Time of Dragons

Time, they say time heals all wounds. The time they say it is the force that keeps on going with brute power. We are all bound to experience as the time ticks by. Little can we do to change, we all age and die.  At least for most of us, that is, in this world of ancient rites and magic some are fighting back against the tooth of time. For most of us we never see such dark magic, only the choice few are able to live forever. I am Evan; my house is just an on the brink of being swallowed by the mighty sea.

I live in a fishing town where the man works hard for the catch, and we don't know of dark powers and magic. A few years back a wizard came to this village, claiming to turn water into wine. We sent him running for his money as we kicked him out with a sword through his heart. The townspeople are nervous about magic, they cannot understand the beauty of it, and something that they cannot explain must die. It is tragic for those who try to get along with magic; it is tragic for me.

For you see, I wanted to be a wizard for all my life. I tried to understand the powers at play, but I was caught, and my books were burned to ash. Dragons and wizards bring bad luck they say. They have the misconception every wizard has a dragon as a companion. An illusion sadly not true, of course, every wizard dreams of a dragon as a familiar or even as a tutor. But dragons are hard to come by, most dragons avoid humans as much as possible. Only those who can climb the highest mountains are deemed worthy to the dragons to be tutored by them. I often dream about climbing the mountain that trapped out little village against the sea. But no dragon was spotted in the peaks. I was doomed, doomed to a life a life of simplicity here in the town while I wanted so much more.

You should be careful what you wish for. What started as a typical night for me turned out to put my world upside down like nothing I'd experienced before.  Here I was, alone in the forest experimenting with magic on the risk of my own life. Honestly, I did not care less because the magic made me feel alive. I knew that I had to seek help from a wizard some time since I could not do anything but to let some water float above the surface. I want to do that still some day, but I never was able to leave or knew where the colleges of wizards were.

The night was quiet, and the sky was filled with stars and nebula,  I was trying to create a perfect sphere of water as the most awkward and strangest thing happened to me. Because suddenly with a burst of a purple-blue light the ball of water light up. The light was almost blinding to me; I had to close my eyes and did not see what was going on. It could not be my magic; it couldn't be. I was in full control before it happened and now it drains my energy. I tried to dim the light with all my might, but I could not do it, it felt as something appeared in the ball I created, and it was draining my energy.

Next thing I knew I was laying down with my face in the dirt, the crimson sun was already rising above the sea, and the fisherman were leaving. I had only an hour before I had to open up my shop, 'Evan's rare furniture' I called it. I admit I was not making any real profit, but it sustained the costs of my house and the food. I reached out my hands to stand up until my right hand bumped into something smooth and warm. I looked to my side to see an egg laying in the grass. The shell was the same purple-blue as the light that I remembered seeing. “did I make that?"  I thought to myself as I carefully took the egg and inspected it. The egg was the size of a big tuna and too heavy to pick up with one hand.

I remembered at that time I saw something written in the book. I flipped it open and saw the shape and size of the egg in the chapter of 'rare creatures'. I studied the page as I read that the egg belonged to a dragon, the page intrigued me, could this really be a dragon egg? I softly knocked on the shell; the egg made a sharp sound as if the creature inside protested.

“Dragon eggs are rare to be found; the parents guard the egg with aggression. Anyone who tries to come to close to a nest will meet sudden doom. But an egg is never found that easy; dragon eggs are well hidden within cave systems deep in dragon territory and high in the mountains. Most dragons warn travellers who enter a dragon's terrarium that they should not wonder of the paths and not climb the highlands.

Dragons are known to adopt eggs from other parents but in utter and most rare occasions when the last of the parents is dying from being attacked. The dragon will send with the last breath and power the egg he or she deems the strongest towards the nearest  inelegance lifeform that controls magic, under the condition that the lifeform is not the attacker himself."

I could not believe my own eyes; I was sent a dragon egg. But no dragons were around, nor I heard a power struggle of any kind. My mind was overfilling with questions, almost to forgetting that I had to open the shop in a few. By some strange force, I managed to pick up the book and egg to make my way towards my house. It was a close call; I was nearly caught by one of the towns guards if they saw me with a dragon's egg and the magic book I would be a dead man. I hid the book in the usual place, behind a clause with books about woodworking. The egg I had no place for, I put it in a steel locker that was standing behind the counter. When I was done, I could examine it more carefully.

