2. Darkness
Ever since their land had become Christian the McLean family had vowed to fight evil. All the old traditions had been banished from their colours, banners, hearts; and their souls had been blessed by the church, which as going to save them in exchange for their service. It was even easier for said church; the McLeans believed with such blind passion, that they’d even been told heaven was already theirs. It was their divine right to kill evil in the name of god.
The dragons of their former proud history had become their ultimate enemies. Why would they accept those hideous creatures in their world? They belonged to the devil; they were filthy sneaky beings that wanted nothing but the world of the Lord to disappear. The McLean males had been taught the way of the sword and the path of blood and death. They strongly believed that if followed in the proper way, glory and honour would descend upon them.
Mr. Robert McLean had been reading at the books containing the history of his forefathers for the hundredth time in his lifeline. Denise had been feeding their last born child, Alexander; and the house was full of excitement and good omens. The Litrells, their fellow friends and scouts had informed them of dragon sightings in the surroundings of their feud. The anticipation of the battle always made him grin and hope for it to be a good one.
“We’re done here, Bob.” Denise told him as she stood up and their son burped. Robert had looked at him, patted his back and then lifted him, making his son giggle. “My boy,” The man grunted as he put it back on the floor, “my finest boy, Denise.” He continued saying as she hugged him from behind, “my finest of them all.” His last words lasted in the woman’s heart and filled her with pride. Denise was his third wife, Alex his fifth son and yet, he had treat them as if they were his first. Laughter, theirs, filled the room.
“Father!” A man roamed into the room, earning his father’s disapproving look. Jacob withdrew as soon as he felt the older man’s on him and despite being the tallest in the household, he felt small. Robert McLean hated being interrupted when he was sharing some time with his family, whether new or old. Jacob stuttered as he tried to explain himself, but was soon pushed out of the room, “the dragons! They’re by the mountains! Near the river bank!”
A smirk had taken shape on the old man’s face. Robert forgot about his wife and son and walked with his oldest son. The halls of the place separated Robert’s life as a family man from his life as a dragon slayer. Living the life he had lived had allowed him to know himself better. He was in his fifties at that time, and his sons Jacob and Patrick were already on the field accompanying him in his hunts; younger twins Samuel and David were still taking their lessons and would probably be ready any time soon. “Dragons.” He muttered, stepping faster and leaving his son behind, while Denise and Alexander observed them until their shapes disappeared at the end of the tunnel.
“McLean!” The grave voice filled the air while all the men congregated in the weaponry turned to look at its owner. Jerald Richardson was standing there, his single axe clasped in his right hand, the left hand resting on the head of the sword hanging at his waist. His long dark hair covered his eyes, and as he tossed his head back to get rid of the strands, he started speaking “Two dragons! Male and female!”
“Where?!” Robert rushed to the other and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him so that their heights matched and only they could hear each other. It was the worst timing he could think of. Dragons near his land could only mean doom; they also meant they had to clean said land of any form of evilness, for his new family was there, spending that precious spare time with him. A whim of an old man, he thought.
“Near the river bank on the east side...where the dwarves live!”
“Say no more nonsense Richardson! Dwarves do not exist! And if they did, they could only be of the devil itself!” Robert cried loudly while hitting the nearest table, making dishes full of roasted chicken and beef jump in the air to fall back, the cups with ale fell on their sides, their contents spilling across the table, before the cups fell clattering and rolling on the floor.
“What time do you want us to leave?” Richardson asked, unmoved by his friend’s outburst, but ready and excited about the battle to begin.
“Tonight, Jerald.” The man put his arm on the other’s shoulder, “tell the men to be ready, we’re hunting tonight.”
Maids and squires were running from one place to the other; from the east wing of the old mansion to the west, all of them clenching their fists, for it never mattered how much their masters loved to go to the battlefield, their were always casualties. Physicians from across town had been already summoned to the McLean manor and were expected to arrive at any time. The day had not entirely died and the light had already been shunned outside the place. Torches and candle lights had started to burn and children had been sent to their wet nurses to be taken care of.
