Fated Stranger
Chapter 1
“We demand that action be taken for the murder of my mother and kinsmen!” Zirgorth, son to the ruler of the wyverns, demanded—pounding his tail roughly against the marbled floor to actuate his fury. The darkly scaled wyvern was barely an eighth the size and heft of his father, but he held enough power to cause the castle halls to tremble in protest under the weight of his anger.
Rodric, monarch of the Tuatha Dé Danann, studied the fearsome creature before him. Zirgorth was the size of his strongest stallions and would only grow larger as time passed. As characteristic of his bloodline, he bore dark scales the color of the midnight sky that no iron could penetrate and eyes the color of blood. Large, deadly spiked sat upon his head like that of a crown and clustered together at the base of his tail. It wasn’t the armor of scales or the poisoned spikes of his tail that made Zirgorth or his brethren dangerous, though. No, that was their fearless ferocity that allowed them to charge against an enemy whether they stood to win or not.
“While the death of your lady mother and companions is tragic and regrettable, taking action against the mortals now will only incite more violence. Not just against the remaining members of your clan, but the kinsmen of ours as well.” Dirvonel, queen to the dragons, responded calmly. When compared to Zirgorth, it was easy to understand why wyverns and dragons were often confused for one another.
Both had wings but unlike Zirgorth, Dirvonel had four legs instead of two. Her scales were white as snow and just as strong as Zirgorth’s, and her eyes were as blue as the ocean. She lacked the cluster of poisonous spikes on her tail and crown of her head. Instead she had two large horns on either side of her head and was nearly three times the size of Zirgorth. Whereas wyverns were almost careless in their battles, dragons were known to be more patient and analyze the possible outcomes. A dragon would not enter a fight that it had no chance of winning.
“You fear the mortals?” Zirgorth sneered, baring teeth the size of small daggers. “They have no power outside large numbers.”
“That may be true now,” Rodric interjected. “But they are a race that continues to move forward in the ways of weaponry. Not to mention that their mages are growing more skilled with each passing year. Who is to say that a time will not come when they will build a weapon strong enough to pierce even the hide of your great father, Lord Zirgorth?”
“Why should they be given the chance to make such advancements? We are greater to them in all aspects, they should be serving us! Worshipping us!”
“I don’t think that you have grasp the full meaning of my words, Lord Zirgorth. What the mortals lack in power they make up for in fear and hatred. Giving them a reason to fear us—to hate us—will give them the motivation to find a means to destroy us.” Rodric stated stoically. With such temperamental creatures plaguing their daily existence it was hardly a surprise that the mortals took to killing the wyverns, Rodric thought to himself quietly. It was surprising that the mortals were able to kill Zirgorth’s mother, though. The young wyverns’ scales wouldn’t harden against iron until their third year of life, when they transitioned to juveniles. While dragons’ and wyvern’s scales are stronger than any known substances, they were not without their weakness. The underbelly of the beasts were just as soft and vulnerable as the skin of mortals. Which begs the question, was this information something that the mortals happened upon? Or had someone supplied it to them?
“And you think doing nothing, and allowing them to continue to hunt my kinsmen is going to prevent their fear? Tell me, Rodric, what of the mortals’ greed? It is not just my people they will hunt. Soon they will grow bolder from the deaths of my kin, and turn their sights on the riches they can gain from the deaths of yours.” Zirgorth growled, his tail twitching about like that of an agitated cat’s.
“By no means did I say that we would allow this to continue, but we do it in a way that preserves the peace between all the clans and mortals. We do not know the mortals who have committed this act of violence against your clan, Lord Zirgorth. Therefore, until we can determine who the culprits are, I will have my strongest mages place protective wards along the perimeters of your territory and that of your homes for both the wyverns and dragons. Once we have captured those who have killed your lady mother and kinsmen, they will be turned over to your father to decide upon the punishment.” Rodric promised.
