Chapter One
Chapter One
E choes of steady clicking wind down the stone hallway and into Oryn’s ears, warning him of an impending interruption. His eyes continue to scan the words on the page in front of him as he tries to finish the paragraph, or even page. Oryn sighs, his focus too broken to absorb what his eyes read. Redoubling his efforts, he blinks rapidly and reads the passage again. When he’s still unable to absorb the words on the page, he rubs his temples and tries once again, finally able to focus beyond the clicking footfalls heading his way. By the time the reverberations have died down, he’s nearly finished with the page. When he flips it, he’s excited to discover he had been correct, and is nearly finished with the book entirely.
“Oryn,” a voice calls to him in a deep baritone. Still reading his book with fervor, Oryn ignores it and waits for its owner to enter the room. When they do, he finally looks up to see his companion, arms weighed down by a wooden shipping container as he walks on his hind legs. “Whoops,” he adds remorsefully when he catches Oryn reclining with a book, his plated shoulders rising with the word of apology.
“Two minutes, Zath,” Oryn calls with a wink before he returns his gaze back to the book and the words within. Once he places the box on the long desk amidst the seating area, the drake is blessedly quiet while he waits, and Oryn finishes in no time at all.
“Good part?” Zathrian questions, and Oryn nods enthusiastically in return.
“Good book, actually,” he replies, holding the leather bound tome up and wiggling it for the drake to see. “I’m glad to have gotten it finished before heading out to raid. I wouldn’t have been able to stand leaving a few pages unread, and taking it with me would have been too stressful.”
Zath looks at him, his head tilting to one side. “Too stressful?” he questions, humor lacing his words as his sharp eyes wrinkle toward one another.
“I couldn’t risk its safety, Zath,” Oryn replies, stroking the cover gently, his sharp talons retracted as they always are when he touches his books.
“And staying for a few extra hours to finish it was out of the question?” the drake teases, causing Oryn to huff out a scalding stream of air from his nostrils. “I should have known,” Zath says, his tone light and playful before he taps the wooden box on the desk. “This is your latest shipment,” he explains before handing Oryn a packing slip.
The dragon Prince unfolds the sheet of paper and scans the list of titles with glee, heat rising to his chest showing his excitement.
“I think I’ll wait to shelve them,” Oryn says, then adds, “That way I have something to look forward to once I return to this prison.” His eyes glance upward at the stone ceiling. Already his mood has soured at the mere idea of returning to his home after his raiding period is over. He’s done everything he could to make his lair comfortable. Yet apprehension still rises in him every time he thinks about being forced to stay within, or near, those stone walls. He lives for the freedom he has while raiding, and can’t stop himself from wishing he could have the privilege to come and go as he pleases all the time.
“I’m sure the number will grow with your adventures,” Zath says with reassurance. “It does every time you head out to raid.” Oryn nods to him sheepishly. “Plus, If I remember correctly this is only one of three shipments you requested from the Keepers. So those three, plus any more you find. It’s sure to keep you busy for at least a few months after your return.”
“Undoubtedly so,” Oryn says, agreeing with his friend. The pair had been companions for so long, they had begun to feel like family to one another, and Oryn couldn’t imagine his life without the drake by his side. Yes, Zath cares for his needs, helps him. Some might say, serves him, but it’s more than that. As a drake, Zathrian and the rest of his kind live to help others. It brings them a sense of fulfillment like little else does, and being Oryn’s chosen drake is a great honor to Zath and his family alike.
Lost in thought, his eyes land on his library. The thick stone shelves carved from the interior of the cave itself house his horde. When he first designed it, he hadn’t expected it to grow to such an immense size, but once he learned the wayward Keepers could still be entreated with collecting and sending him his books, he seized every opportunity he could to grow his library. From the small sitting area where they stand, he’s able to look at the rows and rows of titles. Oryn takes a moment to cast his eyes on each of his favorites, and as always, some new additions he hasn’t even opened. He still hadn’t ever managed to read all of his collection before finding more to add to it, though that’s the kind of problem he rather enjoyed having.
