The Lands Between - Age of Dragons

Chapter Eight - Battle for Leyndell

"Lord among lords, mighty king among kings,

His will made of stone as the scales on his wings,

Does it all have a meaning, tell me what is it for,

These endless battles, this lifetime of war,

I know you are weary, and your wounds have not healed,

You must pick up your shield, and the axe which you wield,

His name spoken in whispers, from near to abroad,

Tales of Cyrus, the man, who slew a god."

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"I already told you, Cormac. I would join you to the Elden Throne but you would have to be the one to awaken the Dragon King. This was your genius idea to begin with," said Joan.

The worried voice traveled across the open terrace that propped up the Elden Throne. As his senses returned to him, Dragon King Cyrus wondered how long it had been since the human tongue had last reached his ears. Weeks? Months? The internal strength required to face Radagon was immense, and the battle itself had shaken him to his core. He would have surely fallen to the Elden Beast if Freyjasaxx had not been by his side. The ancient wyrm had given her life to ensure Cyrus' victory and ascension to the throne.

"Fine, fine," replied the squire. "I will do it. You can blame this entire mess on Kali, by the way. We would not even need to be here if she had simply followed Levina's orders. Gods only know what business was urgent enough to disobey the Dragon Priestess."

"Just be wary. My father tells me the Dragon King was once a mighty dragon who took on human form so that he may walk among mortal men," warned Joan.

"I hear he was born a human and feasted upon the hearts of a thousand dragons in order to gain their power," said Cormac.

"You really should not believe everything you hear, you know," said Cyrus, his voice escaping his chest in a deep growl. The squires jumped to attention at his words, with Cormac's hand flinging to the pommel of his blade.

"There will be no need for that," said Cyrus, rising to his feet by the butt of his dragon claw great axe. To his surprise, the Dragon Cult had rebuilt the Royal Capital from the ashes. "You are a squire to Priestess Levina, are you not? Then we are allies. No Dragon Cult blood will be spilled by my hand."

The squires' faces eased a little, although they still looked at him with the combination of fear and respect the Dragon King had become accustomed to.

"So it is true then? You were born a dragon? Or as a man?" asked Cormac.

Cyrus pondered the question for a moment. In the distance, he could see the charred remains of the Erdtree, its bark now fully consumed by the fire giant's flame. Up above the clouds, the few remaining ancient dragons glided, their barely contained power generating a constant storm of dust and red lightning. The Dragon King combed his fingers through his grizzly, chestnut beard. It had grown significantly in length, a testament to how long he had been unconscious. His wild hair flowed over his back in an unkempt knot, resting over a crimson cape made up of scales and dragon membrane. Cyrus made it a point to don the sacred armor of the des in solidarity with his most loyal disciples. Except for their helms, for it was only a crown that was fit to rest upon the head of a monarch.

"My past is not so simple, but I will try to explain as best I can. It is true that I carry the blood of dragons within me. I am the son of the Dragonlord Placidusax, the former Elden Lord that once resided in the sands beyond time. My mother was the first of the Dragon Priestesses. A millennia ago when the Dragon Cult still lived in Farum Azula. So deep was my mother's connection with the dragons that Placidusax took on human form—a gift granted by our god to only the strongest of dragonkind. It is from their union that I was born; with the flesh of a man, but the essence of a dragon within me," explained Cyrus.