Lords of Earth and Sky

A short story/creation myth about the rise and fall of dragons. Let me know what you think, because I would love feedback on the good the bad and the ugly. Confusing parts? Leave a comment! Thanks!

Lords of Earth and Sky

My people were once a noble race, a kindly sort, but were brought to anger and destruction by the acts of man or fate. That is not to say, of course, that there were never so-called bad eggs among our lot– that I shall yet demonstrate–, but it would be folly to suggest that any significant portion of the world’s evil was, at least at first, bottled up within our ‘draconian’ hearts. We dragons were a proud race, and though, as time passed, my brothers grew more and more prone to fits of jealousy and rage, we were, at least to begin with, a peaceful sort. Indeed, perhaps more so than any other creatures to roam this earth, we were a happy people, content with our simple pleasures. I was young and strong, back before the wars. Oh, how my scales gleamed, sapphires against the emerald seas, and my wings beat in powerful strokes that carried me high above the clouds to airy roosts. Indeed, our early days were ones of magic and wonder and peace, but then something changed inside of us. Then the world changed around us. And then we lost the magic.

I, Marak, am the last of my kind, and I alone remain to tell our tale, of dragons, the Lords of Fire and Earth and Sky.

Before the world was, there was Ka, one of the Great Ones. I must insist here on pausing for a moment to remind you that while most dragons were good and kind, there yet existed a few exceptions, Ka of course being a particularly foul one of these. Ka was the largest of all of the dragons and, for that matter, one of the cruelest as well, matched only by Bel the Infernal, whose name I hesitate to even mention. His tale, however is yet to come, and Ka’s is now before us. A creature of unmatched ferocity, Ka lorded over his realm mercilessly, consuming planets, stars– all that he encountered– and casting over the all within his dominion a shroud of night. The black void of his presence hung over us perpetually, and yet many years passed before the Founders, the other Great Ones, decided Ka’s terror must come to an end. Having so decided, they gathered the dragons from across the Great Expanse to wage war against the Darkness.

The Great Ones gathered the light from the midst of the darkness and placed a radiant pool of light within the sky to banish Night. The new sun’s brilliant rays cut through the darkness, and Ka howled in agony as he turned his face away from heaven’s eye. His iridescent scales glimmered in the light so that even the moon could not help but stare longingly. The White Dragon Aio lunged forward toward the pining moon and bit from it a massive chunk so that night’s lantern became but a thin crescent against the black canvas of the solemn sky. Aio’s mouth blazed with an iridescent glow as she chewed and chewed, and then from her jaws surged forth a shimmering stream of icy water, flowing down upon her brother Ka. The flood enveloped Ka, who, once more roaring in pain, found himself unable to move for the cold that now enveloped his being. His yellowed eyes spun in frenzied terror as the oldest of the Great Ones, Raiel, cupped a shooting star in His claws and, breathing it into celestial flame, sent it soaring into the Dark One’s heart. Ka’s eyes blazed forth with eternal fire, and his body heaved and twisted in grotesque jerks. At last, Ka’s spirit fled, and the heavens stood in silence as the Great One fell. His body became the continents and his spiny head and back the mountains of the earth. The waters rushed around him and from his vile mouth belched forth great gouts of fiery blood that rolled into the oceans and, quenched by the icy soup, formed the islands of the sea. Raiel whispered to the dust, and from it stepped beasts of every kind; fair Aio sang to the seas, and a warm mist watered the land, bringing forth plants of myriad variety.

Ka the dragon was dead. The stars sang for sorrow at the fall of the Great One, their once Beloved, and my people watered the heavens with their tears. The moon shed bitter tears that day as well, but not for Ka– rather, for a broken heart. Though in time her wounds healed and she grew to a brilliant disc once more, yet night’s sentinel waxes and wanes in remembrance of her sorrows and wanders through the melancholy sky for all time, drawing forth the seas in great heaving sighs that humans call the tides.

The Great Ones willed that the dragons inhabit the earth. We at that time had neither tamed Fire nor harnessed the Winds, but our predecessors built great cities into the mountains, carving magnificent halls into the haughty cliffs and fashioning twisting tunnels through the darkish depths. There within our stony havens we found our homes, and there, for a time, we were content. Soon, however, the darkness grew tiresome and the caverns that had once rung with laughter fell silent; we were a people of Light and yet had we naught to illuminate our splendid homes or to light our path through the endless depths. And what would light our souls?

The Winds had drifted often through our halls, whispering of the earth’s core, of the burning heart of Ka, from whose bosom were born the Embers, the spirits of Fire. It should be noted that the Winds are not particularly known for their honesty, but between their lies they speak of hidden truths, of treasures untold and tales undiscovered. Thus the Elders, entrusting our fate to the will of the Great Ones, appointed one Prometheus to lead a host of dragons down into the belly of the earth, there to claim for dragonkind the gift of fire. The Embers, however, were a wicked breed, fed by anger and spite, and our victory would come at a dear price.