Most of the servants from the house believed in God, just like everyone else in the town, but it was also true that they believed in the old traditions of their ancestors. The Church preached that anything created under the sky belong to God and that it was good, because God had decided to rest on the seventh day of His creation, and it was so fine, that God permitted their existence. Dragons included. For many centuries, many of those same servants had been at the service of the families of the dragon slayers. It was not what they wanted, but need made them do the unthinkable; even go against their own beliefs.
The house of the McLeans was the darkest in the region. There were no reasons for their hatred, and that what was said, was always about God and His holy righteousness. However, some people said that the house reflected the soul of its inhabitants. The windows of the place where made of iron and the thickest glass that could be found in the land. They were needed that way, it could protect anyone inside the house from any attack they might have suffered from a dragon. Still, protection had robbed people of the light of the sun, whose light had to struggle with all its might to get in and warm the place. The only heat in there came from the smoke from the kitchen fires and the great hall fireplace, each person, whether servant of nobleman, would find his own.
There were shields representing the different times in which the men of the McLeans had lived. Their heraldry bore the head of a dragon on it, representing the first dragon which had been killed by one of the family’s ancestors two centuries ago. It showed the trees that protected the manor and below it, a river, the one that separated this land from the northern territories. When someone entered the house, they were always impressed by the amount of memorabilia that was to be found there. Swords and spears carefully arranged on the walls. Other shields belonging to their fellow families, old metal coats which had protected those who had died long ago.
The manor had a halo of severity around it. The place was cold and grey and it carried with it the fear and blood thirst of many people who had inhabited there; the fear of the women who had for centuries lost those who they had loved and the blood thirst of the men and the whole family always congregated around the art of slaughter. And at that, the McLeans and the Richardsons were masters. But they were not the only ones there.
Ugly bearded men were scattered everywhere, exchanging wicked, untrusting looks. Not only was the place inhospitable, friendship was never rewarded nor was it appreciated in the household. Treachery was a hobby of old Lord McLean and Lord Richardson, but they already known that about each other and would never dare attempt to cause harm to either one of them. However, regarding Robert McLean and quoting great Caesar, he would regularly, arbitrarily execute those he would consider traitors, claiming to love treachery, but abhor traitors. That was the real McLean and such was the confusion in that wicked home. So, henchmen had to betray one another with some sense of style and secrecy to please Lord McLean, always careful not to overstep whatever rules the old man had set for the game.
This same behaviour was one his family was familiar with and yet allowed others to experience. When Denise had become part of the family, McLean’s older sons had remained silent, waiting for the woman and his little son to suffer the same fate their mothers and sisters had lived. One by one, they had been accused of treachery. Old McLean had one day claimed they had betrayed him, breaking their vows to him and their sacred marriage and they all had once been beheaded. So had their little daughters, to prevent their wickedness from tainting the world of men any further. It had all happened because the McLean women had once tried to protect a little dragon that was agonising in their land. That had been their sin, because even when women could fully support their cause, women were weak, mothering beings that would contradict themselves and bring a curse upon men.
Robert McLean was in his trophy room disserting on his current life as everyone else prepared for the battle. It had been just a few years since he had fallen for a new woman who seemed to have a heart made of gold. He had loved her from the very first time he had set eyes upon her, and in no time, he had made Denise his beloved wife. Sooner, he was telling himself, Alex had been born, changing his life for good. He had set new rules for the child, raising him closer to him than he had ever done with the others. Alexander James McLean was his pride. Robert also believed that just like his other children, Alex would grow up to be a dragon slayer, would fulfil his destiny as such and of course, he would take over the house. The young McLean men, held their colours high, and their own trophies had already started to take their place in the room. Claws, heads, teeth, even wings and tails, all pertaining to dragons were there.
“It is time.” Jerald interrupted him from his thoughts.
Robert grinned swinging his double axe on the air.
