Amsheera

Fantasy Animal Contest by Rubber Duckie – Squeakie as Ever!

Entry by Amaris

1/9/05

Amsheera

“Stop! Thief!” The plump, dark haired woman of the Praido antiquities shop screeched at the fleeting back of a whirl of colour. “Guard! Don’t just stand there looking lost, boy! Get after him!” She hoisted a young guard forward with a strong arm, giving him a forceful push in the right direction.

With his feet barely touching the dusty roads, Cynric fled from the main hustle of the market streets to the secluded back streets of Praido - City of Mages. The shout caused him to push his gaudily clad body closer against the rough sandstone walls as a small troop of guards hurried past with armour and spears jangling tumultuously. Letting out a sigh, Cynric began swatting the muck from his vibrant purple and silver broad sleeved cape, beneath which where a pair of gold and red harem pants, a sky blue and pink sleeved shirt and a mint green cummerbund inside of which was tucked his stolen prize; the Dragon Wand of Amsheera. Having evaded capture, he smiled broadly to himself and strode towards the opposite end of the alleyway, the tiny gold bells on the curled toes of his orange and black slippers tinkling merrily. As he sauntered he arranged his dark blue and yellow turban, making sure the palm-sized blood red glass bauble sat in position.

Presently, he reached a more trafficked road. He jogged a few steps backwards, up the alley and prepared himself. Sprinting forward, he launched his right foot against one of the walls, closely followed by his left on the opposite wall in zig-zagging pattern up the two storeys until he stood on the roof. Cynric moved to the edge of the rooftop, observing the few idling civilians and measuring the distance across the street by eye. He took a second run up and leapt. His strong hands grasped the edge of the opposite roof while his feet hastily scrabbled for footing. At length he managed to hoist himself onto the flat roof. Without wasting time he slipped down into the alleyway and sprinted off through the back streets of the lower quarter to the city gates.

By the time he reached the city gates the sun hung low in the sky. Two armoured, wary eyed guards stood to attention either side, the midnight sheen of the magic carved portal seeming almost translucent in the scarlet and golden sky. Through the main courtyard, various travellers migrated back and forth, some clammering to sell their wares whilst others started their journey homewards. He bit his lip, unsure of how to cross the gap to the gates and escape the city without being spotted by the guards.

Firm hands gripped his shoulders making him jump. He’d been caught, this was it; off to the dungeons. But, instead of tying his hands and ushering him back to the inner city cells, the guard dragged him towards the gate, ignoring Cynric’s efforts at escape.

“El! We’ve got another caravan rat!” The guard bellowed to one of the gate keepers. They leered at him, then turned to push a path through the throng and out of the city. Cynric couldn’t believe his luck as a second guard grabbed hold of him and tossed him into the dust well clear of the city walls. Wiping their hands the guards muscled their way through the traffic, back to their gate posts.

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Later that night as he huddled in his cape, relishing the warmth of the meagre camp fire, Cynric took out the wand to examine it. Its cylindrical shape of icy white crystal stretched for a span of ten inches with veins of emerald and ruby entwining through the centre. Wrapped around the crystal rod was a lithe black dragon, carved from jet stone and exquisitely moulded to fit. He passed the wand between his tanned palms, watching the play of fire light as it hit the multitude of facets and imperfections within.

He trailed his index finger over the finely cut scales, over the ridges of its spine to its needle-fine pointed tail. He drew his hand away with an exclamation of pain and put his bloodied finger tip into his mouth. Scowling, he went to return the wand to his cummerbund but searing heat burnt his hand, causing him to drop it before his crossed legs. In horror he watched as the tail began to untwine itself, the tiny ribcage began to move as it drew breath, his jaws snapped once and its eyes fixed upon him. Slowly, the jet dragon grew; small horns at his brow lengthened and spiralled upwards, its body was now the size of a terrier while its strong clawed feet pawed at the earth and its tail snaked from side to side. Below its torso, the crystal rod lay, no sign of what had once encircled it remained upon its polished surface.

A low roiling grumble reached Cynric’s ears as he found himself pinned beneath the jet dragon’s steely, silver eyes. Its tongue darted forwards and licked his cheek.

“Garron! It’s good to see you!” The dragon leapt into his lap, nuzzling at his chest with its horny forehead. It’s deep, rumbling voice did not suit the little creature and it was then Cynric realised the grumbling was in fact laughter. “How I have missed you!”

“I- I think there must be some mistake, I-“ Cynric began to protest, finally finding his voice. He reached his hand to push the dragon away but his attempts of repelling turned into petting its scales.

