Chapter 1: Alia

Talk of a dragon had spread throughout western Erythr like a disease until it at last reached the ears of a young half-blood named Alia. That is not to assume that dragons were uncommon in Erythr; in fact, one could find them almost anywhere if he knew where to look. But this dragon was different, or so the rumors told. He was cruel and cunning and the constant stream of stories concerning his destruction became more and more ludicrous with each telling. The most eccentric rumors Alia had heard of late were that this dragon was one of the great fire dragons of old legends, and that he had recently obliterated the monumental capital city of the Alliance, Manchesteve.

Alia, however, was not looking for stories and rumors. She wanted facts, and this unquenchable curiosity was what led her out of her small home on the outskirts to the sleepy streets of Larime Kalvo in the early morning. It was not a long trip. She lived less than a mile away from the small lakeside town – hardly enough to be thought of as living completely independent. But for the fifteen-year-old misfit, it was enough. She took pride in the small living she made for herself, although it was difficult to do so and she occasionally went without life’s small needs. She felt it was well worth it, for her life had been much more pleasant since she left the stifling prejudice of the town to live alone.

Of course, such things had a price. The one that was foremost on Alia’s mind at the moment was the slow rate at which news reached her. This was primarily due to the fact that she had no visitors, nor reason to go to Larime Kalvo often. In fact, she deliberately avoided going if she could. But today was an exception, and she would endure whatever treatment she was given with dignity in exchange for the news she would shortly receive.

A sharp autumn breeze blew across the well-worn path that led into the town, and the salty smell of the lake drifted through the air. The rutted streets were rather empty at such an early hour, but there were a few people who quietly went about their business in the town. Upon seeing Alia, most of them became suddenly nervous and hurried to get out of her way, or refused to look at her and kept their eyes downcast. Alia kept walking and pretended not to notice. But she knew that they looked away because of her obviously abnormal physical appearance. Her keen and icy blue eyes, pointed ears, height, and lithe flowing movements betrayed that she was part elf. On the other hand, the freckles sprinkled across her face and the occasional clumsy motion betrayed that she was human as well.

This obvious difference was the other reason Alia had left the town to live her own life beyond its borders. The townsfolk always acted differently toward her. Even after the fifteen years she had lived among them she was still considered an unusual, if not unwanted, sort of novelty. Of course, she couldn’t entirely blame them; the fact was that she truly was different. She was a half-blood, claiming kinship to not one single race, but two. The dishonor and resentment that accompanied this fact was implied in the scornful and pitying faces of everyone around her.

Her mother had been an elf, and her father a human. Against their parents’ wishes they fell in love and were married. Interracial marriage – especially between humans and elves or dwarfs – was considered highly unethical and shameful, and it often proved to result in immediate ostracism. Alia’s parents had been no exception. They were dismissed from their families and by chance came to Larime Kalvo.

In the early winter, just months after Alia was born, her parents set out to study the wildlife in the rocky Pakoran hills. They were killed in a sudden avalanche, leaving Alia in the care of the townsfolk. But no one seemed to want her, and so she was passed from one family to the next, never staying in one place for more than three years. This was not a total disadvantage, for everyone she had stayed with had taught her something useful. She now knew much about almost anything, from archery to the bits of information she gleaned about her elfin heritage.

Alia continued to walk through the town, smiling and nodding courteously at anyone who would meet her gaze. All of this was part of the constant battle she fought to ensure that the humans had no reason to believe she was even remotely dangerous. They feared and resented the unfamiliar, and the half-blood’s angled features and other elfin characteristics portrayed something completely alien and even perilous to them. Stories of elfin magic were infamous enough that on more than one occasion Alia had been subtly accused of causing the various problems in Larime Kalvo.

She turned onto a side street and made her way toward an uncomely building with a wooden sign hanging on an extended post over the door. Small words beneath a picture of a white moon read ‘The Moonlit Sky Inn’. Alia was one of the few people who could read the letters, but everyone for leagues around knew exactly what the building was.