“This is the decision of the council?” Zirgorth growled. A soft murmur of agreement moved through those gathered, which seemed to please the wyvern. “I see,” Zirgorth answered, almost gleeful, “My father felt that this would be the outcome of the council. I was told that should you choose to act like cowards, and avoid a war with the mortals, I was to inform the council that the wyverns will withdraw from the treaty agreed upon nearly five centuries ago. If you will not aid us in this matter, we will view all those present and their kinsmen as enemies. The time for peace is over!” Zirgorth announced, spread his wings and took off through the open hole in the roof designed for the dragon and wyvern representatives.
Silence echoed almost painfully until Rodric spoke up, his voice calm and strong. “Lady Dirvonel, I suggest you return home to inform others of your court of this troublesome news. Should you need, I can dispatch my mages to place up the protective wards I spoke of earlier.”
“There is no need for that, my kind host. My kinsmen can erect such protections. I will send word once I have reached my domain. Please rest assured that it is my desire to remain an ally to this court as a member of the treaty. While the wyverns have been reckless enough to evoke the consequences of war against the mortals and your court, we are not yet so foolish.” Dirvonel inclined her head before taking off in the opposite direction of Zirgorth.
Rodric pinched the bridge of his nose. Every few months a meeting between the three heads of the different clans was held in order to maintain peace and order among them all. When the wyverns had demanded an audience with himself and Dirvonel, Rodric had been suspicious of the reason, but he never dreamed that such events would occur. It wasn’t a secret that the wyvern resented having been forced into peace half a thousand years ago, Rodric had just thought he would have more time before this happened. The events seemed almost too perfect and he was left to wonder if the murder of the wyverns was a ploy by Cythiros for an excuse to begin this war. If this was not Cythiros’ doing then did that mean the mortals were moving against the clans? Would he need to defend against not only the wyverns but the mortals as well?
Striding over and throwing open the doors of the council room, Rodric turned to the guard and ordered, “Summon my generals and my sons. Tell them bring battle plans and strategies; have someone bring me the latest maps of the lands; place extra guards at the quarters of my wife, daughters, and other foreign guess we may have; tell the mages to strength the wards, and tell the guards at the gate and checkpoints to tighten security.”
“Yes, sire!” The young man whose name Rodric hadn’t bothered to learn ran off.
Rodric strode back into the room to plan for war.
Rodric, monarch of the Tuatha Dé Danann, studied the fearsome creature before him. Zirgorth was the size of his strongest stallions and would only grow larger as time passed. As characteristic of his bloodline, he bore dark scales the color of the midnight sky that no iron could penetrate and eyes the color of blood. Large, deadly spiked sat upon his head like that of a crown and clustered together at the base of his tail. It wasn’t the armor of scales or the poisoned spikes of his tail that made Zirgorth or his brethren dangerous, though. No, that was their fearless ferocity that allowed them to charge against an enemy whether they stood to win or not.
“While the death of your lady mother and companions is tragic and regrettable, taking action against the mortals now will only incite more violence. Not just against the remaining members of your clan, but the kinsmen of ours as well.” Dirvonel, queen to the dragons, responded calmly. When compared to Zirgorth, it was easy to understand why wyverns and dragons were often confused for one another.
Both had wings but unlike Zirgorth, Dirvonel had four legs instead of two. Her scales were white as snow and just as strong as Zirgorth’s, and her eyes were as blue as the ocean. She lacked the cluster of poisonous spikes on her tail and crown of her head. Instead she had two large horns on either side of her head and was nearly three times the size of Zirgorth. Whereas wyverns were almost careless in their battles, dragons were known to be more patient and analyze the possible outcomes. A dragon would not enter a fight that it had no chance of winning.
“You fear the mortals?” Zirgorth sneered, baring teeth the size of small daggers. “They have no power outside large numbers.”
“That may be true now,” Rodric interjected. “But they are a race that continues to move forward in the ways of weaponry. Not to mention that their mages are growing more skilled with each passing year. Who is to say that a time will not come when they will build a weapon strong enough to pierce even the hide of your great father, Lord Zirgorth?”
“Why should they be given the chance to make such advancements? We are greater to them in all aspects, they should be serving us! Worshipping us!”
