《Primal inheritance》 Prologue Prologue 1-3 Matthias The world was a haze of muddy memories; the flickering images and moments impressed themselves on his mind as quickly as they left. He was warm and wet, like resting in a soothing bath after a long day. He sat swaddled and immobile near a roaring fireplace, or was it a sun? He drank the heat in deeply, feeling the warmth spread through him as it became a part of his flesh, as it congealed into a fire in his core, a second heart that crackled and boiled like a star. All the while the source of heat sang to him in a motherly voice of a deep and powerful sort, a voice that might be spoken by a mountain or the land itself, mighty, old, and enduring. ¡°We are the people of ancient days from when the world was warmer and young. We remember the cold, dark years when snow clouds swallowed the sun. We are the people of ancient days, the children of the five-headed queen. Through strength, and cunning, and ruthlessness, our kind will reign supreme.¡± The voice was joined by many more subtle ones; these ones told stories as he slumbered; they shared with him memories of hunting and stalking, knowledge of tongues, sorcery, and accounts of history orated to the listener by those who had lived and seen it themselves and further still into antiquity. They hummed to him promises that he would grow vast and mighty; they promised that the big voice would protect him, that he could find shelter in its wings for a time until he was ready for the world. Neither knew fate had other plans. Prologue. 2-3 Helena Helena Walker was dead; she was a dead woman walking. The wrathful Red roared far behind, spurring her to sprint harder; she was exhausted, her mind''s reservoir was drained of magic, the gash on her side dripping down her robes and painting a thin trail of crimson droplets behind her as they ran the corridors and tunnels of the dead city. It should have killed her; tears threatened to take her then. That swipe from the red bitch was meant to kill her; she was only alive because Bjorn had tackled her and got pinned instead. Her mind drifted to the terror of that moment; she hadn¡¯t even tried to help him; she didn¡¯t even look as she heard flesh tearing and blood splattering against hard stone like rain. A coward. She was a coward. She had left her friend to die. She kept running, her footfalls growing sloppier and her grip on the stolen egg becoming more strained as Bernard ran close behind with Bjorn¡¯s enchanted sword in hand. We should have never taken this job; damn the duke, DAMN THE POMPOUS BASTARD! She remembered his offer well enough, ¡°Enough riches to live comfortably and study to your heart''s content¡± he had said, his voice oozing with the slipperiness all nobles seemed to exude. ¡°A paid scholarship to the college of your choice¡± he had promised, beady eyes glittering greedily, ¡°All I ask is the egg of Narangerel brought before me, and it''s yours.¡± He had made similar offers to her friends, but she couldn''t remember them; the thought of such wealth enraptured her and muddied her mind that cursed day. She agreed to the task then, along with her friends, and they traveled to the old fortress under the mountain and had gotten to the egg without detection, but then it had all gone wrong. Now Bjorn was dead, Harald and Merida hadn''t been heard from since they tried to distract the dragon, her spellbook was lost in the dragon''s hoard, and they were going to die; none of them would get to enjoy their rewards. Her thoughts were interrupted by hot air rushing by from the tunnel behind them, its brutal heat growing with every step as the tunnel behind them grew bright. Suddenly Bjorn''s sword clattered to the ground, and Bernard grabbed her. He threw his cloak over the both of them and their stolen cargo. He pulled her close to the tiled floor of the hallway and all but screamed the incantation to a defensive spell as blinding dragonfire washed through the tunnel. The flames were repulsed and weakened by the protective magic for only a few seconds before burning through and biting at their flesh and clothes, but it was enough to prevent their demise. The Red¡¯s thundering voice followed soon after with sulfurous, bone-shaking words mangled indecipherably by hate and fury. Her ears rang painfully from the red bitch¡¯s cataclysmic voice, her mouth tasted iron, and her nose was choked with the scent of sulfur and burnt fabric. Bernard picked up the sword and helped Helena to her feet, his arm laid across her shoulders, and he beckoned her onward; they leaned on each other for balance and kept going. She could hardly recognize the handsome ranger; one eye was burned shut, and his once-tanned face was blackened, and what little remained of his brown, shaggy hair clung on in sparse patches clumped by blood. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡± he said, his voice a dry croak, ¡°Just a little further and you can use that scroll of yours.¡±, Her throat tightened and her eyes watered then, ¡°I¡ªI don''t know if I can. I''m only at the fifth circle; the scroll is one of the seventh, and¡± ¡°We''ll make it work Hellena.¡± His rough voice interrupted the oncoming lecture. ¡°We aren¡¯t making it out of here any other way¡± He paused for a moment and spoke again, his hollow voice cracking with anger and grief. ¡°We have to. For their sake, if nothing else.