The Talagian War

Prologue

The golden dragon slithered through the sky, far above the clouds. His six legs grasped at the thin air, giving the illusion that he was able to bound through the sky. Steam poured from his nostrils as he went. He was at the highest altitude a dragon could fly at and survive. He had no wings, depending on his magic to carry him. The moon and stars, ancient companions to him, reflected off of his scales, urging him on to his destination, just coming into view on the horizon. Seemingly an infinite line stretching from the earth below into the heavens, as the closer more details emerged, revealing it to be an immensely tall building. The massive structure was not a pure line. Each story of the tower was a different size, built for a purpose only its designer could know. Tonight, however, the dragon did not need to know the purpose of every level, but only the location of one: the prison.

And there it was, a bleak, jutting, gray level, a sullen fog pouring from the crack under the tremendous door. With a final effort, the golden dragon landed on the prison-level's immense doorstep. At his presence, the ponderous doors opened, and he entered, the morose atmosphere only growing more intense inside. The doors shut of their own accord behind him, cutting off the light of the moon and stars. Once inside, the dragon shook his mane and shrank in size, transforming into a tall, white-haired man with golden eyes dressed in a elegant, robe-like garment. He snapped his fingers and lanterns lit around the massive room, fighting back the stubborn fog. Yet the center of the prison remained shrouded in darkness. Chains of iron and rock, each link a foot thick and etched with glowing runes stretched toward the darkness like a web.

The chains rattled and grew taut as whatever occupied the center turned toward the visitor. "Have you come to mock me?" A voice rasped from the center of the prison. "If so, it is terribly unbecoming of a servant of the gods." The chains rattled again, and the voice took on a sly tone. "Or perhaps you have seen the light, and you are here to join me."

"No, Kitherion," the golden man said, continuing to stride forward, undeterred by the darkness. As he approached the center of the prison, the darkness rose like a cloud, attempting to engulf him. The golden man waved his hand, and it all disappeared. Before him was another dragon, dwarfing the golden man in size. This one was jet-black, with grimy scales. He had four legs and a pair of bat-like wings, all weighed down by shackles and chains. The golden man's eyes narrowed. "You mock our race with those?" He pointed at the wings.

"You like them?" Kitherion said, mumbling past a muzzle of rusted iron. He arched his neck proudly. "I haven't had a lot else to work on here. I think they are a magnificent design, borrowed, of course, from one of your gods. It's a pity I haven't been able to try them out yet, but I'm assured they will work." He leaned close, coming eye-level with the golden man. "Come now, Solatharion, may we speak as we have in the past?"

"I would like nothing more," Solatharion replied. "For I am here to commute your sentence, if you will cooperate."

Kitherion laughed, the sound shaking the rocks beneath him. "Have the gods suddenly discovered forgiveness? How wonderful! I bow before their kindness." He bowed his head sardonically.

"I am serious, Kitherion," Solatharion said. "They are willing to give you a degree of freedom, from which you could prove your loyalty once again if you cooperate."

"Cooperate with what?" Kitherion spat. "If you had visited any time in the last hundred years, you would know that nothing has changed here. And if you had seen me here five hundred years before that, it would be same. No," the black dragon said, resting his head on crossed forearms, his voice taking on an innocent air, "my scheming days are long behind me."

"Your old friend Daltharion is causing trouble in the west," Solatharion said, unphased. "It seems that he is following your example by setting himself up as a god to the Draki."

"I suspect it has less to do with following my example and more to do with filling the need of the mortals for the presence of a deity," the black dragon replied. "After all, your masters abandoned the world, not us dragons. He is only accomplishing his directive to take care of the mortals as he has been instructed." He fixed Solatharion with an unblinking gaze. "Of course, that is the argument I would have made in the past. As it is, I am a humble, repentant wyrm, eager to return to my place as favorite pet of the gods."

Solatharion sighed deeply and took a step back. "Goodbye, Kitharion." As he turned to go, he paused, and spoke softly. "I wish you hadn't lied."