Legends Born: Tahir Edition (History's Shadow)

History’s Shadow I: Legends Born

  Tahir Edition

  by

 

  K. Dzr

  Copyright 2012 K. Dzr

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-300-42572-4

  Thanks to my Mom—who thinks “everything I do I do good”—my Grandma (I wouldn't even know what a book was if it wasn’t for her) and Annetta Wellman, Rachael Varblow and Corisa Nalls for all their hours of work to make this possible.

  PART I

  P R O L O G U E

  Life isn’t fair. That’s a lesson I learned long ago. It also has a peculiar way of upsetting even the most strategic plans. That too, I discovered in my youth. One day, my plans are falling into shape, the next, life, as cruel and wondrous as it is has disappointed me once again. I’ve watched empires rise and fall, the land change shape, new technologies emerge and societies form. Nothing in this world remains the same except its unwavering ability to ruin everything.

  I wasn’t very old when I realized I was different. As it turned out, I was one of the most powerful creatures on this forsaken planet. The plants, animals, wind, fire, and water alike; all mine to command. More than I could imagine at such an early age. With naïve enthusiasm, I learned all I could about my unique abilities. I traveled the world to attend the best schools, met the wisest of the wise, and every creature imaginable. Even though my parents were gone and my only companion was a wolf, of sorts, I was optimistic and focused. I had great plans for my abilities. But things change. Like I said, one day everything became clear. As it was, life, destiny or whatever you want to call it, had its own plans for me.

  Apparently, it includes a lot of waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It’s enough to drive one mad. Ah, but not me. I’ve lived longer than most and have already spent an insurmountable length of that time waiting. I’ve spent this time watching, reflecting, and yes, planning. This probably isn’t making much sense. You see, I realize there is much you believe to be true, more you believe untrue. Since my fate dictates that I must continue to suffer this exhaustive waiting period, I have decided to tell you what really happened. The truth for a change; from the beginning, from one who was there, watching.

  Now, let me be clear, I wasn’t there for the very beginning. That story is told accurately enough in another book. But I can certainly stand as witness to the beginning of this story. And this story begins in the small village of Nephram.

  Chapter One

  T H E C U R S E

  The rhythmic sounds of their heavy footsteps were almost hypnotic. The word curse echoed in his mind. He shook his head and focused on the footsteps again. This was Demetrius’ first trip with his parents. His father said it was time for him to learn about the source of the curse upon their village. He knew of the curse; heard the whispers and mutterings among the adults. Then there was the time the curse descended upon the village. It was swift and destructive. Amid the chaos he could hardly tell what happened, but the aftermath was as clear as the water that rolled down the mountains in spring. A curse. That is what his father called it. Demetrius watched his toes slide over his worn sandals and into the ground with each step.

  Demetrius held the rope loosely in his hand. Behind him, the ox stumbled along bearing its load of grain. Mother carried a basket filled with fruit and berries. Father had a young buck draped across his shoulders. It hadn’t even grown antlers yet, but food was scarce and they were fortunate to have found it. They trudged through the sandy turf, each lost in thought. The Persian sun broke through the scattering of trees to bake their already bronze faces.

  He knew from his parents’ somber demeanors, this wasn’t a trip anyone should look forward to. He was tired and thirsty, but figured now was not the time to complain. His father’s back was soaked with sweat. Mother shifted the basket from arm to arm, sometimes hoisting it onto her head. He knew they were just as miserable as he.

  Charred bones, disfigured trees, and the putrid stench of death greeted them as they neared the cave. Demetrius tightened his grip on the rope and pulled the ox close. His eyes scanned back and forth; the sound of his own heart pounded in his ears. His stomach lurched at the sight of a cow’s crushed skull. Its hollow eye sockets peered up at him as insects feasted on its blackened remains.

  Mother pulled the basket from her head and carried it in her weary arms. Father looked over his shoulder at his son. Demetrius could see the worry etched in his father’s face. Despite his fatigue and the growing knot in his stomach, he mustered the warmest smile he could for his son. Demetrius knew it was a façade; there was nothing to smile about. But the gesture pushed the vision of the decayed skull from his mind. Father’s eyes shifted to Mother and she reached out to squeeze his hand. She glanced back at Demetrius and a corner of her mouth curled upward in an attempt to smile. The smiles quickly faded when they turned their attention to the cave before them.

  A low rumble filled the hills. The warmth of the desert sun was sucked away, leaving Demetrius with an unnatural chill. A moment ago he could hear insects buzzing, birdsong, and small animals scurrying in the treetops; with that solitary growl it was as if the entire world held its breath. Two sulfuric slits glowed in the darkness of the earthen abode. Smoke filled the cave and the ground disappeared beneath the haze. Slowly, with thunderous booms as each clawed foot struck the ground, Netiro emerged.