The dragons belonged to the hierarchy amongst them. It was not something people would know during those days, but it was something that those who clung to the old times could and would still recognise if only they allowed themselves; however, fear was spread among them. Anyone familiar with a dragon; would be excommunicated from the church and that was a risk nobody was willing to take.
People did not like to go near the mountains because they were afraid of the beings who lived there. No matter how hard priests and other men of God had tried, the inhabitants of that region were still afraid of the ugly wrenched dwarves who lived in the mountains and guarded the dragons. Superstition had proven to be stronger than faith, and it made the desire of many clans of dragon slayers to work harder in order to prove to the good Christians out there, that dragons were nothing but an instrument of evil if not the devil itself.
As the men marched to the mountains, Alexander and his mother observed them from the wing of the house where they lived. The little four-year old child followed his father and older brothers steps as they disappeared into the horizon.
“Alex?” Samuel and David, his other brothers called him from the door as soon as Denise stepped out of the room to give instructions for dinner that night, “we’re going to follow them, wanna come?” Samuel asked, looking everywhere to be sure that no one was listening to him.
“Follow them?” Alexander responded naïvely, then walked to them. His room despite being one of the largest on the east side was also scarcely decorated, lacking the magnificence of the rest of the house. Being a child was solely the excuse for that, for his father had already told him that one day, that very room wound become his own trophy room. Alexander knew that was something he wanted to do one day. To be as strong as his own father was. The infant nodded as soon as he reached his older brothers and looked back, trying to imagine what it would be like to have the head of a dragon hanging on his wall. One like the one his father had showed him just a couple of nights before from one of he journals of their fore fathers. “Let’s go.” Alexander said.
Alexander had to realise he was not as fast or as strong as his brothers. It did not really matter that they were a decade older than he was, he wanted to be like them, for he had seen them holding swords and axes; had seen them fight and spill each other’s blood. Samuel and David felt the same way about Jacob and Patrick, the oldest among the McLean children, though they had no idea their younger brother could feel like that; but it was also true that no one knew Alexander that well.
Samuel took Alexander’s hand and the three children walked along the corridor and to the stairs in the back of it, looking for the passage that would lead them outside the house. Alexander was afraid, but at the same time, the excitement he felt was much more powerful than his own fear. He thought of Denise and did not run back to her, for it was time to prove to his brothers that he was brave. The darkness that had started filling the house since a few hours before was overwhelming and that was what he found truly scary. Walking the corridors and safe passages of the manor with nothing but the single light David was carrying with him, was taking them longer than they had expected, for it was new for all of them.
Once outside, the children realised it was not as dark as it was inside the house. Samuel as the older among the three nodded to the other two and signalled them the way to the mountains. It was the same path Jacob had taken before when he had returned to the house and Samuel had been watching him. David and Alexander followed them in silence.
By the time they reached the others, the battle had already begun. Alexander had never seen a real dragon in his life and despite his father being tall, the size of the dragon was breathtaking. “That’s a male!” David yelped, trying to keep his voice for the three of them, after all, they did not want to be discovered by the others. The dragon was overpowering them, since they could see that Lord Richardson lay near them, an ugly wound open in his chest. The mark of the three fingers of a dragon paw was carved on his flesh; one of his own sons was trying to stop the blood, but it seemed that his efforts were useless.
The dragon was too tall for them to tell where its head was, but as the animal growled and bared its fangs, they could see it. David backed up in fear, and fell on his butt. Samuel turned to see him, noticing the adolescent had peed in his pants. He tried to reach for his brother but the sounds of swords striking tough dragon scales, made him freeze.
On the battle field, the dragon was swinging its tail from side to side. Patrick was attacking it and had managed to sink his broadsword into the dragon’s tail, making it roar with outrage, and attacked them with the ice that came out of its huge maw. Behind him, a female dragon was also fighting. She was trying to keep them away from her hatchlings. They had to protect them, no matter what. It did not matter if they died trying. Örn pulled his tail with all his strength and freed it, allowing him to swing it once more, the sharp edges of it, hitting Patrick, opening his chest with it, throwing him with such force to one of the trees around them, that the boy fell dead on to the ground.