¡± He stood a little straighter then; a shadow crossed his now one-eyed expression and faded as soon as it came. ¡ª- They hobbled out of one of the dead city¡¯s many doors and felt the mountain shake behind them; the thunderous noise of something smashing through an entrance too small came from further up the mountain, followed by a sound like sails suddenly catching a strong wind, both heralding the approaching dragon. Bernard gently took the egg from Helena and set it upon the ground. ¡°Stick to the plan. I''ll keep her occupied; don¡¯t listen to me or the lizard.¡± He breathed deeply as he held Bjorn¡¯s blade above the egg, ready to stab and kill its occupant. Helena fished the scroll from its protective case before unfurling the old parchment and poring over its contents reverently. Narangerel landed then, her scales the color of a bloody sunset, her eyes an orange-yellow like burning coals, the edges of her wings and frills an iridescent faint blue, like hot steel, and her horns were black like basalt. Her breath washed over them, smelling of charcoal, sulfur, and wildfire, and her steps were felt more than heard. The beast before them was a grown red dragon, an angry one; her orange eyes burned with hate, and her muzzle contorted in a snarl, yet there was an air of fear or worry about her. She didn¡¯t come any closer with Bernard standing over her only egg, sword raised and ready to kill her unborn hatchling. The seconds held their breath as neither party moved. Narangerel broke the silence then, her voice like a far-off eruption and boiling water hissing on hot stone. ¡°Thieves.¡± She hissed, tail lashing, ¡°Vermin. You have taken what is mine; return my offspring to me, and I will kill you quickly. I will offer this generosity to you only once.¡± Bernard stood resolute, an anger Helena had never seen in the man chiseled itself on what remained of his face. ¡°Beg,¡± he said softly. A confused expression crossed the dragon''s face before it shifted to amusement. ¡°Beg?¡± she cooed smoothly, slightly smiling, ¡°Why would I beg to a¡ª¡± Bernard brought the sword lower and scratched the surface of the egg. ¡°BEG!¡± he cried out with his damaged voice. Narangerel seemed unsettled; the demand alone was strange, but the fervor Bernard demanded it with made the dragon bristle in an offended manner. Narangerel paused then and tasted the air. ¡°You!¡± she gasped as Bernard grinned maniacally, his burned flesh cracked in places and his good eye filled with blood. ¡°You made me beg.¡± SEVEN YEARS AGO YOU MADE ME BEG!¡± he shouted, blood mixing with spittle with each passing word. The dragon then looked increasingly disturbed, reaching her forepaws and retracting, pacing several dozen yards away. Bernard hacked and coughed before he continued, softer this time, his voice pained from the exertion, ¡°You tore their limbs. You ate them slowly, still screaming, demanding I beg; you laughed when I bloodied my hands against your hide; you laughed when you left me with no bodies to bury. You grinned as I wept while you set my home ablaze when I could weep no more, and when I asked that you kill me too, so that I might be united with them in death, you left me alone in the snow and ash.¡± ¡°But now the tables turn! Beg worm! Beg and pray I¡¯ll spare your family even after you consumed mine.¡± Helena struggled to keep focus. Bernard was never one to share his story, and of course the idiot had to start now. In hindsight, it was no surprise that he was the first of them to agree to the quest. She wrestled with the formula for the teleport spell; it had been frayed by her inattentiveness and now was likely to experience complications. There wasn¡¯t any time to go over it again; it would have to do. As Helena started reciting the incantation Narangerel¡¯s spines shot up, and her wings swept outwards to grab the air and launch herself towards them. ¡°HELENA NOW!¡± Bernard shouted as Narangerel shot forward, but the two vanished with a thunderclap, leaving only a misty afterimage slipping through her claws and escaping with their plunder. ¡ª-- Snarling with rage as flame licked her jaws and smoke rose from between her scales, the dragon slammed into the now vacant space and screamed a thunderous torrent of flame until the stone she stood on cracked and glowed. Her rage was not yet sated; she turned and leapt into the wind, catching it in her wings and riding it into the air, Andorel Keep was firmly set as the center of her rage now; she cared little that a mated pair of Silvers frequented the area; Andorel would burn, and she would dig her egg from that mewling Duke''s ashes.
