The Dragon Father (beginning)

A short story that was planned to become something more.

The time has come, when men and women alike, have lost all hope. The whole City was engulfed into flames. What once was a great, lavish City known well for its grandiose and splendor was now a perilous ruin. Not even a shadow of its former self, but yet, in all that death and destruction, the brinks of once a mighty metropolis could be seen, unaffected by the fire. By death.
Its people were making their last stand. A hopeless run for their lives, many have been rushing, struggling, clawing their way towards the City’s gates. Rivers of blood flooded the streets. Corpses of innocents, soldiers, those who tried to fight the never before seen abomination that was defiling the city, were piling up on the blood-soaked streets.

It was a 30-meter colossus. The harbourers of the City were celebrating a holiday when, out of nowhere, like it was summoned, that dreadful menace had appeared. A warm, sunny day has turned into a seemingly never-ending darkness. A horror never seen on the face of the Earth. Or was it, truly?

It was a warm, sunny day outside. General Wehmar has been ordering his guardsmen around the First Square within Ember City. “I want you to keep close watch over the King!” he groaned in his thick voice. He was a strong, tall man with a broad chest and a firm, military posture. Locks of wavy, light-brown hair were falling over his shoulders, while on some places the locks were curled up into a spring. Wehmar had a light face with an everlasting joyous expression. He was respected among his men and the citizens of Ember City alike. But, as all good men do, Wehmar too, had enemies. Lowlifes and scum who were now hacking away their sentences in the dungeons, thanks to Wehmar of course, they all hated him, and some of them even swore that if they ever had a chance, they’d kill the b*****d general without hesitation. Wehmar knew that, but he didn’t pay attention to empty threats of nobodies.

The citizens of Ember City were celebrating the anniversary of the Founding of the City. It was a century since the mighty walls of Ember City had been standing mighty and tall on the far South of the Dracarian continent.

The people of Dracaria all know the ancient story about the Dragon Father. It goes on that when the World was created, the first creature to set foot on it was a dragon of stupendous size that had ruled the entire World for ages. It is said that he had sewn terror throughout the globe with fire and death using his dragon regents that served his will. His throne was located on the very continent of Dracaria. Dragon Father entered the World on Dracaria, built his terror reign from there, released a spawn of dragons and met his demise. They say a mighty warrior that came from another world, different than ours, had slain the Dragon Father and his entire generation of dragons. The people had given him the name Draga, while he carried a sword that was as wide as a human’s head and large as an oak tree. Drago was a giant in his size. Three times taller than any other human, and some say that he was immortal and some even venerated him as a diety. But, soon after he had slain the dragons and ended the terrible rule of Dragon Father, he had disappeared, leaving his sword behind. The Stewards of the Four Cities of Dracaria had taken the sword and had their blacksmiths break it into a thousand pieces and re-forge those pieces into new swords that were given out to their knights and high-ranking officials. The stewards themselves, now taking the titles of Kings, had swords forged entirely out of pieces of the Dragon’s bane, while others had just fragments inside regular steel. When the Dragon Father was slain, it is believed that his body and power was broken down and divided into five different parts using powerful magic. Those five parts were given to a sacred order of mage-priests known as the Guardians who had built temples all over Dracaria, but sadly, no one except the First Priest knows the true location of the pieces.
A prophecy was foretold that, one day, the five pieces shall be uncovered and that Dragon Father shall be born unto this World once again and we shall face a new Age of Dragons.
Today, those stories are just legends that we use to tell our children at night. Even the swords that were forged out from Dragon’s Bane are now lost or never have existed.

The feast on Ember Day (the anniversary celebration of the founding of Ember City) was enormous. The entire city has gathered in the biggest square within the Ember City, and if it is to believe the old Guardian priests, it is where Ember City was founded. First Square, they called it.
The square itself was a vast flat surface among the many tall buildings of Ember City. The centre of the square had a massive statue of Steward Therion, who became the First King of Ember City. The statue was made of beautiful, shining white marble that was carefully carved and protected throughout generations by the Priests of the Guardian order. To this day, it remains the same as when ti was first erected. From the statue, the square had expanded in a circular manner. The square was made up of 1212 round plates spanning from the statue to the Guardian temple and the City Hall. The feasting tables were located on the 121^st circle and there, the many skilful cooks had exhibited their culinary masterpieces.
The air in the square reeked on roasted meat and exotic seasonings. The atmosphere was filled with chatter, laughter and clanging of glasses. A bit away from the tables, there were performers that were entertaining the public. Jesters were juggling, clowns were running around and people were laughing. The real fun started when a local theatre did a short play that was based on the story of Draga and how he had slain the Dragon Father. The crowd was cheering and dancing to the jolly tunes that bards had played from their harps, trumpets and violins. But, the massive horde of celebrating people had suddenly fallen silent when the King marched out from the City Hall. Every person fell to their knees to salute the King. While he was passing the statue of Therion, king Dareon had stopped. He took a moment to look around and observe his subjects and the feast and then he thundered “LET US CELEBRATE!” with a cheerful smile. All of the people sprung up from their knees and suddenly the atmosphere became loud and jolly once again, this time, maybe even louder than before.

