Prologue

The Patrol was where outcasts went to die. Originally founded when the elves consolidated the humans under their rule, the Patrol was a negotiation between the two parties to establish a peacekeeping force to watch over the nomads’ ancestral lands. It was meant as a way for the humans to maintain control over their former territories, and for the elves to prove their worth to their Huntress by fighting threats to the people of the new Empire

But as the humans grew more comfortable in elven cities, the elves began taking more and more control of the Empire from them. The Patrol was one of the casualties. The organization went from honorable cooperation between two cultures to a legal, cleaner way for elven nobles to execute those who somehow wronged them. Whereas the emperors and empresses of the Empire took the title “of No Family” as an oath of office, the elves of the Patrol truly had no family; they were stripped of all their rank and privileges, disowned by their friends and relatives, and shipped off to the savannah to fight until they died. The best a member of the Patrol could hope for was to survive the wilds long enough to attain the rank of Watcher. Watchers were moved to a nice apartment in the Capitol, and no one avoided them when they went among the public.

Patrolman Alon, sadly, was not a Watcher. He was a grunt, fresh from Nowhere as they say (your hometown disowned you as well). A child by the immortal elves’ standards, Alon achieved less than twenty years of age before messing up his life beyond repair. Alon had been out with some friends at his local drinking establishment, imbibed too much, and saw fit to insult the eldest child of their ruling noble. The offendee, having also partaken in too much drink, challenged Alon to a duel of honor, or uasi as the tribals called it (which is partially why Alon felt the need to insult the man, seeing as no self-respecting elf found approval of anything humans did, let alone a member of the noble caste). The duel was supposed to be until first blood, and seeing as how both combatants were too drunk to stand without teetering, it was unlikely anyone would suffer so much as a bruise.

Unfortunately, Alon’s challenging shove caused the noble to stumble backwards onto his head, which popped open like a grape on ground. His more sober companions left him, the nobles’ friends beat Alon senseless, and he awoke in a cell hearing a deputy tell him he could choose between death by hanging, exile, or death by Patrol. Exile involved being dropped into the savannah and left to die, and hanging sounded painful, so Alon chose the Patrol.

The Patrol’s duties are three-fold: scout the eastern and southern borders of Ardhi for potential threats, map out the vast savannahs beyond those borders, and to cull the population of the numerous predators that inhabit them. Members are armed with simple weapons and whatever they manage to acquire during their often short careers. The savannahs were mostly uncharted, with temperatures that skyrocketed during the dry seasons, and chock full of lions, leopards, and other things that were more than capable of snacking on elves. Mortality rates are high among the Patrol, so high that veteran members like to say their one true mission was to survive long enough to see supper.

Today, supper was a cup of granola and fruit from the tree they camped under. As Alon had woken up today not expecting a day with fruit, he felt this was a supper worth living to see. His fellow patrolman, unfortunately, was not of like mind.

“We should have taken those gazelle.”

“We’ve been over this, Lat.” Their leader, an grey-haired elf named Pern, took the last of his fruit and popped it into his mouth. A member of the Patrol Pern’s age was a rarity. “Gazelle bring lions. And cooking gazelle brings drom.”

“So?” Lat had wolfed down his meager meal a few moments prior as was now licking fruit juice from his fingers. “We’re here to hunt drom, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Pern answered, “but I’d much rather be hunting drom than be hunted by drom.”

Lat leaned back against the tree. “But we can eat the drom, right?”

“You could,” Pern replied, “but eating drom is illegal, so I’d have to report you when we returned. The Followers would execute you.”

“As long as I have a full belly when I hang.” Lat closed his eyes. “I just think a man shouldn’t die on an empty stomach, is all.”

“A fine sentiment.”

“Have you hunted many drom, sir?” Alon felt the topic of discussion needed some improvement.

“Yes.” Pern threw the last of his fruit aside and began eating his granola.

Alon waited for Pern to say more, but the old elf continued eating. Deciding no more information would be forthcoming, Alon pulled his pack over to retrieve his canteen. He got three gulps of hot water before it went dry. Pern noticed, and set his food aside. “I’ll get you a refill.”

Alon handed it over to him. Pern got up and walked over to the tree. He put his free hand on it and closed his eyes. Lat retrieved his canteen as well and placed it at Pern’s feet. After a short moment, water began seeping from the bark around Pern’s hand, eventually pouring away from the tree completely into Alon’s canteen. When the canteen was filled, Lat took it from Pern and replaced it with his own. Alon went and got Pern’s from his pack, and soon all three containers were full. And after all three canteens passed through Lat’s hands, the group gained three canteens of pure, cold drinking water.

