The Owl Diaries DREGON Pt1/4

THE OWL DIARIES, DREGON Book 1

Authored & Illustrated by
T.W.HEBERTSON

Copyright 2011 by T.W.HEBERTSON

All rights reserved


This work may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission.



The Owl Diaries
-DREGON-


Dregon suddenly felt alive, as the chill from winter’s dying breath seeped through the cracks of his warm oval smoothed chamber.  Staleness and confinement were replaced by new sensations of freedom and vitality that continually energized his body and lungs with each new breath of cold air.  The world which Dregon knew was slowly growing bigger and brighter as he pushed his scaly-horned head through his fractured and tiny brittle shell. 
Peering into the surrounding darkness he could see new unfamiliar silhouetted shapes hanging from the air.  Some of these vague and twisted shapes joined with their mirrored halves from the ground.  These numerous and dark prominent objects were scattered throughout the vast bluish moon lit cavern.  Opposite the snowdrift and icicled opening in the ceiling, at the far end of the cave, was a vast smooth and clear unmoving pool of ice water, which reflected the great void of blackness over and beyond it.  In the middle of the pool was a small island which held upon it a craggy tower of interlaced silver and black ice.
“I see Stone Feather has awakened,” said a reverberating low deep voice from the darkness beyond the towering ice, followed by silence. 
Unmoving, Dregon immediately sensed a foreboding danger looming beyond the craggy tower.  Fear gripped Dregon as he silently stumbled and hid amongst the shadows of stalagmites and hollowed rock.  He could hear his heart pounding loudly as he waited for the unexpected.  Holding his breath to hear further into the blackness and showing no movement, Dregon could barely distinguish the sound of fluttering wind over his own racing pulse.
The wind grew louder and louder, closer and closer, circling overhead, again and again, breaking the utter silence of his new domain, then it stopped. Time stood still for the frightened Dregon.
“Come forth little one, I can see you in shadow…Do not fear, for I, am your brother.”
Dregon still lay in the shadows, motionless. Then he saw blinking in the darkness two enormous glowing amber eyes looking towards him from the craggy tower of ice.  He could now see the movement of a creature stirring atop the tower that was not there before, a very strange looking creature. This creature had a big half-rounded head that stood upon wide shoulders whose muscular body tapered ever so slightly to the bottom, displaying a threatening and commanding presence. 
“I brought you something to eat,” said the creature “It’s beneath the ‘sky portal’.” 
  “W-who are you?” quivered Dregon.
“They call me, Snowbeak.” 
  “W-who are they?” asked Dregon.
“They are those whom wish to see you dead.” 
  “D-dead, me…why?”
Then without warning, the creature burst into the air with a mighty jump unfolding his enormous wings, dived, and stopped a second short of Dregon’s hiding place.  The wind from the creature’s braking wings sent chills of paralyzing fear throughout Dregon’s body.  Dregon’s spiny back was pinned against the jagged rocky wall. “Because a Stone Feather you are,” replied Snowbeak ominously.
Cautiously, Dregon poked his head from his cramped hiding place and now could see Snowbeak in his frightening entirety.  This predator was menacingly astounding.  Snowbeak was a magnificent giant white snowy owl whose powerful wings and huge razor sharp talons could carry enormous loads producing great instantaneous speed.  Snowbeak’s eyes appeared even brighter close up, piercing through Dregon’s soul and beyond. 
Surely we can’t be brothers, Dregon thought…looking at his own scaly body and leathery wings.  We look nothing alike.  “Brothers you say, how can that be?”  As time passed on Dregon regained more control of his new body.  He slowly looked around for an escape route through the thick darkness. 
“You and I had the same mother.  She died last autumn after you were born.  She found and fostered me from the wilderness and taught me the ways of the Stone Feather.”
Dregon lowered his guard a little, “Stone Feather?” 
Snowbeak stood straight up and unfolded his wings, “Look upon your silver wings and feathers, they are much harder than my own.  They can better protect you from fire, ice and other elements of destruction, including Elohm.”
“Elohm?” inquired Dregon, shifting his footing for a final escape. 
“Yes little brother.  Elohm is the essence of life.  An unseen, all powerful life force that created you and me, the sky and ground, the air you breathe and water you drink, the light of day and the expansion of night that cradles the stars.  Energy which can be summoned and controlled by those who have learned the ancient knowledge of its secrets and counterparts.  Its power is used both by light and dark habitants of Urthe.  But enough questions for now, Stone Feather, you must be uncomfortably hungry.  I know that I am”.  Snowbeak looked around the cave intentionally uninterested, trying to alleviate Dregon’s unsettled fear.
“Dregon.” the little silver dragon stated empirically.
  “What is that you say?”  Snowbeak returned his full attention.
“Dregon.  That is my name.  I think.  I remember a voice singing that name to me.  I remember a voice that was comforting and loving before entering this world.  The same voice which taught me to speak.”
“Dregon?” Snowbeak paused lifting a brow, “Then Dregon it is.  Follow me, Dregon.” Snowbeak lifted through the air with ease, dodging around the shimmering stalagmites and landed below the roof opening of the underground cavern.

