A Young boy looked at the destruction around him.
What is going on, he thought. Is this the great service to the dragons that they spoke of? The boy had not anticipated this. The mutilated corpses that had not been devoured by the Earthburrers were strewn all around. Gore covered the ground like a thick blanket, squelching between the boy's bare toes in places. The sky was a cruel shade of grey, and the sun was nowhere to be found. He looked around some more at the mass pile ruins. He looked to his left, where the butchery, the bakery, and the canteen were once standing. Now all that was left were piles of rocks and bodies. To his right; there was the shattered stoneworker's shop, lizard houses, and ramshackle huts. Around the small market place were destroyed houses. Even his own home near the sandbar was a pile of rubble. No one seemed to be spared; he was a child all alone.
He was perhaps 7 or 8 — he had never kept exact track, his mother had done that for him. The small village in the cliff was his home, and it was gone.
Where are the women gossiping around the well? Where are the men hauling and courting and doing all of that manly work that they did? Where are all the other children, running and screaming and giggling? Where are my friends? Where is my family? Now nothing but carnage and a few tattered remains of homes stayed. And the great gaping hole.
Finally reaching the site of his home, he was devastated by the giant Earthburrers he saw, their giant wormy heads disappearing into the ground. This was odd. They normally went after more powerfully magical species. Dragons, mermaids, even the small lizards they preferred. Why now when he was away? Not there to protect his mother and sister. Whom he had sworn to protect. After all, the men had always said he might be special. That he might have the magic. If he'd been here, maybe the Earthburrers would have eaten him and no one else.
Lying in the corner, at the moment unseen by the boy, was a woman who would have been called pretty. She bore a strong resemblance to the boy. She was this boy's mother. Myson, she thought as her life flowed freely out of her chest, her heart stubbornly beating his woman clutched furtively a half eaten carcass; her daughter. She had barely enough strength to stand, moaning like a zombie. At this the boy turned. Come,she whispered, come. Let me give you just one more thing. Her son just gawked. Yellow mist poured from her mouth and eyes and ears, for she was unwilling to die leaving her son helpless.
Let me in…
Draconis rose from his "throne" from which he was napping on. (Although it was more like that of an armchair.) He looked at his lovely onyx walls, the large rather empty chamber he called his sleeping chambers, which consisted of a small comfy bed, a big black armoire, a full length mirror and a chandelier.
He stood up, slightly wobbling on unsteady, stiff legs. His arms hurt and his legs hurt and everywhere ached with a pain. He glanced at his mirror. He was not a sight to look at. Not that he was ever one to look at. Pale, skinny. Dark black hair that was dulled and looked slightly unwashed no matter what he did, if he cared much about appearances. He had brown eyes with no whites at all, and they were heavily lidded and half closed. He was not very tall either. An unimpressive specimen in total. People had an annoying tendency to do one or the other— ignore him, or underestimate him, which he didn't like.
Draconis hated his reflection. Even to be ugly would be wonderful in his opinion. What his problem was that he was forgettable. Nothing about him stood out. He was not handsome, he was not strong, and he was not rich. After all, that was why he had summoned his demons, the shades of the dead that were sour and vengeful and completely under his control. Now he had all the power he wanted in addition to his own. With the demons he had more power, but he was still forgettable…
He was shaking off these thoughts as he left his room, and walked through the never ending corridors of his castle; passing servants that gave him dirty looks behind his back when they thought he couldn't see them.
Probably imagining a noose around my neck, he thought darkly. After all, it was not their choice to work there. When he crowned himself as king he had asked the young able people to work. Their elders had made them do it. The men were sent all over rebuilding the lands that had been damaged in the Earthburrer attacks. And the women simply did housework for money. They did not mind working and rebuilding, but they blamed him for the massacre. They hated him for it. But they had no choice. In that realm, he ruled. He knew it, and they knew it too.
Draconis slightly slowed at the snub-snout women with scales running down their slim necks. He grinned and gave a mocking wave. They made a face of pure contempt and a rude gesture at him. Of course, they could try to rip his head off now and he would have to kill them, but he was exhausted and wasn't in the mood for fighting. But, of course, they didn't need to know that. Draconis looked around the corridor as he walked on and saw some lizard people rushing about with pails of stones and mortar in which they used to rebuild houses. He sighed deeply.