“Mistake? There is no mistake, bonded. Your blood alone can awaken me; maybe you hit your head a little too hard on our last assault of the Manubian hordes? Don’t look at me like that! I may be small now but when I’ve had a bite to eat- which reminds me- what food have you got?” The once pure silver eyes had a pale blue iris in the centre now and looked up at him with anticipation. “Do you have any fresh beef?” The dragon began snuffling at Cynric’s cape and shirt sleeves, moving up to his armpits. Tensing, Cynric pushed the little creature away from his ticklish spot.

“Manubian? What?” Cynric turned away muttering. “I’m going mad, talking dragons…” The dragon fixed him with what appeared to be an exasperated glare, shaking its head slightly. Cynric answered his question. “Err…I don’t have any food myself, I ate what I had at midday. I’m sorry, Mr… Err...Mr. Dragon? ” Cynric asked cautiously. Grumbling laughter emanated once again.

“You really did hit your head too hard. You didn’t forget your own name too, Garron?” The dragon chuckled again. “It’s Azulas; Azulas the Mighty,” Azulas hopped from Cynric’s lap and began prowling in the long, dry grass around the make-shift camp.

“Where are you going? And who’s Garron?”

“To get some food of course,” Azulas called over his shoulder – ignoring the latter question - before he disappeared into the inky darkness.

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Before long, Cynric had stoked the fire and settled down – using his turban as a pillow – and fell into a troubled sleep. He had tucked the crystal rod into his cummerbund shortly after the dragon left, his thoughts not knowing whether to focus more on what would happen when it had fed than what his master would do to him when he found out the wand had suddenly lost fifteen thousand crowns in value – with the jet dragon sculpture now wandering around. A breeze played over his tanned features and dark curly hair, ruffling it, heralding the beginning of a dream.

He emerged from the murk and dampness of a bank of cloud. Between his legs was a saddle of horn growing from the back of a monstrous, black creature. Its thick, armoured scales moved with perfect harmony, its long neck stretched out and crowned with two spiralling horns easily as big as any man’s leg. To either side its leathery wings were beating at a languid pace, keeping them at a steady glide high above a vast forest of pine and deciduous trees. Other wing beats drew his attention to further dragons and riders around him. All shades of gold, silver, green, blue, red, purple and many others besides with varying design, kept pace with the significantly larger dragon beneath him. Each rider had their gaze trained on some unseen target below.

The air around him prickled. He felt himself scowling and shrugging the sensation off. A jet of violet light laced with electric blue shot into the sky hitting an emerald green dragon squarely in the chest. The rider – an auburn haired woman gazed pleadingly towards him as her dragon writhed and began to plummet. Urging his mount into a desperate dive, he swooped below her, and caught the smaller on the larger dragon’s back. Jumping deftly from his saddle he laid a healing hand upon the wounded, a stream of white light careened forth. Within moments the emerald dragon and its rider were back in the air. Distracted by his triumph a second jet of violet light barely missed his dragon though the after shock sent him cart wheeling backwards and down, down, down…”Garron!” the faint cry pierced his heart with sorrow.

Jolting awake, it took a moment for Cynric to orient himself. Dawn seeped over the horizon, his camp fire had long been extinguished and around him a few grass nesting birds twittered their morning song. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He realised the dragon had not returned. Shaking his head he returned his turban to his unruly mop of curls, muttering.

“…hallucinations, something in the water…” Cynric stood, stretched and scuffed the ashes of his camp fire around into the grey dusty earth. He patted the slight bulge of the wand with a smile. He’d be paid as soon as he got to the Guild Head Quarters. He scratched idly at his neck just beneath the collar of his cape and the cat’s eye tattoo of his guild before setting off on the remainder of his journey. He’d be home by noon with any luck, he thought as his stomach growled with hunger.

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Cynric had quickly picked up the road that wound homewards as it neared the Rushymoore River and the land around him grew more fertile. A mile or two from home made his pace almost jaunty and, as he rounded the last bend the silence suddenly hit him. Frowning from the lack of noise from his father’s gangly cattle or the bleating of the few straggly sheep, he jogged around to the wattle and daub farmhouse he had grown up in with his three sisters. On the door step his youngest sister, Blythe, stood sweeping with a grim face. At the sound of approaching footfalls she looked up.

“Cynric! Thank goodness you’ve come home!” She all but leapt on him, hugging him tightly. “Mother and father are beside themselves! Last night some great thing came from the sky! It was horrible! All the live stock and-“

“Cynric? Is that you?” The powerful voice of his father bellowed from within the house. Presently, the stocky man of six feet appeared beside him, having strode purposely to greet his son. “What by the Divinity are you wearing ? Take that stupid thing off boy!” A firm hand knocked the gaily coloured turban to the floor. “You best have earned some bloody good money this time from your thieving!”

“Father, it’s called ‘freely changing of hands’,” His father cuffed him again.