She pushed the worn door open and it swung inward on well-greased hinges. The light from a burning hearth in the corner cast a welcome light about the place, and also served to distract from the shabby appearance of the inn. Marvile, the innkeeper, was busily sweeping the dusty wood floors and looked up in surprise when Alia entered. “Hello, Alia! I haven’t seen you in a long while. Are you well?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. “I heard there were some fur traders who came in yesterday morning, and I want to hear their news. They’re here, aren’t they?”

Marvile indicated a table in a darkened corner of the room where four men sat, regarding her with curiosity. They had obviously overheard the conversation, and one beckoned for her to approach them. She calmly advanced and sat down on a chair a fair distance away from their table. “What’s your name, half-blood?” the same trader asked.

“Alia Lakay, sir.”

“I am called Roric,” he said. His face suddenly darkened. “And you want to hear news?”

Alia was discomforted but the trader’s troubled look, but her curiosity overcame her apprehension and she persisted. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble…”

“Trouble?” Roric said. “Of course not.”

Reassured, Alia said, “Thank you. I’ve heard rumors about a dragon. I just wondered if you knew anything of it. Which parts are true, and which are just stories?”

He was silent for a moment, and a shadow again crossed his face. “I can only tell you what I know and think. After that, it’s up to you to sort out the truth for yourself.”

“Fair enough,” Alia agreed and settled back to listen to the trader’s account.

“The four of us were trapping in the great forest about a month ago. We saw this big cloud of smoke above the treetops, so me and old Bartlow here went to look into it.” He motioned to a somber and dispirited-looking man sitting directly across from him.

“Completely against my wishes, I can assure you,” Bartlow, said.

“Yes,” Roric said gently, but impatiently. “Anyway, we walked through the forest for a bit more than a league – maybe two. The smell of smoke was very heavy. Then we came to a large clearing with a little stream running through it.” His shoulders drooped, and he continued in a subdued voice. “There had been a city, also. Perhaps only hours before we arrived, there had been a city. But it was gone. Completely ruined. Scraps and pieces of buildings were scattered everywhere, most of them charred by the same fires that were spreading from tree to tree, and to what few buildings were still standing. It was no wildfire, I can promise you. Even the flames of wildfires are not so hard to snuff as these were. The people were trying desperately to put them out, but their efforts only seemed to make things worse. It is said in old legends that a dragon’s fires cannot be easily extinguished.”

Alia completely understood what his last statement implied, and although she had been expecting it, the truth of the existence of this terrible dragon came as a sharp blow. Even so, she was intrigued by this new development, and could not help but ask, “And the people? The people who lived in the city?”

Roric closed his eyes and shook his head, but remained silent. Bartlow took up the account. “Dead. Hundreds of them, lying on the ground dead while their family and friends wept over them, crying out in vain for them to return to life. Many others were seriously injured; battered from falling pieces of buildings or severely burned and blistered. Not just the adults, but kids too. Little children only as high as your waist had not escaped death or injury, and more distressingly, they had not been spared the grief and heartache that follows such a disturbing incident. Those that still had life lay slumped over alongside each other, exhausted by their desperate struggle for survival. They seemed to be looking for relief in the others’ companionship.”

Alia felt as if a cold hand wrenched at her heart. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, but the conviction and unfeigned sorrow with which Bartlow spoke left no doubt that the story was true. She could think of nothing to say except, “That’s horrible.”

“You cannot even begin to imagine,” Bartlow hissed rather sharply. “What right do you have to speak of what you don’t understand?”

Alia was rather taken aback by his sudden anger, and did not know how to respond except with a look of surprise and indignation. The soft rustle of Marvile’s broom against the worn floor stopped as he looked up in surprise and concern. “Hush, Bartlow,” Roric said, equally appalled by his friend’s outburst. “It was only a simple remark. It meant nothing.”