The brace of snow hare was quite tasty and satisfying, a meal quite fulfilling for the small Dregon and a good snack for Snowbeak. 
“Wait till you try mountain gruff and trylorns, now that is good eating.”
  “Where do you get them?” asked Dregon.
Snowbeak replied, “You have to find them and hunt them down.”
  “Are they hard to catch?” Dregon ripped into another delectable leg.
“Not at all, rather easy, unless they dash into the sticky pines; then it’s a whole new challenge all together.”  A discouraging gastronomical memory hit Snowbeak as he swallowed a bony rabbit whole, “Just never eat crow, they do not swallow well.  Rodents of the sky, I call them.  Had a bad one once, coughed up shards of bone and coarse black feathers for days, Blah!”  The very thought of Snowbeak’s last crow ala Carte made his body cringe with nausea.  “Messy, very messy…that reminds me, you could move much quicker if you just used your wings and not crawled around the cave climbing up and down rocks like a bull-toady.  You do know how to fly, don’t you?” Snowbeak raised another theatrical brow.
“I-I don’t know, I’ve never tried,” replied Dregon. 
“Of course you haven’t,” bellowed Snowbeak with a mischievous grin.  “Tomorrow, you will.”  Quite satisfied with his midnight snack, he turned back to Dregon with a forced yawn, “For now let us rest, we have an eventful day when the sun breaks over the Vorandel tomorrow.” 


