Not for the first time this mission, Alon found himself resolving to learn magic.

“Now,” Pern asked him as he handed Alon his canteen, “why was I able to do that?”

Alon knew the answer. Pern had been teaching the younger elf about the savannah since they left the outpost. “It’s a baobab tree.”

“And why is that important?”

“Because baobab trees retain water to survive the dry season.”

Pern nodded. “So if a hydromancer like me found themselves in the savannah after the wet season...”

“They’d have to conjure water from moisture in the tree, since the air around them would be too dry.”

“Good.”

What little Alon knew of using magic said that it involved using arcane energies to control the environment around the caster. Magic was like any other skill, in that anyone could pick it up and some people had more talent than others. The only limits were you had to be touching something to cast magic upon it, and that some forms were forbidden by both the Empire and the Followers.

Pern specialized in hydromancy, or water magic. He could move and direct water, and was skilled enough to condense water vapor into liquid form. Lat, on the other hand, was a pyromancer, an individual who used magic to control heat. A novice, Lat could only make things hotter or colder, but he was learning how to resist extreme heat, and his goal was to learn how to conjure fire. Other forms of magic involved moving earth and air, controlling microbes and cells, and even manipulating those arcane energies themselves.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Lat said. “Not easy sucking heat from metal.” He took a long drink from his canteen and stowed it. “Who’s got first watch tonight?”

“Alon does.”

“I do?”

Pern gave him a look. Alon nodded. “Yes, sir.”

They talked a bit more amongst themselves as they hydrated. No fire was set, as the light attracted various beasts no one involved felt any inclination to deal with. Alon set himself comfortably against the baobab tree as Lat and Pern quietly drifted off to sleep. The sun set behind him as the savannah slowly descended into twilight, and then night. The moon lit the grasslands in soft, white light underneath a canvas of stars. Alon’s gaze swept over them, ever watchful. Guard duty on the savannah was no small task, as all the dangerous predators were nocturnal hunters. Elven scholars theorized that humans had developed their ebony skins as a form of camouflage, so they may stay hidden as they slept.

Humans. Alon’s people had arrived to these lands from across this very savannah, for reasons that were lost to history. They brought with them technology and new magic, curiosities that drew the nomadic tribes of humans to them. The elves taught the humans that there were better ways of living than from wandering from one hunting ground to another, and built cities to share with them. The humans moved in willingly, working the elves’ fields in exchange for the light and walls the cities offered.

But sometimes, a human got it into their head they deserved more from the elves. This attitude was easily rectified with a public example or two, but about thirty years ago enough humans latched onto the idea to declare war on the elves. They accused the elves of several injustices, and began slaughtering his people. The Coup, as it was called, held their own against the Empire through use of guerilla tactics and powerful magicks, until the Followers sided with the Empire. With the support of the Huntress’ Chosen, the Empire all but exterminated the rebels, and the few who survived went into hiding.

All because the humans thought they deserved better than sharecropping. If they actually wanted more autonomy, Alon thought, they’d have just left the cities and remade their tribes. Lesser creatures shouldn’t be associated with elves, anyway.

Alon blinked. Movement in the grass broke his musings momentarily. But, he spotted nothing wrong, and went back to watching.

Then, a hand went over his mouth.

“Silence!” Pern’s voiced whispered in his ear. Alon ceased his struggling immediately. “Don’t move.”

Alon nodded, and the hand withdrew. Alon looked to Pern, expecting answers, but Pern wasn’t watching him. He was watching the grass. Finally, Alon asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Lat’s missing.”

“What?”

“Lat is gone. Keep your voice down.” Pern continued scanning the savannah. “We’re not alone out here.”

That was the only warning Alon got. The attack came from his left. A massive, black form silently erupted from the long grass and tore towards him. Alon barely got his hand on his sword before the thing was on him. Alon was bowled over. He felt claws dig into his leather armor and could just barely make out a mouthful of teeth descending for his head.

A jet of water suddenly shot from the tree, showering both Alon and drom in water and bark and knocking the creature off of him. Alon drew his sword, unthinking, and stabbed the reptile straight through the chest. It roared in pain, directly into his face, the loudest noise Alon would ever hear. Alon crawled to his feet, pulled out his sword, and turned around to face a nightmare.

Pern had one hand on the tree. Another water jet blew a second drom back into the grass. It emerged almost immediately, hissing, but Pern had his mace out by them, and hit the drom across the face. Alon saw teeth fly off into the grass, closely followed by the retreating drom. Alon saw a third drom poke its head over the grass. He raised his sword and shouted a warning to Pern, but the drom ducked back down. A trail of rustling grass led away from the two elves.