“Exactly!” Bartlow replied, becoming more frustrated. “It meant nothing! All of this means nothing to her because she cannot even imagine something so terrible. Her lack of proper respect defiles the memories of those who were killed by The Dragon.”

The Dragon. The name struck a hollow chord in her mind, and a small shudder of fear ran through her body as Bartlow rambled on. She paid him no attention, but pondered on the meaning of this title. It held power and authority, and knowing who and what it was associated with was enough to make anyone connect the name directly with terror and destruction. After a short time, she took Bartlow’s glaring silence to be a sign that his anger had subsided sufficiently, and she quietly reflected, “So there really is a dragon.”

“Of course there is,” Bartlow snapped. Alia ignored his hot glower, suspecting that his hostility, at least in part, was channeled through the same prejudice that had been directed at her for much of her life.

The gloomy silence his companion had instigated seemed to unsettle Roric, and he suddenly said, “Tragic event. Horrible. We asked what had happened and learned that a dragon – The Dragon, as he is called – struck the town at daybreak, destroying everything without reason. It took him less than an hour to leave the city in ruins.”

Alia shook her head sadly. To no one in particular, she asked, “Why?” Her question was left unanswered, for no one could even begin to explain the reasons behind The Dragon’s actions.

Marvile had by this time given up sweeping the dust ridden floors of his inn and turned an attentive ear to the conversation. Pretending to be disinterested, he asked, “Where did he come from?”

“I haven’t the slightest notion,” Roric replied. “Up until now, it was believed that all the great fire dragons of old legends were killed long before the Great War. But we were mistaken.”

A brief but dread silence followed before Bartlow spoke. “Who could have guessed? For so long, we have put our trust in the dragons, giving them status equal to our own. Thus far we have mutually benefited each other, but no longer. Now we find ourselves pitted against a foe so terrible that fear, if nothing else, will overcome those fool enough to try and stop him.”

Alia refused to accept Bartlow’s pessimist opinion that all dragons were cruel and wicked, but she didn’t say anything about this. She asked instead, “Is there anyone trying to stop him?”

Roric shrugged. “Some say a group of elves and dwarves have been tracking him for several months now, but how many and who they are – if they truly exist – none can say for certain.”

“Rubbish!” Bartlow growled. “They don’t exist, except in the minds of those who would chase dreams and false hopes rather than face the truth. But even if they were real, they would never be able to stop him.”

“Why not?” Alia asked. “Why couldn’t they stop him? He’s only one dragon.”

“Have you not been listening?” Bartlow said mockingly. “He intends to take Western Erythr – to rule it. He may be just one dragon, but he has an entire army ready to defend him to the death, if need be.

“And keep in mind that it’s elves and dwarves who are rumored to be trying to stop him. Do you put so much trust in them? They would fail, just as they have in the past. We could not expect them to end The Dragon’s destruction. They would betray all our hopes just as before.”

The anger and contempt in his voice caused Alia’s face to grow hot with anger. “At least they are doing something about The Dragon. Meanwhile, the rest of us just stand here and hope he doesn’t fall upon us. At least they try! Even if their efforts fail, at least they are doing something.”

“So you do believe in them?” Bartlow gave her a strange smile. Then in a lowered voice, he said, “I think you would do well, half-blood, to hold your tongue in the presence of your betters.”

Alia clenched her fist and started to say something about being equal to them and everyone else, but never had the chance to say anything. Hearing the trouble, Marvile hurried to where they sat and began ordering silence and peace. Alia stood up, too upset to listen, and stormed out of the inn. She knew she was acting childishly by allowing her injured pride to get the best of her, but she was beyond caring. I’m just as important as any of them! I won’t allow them or anyone else to establish superiority over me where there is none! As she made her way home, she did not try to conceal her frustration, nor disregard how people discriminated against her. She cried out to the people in silent, lonely disbelief. I’m just like you. Why can’t you see it?