The Legend of the White Dragon

By EJKatz

Prologue:

For generation upon generation the tales have unfolded. The tales of a mythical hero with armour of white, a sword of gleaming gold, and a shield of purest fire, possessing eyes of the hawk, hearing to rival the bats, a gift of scenting that the wolves alone may boast, to be able to taste the smallest amount of poison and to be able to sense the existence of the enemy with only the feel of his body heat. The hero is unknown, he has no name. But every boy from the age of understanding is taught of him.

Taught the tales of Hero and his white dragon.

They are protectors. They are guardians. They are legendary.

Like all legends there is truth to be found though there has been no evidence of this for generations. The legends grew in strength but never fruition. Life continued without hope other than the escape found behind the walls of fairytales that few believe any more.

Despair is rampant, misery abounds. The people lost in the sea of day-to-day living when all they can think about is the pleasure that death brings. So they continue on, telling stories, telling the legends and praying for an ending to the endless cycle of birth, pain, wretchedness and finally, if they are lucky, death.

There is no hope left, no belief. The victims are the children of the people. They hide from the Noblemen of the City. They hide from the Great Families and pray that it is not their name called. Pray that the legends take form and bring them the promised hopes. So much that rested on those tales, those legends.

Unfortunately that is all they are. Legends that fathers tell their children. No one has ever seen a hero; no one has seen a White Dragon. Sure there have been dragons, the gelds and blues and fire reds of dragons but no white. No one knows for sure whether the tales are true or built upon a desperate need for someone, any one to help.

~*~*~*~

Story One: The Meet

The Glade

The glade was dark, not bright, as it should have been even though it was large in circumference. The location of choice for the feeding of mighty beasts. The tall trees of the forest had left this spot free of all life. Not a brush nor mushroom grew here. The heat from feeding was too great to allow for growth. The trees surrounding it towered many feet into the sky, darkening the glade by blocking the sun.

There was no sound here from fauna. Bird, crawlers and other four-legged creatures all stayed far from this unholy of places.

Wait.

Yes, there is sound.

Dear God in heaven, a child. What would a child be doing here? Why would anyone leave a small child like this, alone?

The child cowered in a nook created by two large rocks. His tiny body held in place by ropes around his ankles. His tiny heart beat triple time, threatening to break from its prison and fly away in the abject terror that consumed it. Small eyes of the deepest sapphire flashed from beneath half closed eyes. He knew why he was there. He knew the fate that waited for him. It had been taught him for the few years he'd had so far. All eight of them.

Sudden there came the sound of rushing wind and the feel of blizzard ice whipped at his face, burning into his eyes, whipping his long curls around his head. Tiny whimpered cries ripped from his throat. His eyes closed tight as he waited for the final deathblow.

He was too young to know these things but the way of the things in his world made it impossible for it to be any different.

The roar of the dragon filled his head, blocking out all but the rushing of his own blood in his ears. Hot breath brushed his cheek, the wet of a fire-fed tongue roughed the side of his face and he couldn't stop the scream that echoed through the forest before everything was lost in the black depths of oblivion.

~*~*~*~

The City, Present Day

A nobleman's son. First born at that and what did he what to do? James fought back the swell of panic as his mind returned to the memory of the tales of knighthood from long ago. They fought dragons and evil from far off lands. They were heroes and the stuff that legends were told around. He wanted to be like that.

But no, he was after all a Nobleman's son. He had to be just that. He couldn't gallivant off fighting mythological creatures and wars. That was for common folk. There was nothing considered honourable about dying in battle. Honour no longer existed in a world wrought with the shame of sacrificing children so that the few 'noblemen' can live.

James detested his heritage for that point alone. Why should he be so fortunate to be born noble when children of 'common' folk were given in their place?

In two days there would be the next draw. All the names of the children, ten and younger, from the surrounding villages would be entered in the draw. James already had plans to stop that.

His father had two sons. His brother could take his place but it was time to make some changes. Besides, when his father found out about his strange illness, he would disown James and James preferred this end to the other.