  Whatever comfort his parents’ smiles had given him quickly vanished. If he could have, he would have run. Fear gripped him so he could hardly breathe, let alone move. With that same iron grip he clutched the rope around the ox’s neck, hardly aware of its jerking and pulling. Until now there had only been quick glimpses or shadows. He’d witness an eruption of flames from seemingly nowhere, or upturned trees and damaged homes. But to actually see the monster up close in the midday sun…if it were not for the frantic pulling from the ox, Demetrius would not have been able to tear his eyes from the curse.

  Netiro lifted his reptilian head to yawn; exposing teeth as long and sharp as the finest knife. He stretched his serpentine body and fanned his leathery wings, casting the family into shadow. His bloated stomach nearly dragged on the ground as he approached.

  “And what have we here?” the dragon demanded.

  “We’ve brought food.” Nehemiah hoisted the young buck from his shoulders and lowered it to the ground. Ezria followed her husband’s lead. Keeping her eyes cast down, she placed the basket near the buck and quickly backed away. Nehemiah never took his eyes from the dragon as he motioned with his hand for Demetrius to bring the grain. Nehemiah had never known the dragon to attack when receiving his meal, but he knew Netiro to be unpredictable and had no intention of letting his guard down. He listened to his son struggle to maintain control over the terrified ox. Netiro seethed as he watched the boy fumble with the ropes. Nehemiah reached back and grabbed the ox’s rope while the dragon paced without taking his evil glare from Demetrius.

  “I’ve got the ox. Get those sacks down boy,” Nehemiah muttered through tight lips.

  Demetrius’ concentration was divided. He watched his shaking fingers work at the ropes which secured the grain, while his mind could hold no thoughts other than the dragon looming over him.

  After a lifetime of serving the insatiable dragon, Nehemiah no longer felt the pure terror he once had. He still feared Netiro; he’d be a fool not to. But the paralyzing terror had long been replaced by resentment, anger and hatred. Those feelings deepened with each journey. When he watched his wife cower before Netiro, too afraid to look at the dragon, those feelings resurfaced. Now, listening to his normally dexterous and reliable son struggle with a simple rope and sack, he ex
perienced a new dark emotion to include among those that spawned from these visits to Netiro’s lair.

  Disappointment. Not disappointment in his son, but in himself. His inability to protect Demetrius from this cruel tradition. That he couldn’t promise his wife safety. That he obediently marched his family into danger. Disappointment he discovered, made the other poisonous emotions grow stronger still. Disappointment, like a venomous bite, could poison even the strongest man’s soul.

  The grain spilled onto the ground. Demetrius tried to correct his mistake, but it was like trying to catch pouring water.

  “Oaf of a child!” Netiro hissed. “You are more pathetic than the rest of your pitiful species.” The dragon’s tail lashed out and knocked Demetrius away from the food, sending the boy splaying in the sand. Nehemiah’s jaw clenched. He glanced back to see Demetrius slowly rising to his feet and rubbing his ribs where the tail hit him. Thankfully, he hadn’t been struck by one of the spikes.

  Netiro examined the food with obvious discontent. “You bring me wheat and grapes? I eat meat, you simpletons!”

  “We have brought you venison as well,” Nehemiah explained. “This is all we have. Meat has become scarce.”

  “This is not enough! Am I to starve because of your incompetence?” Netiro roared.

  The ox bucked and jerked in frenzy, sending Demetrius stumbling to the ground again. The dragon’s roars drowned out Ezria’s screams as Nehemiah rushed to pull his son away from the flurry of hooves.

  The ox charged Ezria. In a panic, desperate to flee the looming predator, she dove into the sandy brush; narrowly escaping its bone-crushing hooves. The ox was unable to avoid Netiro’s bone-crushing jaws. The ox’s spine snapped with a gruesome crack and its limp body was lifted into the air, trapped within Netiro’s canines. Ezria stared up into the dragon’s mouth, too terrified to move as he violently shook the ox. His perfectly shaped teeth slipped between the ox’s vertebrae and punctured it’s vital organs. Warm blood rained down on her. Nehemiah rushed to pull her away just as Netiro slammed the slain animal to the ground. Ezria tried to wipe the ox’s blood from her eyes. She coughed and spit the blood from her mouth, clinging to Nehemiah as he hurried her away from the carnage. The family ran from the cave and its horrors, pursued only by the dragon’s bellowing laugh.