The League of Dragon Riders

The only true leader

I wake up in the cool building. The fire had died sometime that night and left the building free to the chill of the wintery mountains. I shiver as I push myself up off the pew. Remains of our feast lay scattered arounds the room and bottles of alcoholic beverages lay littered around them. I glance up as Fergus’s snores echo throughout the room and I sigh when I find him asleep in the corner, holding a bottle much like a mother would hold a baby. Erin is sleeping quietly at the foot of the mirror with his face filled with grease. Maxwell is already awake and cleaning things up.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I start helping him. Neither of us participated in the celebratory activities last night except for a few bundles of food. Maxwell’s father seems to weigh on both of our minds, something that lingers from the night before. Maxwell doesn’t answer as he offers me a smile and we continue to clean up.

The sun is high in the sky when Fergus and Erin come to. Maxwell and I have already cleaned up our mess when they stumble to their feet and grumpily head toward the inn for more food. I roll my eyes and follow behind them, excited to be almost out of this cold landscape. 

Let’s just say the locals are happy to see us go. 

My mind wanders to the woman I had seen when we came in. She had been the only one to look me in the eyes but now I can’t find her. Why does everyone fear us? Why is she the only one that doesn’t?

After we bid farewell to the locals, we begin our trek down the mountainside. Fergus is complaining about the monster headache that had sprung from his overconsumption of alcohol. Erin, who stole a bottle of rum from the inn, is stumbling forward a good ways ahead of us. I watch as he takes a chug from the bottle that hangs loosely in his two gingers. He doesn’t say a word as he walks forward in silence.

Maxwell is a whole different story. He walks beside me with a grin on his face that threatens to tear it. His words come out quick and just clear enough for me to understand him as he goes on and on about nothing and everything all at once.

“Do you know what this means?” he asks, finally speaking of something that might be of some importance, “you are the only true leader of any of the clans. The last true bloodline of the Great Dragon Riders!”

“The great dragon riders?” I ask him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes,” he nods excitedly, “the first people to ride dragons. It’s said that they were a different breed of humans.”

“Wait,” I stop as I turn to face him, “there are others like us?”

“Yes. We are part of the League of Dragon Riders. There are four main clans that represent everyone. We are the northern clan. The other three represent the south, east, and the west.”

“The south...the red dragons. They’re a clan?” I ask, growing uneasy.

“Yeah, they’ve always been a bit off.”

“A bit off?” Erin asks angrily, “there are no more clans you i***t. Those southern monsters killed everyone else. They’ve killed thousands in cold blood! And what have we done about it? Nothing!”

“Quit yer yelling!” Fergus yells at him, “my head aches enough as it is.”

“Yeah, like your headache is the worst of our worries,” Erin slurs as he stumbles toward Fergus, “We used to be great! Now look at us.”

Oh, Erin is too drunk, I think dumbly as he throws a sloppy punch at Fergus. It doesn’t land and Erin spins slightly as he falls into the snow. Fergus just watches him with a scowl on his face as Erin stumbles back up to his feet. I watch them with a horrific type of curiosity. I had always considered Erin a better fighter because of his serious, merciless attitude. Fergus had always seemed too nice to me to be a real, logical threat. 

Now, curiosity eats at me. Who would actually win in a fight? 

“Let’s go,” Maxwell murmurs as he pulls me away from them. I yank at his arm as I watch them. Erin has his arms wrapped around Fergus but the large man doesn’t budge. 

“Shouldn’t we do something?” I argue.

“This happens everytime we come here,” Maxwell sighs, but his focus isn’t on me or my words. He’s looking into the trees as if he sees something in them, “they’ll be fine.”

My heart jumps as I too turn my attention onto the quiet trees among us. I can hear our steps but the arguing words of the two older men made it hard to listen for anything out of the ordinary. There are no animals except for an occasional bird darting out of the trees as we pass by. Maxwell’s hand is still squeezing my arm and I stop to yank it out of his grasp.

“What?” he asks impatiently, looking around us before focusing his green eyes on me. I look into them for a long while before letting out a sigh. I turn and look around us, desperate to find something concrete to be suspicious about. These past few days have been crazy and I want something real and believable to be angry about. 

“Why do we need to go?” I ask him, “Why are we leaving Erin and Fergus to whatever we’re running away from?”

“We are not running away from anything,” Maxwell tells me as he reaches for my arm once again, “this mountain just gives me the creeps, okay? My father was driven crazy because of that basin. I guess I’m scared of it happening to someone else I care about.” 

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. There is something wrong with his expression. His words call for my sympathy but there is no expression on his face or any emotion in his tone. It’s like he is saying words he knows I’d sympathize with but doesn’t believe in himself.

“Maxwell,” I ask, stepping away from him, “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m acting weird?” he scoffs, “come on. Let’s get off this mountain.”

“No,” I say, “I want to go help our friends.”

“Alaina,” Maxwell says, his voice full of warning. I gulp when I notice that his eyes aren’t on me. 

They are on something behind me.