The Dragon's Birth
Genre: Fantasy short story (no romance)
The Dragon's Birth is a prequel to the fantasy novel I wrote a few years ago. That novel may or may not one day see publication, but in the meantime, there is this little story. It started out with the title The Dragon Key, but underwent a slight title change.
From the “back":
Two young men stumble into an ancient secret that changes their world.
When young King Darok of Coraji uncovers an ancient dragon key, he wonders if the dragon legends about his family are true. With the help of his friend, K'ni, Darok endeavors to discover the truth. Is it possible the dragon blood of the royal family is more than a myth?
Here's an excerpt from the first edited draft. Enjoy!
From the “back":
Two young men stumble into an ancient secret that changes their world.
When young King Darok of Coraji uncovers an ancient dragon key, he wonders if the dragon legends about his family are true. With the help of his friend, K'ni, Darok endeavors to discover the truth. Is it possible the dragon blood of the royal family is more than a myth?
Here's an excerpt from the first edited draft. Enjoy!
Best friends...
Darok's brain vibrated through his skull. His helm was surely dented and his ears would never stop ringing. K'ni would pay for the injury but first, Darok had to make his stomach return to its rightful place in his middle.
“You should have seen that, Darok! You've grown soft in your time away from Coraji!”
Darok growled at his friend and lunged. K'ni was bigger and stronger but Darok was faster. He caught the other boy off guard and disarmed him, nearly running him through in the process. K'ni's broadsword flew through the air to land several feet away in the forest undergrowth.
K'ni removed his helm, golden, sweat-drenched locks tumbling over his shoulders. “Kothfire, Darok! What in hell was that?”
Darok removed his own helm, his shorter, jet black hair no less slicked with sweat. He grimaced. “Sorry. I don't know what came over me.” He sheathed his sword and moved off to retrieve his friend's blade.
K'ni snorted, following in the younger man's wake. “This is not the first time you tried to kill me, you rotter. I thought you were over Ingrid.”
It was Darok's turn to snort. “I don't even remember what she looks like,” he lied.
Of course he remembered. Mischievous green eyes, riotous red curls, pouting lips, long legs, and breasts that begged for a man's touch. Her beauty was unmatched in Coraji. Her low birth made her all the more desirable to a boy on the cusp of manhood.
Ingrid was the tavern wench who had all the men of Coraji slavering like rabid dogs, fighting each other for a chance to win her favors. Her particularity was well known. Even Darok, young king that he was, had been unable to breach her defenses. K'ni, however, with his long flowing curls and godlike countenance, had merely crooked his finger and Ingrid's charms were his to enjoy at his leisure. Just when he'd thought being king might have its advantages, Darok realized it was just a title.
If K'ni thought Darok lied, he made no mention of it. He changed the subject entirely for which Darok could only be grateful.
“Have you heard the rumors?”
“Which ones?” Darok asked. He reached the brambles and undergrowth and began pulling them away in search of the missing sword. “Ouch.”
K'ni joined him, adding his efforts to the search but not his exclamations of discomfort. “There is suspicion of Tech Order activity in the northern forest. My father's servants spoke of odd lights and unexplainable visions in the north.”
“They're servants,” Darok scoffed with all of the kingly superiority he'd learned at his sister's knee. “They gossip. When there is no gossip, they invent it.”
K'ni was shaking his head before the final words left Darok's mouth. “It is no mere gossip, Darok. I've seen the lights myself.” He pulled at a tangle of vines, cursing at the stubborn mass. “Darok?”
Darok wasn't listening. He knelt on the forest floor, his eyes trained on something that he didn't understand. He reached for it, an odd voice in his head urging him onward.
K'ni dropped down beside him, his chainmaille rattling in the stillness of the forest. “A key? For what?”
“How should I know?” Darok snapped, unnerved.
“What do you suppose it opens?”
“I think it may be a problem,” Darok said, each word released slowly as his thoughts tried to process the item in his hands.
It looked like any old key lost or abandoned. He brushed away a tiny insect, his thumb sliding over a layer of grime to reveal a shiny silver dragon head. And in the dragon's eye was a blue stone that matched Darok's eyes for color and clarity.
The young King of Coraji shivered in the warm afternoon air. His mind filled with excitement and he jumped to his feet, intent on discovering the key's lock. K'ni's steadying hand on his arm stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
The unease in K'ni's voice broke through Darok's obsessive desire to find the lock. K'ni was usually the one to rush headlong into mischief, dragging the protesting Darok along the way. That their roles had reversed was odd enough to make Darok think twice about his urge to solve the mystery.