Sitting proud and higher among the surrounding snow covered Vorandel Mountains was majestic Lone Peak.  Its towering mass was extremely shear in nature, and seven times as wide.  The balding granite summit was well weathered and stained from wind, rain, glaciers and lightening scars. Its many canyons and taluses of house sized boulders gave the mountain’s appearance of a giant’s hand struggling out of the ground and petrified from an ancient time long forgotten.  Its base was dotted with many blue jeweled lakes and was carpeted with snow covered evergreens, fur, and lodge pole that blended into the surrounding Sanderia Forest which constantly emitted scents of pine and hints of mint into the crisp fresh air.
“Ah! Invigorating, is it not? This is the place.”  The great owl stretched forth his wings, inhaling a cold deep breath. 
They sat in stillness watching the disappearing early morning mist from the bottom of a thousand foot vertical wall that supported the pyramid shaped ice covered peak.  Dregon had never seen so much light before and was amazed how big the world really was with his new spectacular views.  Looking west over the Sanderia Forest and across the wide Valley of Saltaire, a great meandering river divided the valley and marshy alkaline plains.  Beyond the cat-tails and short brush of the plains was a distant dark-reddish mountain range called the Ochre’s.  Dregon could see a hundred miles or more.  He noticed singular columns of black smoke rising from the Ochre’s and asked Snowbeak what it was. 
“Men and miners of Mundhorte.  Not a good place for ones like us to visit.  You would be wise never to venture in that direction.” 
“Are they the ones who want me dead?” Dregon recalled last night’s conversation.
“No, they would care even less if they had the chance.  Their greed for wealth and mineral gives them a false sense of wellbeing.  They don’t understand the gifts of Elohm.  They exist selfishly to the disregard and destructions of others,” scowled Snowbeak. “But you are always safe up here.” I cannot tell Dregon whom his enemy is until he comes to the age of reason and understanding.  Snowbeak immediately changed the subject, “Now, remember what we talked about this daybreak back in the cave? About skying? Always cup your claw to catch the air.  Move them to guide your flight and your wings will follow.  Use them to steer and always look before you turn.  Exhale with your down stokes.  If you get into trouble just spread your wings hard and straight as you can from your body and you will sky to safety.  And not to worry, I’ll be at your side the whole time.  Any questions?” giving Dregon a confidant smile.
“Do we have to do this today?” Dregon asked worriedly.
“Oh definitely! You see that large lake amongst those smaller ones?” Snowbeak motioned towards the far north end of Lone Peak Mountain.  “That lake is called Hidden Bella.  That is our destination today.  We have a party to attend.  Now climb up on me and grab my neck securely.”  Dregon jumped and struggled a little as he climbed up.  “Good, very good.  Now just hold on tightly and I’ll begin our journey down.”  With a powerful jump, that almost threw Dregon, they were immediately in the air gliding through morning shadows of the snow covered boulders and monolithic rock walls that lined the sloping spine of Lone Peak.  Dregon clenched Snowbeak for his very life.  He couldn’t believe what was happening to him.  Less than a day ago he was swimming and twisting in the comfort of his warm secluded shell.  Thoughts of last night’s awakening, a quick skying lesson and trying not to fall invaded Dregon’s jumbled head.  They glided quickly down the mountain soaring up and down with thermal drafts, dodging mist clouds and skimming the tree tops.  Dregon’s nerves slowly calmed down as his watery wind-chilled eyes were suddenly protected by the closure of a transparent inner eyelid. 
Whoa! Dregon thought, he could now see better.  Confidence was quickly building within him.  The dynamic feeling of movement and the fear of skying was quickly fading away.  Skying felt like second nature to him as he loosened his grip from Snowbeak’s feathers. 

“We’re almost there!” Snowbeak shouted as he dived steeper and faster towards Hidden Bella.  Upon reaching the lake, Snowbeak turned and circled the shoreline a few times when his voice broke the surrounding silence echoing a loud HOOOT!  “Still remember your skying lessons?”
Dregon’s chain of thought suddenly broke with anxiety, “What?”
Snowbeak immediately barrel-rolled in mid-flight flipping Dregon into the air, hundreds of feet above the thawed lake.  Dregon yelled as a flood of panic rushed through his free falling body.  His mind and limbs froze helplessly and he tumbled towards the lake with increasing speed. 
“Stretch your wings, straight out!  Harder!” Snowbeak dove paralleling the helpless little dragon.
Still yelling he could barely discern the owl’s instructions over the rushing wind.  Petrified and scared, fear bound his ability to control his limbs.  Faster and faster he sped towards the lake. 
“Wings straight out! WINGS-STRAIGHT-OUT!” Snowbeak panicked. 
Wings out straight, straight out wings, wings-straight-out! Dregon thought hastily…harder! HARDER!  Then with a popping sound his leathery wings filled with air jerking his body with an incredible force, followed by an immediate decrease of air speed, he was skying!
         “WHEE-HOOO!” Dregon was ecstatically relieved as he gained control and blood flowed back into his limbs. “I’m skying! I’m skying!”  He glided straight for a while admiring his amazing wings.  He carefully turned figure eight patterns over the lake while slowly adjusting altitudes and varying speeds.  Dregon felt a total thrill of excitement flapping his wings feverishly against the light breeze coming down Hidden Bella Canyon.
Snowbeak was relieved that nothing bad had happen. Well, it could have been worse, thinking nonchalantly.  He tailed Dregon shouting timeless clichés of moral support; “I knew you could do it…I had total confidence in you…you’re a born natural!”
Moments of glory quickly faded.  With sudden fatigue and stressed joints the little dragon’s wings collapsed and he plunged helplessly straight into the icy cold water.  He struggled flapping his wings trying to stay afloat, but was quickly subdued by exhaustion. The instant cold shock of the lake felt like a thousand stinging needles.  He began to sink and yelled for help.  Freezing darkness enveloped his head as he held his breath.  Dregon could do no more but look at the distorted greenish-light filtering through the choppy surface of the lake.  The light from above was disappearing.
Snowbeak immediately flipped backwards, corrected his orientation, and dove towards the lake at high speed plunging his mighty talons deep into the water carefully pulling Dregon out.

