The Ancient Elementals Book One: Sky Dragon

Whirlwind of Information

“You.” He stated, bending down and grabbing her hand in a motion so quick she couldn’t trace it and left her dizzy. He pulled her to her feet, straightening her up and then looking her over.

“Interesting.” He scanned her so impertinently she felt herself blush, then grew angry at herself for blushing and him for staring. Who did this rock man think he was?

“Thank you for your service. You are no doubt excited to make my acquaintance, but let’s move on from that for a moment. Who reigns? Whose blood line are you from? Speak up.” He started stretching, bending back and forth and looking around at his surroundings. He seemed to be disappointed with what he found, but then brought his eyes back to her.

“Well?” He crossed his arms, expectant. 

“Well...what? I’m sorry, I just...you came out of. A rock.” Her words were awkward and stilted, she struggled to form full sentences. “A rock. You. Out of it. How?” The tall man took mercy and answered her strangely phrased question.

“Yes, a rock. Disgusting, suffocating stone. Not a breath of air.” A dark expression flitted across his eyes, but then was replaced once more with nonchalance. He continued.  “You should know how best of all of course, it was you who released me. Your blood pact.” He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “By the way, do young ladies no longer wear pants, or is that a personal choice of yours?”

Alya made a strangled sound and crouched low to the ground to cover herself. She was still in her underclothes from wading in the pool! Hurriedly, she opened her satchel and pulled out her trousers, her face burning as she rushed to put them on.

“I’m sorry the...the what pact?” She tried to move on as if it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her. The man squinted in confusion, a hint of a frown on his brow now clearly winning over his calm.

“Answer my questions girl.” He sounded serious all of a sudden, his levity gone. “Who reigns? From which family do you descend?” He was right in front of her again and grabbed her by the shoulders as if to shake the answers out of her.

“I...reigns? The capital leaders you mean? The noble House Committee. Now I guess the head of the committee is from House Xua, but it changes every so often. Two years ago House Maran was the committee leader, but five years before House Zayed led. But all the houses take their regions needs into account and decide together so...they all reign a bit, I guess. And I descend from...my parents. Viol and Crandon Brighton.” Alya was hoping this answered his questions, but the man frowned even more at her answer. This was not what he was expecting apparently. 

Alya was afraid, but her fear was beginning to be smaller than her anger. She pulled away from his grasp and limped farther from him. “And who are you exactly? What devil comes from a stone speaking gibberish and making demands?” She raised her voice to give herself more bravery, but she heard it shake at the end. She kept her eyes straight and steady though, and for that she felt grateful.

The man ignored her. He began pacing, rubbing the back of his neck and surveying the room once more, even more unhappy with what he saw. A dark expression completely overcame his strong features. His jaw clenched tightly. Even in anger though, Alya was baffled by his looks. He was easily the most beautiful person, man or woman, she had ever seen. As if his creator had carefully hand selected each trait, taking pain that they all went together harmoniously. His bronze skin, clear complexion, bright eyes under a strong brow, not a scratch or scar to be seen despite exploding part of the mountain moments ago...he was almost alien, not human, in his perfection. She stared at him, keeping anger in her expression, hoping he couldn’t read her thoughts. It didn’t matter if his looks were that of an angel, she was determined to keep a clear head. And that meant standing her ground, glaring, and trying not to gawk too much. It was a difficult task, but luckily he wasn’t interested in her at the moment, so any inadvertent ogling went unnoticed. 

Instead of answering her, he held his hands out and looked closely at his palms as if it was the first time. He clenched his hands into fists, standing stock still. He released a breath, unclenched and remade his hands into fists. He almost seemed to hold his breath with effort as he looked at his hands. Finally, something in him seemed to break, and he released a guttural scream of rage. It seemed to create a howling wind, and Alya braced herself against the chill that swept through her.

“Traitors.” He hissed. He raised his hands and closed his eyes. Alya felt something grow in the air. What was once still, then became a small whistling of a breeze. Her hair began to flutter in her face, and she turned around. Where was this wind coming from? Alya knew that this deep in the mountain, with no exit nearby, there should be no movement of air at all, much less what felt like a building storm on a summer evening.