Pern sheathed his mace. “Good. Now let’s see if we can - “

Another drom came around the tree and bit down on his shoulder. All Pern got out was a pained shout before the drom dragged him down to the ground. Alon felt something heavy hit his back, and he was slammed into the tree. He tried pushing off the tree as he listened to Pern die, but he might as well as tried lifting the tree itself for all the good it did him. He closed his eyes and prayed his end would be quick.

A hand grabbed his head. Not a claw. A five-fingered hand gripped the top of his head and turned his face towards Pern. Another hand dug fingers at this eyes, forcing them open. And a voice spoke a single word to him. One word. One word Alon would carry to his grave.

“Look.”

There were now two drom tearing into the lifeless body of Pern. Alon, pinned to the tree and brow held back to force his eyes open, could only watch as the saurian creatures ate the elf’s body. They dug at his body with hooked claws, like chickens scratching dirt, ripping open his corpse and consuming the meat within. A loud snap shattered the night as one of them tore out a rib. Alon was forced to watch the animals consumed his fallen leader, until there was nothing left but gore and bone.

Finally, mercifully, it was over. The hands threw Alon at the drom’s feet, and Alon prepared to feel powerful claws split his flesh.

The claws never came. Instead, the clawed feet before him began to change. Scales sank back into the limbs to form dark, tender flesh, and talons shrank and twisted into bare feet. Above him, Alon heard noises he would later describe as similar to that of a sucking noise. He looked up, and both his surprise and horror, he watched the pair of drom change into a pair of naked humans. The hand from earlier, thick and callused, grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him to his feet in one motion. The humans grabbed him, turned him around, and Alon found himself towered over by the largest human he’d ever seen. He, too, was naked, and a good foot taller than him.

The man pointed to the west. “There is an Imperial outpost three kilometers in that direction. Do you know the way?”

Alon found himself nodding.

“Go to your people. Tell them what you saw here tonight.”

A scream ripped across the savannah. Alon recognized the voice of Lat. The man glared at him. “Now go.”

Alon told himself he wasn’t a coward. Alon told himself to draw his sword, to tell these humans or drom or whatever they were to eat crow, and to fight with honor until he fell alongside them. Alon grew up hearing stories of great heroes vanquishing evil. He knew what the right course of action in the face of such a thing was.

Yet, Alon found himself stumbling through the savannah, sword discarded, fleeing to the east as fast as his legs could carry him, and leaving Lat’s dying cries behind him.

-------

Opening to Part 1

Uasi.

It is a word from a tongue my people have almost forgotten. The nomads defined uasi as honorable combat between two parties fighting over property, power, or to avenge an injustice. In the old days, when the humans of Ardhi competing for hunting grounds and water sources, the elders of the tribes involved would meet with each other and hash out the terms of an uasi. To outright initiate conflict was considered craven and immoral. For the conflict to be respected, and thus honorable, it had to be declared an uasi. Otherwise tribes from surrounding areas would declare their own and combine forces to slaughter the offending tribe, down to the last member.

The uasi was born from necessity. The tribes were powerful, some more so than others, and open warfare ruined land as well as lives. It provided a way for weaker tribes to compete on equal terms with everyone else in a way that limited residual damage, giving all a fair chance at survival. It also gave ways for nomads to remove from power those who proved incompetent or selfish. And no matter the circumstances or who was involved, the result was considered the will of the Huntress and honored as such. Indeed, when the Followers of the Eternal Huntress established themselves as the dominant power in Ardhi, a third of their mission involved correcting problems through use of the uasi.

Unfortunately, the uasi is a thing of the past. The Followers and the Empire once honored the practice as a divine right of the people, but outlawed it a century ago. In my service to the Empire, I never saw what my ancestors considered honorable combat. Even though my mission was to protect the Empire and advance its interests, I often found those interests conflicting with the interests of my people. And so, I have resolved to combat those interests, and undo the wrongs dealt to us.

Too many sentients go through their lives planning day to day, and only ask themselves how they will survive long enough to accomplish their goals before death inevitably takes them. But the Huntress taught me that there are only two questions we should be asking ourselves: What is our purpose in life, and what do we have to do to accomplish that purpose?

My purpose is to correct injustice. I have been charged with taking power back from those who have abused it, and giving it to those they have abused. I will restore balance to Ardhi and return my people to the old ways.

I have called for uasi, and I will not stop until my people have been avenged.

--- From the journal of the Draakonin