Douglas Niles - The Dragons

3357 PC

Aurican’s chest swelled with warm power, a fulfilling goodness unique in the gold dragon’s experience. He felt an impulse to breathe out, to spew an explosion of gas that would unleash this invigorating, barely contained power of magic within him.

Instead, he clenched his jaws and felt the pressure rise, a glow of sublime might swelling him, bearing his golden body through midnight skies. His wings carried him higher and higher, parting the cool, dark air, gleaming with shining brightness under the night skies. At first, he passed through wispy clouds, an ethereal atmosphere that masked the vast plain of Vingaard below and obscured the soft starlight glowing above. But still the golden wings drove downward, and Aurican rose, splitting the mists, shimmering like a metallic ghost in the formless space. The cool, moist air felt good against his wings and his scales, and droplets of water glowed like gems against the metallic sheen of his body.

And then the clouds were a soft blanket below him, rolling crests and swells, shadowy kettles and swales that seemed deceptively solid under the muted light from above. Still the pressure expanded within him, and though the force was great, the feeling was not unpleasant.

Looking upward, Aurican beheld the three moons in close alignment, rising in the east, preceding the arrival of dawn by many hours. First came crimson Lunitari, then the dark shadow of Nuitari, and finally the brightness of Solinari. The loss of the three magical shards that now seethed within Aurican had left no visible scars, at least none that the gold dragon could see, yet he keenly sensed their influence within him as the magic surged.

Faster flew Aurican, soaring through the skies like an arrow launched from a monstrous bow. The distant ridge of the High Kharolis came into view as the plains passed away beneath him, as a flight that would normally take him three days was accomplished in the space of a single night. On wings of the gods he glided, serene and aloof, grieving but triumphant.

With a keen sense of destiny, he dived toward the secret entrance to the Valley of Paladine. He wasted no time coming to rest on the ground, instead flying with deliberate speed through the long entry tunnel, then racing over the still and silent waters of the subterranean lake. Like a golden arrow, he shot through the secret cavern, gliding toward the sacred grotto and its precious trove.

Only when he reached the rim of rock beyond that sheltered cavern did he come to rest, and even then he paused only long enough to fold his massive wings against his flanks. He crept into the winding passage, smelling the familiar warmth of the grotto. Drawing that presence through his nostrils and into his deep chest, he was overwhelmed with thoughts of Darlantan, and of Smelt, Burll, and Blayze. He knew that he carried the legacy of them all.

Approaching the nest, he lifted his head, conscious of the metallic females gathered along the cavern walls, watching him with bright, golden eyes. Gold and silver, brass, bronze, and copper dragons, all studied their patriarch as he rose above the precious clutch of eggs. Shifting restlessly, wings fluttering in barely contained agitation, the females rose and crept closer, surrounding Aurican and the nest in a ring of metallic scales and intensely staring eyes.

Kenta curled protectively around one side of the nest, and Oro framed her silver sister on the other side. Aurican nodded at each of them, then turned his attention to the precious orbs protected within the sheltered confines. Carefully curling his tail behind him, he sat with precise dignity. Only then did he arc his long neck and lift his head to stare at the clutch of metallic spheres, his heart swelling with a sense of profound wonder.

The pressure within him grew stronger, and Aurican clearly understood what would happen next, yet this understanding did nothing to cool his wonder. The golden jaws spread wide, and Aurican breathed softly, sharing the essence of magic, the power that was a part of every dragon’s being but that, in Aurican, had been expanded and amplified by the effect of the shards of the three moons of magic.

A glowing mist floated forth, coalescing in the air, seething and roiling with colors that varied from black to silver to red. The gases swirled more rapidly, spiraling about the nest, slowly settling downward, touching the surfaces of the eggs, stroking the metal shells with ethereal fingers. The vapor sparkled with a glimmering wetness, slowly vanishing, as if absorbed by the pulsing, living treasures.

For a long time, the glow remained, shifting from one egg to another, sometimes bright and focused, other times diffused, but always possessing a vibrant and inherent brilliance that would have shamed any light born of flame or sun. The brightness danced and swayed, cavorting back and forth like a living thing, and when the brilliance faded, it left a lingering aura within the eggs that was perfectly clear to Aurican and the female dragons. The tiny serpents sheltered within those eggs had been blessed by the essence of magic. The enchantment contained in the bodies of the three gods was bestowed upon the young dragons in the breath of their golden patriarch. It settled on the eggs, infusing the shells and the wyrmlings, enchanting them with a power that had been absent for millennia.

Time, in seasons and then in years, passed while Aurican and the females waited with the serene patience of their kind. Watching and expectant, the great serpents held their attention upon the nest. Beyond the grotto, winters and springs and summers cycled through the High Kharolis in succession, a pattern mounting into the dozens, then the scores.

Still the eggs glowed, and gradually the brightness increased until the entire grotto was illuminated as under a noonday sun. Very slowly and gradually, several of the eggs began to pulse and shimmer. A silver surface throbbed, and a golden membrane shimmered under the internal pressure of a sharp beak.

Ultimately the two eggs ruptured, tiny metal newtlings crawling forth. Shaking away the muck of the eggs, clawing each other roughly aside, the dragons struggled toward the edge of the nest. Another egg, a brass, twitched and thrashed, and then several copper spheres began to show signs of movement.

And then they were coming from everywhere. Enchanted by the breath of Aurican, surrounded by the aura of magic, the next generation of metal dragons poked and pushed their way into the world.

Circa 3000 PC

The cavern of fire lay deep in the heart of the mountain, beneath an active volcano, with plunging roots descending into a tangled network of seething lava, searing gases, and barren, scorched rock. A vast lake of fire bubbled and surged here, waves of liquid lava rumbling and tossing in the grip of an eternal gale, propelled by the regular convulsions of heaving bedrock. From many places across the expanse of molten rock, black pillars of stone rose to merge with a lofty ceiling. Sheer rock walls, melted smooth by eons of infernal heat, surrounded the expanse, broken only by an occasional ledge or outcrop.

A layer of soot darkened the vast ceiling. Many crevasses and gaps pocked that irregular face of cracked stone, giving vent to the buildup of heat and pressure. Far above, invisible from the huge subterranean chamber, geysers of gas, flame, and ash scarred the landscape in the rugged heart of the Khalkists.

Yet those external signs had no significance to the great crimson being who coiled, torpid, deep within the hellish cavern. Here Crematia had come to recoup, to heal and to hide in complete safety. She knew that not even Aurican could follow her into this searing environment, and any lesser flesh, such as cloaked man or elf or ogre, would blister away within moments of arrival.