She turned back to the man to question him. Although standing in the same spot, he seemed to be exerting a tremendous amount of energy concentrating on something. Sweat  was beginning to bead on his forehead, and he then thrust his hands out in front of him as if calling to something to come to him. The wind picked up so hard, Alya’s clothes were flapping wildly, her hair whipped around her face, and she saw rocks begin to circle around the man in an impossible cyclone. “What the devil...” Alya started, but her voice was drowned out. The man’s face unreadable through a mask of severe focus.

Then, he fell to his knees, and it all stopped, rocks scattering all around him like hail. 

“What are you?” Alya breathed out, barely audible. She was clenching her fists so hard, she felt her fingernails digging into her palms so deep she thought they would bleed. 

He didn’t seem to notice her question. “What has happened to me?” Alya heard him whisper, the pain in his voice palpable. He looked up at her, then, and seemed to make a snap decision. 

“You,” he started, getting quickly to his feet, and Alya took a few more steps back. Why she wasn’t running, she didn’t know. She felt at once terrified, but at the same time, dying of a need to understand what had just happened. Her curiosity was going to kill her it seemed. 

“I need to fix this. And whether you understand or not, you’ve entered a blood pact with me, and you will help me.” He seemed resolved, but that didn’t help Alya’s confusion one bit.

“What do you mean, ‘blood pact’? I’m not the kind of person to dabble in sorcery, and as far as I know I never...” she stopped. Her hand. It had been bleeding when she touched the symbol. 

“Alright, yes, my blood touched that...whatever it is, but that is no concern of mine. I agreed to nothing. I don’t know who or what you are, and I owe you nothing!” She did her best to sound assured and confident. But on top of being apparently able to control the wind, which was terrifying in its own way, the way this man looked was truly unsettling her resolve. She felt understanding for the first time for the giggling girls at the market, swooning over the objects of their affection. She used to look on with disdain, their affection stoked by a man’s hair or height. It seemed trivial and ridiculous. But now she felt she have been too unsympathetic. The look of this man was enough to strike anyone dumb. She felt ridiculous, overcome by an otherworldly feeling of strength and power in his every gesture. Were her knees weak? A bit, she was angry to notice. Not to mention, again, he seemed to call on the wind like one might call to a loyal pet. Fear and awe had her in their grips, and she shook her head to refocus. ‘Get yourself together!’ she internally berated herself. 

The man shook his head too. “You don’t understand. It isn’t an agreement that can be entered or left. Look at your hand. 

Alya raised her eyebrows in confusion, but looked down and slowly examined her hand. Where once there had been an ugly gash from slamming her hand down in anger, there was now smooth skin, as if it had healed years ago. There was a scar, the skin lighter than the surrounding. But even stranger was the shape of the scar. The symbol, swirling like her head.

“That symbol is a part of you now. You offered your blood to me, releasing me. Now, you are bound to me. Even if you don’t want to, you must. If you leave me, go too far away for too long, you won’t live more than a day. Our life blood is connected unless I release you.” His speech finished, Alya felt baffled. And enraged.

“Then release me!” She shouted, her blood boiling. “How dare you take advantage of an accident. I basically bumped up against you and now I owe you my service? Or I die?” Her voice rose, but she kept her anger in check best as she could. No matter her feelings, she didn’t need to incite him to cause another cyclone.

“It is unfortunate that you aren’t a more willing participant, I agree,” he said mildly, looking at her with some measure of pity. “But fact of the matter is, you need to help me to become your own person again. And I need you to fulfill my mission.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Alya burst out.

“To reclaim my throne as King of the Dragons.” He said simply, as if she was foolish for not guessing it already. He turned away from her and started walking out of the room he had basically obliterated.

Alya stood completely still for a moment. Then, she turned and hurried to follow him. His glowing had continued, and he acted as a torch. She could see they were following a long tunnel. 

“I...I mean, you...dragons...there is a throne. King...” She trailed off, struggling terribly. She was at a loss and her sentence forming suffered embarrassingly, again. She tried once more.

“Dragons? You mean the fire breathing, scaly kind? From children’s tales? Are you insane?” Alya truly wondered. Maybe this man had been trapped here because he was unwell and no one wanted to deal with him? She had accidentally freed some magical lunatic. Fantastic.

“I don’t know which children’s stories you speak of, but I can confirm that some races of dragons breathe fire, although I always thought it a bit overkill. And there are scales, of course. And no, I am not insane. Though if anyone could have a right to be, it would be me. How long do you think I’ve been trapped here?” He spoke quickly, walking forward through the winding tunnel briskly. Alya rushed to keep up with him, wishing to be away from him while also knowing she would get completely lost without him. Also, she could apparently die if she separated from him, so that was another thing to take into consideration.

