Ancient Home - Part 2

     "Hatched"

     Fwhoo . . . Whishh . . . . Grenth glided in a lazy circle over the summit of the highest mountain in Tyrannia. The Camouflage Skeith's variegated greys would allow him to easily hide among the rocks and foliage on the ground, but now, here, he shone brightly against the blue sky and puffy white clouds. Of course, there was no need to hide. It was a special occasion after all, and dragonkind from all over Neopia had travelled here for the big event. Draiks, Krawks, Scorchios, Shoyrus, Dragoyles, Cyodrakes and others wheeled and dove joyfully as they caught the air currents in a fascinatingly colourful dance with their wings.

     A loud low-toned bellow rang out and called the members of the council to gather. Grenth dipped one wing slightly and began a long, slow descent until he landed on the large plateau at the mountain's base. Not all the dragons landed, only those that were voted to represent their species as members of the dragon council. All the others, excited to see today's outcome, continued to whirl and soar above, awaiting the big pronouncement.

     Grenth landed beside Sarlei, the Desert Scorchio delegate. Together they paced to the meeting place, a large cleared area with a tall pedestal in the centre. Atop the platform, resting in a soft bed of grass, leaves, and hay, was an egg, a very special egg. More than thrice the size of a normal egg laid by the largest dragonlike species, its glistening surface was smooth with swirls of colours that gleamed like marble. The last time such an egg had been seen was a hundred years ago when, at another meeting just like this one, the dragon council had chosen their last leader. No one knew which species would become the face of their new ruler. A Scorchio or Skeith, perhaps? If chosen, so it must be. And now, here they were, gathered at the hatching of their next ruler.

     The egg had been found by chance days earlier and was carefully placed on the great pedestal. A Darigan Chomby, who had just landed, stopped and stared open-mouthed. "Wow, I've never seen an egg that big before." He looked around him and spotted the Scorchio in front of him. "Sarlei, is that the size of your Scorchio eggs? It's huge!"

     "Not ours," she replied, grinning. "Although, ours do have that bright mirrorlike surface. Ours are beige though, not white, and they're nowhere near this big."

     "Ours always come out white all around." The Chomby shook his head as he contemplated the egg. "But, they're not shiny like that, and they don't have those coloured lines going through it."

     Henra, the representative for the Draiks, tilted his head to one side as he examined the rarity. "It looks a bit like a Draik egg." The Marble-painted Draik stretched his neck forward to get a better view. "Not the size nor the colour, but something about the shape looks familiar."

     "It appears to me that this egg possesses at least one characteristic of all our eggs, all mixed together," Grenth commented as he, Sarlei, and the other dragon representatives took their places in the large circle surrounding the pedestal. The Skeith's place was across from Rathnew, a Darigan Grarrl warrior, who was accompanied by his Mutant Grarrl son, Kilbad, and who selfishly wished for nothing but total control over the territory where they all stood.

     "When the new Grarrl leader takes over, then we'll see what leadership really looks like." Rathnew boasted as he slammed the ground with his tail. It's going to feel so good to put some of these weak, sniffling excuses for dragonkind in their place. He stomped his foot with a large fake smile. His son sighed, chagrined.

     "And just what makes you think the egg's going to hatch a Grarrl?" Tyne, a magma Shoyru, took his place next to Rathnew. "It's past time a Shoyru took over the leadership. The Grarrls have already served twice in the past millennium." None of you have the slightest notion of how to really lead. A Shoyru will—praise the skies.

     "There's a reason why the Grarrls have been so blessed." Rathnew bared his large, sharp teeth as he plodded toward the smaller Shoyru, but was held back by his Mutant son.

     "Don't. The Shoyru's only trying to bait you." Kilbad stared down at the Shoyru council member, with his head tilted back in disdain.

     Rathnew threw off his son's paw, but he heeded his son's warning and turned back to face the egg.

     Other dragons grumbled and tried to claim the new leader for their clan, but they quieted as Marliten limped toward those gathered, a tall crook aiding his balance. Few had seen him over the last decade, and the councillors were astonished by how far he had declined. He was only slightly shorter than a Scorchio, which was rather large for a Krawk, but his figure was hunched over as if it were difficult for him to carry its weight. Many said the ancient White Krawk, his scales dingy and more grey than white, no longer flew. But he still wore his customised white wings; like the rest of him, they looked aged and worn out, the edges beginning to fade and tear. The only thing bright and shiny about the Elder was the small gold circlet he wore about his brow. As he ambled forward, his head drooped further toward the ground, and more than one councillor winced when they saw his ribs sticking out from his extremely thin frame as he sluggishly took his place. Even when standing idly, his body rocked rhythmically to and fro.

