Chapter 1- A Rude Awakening
Planet Derkesthai; Continent Tlivus; the date is September 2nd of the year 58,273; 6:15 P.M.; Day 1.
Beneath closed eyes, Lessiam became aware of the comforting heat of the distant sun setting upon the flame-red horizon. The world was still.
Scrrreeeeellllllll! CRASH!!!! The ground shook Lessiam’s peace to bits. He came to with a start. Off in the distance he heard a cruel voice bellowing out “Puuuusshh!!” He attempted to raise his head to glimpse the source of the disturbance but found he possessed a stiffness the likes of which he’d never before experienced. He felt weak and old, as if near death. After a moment, he again tried to lift his head. It was becoming easier; soon he managed to tilt his head down toward the noise.
The last traces of the setting sun could still be seen in the west, but the sky was so dark with smoke and dust that the only light that made it through was in the form of bars of dust-laden beams. Lessiam was yet able to make out the source of the cacophony. Dirty humans in scraps of clothing were pushing huge rocks and boulders toward an open cart with gears and levers attached to its side. They were driven by a rough, unfriendly-looking man who sat upon a large black horse. Plastered across the man’s olive-complected face was a maniacal grin, rotten teeth spilling out over his lips. He screamed out frequent obscenities, with threats of death. To reinforce his threats, he periodically flipped a whip at the backs of the laborers—driving many of them to the ground as they cowered from the vicious blows.
Lessiam watched as the laborers managed to roll a large, craggy boulder into the mouth of the cart-like machine. Parts inside the machine’s mouth came together and quickly reduced the boulder to small bits of debris, causing heavy, black dust to billow out into the air around the slaves. With a large crack came another ground-shattering explosion. Huge chunks of rock fell around the laborers from the mountainside above them, the smaller pieces peppering them dangerously. Lessiam shuddered as he came to the realization that these people were working to demolish the rock and land! He’d seen humans do some odd things in his time, but nothing as outright destructive as this.
It was then that he heard a whimper, followed by what sounded like a sob. He felt a drop of something fall upon his forehead—then another above his mouth. He shot out his long tongue—hmmm, it was salty. He looked up. Not six feet above him sat a small human on a rock ledge. It was a lad of perhaps fifteen years of age. His silvery-blonde hair clung to his forehead and tear-streaked cheeks. It was clear that absolute despair clung to his very being. In one so young, the swaths of grey skin drooping below his eyes looked horribly abnormal. Covering his scrawny torso was a pair of dingy brownish strips that looked to be the last pitiful remains of a once-proud linen shirt. His threadbare, brown breeches were truncated just below the knees. He was unshod, his feet covered in filth; fresh cuts bloodied his arches.
Lessiam wanted to help. He moved his left arm up to wipe away the liquid. He could only move slowly and with greater effort than he’d ever felt before. Why did he feel so oddly stiff? Where did this human come from?
Energy was slowly seeping back into him. He lifted himself toward the lad. The young fellow hadn’t noticed him until now and, as soon as he did, he leapt up and began to run up the slope like Death itself was on his trail. About 15 yards along, he stumbled, got up and then threw himself forward again. Lessiam had always liked humans, but this day was getting to be too much. Had they all gone mad?
He stretched up and opened his wings wide and with a loud creak. He stood there as debris fell off of him. Once the dust had begun to settle, he surveyed his surroundings. His gold-green eyes adjusted to the lack of light and were met with black, craggy rock and dead trees as far as he could see—which was only about thirty miles with this poor light. He noted that there were mountains all around him. In his years he had flown most of the continent of Tlivus and yet had never seen this strange, desolate range.
Where was he? The last thing he could remember before his nap was being at home in the hills. He was in his cavern, playing with Krigsly, his portly friend. He had been hunting earlier in the day and had just eaten the stag he’d caught and cooked. He’d been full when he fell asleep, but now he felt absolutely famished. He looked down at his belly. It had never been this small since he was a pre-quad (younger than forty). He needed food. No wonder he was so stiff. He must’ve slept way too long!
It was then that he noticed a machine like the one he’d been watching was coming around the side of a mountain just a mile or so from him. It was being rolled around the foot of the peak and was getting closer to the mountain upon which he stood. There was another bellowing man driving the other slaves. He didn’t look too friendly, and Lessiam certainly wanted no confrontations before he got his bearings. He figured he’d better move out and began to climb up the incline, progressing slowly. With each new step, energy flowed into his body. “That’s odd,” he thought.
After some twenty minutes he reached the peak. He had not come across the lad again. Only the occasional explosion could now be heard of the sounds far below. He sat and took in the surroundings. Two sets of men were working on their rock projects. The first group he’d noticed was still off in the distance, while the second group was now setting up at the foot of a nearby mountain. He looked down and, some thirty yards below, he saw the lad who’d run from him earlier. “Maybe he’d have some answers.” Lessiam hoped to himself. He leapt off of the peak into the air; there was no breeze. He flew down to just in front of where the lad crouched, trembling. He lit on the rough rock as quietly as he could manage in his still-clumsy condition. He now stood silently and observed the fellow. Again he was crying deep, heaving sobs, with his head pushed down towards his chest and knees.
Lessiam inched closer, “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“Aiiihhhh!!!” The lad leapt up and backed against the rock wall behind him, pinned in. He brushed the tears away as his mouth clenched into a firm and resolute line. Lessiam could nearly read his thoughts. He would face his end with honor and dignity.
“Why are you so scared?” Lessiam asked.
“Don’t mess around with me,” the lad said. “If you’re going to kill or eat me, then do it now and get it over with! I don’t care anymore anyway!”
Lessiam snorted in amusement, “Eat you! That’s insane! I don’t think I’d like humans at all—for food. Not to mention, most dragons don’t kill other creatures except in defense. You should know that!”
That broke through the lad’s solid facade. Hatred spilled into his face as his lips spat forth one word, “Liar!” Then, with fists in the air, he ran forward at Lessiam as if to attack.
Lessiam turned to one side to let the boy pass wildly by. The lad hadn’t made it ten feet when he stumbled and fell. He quickly rolled to his feet and, seeing his chance to escape, he kept going. He looked as if he was going to run all the way down the mountainside.
“Well, that didn’t go too well”, Lessiam thought. This just made matters worse. Where was his family, his home, Krigsly? What was this lad talking about? Eating and killing humans! Not him—not his kind. Some bad things were afoot.
Watching from a new perch, some thirty minutes later, Lessiam saw the lad slow to a ragged walk. Seeing that the boy was struggling to stay on his feet, Lessiam wondered how long he would be able to go on. Ten minutes later he saw the lad stagger; he had reached the ground in front of the mountain now.
Lessiam slowly began to rise. He had to find answers somewhere. Sitting here watching peculiar humans do peculiar things wasn’t getting him anywhere.
“I know!” he concluded, “I will fly to the town of Lexiter.” He knew his grandfather would know what he should do. He began to open his wings, which had been folded at his back. They still felt downright crusty!
It was then that he noticed three riders some three hundred yards from the foot of the mountain. The hoofs of their steeds pounded the earth in a rapid rhythm, as they closed in on the hapless lad. One rider looked like the man with the whip that Lessiam had seen earlier —only this man had a sword out. The other two riders held maces with spikes. This looked like more trouble than this boy would survive.
The lad noticed the riders, a new look of terror flashing across his young face. He tried to run but was obviously too exhausted to have any real chance of escape. The best he could manage was a frantic limp back towards the mountain. Lessiam had scared the lad off and so felt somewhat responsible for his predicament. He’d better intervene.