“We must return to the castle,” the young king temporized. “Wenda will begin to wonder about us.”
K'ni breathed a sigh, the relief so apparent that Darok laughed. “Did you believe I would run off on a wild goose chase, K'ni?”
“I did wonder,” the older boy admitted, his fair face creasing in amusement.
Darok playfully punched K'ni in the head and ran for the castle, his slower friend trying desperately to catch him.
“You should have seen that, Darok! You've grown soft in your time away from Coraji!”
Darok growled at his friend and lunged. K'ni was bigger and stronger but Darok was faster. He caught the other boy off guard and disarmed him, nearly running him through in the process. K'ni's broadsword flew through the air to land several feet away in the forest undergrowth.
K'ni removed his helm, golden, sweat-drenched locks tumbling over his shoulders. “Kothfire, Darok! What in hell was that?”
Darok removed his own helm, his shorter, jet black hair no less slicked with sweat. He grimaced. “Sorry. I don't know what came over me.” He sheathed his sword and moved off to retrieve his friend's blade.
K'ni snorted, following in the younger man's wake. “This is not the first time you tried to kill me, you rotter. I thought you were over Ingrid.”
It was Darok's turn to snort. “I don't even remember what she looks like,” he lied.
Of course he remembered. Mischievous green eyes, riotous red curls, pouting lips, long legs, and breasts that begged for a man's touch. Her beauty was unmatched in Coraji. Her low birth made her all the more desirable to a boy on the cusp of manhood.
Ingrid was the tavern wench who had all the men of Coraji slavering like rabid dogs, fighting each other for a chance to win her favors. Her particularity was well known. Even Darok, young king that he was, had been unable to breach her defenses. K'ni, however, with his long flowing curls and godlike countenance, had merely crooked his finger and Ingrid's charms were his to enjoy at his leisure. Just when he'd thought being king might have its advantages, Darok realized it was just a title.
If K'ni thought Darok lied, he made no mention of it. He changed the subject entirely for which Darok could only be grateful.
“Have you heard the rumors?”
“Which ones?” Darok asked. He reached the brambles and undergrowth and began pulling them away in search of the missing sword. “Ouch.”
K'ni joined him, adding his efforts to the search but not his exclamations of discomfort. “There is suspicion of Tech Order activity in the northern forest. My father's servants spoke of odd lights and unexplainable visions in the north.”
“They're servants,” Darok scoffed with all of the kingly superiority he'd learned at his sister's knee. “They gossip. When there is no gossip, they invent it.”
K'ni was shaking his head before the final words left Darok's mouth. “It is no mere gossip, Darok. I've seen the lights myself.” He pulled at a tangle of vines, cursing at the stubborn mass. “Darok?”
Darok wasn't listening. He knelt on the forest floor, his eyes trained on something that he didn't understand. He reached for it, an odd voice in his head urging him onward.
K'ni dropped down beside him, his chainmaille rattling in the stillness of the forest. “A key? For what?”
“How should I know?” Darok snapped, unnerved.
“What do you suppose it opens?”
“I think it may be a problem,” Darok said, each word released slowly as his thoughts tried to process the item in his hands.
It looked like any old key lost or abandoned. He brushed away a tiny insect, his thumb sliding over a layer of grime to reveal a shiny silver dragon head. And in the dragon's eye was a blue stone that matched Darok's eyes for color and clarity.
The young King of Coraji shivered in the warm afternoon air. His mind filled with excitement and he jumped to his feet, intent on discovering the key's lock. K'ni's steadying hand on his arm stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
The unease in K'ni's voice broke through Darok's obsessive desire to find the lock. K'ni was usually the one to rush headlong into mischief, dragging the protesting Darok along the way. That their roles had reversed was odd enough to make Darok think twice about his urge to solve the mystery.
“We must return to the castle,” the young king temporized. “Wenda will begin to wonder about us.”
K'ni breathed a sigh, the relief so apparent that Darok laughed. “Did you believe I would run off on a wild goose chase, K'ni?”
“I did wonder,” the older boy admitted, his fair face creasing in amusement.
Darok playfully punched K'ni in the head and ran for the castle, his slower friend trying desperately to catch him.
Want to read more?
This short story is now available for download in the following e-stores:
eBook only:
Smashwords $0.99
Amazon $0.99
B&N $0.99
Kobo $0.99
Apple $0.99
eBook only:
Smashwords $0.99
Amazon $0.99
B&N $0.99
Kobo $0.99
Apple $0.99
