Authors: Carmella Jones
“You’re welcome . . . But you two had better pull your own weight! Don’t think I’m giving out handouts due to your lack of judgement and common sense!” she said. “I mean, I always wanted to be a grandmother, but this is ridiculous! You’re springing this on me out of no where!”
“I’m sorry ma! I didn’t mean to!” Ralph said, excusing himself rather lamely, but he was just glad that his mother accepted them. He hadn’t expected things to be so easy, but then again, seeing as his children were almost killed by the dragons, he could see why his mother was quick to jump in to the rescue for them.
“No problem! I will pull my weight, I swear!” Kayzer said, giving his new mother in law a hug. “Thank you for letting me keep my family!”
“Everyone deserves to have their children be safe,” Mae said softly, returning the hugs of both of the boys and smiling. She was just glad everyone was home. She could tell the boys had been through a lot, and though she wasn’t necessarily in favor of their decisions, she was glad they were home safe and sound . . . Even if it did mean the headcount in her home was going to be three more than she was used to. The thought of having a big, happy family mitigated her worries.
Deep Dragon Desires
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Chapter 1
Time was a thing that Rasenth rarely concerned himself with. To a being over one thousand years old, time was an impermanent and arbitrary concept for the most part. However, now that two hatchlings were added to his tribe, and food was becoming scarcer than ever in the Madrigal mountains, the clock was ticking.
Ice capped mountains were a paradise for ice dragons in theory. Challenging an ice dragon in their home environment was akin to committing suicide, and only wind dragons could manage to fly sufficiently alongside an ice dragon in the perilous icy gusts, and so ice dragons were completely protected from enemy barrage when in their icy fortress. However, they couldn’t feed on the ice that protected them, and mountain goats were becoming ever rarer, as were human caravans passing through.
Rasenth felt the desperation of the situation ever growing, and he increasingly started to look towards the fertile fjord to the south. Sometimes he’d spend hours looking at it--surveying it. He had to find a way to overtake it for his clan.
On such a night when he took to looking out from his icy cave to the fertile land of the south, he heard a strong female voice come from behind him. “What are you thinking, Rasenth?”
It was Lyshara, the second most powerful dragon in the clan, and the “big sister” of the lot. She took care of the domestic affairs, and was the chief aid for Rasenth in procuring food for everyone. She was also the only one brave enough to approach him while he was so obviously lost in thought.
“That I should kick you out of the cluster of caves my chambers resides,” Rasenth replied bitterly, growling lowly. When he got no response, a silence fell upon them for a time, but if he were to tell his plan to anyone, Lyshara was a good candidate. “I was thinking about the history of the clan.”
“Oh?” Lyshara asked, taking tentative steps towards him. Her hair was cropped and spiked up, the whiteness of her locks making it seem as if frost was growing from her head. She certainly wasn’t the most beautiful, but she was strong enough to earn her keep, and even Rasenth’s respect.
“When I was only a few hundred years old, just finished growing really, the clan occupied the valley. No one had to go hungry there,” Raseth said. “Unfortunately, we had three elders in our clan, and disputes broke out about who belonged as the alpha. Then, during a sweltering summer, the Inferno clan drove us out to the mountains, and the clan split up in all different ways.”
Lyshara took a few steps closer to Rasenth, so she could look down on the fjord as well. For her, she felt safe in the mountains. Even an ice dragon on an empty stomach could fend off any attackers without issue here, but she could tell that Rasenth wasn’t of the same mind as she was on that issue.
“That fjord is indefensible, and the summers are too warm for us. We’re safer here,” Lyshara said.
“We can be safe from enemy claws, perhaps, but when we’re nothing but scales and bones, safety won’t seem as important,” Rasenth said, making Lyshara wonder what exactly they should do. Winter was upon the fjord, so overtaking it from the fire dragons would be possible, but maintaining it would be a different question altogether, and that’s what gave Rasenth pause. “The question is how we can take the fjord’s resources without having to defend it come summer,” Rasenth said, half to himself and half to Lyshara.
