Dragon Rite
#1
Catching Black Fire And The Breaking Dawn Riders
Text Copyright © 2011 by Kristie Lynn Higgins
Cover Art Copyright © 2011
by Kristie Lynn Higgins
Smashwords Edition
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Dragon Rite
#1
Catching Black Fire And The Breaking Dawn Riders
Kristie Lynn Higgins
In an age of magic, the Stygian Legion moved against the Land of Athenia during the first reign of men. The Stygian Legion was an army of warlocks under the command of King Viiss. King Viiss wanted to enter the land so he could steal a large jewel and open a doorway to the Void, a world of demons. They would have conquered Athenia if not for the dragons aligning with tribal men. Their combined forces of sorcery and steel repelled the advance of the Stygian Legion, and King Viiss returned to his kingdom empty handed.
Now during the third reign of men and a time of peace, young humans were brought to the land of dragons. They participated in the first ceremonial acts of the Dragon Rite. They would select an egg and raise the hatchling to achieve the Breaking Dawn, a hatchling's first flight. Once the Breaking Dawn was achieved, the candidates went through the third ceremonial act. In this act, the hatchling picked the candidate it would bond with and they would train with the dragon to become dracomen and dracowomen.
"I am not afraid of any dung smelling warlock," Barman said as he rode on horseback along with his two friends. He wore a brown leather vest over his bare chest. He also wore leather pants and boots. A silver plains horse decorated his vest. His long black hair was held back out of his eyes with a leather band that had the same silver plains horse decorating it. The others wore similar attire.
"Are you sure about that?" Turk questioned. He was the oldest of the three boys. He was sixteen and they fifteen. A gold grass tiger adorned his black vest and band. His hair was blond. "You have heard of the leviathan that those of the Stygian Legion rides. Do not tell me you are not afraid to face one of those malicious beasts?"
They had left the boundary of their home, the Northern Grass Plains, days ago and had entered the Forest of Pinus. Less than an hour ago, they had left the Forest of Pinus and entered Wyvern the Dragonlands. They had not seen a tree or shrub since doing so. They rode through a red and orange canyon as the sun broke at their backs. The third friend, Cyan, nudged his mare to catch up and the mare whinnied. He wore light brown leather with a silver grass hawk. Ahead of them rode Turk's father Bork who led their pack horse.
"If I had a dragon under me, I would not be afraid to face a warlock or his leviathan." Barman glanced back at the broadsword safely tucked in his bedroll. "I have my steel and the dragon its claws and magic."
"We are talking about leviathans," Turk said, "They are huge. I heard as big as a tower. Their hide is as black as the darkest pit. And they can swallow..." He looked to the slave girl sitting behind his father. His father was a large muscular man and Turk was a slightly smaller version of him. Turk continued, "They can swallow a girl whole."
She glanced back at the comment but said nothing. She did look frightened as if his tale planted a deep rooting seed of fear in her. She was barefoot and wore a sackcloth tunic.
Bork glanced back as the sun burned the horizon and barked, "We are late. Let us pick up the pace." He kicked his horse, and it galloped off. Bork's leather was ashen and marked by a great white grass bear.
Turk and his friends followed. The canyon path started to narrow, and the horses moved and formed a single file. Turk followed his father's pack horse. Barman him and Cyan brought up the rear. Turk removed a bota filled with water and took a drink. He was hot and noticed he wasn't sweating. The dry air of the region consumed any moister. Turk already missed his home and the cool breezes that would greet him of a morning. Here, the wind was harsh.
"So you would not be in the least bit afraid to face a leviathan?" Turk continued questioning his friend. "You know they bare their teeth right before they gobble you up."
She glanced back at him again. Her light blue eyes looked a little more frightened. She noticed he saw her glance, and she bowed her head and turned back around.
The path through the canyon veered, and the sun moved to the left of them.
"Why do you keep asking me this?" Barman questioned and peered at her. "Or are you trying to get a reaction from someone else? You are. So you like to be a tyrant even when we are away from home."
Turk ignored him, turned in his saddle, and asked his other friend, "What do you think Cyan? What would you do if you face a warlock and his leviathan?"
"I..." He started to answer when movement in the sky distracted him. Cyan shaded his eyes and peered up but whatever it had been had already flown by.
They heard a scream of a dragon in the distance and seconds later, a large, green, gold speckled one flew over them a second time. It returned and flew just above the canyon. The dragon kicked up a torrent of wind through the path as its wings flapped to keep itself hovering above them. Sand flew up and blasted the faces of the group. Bork halted his horse.
The dracoman yelled down to them, "Are you Bork, tribal leader of the Northern Grass Plains?" He wielded a large shield and spear.
"Yes," he shouted.
"Proceed with haste. The birthing is about to begin."
"We shall," Bork yelled and muttered under his breath, "Blasted dracoman! We would have been there if he had not stopped us with his dragon's cyclone."
"I shall meet you there," the dracoman yelled then turned his dragon and headed back.
The group pressed on and the path ended at Firedrake, the north-east nests of the dragons. The large open area formed an enclosed half circle, and the caves laid beyond that. Some distance from the caves was a stable. They quickly rode to the structure.
Bork dismounted his horse as his slave girl slid off behind him. He tied up his horse at the watering trough. Inside the stable, several horses and other riding animals could be heard moving about their stalls.
"Hurry girl," he said. "We are late."
"Yes, master," she replied as she limped to their pack horse and started unloading the equipment.
She was born with a shorter left leg and arm. At age five, she was sold to Bork to meet a debt her parents owed to the tribal leader. She was fourteen now and traveled with her masters. It was her first time leaving the tribal lands.
Bork brought his son and his two friends to participate in the Dragon Rite. She was there to prepare their meals while they stayed in Firedrake. The ceremonial acts would take about five fortnights.
The dracoman, who had spoken with them earlier, approached. "You must come now. The queen has already started her birthing pangs."
Bork started after the dracoman, paused, and shouted, "Fetch the gifts, girl. The rest of our items you can unload later. We are late for the first act of the Dragon Rite. Turk, Barman, and Cyan come with me. The queen shall soon lay her eggs if she has not already."
"Yes, father," Turk replied.
The three boys dismounted, removed their swords from their bedrolls, and followed Bork. He led them toward the caves. Two large dragons guarded the entrance. They were tall, three horses high, and winged. One was the color of bronze the other a teal color.
"I shall leave you here," the dracoman said. "I need to return to my patrol." He walked off.
The teal colored dragon carefully eyed the four of them and then said, "Elder Duran awaits you, Bork. You need to proceed with haste to the Ritual Room. The first act of the Rite is about to begin. It cannot be delayed."
"We shall hurry." Bork started in and paused. "Blasted! Where is that girl? We need the gifts. Useless girl! Turk, go see what is keeping her."
"Yes, father." Turk hurried back to their horses.
The others continued into the cave.
At the stables...
She was having difficulty undoing the pack. She finally unbuckled it and removed the wooden chest from the pack. She held the chest in her left hand and started toward the caves when something caught her eye in the sand. She reached down and picked up a small bloodstone. "This is pretty."
"What is taking you so long, wench?" Turk barked.
Startled, she looked up and saw his angry face. Trepidation ransacked her heart like one of the great tempest that ravaged her homeland, and she pleaded, "Forgive me, young master. I could not..."