Draconic Ages

In a world of fantasy where the balance of power begins to tip. Can a small band of heroes stop the darkness? Or will they succumb and lead the black tide?

The soft footfalls of the sole being moving through the streets of the market district in the Drow city of Morathain hardly made an echo as it made its way amongst the winding paths of the city. This young male Drow was Zephnir Zarkona, assassin and youngest son of House Zarkona. He was quickly moving through the massive cavern that made up the public distric and market of the city to the section of the interior wall that housed the tunnels and rooms which made up his families House. Of the six males of House Zarkona, Zephnir was the only one to be initiated into the assassins, the Hands of Shadow. The Hands answered only to the Queen of Morathain. They were her eyes and hands, her hidden blade. The two eldest of House Zarkona, Zephnir’s oldest brothers, were members of the Zak-Voran, the group of chosen holy warriors devoted to the Dragon God, Zaknerran, black dragon and creator of the Dark Elves, or Drow, as they were commonly called.

   

    Zephnir moved quickly and quietly through the streets. True, he was in his home town, and any Drow would feel safety in a massive cavern away from the sun. But this was Morathain, City of the Drow, who were known for their deceitfulness and desire for power. There were constant house wars as each tried get get ahead of the other. Their goal: the title of Steward. The Steward’s House were the protectors of the Royal Family and commanders of the Royal Army, for though the Drow were divided individually, they were united under the name of the Queen. When the call to war came, the Houses put aside their wars for the common enemy...and promptly resumed once they were back.

    His eye’s scanned the buildings and shops around him. Zephnir’s training had him constantly alert, and the streets were unusually empty for the certain time of day, and that thought had him moving a little faster. Not a single creature was seen the rest of the way and Zephnir was about to turn the final corner and come into sight of his House, when he stopped cold. There was a tingle running down his spine, and he knew to trust that particular tingle.

    Closing his eyes, Zephnir summoned up the power in a small pendant hanging around his neck. The pendant was a symbol of the Hand: a dragons head, with outstretched wings embracing a single black hand. Shadows swirled around Zephnir, wrapping him in darkness. When he opened his eyes, he had vanished from sight. Drow are gifted with two additional visions other than seeing in normal light. They have Infravision, or the ability to see in degrees of heat, and a darklight vision, which makes it look like they are looking at the dark as if its bathed in moonlight from a full moon. Zephnir’s invisibility made him invisible to all forms of vision. As he turned the corner and scanned the walls and streets, letting his eyes slip into infravision. Along the far wall, roughly a couple hundred feet away from the gates, were three flickering beings of heat.

   

    ‘Three soldiers against one assassin?’ Zephnir thought to himself. ‘I like those odds.’ Zephnir drew his twin daggers and stealthily made his way towards his targets.

    He was halfway to them when they detached themselves from the wall. Zephnir paused and let his eyes moved back to normal light. Three soldiers, all armed and geared to the core, however, thank the Dragons above, no assassins, Zak-Voran, or mages. Although, one of them looked to be the Captain of the Guard. He wore the normal black full plate armor that all soldiers wear, but on his shoulder plate was the captain’s symbol. His armor, and the massive greatsword on his back shimmered slightly with magic energy, which told him they were enchanted. The other two weren't to be taken lightly either. Both also wore the same black armor, though neither was enchanted. One wielded twin war axes, whose blades gleamed in the dark, and the second carried a halberd with a wicked, barbed spear tip. Zephnir was just about to move around them when the captain spoke.

    “Fan out. He’s close.” The two on either side instantly move out of the middle, towards the outside of the street.

    “I don’t see anything.” said the Drow on the opposite side of the street from Zephnir, the one with the axes.

    “It’s his pendant.” said the other, closest to Zephnir. “One of my brothers is a member of the Hand. ”They receive a pendant personally enchanted by the Queen. It shrouds the wearer in shadows, rendering them invisible to others.”

    Zephnir frowned. No one was supposed to know that the pendant was enchanted, much less the nature of the enchantment, except for the members of the Hand themselves. He would have to have a “chat” with this brother...if he found out which House these three belonged to. So far, Zephnir hadn’t seen any sign, symbol, or emblem, or anything for that matter, that would give a hint to who they were.

    “Well, it just so happens...” said the leader, more than a little smugly. “that my father gave me a charm to banish all hostile enchantments in an area.” He began to reach into a pouch on his belt.