King Dareon was not a very tall man, and due to Dracaria being peaceful for many decades, the King has grown fond of festivities and celebrations. He had a bulky stomach that he barely could fit into his royal clothing, so he often wore a wide coat with which he used to cover up his hanging belly. Dareon had a long black beard that was laced with white hair and over the years, the blackness was slowly fading away. He wasn’t so old, but his youth was leaving him quicker than most of people. He was almost always drunk, so whenever he wandered off from his great palace, you could see the King shambling and striding on the streets, often half naked. He wasn’t such a good ruler but was respected as the man who provided his people with many festivities, while the man who ran the city from ‘behind the curtains’ was the Ember City’s alderman, Lord Servik.

The king was walking down from the statue of Therion to his royal table where a special feast was prepared just for him and the cities high-ranking officials and nobles. A group of five guardsmen from king Dareon’s personal guard had followed him, while the Alderman and a few other nobles were walking by the king’s side. Wehmar walked down the circular path to meet the King, purely formal. King Dareon considered Wehmar a close friend, while Wehmar wasn’t so fond of the King’s company. He didn’t like rich drunkards, so he tried to keep away whenever he could. When Wehmar stood before the King, he put his right hand on his chest and gently bowed down. “You Majesty, my Lords.” He uttered. The King slammed his fat hand on Wehmar’s back. “No need for formality now, old friend. We’re celebrating, d****t!” king Dareon said with a friendly smile. Wehmar looked at him and bent his lips into a gentle smile. “I believe that duty and respect come before all else, you Majesty. I cannot forget my obligation towards you.” Wehmar spoke while they were getting closer to the King’s feasting table. “A loyal man, as always. I believe it is good to have men like this in our service, still.” Spoke Alderman. “I have noticed the decline in the respect of people they have towards authorities.” He finished. “Always a businessman, Alderman.” Said the King. “Come, let us feast now, for we won’t have this wonderful celebration for another year!” King Dareon shouted as he was drawing out his chair. Then, as he sat down his large body, he burst out into laughter. “Ah, I love this.” Said the King while stopping laughing. “WOMAN!” he yelled at a servant. “BRING US WINE! ONLY THE FINEST HARVEST TODAY!” The servant ran away and quickly came back with a large brass bottle of wine. She sipped the King’s large golden glass and left the wine on the table. The King took up the glass and took a big gulp of wine. Too much wine inside his mouth overflowed and slopped down his chin and onto the beard, with thin, violet lines. The King slammed his glass on the table and cried “LET US EAT!” Everyone dug into the feast, and the king tore away a large pheasant leg and took a big venison steak onto his golden plate. Wehmar was standing further away from the table, watching the people and the situation, ready to give out orders if trouble was to appear.
“WEHMAR”, shouted king Dareon. Wehmar turned towards the King and saw him holding up a big plate loaded with different meats. “Come, you won’t stand watch with an empty belly, will you now?” the king asked. Wehmar, even though he was not hungry, walked up to the King and took the plate while thanking him and bowing down. When he was moving away, he could hear the King saying “Damn soldiers and their manners”. Wehmar did not pay attention to it, and he proceeded to walk up near the ancient Guardian temple. There were two soldiers standing guard on the main gate. Wehmar took a piece of white chicken breast and stuffed it in his mouth. He felt the spice burning up his tongue but then, as he chewed more, he tasted the sweetness of the honey in which the chicken was roasted. While he was eating, a tall, hooded figure caught his eye. He saw the hooded man approaching the Temple, but, due to the feast and the celebration, people were to be kept away from the temple in order not to desecrate the holy place while being drunk. Wehmar swallowed the meat and shoved the plate that was still filled with meat, into the hands of one of the soldiers that were guarding the entrance to the temple. “Here, have a treat on me.” He said as he walked between the soldiers and inside the temple.