Prologue 3-3 Nero Duke Nero II played his Stradivarius in a safe house; his plan had taken a long time and four teams of dumb, dead mercenaries calling themselves ¡°adventurers,¡± and it couldn''t have happened at a better time. He had already received word that the adventurers had successfully removed the egg and angered Narangerel into a warpath; surely it could have gone better, though; those adventurers disappointed his executioner greatly when none of them showed up to take their reward; Nero assumed then that they had perished of their wounds after escaping the dragon. Good. One less loose end to deal with. He was unconcerned about the egg; it was never a goal to associate with dragon hatchlings, much less disagreeable Reds. If it was found, he would likely gift it to his court wizard; gods know the man had earned it. He played his stradivarius in a somber tune for the destruction to follow, significant swaths of Andorel would burn, their position in the mountain valleys of Andor isolated them from other kingdoms trying to swoop in, and the naive pair of silver dragons, yes those who thought they could trick him to believe they were runaways from feuding houses, running from a land that didn¡¯t exist, they would be roused to protect as their instinct demanded, and to protect for the sake of their little one who could barely keep up the human disguise Silvers were so fond of, and when Narangerel died from the two Silver dragons and the ballistas on his keep, he didn''t need to be an oracle to predict the outcome. ¡°Two hundred and sixty-seven years of hoarded wealth straight into my coffers.¡± He giggled to himself, playing a series of cheery notes. It was enough to rebuild and expand, and with the dragon threat gone, it was enough to buy mercenaries in spades, enough to crush the neighboring lands and fiefdoms and make his legacy. And like an echo across time, Nero played as a city burned. chapter 1. Matthias slowly drifted into wakefulness in a very uncomfortable position. He felt himself pressing against a surface that surrounded him in all directions, like someone had tightly cocooned him in blankets. still groggy and only half aware, he tried to untangle himself only to find that his mental picture was correct. Confused then, he tried to open his eyes but shut them quickly when some wet film touched them. Confusion morphed into concern as he quickly pushed and strained, his head was racing as fast as it could in his disoriented state. Where am I? Why am I stuck? Suddenly his sheets cracked, and a strangled exclamation was voiced into the enclosed space. Now outside, his left hand felt soaked and was gently chilled by the cool air washing over it. His hand felt strange, insensitive and stiff, like he was wearing thick gloves that restricted his articulation and dulled sensation. Given the point of reference he noticed that all his limbs felt similarly, he was squeezed so tight on himself that he hadn''t noticed anything, besides their complaints from being compressed. He needed out. NOW. He pushed with his other arm and his legs and Matthias was rewarded with numerous Cracking and crunching noises not unlike a mixture of wrapping paper crinkling and ceramic shattering. His right foot made contact with a cold hard floor on its way out rotating him and whatever he was trapped in, His two arms flailed against cool air, and he guessed himself to be roughly on his back now, the sudden change in orientation caused him to twist fragmenting the rest of his prison and ungracefully plopping him onto his side against the hard, shard covered floor. His immediate impression from the now discernable signals of his freed body were simply wrong, his neck was long, his arms were pulled close to his chest and oriented directly forward of it, much the same with his ribs, He had two large things that felt like arms holding a blanket between each of the fingers of a FREAKISHLY large hand, and an appendage stretched far beyond where his rear used to terminate. He lay there for a minute, soaked in a sticky something and pressed into a cold stone floor, before mustering the courage to open his eyes. The place he was in was dark, he could feel it was dark but he could see it well. It was a cave made up of gray brown stone with a few stalagmites, or stalactites, he wasn''t sure which was which. He was surrounded by and lying on the numerous red-brown shards of his prison, and as his gaze wandered to himself his breath hitched, and he jumped. He was covered in scarlet scales with sandy colors on his underside and the bottoms of his hands and feet. He felt his face then, running clawed hands carefully across a muzzle and pointed head with strange frills on the sides, one each where he guessed where ears would be, and a small one and running down the length of his spine between two short blunt horns. It all undeniably screamed dragon to him, with the question of what answered his mind wandered then to the question of why. He had returned to his dorm last night after a party on new years eve and put on some earbuds to drown out the sound of fireworks outside. Went to bed there, woke up here¡­ Human¡­ Dragon¡­ Did someone trick me into taking something? Was it something I ate? No it couldn''t be that, I was the driver. Went to bed- This is a dream! Excited, Matthias loosed an involuntary squawk from his awkward alien muzzle. He had read about lucid dreaming and how you could do just about anything you could imagine in one; Matthias had been wanting to try, but hadn¡¯t had any luck using the techniques he had read about. Matthias had always wanted to fly although he was unsettled by heights, not a phobia really (At least he refused to label it as one), but he could reliably be found standing farthest from a ledge, or holding his seat tightly during aircraft landings. No, he wasn''t scared of heights, he was scared of falling, falling and being powerless to stop. But with these he could fly, HE COULD FLY! He moved his wings through their surprisingly large range of motion. Anywhere he wanted, this dream was HIS, nothing