“Maybe we don’t take the fjord at all, but we work out a trade with the Inferno tribe?” Lyshara proposed. The Frost clan was a very wealthy clan, and if the Infernos wanted to trade or barter, it was possible for a relationship to prosper between them. The only problem was that most of the Frost’s wealth was holdovers from Rasenth’s youth, in which he was an adventurous dragon, happy to pillage anything in sight. Now the wealth wasn’t exactly pouring in anymore, and the Frost’s would have to find a new source of wealth to tap into if they wanted the relationship to last.
“That’s fine to start, but it would be hard to keep up, unless you want to start pillaging. It’s a dangerous enterprise, but not impossible if you want to try it,” Rasenth replied.
“We’ll find a way,” Lyshara replied. The least they could do is try to meet up with the Infernos and strike some sort of deal.
“I wish I could be as optimistic,” Rasenth said quietly. “Go now, I am tired,” he said, and Lyshara followed his order. Tomorrow, they could visit the Inferno clan, but there was nothing to be done tonight. So Lyshara retired to her chambers, and Rasenth to his. He rose earlier than anyone, however, and he set off towards the fjord.
Chapter 2
Rasenth flew from the mountains in his fierce dragon form. He was a large dragon, unrivaled by size by any in his clan, and only matched by one of the fire dragons that he was going to meet. His body was nearly covered in lethal weapons to use in combat, and that was all notwithstanding his powerful freezing breath. Along his back were razor sharp spikes of ice going from the crown of his fierce head to the base of his mace ball tipped tail; on his pointed face a pair of curved, scythe shaped tusks of ice on either side of his mouth, and row upon row of fearsome teeth. Then, of course, his jagged icy claws that could hold anything fast in their grip unless Rasenth chose to let it go. He was an elder dragon, a creature to be feared. However, even as an elder, he recognized his vulnerability moving into enemy territory by himself, and so once he was about a mile from the territory that the Inferno clan claimed for itself, he changed into his vulnerable human form and approached the grounds cautiously, trying to send the message that he came in peace.
Some sentries in their dragon forms caught his approach and flew down, but they were both adolescents who could easily see that they shouldn’t pick a fight with the man in front of them--not to mention he gave them no reason to. So, they turned into their human forms as well and approached him.
“Why are you here, Rasenth?” a boy, probably no older than fifty, asked. He was a spring chicken as far as Rasenth was concerned, but he was coming here on good faith, and so he would have to conduct himself respectfully.
“I would like a council with Tazour,” Rasenth replied. The two sentries shot each other a glance, as if asking what they should do in this situation. Rasenth waited a moment, but they seemed flabbergasted. It was quite obvious they weren’t used to having an ice dragon in their midst.
“If you would like, I will remain here until you can make contact with Tazour and tell him that I request an audience,” Rasenth said. “I would like to speak with him about a trade agreement,” Rasenth said, as he figured that would pique Tazour’s interest.
“How can we trust you by yourself here?” one of the sentries asked, a bit skeptical of leaving a powerful ice dragon in their territory.
“Because if I did try to attack, your clan would easily be able to kill me. I’m alone, and your clan has twenty dragons--five of them full grown and one an elder, if I recall. I would have no chance,” Rasenth replied, and his point was duly taken. The two sentries flew off to talk to their elder, and Rasenth sat down on the snow powdered grass and allowed himself to relax and enjoy the cold until the sentries returned.
“Tazour says you may come, but he doesn’t want you in your dragon form,” the younger of the sentries said the Rasenth, and he simply nodded and continued his approach while the sentires ascended and began circling the skies of their territory.
Though it was a rather long walk, Rasenth entered the village of the Inferno clan and was lead to the wigwam of Tazour.
In his wigwam, Tazour was sitting cross legged, his back to the entrance where Rasenth was standing. In front of him was a large branch which he was skillfully carving into a ornate ornament. It was a hobby he had taken up in the last two centuries which allowed him to focus his energy, and to keep his infamous temper under control. Tazour was a creature whos fury was best left sleeping, if one wanted to keep their life.
Rasenth stood at the entrance until he was invited in, and frowned when he saw there was a fire in the center pit of the dwelling. Too much heat made him feel rather ill, not to mention weakening him. Then again, considering he was a possible enemy, that was in all likelihood done on purpose.