    Zephnir cursed and launched himself at the closest opponent. He knew if he was going to have a chance in this fight, he needed to take out the two pawns, and fast. Rushing up to the Drow, he ducked under the outstretched halberd and brought his daggers up in a cross slash across the throat, drawing a bloody X. Before there was a chance for reaction from the other two and the body even had a chance to fall, Zephnir spun. Sheathing one of his daggers, he grabbed the halberd and threw it like a javelin at the Drow across the street. The target was just turning towards Zephnir’s sudden appearance, right in time to catch the spear point in the chest. There was a dull ‘thud’ as the weapon connected, piercing through the breastplate. The Drow gasped a couple times before coughing up a few globs of blood and slumping to the floor.

    Engaging the two in combat shattered the pendant’s spell. As he completed his spin, Zephnir grabbed his sheathed dagger and dropped into a defensive stance facing the captain. The Drow removed his hand from the pouch and pulled the greatsword from his back.

    “That works too, I guess.” He grinned and spoke a command word. His sword responded and erupted into flames. “Greetings, assassin of House Zarkona.”

    “Well met.” Zephnir responded politely. “Would you be so kind as to move? You are blocking the path to my House.”

    The captain laughed. “I’m afraid that I can’t and will have to decline that request. Today is the day you die.”

    With that, he lunged at Zephnir. His armored boots glowed slightly and he moved with increased speed. Zephnir barely got his blades up in a cross block to stop a strike that would have surely cleaved him in two. Pushing the blade aside with one dagger, Zephnir used his other to try to strike at the gaps in the armor. Each time however, he found his strikes blocked by a gauntleted hand. Zephnir ducked under another strike and kicked off his enemy’s forearm launching himself into the air and sheathing his daggers. While he was airborne, Zephnir fired a stream of spinning throwing blades from hidden pouches and belts along his own armor, each one coated with a deadly poison. The armored Drow simply plunged his sword into the ground and spoke another command word. The hilt flashed and a shield of crimson energy snapped up in front of him, blocking every single blade Zephnir had thrown.

    Zephnir landed roughly five yards away, crouched and ready. He slowly pulled his daggers back out and stood up. “Well sir,” Zephnir said, a tone of politeness in his voice. “It seems you are well prepared.” He gave his opponent a bow, low and formal. “I am Zephnir Zarkona, youngest son, Assassin of House Zarkona, and one of the many Hands of the Queen. May I have the name of such an honorable and worthy opponent?”

    The armored captain chuckled. “Such manners! Did they teach you that at assassin training, along with licking the queens boot?” he spat at the ground and sighed when Zephnir didn't respond. “No? Very well, I am Zatos, firstborn son of House Vineran, and Captain of the House Guard.” he pulled the sword out of the ground and pointed it at Zephnir. “House Zarkona has grown powerful in the last few decades. House Vineran has decided to give you a reminder of who is the strongest house.” Zatos readied himself and charged at Zephnir again.

    Zephnir waited till Zatos had covered half the distance before he too, lunged at his opponent, taking Zatos slightly off guard. When he was less than three paces away, Zephnir disappeared into darkness.

    Zatos paused, then spun, and realized his mistake. He had never used his father’s gift, never nullified the pendant’s magic. Zatos silently congratulated Zephnir and cursed his own pride and foolishness. Right as he felt Zephnir’s daggers bite into opposite sides of his neck.

The shadows disappeared as Zephnir stood over Zatos’s headless body. “House Vineran...so, the Steward’s House sees us as a threat?” He muttered to himself, a wicked smile blooming.

    “Taking public contracts now, Zeph?” came a male voice behind him.

    Zephnir spun into a crouch, daggers up in a defensive stance. However, he stood up straight and lowered his daggers as he recognized the Drow in front of him “Well look who dropped out of the sky...hey Onyx.”

    Onyx Onderon was Zephnir’s only friends, a rare thing found in Drow society. He was a Dragoon of the Zak-Voran. One would almost go as far as to describe the Zak-Voran as a cult of warrior priests. Initiates were given a set of light armor to begin with and were given the black draconic helm of the order. Acolytes received and were trained in the medium armor, as well as began to learn some of the rituals. Zealots earned the right to wear the heavy armor of the order and often accompanied the Royal Guard. But the Dragoons, like Onyx, were the elites. Chosen by Zaknerran himself, they were blessed with armored wing attachments to their armor. No one knows how they work and no one has ever dared try, but whatever the cause, they allow the wearer the ability of full flight. Dragoons were also allowed to learn the most secret of the Zak-Voran rituals.

