the next King would mate with one of the children of his predecessor. This ensured they had only one core bloodline.

"Anyway, Alchara managed to maneuver her new creature into a position of power. He was made King of both the Gold and the Red flights. However, Smyngoth convinced his fellow silver dragons to defy Alchara. They maintained their independence."

"Wait, you just said that Smyngoth was a black dragon," said Relma.

"He was silver at the time," said Wrynncurth. "At any rate, Alchara can't stand things that aren't under her control. So she started trying to pressure the silvers into yielding control to her. In the process, her creature extended his tenure over red and gold flights. Several times, actually.

"This got some of the reds and golds mad. And Smyngoth made plans with them to overthrow the King of All Dragons, as he named himself."

"How did that work out?" asked Relma.