Down into the volcano the noble seekers ventured against their fiery foes, trusting only in the strength of their shining scales and obsidian claws. The Fire Spirits, waiting in silent anticipation, fell upon the brave band in the heart of the volcano and spat mouthfuls of molten muck into the dragon ranks. A great many fell in the first, fiery embrace, but proud Prometheus, rallying the dragons about him, led his forces in a charge that shattered the Embers’ hellish ranks and drove them back into the fiery tunnels of the deep. One arose among the Embers, calling to his kin to rally and return the blow, and the enemy swept forward in a ravenous wall of flame as if a single burning entity. Prometheus, his scales gleaming blood red in the crimson glow, opened wide his maw and, with a mighty roar, consumed in one great gulp the Ember King. As the advancing embers halted, Prometheus breathed out in fiery satisfaction, and from his lips issued forth a river of flames. The Embers turned and fled, but the Fire Tongued Serpent had already tasted of his enemy’s fear. Now possessed with fiery confidence and burning rage, Prometheus inhaled another ten Embers and, in the great gust that followed, robbed all the others of their flame. The slighted spirits slunk off in silent shame, and to this day, the Embers, deprived of their Fire, sulk enviously in the ashes of our victory, returning to life only briefly at the touch of breath.

A great cheer went up among the conquering clan, and as the survivors gazed admiringly upon their leader brave, the lost dead were forgotten in an instant. There, within the mountain’s hellish heart, Prometheus breathed fire into his fellows’ souls, and there, within each of them was born an infernal spark.

The heroes’ return was met with feasting and great celebration, and our tunnels glowed with Fire and Life. Our paths now illuminated, we discovered in the depths much of that which the humans call iron, gold, and silver but which we know to be only the shining scales of fallen Ka. The Great Ones instructed us in refining these metals, teaching us to drive out the impurities with flame, and our artisans quickly learned to fashion artifacts of great power and beauty, an art which we later passed on to Man. The caverns of the deep sang oft with the clear, bright ring of the hammer against the anvil, this happy chorus echoing the contentment and prosperity that we enjoyed in the pleasant palaces of our homes. These were, alas, simpler times.

Some, of course, didn’t believe the myths. They said that the Fire had dwelt always within our dragon hearts, that it had been born within us from the very beginning. But I remember when I received the Fire. I recall the fervor that burned within my veins, the hunger that was born within me. I knew not then what would sate this fiery appetite, but I saw that when we took in the Flame, it began to grow within us, began to possess our very souls.

I now pause briefly to tell of Mankind and his genesis. In the land of Edom, nestled among the foothills of the southeastern ranges, there, in the Valley of Ka’s mouth, Man sprung up from the scattered teeth of the Fallen Great One. Man was, like my people, a noble race. There in Edom he built great cities and tamed the earth to bring forth fruit. Man drove out the Woodland Spirits, claiming for himself the bounties of the forests, and mastered the rivers and seas, building boats to bridge great distances and carry him to far-off lands. We within Man the spark of Mind, for the Great Ones had breathed into him intelligence and spirit. He was, perhaps, at times concerned to excess with telestial treasures and sometimes boasted of his many conquests, but those were little vices in our eyes, excusable in beings of such great potential.

While the humans at times squabbled amongst themselves, we dragons tried to distance ourselves from the conflict and thus for the most part dwelt peacefully. There had been tell, of course, of a certain few of our kind who took to abducting human princesses and razing villages, but from whence that madness was born, I could only then surmise. We generally admired and respected Mankind, though. To their noblest kings and champions we made offerings of resplendent shields and shining swords, crafted after the workmanship of men but imbued with dragon fire and ancient magic. Something of the Fire must have penetrated Man’s heart, though, for soon great fortresses rose up from the earth and conflict overtook the land. Death dwelt ever upon the bloodied fields where princes and lords made glad exchange of youth’s vigor for lifeless wealth, and men, desperate in their conflicts one with another, demanded of us more and more, all this in futility. “Swords,” they said, “that we might end these wars at last. “Swords,” they said, “that peace might once more reign upon these lands.”

The Winds came often howling through our caves, chuckling at our plight. My people grew tired of the taunts though, and one day as our halls began to echo with the telltale, ghostly murmurs of the Winds, agile Breyas readied himself for a fierce chase. He would pursue the Winds to their airy abode and there would let loose a fiery inferno upon them; that would surely teach them to hold their wicked tongues. When the moment for action arrived, Breyas dashed forward with all the speed he could muster, and by the time the Winds had reached the base of the mountain trail, he was just a few feet behind them, their breezy hair tickling the tip of his ridged nose. He let out a burst of crimson flame, and the Winds scattered before him, flitting through the trees in confusion. In a moment, though, the air was still, and Breyas stood alone on the path.

The dragon turned tail and began a somber march back to the caves. Though the swiftest of all the dragons, not even he could not match the winds for speed; he would return to his people, defeated. Wandering in such a state of self pity and lamentation, Breyas nigh missed the little voice chirping near his feet.