could stop him, he stumbled to his feet then with some instinctive intuition helping him along, and he scrabbled slowly and clumsily across the stone floor. He could feel the impression of ambient light getting stronger past the twists and turns of the cave, he passed entrances to rooms unexplored, and his confidence grew with in each step, limbs tangleing less with each passing motion, and his footfalls landing surely and solidly. He found the mouth of the cave drinking deeply from great beams of sunlight and he sped out and past the trees that girdled the cave''s mouth, and he tearing through a thicket of shrubs and brush that DARED to impede his path, he shot into a clearing and he¡­ He let out a yelp of alarm as he ground to an abrupt stop at the edge of a cliff, the mossy dirt under his tread ripping as he dug his claws to slow himself.. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Matthias could only stare slack jawed at the sight before him; Beautifull, bountiful forest stretched on and on, farther than he believed he could have seen in the waking world where the oh so cruel limitations of reality applied. Jagged snow-crested mountains semi-circled a veritable ocean of green where a clean river flowed from the mountains into a blue lake, and there by the far end of the lake and stretching down the smaller river that flowed out of it, a town of several dozen buildings. He could smell wood stoked fires and cooked meat despite the distance; His head tilted happily as he practically drank the smell from the air, and he sat on his stomach feeling the sun on his scales, basking in the wondrous warmth and feeling a gentle summer breeze brush his unfamiliar face. He was practically purring with contentment and¡­ Wait what? He brought a clawed hand to his chest and despite its muffled sense of touch he felt that he was definitely emitting a slight rumbling. It quickly stopped after he wanted it to and started again when he didn¡¯t actively suppress it. It felt weird, like suddenly being able to semi-consciously shiver. He felt a sense of unease at the alien sensation but brushed it off quickly, it was interesting but unimportant, he didn¡¯t know how long he had till he woke up. He was not going to squander his time. Matthias surveyed the land from the edge of the cliff then. The sun was low in the sky and slowly falling behind the mountains in the west, painting their white toothy peaks in orange and gold, and in the east rose a silvery half moon. The mountain''s shadow crept over the green valley blanketing forest and field in an early nightfall. He snaked his neck over the edge of the cliff and looked down at the stony face and sheer drop before stepping back several paces. He gave his wings a few experimental beats, ¡°I can do this¡± he whispered, crouching low with his belly almost touching the ground. Here goes nothing He sprung forward then in a bounding sprint with his claws tearing furrows in the soil. The seconds moved like tar, those instants between steps where none of his limbs touched the earth taunted him, they tugged at his wings and fanned a flame in his chest, they beckoned him to move faster, to kick his legs and leave the ground. With each bound he lept a little farther and faster, and on the last springing step Matthias beat his wings, cupping the air and slamming it behind and below him, propelling himself into the growing wind as he sprung off the edge of the cliff and soared above the green waves of the land below. Freedom. Matthias felt weightless in the wind, drowned in childish joy from a daydream fulfilled as he sailed through the cool air, unburdened by the worries of the waking world as it washed over and carressed his form. He felt like he could fly forever as he rose above the lush green world below him, the trees that towered over him moments before didn¡¯t seem so mighty from here, they could never hope to reach as high. The trees were like saplings and shrubs from his view, he almost felt he could reach down and pluck them out of the ground. It was a good feeling, he felt like he could hold the world in his hand; a feeling that the land below him was all a treasure that belonged to him and to him alone. Matthias hesitated slightly at the last thought, it wasn¡¯t like him to think that way, but then again this was objectively his dream, no one else would ever even see this place. He mulled over it as he dipped and rose in the wind, and after some time he accepted it as truth, this was his and only his. Matthias spent the daylight remaining roaring and screeching joyously as he flew ever higher, thundering his newfound wings to race the sun and stay in the warming light as it fell behind th- HIS mountains. He inevitably lost that race, and circled above the darkening world as stars peeked through the blackish-blue of the dimmer eastern sky. As he glided the the gnawing hunger he had ignored in his excitement redoubled its protest. He had ignored it for fear that he would wake soon. But now? He was still here, and the smell of wood-fired cooking called to him with promises of honey smoked delights. He dove and twisted his body, picking up speed and making the tips of his wings whistle in the air, only seconds later he pulled out of the dive; aligning himself towards the town by the lake. It looked so far away, but Matthias didn¡¯t mind; he loved to fly.