Legends of the Dragon

I

Shling!
ÒThatÕs it! Keep that tip low, ready for a massive counterattack!Ó
Shling! Shling, shling, clang!
ÒHold it lightly, youÕre holding it too stiff. Remember always, if the grip is not light, then the energy in the sword is not balanced, therefore the sword is not balanced, and it is ungainly, awkward.Ó
The young man facing him suddenly spun his sword, whirling it around and around, and it took all the other manÕs skill to dodge and block the whirling, flashing blade.
ÒEnough! Good, very good!Ó The big man sat down. ÒPhew, youÕre getting much better with that big knife of yours,Ó he panted. The man was old, but not bent. He was huge, a big, burly man. He had a massive, unkempt red beard, and scraggly, long hair the same color of his beard. He was a bit on the portly side, with khaki trousers and a big green undercoat with a lot of pockets. He had on a drab overvest, and a wrinkled leather black belt with an empty broadsword sheath at his side. His face was round, not fat, but definitely not underfed. The broadsword was a massive blade, about three inches wide and a good four feet long, yet he handled it with a skill that was unrivaled skill. He was, after all the finest swordsman in the world, or so his nephew, Mathew, thought.
The two were fencing on top of a grassy knoll, with mountains in the distance. The small hill was covered in yellowish grass, and a stone top that was flat, like a table top. The stone platform was edged by stone pillars. The landscape was rolling, with many hills, and a few farms scattered about, dotting the land side.
The big man, who was only known to Mathew as ÔKnightÕ, stood up and said, ÒMatt, youÕre gonna kill me with that thing one of these days, you hear me?Ó He started laughing uproariously.
Matt looked like a scrawny boy from a distance. However, close up he was tall, and well- built. Not stocky, and not skinny, but somewhere in between. A boy of about thirteen years, he had a plain face, nothing unusual or special about it, except the eyes. They were sometimes blue, sometimes green, depending on his mood, but always with streaks of gray, that widened or narrowed, spontaneously, it seemed. DragonÕs eyes, his mother used to call them. The eyes were crystal blue, and twinkling with mischief, at the moment. His hair was dark blond, and his arms were muscular. He trained with the sword every day. But he was also skilled at the bow, the short ax, the dirk, the scythe, the dagger, even the great battle axe. However, the long sword was his preference.
ÒOh, Uncle Knight, come on! Stop just letting me win! You know that one can never gain honor if he is pampered and coddled like this!Ó
The man known as Uncle Knight suddenly leaped up and whipped his blade in a vicious arc.
ÒOw!Ó Mathew sat down, massaging his wrist. The straightsword he had been holding was gone, somewhere a good few yards a way, having been yanked out of MathewÕs hand by Uncle KnightÕs massive broadsword. He looked after it in amazement, then shook his head. ÒDonÕt do that again, Uncle. That hurt!Ó
Uncle Knight laughed. ÒYou are the one who wanted the honor. How does the honor feel while your on your rear!Ó The big man chuckled.
Mathew looked sheepish. Then he grinned widely and embraced the huge man. ÒNow, Uncle Knight, donÕt do that again!Ó And he laughed out loud.
ÒNow, you two, come on in for dinner!Ó A voice, light, yet firm, called out from the farmhouse. A woman was standing out, watching them from a distance. She had dark, jet- black hair, but a lock of it was pure white, on her left side. She was tall, and very beautiful. She was wearing a blue dress, with a blue cloak that billowed out behind her with the wind. Funny, Mathew thought. I donÕt feel any wind... But then his attention was distracted by the delicious aroma of wonderful, glorious food. He dashed down the hill, and bolted towards the smells animating from the kitchen.
ÒEn! Those smells are beyond description,Ó Uncle Knight roared. The beautiful woman standing before him laughed.
