The tall knight scratched his hairless chin irritably. Unlike the other knights, who groomed their sleek mustaches and beards proudly, he had never grown any hair. He didn't know why this odd phenomenon happened but it had been accepted and left alone. He was still a knight (or at least an apprentice), beard or no.
He smiled proudly as he stood in the town square, the brilliant golden sun shone on his bare shoulders with a spring-like warmth. Patrons of the small town waved to him as they went on their business. Children stared up in awe, keeping a tight hold on their mother's hands so as not to lose the preoccupied parent. The knight smiled down on them, his features smooth and gentle, showing his young age. He clasped his hands behind his back loosely, feeling the heat of the sun penetrating his armour. He readjusted the steel breastplate for the fifth time that day, casting a quick glance over the rest of his plate mail. Every piece was held tightly in place, gleaming without a spot to mar it.
Finally, he spotted the assemblage of three knights coming to meet him this fine day. The head knight had called a meeting just for him, though had given no reason. Maybe today would be the day he earned his full knight hood, he thought eagerly. His heart skipped a beat and he quickly calmed and scolded himself for getting excited about a possible future. Not certain yet. Whatever happened today though, he was very proud to have been summoned by the head knight himself.
"Cortheus!" The aged knight's voice called up to him. His voice cracked with the unaccustomed strength needed to reach the large apprentice's ears. Cortheus bowed his head respectfully.
"My Lord Damidar." He greeted him with the revered name given the head knight, as any knight would.
"Cortheus," Damidar began. He stopped and cleared his throat, motioning to the apprentice. "Could you... lower your head a bit? There, that's better." Damidar smiled as Cortheus sat down in the square and lowered his head to the small man's level. "Cortheus, do you know why you've been called here today?"
A crowd had gathered around them, booting Cortheus' pride and feeling of importance. "No, my Lord." He rumbled in his deep baritone. Damidar exchanged a nervous glance with his companions, each decked out in the full armour of the knighthood. Tears glistened beneath their bushy eyebrows, though all three would deny it later.
"Cortheus, my dear boy," Damidar continued, still forced to crane his neck to look the large apprentice in the eye, "you've become a capable young man of ... one hundred and thirty eight years now, fully studied in your apprenticeship." He had to swallow as he saw the joy sparkling in Cortheus' youthful, blue eyes. "And so, it is with pride that I give you your full knighthood."
"Thank you, my Lord. I am very-" Cortheus' bubbling voice was cut off as Damidar raised a hand for silence.
"There's more Cortheus," a few sniffles could be heard in the crowd as the head knight finished his speech, "as a knight of the Order, you are sworn to protect those given in your care. So I send you out into the world, for the world is your charge. Cortheus, knight of the Ancient Order, you are released from these barracks."
There was a moment of silence as Cortheus looked down at his Lord sadly. A few sniffling sobs broke through the still crowd, background noise in Cortheus' mind. "Why, my Lord?"
"The truth is, my boy, you've far exceeded all your tutors. You're the most skilled knight we have and as such, it is your duty to protect all those in need of aid." The head knight sighed softly, age and sadness lining his wrinkled face. "Plus, you've just gotten too big for us to care for your anymore."
It was true. Cortheus not only stood head and shoulders above everyone else, but when he stood to his full height, the tallest knight only came to his ankles. Cortheus, in reality, was a 60 ft., adult red dragon.
* * * The dragonknight packed up his things sullenly. He dared not cry for fear of rusting his specially made helm. Everything of his was specially made, right down to the gigantic sword he wore at his side. He had been a bit upset when his armour had been finished without the symbol of the knights, an ancient gold dragon inlaid into the steel breastplate. The blacksmiths insisted, quiet grumpily, that his armour had taken long enough to make without the symbol and he'd just have to live with the knowledge that there was no other armour like his in the world. The citizens also insisted that finding that much gold would render them broke. Choosing the prosperity of his home town over his armour, he let the subject drop. He'd been pleasantly surprised anyway when his sword was finished and fitted perfectly for him. Though it was a chore at times (most of the time), the towns people tried their hardest to let Cortheus fit into their small society. If that meant picking the land for every bit of metal they could find, they'd do it.
The red dragon sniffled sadly, causing a few around him to tense incase they needed to take cover. He was known for accidentally charring something to a crisp with his flame breath when angered... or sneezing. He finished packing the supplies given him by the towns people into a gigantic leather pack and swung it up to his shoulder. His wings flapped once or twice then folded against his back, the left wing joint rubbing irritably against the pack strap. Looking down at his companion knights, Cortheus had to restrain the urge to break out in tears as many of the small humans were doing.
