Chapter 4: Council of Elders
The grand hall of Dragon's Bane Keep buzzed with tension as the Council of Elders convened. Tapestries depicting legendary dragon slayers adorned the stone walls, their faded glory a testament to centuries of conflict. Aria stood at attention near the massive oak doors, her role as a junior member granting her the privilege of observing but not participating.
Lord Commander Viktor Ironheart, a bear of a man with a face etched by battle scars, called the meeting to order. His booming voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "Esteemed colleagues, we face a crisis unlike any in recent memory. Dragon attacks have increased tenfold in the past month alone."
Murmurs of concern rippled through the assembled elders. Aria's gaze swept across their faces, noting the mix of fear, anger, and determination. Her eyes lingered on Garrick, who sat with his arms crossed, a deep frown etched on his weathered features.
Lady Sylvia Ravencrest, her silver hair gleaming in the torchlight, leaned forward. "What of the treaty? Have the dragon clans officially withdrawn?"
"That's the perplexing part," Viktor replied, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard. "The attacks seem random, uncoordinated. It's as if the dragons have gone mad."
Aria's heart raced. She thought of Drakon, his intelligent eyes and measured words a stark contrast to the picture Viktor painted. Could there be more to this situation than met the eye?
Elder Thorne, a wizened scholar with gnarled hands, spoke up. "Perhaps we're dealing with rogues? Outcasts from the dragon clans who no longer adhere to the treaty?"
"A plausible theory," Viktor nodded. "But the frequency and ferocity of these attacks suggest something more sinister at play."
As the discussion continued, Aria found her mind wandering to the dusty tome she'd discovered in the library. The legends spoke of times when dragons and humans had worked together, sharing knowledge and resources. What had changed? And more importantly, could that harmony ever be restored?
Her reverie was broken by Garrick's gruff voice. "We need to strike hard and fast. Show these beasts that we won't tolerate their aggression."
A chorus of agreement rose from several council members, but Lady Ravencrest held up a hand. "Caution, my friends. Escalating the conflict could lead to all-out war. We must consider diplomatic options as well."
"Diplomacy?" Garrick scoffed. "With dragons? You might as well try reasoning with a forest fire."
Aria bit her tongue, fighting the urge to speak out. She knew firsthand that dragons were capable of reason, but revealing that knowledge would be tantamount to treason.
Viktor raised his hands, silencing the brewing argument. "Both approaches have merit. We'll increase our defensive patrols and seek a parley with the dragon clans. In the meantime, I want our best hunters ready to move at a moment's notice."
His piercing gaze fell on Aria. "Nightshade, I understand you had a close encounter during your last hunt. Any insights to share?"
All eyes turned to Aria, and she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine. This was her chance to speak the truth, to challenge centuries of misconceptions. But as she opened her mouth, fear gripped her heart.
"The dragon... was unlike any I've encountered before," she began cautiously. "It displayed unusual intelligence and agility. We may be dealing with a new breed or subspecies."
It wasn't a lie, not exactly, but the omission of Drakon's ability to speak felt like a betrayal. Aria's stomach churned with guilt.
Viktor nodded gravely. "All the more reason to remain vigilant. Dismissed, everyone. May the gods grant us wisdom in these trying times."
As the council members filed out, Aria lingered, her mind awhirl with conflicting emotions. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Elder Thorne approach until he spoke.
"Troubled thoughts make for a furrowed brow, young Nightshade," the old scholar observed, his kind eyes twinkling.
Aria startled, then composed herself. "Just... processing everything, Elder Thorne. The situation seems more complex than we realized."
Thorne's lips quirked in a knowing smile. "Indeed. History is rarely as black and white as we'd like it to be. I couldn't help but notice your... careful choice of words earlier."
Aria's breath caught in her throat. Had she been that transparent? "I'm not sure what you mean," she stammered.
"Come now, child," Thorne chuckled softly. "I've spent a lifetime studying the nuances of dragon lore. I recognize the look of someone grappling with newfound knowledge."
For a moment, Aria considered confiding in the elder. But before she could speak, Garrick's voice boomed across the hall. "Nightshade! We've got a situation. Gear up and meet me at the gates in five minutes."
With an apologetic glance at Elder Thorne, Aria hurried away. As she gathered her weapons and donned her armor, her mind raced. What if this emergency involved Drakon? Could she bring herself to raise her bow against him if ordered?
The courtyard was a flurry of activity as Aria emerged. Hunters mounted steeds while support staff rushed to and fro with supplies. Garrick stood at the center of the chaos, barking orders.
"What's the situation?" Aria asked as she approached.
Garrick's expression was grim. "A dragon attacked a village just beyond the Whispering Woods. We're to eliminate the threat and assess the damage."
As they rode out, Aria's heart pounded in her chest. She prayed to any god who would listen that the dragon responsible wasn't Drakon. The alternative was too painful to contemplate.
The journey to the village was tense and silent. Smoke rose on the horizon, a grim harbinger of the destruction that awaited them. As they crested a hill overlooking the settlement, Aria gasped at the devastation below.
Buildings smoldered, their thatched roofs reduced to ash. Villagers wandered in shock, tending to the wounded and gathering what meager possessions had survived the attack. The air reeked of smoke and fear.
"Spread out and secure the perimeter," Garrick ordered. "Nightshade, you're with me. We'll check for survivors and any sign of the dragon."
As they moved through the ruined village, Aria's trained eye sought any clue that might identify the attacker. A flash of red caught her attention – a scale lodged in a charred wooden beam. With a surreptitious glance at Garrick, she pocketed it.
An old woman approached them, her face streaked with soot and tears. "Please, you must help us! The beast... it wasn't like the others. Its eyes... they glowed with an unholy light!"
Aria froze, her blood turning to ice. Could this be the work of Drakon? Had her judgment been so catastrophically wrong?
As night fell and the hunters made camp, Aria slipped away to examine the scale she'd found. In the moonlight, its color seemed off – not the vibrant ruby of Drakon's hide, but a darker, almost black crimson. Relief flooded through her, followed quickly by shame. How could she feel glad in the face of such suffering?
A rustling in the nearby bushes set Aria on high alert. She nocked an arrow, ready to loose it at a moment's notice. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
To her amazement, a small dragon emerged – no larger than a house cat. Its scales shimmered with an iridescent blue-green hue, and its eyes held an intelligence that reminded her of Drakon.
"Please," the tiny dragon spoke, its voice high and melodic. "I bring a message from Drakon. All is not as it seems. The true enemy lurks in shadow, turning dragon against human. He begs your help, Aria Nightshade."
As Aria stared in wonder at the messenger, she knew her life had reached a turning point. Whatever path she chose now would shape not only her future but potentially the fate of both humans and dragons alike.