ÒOh, Knight, you are a shameless flatterer. Mathew, get in there and eat that food before this fat pig eats it all and licks the plates clean!Ó she yelled towards the boyÕs retreating back. Here at FaldorÕs farm, Uncle KnightÕs appetite was almost as legendary as his skill with a broad sword. Aunt Enira, the beautiful woman standing in front of the farm, stopped laughing. Her expression turned to one of exaggerated pondering. ÒYou know, Knight, you might want to get down there before he eats all that and licks the pl-Ó she turned around. The big man had seemingly disappeared. She smiled, knowing full well that Uncle Knight was thinking along the exact same lines that she was. She bustled down towards the kitchen- her amazing ability to cook was as, if not more, legendary then Uncle KnightÕs appetite. Although she didnÕt technically do the cooking, she oversaw the kitchens, and made sure the job got done.
Down in the kitchens, it seemed a place of complete turmoil to the causal observer. However, if one looked closer, he would actually find it a beehive of highly trained and proficient activity. Aunt En was at the head, rapping out orders and whipping around the kitchen, the most efficient cook of all. Mathew thought that all the cooks in that room would all have to have nose plugs to stop from fainting from all the exquisite smells that they were creating from beneath their hands.
About an hour later, the massive table was all set, and the food on it looked absolutely delectable. There was a massive turkey as a centerpiece, all golden- brown, and with those little chef hats on the legs. There was other meat galore, too, steak, pork, fowl, bacon, etc. There was all kinds of fruits, grapes, small green apples, lovely red ones, all big and tasty, and cherries, strawberries, and blueberries adorning the table all around, making it very festive. The main dishes were , , and . There was honeyed rolls, golden bread, and all types of buns filled with all you could imagine. And the deserts. Oh, the deserts. There was turnip and potato and beet root pie, lovely pastries, flaky crusts with strawberry, blueberry, cherry, even raspberry jam fillings, and virtually buried in icing. There was ice cream of all flavors, yogurt, all topped with whipped cream, and chocolate syrup over everything, and there were even little sugar statues dotting the table.
Just to name a slight amount...
After all, it was Dragon's Day, the day the seven Dragon Gods created the world.
Following the delicious feast, which involved everybody in the household, It was the celebrating of Dragon's Day. The workers at the farm had overworked themselves almost the the exhaustion point, preparing the farm for the 7 Days of Rejoicing, in which the Dragon Gods created the world. On the days of Rejoicing, absolutely no work was permitted for seven days, and it was feasting, telling stories, sitting round the fire, sleeping, more feasting, plays in which the actors dressed up in marvelous dragon costumes, more story- telling, and in general, having the most fun than any of the workers had in their entire lives.
The first thing the farm- workers did after the feasting was sit down round the fireplace and have The Elder tell stories. The Elder was an old man, not bent with age, but his beard and hair was pure white. He had an air about him of being very, very old, but more wise than any of the farm hands could ever imagine. He had an old, rough, grizzled face, quite aged and weathered, and his eyes were a deep, deep blue, like chips of ice. They were merry, bright, and forever twinkling, as he stole ale from Aunt EnÕs cupboards, teased children with sweets, and generally being loved by all.
The first story told was always the story of The Day in Which All Began, the day that the Dragon- Gods created the world. This was the tradition, and, although all the farm hands had heard it as many times as they were years old and more, they never grew tired of it. It was the story that was most magnificent, and through the ages, it never changed.
The Elder walked slowly towards the rocking chair in front of the fireplace. It was a good chair, made of elm wood and trimmed with oak, that gave it all the strength it needed. The elm wood gave it a springy quality which made it very comfortable, even though there were no cushions. The Elder sat down, and he got comfortable while all the listeners waited, their eyes glistening with expectation. Suddenly he looked up, and, seemingly for the first time, noticed all the people staring at him.
ÒWhat are you looking at?Ó he inquired.
The people in the room answered as one: ÒYOU!Ó
ÒWhat are you looking at me for?Ó the old man asked curiously.
One small child stood up. ÒIf you donÕt get on wiv da stowee, IÕm gonna get my mama to spank you!Ó The child's blunt threat made everybody in the room laugh. ÒYouÕd betta not be laughin' at me, or IÕll get my friend Maffew to chop all yous up in litta pieces!Ó
The childÕs mother stood up, and, her eyes twinkling, whispered something in the small boyÕs ear. She then withdrew, a slight smile on her face. The child sat down and patted the old manÕs knee.