When he entered inside, a wave of cool, stale air had swept his face. “Damn temples not having windows”, he cursed in himself. But, nonetheless, the coolness of the air felt more pleasant than the hot air outside. Even the loud clamour had subsided to a point where he almost couldn’t hear anything. The temple was enshrouded in silence. Wehmar could only hear the sound his heavy, plated boots made on the cold stone floor. Then, he slowed down as he heard a strange humming voice coming from the centre of the temple. The arch on the entrance of the central room was made up of two statues of Guardians crossing their swords above the doorway. The torches that were placed in the hands of the statues were put out. Wehmar found that odd since, the torches were always burning. No matter what time of day it was. Then, upon stepping through the doorway, Wehmar saw something that prompted him to immediately draw his sword. The cold steel rang through the temple. On the stone floor, right next to the pedestal, the High Priest of Ember City was laying down. His body was surrounded by a thick, crimson liquid that was still spreading on the floor, finding its way into every little crack and hole. Then, Wehmar noticed a smooth cut on the Priest’s back. His torso was separated from the rest of the body, but the two halves remained so close to each other that, you could hardly see the cut. It was so precise and clean, Wehmar thought to himself. He didn’t know of a tool or a weapon that could cut a man’s body in this manner. Wehmar sensed the air becoming heavier and heavier, with a certain malevolence. He tightened the grip around the hilt of his sword and continued to walk forward. Now, the humming turned to incomprehensible chanting. It was a language Wehmar never heard before. When he passed the wall where the Priest was laying down, brutally murdered, he saw him. A tall, skinny man, with short, spiky hair was standing on the altar with his tattooed hands raised in the air. He was the one who was chanting. When Wehmar started closing up on the man, he felt a weird sensation, an energy surge that went through his whole body. He shivered and called “HEY!” The man continued to chant. “STOP THAT AT ONCE!” ordered Wehmar and picked up speed, now running towards the man on the altar. Wehmar was in full sprint, and when he got close enough to the man, he jumped in the air swinging his sword. He saw the man look at him with his empty eyes that had a faint blue glow. Before he could shout anything, a sudden flash of white light had blinded him and he felt like he was levitating in the air atop of the man on the altar. Suddenly, he felt a thud. And then, another, and another. Then, another flash and from that white light, he saw that he was hit with something that resembled a lightning bolt. Wehmar was now flying across the room in the centre of the Temple. He felt a blunt, smashing pain in his back when he crashed on the wall behind him. He fell down to the stone floor and lost consciousness.

When Wehmar opened his eyes, he found himself laying on the cold, stone temple floor. When he tried to get back up, he felt a dull pain in his back and under his arm. He slowly pushed against his ribs and the pain intensified. “Broken” he hissed. He somehow managed to get up, and looked around. The wall that he had crashed into was smashed on the place where he’d hit it. “What in the…” he cursed silently. He placed his hand on the damaged wall, still in utter disbelief that he was thrown with such force that the hit caused that much damage. He turned back around and looked at the altar. The carved stone had stood there, with daylight falling on top of it from the narrow skylight opening, somewhere on top of the wall. “I guess I was not blacked out that much.” Wehmar thought. He saw his sword lying near the stone bench. He bent down to pick it up, and he felt sharp pain piercing his broken ribs. He sheathed the sword and quickly ran out of the temple.

Wehmar was finally out of the temple. A wave of hot air felt like a slap on the face when he first got out of the cold temple. The two guards were still standing there and the clamouring of people celebrating did not die down. When he approached the guards he asked them “How long was I in there?” “Not very long, sire”, answered one of the guards, but when he turned around and looked at Wehmar, the guard gasped in utter surprise. “What happened to you sir?” he asked, slightly puzzled by the appearance of his General. Wehmar did not realize how he’d looked. His head was scraped above the right eyebrow and a small line of dried blood was running down the length of his face. “W-What?” he asked while his hand sprung up to his face. He touched his eyebrow and felt pain. When he looked at his finger, he saw blood. His chest-plate was dented, and his boots were covered in blood. “I must’ve stepped into the puddle from that poor old Priest” he thought. “N-nothing to worry about, soldiers. Carry on your duties.” Wehmar quickly ordered, while regaining his previous stoutness and marched away from the guards.

While marching through the merry crowd of, now slightly drunk, townspeople that were being entertained by two jesters, his gaze flew over the seemingly endless sea of people in search of his wife. “Where are you, d****t” Wehmar muttered angrily. Ever since he woke up in that temple, Wehmar had an uneasy feeling in his gut that something horrible is going to happen. Being the man he was, Wehmar trusted his gut. So, he decided to find his wife and warn her, best if he could make her get out of the city while it is still safe enough. As he was passing by the statue of Therion, a man in black robes caught his eye. He stopped and looked at him closely, and suddenly realized that it was the same man from the temple, only this time, the hood on his long, black robe was down, revealing his snow-shite hair and a neck filled with tattoos. Wehmar drew his sword and yelled: “HEY!” while forcefully making his way through the crowd of loud people. When they saw that Wehmar was trying to get through with his weapon drawn, they got out of his way while being slightly confused. “HEY!” groaned Wehmar once again. “STOP THAT!” Wehmar’s yelling and warnings didn’t seem to bother the tattooed man at the slightest. He was climbing up the stairs toward the mount of Therion’s statue. Wehmar was now running and yelling. People were now clearing the way for him, concerned that he will not accidentally cut them with his sword. Fat king Dareon noticed that something was going on as the loud murmur was slowly ceasing near the statue of Therion. He stood up to try and see what exactly was happening and when he saw Wehmar running with his sword out, he dropped his glass. The metal clanked against the marble table and fell down on the stone slabs on the ground.