He lay back on the velvet covering of his bed and frowned. His strange problem with his senses was beginning to get to him. He couldn't concentrate on his studies, his hearing would pick up the slightest sound and distract him or else his eyes would flare in the sunlight giving him excruciating headaches that would incapacitate him for hours. And most recently, he would slip into some fugue like state and lose hours at a time. He didn't understand it but something told him that it would only get worse until the fugue took him completely.

It was with this thought heavily on his mind that sleep took him, understanding and complete contentment with his decision lightening his heavy heart.

~*~*~*~

The castle Courtyard, two days later:

The crowd had gathered before the Grand Gate where the draw would take place. James stood with his father and brother on top of the ramparts. James grimaced as the cries of the children rose to his sensitive ears. The box holding the names of the children was rolled in on the back of the cart. He could sense the excitement in his brother and even more so in his father. There was something almost sickening about their excitement. A perversity in the pleasure of others sufferings that James had never taken to in all his fifteen years.

To be amused and excited about the forthcoming death of an innocent was not something James ever wanted to experience. He wanted to be normal, like everyone else. He didn't want to be a nobleman's son or in his own turn a nobleman. He wanted to be able to do the things he enjoyed and he felt it was everyone's right to do the same.

As James watched, his body tense with the anticipation, the magistrate came out through the main gates and made his way to the cart.

The guards watched the crowd. There was growing dissention in the masses and James knew the reasons for it. He knew that the people were sick of losing their children while the children of the Great Families went on getting fat off the land.

James' eyes roved over the crowd, picking out faces he only vaguely knew. He was not allowed to wander through the countryside but on occasion he and a guard would ride their horses and James would take note of the faces of his people.

The gaunt, helpless looks he saw was the main reason he decided to go ahead with his plan. Something must be done to give hope to these poor souls. He hoped that seeing the son of a noble given in sacrifice would mean something.

He brought his eyes back to the cart and the box that brought terror to every man, woman and child gathered at the gate. The magistrate was opening the small door cut out on top and reaching in.

James eyes focussed in and read the words even as the magistrate read them, his throat working convulsively to get them out.

"James, Son of Ellis." The words were scratchy but they reached his father's ears. Ellis, son of Bathor swung his head towards his son who met his gaze. He allowed a touch of confusion to be shown, nothing must be given away here.

His father would not be permitted to change the vote, the other nobles would see to that. As well, Ellis was more than aware of the growing resentment of the people and to refuse this would be considered weak and cowardly.

Resignation shone in Ellis' eyes as they swept the crowd, no longer interested in looking at his son. Once more James knew he'd done the right thing. His father was indeed finished with him. The love he'd never felt would never be there.

"So be it!" Ellis' strong voice rang out. The crowd was whispering amongst themselves, wondering anew at the strange happenings. Women hugged their children to their breasts, father's held their women and children in relief.

James was led from the wall to be prepared for the sacrifice. His demeanour was calm, contemplative but not fearful as one might suspect.

"Why, James?" The guard on his left ask. This was Henri, a noble man born a servant. He had more honour in his little finger than Ellis ever would in his entire body. He had been with the family for his whole life and the only pleasure he got from it was learning the trade of guardsman, learning swordplay and taken personal care of the young James.

"Because it is right, Henri. Because my father never cared, not for me or his people." The boy answered. Henri watched the youngster, knowing that the mere fifteen years was insufficient for the wisdom and age found in the pale blue of his charge's eyes.

"James, surely there was another way to do this." Jason this time, on the other side. A man, like Henri, honourable but bound in servitude to a man he hated, a man who had killed his family to posses the beauty of another.

"My only regret, Jason." James told them. "Is that I can not take you with me. Free you from this life. If I could have done this another way, I would have. I will always remember your kindness to a boy who needed it much. Thank you."

A single tear escaped down Jason's face but he kept his glance forward so no one would see the pain he felt.

Henri nodded sadly as the two men marched their young friend towards the bathing chamber.