ÒPlease tell the story, Mista Elder.Ó The childÕs solemn statement made all the more laughable from the fact that it had that babyish ring to it made every person in the room laugh so hard, some of the grown- ups were crying with merriment. Even Faldor, who was known for his lack of humor, couldnÕt resist a dry smile, which turned into a grin, which eventually had him laughing right out loud.
When the merriment subsided, the old man began to tell the story.
ÒWhen it all began, there was nothing. It was not light, it was not dark. There was simply... nothing. But there was something there. Seven whispers, conversing to one another. These whisperers called themselves The Spirits. Eventually the Spirits came to a realization, that they were not all the same. They came to an agreement. They would make the world, so they could put a name to these differences. It was Arlmor, the wisest of the seven, who came up with the idea. Then the seven Spirits put all their physical strength, and all their magic into one single effort. None of them thought that one, massively huge effort would make the world, but it did. Nobody knows how they did it, and there is a fair amount of people that think they had some sort of help.
ÒBut nobody actually knows, and so we donÕt worry about it all that much.
ÒNow, the differences came into play. Arlmor created light, so the seven spirits could see their work. Eragor created earth, for a place to start with. Cascamor created water to fill the empty spaces of the earth and to make it beautiful. And when these two elements were combined, green things grew all over the place. The seven Spirits named these things plants. Magnor created fire, so the light could have some place to start from. Toktor created darkness, so there would be something to counteract the light, because all things need balance. Airamore created air and wind, so that there would be movement. Then the world was complete.
ÒBut Metalmor did not have anything to make. He was very sad. Then he had an idea. Metalmor was the cleverest of the Seven. While Arlmor was the wisest, Metalmor was the one who would think up the smart ideas. It was h who actually conceived the idea of the world. He thought up an idea that would make it possible for him to make something and be God of it. He looked at the shape of his brothers. While they all had things that were different, they all had the same basic structure. All had scaly, hard bodies, and had long, tapered tails. All had long wings that were about as long as their body each. The wings were rounded at the ends, but they had thin strips of bone, like batÕs wings. All had the ability to breath fire. And all had blue eyes, flecked with gray. But when the SpiritÕs were angry, the eyes flashed green, signaling their rage.
ÒBut the SpiritÕs were not angry often. And Metalmor joined his brothers to make the Seven Clans of the Dragon. Each were different, and resembled the Spirit of their clan, if not about ten times their miniature.
ÒArlmor was bright, and seemingly glowing. He had also created light, and he called himself Dragon God of Light. He was not the biggest of Spirits, but he was wizened to the point of seeming immortality. His Clan of dragons also glowed, and they had a part of his power, but not all. And it was the same with all the other Dragon Gods. Toktor called himself the God of Dark, and he and his people had a myriad of shifting, subtle darkness across their scaly hides. They were clever tricksters, but not in a bad way. Just enough to counteract the soulful goodness of the Light DragonÕs hearts. They had control over the magic of Shadow. Eragor, the God of Earth was big and brawny- not the most intelligent of the Spirit, but his soul was full of simple joy, and his strength was his physical labor. He did have magic, he just didnÕt use it very often, and the magic of Earth could bend the earthÕs crust to itÕs will. Cascamor was small, but very fast in water, and all his kind had a bluish tint to their skin. They were the Dragons of water, after all. The magic of Water could call upon the element of water, anywhere, any time. Magnor, the God of Fire, was always surrounded by flame. So were his people, and all had the fiery temper of their Dragon God. They had the magic of Fire. AiramoreÕs people were as fast as the wind, and had the magic of wind, the ability to call upon the air, whenever they needed it. Metalmor and his people were harder than rock, but didnÕt really have any special abilities. But then Metalmor knew what to create, what unique element to create- a substance harder than rock like its maker, and, like its maker, was called metal. His people were skilled with metal, and they were about as strong, too. Not big, like EragorÕs people, just muscular.
ÒEach Spirit, or, Dragon Gods as they now were called, created only one hundred of their dragons, so there were seven hundred ordinary dragons, and seven Dragon Gods.