The tattooed man has put his hands against the marble foot of Therion’s statue and started to murmur something. “SOMEONE STOP THAT MAN!” Wehmar was screaming atop of his lungs while pointing to the statue with his sword. Two soldiers that were nearer than Wehmar heard his order and cocked their rifles while approaching the man against the statue. “Mister, you need to stop doing that”, said one of the soldiers in a calm, yet strict voice. “Or we will be forced to put you down.” The murmurs turned to loud chanting, the kind that could be heard during rituals in the temple. “Stop that, now.” Ordered a soldier, while pointing his rifle at the tattooed man. He just looked at the two soldiers under the eye and suddenly, there was a flash. Wehmar was slightly dazed from the sudden burst of white light, and as he was regaining his vision, the loud chanting from the tattooed man had now stopped. All he saw was two soldiers lying down on the marble-paved ground. It wouldn’t be strange if the two soldiers weren’t cut in half, with parts of their bodies scattered around the statue. The white paved ground was now sprayed with blood and where the body parts were laying, a puddle of red liquid was slowly spreading. A woman screamed and a violent turmoil broke out. People that were enjoying their food and drink, that were laughing to the performance of the jesters, were now running around and screaming. The King stood at his table, staring in utter disbelief.
Wehmar didn’t allow that to confuse him, so he rushed to the statue. When he finally got there, he was horrified with the two mutilated bodies that were in front of him. He lowered his sword and then, out of nowhere his vision blackened as he fell to the ground after he felt a dull blow on the back of his head.

When Wehmar finally came by, he uttered angrily: “Twice in one day…” He got up and realized that his formal coat was soaked with blood. He fell down near the severed legs of one of the dead soldiers. Goosebumps went through his entire body, but he ignored it and focused his attention to the statue of Therion.
The rambling crowd of terrified, drunk people was now running all over Ember City, trying to get to their homes as fast as they can. There were drunks that were sleeping with their faces in their plates on the feasting tables, and some were just standing there, confused. The Alderman came running and stood by Wehmar’s side. “What in hell happened here?” he asked, in utter disbelief. “I would tell you, my Lord, if I knew. This is something like I’ve never seen before.” Wehmar replied. Alderman was still staring at the severed torso that was lying in a puddle of blood. “Who…who was that…monster?” Wehmar looked at him. “While you were celebrating, I saw that same…man go inside the temple. I followed him in, and...I’m afraid the High Priest was in the same condition as these two poor sods are right now.” Alderman ran his fingers through his thin brown hair, while the thick, grey sideburns framed his square jaw. His blue eyes were staring off at nowhere when he finally spoke, crossing his arms: “You are saying that the same man killed the High Priest?” “Yes, my Lord. Also, he was standing on top of the altar and chanting something similar to what he’d done on the statue. I tried to stop him, but…I ended up being thrown across the room and crashing into a wall.” Said Wehmar, while squeezing the hilt of his large sword. He felt uneasy, knowing that he was defeated by somebody, two times in a short span of time.

Their conversation was interrupted by the grinding sound that stone makes when two rocks are rubbed against each other. It was coming from the statue. Wehmar and Alderman looked at the statue. On the statue, on the parts where joints were supposed to be, thin lines started to appear. As somebody was cutting the statue up, but, the limbs didn’t fall off of the body, instead, the black lines were slowly being filled with a fiery-red liquid. The entire statue was now “bleeding” something that resembled molten steel. Wehmar took a defensive position in front of the Alderman, tightly holding onto his sword. Then, all of a sudden, the marble statue had opened its eyes.
Wehmar and Alderman started slowly backing up and getting away from the weird statue. The hollow, gaping black holes of Therion’s statue were slowly being replaced by the same incandescent liquid. It seemed like fiery tears ran down the statue’s white, marble, expressionless face. “Go.” Wehmar said to Alderman. “Bu-“, Alderman started to rebel, but Wehmar interrupted him by ordering “I SAID GO! I will watch over your back.” Alderman looked at him one more time, trying to understand what Wehmar was thinking, but then, he turned around and started running. Wehmar looked towards the table where the King and his nobles were seated at. Nobody was there, except the fat King who was waddling across the First Square. (to be cont'd)