“NO!!” Jacob McLean screamed making Robert take notice of what was happening. The man did not flinch when he saw the dead body of his son far from him, but it invigorated him, and he threw himself against the dragoness, who responded with her tail as well.
The animal growled furiously when she saw a handful of men throwing themselves against Örn. It made Svana react, but holding herself back when she did. When Örn looked at her, she understood; the dragoness opened her mouth and allowed the fire born inside her to billow free against their enemies. It had been at that moment when Örn covered his head with his wings to protect himself from Svana’s fire. The men who had stayed far from him took advantage of that single movement to bury their own swords in the part of the dragon’s head that was left unprotected. She roared wildly this time, anger taking control of her.
David and Samuel had finally found their own strength and ran back to the house while Alexander remained behind some bushes, hiding without uttering a single sound, his eyes opened in disbelief as he saw the slaughter happening there, his young mind not able to comprehend just yet. He noticed the dragoness was staring at the spot where he was. The child felt for a second she was going to attack him, and he had meant to run for his life, but when he finally found the courage, he fell flat on his stomach. When Alexander lifted his head, he found seven eggs before him. One of them was cracked open and he found a footprint on the small baby dragon who had died because of the weight on him. It must have been David or Samuel, he thought as he stood and took the other eggs, moving them to the nearest tree.
Svana growled yet again, she swung her tail against those few who were near her and proceeded to attack those who were fiercely stabbing Örn. She could only see the red bloodstains staining the pristine white of Örn’s brilliant scales. Svana saw him fall and roared in despair, exposing her chest and opening her wings menacing the humans; but the dragoness could not have anticipated Robert’s next move and did not see him as he jumped and sank his double bladed axe into her chest falling as the vicious blade tore the resilient flesh open.
The dragoness felt she was about to fall, but found the strength she needed to stand up again and fight back. Robert was glaring at her, hatred and blood thirst shining in his eyes. However, he saw in her what he had never seen in another dragon, determination; and for a second, it made him doubt his next action, and it was precisely that second which Svana took advantage of to attack. She swung her tail and turned her whole body against the man, as he fell, she pierced the flesh of his thigh with the sharp tip of her tail, the scales burying deep until they skewered the limb. The man growled this time, and cried in pain, making Alex shiver from where he was. The child saw the scene as if it were happening in slow motion as the dragoness opened her mouth and boiling fire rushed out of it, covering Robert’s writhing body.
Alexander cried in desperation. He ran to where his father and the dragoness were and stood there, throwing pebbles and other small rocks at her so that she would free the man. It was too late, though. No matter how hard the child tried it would not make any difference. Robert lay dead, pinned against the ground by the dragoness scales. “Let him go!” He cried and as he did, Svana turned to look at him, so small and defenceless, yet, she had been hurt, and her family had been destroyed, they deserved no mercy.
Svana stood on her back paws and opened her wings one more time, scaring the boy. He saw her in all her might, her chest bleeding profusely as the wound was open and was too deep. Alexander fell backwards again as she opened her mouth and roared on his direction.
“Lady Svana!” a voice cried out, making the dragoness turn to look at the dwarves who were coming to her aid. Alexander took advantage of that distraction and tried to run, but a dwarf, one with pointed ears stood before him warning him, “If you dare move, dragon slayer, you shall die today.” All Alexander could do, being a child as he was, was to remain there and listen as other dwarves moved quickly. He saw one with a cane taller than he really was and he heard them chanting. He saw a light glowing and the next thing he knew, all the dragons and dwarves had disappeared.
Alexander fell on the ground and tried to come closer to his father, but because of the flames that still burned it was too hot for him to step any closer to him. The child fell on his knees and started to cry, swearing he would avenge his father’s death.
It was already nightfall when people from the house found him there, alive and not crying anymore, among the dead bodies of McLeans and Richardsons.
On to 3. Adversaries