Each Dragon God had a Dragon Temple on the seven points of the earth. The temples were where the Dragon God of that temple ruled. The Dragon Gods never had to move, they could operate with sorcery without ever moving. This is where the Dragons were created.
ÒBut that was not enough life for the Dragon Gods. In a dream, Arlmor saw the shape of humans, and the next day, joined his power with his brothers once more to create Man. Seven Men, with all the power and personality of their maker winked into existence. They called magic sorcery. They had power of all sorcery, and, just as the Seven Spirits joined to create a race of dragons, they created an entire race of Man. However, these First Seven Men, the Eternal Ones, didnÕt limit their races numbers to a mere hundred each. They created a new type of Man, called Women, that could bear children. Now, the race would live on, even though the individuals would die.
ÒEach of the first one hundred men that the Eternal Ones created were of a different race, as the race of dragons were. The Men of Earth were bigger than most, and had the heart of a farmer. The Men of Light were what some would call bleeding souls, going out of their way to be kind. The Men of Dark were small, and thiefs to the core. This was the way of Dark, and it was not harmful, and it was all done in fun. The Men of Metal were not huge, but dominated by muscles and cleverer than even the Men of Dark- with metals and brainpower. The Men of Water were of medium height and were amazing swimmers, and amazingly competitive, too. The Men of Air were just as competitive, however, they were faster then the wind on land, rather than in water. The men of fire were almost impossible to burn, and had fiery tempers. Otherwise they were regular men, physically. And the Men that showed promise went to the Eternal One of his race and underwent training for sorcery. Tests, mainly, and every king that ever was and every king that is and ever will be must be skilled with sorcery before he can claim his throne.
ÒWith the creation of Man came the creation of all sorts of animal, deer, rabbits, fish, birds, whales, alligators, all the animals of the world. But they were not created, they just sprung from the earth as they had always been there, just unobserved.
ÒAnd in the making of Man came the forging of the Elemental Swords,Ó the old man paused, and then spoke in the voice of a regular person- not as a storyteller would. The contrast was amazing.
ÒActually, the word ÔforgingÕ isnÕt actually the correct term. Basically what happened was the day after Man was created, each of the Dragon Gods found a sword in there temple in a shrine that was not there before. No one has ever been able to explain it. Anyway...
ÒEach Dragon God was made their own sword in their temple. In the Temple of Light came a magnificent sword, the pommel stone made of pure light, the handle bound with a black substance that would never fray or break, and always look like the day it was forged. The hilt was of the strongest metal, and was forged in the manner of Dragon Wings, flaring towards the point of the Sword. The blade itself was made of pure light.
ÒAll the handles and hilt were the same. The pommel stone was made of that element in itÕs purest, but the blades were something else. The blade of Dark, like the blade of Light, was made of pure dark. The blade of the Fire Sword was regular metal, albeit metal that would never break, but when removed from its sheath, it would burst into flame. The blade of Water was made of the magic of Water. The blade of Wind was formed of concentrated air, packed into a blade shape. The blade of Earth was made of a surprise substance: wood, not metal. But nothing could ever turn or damage that wooden blade, and it was as sharp as a metal one. The blade of Metal was still different. It was made of a special metal that sparkled and shimmered with magic.
ÒThe black- bound handle that would never get old, and the inability to turn or damage the blade was due to the magic that ran through the Swords, but the Sword of Metal had a double advantage, because not only would the magic not allow the blade to be damaged, but even if it was not saturated with magic, the metal itself would not allow itself to be damaged.Ó
All the listeners- adults and children- moved in closer, their eyes shining as the story continued, spun out of thin air by a master storyteller.
ÒBut the making of Man was the downfall of the Dragon Gods. The deceitful nature of Man turned on the Dragon Gods of the earth, and, in time, banished them from the earth. The Banishing War was horrible. The Dragon Gods fought for their very lives, and eventually fled because they didnÕt want to completely eliminate the life that they created. However, all the Dragon Followers were killed in that horrendous slaughter. The Dragon Gods fled the physical world to inhabit the spirit world where all began.
ÒThe Eternal Ones, who had not taken sides in the massacre of the Banishing War, were angry, and their terrible wrath destroyed many more Men. But in time, they saw that violence was not the way, and they came to Asyndril- the Place Where All Began- and had a conference as to what should happen.