“I don’t think that you have grasp the full meaning of my words, Lord Zirgorth. What the mortals lack in power they make up for in fear and hatred. Giving them a reason to fear us—to hate us—will give them the motivation to find a means to destroy us.” Rodric stated stoically. With such temperamental creatures plaguing their daily existence it was hardly a surprise that the mortals took to killing the wyverns, Rodric thought to himself quietly. It was surprising that the mortals were able to kill Zirgorth’s mother, though. The young wyverns’ scales wouldn’t harden against iron until their third year of life, when they transitioned to juveniles. While dragons’ and wyvern’s scales are stronger than any known substances, they were not without their weakness. The underbelly of the beasts were just as soft and vulnerable as the skin of mortals. Which begs the question, was this information something that the mortals happened upon? Or had someone supplied it to them?
“And you think doing nothing, and allowing them to continue to hunt my kinsmen is going to prevent their fear? Tell me, Rodric, what of the mortals’ greed? It is not just my people they will hunt. Soon they will grow bolder from the deaths of my kin, and turn their sights on the riches they can gain from the deaths of yours.” Zirgorth growled, his tail twitching about like that of an agitated cat’s.
“By no means did I say that we would allow this to continue, but we do it in a way that preserves the peace between all the clans and mortals. We do not know the mortals who have committed this act of violence against your clan, Lord Zirgorth. Therefore, until we can determine who the culprits are, I will have my strongest mages place protective wards along the perimeters of your territory and that of your homes for both the wyverns and dragons. Once we have captured those who have killed your lady mother and kinsmen, they will be turned over to your father to decide upon the punishment.” Rodric promised.
“This is the decision of the council?” Zirgorth growled. A soft murmur of agreement moved through those gathered, which seemed to please the wyvern. “I see,” Zirgorth answered, almost gleeful, “My father felt that this would be the outcome of the council. I was told that should you choose to act like cowards, and avoid a war with the mortals, I was to inform the council that the wyverns will withdraw from the treaty agreed upon nearly five centuries ago. If you will not aid us in this matter, we will view all those present and their kinsmen as enemies. The time for peace is over!” Zirgorth announced, spread his wings and took off through the open hole in the roof designed for the dragon and wyvern representatives.
Silence echoed almost painfully until Rodric spoke up, his voice calm and strong. “Lady Dirvonel, I suggest you return home to inform others of your court of this troublesome news. Should you need, I can dispatch my mages to place up the protective wards I spoke of earlier.”
“There is no need for that, my kind host. My kinsmen can erect such protections. I will send word once I have reached my domain. Please rest assured that it is my desire to remain an ally to this court as a member of the treaty. While the wyverns have been reckless enough to evoke the consequences of war against the mortals and your court, we are not yet so foolish.” Dirvonel inclined her head before taking off in the opposite direction of Zirgorth.
Rodric pinched the bridge of his nose. Every few months a meeting between the three heads of the different clans was held in order to maintain peace and order among them all. When the wyverns had demanded an audience with himself and Dirvonel, Rodric had been suspicious of the reason, but he never dreamed that such events would occur. It wasn’t a secret that the wyvern resented having been forced into peace half a thousand years ago, Rodric had just thought he would have more time before this happened. The events seemed almost too perfect and he was left to wonder if the murder of the wyverns was a ploy by Cythiros for an excuse to begin this war. If this was not Cythiros’ doing then did that mean the mortals were moving against the clans? Would he need to defend against not only the wyverns but the mortals as well?
Striding over and throwing open the doors of the council room, Rodric turned to the guard and ordered, “Summon my generals and my sons. Tell them bring battle plans and strategies; have someone bring me the latest maps of the lands; place extra guards at the quarters of my wife, daughters, and other foreign guess we may have; tell the mages to strength the wards, and tell the guards at the gate and checkpoints to tighten security.”
“Yes, sire!” The young man whose name Rodric hadn’t bothered to learn ran off.
Rodric strode back into the room to plan for war.