"Now Cortheus," the aged head knight sighed softly, tears glistening on his cheeks. He waited while the dragon dropped to three claws, one holding the pack tightly, and lowered his head to his mentor. Damidar scratched beneath the red scales under his chin gently. "This is hard on all of us you know. But it's for the best."
"I know, my Lord." Cortheus sniffled, causing a few knights to nearly loose their balance.
"I know you'll make us proud, my boy. Go on now." He patted the strong, muscled jaw once. Cortheus nodded and slowly rose up to his full height. His long tail waved back and forth behind him, the tip just above the top of the houses. He glanced around once more at the quaint little town that had been his home all his life. Small, square houses set in small, square blocks. Cobble stone roads criss-crossed between the rows of houses and stores, now filled with people. A few children had been set at the front of the gathering, holding a large banner reading "WE'LL MISS YOU CORTHEUS," in bright red letters. Red that matched his shining scales, Cortheus noted with a sob.
Cortheus swallowed the lump rising in his throat and lifted his head proudly. He raised a hand in farewell to his �family' and turned to step out of the city. As he passed the spiralling walls of the mage's town, he noticed a few familiar faces looking out at him. Across from the mages rested the strong hold of the knights, a sturdy rock building on the edge of the town. He could hear the small voices of his companions calling out goodbye as he stepped onto the soft grass outside town and began to walk.
This was the first time Cortheus has ever left his home town of Gunthar. For as long as he could remember, he'd been trained under the knighthood and raised by the people of the town. Everyone seemed to care for him deeply, helping him when he hurt himself, teaching him everything he needed to know, feeding him even though he ate so much more then the others.
The knights had found him one day when out on an expedition. His mother, a dying red dragon had begged them to take his egg and care for him until he could fend for himself. She was one of the ancient dragons, abandoned after the others had fled into the depths of the world. She'd been egg heavy when the dragons had left and now, only one egg survived. The knights had taken pity on the aged dragoness and agreed to her wishes. Carrying the enormous ruby egg between them, the small band had returned to Gunthar and told their story of meeting the dragon and her egg. From then on, the villagers swore to raise this lone ancient dragon as best they could. They would provide for him and, since it was the knights that found him, train him as one of their order. That had been easier said then done.
When Cortheus hatched, he'd wailed for hours, nearly deafening those around him. None of the knights could understand why he wouldn't quiet. Finally, a nurse maid was allowed to see the howling red. She quickly quieted him with a skill only a mother possesses and scolded them for not feeding him. The pour thing was hungry! While a few wards rushed around to gather enough meat, the nurse maid had tended to other things the new born needed. In a short matter of time, hatchling Cortheus had been fed and soon slept curled up by the large fire pit in the front hall. The head knight had deemed the nurse maid caretaker of the hatchling for as long as she was needed. She took a few of the apprentice knights under her wing and trained them in �dragon care.' After that, it had been tradition that five knights and one nurse maid were chosen to care for Cortheus when the previous ones couldn't any more.
When the youngling dragon had reached ten years of age, he was large enough to stand on two feet and spar with the knights. They'd begun his training immediately, often having to switch trainers as he outgrew their skills. He was still young though, but just as intelligent as a thirteen year old boy, and cried whenever he wanted something. With his size grew his curiosity and his stomach. Often times, the current knights in charge of him had to pry uneatable objects from his claws and carefully tell him that such things weren't to be digested. Often times, Cortheus would throw a fit until the nurse maid was able to calm him down and give him real food.
One such fit ended with a small burst of flame that seared a tapestry on the wall. The head knight had thrown a fit himself and ordered that Cortheus either learn how to use his skills or tape his mouth shut. Cortheus went into training under the mage's council the next day.
By the age of fifty, Cortheus had out grown all the knights and his strength couldn't be surpassed. He'd become a master of both magick and sword play, learning new tricks from each of his tutors. Any other ward at this stage would have been given a full knighthood with deep honours. Any other knight, who wasn't a teenaged, inexperienced dragon.
When Cortheus finally graduated (with honours and relief) from the mage's tower, he had reached one hundred years of age and full adulthood. By this time, Damidar was the head knight and knew he would be the last to see Cortheus' training. The towns people began to complain about how much, not only of food but of money as well, that it took to house the giant red. They had barely scraped through the last winter with enough food for everyone. Still, the pinch of rationing food was beginning to show in the small bellies of the children. Cortheus' knightly armour and sword were the last straw. From then on, though the people loved him dearly, Damidar knew it was a losing battle.