     Naturally, all dragons now were taught their history, for once not too long ago, there was an age of wars constantly being fought between the dragon factions. Some of the battles were so ferocious, and there were so many casualties, that it was feared if the wars continued, some dragon species would disappear from Neopia completely. So, they formed the dragon council. Originally, it consisted of the elders from each faction, but eventually, that changed to representatives being voted on by their genus. History told them that Elder Marliten had been made council leader at his hatching one hundred years ago today, but no one really knew what that meant. None of those present, aside from the White Krawk himself, had been present back then. In fact, he was currently the oldest living dragon by more than a decade.

     No matter what happens, no leader could possibly be worse than a Krawk, Rathnew thought, watching the Elder slowly make his way to the circle. One hundred years old, and he looks every one of them.

     Rathnew's attention was drawn to his left when a scuffle broke out between the eventide Krawk delegate and the Petpet representatives, a Dragoyle and a Cyodrake. Even though the two were significantly smaller than the Krawk, it was soon apparent that they didn't fear the larger dragon, for they might well be able to beat her in a fair fight.

     This could prove to be entertaining. Rathnew wished he could wade in and beat them all, but he let the warrior Petpets have at it, at least to appear mildly reputable himself by not chiming in. Even if I can't join in, maybe I can still affect the outcome. "Pex, she's weak on the right," he growled to the electric Dragoyle, then watched as Pex took advantage of his opponent's weakness as the Grarrl suggested. "That's it. Now come in from above."

     The dragons to either side moved closer to watch the fight, looking for an excuse to join in. The flyers above shouted their encouragement to the brawlers.

     A short bellow stopped them in their tracks. The call came from Marliten and was a warning not to press their luck lest he blast them with his fire breath (although these days no one believed he could muster up much of a flame at all). "That is enough!" He pounded his staff forcefully on the ground. "There will be peace at this gathering."

     All the dragons obeyed, a couple rolling their eyes, and returned to their places surrounding the egg. Elder Marliten slowly met each councillors’ eyes until he reached the last delegate in the line. Then, the White Krawk banged his staff on the ground, three times. "This is a special gathering of this dragon council. It will also be my last." He stepped forward and stroked the egg with his paw. "Once this egg hatches . . . ." The leader smiled sincerely as he moved his paw over the smooth surface. "They will be your leader." Marliten took a step back and turned around at a glacial pace to look at each dragon as he spoke, his eyes boring into them. "It does not matter what species this blessing will be. They will not be the leader of just their own kind, but of all dragonkind. If you are wise, you will accept this and not try to gain supremacy over them, but allow them the chance to make the choices concerning how you will all go forward."

     Finished with his work, Marliten lowered his head for a moment, then reverently removed his golden circlet and gently placed it in the nest next to the egg. He slowly turned away, then retreated towards a distant cave. Tack, tack, tack. His crook commanded the tempo with a cringing metronome. Everyone watched him go, nothing but puzzlement on their faces. They were left with the least animated conversation they'd ever had with the leader.

     Finally, Kilbad stomped forward. "Is that it? Is that all this meeting was for? What was the point?" He shook one large fist in the air as he said what most were thinking. "How will we even know when this blasted egg is supposed to hatch?"

     Rathnew harrumphed as he stepped forward and laid a paw on his son's shoulder, glaring at the departing leader. "You can't expect anything better from a Krawk!" I'll be glad to see the last of that pompous idiot.

     Suddenly, the Eventide Krawk, Irreid, darted across the circle, baring her teeth and snapping at the Grarrl. "I have heard enough of your disparaging remarks concerning my species, Rathnew! Take it back now, or pay the consequence." Her customised wings quivered with her fury.

     Rathnew laughed in her face, his wings quivering in anticipation of a fight. "And what consequence would that be? I don't see any army to back you up." Go ahead, Irreid. Give me a reason to wipe you out of existence. Sneering from behind him as they flew, the Dragoyle and Cyodrake taunted Irreid.