    Zephnir looked over Onyx and smiled, and was greeted by a return smile. They had met during their years at the training academy. All Drow went there for basic training, it was also there that each person discovered his or her specialized style of fighting. After the academy, the Drow were chosen by the Royal House for their different places in society. Zephnir had been sent to the Hand, whereas Onyx had been selected for the Zak-Voran. They had kept their friendship, much to the disgruntlement of their families and peers.

Zephnir sheathed his blades. “Apparently, my House has made a powerful enemy.” he shrugged. “What about you? The Temple sending Dragoons to scour the streets?”

Onyx chuckled and pulled the large battleaxe from his back and gave it a few swings. “I was in the neighborhood and heard a clash, so I came to investigate.” Onyx nodded towards Zatos’s body. “Who’s your friend?”

Zephnir visibly flinched. “Yeah...that was Zatos...” he waited for a response, and when none came, he added. “of House Vineran.”

Onyx’s eyes widened. “Oh dear...” he put his axe back. “Well it was nice knowin ya!”

“Oh come on!” Zeph protested. “You really expect me to die? Give me some credit. I did just kill their firstborn son...by myself”

“Zeph, no one lives once they’ve been marked by House Vineran. NO ONE.” Onyx looked pointedly at Zatos. “You killed the firstborn. They will be gunning for your head with all the can muster. I doubt even your House can withstand that kind of attack.”

Zephnir paused to consider this. His family wasn’t ready to withstand an attack, not yet at least. Was there any way to get the attention off his family? The more he thought, the more his chosen conclusion made sense. He just didn't want to admit it to himself. He was going to have to leave Morathain. With him gone, House Vineran would focus on hunting him outside of the city, allowing his family to continue to grow in power, until they were able to hold off an attack. Or perhaps they could even launch an attack on House Vineran themselves. But where would he go? Drow weren’t exactly welcome in the world outside their Cities. He would have to talk to his father, perhaps his father would know where to go.

    Zephnir turned to Onyx. “I’m leaving Morathain.”

   

    Onyx stared at him with a blank expression, not sure he had heard right. “Come again?”

    “I said...” Zephnir repeated, playfully slowly. “I’m leaving Morathain. Tonight.”

    “How will that…” Onyx’s voice trailed off as he thought about it. “I see. Your family could deny any action, or possibly even say that they banished you for your actions. That way House Vineran would hunt you all over the outside world, leaving your House alone. Then House Zarkona could continue to rise in strength.” He gave Zephnir a sly look. “Clever.” Onyx’s look suddenly became thoughtful.

    Now it was Zephnir’s turn to look puzzled. “What are you thinking?” then it clicked. “No. No. Don’t even think about it. You have to stay here.”

    “Who are you to tell me what to do?” Onyx said, with mock severity. “How dare a lowly assassin believe he can tell a Dragoon, Chosen of Zaknerran, what he can and cannot do!” He laughed at the expression on Zephnir’s face. “Go! Tell your father about what happened and see if he knows any safe haven we can go to. I will go back to the temple, gather my gear, and pray to the Black Dragon for guidance. I shall meet you at the city gates at dusk.” With those parting words, Onyx spread his great armored wings, and launched himself into the air, disappearing into the shadows.

Author's Note

Grammar aside, I would like to know what you think about the storyline, settings, and character development and interaction. I will be adding more as I write more. I began this story in my sophomore year of high school. I have been rereading and rewriting it, so the more I write, the more i will post.

Reviews

[Tim Piotrowicz]

A great start and plenty of material here to spread the story in many directions. The wording worked to show me where and what was going on without being over embellishment. You make a great use of magic here that I dislike in stories because of the imbalance it brings to combat, but that clearly doesn't seem to be something you are troubled by. If you worked out the god-awful grammar problems and rephrased a few things, this could be a striking addition to the world of fantasy fiction.

[Kaine Allicaster]

One word my friend: Editors. But I'm glad you like it.

[Tina]

i love love love assassin stories especially when they can disappear. i like the magic you have. will the queen be in this story? she sounds like a worker of magic too! i hope you write more of this story!

[Kaine Allicaster]

Thank you. Be sure to keep checking, because I will continue to add to it. And as far as I have, no, the queen doesn't make an appearance. But we'll see.