The meeting held the night before Cortheus' "graduation" was the deciding vote. Though it had been unanimously decided that the big red had to go, there wasn't a dry eye in the house once the vote was cast. The village elders assigned a few people to gather enough supplies for Cortheus to last a few days on his own. After that, he'd have to hunt. Many had volunteered to break the news to Cortheus, some suggested to do it together, but it was Damidar, in the end, who was chosen. The red dragon didn't even have a clue of the upset he was causing. The villagers loved him too much to tell him off.
So it was that Cortheus, a grown dragon of one hundred and thirty eight years, had set off on his own. Perhaps to make his own adventures, or join others. Either way, as he strolled along the rolling grass fields of the Northern continent, he hummed a happy tune to himself and put thoughts of his home behind him. He could easily fly, having learned long ago, but that would mean leaving his armour and supplies behind. That just wouldn't do!
A few passing birds reeling in the sky above squawked and nearly lost their balance as they saw the giant red walk by. He had built up a fairly good speed, planning on reaching the fabled Warren before nightfall. As such, if the birds weren't knocked off course by the mere sight of him, they were by the impact of his passing. Other then those dwelling in the sky, few saw Cortheus pass. Most of the farmers sitting down with their families for supper heard him though, rumbling through the foot hills and over the forests.
As night fell, Cortheus kept up his steady pace. The glittering tree tops of the Warren were in sight, their emerald leaves seeming to glow in the fading light of dusk. From his vantage, Cortheus could see that the trees were nearly as tall as himself and just as wide around. Their ancient branches twisted and twined around each other until it was nearly impossible to separate them. It would be a shame to do so anyway, seeing the intricate pattern woven into the canopy above. Like a gate to a new world, the trees split apart for the road, their curving branches reaching overtop to shelter the travellers. Inside spread the cool greenery of overly large ferns and damp WaterRoses. The thick vines of these magickal flowers climbed up and around the trees, draping themselves throughout the Warren's forest. Cortheus marvelled as he finally reached the edge of this gigantic forest. He blinked, looking over the top of the glittering brown and gold cavern to the edge of the forest beyond. It seemed as if this place of solitude stretched into eternity. Leafy fingers reached out across the plains , attempting to touch the nearby towns. The cavern itself seemed to glow with warmth, a white jewel in a sea of green.
"May I help you?" Called a silky voice behind him. Cortheus turned quickly, startled to have not heard the stranger's approach. He gasped as he looked at the sleek silver dragoness before him, her head cocked curiously in his direction. A trail of slender spines rose above her head and ran down her neck in waves. Her shoulders bulged with strength, both of flying and fighting, and beyond that... Cortheus made a small whimpering noise, weaving slightly on his feet.
"Y- you're not-" He choked before he could finish. His eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled to the ground loudly. Myrah'Care looked down at the odd red dragon, her eyes whirling a soft gold in confusion.
"Oh dear." She glanced back at the woman standing beside her. "Was it something I said?"
* * * "Will he be alright?" A foggy voice floated through the haze in Cortheus' mind. He knew he'd heard it before but he couldn't place the soft, feminine sound.
He'll be fine. The answering voice defiantly pierced through his aching mind. It hadn't come from outside as the other had. Instead, the intruder rudely projected her voice directly into his thoughts. He groaned softly as the piercing voice let through a streak of reality. Bright sunlight shone into his eyes, causing him to flinch yet slowly regain consciousness.
"He's waking." The first voice stated needlessly.
"Good." A third voice, commanding yet gently feminine. Blinking his eyes open slowly, Cortheus stared up into the whirling eyes of the silver dragoness again. He gulped as the full impact of the previous night hit him. Shutting his eyes quickly, Cortheus tried to block out the unpleasant memory.
"What now?" The silver sighed in annoyance.
"P- pardon m'lady," Cortheus stuttered, still keeping his eyes tightly shut, "but you're not wearing any clothes."
"Of course not." The silver snorted in distaste, curling up on the floor of the healing weyr. "Why should I be?"
"Well... because it's proper, m'lady." Cortheus opened one eye slightly. He lay on a large pile of hay (as far as he could tell) in a dimly lit room. Two dragons lay across from him, one being the silver he met last night and the other a small green. Two humans stood beside their draconic companions. The woman hid a grin, chuckling to herself as the man outright laughed and shook his head. "Why do you laugh?" Cortheus asked in confusion, rolling onto his side to get a better look at them.