     "Why you—"

     There was a loud snapping sound, almost like thunder. Everyone stopped and looked around. Crack . . . Kshh! Tyne pointed at the egg where a wide split had just appeared. "It's hatching!" The Shoyru shouted in excitement, watching it rock wildly from side to side—a tough egg for certain. He ran toward the egg, his eyes wide, but was careful not to get too close. The others inched forward and watched as yet another fracture appeared in the shell.

     A soft tapping sound was heard, followed by a loud whack! Suddenly, the egg heaved, and the shell separated in half. A small Striped Draik female fell out and lay panting in the nest. Naturally, compared to all the other dragons present, any Draik would be considered small, especially a new hatchling, but this newborn didn't look like a hatchling. She was only slightly smaller than a full grown Draik, and her wings, tail, and ears suited her size perfectly.

     All the dragons flying overhead cheered and soared as they rode the wind in celebration. The council on the plateau remained quiet as they stared in awe.

     Rathnew was the first to step forward . . . He bowed to the new dragon leader. "Hi, little one. I am Rathnew, the leader of the Grarrls. It is so nice to make your acquaintance." His hands were unsteady, and his claws wiggled in exhilaration. "You will need an advisor. I am happy to serve you in that capacity."

     The Striped Draik raised her head to look at him as if he were something speared by one of her claws. "I am Freilian, your leader." Surprisingly, her voice was soft and feminine as she picked up the discarded circlet, placed it on her head, and then curled her tail around her body. "I thank you for your offer."

     "My pleasure." Rathnew took a step back. She won't know what hit her. He hid a cunning smile behind one paw. Once I start to school her in her duties, she'll be totally under my control.

     Tyne elbowed his way to the front, brutishly for a Shoyru his size. "If it pleases, m'lady. I am Tyne, head of the Shoyrus." He nodded to the newly hatched Draik, who was already taller than him. "If there is any way that I can serve you, please know you have but to ask. I'm sure you must have a lot of questions about your duties. Perhaps we could—"

     Irreid grabbed the Shoyru's arm and pulled him back. "Give someone else a chance." The Krawk delegate turned toward Freilian as she pushed Tyne out of the way. Irate, Tyne grabbed Irreid's tail and yanked her right back. She bared her teeth at him, and the two began to fight in earnest. Using one large leg, Sarlei barged in to kick them both out of the way to take their place.

     "M'lady, my name is Sarlei." The Desert Scorchio took the moment to curtsy most properly. The leader, pleased with her introduction, bowed her head gently to the delegate. "I apologise for the rudeness of these uncouth fools. I am sure you must be hungry. If you wish to hunt, there is a band of ruffians in the valley on the other side of that crag. Or, if you prefer, you can send one of these dimwits to fetch you something."

     Freilian studied the dragon before her, then nodded slightly to her. "Thank you." She unfurled her striped wings and, with barely a flap, was airborne and flying toward the valley.

     Only Sarlei and Grenth saw her leave, as all the others were either fighting their neighbours or rooting for one. They glanced at each other and just shook their heads. Whenever one of the combatants got too close, they kicked or threw them back into the skirmish, but otherwise, the two refused to join in the melee.

     It was Rathnew who first noticed that Freilian was gone. He had just chucked his opponent into others. He growled loudly in victory, then checked the nest to make sure the new leader was suitably impressed. "Huh . . . ?" He stomped over to the nest, his eyes searching for her. "Where is she? Who took her?" he demanded at the top of his lungs.

     "She went hunting, Rathnew." Grenth spoke so softly that the Grarrl warrior had to strain his ears to hear.

     "Hunting?" Rathnew glanced around the circle of fighters and added them up in his head. "With whom? Everyone else is still here."

     Sarlei chuckled at his assumption. "By herself, of course."

     "But she's our leader. She needs someone with her, especially on her first hunt. Someone has to be there to teach her." He paced back and forth, working himself up to a temper. "Why would you allow her to leave on her own?"

     The other dragons started to notice Rathnew's tantrum, then, too, realised Freilian was gone.

     "What were you thinking?" There was spittle flying from Rathnew's mouth as he raged. "What if she gets injured? You let her go off by herself and . . . ."

     The Skeith and the Scorchio sat quietly on their haunches and let the Grarrl rant. When he finally cooled down, Grenth replied. "She's a dragon. No one needs to teach her how to hunt."

     "Nor is she a child who needs to be led," Sarlei added. "If you had paid attention to your history, you would know that even though she just hatched, she is far from stupid or helpless."

