The year was 3600, a Battle for the Throne year in
At age 96, Omri was too young to enter the battle.
As a servant in Varzack, Omri was not allowed to leave
As a blacksmith, Omri had no official training as a Dragon
None of that mattered to Omri.
Omri was the one son his parents had a chance to
influence. They were forced to give up
Omri’s two older brothers to become soldiers in the army and thus focused all
their attention on their youngest son.
If he became King of Zandador, they would be freed from their life of
servitude to their master Rehu.
His mother had been telling him from the day of his birth
how special he was. She made him believe
he could do no wrong and deserved to have everything he wanted.
Likewise, his father told him he was strong and smart and
powerful and had been training him in secret.
They weren’t supposed to know how to fight with the swords they made in
their blacksmith shop, but they trained at night anyway.
So when the Battle for the Throne began, they helped Omri
sneak out of Varzack so he could hunt dragons in Zandador. What none of them knew was that Omri’s oldest
brother Mahrer was also in Zandador hunting dragons.
He began his hunt in Dusk Stalker territory. He spent a month tracking one dragon,
learning its habits and assessing its strengths and weaknesses. Then one early morning in February, Omri made
His plan was to cut off the dragon’s tail while it slept,
and Omri had observed it often slept til nearly noon. Attacking at sunrise would catch the dragon
in a deep sleep, and it would be his before it had a chance to open its eyes.
Quietly, Omri drew his sword and approached the dragon’s
cave. He found its white-scaled body
curled into a ball, and its tail curved all the way under its head. Omri smiled.
All he had to do was slice through any part of the dragon’s tail, and it
would be his to control.
He adjusted his feet as he raised his sword, but that was
all it took to wake the dragon. In one
quick motion, it kicked Omri with his back leg.
The sharp claws ripped Omri’s shirt, cut into his chest and sent him
sprawling down the hill.
Omri scurried under cover of some nearby bushes and waited
for the dragon to find him, but it never did.
Because his brother found him first.
“Omri? What are you
doing here?” Mahrer pulled the hurt Omri
to his feet and punched him in the jaw.
“How dare you attempt to hunt any dragon, especially one I plan to make
“You’re no Dragon Hunter.”
Omri spit out a mouthful of blood.
“I got closer to that dragon on my first attempt than you could ever
hope to get in a thousand years.”
Mahrer screamed and punched Omri again, knocking him out.
When he woke up, his hands and legs were tied, and he was on
his way back to Varzack to serve a decade-long prison sentence for abandoning
his blacksmithing responsibilities.