On the eastern shore Snowbeak was comforting the traumatized Dregon when a furious voice shot through the tree line.
“Snowbeak Mooneye!”
He turned from Dregon defensively and stood straight up, “Oh, hello Evaria.”
A black and white fur cloaked hooded woman came running towards them.      “Don’t you hello me!  What do you think you’re doing with that precious little dragon? How dare you risk his life with a stunt like that!”
“What are you talking about?” Snowbeak retorted with a forced look of confusion.
“Don’t feign ignorance with me.  I saw the whole thing as you dropped him from the sky.”
“Oh that,” he said unconcerned.
“Yes that!” she snapped back, placing her hands on her hips.
Snowbeak jovially responded, “We were just practicing our first skying lesson. And, I might add, it was quite a successful one at that”, smiling confidently with a quick sparkle in his eye.
“Skying lesson? Skying lesson?” she said appallingly, “It was more like falling to your death at a hundred leagues an hour, while your life blurs and passes instantaneously before your eyes, knowing the whole miserable time that you will inevitably add your distinct essence of color on the last thing you hit.”
Dregon didn’t understand a word she said as he sat there shivering on the snow-covered ground.
“You know Ari,” Snowbeak said with a crooked smile and an ‘I know what I’m doing attitude’, “you could make a tidy profit writing stories and myths with such elaborate descriptions of death and suffering.”
“And you should drop your flare for the flamboyant before you get someone or something killed,” she added in a forced hushed tone.  She knelt down towards Dregon who was still shaking and coughing, not so much from the cold but from the threat of uncertain death.  “There there, there we go, it will be alright.  You’ll be just fine.” 
Snowbeak rolled his eyes not saying a word.
She looked Dregon over quickly for any sign of damage.  “Let’s get back to the hall before he freezes.  The weather looks like it will change for the worse.”  Untying her cloak, she picked up Dregon and placed him next to her partly exposed body then retightened it.  Her pale fair skin felt soft and smooth as her body heat transferred to his.  He snuggled his head into her chest and thought, this is better than my warm shell back in the cave.
Lucky little dragon, Snowbeak shared the same thought.  Having a wing span almost five times the height of Evaria, Snowbeak could have flown both of them on his back.  But hesitantly he did not offer.  He hopped and hovered through the hollows in the trees waiting often for them to catch up while leading them up the canyon to the great hall.  Ultimately, the ever-changing winter sky could not make up its mind.  Scattered clouds with patches of blue sky, followed by dark clouds and grey mist continually threatened snow fall throughout the day and constantly changed the mood and appearance of the surrounding mountain the rest of the day. 


































A farewell to kings; Deep within the granite mountain abides the great ruins of Azbordar, home to the bygone Giant Mountain Kings.  Their legacy and history were written in stone throughout the Loradomor Plateau.  Legend speaks in the year twenty one twelve, during the great Ages of Ice, they were the ones who constructed the mighty Jadenor River through the Saltaire Valley in an effort to travel easily between the two great seas by ship.  Though most of the surrounding rooms, tunnels and anti-chambers were destroyed by ancient quakes the main gathering hall had survived the violent multiple shakings and upheavals.  This dramatic room was carved from solid stone.  Chiseled ivy works, ornate designs and elaborate symbols graced the walls and high ceiling with excellent workmanship.  In the middle of the room stood a great hearth for roaring fires, whose smoke rises and leaves through a natural flue in the ceiling.  A single winding tunnel served as the main corridor between the great hall and Hidden Bella Canyon.  Two giant thick oak doors, replaced years ago, guard the entrance which is partially hidden by large fallen boulders and pine trees.  A natural ledge outside the door offers extraordinary views of the valley below and the steep glacier carved canyon above harbors a magnificent waterfall that plummets hundreds of feet over the Khlong Lan.