ÒAfter about a century of debating, the Eternal Ones came to a decision.
ÒA century?Ó Brull, always the skeptic, was always asking questions about this sort of thing. Every year the story got to this part, and every year he had to know the same thing.
ÒYes! A century in which all seven neither slept, drank nor ate. You forget that the Eternal Ones are immortal, and that they only eat, sleep and drink for comfort. The Eternal Ones are still around today, and they did not even notice, they were that drawn to the discussion at hand.
Brull looked satisfied, as he had at this particular time every year.
ÒAnyway, the Eternal Ones decided to make a double shrine in the Temples of the Dragons, the shrine of the Sword and the Dragon. The Eternal One of that Temple could combine power with the sword and bring the spirit of the Dragon God that once ruled that Temple. The One could summon the Dragon God in times of trouble or conflict.
ÒAnd this is the way it has been through out the ages, in times of trouble, the Eternal One will call upon his Dragon God, and it will be resolved.
ÒHere ends the story,Ó he concluded.
Mathew was curious about something. ÒIf the Eternal Ones are immortal, then wouldnÕt they still be living?
ÒYes.Ó
ÒAnd they would be extremely old, right?Ó
ÒYou have an amazing grasp of the obvious, young Mathew,Ó he commented, his eyes twinkling.
Mathew blushed a little. ÒAnd wouldnÕt they be so old that they would be very weak? I mean, all old people I know are all bed- ridden or using a cane or always sitting down. And they are only around eighty! The Eternal Ones are thousands of years old!Ó
ÒAh, I was wondering when someone would be asking that question. The Eternal Ones, for something having to do with their gift of sorcery, never really got old. Oh sure, they got beards and the tempers of old men, but none of them really got, oh, archaic, to put a quaint word to it. None of them really needed to use a cane, or bed- except for sleep of course. As to their strength, they havenÕt been as strong as an adolescent like you, but they werenÕt feeble, or helpless. In fact, their small lack of physical strength was more than made up in sorcery,Ó the old man explained.
One old woman, around fifty years old, asked: ÒSo, what exactly is sorcery? I mean, how does it happen? CouldnÕt a sorcerer get out of control and make things disappear when he got slightly annoyed?
ÒI will answer all three questions. So, what is sorcery? Well, itÕs a type of magic-Ó
ÒYou mean there are other kinds?Ó
ÒYes. Sorcery is just the most known. There is divination- reading tea leaves and such; there are seers, who read the heavens; magic- street magic only, very flashy, but only sleight of hand. There is witchcraft- a particularly,Ó he paused, as if searching for words, Òah, untasteful, art- the summoning of creatures from Hell. The ancient majick of the old world has long died out. Majick was simply too powerful. A true magician, a mage, would have been able to stop time, to travel all over the world in an instant, even open up entire worlds unbeknown to us- all this completely spontaniously and at a whim. ThatÕs why majick was eradicated from the universe. Yes, there are many branches of magic.
ÒSorcery is basically doing. Such as, you draw in your will to pick up a rock, and you do it. Sorcery is just not physically touching it with appendages of the body. It is the art of drawing in a little power from that tree, this blade of grass, all blades of grass, the rock, the cow- everything living around you.
ÒSo a rock is living.Ó
ÒIn a manner of speaking. It doesnÕt live, but it is conscious in a strange way.
ÒSo the sorcerer draws in power and then unleashes it- thatÕs all it is. That is how it happens. And no, sorcery isnÕt spontaneous- itÕs very channeled and controlled. ThatÕs all,Ó he concluded.
ÒNow, if you donÕt mind, IÕm feeling a bit tired. Sit near the fire and enjoy yourselves.Ó And the old man slept.

The next morning was the second day of the holiday celebrated around the world- the days the world was created. There was, of course, no work, but the farm was alive with activity. Uncle Knight and Mathew practiced, Aunt Enira cooked in the kitchen, the Elder told stories, even prophecies- those old documents that predicted the future and were seldom wrong, the farm hands helped in the kitchens, and all was good.