"Sorry." The man smirked, swallowing another laugh. "I was just trying to imagine Myrah'Care and Nenialith in dresses." He snorted once, unable to contain his mirth and burst out laughing again. The silver growled under her breath, glaring down at the small humans.
"Why is that so odd?" Cortheus was now throughly confused. Why were the humans laughing at him?
Because dragons don't wear clothes. The odd voice echoed in his mind again. Cortheus' head snapped up and he looked around sharply, searching for the voice.
"Who said that?"
Me! The voice's owner snorted in annoyance. Nenialith looked down at her rider, now doubled over on the floor with laughter.
"Get some rest." The red robed woman spoke softly. She seemed to glow with an aura of strength, her smile softening it to a mother's love. Cortheus nodded dumbly, letting his head drop against the hay again.
"Yes... yes. Sleep is good." His eyes closed slowly and soon he found himself drifting back into the blackness of his mind.
* * * Nearly a week later, Cortheus had begun to settle into the daily routine of the Warren. He was still having trouble accepting that dragons here didn't wear clothes... and that they walked on all fours. The poor red was having a harder time accepting that he wasn't even human! Still, he found the Warren a pleasant place to live and always there to help those in need. One particular spring day, many of the Fighter Wing dragons lounged on the lush grasses of the flight fields. They had just gotten back from a sweep of the ruins of Inobi, looking for any clues that would lead them to the hydra's plans. Cortheus sat back against the wide trunks of the trees surrounding the field, stretched out much like a human would be. His legs crossed before him leisurely and his hands behind his head, he watched through lidded eyes as the fighting dragons conversed among themselves.
"How many, do you think, will be moved into the mountain caverns?" The dark blue Kellarian dragon, Dien, commented on the current discussion topic. Normally playful and talkative, even he seemed to be calmed by the last view of the charred city, Inobi.
Most likely any new bonders Mystic finds. The Warren's nearly reached it's capacity and she's sending out the Search dragons to find more candidates. The war's taking it's toll already. Tynith, a normally silent green dragoness, replied. She was the only female among them yet possessed just as much strength as the larger browns.
We could use a few new riders ourselves. Bazuk remarked, his bronze horns gleaming in the mid-day light.
He might make a good fighter. Sottiseth said with a smirk and nod toward Cortheus, knowing that Porth didn't approve of Cortheus' arrival.
The lead dragon of the Wing, Porth, snorted in distaste of the thought. He doesn't even have a rider.
Cortheus couldn't help but laugh quietly at that. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't picture himself with a rider. If anything, the entire village of Gunthar was bonded to him. Porth turned a red eyed gaze on the dragonknight.
What's so funny about that?
"I just can't picture myself with a rider." Cortheus smiled pleasantly. He got along with most of the dragons of the Warren. Porth just didn't seem to like knowing that he could be bested by a non-Pernese dragon.
You'd be too weak to impress anyway. Porth snorted again, turning his attention back to the group. Bazuk and Sottiseth exchanged sly glances.
Why not fight him then?
Cortheus sighed softly and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to fight you."
Why not? Porth felt his boast growing in his chest. He puffed himself up proudly and lifted his head to the sun. Size doesn't matter. I can take you.
"A true knight does not fight for pleasure." Cortheus repeated from his code of honour.
Fine. Then we'll spar.
Cortheus seemed to consider this option for a moment. Porth was a large brown, and strong. He was easily the best fighter this Wing had. His rider, Rugan, wasn't someone to be messed with either.
"Go on! Show th' oaf how te fight." Rugan's voice hinted laughter as she stood beside Porth, her muscled arms crossed over her chest. She watched in amusement as Porth stood and stretched his wings impressively. Cortheus shrugged lightly, pushing himself to his feet.
As Porth looked up at the giant red, standing easily on two feet, he began to wonder if size really did matter. Shrugging it off, he rose uneasily up to his hindlegs, his tail waving back and forth wildly to keep his balance. He felt the muscles in his legs strain to keep up the unusual position while his arms dangled in front of him. For now, he would concentrate on simply walking without falling flat on his face. Taking one wavering step, Porth slowly made his way over to where Cortheus waited. The big red didn't draw his sword, knowing this would be a quick battle. Even standing as he was, Porth only came up to Cortheus' chest. Though large for a brown, Pernese dragons weren't exactly the biggest creatures around. An adult gold dragon stood only thirty-two feet at the shoulder. Porth stood somewhere around twenty feet and seemed less when compared to Cortheus.