There were lizard people who had survived the Earthburrer massacre a couple of years ago. But he was one of the few lizard people with magic, a mage. Most lizard people lacked an ounce of power; it was why they had come to view the dragons in reverence. He was stronger magically than most creatures in total, though his power often paled in brute strength compared to most of the older dragons, which were dead. But this magic that he had; it was his own natural power, unlike the DragonTouched.
The DragonTouched were lizard people with a fleeting bit of natural power, enhanced by dragon power. The DragonTouched varied in style, personalities, and all sorts of levels of strength. The only similarity between the DragonTouched was the effect it had on the Touched people. They all had reptilian features thrust upon them, such as scales or a forked tongue, slit pupils; some would have awkward dragon-like limbs, and would even have wings or tails. These features carried out down to the children with DragonTouched parentage. Like the snake-legged, or the mermaids that beseeched the cove, or the cold-blooded people who managed to avoid any sort of misfortune, like Earthburrer attacks.
A loud voice snapped Draconis out of his reverie. He thought about this every morning he bothered to leave his room. About what was and what could not be. A tall man came striding over, shoving scaly bodies out of his way. He was a lizard person, but his mother had been Touched and as a result he had hatched from a bodily egg and had acquired more draconic features. He had scales around his torso, which he kept bare; it was as orange as his hair. He could unfurl huge wings when they weren't bound tightly, which they were now by Draconis's order. His eyes were bulging and his pupils were vertically slit. His name was Mardhral.
"Lord, why are you up like so? Aren't you a little weak after your…" he lowered his voice a bit. "Activities from a couple nights ago? Perhaps it is best if went back to bed and rest. I could have maid bring you some tea.
Draconis scowled and stood a little straighter. He did not like to be ordered, most particularly by a DragonTouched. And he did not like to be treated like a child.
"Shut up Mardhral, you know by now that I am never weak."
Of course, this was a complete lie. Draconis was not physically gifted. He was snide and thought it was best to lead people on thinking that his power was always strong. He wanted to get stronger but he feared perfection. After all, perfection was the end of his purpose. With perfection, you couldn't get any better. Draconis wanted to be the best. He wanted to be the best to defeat the dragons and all those associated with them. That was what his mother had taught him. Even now he could still hear her voice in his head, whispering new things. In the background, he could hear Mardhral talking loudly down to a few fully human lizard people.
Lizard people are the only people I pay, he thought as he watched Mardhral talk down to the girls,because they are my servants so I order them .But you, DragonTouched ,you are my slaves…
Lana hated Princis. By order of the elders, she was supposed to marry him, and have several children. She was disgusted at the very thought of laying her eggs for that monster. She was supposed to be the first to bring back the dragon power, from "Lord" Draconis who had taken it as well as taken several of her friends and family. She wanted to retrieve the power that was once rightfully theirs; but the thought of bringing it back with the help of Princis made her sick. But this was the last free dragon tribe in this realm. And she had no choice.
They lived on the mountain, a giant hollow cone protruding massively toward the sky. Inside, below the inside edge shelf, was riddled with Earthburrer holes. No dragon or lizard person wanted to come there. The Earthburrers were vicious here, tunneling in and out, exploding out of the earth unexpected and devouring anything in front of it. Near the top of the hollow there were a couple of abandoned tunnels where the dragons now lived.
Lana thought about Princis and the marriage that was to come. Apparently, she was to marry the moment Princis power bloomed. Sighing softly through her nostrils, she stretched her wings high to catch the wind and took off. She wasn't supposed to be near the Safelands where the lizard people lived, but she didn't care. All she'd get was a lecture from the elder Council. True captivity she would prefer to being stuck in the small Hollow cove. She flew away from the Hollow Cove, the small lands everyone knew Lord Draconis didn't know. It wasn't right, too small for magnificent creatures like her.
Sighing softly again, she spun around through the air, chasing the tip of her tail in slow easy circles.
IT was midmorning when Liz turned and saw Lord Draconis —a title he had given himself — walking through the corridor she was in. As usual, he looked thin and sallow and generally depressed. An expression not easily found on a young face. It was odd on the 12- year old face. Behind him followed his "bodyguard"—a beefy Touched man who wasn't very smart and constantly in everyone's business. Draconis always looked frequently annoyed with him, so Liz was almost certain he could care less about what his servants gossiped about. Mardhral was just one of the Touched people trying to kiss up to avoid Draconis's prejudice.
She grabbed an abandoned bucket and walked quickly through the mazelike walkways trying to look busy in efforts to avoid him. She ended up passing him any way. As she walked by, she thought he gave her a slight smile. It wasn't genuine of course. The 'lord' never smiled.