“We’ll have less of that cheek boy,” He grumbled in warning. “Now get changed out of that clap trap, you look like you’ve just tumbled out of a corsair’s carpet shop,” Cynric smirked at his fathers words, untangled himself from his sister’s embrace and hurried inside. He rushed up the stairs before his mother could shower him in kisses and tell him how much she worried about him ‘running all over the country’.

As he reached the box like room he called his own, Cynric threw his disguise to the floor in a heap and began pulling on a pair of soft calf hide breeches and a thin linen shirt, he happened to glance from his miniscule bedroom window to the once inhabited cattle field. A section of the fence was shattered, while leading to it, in wide arcs, were deep gouges in the earth. In one particularly badly drained area of the field a large foot print could be made out. His eyebrows raised as he took in the damage and then turned to join his family downstairs. The guild could wait for the wand until tomorrow.

“Did any of you see what took the livestock?” Cynric asked as he stepped lightly from the stairs. The unusually pale face of his mother focused on him. “Mother?”

“If I didn’t know any better Cynric - and I tell you I’m not mad! – I’d think it was a-a-a dragon. Its skin was as black as pitch even in the dark and as it ate it grew! It was huge, bigger than our house by the time all the sheep were gone and then it started on the cattle,” Her brown eyes were wide, her hands trembled and she appeared not to have slept.

“Don’t be a fool woman-“ Cynric’s father began but Cynric didn’t hear the rest. He left the house and sprinted up the cattle field to examine the foot print he had seen from his room. As he neared it, the size overwhelmed him. Easily as wide across as two cows end to end and as long as five, the immense print had four toes in front, each with three foot claws, and one larger toe to the back. The gouges could only be from the swishing of a horned tail. His eyes followed the gouges to the broken fence at the far end.

A scream rent the air. Cynric turned to see his sister Blythe cowering by the door of the house. Rhythmic wing beats filled the sky. Cynric shifted his gaze upwards and, through the thick clouds, a black shape descended, growing larger every passing second. With a great rumble and a jet of smoke from its nostrils the black dragon landed, the earth quaking beneath it.

“Azulas…” Cynric breathed. The long, serpentine neck lowered and a silver eye fixed upon him. The deep voice reverberated through Cynric, almost knocking him to the floor.

“Garron!” Cynric recovered himself quickly.

“I AM NOT GARRON! I AM CYNRIC A’STAR! SON OF KENRIC A’STAR!” Cynric found himself yelling at the top of his lungs.

“But, young one, you are of the blood of Garron Almastar. You are my blood bonded Cynric, we have a purpose yet to achieve,”

“I AM JUST A THIEF! I HAVE NO PURPOSE OTHER THAN SEPARATING PEOPLE FROM THEIR GOODS! FIND A HERO!” Confidence radiated through Cynric as he met the unfeeling eye with defiance.

“Milennia ago, Cynric, your ancestor unlocked a font of magic from the Manubians, those who would seek to possess the land’s life force and all the wild magic’s as their own. If that happened, all other life would diminish until it finally died out, forgotten. For centuries they drained the power from the heart of the land, forcing my kind to slumber until such a time when we could rise again.

“Your ancestor was a half breed. In his veins ran blood of Manubia and that of an Elfin slave. That Elfin slave was the child of a god and a queen and it was through him that your ancestor had his powers of justice and healing. He knew of the great injustice done to the races of the land and the very pulse of the life the Manubian’s fed from. He vowed to bring an end to it. Using what power reserves he could steal from the miners in the heart of the land and cords of his own blood he awakened me. He recruited others to his cause and soon an army grew. I know what you dreamed Cynric.

“The Manubian’s drained far greater amounts of power than they had ever dared to when faced with our mighty army. They used it to over power our first wave in a surprise attack. When they caught sight of the rest and weighed it against their greatly depleted reserves, they used it to lock themselves into their city, jealously guarding their power and waiting.

“We could not reach the land’s magic and soon my kind returned to their slumber, patiently awaiting a time when they could return to a land rife with magic’s. Time rolled on and as usual with you humans, you forgot. Too tied up in your own affairs to notice the land around you growing sluggish and the colours and vibrancy diminishing. I alone – in my grief for loosing your ancestor – was imprisoned in the jet stone form by that crystal wand. Within it is the life force of your ancestor’s mother and father who sought to protect me even though it cost them their lives. They knew, Cynric and they locked it in the heart of the Praido city gates. It was removed by a would-be wizard for a reason. It was foretold.

“Now the Manubian’s rise again, enslaving what lands they can. It was foretold in ages long past, that one of the line of Almastar, children of the gods, would arise from humble beginnings to bring the reign of magic back to the dying land. You are that one, Cynric, the same blood runs in your veins. Together we can bring life…”