Porth began to pick up speed, nearly falling forward as he ran towards Cortheus. With a mighty bellow, he let himself tip precariously close to the ground, aiming to ram his head into Cortheus' steel plated chest. A single, deft movement of his hands and Cortheus sent Porth sprawling to the ground. He didn't even waver as the large brown flipped onto his back in stunned silence.
Laughter resounded through the dragons. A few had to hide their faces so that their mighty leader didn't see them nearly unable to breath because of it. Rugan's laughter was the loudest, doubling the woman over and felling her to her knees. Cortheus smiled and took a deep bow, his wings extending slightly to keep himself balanced. The laughter continued even as Porth pushed himself to his feet, his head lowered in defeat. Though the large brown muttered darkly about the �unfair' battle, Cortheus could see the hint of a smile on his face.
"Oy... that was good." Rugan gasped for breath, her dark face turning a bright red. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen but it felt good to have laughed so hard. She chuckled once more, shaking her head as Porth made a hasty retreat. "Can we keep �im, Mystic?"
Only then did Cortheus notice the solemn figure of the Warren's Caretaker. Mystic smiled softly, her golden staff a streak of gold against her red dress. Cortheus blinked in confusion as Mystic nodded slowly. Turning, the mage left the clearing as if the laughter resonating through the field didn't affect her.
* * * Cortheus sat within the confines of his mountain home later that night. Rain clouds obscured the sky, turning the pale moon to a blot of white in the sky. Wisps of night air wafted in through the cave mouth, filling his nostrils with the damp smell of rain. Outside, it pour down like a sheet of silver droplets, accented by the flaring light from the storm. Thunder rolled across the sky, sending a shiver down Cortheus' spine. He had always loved storms, ever since he could remember. The fire pit on the opposite wall remained black and cold. He didn't need the warmth, finding his body adjusted easily to temperatures. The torches around the walls were unlit, hanging uselessly in their metal holsters. He didn't need the light, his sharp eye sight picking out every detail of the large and empty room. His armour lay beside the fire pit, carefully placed in order, piece by piece. His gleaming, blue steel sword rested beside the armour, as ridged and unmoving as everything else. Cortheus sighed deeply and let his head drop down to his foreclaws. He was lonely.
"Maybe you don't see yourself as a rider," a soft voice cut sharply through the silence, startling the large red out of his thoughts. Mystic smiled softly as she walked toward him, her robes barely making a sound as they rustled around her feet, "but perhaps there is another soul waiting out there for you."
"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously, fixing his blue eyes on the small figure as she came to stand beside him.
"I will be quick, Cortheus." She smiled again, looking up at him. "How would you like to stand for impression?"
Cortheus waited for a moment in complete silence, blinking quickly. The rain outside provided a rhythmic background noise to his confused thoughts. "Me?"
"Yes." Mystic's smile broadened, seeming to give her face a warm glow. She chuckled softly and turned her golden gaze to the storm. "I know it sounds odd but I've heard of places where dragons bond dragons." She paused for a second in thought then looked up at him. "Do you know what a soul mate is?"
The crimson red nodded slowly. He'd heard Damidar talking about �soul mates' once. His voice seemed wistful and far away as he spoke of his wife. His �soul mate.' There was a love in his eyes that seemed to radiate from every part of his being. He told Cortheus how he and his wife had been together for thirty years. They were true soul mates, he supposed. Now Cortheus wondered what it was like to feel that kind of love. He snorted and shook his head to clear it of those preposterous thoughts.
"That's insane. I can't bond one of my own kind." He tried to sound convincing, hiding the tremor of hope in his voice.
"They aren't exactly your kind, Cortheus. And I have seen it happen before. Why not now?" Mystic's knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She watched the turmoil on the dragon's face as he quickly averted his eyes to the rain pouring down outside. A quick flash of lightening danced off the sparkling droplets, turning the sky to silver and violet.
Why not now, Cortheus though to himself. He was a knight, destined to rescue maidens in distress and fight for innocence. He was also a dragon, lonely and the last of his breed. Knights simply didn't wander off to impress their soul mates. Why should he impress anyway? He was strong, intelligent and noble, all the things a knight should be, and a dragon. His tail flicked erratically against the ground. Other knights had impressed, that's how the dragon riders were born. This was an order, one in need of members. He could at least try. "Alright." He answered finally, not recognizing his own deep baritone voice.
"Good." Mystic replied softly, nodding her head. "I know just the place."
Cortheus is a candidate at: Vella Crean
Cortheus' image was drawn by ME! Don't steal it!