Woodwork frequently numbed my mind after magic, The rhythmite ticking of the mallet on the tools. The scent of fresh cut wood. A figurehead for one of the bigger sailing boats, made from oak wood for a change. The design was a woman by tradition, tradition. My mind zoned off again; tradition is something that binds and holds back. It blinds and creates fear. My hands stopped working; the tools dropped on the bench. “Damn me by the gods" I swore to myself, I have to pull myself together. Yet at the back of my mind, that dragon egg was knocking, begging to be unruffled.

“tools getting heavy Evan?" In my thoughts, I have not even seen or heard someone entering the building. A large tall guy with many painful tattoos on his arms came stood in the opening of the door. Walter was one of the fishermen who worked in port, in his well-trained hands he carried a wooden basket of fish on winter's ice. “Walter" I smiled not wanting to appear off guard. “Come to bring my weeks' worth of Fish? How were the waters?" Walter carried the fish to my bench; he admired the craftsmanship of my project. “I should get one of these when I have the coin" his finger stroked along the rough carved wooden shape. “It sometimes looks like you work magic on the wood." “I would do it if I were able" I refrained from those words, some things are best untold. “We both know it runs in my veins Walter, how much for the fish?"

“Two golden coins." He pulled a big grin across his face. “Two golden coins? You became expensive!" I complained, getting the coins from the strongbox. “It has been a hard winter, and the fish are not biting." With displeasure, I tossed him the two coins. “Wish I could say that with trees. But since half the mountain is covered with those buggers…" Walter gazed at me, something wondering. “Well, you do seem to return empty from your forest missions of late" He pointed at the burn marks on my hand. “Or don't you remember how you got those" It's funny how a detail that you always see on your own body, gets ignored until someone points it out for you. Well, when you are actively trying to hide the scars from your mind that is. “Yes, last time I checked it was the village elders, with a hot iron rod." My mouth became acid just to think of it. “You did it to yourself boy" Walter gave me an intense, harsh look. “Magic belongs to God, not to mortals." I rolled my eyes and waved him off. I have had enough of this holy crusade talk.

I deemed myself lucky that, my business requires me not to speak to a lot of people. I could just work away on the wood, alone with my own thoughts. Even when those thoughts were what was worrying me. What about the egg? Would it hatch, would it grow? How am I going to get a book about racing dragons in this forsaken place? Just before I wanted to clean up in the last hours of daylight, the shop door opened again. “Evan! You got to see this!" The figure was to fast gone for me to see whom it was. With a sign, I took my long leather coat and walked to the village centre. Whatever centre we had, it was a stone paved place in front of a small church. I could see the village elder with a strange man in white armour. The armour was dented and used all over, his metal well tested. Besides the knight was a large leather bag, wet from the inside with something. Something that quickly started to infest my nose with the scent of death. My pupils dilatated, instincts sharpened. This knight was bad news, No matter what. My guts just knew it.

Not to be spotted by the knights I retreated to a corner of the flood of villagers. “show them, what you showed me, knight!" The oldest of the village elder said. He spoke rarely, I did not even know his name, doubt anyone did. So this was either going to be extraordinarily good or bad.  I did already know which of the two. The bag was opened, revealing two horns, That could not be a good start, Soon scales and… I closed my eyes, the puzzle has been solved in front of my eyes. There in the bag housed a purple dragon's head. “You have been freed of dragon curses!" The knight shouted, he was followed by a round of applause. My claps were slow, hollow. How could I have not checked if the mountains had a dragon! I could have helped, I could have…died. If that dragon was no match for a knight, doubt I would be of much use. I could do little but to stand and watch.