For the moment, Rasenth pretended not to be bothered by it, but he was somewhat surprised when he saw Tazour facing away from him. He thought it spoke a little to the famed arrogance that Tazour was known for--which was only second to his strength. Still, Rasenth was not going to let himself be stalled by the strange welcome, and so he took his seat across from Tazour after bowing briefly in respect. He allowed Tazour the first word, of course, as it was only right to allow the owner of the dwelling to have the first word. Rasenth was at Tazour’s mercy in a way, though he would endeavor not to show it. A little respect was still very much warranted though.
As Tazour elegantly swept his carving knife back and forth along the wood, his biceps bulged and retracted. It certainly showed off his powerful arms. Even in human form, Tazour was dangerous. He has a large man, with a well a robust phsyique, but it showed many of the scars from battle. There were scars running along his arms, his back, and one very prominent one on his face, which he wore proudly.
Tazour was a dragon of few words, and that was the way he had always operated. He wasn’t one for idle chit chat, and even with another clan leader, he was blunt and straight to the point. Such attitude may have been considered rude, but Tazour was a dragon of war. He was a warrior. Diplomacy was not his strong point, he simply fought to protect his clan and rarely acknowledged negotiations. He was stubborn that way.
“What do you want, Rasenth?” The chief asked coldly, merely taking a moment from his carving to push back a few strands of brittle red hair from his eyes. His head was shaved at the sides, and his hair was entangled in dreadlocks which ran down to his shoulders. He certainly wasn’t a neat, well kept man, but he did his job well, and that was all that mattered.
Rasenth was quite the opposite of Tazour, being a tall and lean man. His muscles weren’t nearly as impressive as Tazours, though still refined and toned. His hair was a silky white mane that went halfway down his back, but was typically tied back out of his way in a pony tail. Where Tazour was rough around the edges and clearly a no nonsense chief, Rasenth’s demeanor was much more tamed. He was cold and calculating, to be sure, but if he inspired fear, it was not because of his physique.
“I’ve come for a simple offer to trade. Elk are migrating this season, and I would like to ask permission to hunt some for my tribe, or if you’d prefer I don’t encroach upon your land, then I would buy them directly from your people,” Rasenth said, as it was evident that Tazour’s clan wasn’t a wealthy group of people, though they got along all right on the land. Rasenth assumed that his people would be happy to see a little commerce in their village, or at least that was what Rasenth was counting on.
"If you can't sustain your tribe, then maybe you best get up go somewhere you can survive. Your starving clan is of no concern to me," Tazour replied, still not even giving Rasenth the grace of looking at him. As far as The Inferno chief was concerned, he looked out for his own dragons, noone elses. If they starved and died, that was their problem, not his. He had no real desire for riches. He felt more pride in having land, and his tribe happy and safe. They had all the food, water and space they needed to thrive, and that was all Tazour cared for.
“I plan to soon, but circumstances prevent me from leaving right now. If you we could make a deal for just five years, I will leave for a better hunting ground,” Rasenth said. He couldn’t travel with the two new hatchlings just being birthed. Moving around hatchlings was a risky business, as they were quick to fall ill at the slightest exposure to germs, and they were very fragile until their hard scaled could develop, so Rasenth couldn’t move his clan at the present time. “It wouldn’t be any loss to your tribe, and having a treasury wouldn’t hurt,” Rasenth added. He really hoped Tazour wouldn’t deny him such a simple request, seeing as it would be a season of plenty for now, considering the migratory patterns of the elk.
“Are you forcing me to repeat myself?” Tazour snapped, finally abandoning his carving and standing up. He turned around to face Rasenth, his amber eyes glowing red with the reflection of the fire, and Rasenth would be seeing red if he continued on his quest to push for a trade. “I’m not concerned with your misfortune. The elk will be in our lands, they will not be yours to touch. If you need food, look somewhere else.”
Rasenth frowned at Tazour’s response, not afraid of Tazour’s temper but certainly not happy to be treated so disrespectfully. “Very well, Tazour,” Rasenth said, rising. He was already planning to somehow get revenge, but at present he knew he should leave. “Thank you for entertaining my request, at the very least.”