Liz squeezed the rag and pretended to wash a window while her mind went wondering in her thoughts. Liz always wondered how a brat like him who wasn't even DragonTouched had enough power to take over the dragons…
It was two years after she heard of the Earthburrer Massacre that happened in a couple of villages. She was fortunate that the vicious demons had not attacked her small village as well. She had hoped that the story wasn't true. The women she heard the news from were always gossips. But she was proved wrong.
He had come to her village about three weeks ago saying that there was a new ruler and implied anyone for work. He needed people to work and rebuild villages that had been destroyed. It was more of a blatant statement. Some people didn't mind working, since they were getting paid for it. Others felt that it was none of their business and that working for the new ruler would be a bad omen to worse fates.
Liz was one of those people who didn't want to work. She liked to think of Draconis as the villain. If it wasn't for him she wouldn't be here washing windows and doing housemaid chores. She squeezed the rag angrily, so hard that it almost ripped.
It was of course, her parents who sent her, glad to be rid of their pretty daughter after she wrecked a third engagement to a rich man. She had sobbed and begged and was practically up to her knees in tears asking desperately not to go, but her parents desperately needed money and they were willing to get rid of their "useless" daughter. She felt like punching the new "ruler". Who does this new ruler think he is? Asking people to work? It's probably his fault for the massacre, she had thought angrily as she was forced to walk with the other recruits. She had not known that the new ruler was a twelve year old boy; she had assumed he was a message boy.
Liz sat down now, abandoning her useless attempt to look busy, and thought about her arrival. She was still quite new.
When she had approached the flat building he called a palace, the boy introduced himself as Draconis and her new king. Along the way, (despite the fact that he was twelve and three years younger than her) the boy had scared her and then some. He had a plain almost expressionless face. But he also had dark, angry, heavy lidded eyes that were completely solid; you couldn't tell where was looking unless he turned his head, and he never smiled or showed any type of emotion unless it was some sort of displeasure. He never even had the slight apprehension most guys had when they looked at her. This had very much annoyed her because she was pretty.
She was a beauty, a damsel with a thousand eyes upon her with want. She had striking black hair that flowed below her knees, and a perfectly curved short stature that filled her out, and deep chocolate brown skin free of blemishes. Her eyes were kaleidoscope of browns. Her first gift had been a mirror to gaze upon, as she did so now. Liz had hundreds of mirrors; silver, glass, bronze, and gold. Some were enchanted to accent her more. And spirits. Spirits seemed to love her mirrors as much as she loved herself, breathing their cold sweet breaths to fog up the glass.
She slept surrounded by her mirrors on her bed. On her job as a maid, she kept several in her pockets. She sighed, got up and resumed to look busy.
She fingered that mirror now as she pretended to work in the main palace. She was really watching the Lord who had stopped walking as he talked to Mardhral, not really looking at the Touched man. Rather, he was looking at her with his scary intelligent eyes, unfazed by her beauty. That slightly annoyed her; it was easy to mess up or not do anything when a man was distracted. It had always gotten her in easy.
Liz was really starting to get bothered; Draconis's face was turned stubbornly in her direction. Why had he even left his room? He rarely did so. Liz wondered about his room as she began to pretend to clean the rough edge. No one was allowed in to clean or anything and he often disappeared in his room for days. Most people said he had a portal in there. Others said he kept a dragon in there. Still others claimed he kept his demons of power there that killed the dragons. That was simply utter stupidity, as the room was the size of any other. But Liz had questions about the demons.
She glimpsed back at Draconis; his head was now turned. It really was quite a shock he was in her presence, not locked up in his room. He had seemed to be going through the halls purposelessly, and perhaps that was the most standoffish thing— he always had a purpose.
A thought occurred to Liz. If he was not in his room, then his room was empty, and he wasn't looking at her. Liz slid out of sight in the corridor.
Right, so I hope this makes more sense than the first time ii updated this, and if FictionPress dares to screw up the spacing again, i swear I'll scream. This is the second time I'm posting this up, and the first time it was a one shot, but it was twenty thousand words and theeonly peron that read it was myself...
Review! This thing already done and written, and I'm currently working on part 2. I'l try and get another chapter out perhaps tomorrow...
Just a warning to all my readers, I have an unstable connection to intenet, so i may be cut off from the internet at home, and be reduced to updatin gnew chapters in an amount of five minutes at the library, so if future updates sck, sorry. I'm also a terrible typer, so... yeah.
See ya, and thanks for reading!