Returning to himself, Oryn turns his attention back to his companion and bares his teeth in a smile. “Did another shipment come in?” he questions the drake, unable to hide the glowing heat of excitement illuminating his chest and the crystals jutting from his hide there.
Zath nods, guilt filling his features. He tries to turn away from the Prince, but before he can, Oryn catches the expression.
“Zathrian,” he says, his voice chastising. The drake turns back, and Oryn softens. “You know good and well the weeks you get to foray into the world and build your hoard aren’t enough. I won’t have you feeling guilt or even discomfort in having my help to grow that which is most important to you,” Oryn says, his tone soothing. “Especially since you are so very important to me.” Zath drops his face into his scaled hands, uncomfortable with receiving the praise and comfort. “Besides, you need a project to keep you busy while I’m gone or you’ll get too lonely.” The Prince nudges him with a wing, and the drake perks up. Oryn’s concern for Zath vanishes when the drake’s excitement is plain on his scaled face.
“I guess you’re correct on that account,” Zath concedes. “The lair does feel rather empty at times.” The drake nods. “Plus, without you making a mess of everything when I have my back turned, I run out of things to do,” he adds, looking pointedly at the pile of pillows on the stone floor Oryn hadn’t picked up or straightened after standing.
Oryn’s chest brightens in a hot blush at the scolding and he clears his throat.
“I’ve set out a series of books I think you might enjoy. If you felt so inclined to read them while I’m gone,” Oryn says, changing the subject. “Last time I went out to raid and you read what I left out …” the dragon Prince pauses. “Well, I truly enjoyed talking about them when I returned.”
Zath’s expression warms and he nods.
“What did you choose this time around?” the drake questions, and Oryn perks up at his interest.
“Without spoiling too much,” he begins, “it’s all about a form of magic that can bring others back from the dead. The hero has it and has to hide his ability from others, but he ends up saving them all despite his ‘terrible power,’” Oryn explains, his taloned hands waving through the air excitedly as he speaks.
“Sounds different,” Zath replies with a shake of his head. “I might get to them after I’ve built a new shelf for my new babies.”
“Babies?” Oryn questions. He never heard Zath call his teacups babies before, but a dragon’s hoard was a thing that held utmost importance to him, so if his friend wanted to call them babies, he had no right to judge.
”Why not? I care for them. Clean them. Provide them a home,” Zath says, puffing up his chest with pride.
“All excellent points,” Oryn replies, holding in the laughter he feels burbling in his chest.
“Then of course with the new shelf I’ll have to organize them again,” the drake worries, his thick, armored hands caressing one then the other in front of his chest. “That will take some time. Of course, I don’t even know how I will decide to set them up again. They will all need a good cleaning as well.” Zath looks up at Oryn to find his eyes wide and playful and instantly, the drake’s chest brightens behind his scales. The tell tale blush of their kind heating his chest to a soft glow.
“I’m very glad to have given you such an exciting task, my friend,” Oryn tells him, and Zath’s chest returns to its usual coloring. The drake clears his throat, no doubt moving the warmth of his blush further away from the surface.
“Will you be headed to the Nathairfae first?” the drake questions, changing the subject to avoid talking about his embarrassment. He’d always been shy to share his hoard with other dragons, though Oryn couldn’t understand why. His own books were thought to be worthless by their kind. Easily destroyed and of no true value, and to others, it might be true. Yet to him, the volumes gracing his shelves were invaluable. Each one contains friends he couldn’t have met without opening the pages. Lessons in life and love that he wouldn’t have experienced any other way. He loved them just as Zathrian loved his teacups.
“Of course,” Oryn tells him and jerks his head toward his private nesting chamber just beyond the sitting area of the library. The drake follows behind as Oryn makes his way from his library through a wide but short passage, and into his personal room. He likes staying close to his horde, but has learned the hard way that the all too flammable books needed their own separate room. “It’s always my first stop, you know that.” He replies while Zath remains near the door while he removes his monocle. Oryn carefully unclasps the metal band from around one of the crystals crowning his head, and lifts it away. It had been a gift from Zath many years ago, and remained one of his most prized possessions next to his books.