“I’m sorry, but, there are no dragons. At least, not that I have ever heard of or seen. The only dragons I know of are in fairy tales!” Alya insisted, but this man didn’t seem to take much notice. They came to a cross section of multiple tunnels and he immediately took the third from the left. He seemed to know exactly where he was going.

“Perhaps more time has passed than I realized.” He said thoughtfully. “Before I was...put here, all humans knew of dragons. You are a human, correct? No dragon ancestry I take it?” He glanced at her, sizing her up briefly, then continued around a bend. 

“Of course I’m human. Aren’t you? You look human...kind of.” She mumbled the last part, but he seemed to have heard, as he chuckled darkly.

“Oh no. This form is...temporary. Whoever betrayed me has seen fit to not only imprison me unjustly, but also trap me in a human form with barely any access to my powers.” He sounded furious again, gritting his teeth and spitting out every other word. Alya carried on speaking. She didn’t want any more vengeful screams from him anytime soon, at least not when she was worried he might start a land slide or cave in. Let him rage once they were out in the open, she thought.

Her breathing was becoming uneven, and it was getting more difficult to keep up with his pace on her bad ankle. But she pushed on. She felt fueled by her damned curiosity again.

“Who trapped you? And...why? Are you a prisoner because you did something wrong?” Alya felt the questions tumble out of her, she couldn’t hold back. When she saw the look of hatred he briefly threw her way, she wished she had tried harder to shut up.

He whirled on her, leaning down with his face much to close to her own. She held her breath. 

“My imprisonment had nothing to do with anything I did wrong, and everything to do with the traitorous actions of others.” He growled at her, his eyes looking even more inhuman. Too much black. He pulled back, turned to keep walking, and kept talking. “How much do you know of your dragon fairy tales? Were there names? Popular stories?” 

Alya thought a moment. She had always been more interested in books and stories revolving around plants and their uses. She hadn’t been one for fantasy, but reality. But she did remember her father telling her a tale about dragons that she liked, mostly because the illustrations he had made were so lovely. His mother had been an expert at creating medicine from the plants they collected, and while her father was no slouch, he truly excelled at creating paints with all the colors of the forest. He would tell her stories, then create images so lovely they filled her dreams. The land dragon tale had been her favorite, as it was the dragon that helped plants and nature grow and thrive. 

“There is one. About how the dragons of sun, sky, sea, and land were a happy family. But the other dragons grew jealous of the land dragon, as she had all her human friends who loved her and praised her the most. So they tried to kill her and take her human followers. But the land dragon was so powerful and just, they couldn’t win against her, and she banished them, never to be seen again. And the humans rejoiced, praising her forever more. Maybe there are more stories but that’s the one I know. It’s fairly common.”  She had been speaking for some time, and only now she noticed that the man before her was silent as a grave. 

“Does that help?” She asked hopefully.

“Indeed,” he marched on in silence the rest of the way, in and out of tunnels like he lived there all his life, until finally it felt like they were actually moving in an upward direction. Suddenly, she began to see natural light in the distance, and felt a light breeze ahead of her. Soon, they were exiting the dark tunnel, and they stood on a precipice overlooking the forest. There, way down below, she spotted her house nestled in the clearing at the end of her path. She sat down, relief washing over her. She was exhausted, and so incredibly glad to be out of the dark.

The man stood there, and he seemed to have closed his eyes. He was breathing, his arms slightly out at his sides. He was no longer glowing, which was a relief to Alya. After a moment, he spoke.

“What is your name?” He wasn’t looking at her, his face away from her and eyes still closed.

“I’m Alya,” she answered, “Alya Brighton. Will you finally tell me who you are?” 

He gave a mirthless laugh, then turned back to her. 

He raised his arms and a whirlwind appeared out of nowhere, carrying leaves and flowers, dust and small pebbles, racing around Alya and him with speed that took her breath away. It swirled in the air as if dancing all around, then he lowered his hands and it dispersed just as quickly to dead stillness.

“I’m Vega, the sky dragon,” he said matter of factly, “and you are going to help me kill my sister, the land dragon. Let’s go, shall we?”

Alya giggled. Then promptly blacked out.