         Snowbeak squeezed through the main entrance tunnel, knowing that in a couple of years that Dregon would be unable to.  As they entered into the great hall, Evaria laid Dregon next to the fiery hearth.  Lit torches throughout the room filled dark corners with glowing light and warm ambience.  Over the hearth was a smoked mountain gruff skewered on a rotating spit, along with steaming pots of food.  The aroma of food and herbs filled everyone’s nostrils with anticipated culinary pleasure.  Around the room were throw rugs made from gruff skins, white-tails and other animal hides.  Various light-colored wood furniture, cabinets, containers and woolen wall tapestries were strategically placed by a ‘woman’s touch’.
         “I like what you’ve done with the place Ari, feels homely,” even though Snowbeak preferred a large pine bow or a dimly lit cavern. 
         “Yes, I’ve made a few changes. Will you keep an eye on Dregon while I change out of this cloak?” Evaria disappeared into one of the side rooms.
         “I will keep both eyes on him.” Snowbeak replied attentively.  He leaned over Dregon. “How are you doing little brother?  Quite the beginning for a daybreak start, yes?  You were fantastic out there.  So tell me how you really felt.”
         Dregon was not coughing and shivering so much, “Pretty good, except for the wet part.”
         Snowbeak laughed, “Baptized by ice water.  Yes, I know this.  When spring breaks we’ll teach you how to water-stroke,” The great owl smiled unequivocally.
         Dregon tried to smiled back when his face immediately contorted into a wreathing expression of pain and agony, he paused-holding his breath.
         “What is wrong?” Snowbeak was alarmed.
         “Ec-ech-eech, ECHEWW!” a blast of compressed frigid air shot forth from Dregon’s mouth, instantly freezing Snowbeak’s biggest clawed toe.
         “What in the Hills of Ochre was that?” Snowbeak yelled in shock to find his toe frozen to the ground.  It was paralyzed, he couldn’t move it.  He curiously eyed the little dragon, “That is some cold you have there!”
         Evaria came bursting into the great hall, panting.  She was wearing a full-length chemise styled, long sleeved dress with a billowed drawstring neckline.  Around her waist was a leather cincher attached to an open front skirt that swept the ground.  The color of her red dress diminished compared to her vibrant long amber-red hair.  Eyes like burning green emeralds and a beautifully chiseled face were equally proportionate to her beautiful, toned shapely figure; she was a living vision to behold.  “What’s wrong?  What happened?” she looked down at Snowbeak's talon, her mouth wide open.  “Extraordinary,” she said in a forced whisper.  Looking back to Dregon she regarded him admirably.  “I’ve heard only in myth, but I never would have guessed to seen this in my days; an ice breathing dragon!”
         “Quite the little bundle of mystery we have here, wouldn’t you say?” Snowbeak stated.  “Especially when his kind breathes fire.”
         Evaria had to look twice, unsure of what she saw.  She noticed a faded mark upon the back of Dregon’s neck.  “Look here,” she motioned to Snowbeak.  Dregon’s first and second neck horns sat in the middle of a two connecting circles, forming the same figure eight pattern he flew only hours ago. “Dregonus Verilionax,” she said with a solemn voice.  She sat back on her heels as an explosion of moving pictures and memories flooded her head, she fell into silence.
         “That’s my name!” Dregon said abruptly as he eagerly pushed off the floor.  He looked at Evaria then to Snowbeak for reassurance only to see an expression of humility on their faces.
         “That was your father’s name, little one.  He had the same mark you now carry”, she rubbed and stroked the dragon’s patterned neck. 

