With that said, Rasenth left, walking out of the chief’s wigwam while debating on whether he should freeze the source of the river that ran through Tazour’s land. After all, the spring for the river was in Rasenth’s territory, so he could wage a war of resources if Tazour was going to be unreasonable about agreeing to trade. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as he came across a boy getting water from the very river he was thinking of freezing as he walked back to his own territory. The boy looked familiar, like perhaps he had seen him during one of the negotiations among the Inferno and the Frost tribe, but Rasenth couldn’t place him right away. He was a limber looking omega with a very familiar scent, yet still his name and his standing was a mystery to Rasenth.
The boy, himself, seemed completely lost in his own little world as he gathered up the water in his barrel. He was tall, and quite lean and toned. His head was shaved at the sides, much like Tavour’s, but it was put into a ponytail with a side fringe towards his right eye. The barrel was pretty much full at this stage, so he picked it up and began walking back to the village. He didn’t even see Rasenth at first. He was just walking, minding his own busy, when his clumsy co-ordination kicked in, and he tripped over a large jagged rock. The barrel went flying into the air, and it’s contents tipped out over him, the ground, and even managed to get onto Rasenth.
The embarrassing incident made the boy panic. He scrambled to his feet, picking up his now empty barrel and looking up at the elder, his eyes filled with guilt and his cheeks as red as lava.
“I am so, so sorry!” Syrenth squeaked, and he wasn’t too sure what to do. He would have made a fire to help dry the man off, but he didn’t want to make things any worse, so he just waited to be scolded by the elder. The young dragon had no idea who this man was, tribal affairs were not much concern to him most of the time.
Rasenth didn’t even know how to react when he was drenched in the water at first, but seeing Syrenth’s reaction and how upset he was, Rasenth just laughed. “Don’t worry about me. You’re going to freeze if you don’t dry off, though,” Rasenth said, taking off his jacket, then using his powers to freeze all the water on it and then slap the thin layer of ice off so it was at least pretty much dry. Being an ice dragon, he didn’t mind being soaked in the freezing weather, but he doubted that Syrenth was very comfortable. Rasenth always was happy to help the younger dragons, even if he was cold with most everyone else.
“I’ll be fine. It doesn’t take me long to warm back up,” Syrenth replied, smiling up at the elder, and feeling relieved he wasn’t going to be told off for this. He certainly was a meek one, but that was to be expected considering his status. Not to mention, Rasenth could only imagine that his father certainly wouldn’t have been happy to hear he was soaking people. Granted, when the young dragon watched Rasenth freeze the water and brush it away, he was honestly taken aback by it. He didn’t have much contact with any of the ice dragons, so he hadn’t really been given the opportunity to witness their powers.
“You’re an ice dragon?” He asked, a little shocked by the discovery. Syrenth knew he sensed something a bit off about the energy around Rasenth, though he could have chalked that up to his being an alpha more than anything else. Even with this knowledge though, he wouldn’t be driving the man out. The relationships between the two clans were rocky at best, but Syrenth rarely took heed of such things. He wasn’t interested in politics. He would much rather have some fun, and finding out more about another dragon kind was fascinating for him.
“Yes. We are neighbors, after all. I’m a bit hurt you don’t recognize me. I come to visit your father often enough. Perhaps he’s never particularly happy to see me, but I do come to visit,” Rasenth replied. “I’ll introduce myself, though. My name is Rasenth, leader of the Frost clan.”
“You’re the… the leader? Oh right... okay... oh…” Syrenth stuttered slightly. He had just soaked the leader of the Frost clan. Really? He felt even more embarrassed. The dragons of the stars must be pulling at his tail right now, because he had some awful luck.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Oh wow. I don’t really pay much attention at my father’s meetings. Umm… Hi, I’m ah… Syrenth, but, you can call me Sy.”
“It’s nice to finally get to talk to you, Sy. I’ve seen you around often enough,” Rasenth replied. “I unfortunately just had a less than satisfactory meeting with you father, so I apologize in advance for the mood he’s probably in.”
“Well, your timing certainly hasn’t been great. Father is never in a good mood this time of year,” Syrenth replied, a little more calmly this time. “It’s usually best to stay away from him, at least until the next season.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time to spare in regards to what I needed from your father, but he wasn’t the most sympathetic. Typical, I suppose,” Rasenth replied, but considering how readily Syrenth was speaking with him, Rasenth thought maybe he could bypass Tazour using his son. That would be risky, but not totally out of the question.