Before the petite magnifying lens he’d been forced to stoop over a sheet of glass meant to enlarge the tiny words on the pages of his books. It was uncomfortable at best, and miserable more often than not. Oryn’s neck was always kinked, and there were times he’d been forced to quit reading far before he was ready due to the terrible ache in his legs from holding the same position for hours on end. With the eye piece though, he could lounge nearly anywhere and read comfortably. Even with the ability to spread out across cushions his body still became stiff after the long hours of reading, though.
Once the magnifying monocle is safely stored in its box, Oryn removes the golden bands at his wrists marking his status as a Prince, and the long silken robe he favors. They would only get in the way while flying, and he didn’t want to risk them getting damaged during his raid. He didn’t need to wear clothing, none of them did, but Oryn enjoyed the feel of the golden silk across the more supple areas of his hide. Unlike Zath, his skin bears far fewer armored scales which might catch on the delicate fabric, making it more of an option for him. He was made to fly, while the drakes were intended to endure.
After all, with no wings or other quick way of escape, their only option was to fight if the need arose, and their bodies showed it. Oryn’s body, on the other hand, was covered in a dark, leathery hide that was only dotted with heavy scales along his arms and legs. Altering the silken robe to accommodate both the scales and the golden crystals running down his spine and sprouting from his shoulders had been a simple task. He had removed the sleeves, and had a long slit cut into the rear of the robe to accommodate both his crystals and his tail.
“I’ll still never understand why you choose to run wild across the whole of Drandaris during your allotted time to raid instead of building your horde.”
Oryn shrugs before folding the robe and placing it next to his other precious belongings. He looks at the folded silk, then glances pointedly at Zath before repeating the process, ensuring the drake sees he’s folded the robe. The Prince’s actions have Zath shaking his head in amusement. Of course he wouldn’t understand Oryn’s desire for adventure, the drake has so little time for his own raids that every minute is precious.
“I can just as easily get my books through correspondence. The wayward Keepers still aid in that purpose, even if they’ve abandoned their post at the Plateau. Plus,” Oryn adds, looking wistfully toward the shelves in the next room, “I get a better selection that way. Do you remember when I would come home with charred remains of children’s books? Or even worse, copies of books I already had!” Zath nods before letting out a small huff of laughter. “I get four months every six years, Zath.” The prince groans. “That’s it. I want to spend that freedom seeing everything I can. Experiencing all the things I miss out on while I’m stuck here.”
“Here isn’t that bad, Oryn,” Zath presses and Oryn sighs in response. He’s right, and this isn’t the first time a similar conversation has come up. Indeed, nearly every time Oryn’s raiding period comes, it happens. He loves his lair, it’s filled with everything he could want, and if given the chance, his older brother would take it from under his nose. Its proximity to the crystal caverns, thermal spring, and abundant space were the envy of many, Admetus most of all. Yet all of that didn’t change Oryn’s nearly constant feeling of being hemmed in by the stone surrounding them.
“No, it’s a wonderful home. I freely admit that, Zath. But a home starts to feel like a prison when you have rules on how far you can stray from it.” Oryn flops down onto the pile of pillows in his nest and stretches his tight back. With his forelegs in front of him, he pushes them as far as possible, then stretches his sharp taloned hands, before doing the same with his hindlegs. He’d been reading since the sun rose and now, late in the afternoon, his body began to complain about the lack of movement. Oryn lingers there for a few moments, enjoying the deep sprawl before he returns to his conversation with Zath. “I can’t just take off and go swimming in the Draca or walk on its beaches with Rouhi. Nor can I soak in the sulfur pools of the wetlands with Cruor. Just like I can’t lose myself in the Nathairfae Wood when it strikes my fancy,” the Prince explains, only a little exasperated by the monotony of the talk.
Being a drake, Zath always enjoyed the comforts of home more than traveling, but if Oryn could, he would explore and run wild through the lands of Drandaris and only come home when he absolutely needed the rest. “I’m not saying I don’t love it here, I’m saying, I love seeing the world I’m a part of more than I enjoy sitting here every day wishing I could experience the things I read about.”