     Rathnew opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped as their leader suddenly landed back on the nest. She calmly perched herself and licked the blood from her claws while delighting in the fight around her. Freilian could tell the council members didn't all get along, and so she observed each one.

     Rathnew immediately approached her. "Freilian, you shouldn't go off by yourself. If you were hungry, little one, you should have just told me, and I would have had one of my clan bring you food." He paused, waiting for Freilian to respond, but she continued idly licking her claws. Is she even listening? What leader would merely clean her claws when there are actions she needs to start taking? He breathed loudly out his nostrils, embers spitting out. "There are things that you don't know. I can teach and guide you."

     The Grarrl continued advancing his cause, but as the other councillors noticed Freilian had returned, they too stopped fighting and, all talking at once, began telling her why they should be her advisor. Grenth and Sarlei just stepped back and watched in amazement, yet entirely unenthused. While common sense might dictate that those trying to talk would realise they couldn't all be heard at once, it would appear that none of these councillors adhered to this belief. Instead of each taking turns to put themselves forward for consideration, they insisted on talking without end, their volume rapidly increasing until there was such a din that no one could any longer be heard.

     Freilian allowed it to continue for a while until, finally, she'd had enough. Opening her snout, she emitted a long, high-pitched bellow familiar to every dragon Neopet and Petpet present in Tyrannia. The roar from Marliten paled in comparison, for this Draik was so loud that she completely overrode all other sound for miles. Those who had been yammering were stunned into silence, and yet the roar continued. It went on and on, and more than one witness, many in fact, had to cover their ears to mute the sound. Those flying above, not members of the council, quickly flew as far as they could to get away from it.

     At last, we see the real power of a dragon leader! Oh, praise the skies! It is a Draik! Oh, so it must be! We shall be ruled by nothing short of greatness. Grenth sighed in such relief that he felt like an actual weight was lifted off his wings. Even smiling, his camouflaged facial expressions could not be seen by anyone unless standing up close.

     So, this is the power of the new leader at birth. I bow to your excellency, Freilian, true sovereign of Tyrannia and all regions of dragonkind. I bow to you, Ma'am. Sarlei closed her eyes with a tiny smile that slowly grew on its own.

     Finally, the bellow ceased. Freilian slowly looked at each in turn, then spoke in a deceitfully innocent-sounding voice. "I may be young, but I am not stupid," she told them calmly. "And you all forget . . . ." She stood and flared her wings, and her voice changed, becoming strong and commanding. "That I am your leader. As such, I will decide if I require an advisor and who that advisor will be." She looked pointedly at Rathnew. "I rule the dragons now, and I do so as I see fit; I cannot be controlled by force or guile, and any who continue to attempt such, will be banished from this council."

     "You can't do that!" The Grarrl warrior was utterly shocked at her dominion. "We have been chosen by our clans to represent them on this council. Only they can remove one of us."

     "It may be true that they chose you, but you serve at my pleasure." There was steel in her gaze, and none who heard her could ever doubt she meant exactly what she was saying. "If I determine you are not a suitable representative, then they will either choose someone else for this council, or they will have no voice here."

     Rathnew fumed, but could not find any words to say or think.

     Henra, the council's Draik representative, slunk forward, trembling as he bowed to Freilian. "M-m . . . M'lady . . . I am Henra. When it pleases you, I . . . I would be happy to escort you to our home in Meridell."

     "I thank you, Henra." The leader nodded regally in his direction. "But although I am a Draik, I have not yet decided where I wish to live. I will choose my own home. You may go." She raised her voice and included them all in her next demand. "You may all go. This council is now closed, and you are all dismissed. Except for you two." She pointed at Grenth and Sarlei. "I would speak to you both a moment."

     The other members of the council quickly fled. With trepidation, Grenth and Sarlei walked toward Freilian. When they reached her, they both bowed deeply in respect.

     "I am Grenth, and I believe you've already been introduced to Sarlei. We are yours to command." Grenth spoke for them both.

     The leader glided to the ground in front of them. "No."

     Sarlei swallowed audibly. "Pardon?"

     "I have no wish to command either of you." She turned and walked toward the caves, motioning for them both to follow. "The one thing those imbeciles were right about, maybe the only thing, is my need of advisors, ones who must be of high integrity and willing to tell me the truth in all matters. I would like you both to serve in that capacity."

     Grenth and Sarlei bowed again, this time in acceptance.

     "Good," Freilian announced. "Let's get to work."

     To be continued . . .