After editing TWICE myself, having my older cousin edit it once, having my aunt proof-read it, and having my editor edit it, I am finally ready to post my
finalized Prologue to my first book. Enjoy!
Tarterrior: The Rise of the Sixth Kingdom
Prologue
The emerald trees rocked gently in the soft flow of spring’s silver zephyrs. The humid air hung in the atmosphere as grey clouds rolled across the horizon; spring’s first showers were on their way. Mordin laughed as he crawled and jumped through the secluded glade outside his uncle’s thatched hut. His blue eyes danced as he chased the small animals that called the glade their home.
A dragon of only seven, Mordin was barely growing into maturity. The spikes on his back were just coming in, and his wings were not developed enough to carry his small, crimson body more than a few feet forward. He even—but only on occasion—coughed out small bursts of flame that marked his body’s development. He thought this new ability shocking and exciting, and found endless joy in practicing his fire spitting on small logs and animals. The flames were not large enough to do any real damage and would wither and die quite rapidly. All the same, though, his brother and uncle watched him carefully from the hut’s porch as they engaged in hushed conversation.
Zech, Mordin’s uncle, was a tall, brown dragon whose face showed a resolute understanding of the world in which he had lived for eighty-nine years. Tarterrior was vast, and it was rare to find someone who knew as much as Zech, and yet he remained modest and humble. Mordin’s brother Griff, on the other hand, was eighteen and restless. He lived faithfully under his uncle’s protection and listened to all that he had to say, but he was not without questions. His muscles rippled beneath his red skin, which showed worn signs of stress. His orange eyes flashed as he talked with his uncle under the dark shade of the hut’s porch, not bothering to hide his worry.
“I just don’t find it worth my time, uncle.”
Zech watched Mordin as he practiced sneaking in the tall grass. His eyes were glazed in thought, and when he spoke his voice was controlled and quiet.
“It is not a question of whether it is worth your time or not, Griff. You are bound tightly to it, and there is no turning away from that. It is in your blood; it cannot be changed.”
“But it shouldn’t have to be me,” Griff remained calm even in his pressured state. “It should be his responsibility. My father—”
“Is dead,” Zech cut Griff off abruptly, “and you are next in line. So it is a matter of your decision, not your father’s.”
Zech paused for a moment and heaved an exasperated sigh. Griff gave his uncle a curious look and watched as his solemn eyes glinted. Turning to Griff, Zech asked his nephew a question that had been tugging at the back of his mind for quite some time. “Griff, what is it you plan to do? Do you wish to exterminate it before it falls into the clutches of Greilner? I know you have been anxious about the idea, but it would not take as long as you think: only four months at the most.”
Griff hesitated. He turned his head to the clouded glade and watched his brother laugh joyfully as he caught a small bird. Time passed between the two dragons in thoughtful silence as Griff pondered his uncle’s question. He folded his arms and leaned back in his wooden chair as he sighed deeply. The years without his father had affected him severely and he tried to cover it up by acting firm and decisive. But a decision this large was almost unbearable. He turned to Zech.
“I’ve been thinking about it for some time uncle, and wonder if it would be a smart decision to keep it here, hidden.”
Zech gave a relieved smile. “It would, indeed. I have been hoping that you would make such a choice when the time came. Trying to destroy it would bring unwanted attention from Greilner, and it would prove most difficult to complete such a tremendous task. Keeping it here on the edge of Valdak Canyon—a deserted place—is a wise verdict; it would take much searching on Greilner’s part to find it. Better to bring no attention to it at all.”
At this, Zech placed his hand on the small table that sat between them. On it sat a crumpled piece of parchment, torn slightly on the edges and yellowed with age; a relic of time. Griff looked to his uncle. He was staring at the parchment with concern. Griff knew that he needed to keep it hidden. He knew what was important.
He looked up. Mordin had been sneaking through the grass until he was at the foot of the porch. Griff chuckled. Mordin was getting good: neither he nor Zech had heard him. With a grin on his small face, Mordin pounced playfully at Griff’s feet. He rolled on the floor of the porch and carelessly clawed the air while on his back. ‘Poor kid,’ Griff thought, ‘all this going on and he has no idea what’s happening. But that’s the way we decided it to be. The less he knows, the less chance he has of getting hurt.’
Mordin continued playing for a while, then stopped abruptly. He turned to his brother.
“Big brother? What’s wrong,” he asked innocently, “What are you going to hide? I bet I can find it!” He laughed and looked at Zech; his eyes drifting to his uncle’s hand. “Is it that paper?” he asked. “If it is, that’s not a good hiding place. I can see it, silly.”
Griff turned to Zech and cleared his throat. Shaking his thoughts away, Zech looked to Mordin and saw him eyeing the parchment. He smiled at his younger nephew warmly and moved toward the door, parchment in hand. As he opened the old wooden door of the hut he gave one last look to Mordin. Then he disappeared inside.
Mordin looked at his older brother, a question on his face. “Is he hiding it now, Griffy? When can we go look for it?”
Griff tensed as he lifted Mordin onto his lap. He decided to talk simply so that Mordin would understand. “Little brother, Uncle Zech is going to hide that paper where no one can find it, understand? It’s not supposed to be found. So, we’re going to play a game. The first one to find the parchment loses, got it?”
Mordin nodded and smiled. He liked games, but he still wanted to know something. “What happens if someone finds it then?”
Griff looked at the grey thunderheads rolling into the glade. A sudden, cold wind gave him a slight shiver as he held his brother close to him. He wouldn’t lose another family member. Not again. He stared intently at the clouds and answered in a quiet breath.
“Let’s hope we never find out.”
