Talos and Cyrus

Chapter 3 - Wretched Recollections

It was the first time he saw the mountain in all of its glory. Before, Cyrus only caught glimpses of its black peak above the tall trees of Aeredale. Now, Cyrus beheld the mountain in its breath-taking stupor. The traders that traveled throughout Aeredale commonly called it Drakone Mountain or very simply, Drak. To Cyrus, the way they described it was near perfection.

He first saw it when he was at least three leagues from home. From what Cyrus could see, it was barren, rocky, and a dark ebony in color. No trees resided on the tremendous mountain and he doubted it could sustain any remote forms of life. If the stories were true, it was far larger than any mountain known to Man, even dwarfing the great ones surrounding Paelford. Even though it was thousands of leagues away, Cyrus could feel the gloomy shadow the black mountain cast blanketed upon the land. Dread started to formulate within his core. When the storytellers of Threlkeld would occasionally pass through Aeredale, they would always tell of the mountain and the sorrow and desolation it brought upon Crasmere. A gargantuan region isolated from neighboring lands by impassable mountain ranges and a vast ocean, Crasmere was home to Cyrus and countless others, shared by thousands of men, women, and children, and once, to the legendary, now extinct race of Dragon.

The dragons were no doubt a mighty and fearsome species. They inhabited Drak and ate like kings when the mountain was green with life. Men did not fear them, for they knew the dragons would never cross over the border, a tall wall of smaller mountains surrounding Drak, lest they dare harm their pride. The two races lived in peace and isolation from one another and all was well for a time.

Time grew darker.

Five hundred years ago, the plants on Drak began to wither away and die, and with them, the animals the dragons fed on. Soon enough, the beastly race grew hungry and desperate for any morsel of food available and they began to turn against each other. Many fled the dying mountain, taking refuge on the open, vulnerable ground and soon succumbing to the gnawing starvation that tore apart their stomachs.

The King of Drak, Minos the Deplorable, took immediate action. Said to have hide as white as the moon and a mind greater than any living Man, he ordered the fastest of his messengers to travel to the very gates of Paelford, Crasmere's capital city and the King's home. Minos' message was short,

'Feed us or we'll find other means to satisfy our hunger.'

King Gerard, first of his name, sat on the golden throne of Paelford when the messengers arrived and he gave a reply at that very instant. He refused the Dragon King's request. It was impossible for him to feed such a vast amount of starving souls. Feeding Crasmere and keeping it prosperous was strenuous and difficult enough, he simply could not afford to feed thousands of dragons. King Gerard sent the dragon messengers away with words of apology and utmost remorse as well as an explanation as to why he couldn't possibly help.

Minos was enraged upon receiving the news. The Dragon King ordered the chief of his army, Neit, to attack the closest villages beyond the mountains surrounding Drak. And so they did.

The dragons rained death upon the unsuspecting villages, tearing apart houses and murdering anything that had a beating heart. They scavenged the carcasses of the dead farm animals and Men alike. Soon, their bellies were full and they flew home victorious. Minos had ignited the war.

News of the terror upon the villages reached the ears of King Gerard as quickly as an elkorse could gallop. The King of Man was furious and in his outrage, he ordered an attack on Drak and all those who reside within it. His troops marched the next fortnight, flying banners with the sigil of Paelford upon them, the head of a mighty elkorse emblazoned on a violet background. They didn't make it as far as they had hoped.

Minos was intelligent; far more cunning than King Gerard. The Dragon King had already predicted what the King of Man's actions were to be and he sent a massive fleet of hungry dragons to uproot Hell itself inside of Paelford walls. King Gerard's army was ambushed within their city, barely able to shout cries of warning before the dragons struck them down. Minos was among the fleet, hidden away in the mess of wings and claws. Not a soul noticed when he slipped away through the ajar wooden doors of Paelford castle.

King Gerard was already waiting for him.

Lounging on his throne of gold and a silver longsword resting on his lap, the King challenged Minos to a fair duel. He taunted the dragon where he sat, never showing an ounce of fear or hesitation.

Minos was the first to strike. The Dragon King lunged for Gerard but the King of Crasmere ducked out of reach of his massive white maw, slashing it with the tip of his sword. The two kings fought a bloody battle. Neither bested the other, grappling for an advantage, something to aid them, anything at all in the battle. By a stroke of sheer luck, King Gerard gained an advantage. He ripped his silver sword through Minos' immense wings, ripping their thin membranes. According to legend, The Dragon King's pained roars were so ear-splitting, they deafened all within Paelford and the surrounding mountains. Man and Dragon alike stopped to watch the duel between their kings in abrupt and still silence.

The battle was storied to be several hours long, finally ending in a reluctant draw. Both Minos and Gerard were near death from exhaustion. They both swore a temporary peace and, when King Gerard's back was turned, Minos the Deplorable sank his dagger-like teeth into the man's chest, piercing his heart. King Gerard fell that day, along with the spirits of all those he led. His army instantly erupted in a mad fury and they slashed at the dragons and let loose their arrows upon them. Minos let out a single roar, his mouth red with the King's blood, and bounded out of the city, flapping his slashed wings all the while. Close behind, his army followed, unperturbed by the Men flinging their swords at them and elkorses charging at their feet. No matter how hard he tried, however, Minos could not take flight. King Gerard had ripped The Dragon King's wings to oblivion, rendering them useless. Minos was blinded by hatred and rage. He slew any in his path, be it Dragon or Man, seething from his newly acquired disability. Vowing to destroy Man, the white dragon ordered an attack on the entirety of Crasmere and he himself returned to Drak to fester in his humiliation.

War was bloody.

Men grieved and wept for their slewn king and dragons fought to destroy the race that shamed theirs. Villages burned and loyalties wore thin. Earls turned their backs on those suffering below them and many fled, soon getting lost among the wilds of Crasmere.

The dragons took the high ground in the midst of war. They were undeniably stronger than any man and were soon able to overpower King Gerard's army of countless driven men and women. The dragons nearly declared victory when suddenly, their confidence in their invincibility plummeted. Lethe, the only daughter of Minos, was struck down in her sleep by a lowly peasant of a man, armed only with a blunt dagger. When the dragons found her corpse, her throat was slashed open and her chest was horribly mutilated. The man who killed her had cut out her heart and presented it to King Gerard's armies. Their spirits soared to the very heavens. Men cheered and charged the dragons, slaying them as easily as they would a hog. The disheartened dragons retaliated but the might of the men was too powerful. Blood tainted and stained the ground of Crasmere, roars and screams shattered the clear sky. Many dragons fell and many fled back to Drak, cowering in their pathetic fear. Their corpses littered the ground by the hundreds. Nothing was heard of Minos after the battle, many assumed he died due to his crippling wounds.

The dragons were defeated.

Drak still stands, black and tall, as a constant reminder of the day Man and Dragon clashed, claw and blade. Many say the dragons died out due to starvation and lack of a strong leader. Others say they live on, not daring to trespass back into Crasmere. Only a select few say the dragons still live within our mountainous walls, living out the rest of their days in the very place their ancestors fell. The thought sent a fearful tremor down Cyrus' spine but he instantly pushed the thought from his mind. If that were even the least bit true, someone would have already seen a dragon. They weren't exactly small creatures.