         “GOOD MORROW TO YOU ALL!” Came a voice exploding out of the corridor.  A man taller than Evaria wearing a black long sleeve tunic, a black long leather jerkin, black pants, black knee-high boots, a black sheathed sword and a smartly styled goatee entered the room.  His chin length hair swayed carefree as he carried a hooded black and white peppered fur coat and a black leather bound pack.  The man in black headed towards Evaria gave her a hug then turned his attention to Dregon, “Happy ‘Egg-Break’ little dragon!”  He patted the little dragon’s head and turned to Snowbeak looking down at his talon and laughed, “What did you do Mooneye, loose a fight with a snowman?”
         Snowbeak laughed in agreement and nodded his head towards Dregon, “It looks as though our newest family member here breathes ice.”  There was another long pause.
“Extraordinary,” the man in black gruffed.
         “Yes, that seems to be the word of the day,” Evaria interrupted.  “Where are the others, Taudfre?”
           “Onna and Marcham are tying up the horses as we speak.”
         “If you would finish setting the table for the celebration, I’ll help Snowbeak with his dilemma”.  Evaria poured two whole kettles of hot water over the owl’s aching toe.  After a few minutes the ice melted and gave way.  “There we are,” she declared with satisfaction.
Snowbeak was now free from the ice and wiggled his clawed talon.  Moments later the last two guests from Glenmoore had arrived.  Onna and Marcham were carrying brown black-spotted fringed fur coats and donning urthe-toned leathers and clothing.  Marcham, who was much larger and broader than Taudfre, proudly sported a long brown beard and longhair.  He holstered an onyx colored sword and carried a powerful bow over his shoulder.  Onna, Marcham’s newest love of his life, was a gorgeous woman from exotic lands.  Her silver-white feathered mopped hair accented her dark tanned complexion and striking features.  She carried an ornate silver staff with a head piece that secured a polished quartz sphere.  A long sheathed silver dagger was attached at her waist. The group exchanged introductions and pleasantries, stored their belongings and settled at the table for the great ‘Egg-Break’ feast, the party had begun.

Evaria, the ever gracious hostess, poured dark amberale into everybody’s goblet. She brought forth the rest of the food, replenished empty platters and refreshed the table, time and time again.  At the end of the meal, came her famous dessert, nob-goblin surprise.  Presto!  She said, lifting a draped cloth off the dark, steaming, sweet-breaded pastry and placed it on the table.  She grabbed a small decorative expensive sword off the wall that she “inherited” from a previous adventure and with the precision of a master chef or some would argue an axe-man, chopped the dessert into equal hemispheres. Everyone awed as the two halves rolled apart revealing a molten, oozing, coco-bean and raspy-berry surprise.
Conversation and laughter dominated the festivity.  The group of friends reminisced on old times and accomplished adventures.  Tall tales were told and legends were resurrected followed by more food and drink.  Dregon learned that Evaria and Taudfre were Aetherdyne kinsmen; a mixed race of men and enchanted Vel.  Vels are creatures of Elohm.  They are the primary stewards of nature and can manipulate the elements for its care.  Although they appear like men of fair complexion, that is where the similarities end.  The Vel have tangible bodies, however they can disappear and reappear out of thin air teleporting through the many realms of Urthe.  They have a natural gift to seduce and command creatures of lower intelligence.  The Vel usually do not associate with men, except for those considered the most noble.  Typically the Vel are honorable beings but some have been known to be mischievous on rare occasions.
Aetherdynes have inherited some of these gifts to a lesser extent.  They have the ability to harness and control Elohm more easily than other races; some can control the elements while a handful was ever known to command the weather.  Taudfre and Marcham’s friendship was founded at a youthful age by common associations between their parents.  Marcham, who has the strength of a bear, has a courageous heart that only skips a beat when faced with steep vertical gain.  He has high anxiety when it pertains to height.  Only once did he ever fly on a dragon which involved the yelling of obscenities and falling ten feet to the ground as it took off.  That was the end of his “furken” piloting career.  Onna, an Aman, was born in the Southern Realm of Urthe and was raised in the Amanaza wetlands.  The Aman are deeply in tuned with nature and hold it sacred.  They worship it, cultivate it and depend on it.  They are experts at agriculture and in farming various types of terrain.  The Vel have the highest respect for the Aman, more than any other culture because of their tireless efforts of preserving nature.  In turn, they teach the Aman their ‘trade secrets’ of controlling Elohm.

Dregon then learned that his father, Dregonus Vermilionax, was a courageous leader among silver dragons, most of whom had been thought killed or have died of old age.  He also learned that silver dragons, a long time ago, once had an alliance with the greatest of men in protecting and guarding the many realms of Urthe from lawless radical factions, including the Dival Norad, the Dark Magi.  Some of these men flew with dragons to do battle while others patrolled the outland borders.  This four hundred year old alliance between dragon and men was known as the Temblor Khabal which was annihilated from the Great Decca War.  The locations of remaining and dysfunctional Khabal veterans are unknown and only their memories now serve this dead legacy.  Mirrored loses on both sides of the Great War were extreme and the opposing Dival Norad has not been seen for a decade.