Life had some certainties; The Sun was one of them and with no light comes no more gather. I rushed back to my own house. I had to get this egg out of here, no question about it. In the candle light, I risked gathering the books about magic I could collect. Most of them from far off traders who never been in the town before. Only one book spoke about dragons, and that was in one vague chapter. Dragons never leave eggs alone, dragons only rarely teleport eggs to magical creatures. That I already knew, but what about…raising dragon eggs. I searched through the pages, but nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Then I saw it, on the final page of the chapter about dragons. A drawing the size of a page of a dragon who guarded the eggs, they were all heated by a small fire. “Warmth?" Pieces of the puzzle started to fall together, scrolling back. How would an egg live if it was teleported? Not that the book gave me answers, but it stated that some eggs lived for a decade before hatching into a dragon. It made my mind at rest, I did not have haste, but just to be sure. I should build a warm, sturdy box for the egg. And thus is started to shape it, an octagonal box with a lid. Every strike of my charcoal bit made a new refined line. With the design done, I called it a night. There is nothing much gained from staying up late. Not when you want to practice magic in the morning.

Daybreak woke me up, as usual, the first rays of the sun, Cheese, and Bread were the breakfast before going off into the forest. I just needed a little glance at my drawing of last night, To know what wood was best, oak. With an axe in one hand and my back with magical books in the other, I left the building. My nerves were higher than usual, normally I wouldn't have. Maybe it was that I now had an egg to carry for, or maybe it was the hunter. “Morning" I called to those who surpassed me, I had to keep acting normally, else I am sure to be made out.

With the warm sun on my back, I went deeper into the forest, deep enough be withdrawn from any listening ear and prying eye. I build a small cabin not far into the woods, Mostly to keep my tools close to where I need to cut my wood, behind the cabin a nice pound was the perfect place for magic training. I put the book front of me and continued with the pages, water manipulation. Water was accessible, and yet hard. It was not heavy to lift, not as heavy as wood or metal. Yet it is hard to control, it always tried to flow somewhere. Opposed to a stick that only wanted to point down to the earth. If you latch your magic on one end of the stick, the stick would just topple down and keep afloat. But water, water needed constant and equal attention. My magical training book spoke that it was the perfect way to test your skill, to be sure that you were ready for more advanced magic.

So my mind calmed, and my magic latched out again to grasp the water in the pound. A rough sphere shaped volume of water, perhaps the size of my head, arose from the surface of the water. I tried to do what I could with my hands to make the ball appear smooth, yet no motion of my hands helped. Magic, is a game of mind, a game that I was not getting under control. I started to pull more and more magic, pouring it in the ball. Yesterday I could do this and today, nothing! What was going on? More magic that must be the only solution. But it helped none. I looked at how the ball of water started to boil, did I do that? Simmer and boil, until steaming hot water exploded everywhere. I covered my face not to get burned. The hot water splashed everywhere and thus also my hands. I waited for the pain.

But it never came. My hands lowered, steaming from the hot water evaporating in the cold morning air. The naked skin of my hands showed nothing, no burns, no scars. Luckily trough, how could I explained such burns. “How…" I wondered myself. How could this have happened? Yes if I would know. Stumbled I looked at the book in front of me, enough magic, that's clear. I placed my book in the leather back. Tools, I needed some beautiful oak wood. I knew a tree that would do, about three paces away from the hut. It was a young tree, making it easy to work with and not as big a job to cut it into blanks. I started with cutting it down, my axe making pulp of the wood. With the tree down I cut it into logs, I only needed one log for all the planks. I made quick work of the tree, it was not even noon, and I had the wood I needed for the egg case.

On my way back I passed the knight, he looked at me with threatening eyes before stopping. “You stink of magic," He said in a low grumbling voice. “Magic?" I asked, being sure that I heard it right. I turned around to face the knight. I hope my face did not betray my fears. “Evan! Oh yes, we caught him doing magic a few years ago." Walter overheard the knight too. “But we took care of that." I showed the burn marks on my hand to convince the knight. He snorted, “Some burn marks, I would have burned him alive" Well that was a pleasant how do you do. I could do little about it, besides making myself suspicious. “Glad, I had the town's elder to judge and punish," I said hastily before going away, I did not want to be around that monster for longer, not when he 'smelled' magic? That could be quite a complication. What about the dragon's egg. Could he smell it too? Was he looking for it? My heart was jumping in my chest, I had to calm down, first things first, keeping the egg warm.