~*~*~*~

Darkness was only a few hours away but James didn't care. He sat, his back against the rocks. He watched the sky, waiting for his end. He was content. The simple white robe he wore trailed against his calves but it was itchy and he wanted to remove it.

Henri and Jason had left him here two hours ago. They had both hugged the young man tightly in farewell. They knew they would never see the young man again and the sorrow they felt was reflected in their eyes. James regretted what he had to do but it was no use. He had to do this. Something deep inside him was telling him that he had to, that it was imperative.

So, here he sat, awaiting his fate.

The cold wind blew in suddenly, rushing through the glade with ice as its harbinger. Crystals formed on the rock James leaned on. He stood; ready to face the menace that approached. Wings of great span spun the air around the glade in furies, drawing the dust of the ground into funnels and forcing James to close his eyes against the sting.

A single roar. A touch of heated breath, the flick of a rough wet tongue and the ground swallowed him whole. He knew nothing more.

~*~*~*~

Morning

Warmth. Light.

James stretched luxuriously against the cool sheets he lay upon. His mind slower to wake than his body. Hunger taunted him and he opened one eye slowly.

"Where is breakfast, I wonder?" He said softly, sitting up. He looked around.

The room was not familiar to him. It wasn't his room.

Then the memories came rushing back. The sacrifice. The dragon had not eaten him. His sacrifice was unworthy.

<<You are more than worthy, child.>> a voice was heard in his head. James spun around trying to locate the soft voice.

<<Come, a repast has been set out upon the table, join us, please.>>

The gentle words were accompanied by a door opening from behind a curtain. James warily approached, following the strange hum in his mind as it guided him forward.

<<Welcome young one.>> The speaker, still unseen indicated the table in front of him, piled with succulent temptations. A chair moved back and James found himself seated without thought.

"Who are you?"

A warm chuckle reverberated throughout the room. <<Patience, young one. We await a sleepyhead. He wakes even now.>>

Ten minutes later, James could hear the gentle beating of another coming closer. Another door opened and a young boy, not much younger than himself entered.

"Oh, you're awake." The young boy bounced delightedly. Sapphire eyes sparkled as he moved towards James. "Welcome. I am Blair. You are James. I know you will like it here. Elwaith is wonderful and you will be very happy. I know it."

It was not a question and the statement was spoken in a rush, one breath sufficient for all to be said. It brought a chuckle of delight once more from their mysterious host.

The young boy who spoke couldn't have been much older than 8 or 10 years of age. A delightful abundance of unruly curls topped his head and they shook and danced as he moved.

"Elwaith?"

<<Patience. Blair, please allow our guest to eat, then we shall indulge you in your favourite pastime.>>

"Pastime?" James repeated again, beginning to feel a little stupid with his lack of understanding.

"Talking. Elwaith teases me that I talk too much. Are you hungry. There is much to eat and I can't eat it all so you have to help me. Later we can go see Elwaith and I will show you around and…"

<<Blair.>> The reprimand was given gently. <<Eat food first.>>

Blair giggled infectiously and James found himself laughing as the two boys began to eat heartily. James learned that Blair did not stop talking, even long enough to eat. His questions about the city and the people came too quickly for James to form a reply let alone get one out in response.

Finally he pushed back his plate, his appetite sufficed and once more prepared to face the next, what ever that would bring.

<<So, young one are you ready?>>

James was unsure what to expect now but he nodded, then realizing his unseen host could not see him he responded in the affirmative. "Yes."

<<What do you know of the legends of Hero?>>

"Hero? Nothing." James, having been raised in the city and sequestered from others had never been taught the stories of the people. His father had believed them useless drivel.

"Hero and the White Dragon?" Blair asked, though somehow James knew he knew the answer to that question.

<<Exactly. Blair, James, I am Elwaith.>> The curtain at the far end of the room moved aside to reveal a large chamber, lit by brilliant sunlight. In the centre of this chamber stood an enormous Dragon, white and pure as innocence itself.

<<Welcome, Hero!>>

Part 2

Stories