         The sound of a pinging goblet caught the attention of everyone around the table. “A toast! To our newest family member, Dregon!  May you have more wealth than all the gold and silver mined from Mundhorte, may you always be wiser than the roaming Josmitite Elders, may you always be a step ahead of those scurvy capital politicians of Ekaltlas, that shouldn’t be too hard to do.”  Tuadfre paused briefly and raised his cup towards Dregon, “and may the wind always be at your tail,” as a clash of goblets resonated the great hall. 
Marcham interjected, “May you always impress the lady dragons, outwit your adversaries, find your home fires burning, find your enemies home burning and always help your family and friends at all times; like helping us move our belongings, this spring, to our new dwelling in the Cottonwoods.”  Everyone at the table chuckled except Dregon.
         Snowbeak interrupted, “And, out of politeness, may you always turn your head away from those you keep company with when you sneeze.”
The whole table burst into tears of laughter, including Dregon, as they pointed at Snowbeak’s thawed talon.
         “Happy ‘Egg-Break’ Day!…Merry Birth Day!…yes, happy ‘Egg Break’ Day, Dregon!” as Onna and the others again toasted the little silver dragon with jubilee and another round of crashing goblets.
         Dregon was rather embarrassed with all the attention given to him by people he hardly knew, but nonetheless he still enjoyed it.  Life seemed to Dregon to be a good thing.  It was from this moment on that Dregon’s predestined path was unknowingly laid out by those he would call his family.

         The celebration went straight into the evening.  Dregon enjoyed the last of the smoked mountain gruff and other varieties of food.  He scampered around the great hall looking at items of interest and objects of fascination.  He stumbled upon an old banner with a peculiar design hanging in the recess of an anti-chamber.  Taudfre explained that  the design on the banner was the symbol of the Temblor Khabal.  The symbol had a three looped snake which showed no end, as it consumed its own tail.  This represented the eternal existence of chaos and disorder.  A dagger, representing dominance over chaos, protruded downward through the hole that the snake encompassed.  Over the snake and dagger was a four pointed star encrusted with a blue sapphire.  The blue gem represented the eternal watchful eye of Creation and the points on the star were the four key elements of the Supreme Law, that guided the Khabal: First, Creation’s will is prosperity and peace for all.  Second, do to others as you would have them do to you.  Third, no creation will impose undue force on another.  Fourth, force is justified when the third law is violated.  Dregon continued meandering, nosing around the armory but had yet to realize what the weapons were for.  He enjoyed the views out on the ledge overlooking Hidden Bella Lake and the far stretching lands of the valley below as the sun began to sleep.  The storm weakened and passed over with hardly a trace of snow and there would be a wondrous and star filled sky that chilly night.
The next morning Snowbeak and Dregon awoke in the great hall.  The fire in the hearth was a glowing grey ash.  Onna and Evaria were up early preparing the morning meal.  Taudfre and Marcham were outside on the ledge talking in low tones and drinking steaming hot jasper tea.  By midday everyone gathered to say goodbye as Marcham and Onna headed down the canyon back to their village of Glenmoore.  “Remember Dregon we will see you in the spring,” Marcham chuckled.  He led his horse down the trail and disappeared into the thick pines.
         “Before you go Snowbeak, I have something here for you,” Evaria handed him a leather wrapped book.  “This is an Aetherdyne ledger.  I want you to have it for keeping your adventures and remembering your thoughts of wisdom and singular wit.  It’s charmed, turn to a page and speak to it, it will do the rest.”  She gave Dregon a hug and patted Snowbeak on the back.  “See you both, soon,” she and Tuadfre waved goodbye as the giant snowy owl jumped into the frosty air.  Dregon clutched Snowbeak’s neck.  The fear of falling off, again, dissipated rapidly as they flew and soared around the many canyons of the Vorandel.  They saw its many rivers, lakes and waterfalls, knocked snow of the tips of trees, chased and hunted trylorn and grizzly up through the mountain canyons and enjoyed the sun’s warm brief brilliance before returning to the cavern that afternoon.

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