The Shadows of Dragons

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," the Necfaerion man's words echoed off the craggy cliff walls. "And there never will be again."

With a grand flourish, he thrust his onyx broadsword into the great blue dragon's side. The dragon's eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but nothing happened. There was no burst of searing flame, no mighty roar. Instead, the people of the Lormist Valley watched in silent horror as the ancient dragon Qambiir let out a long, gurgling moan, took two shuddering, wheezing breaths, and then was still.

Grinning widely, the man turned toward his comrades and lifted his bloodied blade high into the air. Reah covered her ears in a vain attempt to muffle the wild cacophony of celebration from the other Necfaerion. Although there were only about thirty of them remaining, the force of their triumph seemed to shake the valley floor. They waved their weapons in the air and danced around Qambiir's blood-tinged blue corpse.

The man turned back to the people of Liada village. His features were largely obscured by black leather armor and a silver helm topped with a jagged crown. But Reah could see the pointy, fang-like teeth and solid black eyes that characterized all the Necfaerion. She shuddered involuntarily as he stepped toward the huddled crowd of villagers.

"I am Ra’imere, your rightful master," his soft voice pierced the air with authority. "Come now, and see your true purpose restored."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched eastward, deeper into the valley. The other Necfaerion lessened their jubilee and formed a tight line behind the villagers, herding them along. It was a warm, clear day, but the beauty was lost on Reah as she stared in horror at the aftermath of the battle around her. Gildran lay on his back amidst the charred bodies of about a dozen Necfaerion, his green wings bent at odd angles. Ahead, the gentle Jyres was nothing more than a smattering of red scales and gore-covered bone. The group continued onward, passing Ryndra's silvery body to the north, and her detached head to the south. The ancient twins Ygerru and Jhessael, appeared to be little more than bloody, golden scales. Hot tears stung Reah's eyes then, and the rest of the valley blurred as she walked.

Eventually Ra'imere stopped beside a deep, natural basin that contained the sacred Mirror Pool. Reah felt her heart sink into her stomach as he climbed down into the crystalline water. There was not a sound as they watched the Necfaerion pace to the center of the pool, onyx blade still held aloft.

"Four-hundred and thirty-seven years ago," Ra'imere began quietly, "we were unmercifully driven from this place. We provided for your ancestors. We gave you food and shelter, and protected you from the giants in the Skial Mountains," he paused thoughtfully. "We even gifted you the most precious thing that humanity could ever ask for: purpose." Ra'imere's brow furrowed over narrowed eyes. "And how did you repay us for our benevolence? By conspiring with these cursed beasts to drive us from our home," his voice shook with obvious hatred. Reah quivered and fought the urge to step back.

"But no matter," Ra'imere took a deep breath and his expression relaxed once again into a pleasant smile. "I am not unreasonable. I will give you a chance to earn our favor once more. Now behold our glory restored to the Lormist Valley."

And with that, he dipped the blood-stained onyx blade into the heart of the Mirror Pool.

Reah let out an involuntary gasp as deep crimson flowed out from Ra'imere's sword. The tainted waters roiled and churned, turning first red, then black as a cloudy, moonless night. After several long minutes, the water suddenly calmed. Reah peered over the lip of the basin into the Mirror Pool. She could not see the sky reflected above, or even a reflection of the Necfaerion man who was still standing in the center of the still pool. There was only darkness, so complete that the black water below seemed ready to reach out and swallow her.

Suddenly, tendrils of black shadow crept quickly up the sides of the basin. People screamed and tried to dodge the thick black stripes, but the shadows paid no heed to the valley people as it spread rapidly over the land. The Necfaerion began their revelry anew as Ra'imere climbed out of the corrupted Mirror Pool and led the stunned villagers back to Liada. Everywhere the shadow touched became sickly and lifeless. The lush green grass crumbled into a blanket of fine gray ash. The summer's signature violet and yellow flowers wilted under the shadows' weight. Their feet kicked up small clouds of ash as they passed gnarled, barren oak trees, gray summer vegetables, and miles and miles of ruined valley. Reah blew into her hands and rubbed them. The Lormist Valley suddenly felt chilly and damp, like a pre-dawn winter morning. As if the heat of the summer sun had also been siphoned away by the ravenous black shadow.

They continued to march wordlessly into the center of town. Ahead, Reah could see the large monument that served as a tribute to Liada's ancient saviors, the six grand dragons. The marble statue was beautifully and intricately carved, standing in stark contrast to the simple wooden and stone buildings that made up the rest of the town. Ra'imere stopped at the foot of the statue and gazed upward. He seemed to be studying the marble depiction of the dragon's victory of the Necfaerion nearly five hundred years ago. Reah could not see his face, but his clenched fists made her wary all the same. For several long minutes the villagers waited with baited breath. Finally, Ra'imere turned around, his expression blank and unreadable.

"Tear it down."

Reah gasped as the Necfaerion swarmed the statue in a frenzy. They clawed and climbed like ants over a piece of discarded fruit. In a matter of minutes, the once pristine, centuries-old tribute to the dragons lay in a crumpled heap of rubble.

A chill went up Reah's spine as Ra'imere stepped forward with a wide, unfriendly grin.

"Rest well, my children," he said softly. "Tomorrow your work begins anew."

Slowly, the people of Liada adjourned to their homes amidst the wild revelry of the Necfaerion. Reah and her mother slipped away quietly, passing small pools of dragons' blood and torn dragon scales along the way. The scattered glimmers of silver, red, green, blue, and gold offered a colorful reprieve from the never-ending sea of gray of the Lormist Valley. Reah picked up a gold scale about the size of her palm and slipped it into her pocket.

"There are certainly no more dragons in the valley," she whispered to her mother. The scale in her pocket seemed to grow heavier with the words.

"And it seems", her mother's eyes filled with tears, "there never will be again."