“The Valley of the Winds is not far from here, you know.” The startled Breyas' gaze fell upon a small, hazelnut sparrow hopping alongside him. “Not far at all, you know. Just up the path.” Breyas slowed to a stop, and the sparrow slowed as well but continued to hop excitedly from place to place. “Not far, not far at all. We can show you the way.” Breyas at this point looked to either side and, to his surprise, beheld amidst the underbrush hundreds of tiny birds, each with bright, kind eyes. A flurry of chirps went up all about him, urging him up the hill and toward his goal, and as he began, first slowly and then faster and faster, the avian chorus followed him. “Not much farther!”

Breyas came at last to the Refuge of the Winds. There, atop the mountain, among the boulders and the brush, he found the North, the East, the West, and the South Winds, all swirling through the air and whispering secrets to the sky. Breyas vaulted onto a nearby boulder, and lunging forward, he sent out a fiery plume that enveloped the Winds, charring the grass and sending a black pillar of smoke billowing into the heavens. The deed was done. Then, from amidst the smoke, there came a chorus of callous laughter. The smoke cleared as the Winds rushed forward unscathed and began to swirl mockingly about Breyas.

“Ever a failure,” they whispered. “Ever a fool.” Fiery blood coursed through the dragon’s veins. A raucous cry rang out, “Your people will fall!” With a terrific roar, Breyas darted forward and snapped his jaws about the Winds, trapping them within. The Winds howled and spun about, but Breyas was calm and the air was still; not a blade of grass moved in the afternoon sun’s cheery glow. “What is your name, Dragon?” Breyas shook his head, knowing that the wily Winds were only trying to trick him into opening his mouth. “Free us now,” they commanded angrily, but Breyas showed no fear. “Free us now,” they begged him, but Breyas was unsympathetic. “Let us live!” they cried at last, “and unto you we’ll give to soar upon our backs. Our breath will fill your wings and carry you through the skies.” Thus upon dragons was bestowed the gift of flight, and the kind birds, who, though small, had aided in this effort, were not deprived of the same boon. Thus did all avians learn flight, and thus did brave Breyas take on the name ‘The Devourer’, for he had conquered and tamed the wild Winds.

It wasn’t long before the hunters came, arrayed in fine steel made strong by dragon’s breath and bearing blades born from our salamander fires. They came seeking treasures for which we as well had grown too fond, and among my kind, there arose a great dispute as to what course of action lay ahead for us. A great many sued for peace, urging that we fly away to the safety of the mountain peaks, there where man’s swords could not reach us; others insisted that we wait within our hidden troves deep beneath the earth, there to defend with our very lives the riches we had amassed. Yet others, emboldened by our new-found gift of flight, whispered war. In the end, however, the Fire would win out. Bel the Infernal spoke with a silver tongue and promised peace in seeking after war. I, like many others, was caught in his web of lies. I, too, was led down against mankind to slaughter and pillage, to reclaim the treasures that, according to Bel’s account, the humans had stolen from us in ancient days.

Though a great many of us believed Bel’s treacherous tales, not all of our kind chose to fight: some, Breyas among them, flew away to distant lands, never to be heard of again; others retreated to mountainous aeries high above the downy clouds, there where the earth cuts through the silent sky. There remained but a few who opposed Bel’s dominion, and these Bel disposed of personally. The Betrayer led those that would follow him down against the human’s strongholds to the East, burning down villages and devouring any that stood against him. Bel and his dragons razed the land and in victory roared from the rooftops of conquered keeps, carrying back treasures untold to our troves beneath the earth.

I had felt the evil burning within my heart. I saw within my people’s eyes the look of death– not that of coming death but of that emptiness which comes upon the living who are dead inside. I could not pluck the burning from my foul breast; the Fire remained ever within me, and the Winds often visited me in bitterness. “Your people’s end is near,” they whispered. “You will fall,” they sang.”

Soon dragon turned on dragon, friend on friend, and Bel, wild with bloodlust and blinded by greed, went out in want of war and found it all too soon.

As for Mankind, he rebuilt. I watched, however, as our bright caverns crumbled one by one and as my brothers fell, one before the hateful claws or the fiery breath of another. Those that remained, once full of life and spirit, crept into their silent caves and lost themselves within the glint of gold. They gave over their hearts to their treasures and their lusts, and as they festered within their shadowy dens, their hearts– once precious and more radiant than any gem– became as stone, unfeeling and apathetic. The Lords of Earth and Sky, who had once tamed Fire and subjected the Winds to their will, became slaves to their dead treasures and their appetites. Though they had once subdued the very elements, they could not tame the fires of greed nor calm the storms of anger within their own hearts, and so they perished beneath the earth with their lifeless wealth, alone in their dark citadels and their desert palaces.

I, Marak, am the last, and I alone remain. Of those that once departed, racing off to distant shores on wings of solitude, I know not. Of those that left to airy roosts, I can say only, they are no more. My people have, perhaps, at last, learned the meaning of peace. O, Man, to what distant shores do you now soar? Where is thy memory? I know only that soon, I perish, and then shall I speed to distant shores on wings unseen, and there shall I rest, at last, at last. And there will the Fire be plucked from my soul, and there will I find my rest.